Danrick became a widower, running, Sray returns to Geteilpohth, Aitnu's amnesia, Danrick and Teigan
Danrick stared at the map laid out on the massive drafting table. It took up the whole space, over six feet wide and four feet long showing Alast and all its features in exquisite detail. There was a small table beside the stool, full of paints, brushes, pencils, and mal sticks of various lengths. He touched the edge of the map. It would never be finished. His eyes found Envawn and he carefully touched the mark for Tolenoy, then he traced the route in the air above the surface down to the sea and brushed against the landing point on Ostrin. This point was fairly filled in, a half dozen trips back and forth, all uneventful and leaving her giddy, arms full of notes to translate onto the canvas. The mysteries of the continent to the South slowly being discovered through the tireless work of many hands and this was her contribution. The bottom quarter of the map was just a vague outline of northern Ostrin, various points on the coast carefully painted and labeled. Rivers crept inland and shifted from vibrant paint to penciled lines. Some of her notes were sticking out from under the palette.
He sat heavily on the stool and propped his elbows on the end of the drafting table and put his head in his hands. The map would never be finished. The project she had poured hours, days, years into would sit perpetually incomplete.
His shoulders shuddered. He would never be complete again.
I think there was an attempt to cover up that dragons were involved.
This could really be anyone, anywhere. My impression is it's Kem Aldai and she's in Kamenlohn, having traveled with Sray and Kallon for the trial, but it doesn't seem to want to keep going so I'm throwing in the towel and leaving it at two paragraphs.
She fumbled with the buttons and cursed as she tripped. Her hand touched the wall and checked her balance as she kept running. She pulled the coat back over her shoulder and tried for at least one button to secure the thing. "Ha!" Success. She kept running down the hall. This place was a maze, but she was finally on track. If she kept her pace she might just be early instead of late.
She pushed open the door and shuddered against the cold air, hurriedly fumbling at the buttons again as she jogged down the steps. All it took was one wrong turn to get her behind.
Sray left the main camp behind and boldly crossed the Milash River. Her mule, Behlsh, sloshed through the belly-deep water and mounted the far bank effortlessly. When the camp was well out of sight Sray exhaled, let the reins slide, and closed her eyes, taking in the country she left behind over fifteen years ago.
The early summer sun was warm and strong, even through the slight breeze that shushed in soft bursts through the scanty desert shrubs. Behlsh slowed and shifted her weight to her haunches before stepping carefully down into a ravine where the air temperature dropped noticably. Sray followed the movements, trusting the molly's impeccable balance and surefootedness as her hips dipped and slid with the movements of the molly's back and legs. Birds chirped and chittered, flapping the staccato beat of small, broad songbird wings.
She could still smell the water and hear the rumble of the Milash moving through its course. Loose rock scraped and scattered under Behlsh's hooves as she mounted the far side of the ravine, lifting Sray with her. At the top the molly paused, tail swishing and blowing the dust from her nostrils in short, powerful bursts. Her body shifted and Sray opened her eyes to see Behlsh staring back, her large ears up questioning where next.
He jerked awake. He found himself on his toes and hands, breathing fast and ready to dash off. There was no one nearby. He poked his head above the grasses. Nothing. What was he afraid of? In the far distance, probably some forty miles away, he could see the ocean meet the horizon. Where was he? He sat down. As his panic settled he realized his head hurt. He brought his hands up and felt something dry and crusty matting down his hair. He narrowed his eyes at the small red-brown flakes and powder on his fingers. Dried blood. He looked up again. He couldn't see anyone. He couldn't sense anyone.
Where was he? Grasses and some shrubbery stretching as far as the eye could see up into rolling hills and down to the seashore. There may have been some sort of settlement on the coast. It was hard to tell at this distance, but there were shapes that didn't seem to belong clustered in an area near the water. It didn't feel familiar. It didn't look right. This wasn't where he belonged, but he couldn't quite form a picture of where he should be either.
Something wet hit his back. He jerked to see behind him, another drop struck his nose and he squinted upwards at the grey sky. Just rain. Why was he on edge? He tried to remember, but the headache made it hard to concentrate. The rain started coming down harder. It was a warm storm, no need to take cover and prevent a chill. Not that there was much out here to take cover under.
He let the rain wash the blood from his hair and the dirt from his body. He must have been running from something or someone. It was probably safe to assume whatever it was had caused his head trauma, which felt healed once the dried blood was removed. That wasn't too surprising, shape-shifting helped any wound heal faster. He just had the lingering headache.
He wiped his face and put his head in his hands, trying to remember how he got there. He was drawing a blank. Vague impressions, flashes of color and light, snippets of sound and brief sensations, but none of it really coming together, like it had all been one long, terrifying nightmare up to that point.
---
"I don't like boats." Aitnu admitted.
"Why not?"
His pained expression said more than his words. "I don't know. They just feel ... they feel like something terrible happened."
"It was my father, alright? He came to find out what happened to me."
Kem was uncharacteristically quiet in response.
"What, Kem."
"Sorry, Sray. I- that explains it. Sorry."
"You can't help it."
---
"What will you do to the ones who did this when you catch them?" Teigan asked.
"What I want to do and what I must do are not the same. They will be shipped to Kamenlohn to the seat of the Brotherhood's power to be judged of their crimes against the Brotherhood. They may have done it in protest of Sray's induction, but this action may as well have been against the Brotherhood itself. She is one of us and an attack on her is an attack on us all."
Teigan watched Danrick Mishor carefully as the man spoke. "You would protect her as your own?" He asked.
"Of course." Mishor said.
---
"If it were up to me I would ship them across the Zethennis sea to Ostrin and leave them to fend for themselves."