Morgan Rice - De Tappras Uppkomst

She sighed, and fell silent for a long time. Kyra was surprised when she started to speak again.

“Our city is cut with canals,” Dierdre continued. “When I was growing up, I would sit atop the ridge and watch the ships come in and out for hours, sometimes days. They would come to us from all over the world, flying all different banners and sails and colors. They would bring in spices and silks and weapons and delicacies of every manner—sometimes even animals. I would look at the people coming and going, and I would wonder about their lives. I wanted desperately to be one of them.”

She smiled, an unusual sight, her eyes aglow, clearly remembering.

“I used to have a dream,” Dierdre said. “When I came of age, I would board one of those ships and sail away to some foreign land. I would find my prince, and we would live on a great island, in a great castle somewhere. Anywhere but Escalon.”

Kyra looked over to see Dierdre smiling.

“And now?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre’s face fell as she looked down at the snow, her expression suddenly filled with sadness. She merely shook her head.

“It’s too late for me,” Dierdre said. “After what they’ve done to me.”

“It’s never too late,” Kyra said, wanting to reassure her.

But Dierdre merely shook her head.

“Those were the dreams of an innocent girl,” she said, her voice heavy with remorse. “That girl is long gone.”

Kyra felt sadness for her friend as they continued in silence, deeper and deeper into the wood. She wanted to take away her pain, but did not how. She wondered at the pain that some people lived with. What was it her father had told her once? Do not be fooled by men’s faces. We all lead lives of quiet despair. Some hide it better than others. Feel compassion for all, even if you see no outward reason.

“The worst day of my life,” Dierdre continued, “was when my father conceded to Pandesian law, when he let those ships enter our canals and let his men lower our banners. It was a sadder day, even, than when he allowed them to take me.”

Kyra understood all too well. She understood the pain Dierdre had gone through, the sense of betrayal.

“And when you return?” Kyra asked. “Will you see your father?”

Dierdre looked down, pained. Finally, she said: “He is still my father. He made a mistake. I am sure he did not realize what would become of me. I think he shall never be the same when he learns what happened. I want to tell him. Eye to eye. I want him to understand the pain I felt. His betrayal. He needs to understand what happens when men decide the fate of women.” She wiped away a tear. “He was my hero once. I do not understand how he could have given me away.”

“And now?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre shook her head.

“No more. I am done making men my heroes. I shall find other heroes.”

“What about you?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre looked back, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Why look any further than yourself?” Kyra asked. “Can you not be your own hero?”

Dierdre scoffed.

“And why would I?”

“You are a hero to me,” Kyra said. “What you suffered in there—I could not suffer. You survived. More than that—you are back on your feet and thriving even now. That makes you a hero to me.”

Dierdre seemed to contemplate her words as they continued on in the silence.

“And you, Kyra?” Dierdre finally asked. “Tell me something about you.”

Kyra shrugged, wondering.

“What would you like to know?”

Dierdre cleared her throat.

“Tell me of the dragon. What happened back there? I’ve never seen anything like it. Why did he come for you?” She hesitated. “Who are you?”

Kyra was surprised to detect fear in her friend’s voice. She pondered her words, wanting to answer truthfully, and wished she had the answer.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, truthfully. “I suppose that is what I am going to find out.”

“You don’t know?” Dierdre pressed. “A dragon swoops down from the sky to fight for you, and you don’t know why?”

Kyra thought about how crazy that sounded, yet she could only shake her head. She looked up reflexively at the skies, and between the gnarled branches, despite all hope, she hoped for a sign of Theos.

But saw nothing but gloom. She heard no dragon, and her sense of isolation deepened.

“You know that you are different, don’t you?” Dierdre pressed.

Kyra shrugged, her cheeks burning, feeling self-conscious. She wondered if her friend looked at her as if she were some kind of freak.

“I used to be so sure of everything,” Kyra replied. “But now…I honestly don’t know anymore.”

They continued riding for hours, falling back into a comfortable silence, sometimes trotting when the wood opened up, at other times the wood so dense they needed to dismount and lead their beasts. Kyra felt on edge the entire time, feeling as if they could be attacked at any moment, never able to relax in this forest. She did not know what hurt her more: the cold or the hunger pains ripping through her stomach. Her muscles ached, and she couldn’t feel her lips. She was miserable. She could hardly conceive their quest had barely begun.

After hours more passed, Leo began to whine. It was a strange noise—not his usual whine, but the one he reserved for times when he smelled food. At the same moment Kyra, too, smelled something—and Dierdre turned in the same direction and stared.

Kyra peered through the wood, but saw nothing. As they stopped and listened, she began to hear the faintest sound of activity somewhere up ahead.

Kyra was both excited by the smell and nervous about what that could mean: others were sharing this wood with them. She recalled her father’s warning, and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation. Not here and not now.

Dierdre looked at her.

“I’m famished,” Dierdre said.

Kyra, too, felt the hunger pangs.

“Whoever it is, on a night like this,” Kyra replied, “I have a feeling they won’t be keen to share.”

“We have plenty of gold,” Dierdre said. “Perhaps they will sell us some.”

But Kyra shook her head, having a sinking feeling, while Leo whined and licked his lips, clearly famished, too.

“I don’t think it’s wise,” Kyra said, despite the pains in her stomach. “We should stick to our path.”

“And if we find no food?” Dierdre persisted. “We could all die of hunger out here. Our horses, too. It could be days, and this might be our only chance. Besides, we have little to fear. You have your weapons, I have mine, and we have Leo and Andor. If you need to, you could put three arrows in someone before he blinked—and we could be far off by then.”

But Kyra hesitated, unconvinced.

“Besides, I doubt a hunter with a spit of meat will cause us all any harm,” Dierdre added.

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