“I am here. For my message.” That was not nearly urgent enough. “There are people I must heal. A child and a wyfe.”
the song is broken. blight spreads in the east
“I do not know how to help songs or blight. I want to help two people. Please.”
only two? show me what you carry
I pulled out the little bag of tea leaves, enough for a single cup. When nothing happened, I walked close and sank on my heels.
In the grass around us, fallen scales gleamed. The facets of the wyvern’s eyes were pitted and cloudy like poor glass, and his head had an uncertain cant, so I opened the bag and held it close. He leaned to bring one eye near.
you are as she thought you would be. the heiress to her skills, but stronger. already these have power
“Not enough. The child is too ill. Every day I see the disease eating her away.”
one child. the world is besieged
“Healing is a small thing,” I whispered.
The wyvern’s weary head lifted in startled surprise. When at last he resumed, his tone was wondering.
my eyes rot, wyfe, but my vision clears. the wyverns hold the lore. never has one waited so long. never has one’s vision seen so far. say for a third time: how many would you save?
“Two. Just two. A child and a wyfe.”
The wyvern took a step. His feet had lost their claws, and his gait was unsteady, his toes scabbed and webbed. In the clearing around us, leaves and grass rustled. Small creatures of the forest were gathering—rabbits, crows, squirrels, foxes. Watching.
He pressed his cheek to my hand so the bag and tea were beneath his eye. A single golden drop gathered and rolled into the dried, green leaves.
her gift. to cure the child. only the child
That eye clouded until it was the opaque gray of dusty stone. Along his flank, a strip of brown scales shed like dense seeds, each descent sudden and quick.
“What of the wyfe?” I said. “I must save her, too.”
He turned his head the other way, and his remaining eye clouded to stone as a golden tear gathered. It rolled down, and I caught it on my palm as it fell from his jaw. It shone in the sunlight, then sank into my skin. A sense of pureness filled me.
“I will give Nessy the tea. But what do I do with this?” He did not answer. “What message did Lady Anne leave for me?”
you already knew her message: ‘healing is a small thing, born in love.’ stay true to your path, wyfe, and you will save three lives today
Save a third life. That sounded more ominous than good.
The wyvern’s head shuddered and clunked down a handbreadth. Gleaming, jet-black shoulder blades split the skin of his back, then he collapsed in a mound of skin, scale, and clean bone.
The gathered creatures swarmed forward. Rabbits and crows caught leathery shreds or tiny phalanges in their mouths and left. Squirrels stuffed their cheeks with scales and climbed trunks. Foxes lifted the heavy bones and padded off, tails waving. All were common creatures, not draca, and they carried their burden with reverence.
The bright sunlight vanished as if it had never been, leaving cold twilight, but brighter than before. Dawn.
The decayed mound of the fallen tree was at my knees. I touched the ivy, felt a hard edge, and tugged free an obsidian jaw bone with a few knife-edged teeth attached. Hard clay and tangled roots clung from years of rest.
In the dawn light, my clothes were completely ruined, my boot seam hanging. My belly had shrunk to a cramped, empty knot. My throat was thick with thirst.
Ahead of me, the path continued through the trees. I looked behind. The path I had walked was still there, not vanished. But retracing all those steps was quite unappealing.
I tucked the jaw bone back into its bed. “You were most loyal and brave. It is strange that the message is one I already knew, but I think ‘Stay true to your path’ means just what it says.”
I pushed to my feet, tucked loose strands of hair into my bonnet, and slogged north.
