Llandry

16 VII-2

I can tell you, nobody was more surprised by this than me.

The periods of flight were also interesting. It has been some time since I have taken a long journey through Iskyr. Watching the realm’s Changes happen from a position aloft is fascinating, and mesmerisingly beautiful. We flew over rolling hills looking like a rumpled, bejewelled blanket, and watched as they shimmered with roiling colour and melted into a lake of sparkling golden waters. Tiny islands of blueish rock were dotted about across the surface, sparse flecks of colour in an otherwise featureless golden sea. Later, we passed over a forest of trees grown so closely together, I could see nothing of the ground beneath. These were trees I have never seen before: they bore nothing I could describe as leaves, but their branches were thickly clad in a pale, fluffy type of something all threaded through with spidery tendrils of red. Viewed from above, it looked like a particularly plush woollen quilt covered in haphazard embroidery. I could smell the trees, too, even from up there! They emitted a thick, cloyingly sweet aroma, pleasant enough for a few breaths, but I swiftly began to feel that I would prefer not to spend much time beneath those branches.

The forest vanished in favour of an arid expanse of near desert, its sands as red as the vines of the fluffy trees. It was featureless, until we soared over a single oasis of sparkling clear water and silvery trees struggling bravely to survive in the midst.

I began to wonder where these landscapes come from. Are they generated by Iskyr itself, somehow? By which I mean, do they grow here, or were they made? See, it is possible that all of these landscapes are as natural to Iskyr as the glissenwol woods are to Glinnery, but that somehow several of them grow in the same place. The Changes happen because they fight for dominance over that space, and it varies as to which landscape wins. So to speak.

That is one theory. I also wonder how many are left behind from ages past, when these worlds were populated by multiple thriving colonies of draykoni. If I wanted to, I could land in the middle of that blood-red desert and adjust it to something else. I could change the colour of the sand, or do away with the desert entirely in favour of a rippling sea. The greater the change the harder it is, of course. I do not know if I could banish an entire desert in favour of water, or at least not by myself. But that is only because I am not strong enough alone. Together, we could certainly do it. The landscape bends to our will, up here, because we are part of it.

But if we did that, what would happen to the desert? I think it likely that nothing would happen to the desert at all, in that it would not be erased by our meddling. Rather, we would construct a new landscape and impose it over the top of the desert, and every other that manifests in that locale. As long as we remained and wished for it to dominate, then our sea, or whatever we chose, would remain prominent. But if we left and never came back, the desert would, sooner or later, reassert itself. So would our sea. In short, all these peculiar landscapes might be the leftover projects of long-gone draykoni. Somebody dreamed up those strange, fluffy trees, and the dream retains some of its power, even after the dreamer is gone.

Interesting, no? At present, there is no way to determine which of these theories is the truth, if either. Maybe they both are. There is much yet to be done, to learn about ourselves and the effects we have on our home.

We speculated about all of this extensively, as we wended our way south. I learned that Meriall has a particularly keen mind for such theorising, and her grasp of both theories is better than mine. I also learned that Nyden doesn’t much care.

Pense doesn’t care either. He listens to our speculations with the mild amusement of an old man listening to the tentative discoveries of children, and contributes little.

That’s okay. I love him anyway.

We passed through nine Changes before we began to sense other draykoni nearby. Nyden warned us that there would be a lot of them at Eterna’s colony. I hadn’t needed the warning, precisely, but the reminder wasn’t out of place. When Eterna led the attack on Waeverleyne, she brought more than thirty ancient, recently-revived draykoni with her. It was reasonable to expect that most or all of these made up the beginnings of her new colony on Iskyr, and she has certainly woken others since, Nyden being one. I was prepared to encounter fairly large numbers of them, but I was still taken aback by the truth.

The colony had taken residence upon a vast mountain, which hove into view so suddenly I felt that it must have been hidden in some way before.

You could have warned us, Ny, said Meriall grouchily.

You knew where we were going. Why should you be surprised when we get there?

I didn’t realise—

Thoroughly unreasonable, said Ny in disgust, cutting her off. Meriall snapped her teeth at him and he returned the gesture, grinning.

We were flying over a nondescript meadow when we crossed some kind of barely-perceptible boundary, like passing through a veil of gauze. And there was the mountain, all whitish rock with patches of alpine brush and sturdy trees. Structures like enormous, woven nests covered over with roofs and built on several levels were dotted up and down the mountain, which I viewed with some interest. Were these the kinds of dwellings that draykoni naturally preferred? Pense had always let me decide how we were to dispose of ourselves by way of a home, and Nyden had yet to fully install himself at Nuwelin.

Stop here, Pense suggested, and we obeyed, hovering at a respectful distance from the settlement. We wanted nobody to imagine that our intentions were hostile.

We had been sensed the moment we came within range of the colony, just as we had begun to sense them a half-mile or so back. Almost as soon as we came to a halt, a trio of draykoni soared into place before us, neatly blocking us from proceeding any farther. They were violet, yellow and white respectively, and I did not remember seeing any of them before. Whether they were part of Eterna’s original group or more recently awoken, I could not tell.

Who are you? demanded the leader, the violet-scaled one. Her voice in my mind was unmistakeably female and just as unmistakeably authoritative, but unusually, she was not the largest draykon of the group. That interested me. I had previously assumed that the biggest draykon tended to lead by virtue of superior might, but perhaps that was simple-minded of me.

Particularly since I was the smallest of my group of four, and yet I was also the generally acknowledged leader.

Not this time, though. I refused. Not because I was afraid, although I did feel a little cowed by the numbers of draykoni before me. But because, in this instance, I was absolutely underqualified. This was a group of ancient draykoni, not part-human hereditaries like me. I had not the smallest idea how to deal with them sensibly or respectfully. Furthermore, I had the feeling that they would take Pensould much more seriously than the rest of us, for he existed on a level with them. I could have volunteered Nyden, but his… odd attitude doesn’t lend itself well to negotiation. Besides, who knows on what terms he departed this place?

Pense, I said privately. This is your world.

He did not make me argue with him about it, fortunately, but put himself forward without complaint. I was relieved, and a little… guilty? The problem is, even when I am certain I have good reasons to hang back, I still doubt myself. Had I really delegated the role of speaker to Pense because it was the sensible thing to do, or was I just kidding myself and it was purely because I was afraid?

Sometimes I get so bored with being me.

We hail from the colony of Nuwelin, Pensould announced. We are here with tidings for your leader.

The three draykoni said nothing right away, and I imagined they were discussing this amongst themselves. Their manner was carefully neutral, neither trusting nor overtly wary, but I sensed a hint of unease from them.

Which was curious, under the circumstances, for I could easily see that they far, far outnumbered our little colony. But perhaps they were as poorly informed about Nuwelin as I had previously been about their settlement, if not more so. For all they knew, we part-draykoni could number in the hundreds by now.

Please wait here, said the violet draykoni at last. You may land.

We obeyed this politely-phrased order with some relief, for we had been on the wing for too long and were growing tired. The white-scaled draykon detached himself from the group and flew away, presumably to fetch, or at least consult, Eterna. The other two kept their position in the air above us, watchful and clearly ready to rend us to pieces should we attempt any form of aggression. This we ignored. We sat comfortably in the grasses at the foot of that sprawling mountain and dozed, at least ostensibly. In truth, I was alert for the smallest change in the situation that might herald a problem, and I am sure the others were likewise.

Eterna certainly took her time, but at length she arrived. She was the draykon who inspired my limited theory about size and power, for she was a huge creature, much bigger than any of the three sentries who had accosted us upon arrival. Her scales were mottled green and cream, though I was now able to see that they were veined with faint gold as well. I had rarely been so close to her before, and on the last occasion I had been too busy driving her into gunfire to pay much attention to her appearance.

I believe the memory of that was at the forefront of her mind, too, for she treated me with wariness. Llandry Sanfaer, she said, as she landed in front of me. I cannot claim to be pleased to see you.

I gave a draykon-shrug, which is like a little lift of the wings. That feeling is mutual, but we come bearing important news. We could not, in fairness, fail to inform you.

You could have sent a messenger, Eterna pointed out.

I could. But I felt I owed the respect of greater attention to your colony.

Eterna digested that in silence for some time, and I felt her attention wander over Pensould, Meriall and Nyden, lingering upon the latter some time. Nyden bore her scrutiny with all the grace of a rock, and did his level best to appear both inconspicuous and innocent. He failed the way a rock fails to fly, but she did not comment upon his return.

We made an impressive-enough group, I thought, banded together as we were. Pense and Nyden have the advantage of size, and Meriall is by no means small herself. But I felt a hint of disdain from Eterna as she looked us over. She would know at once that two of us were only partly draykon, and I know that the ancients, as a group, tend to view us as lesser.

Their loss, really. My people are in no way lesser.

What, then, is your news? Eterna said at last.

I let Pensould take over again, and listened quietly as he related his find of the draykon grave. He has a better idea of how to present it than I would, and there are implications to it that an ancient draykon will grasp better than a part-blood like me. He was economical with his information, expressing the situation in brief sentences. He ended by saying, Our purpose was two-fold: To warn your folk that some danger to our kind is abroad in this land, and to ask whether you are in possession of any information about how such a thing might be done.