‘Hells, this guy is hard to look at’

Ruen looked worse than when Rael had seen him last. Maybe there were a few new scars on his body, or pieces of flesh that had been torn off. It was more likely Rael hadn’t gotten as good a look at him. This was the first time they could see him from the outside. They could feel his feet slapping against the cobblestone as he ran through a city in flames, hear the thoughts racing in his mind, just as they had in their other dreams. The difference being that they flew alongside the mangled man rather than constrain themselves to his perspective.

Thus, the difficulty looking at Ruen. Rael had more freedom to explore around the last Dragonward, but they were linked to him. Where he went, he pulled the ghost of Rael with him as if on a leash. Rael could choose to immerse themselves in his perspective, and they were sorely tempted. But Rael got the sense to do so would be to bind themselves to Ruen again. So they watched Ruen jump through the window of a burning building, avoiding flaming debris as he ran across the second floor and out another window. Rael’s heart jumped when a flaming support beam passed right through them. They looked over themselves, rolling their eyes at their reaction. It all looked and felt so real, Rael forgot they weren’t actually there.

Ruen moved with the grace of a cat, his feet clenching onto the roof tiles as he bounded across the roofs. The sound of screaming and clashing metal echoed throughout the city. Rael was pulled alongside a child crying over the bloodied corpse of a woman, dead eyes fixed on the starry skies. Ruen only hesitated for a moment, turning away and closing his heart as the images of four children burned themselves in his mind.

Theo, Andrea, Gill, and…Fenris. The memory of the children he’d saved all those years ago filled him with the strength to continue. The whip scars on his back prickled enough to quash the need to go help the child. His failure at opening the gates ten years ago still weighed on him heavily. Someone shouted on the streets below. Ruen scampered to hide behind a chimney, just in time to hear the shout erupt into a chorus of war cries from both ends of the street. Rael tried to peek over the side, but the figures outside of Ruen’s vision were hazy and indistinct.

Ruen clicked his tongue and hugged his body tighter to the chimney. It seemed as if two opposing forces had met each other right beneath him. Last he knew, the Macepholians and the Beihars had attacked Klamdrexia at the same time. The small city-state was quickly breached, and now the three armies were fighting madly to loot, recover, or destroy whatever was left. Not for the first time, Ruen cursed the Jarl for bringing them into this mess.

He needed to understand who was fighting. The Macepholians would either rush through on their cavalry or destroy nearby buildings with their destructive spells. The Beihars would be careful not to destroy too many buildings, more interested in looting one of the last vestiges of the ancient Klamfik empire. The Klamdrexian militia would be harder to predict. Some would be just as keen on saving their people and repelling invaders as they would be on settling old grudges. Ruen had witnessed a few militiamen looting with the same reckless abandon as the Beihars, no doubt believing the city was a lost cause.

Ruen’s tome-child appeared next to him, his eyes closing as he silently cast two spells at once. [Unseen Tome] and [Share Tomesight]. Rael grimaced as their senses were pulled apart once more. They could see through the disappearing tome-child’s eyes as easily as they could through Ruen’s own. The tome crawled to the top of the chimney, the sight of a shivering chimneysweep inside surprising both Dragonwards. Ruen forced his tome to focus on the street below, nodding in satisfaction upon seeing the Beihars in their thick furs clashing against the larger contingent of Klamdrexian spearmen.

For once, luck was on his side. He waited behind the chimney as the militia routed the Beihars, clearing the street as they chased after them. The chimneysweep breathed a sigh of relief. Ruen was tempted to leave then, but the nagging feeling of the child he left behind grated at him. When he looked up to the sky for answers, the stars drowned out by the fires below, all he could find were the twin moons staring back at him. Arafell’s gaze was a lonely one. Despite the legends, he was powerless to help the victims of the world below. The scars on his back prickled in warning. Ruen ignored them.

Quick as a snake, his long arm reached inside the chimney and pulled out a young man as he squawked in fear. He was barely more than a boy, shivering hard enough for the soot to shower from him like black snow. Ruen ignored the smell of urine as the young man looked at him, holding him up by his tunic so he could look him in the eyes.

“There is a child crying over his mother’s body over there.” Ruen pointed where he came from. “He is not the first orphan in Klamdrexia tonight, nor will he be the last. Someone needs to look after them. Can you do that?”

The chimneysweep blinked a few times in confusion. Ruen had neither the time nor the patience to wait for his mind to catch up. He shook the young man a few times and held him steady.

“Do you understand?!” Ruen hissed. The chimneysweep nodded wildly, tears gathering in his eyes. “Good.”

Ruen plopped the young man on the roof and ran to jump to the other side of the street. A part of him wanted to look back to see the chimneysweep do as he was told, but he couldn’t afford to stop. He flew swiftly across buildings, disturbing a flock of crows. Rael tried to look away from the pile of bodies, the stiff and soiled corpses of men and women, invader and citizen, joined together in a mass grave. The crows erupted into a flurry of flapping wings, settling back down once Ruen had passed, hiding the disturbing sight from Rael in a canvas of black wings. Yet one followed Ruen, probably thinking that the Faulk would lead it to another feast.

Rael hoped it wasn’t the case. They glided by Ruen, their gaze jumping between the silent crow, the shoreline, and Ruen. The scarred warrior slid down the side of a building, jumping from a balcony and pulling himself up the city wall. Just on the other side, hidden from the chaos within the city, was a drakkar and a rowboat. Ruen dived.

The water was refreshing, colder and saltier than the tepid shores of the Jarldoms. It enveloped Ruen completely, fresh injuries stinging him. He kicked once, twice, three times, gliding through the water until the shadow of the boat covered him. Only then did he swing back towards the surface, his hands grabbing onto the anchor line and pulling himself up faster. Ruen breached the surface of the water and scaled up the side of the boat.

“Dragonward Ruen.” His arm was taken in a strong grip and pulled onto the deck. “You made it.”

The deck was full of people milling about nervously, trying to keep themselves busy to ignore the smell of burning flesh coming from the city. Witnessing Ruen come aboard relieved some of their tension.

Ruen’s smirk caused most onlookers to shrink away from the sight, but not Captain Damian. The silver-haired captain embraced the lanky man tightly, his prickly beard digging into Ruen’s skin. The Dragonward’s smirk softened at his touch as he reciprocated the hug.

“Was there any doubt?” Ruen rasped, holding up the watertight leather bag he kept around his waist. Rael hadn’t noticed the bag until now, the leather sparkling with strange symbols. The crow from earlier landed on one of the lines connecting the sqaure sail to the hull, watching the bag and Ruen carefully.

“I knew we could count on you.” Captain Damian guffawed, signaling two men to approach.

Rael and Ruen narrowed their eyes when they saw a man in black furs and another Faulk make their way to them. Most of the crew kept an eye on the Beihar, but treated the Faulk with respect, moving aside to make way for the pair.

“Jarl Andras.” Captain Damian and Ruen nodded their heads.

“Your men lack the respect that your position deserves, Jarl.” The Beihar clasped his hands behind his back and ignored the two.

“Our customs are different, King Peter.” Captain Damian’s tone caused the Beihar king to bristle. “To bow our heads means to give up our lives as warriors and sailors. How can we serve the Jarldoms if we give up our identities?”

“Maybe when I am High Jarl, things will be different.” Jarl Andras noted, holding out his hand. “Do you have them?”

Ruen hid his grimace with his bag, pulling out a ring, a yellowed scroll, and a key. He placed the three objects in the Jarl’s waiting hands. Ruen noted the spark of greed in their eyes. Jarl Andras licked his lips and passed the signet ring to the Beihar king.

“House Hectate's signet ring. How folk can be deceived with such a thing is beyond me.” Andras chuckled and opened the scroll. “The Klamdrexia charter. Ironic that the laws of the land are bound to this centuries-old piece of paper.”

“Fools are often bound by paper promises.” King Peter joined in the Jarl’s mirth. “To such an extent that it becomes a symbol for them. Destroy that symbol in front of them, and they become like sheep without a shepherd.”

The Jarl unfurled the ancient document and looked over its contents. Rael floated over his shoulder, tryin to read the complicated scrawl. Yet no matter how hard they looked, the dreamer could not understand it. The script flowed and pulsed in incomprehensible patterns.

Andras gave Peter the scroll, but kept the key in his hand. The Jarl marveled it as he turned it over and over, rubbing his thumb over the neck of the key. The Beihar king’s gaze was locked on it, nervously palming the sword at his side. Jarl Andras delighted in Peter’s anxious gaze, flipping the key several times in his palm.

“The key to the Lord’s coffers.” Jarl Andras threw it in the air and caught it. “I’ll be honest with you, King Peter. We both want this. I have no doubt that you have some powerful spells. But I don’t think you could get away from this ship without my permission.”

The Beihar king clasped the sword at his side tightly, swiveling his head between the tense Faulk onboard. “You’d have to fight through three armies to get to the treasury.”

“We can wait.” Jarl Andras shrugged, catching the key and holding it tight. “Or we can avoid the fighting altogether. You can have the key. I just want your help.” King Peter eyed his surroundings for a few moments before his shoulders slumped and he released the grip of his sword. “I promise that I won’t force ridiculous conditions on you or your people.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s talk in my quarters.” Jarl Andras led the frowning Beihar to his quarters, his crew finally relaxing.

“Not even a thank you.” Damian stared daggers at his Jarl and the Beihar king. “Does he think what you do is easy?”

“He couldn’t show weakness to the king.” Ruen crossed his arms and blocked Damian’s glare. “We trust our Jarl. It is what separates Faulk from un-Faulk.”

“The Jarl should not be doing this, anyways.” The captain sighed and leaned against the mast. “Scheming with outsiders? Rejecting the High Jarl? And now refusing to give you the merit you deserve…”

“I must bear the weight of my mistakes.”

“You saved children.” Damian dug his finger into Ruen’s chest. “Took them as your own. All it cost was a bit of extra loot. That was not a mistake.” The sulking captain turned his gaze towards the burning city. “The destruction of a city that stood for centuries, however…”

Ruen opened his mouth to defend the Jarl but snapped it shut when he saw a messy mane of blond hair come from below deck. He shot Damien a look that promised to continue the old argument later and smiled as his oldest son saw him. Rael recognized him. It was the boy that witnessed Ruen kill the men at a granary. Theo, now a man grown, beamed when he saw his adoptive father. His smile faltered when he noticed Ruen pass a barrel to meet him, though the joy never left his eyes.

“Father!” He clasped Ruen’s arm in his own and brought him into an embrace, the rat’s nest he called his hair tickling what remained of Ruen’s nose.

“Why is everyone so surprised to see me?” Ruen mussed Theo’s hair, the young man struggling free. He stepped between Ruen and the barrel and tried pushing him away.

“It’s been a long couple days. Especially with the Beihar aboard.” Theo tried to pull Ruen away, but the Dragonward stood firm.

“Anything interesting happen?”

“Uh…no?” Theo smiled sheepishly, his gaze darting between Ruen and the barrel behind him.

The crow cawed and flapped atop the barrel, making a sound akin to laughter when it looked inside. For some reason, Ruen didn’t see the crow, instead focusing on the container. Rael floated over to look inside and nearly jumped out of their skin. At first glance, it seemed as if it was full of plums, but upon careful inspection, Rael could see the shadowy figure of a girl hiding within.

“You are a terrible liar.” Ruen hacked out a chortle, leaning into the barrel. He squinted until he could see the girl and his smile turned into a frown. Ruen reached inside, and for the second time that day, pulled someone out of a hole. “Fen.”

The child of dragons looked into her father’s eyes, unflinching under his ugly scowl. Her long purple hair was slick with plum juice, a particularly ripe one impaled on one of her violet horns.

“Father.” Fenris nodded, ignoring her older brother as he tried to make his escape.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Ruen caught Theo by the shoulder. “Was this Theo’s idea?”

“He only found me yesterday.” Fenris shook her head.

“Fen…”

“Is what Captain Damian said true?” The child of dragons interrupted Ruen, staring pointedly at the quarters where the Jarl and Beihar secluded themselves. “About the Jarl?”

‘It seems that sensitive ears aren’t the only things the scaled share.’ Rael chuckled. ‘They love asking hard questions.’

“Jarl Andras has a lot to do and not much to work with. He needs allies against the High Jarl.” Ruen pulled the plum off Fenris’ horn and popped it in his mouth. “By allying with the southern lands, the High Jarl has made raiding for the southern Jarls near impossible. Jarl Andras has no choice.”

Rael thought that response sounded rehearsed. From Fenris’ expression, so did she. The crow cawed loudly, hopping from out of the barrel and onto the girl’s head. Neither she nor Ruen reacted. Rael floated by the crow curiously. And stopped.

It was looking right at them.

“What the…?” Rael moved to touch the crow, half expecting their hand to go right through it.

“Boo!”

Rael jumped back in surprise, the dream fading into a sepia tone. A familiar cackling laughter erupted from the crow, and it erupted into feathers. Perched in its place was a willowy woman with an explosion of frizzy red hair and freckles around her clear blue eyes.

“Norn Astrid?”

The woman somersaulted and sent a wink Rael’s way.

“You got it!” Astrid clapped her hands. The colors of the dream faded away until there was nothing left but a white void. “Welcome to the dreamscape.”

Astrid snapped her fingers and the world shifted around them, Rael finding themselves in a cozy velvet chair in the middle of a massive chamber. All around them were tapestries of gold and crimson, depicting warriors and drakkars raiding, flying, talking. Each tapestry was connected to another, sometimes by tiny red threads, other times by entire embroideries sewn to connect others. It wasn’t uncommon to see several of the wall-hangings split apart to form their own, or to join into a larger piece. The textiles covered every wall, reaching heights beyond Rael’s sight.