Blood of the Sea, Chapter Fourty

Chapter 40: Undertow

Astrophel

The next day, the sky is split overhead by an eerie but ever more familiar roar. Flykra’s glimmering white body is bright against the daylight and the clear sky behind her. At first glance as she approaches, the Thralkin appears as though like a large bird. But even still, she grows more impossible, more monstrous the nearer she flies. By the time she alights, the tribes-folk have gathered, leaving an open space for the large creature. Some of the tribe lean on their axes or shovels, others crouch with food in hand. Flykra settles, her wings folding along her flanks as she rests upon her forelegs, graceful lines belying the strength and magic contained in her body.

Approaching the Thralkin, Astrophel’s skin prickles with goosebumps as a wave of chills washes over him, the air growing cooler in proximity to this creature. From Flykra’s back, her Rider descends, sliding down her scales until his boots hit the ground. He takes off his helm, tucking it under his arm and glancing around at the gathering. Spotting Astrophel, he strides forward, holding his hand out, “You’ve made camp out here?”

Astrophel meets him in the middle, clasping the Rider’s arm; the Rider’s grip is firm and solid, and a whisper of a chill seeps into Astrophel’s skin. Astrophel nods, “We have.”

“The Red Queen hasn’t folded you into her city then.” The Rider nods in approval, his eyes boring into Astrophel with a confident sort of certainty that comes from the beastial companion at his back.

“No, she hasn’t. We stand separate from her and her city of magic.”

“Good. That’s good.” Flykra’s Rider releases Astrophel’s arm, rubbing at his chin as he considers the tribes gathered behind Astrophel and in a loose semi circle around Flykra. “We would offer you friendship, then.”

“Friendship?” Dionne asks; she, Nox, Sul, and Khalil approach.

Sulien’s brow furrows, “You don’t like the mages, I gather. What makes us different?”

The Rider considers Astrophel’s friends. “You work together. You help those who don’t owe you allegiance, such as Kildangan. You have come to settle, and settle you will. You aren’t causing problems. We Riders would respect you and your people as a separate entity from the mages of greater Farrah.”

“You can speak for all of them?” Nox asks. They fold their arms over their chest, glancing from Dionne to Khalil, “We do work together as a group. What makes you different from the queen you speak of, if you speak for all riders?”

Flykra hisses over the Rider’s shoulder, a white light growing in her throat. The Rider holds up a hand, his eyes slightly unfocused as Flykra shakes out her neck and huffs a blast of cold air above the heads of those gathered. The Thralkin turns her icy gaze upon Nox, [ You understand so little of the politics here. I will spare you a lecture. However, know this. The Red Queen is queen by force. By power and sheer will. Those who go against her are made into examples. This friendship we offer you is for shelter, not for a defensive alliance. ] She bares her teeth, [ Make no mistake, little ones. We were here first, and will be long after your descendants leave this world. Being Kahu gives us this voice; this choice to speak for the greater good of our people, for we do not speak so selfishly. I could no more do something to endanger my people than I could hurt my Rider. The Red Queen, however? The bitch you would compare me to? ] Flykra’s tail lashes. [ She is tyranny made flesh. Do not let her soft appearance fool you. You have woman warriors. Know they can hide as many weapons as you yourself can bear. ]

The gathering falls into a sort of hush; the Thralkin’s words ring in their minds with a sort of undeniable truth.

Astrophel’s skin prickles and stings as the hoarfrost settles over him. Others around him wipe at their arms, the crystalized air bitter cold. He sees their eyes open to the possibility of these creatures having magic. Of being forces to reckon with. He sees acceptance.

Khalil inclines his head toward the Rider, “We accept the offer of your friendship. Your words are wise, and we hope the wisdom stays with us in the days ahead.”

Astrophel sees Flykra’s head snap up, gaze focused on movement in the back; footsteps shuffling over the frost-bitten ground. He turns, finding one of Vance’s friends walking away from the gathering. Another, and then a third peel off as well, throwing backward glances to the five and the Thralkin. They leave, and Astrophel’s skin prickles for another reason entirely.

Flykra growls softly, but it’s like saying the ocean does anything softly. [ They are fools. Blind fools. ] That chill light crackles in her chest, her forelegs bracing against the ground. [ Shall I stop them? ]

There’s a heavy pause before Dionne replies, “No. It is up to them to steer the course of their lives. This is their decision.”

Astrophel spots Raelyn, the heavily pregnant shield-maiden watching Vance’s close friends leave the gathering. She notices him watching her and she frowns, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach. Astrophel nods to her, expecting her to go with them. He couldn't begrudge her following her heart, chasing after the father of her unborn child. But Raelyn’s face cracks with pain, and she drops her gaze to the ground, shaking her head.

Astrophel turns, watching those Vance’s friends leave, and hoping they aren’t foolish enough to do what he thinks them capable of. But sometimes hope isn’t enough; sometimes actions have to prove themselves, one way or another.