Finally found the time to get another chapter out, apologies for the wait and sorry that it's not longer! Silverhame, thank you, I've added you! I'm definitely planning on continuing and am trying to make updates less sporadic. And yes, hail Glademomma! I am a recent convert from Ice. :)
It was after ten minutes or so that Quint started to wonder if he’d been tricked.
At first he’d taken his task seriously, taking stock of what he had at his disposal. The armory was a narrow but long room, curving back along the outer edge of the lair. A good amount of their food had been stored here, probably to protect it from the dampness of their kitchens, and the walls were lined with weapon racks. Quint had been expecting rows of shiny swords and spears, and so was disappointed to find them mostly empty. Here or there a couple long-forgotten blades rested on the wooden frames, but most were too rusted to even tell what kind of weapon they used to be.
Moodily, Quint aimed a kick at one of the racks; the remains of the sword it held crumbled to pieces under the impact. How was he supposed to defend the armory with no weapons? Actually...with only one entrance, how was he supposed to defend the armory at all?
He fluttered back along the room to the door, his sense of unease growing. The door’s heavy bar had clunked into place when it had shut; Quint tentatively pushed at it with one hand – and then with two, less tentatively. It refused to budge, even when he threw all his strength behind it. He was locked in.
Quint took several steps back, panic growing in his chest. Forget about the nochnyr – Chime and Raust were going to get themselves killed, and then he was going to be trapped in here forever. Would he starve to death first, or freeze to death? He was already cold even with his sweater, and it wasn’t going to get any warmer.
I have to get out. Scrambling away from the door, he took off down the corridor-like room, pushing at blocks of ice or chunks of rock that looked like they might shift. None of them did, and when he reached the far end of the armory he rocked back on his haunches, staring. What was he going to do?
Looking for any answer at all in the wall before him, he noticed a dull glint of metal – something half-buried in the ice. A key? A secret door handle? Heart in his mouth, he scrabbled at the layers of frost, uncovering leather and rusty steel. It was a cleaver, and more like something you’d see in a kitchen than an actual weapon. Nothing that would help him right now.
Out of options, he sank to the floor. No wonder his father wanted to get out of the pyrite business.
He didn’t realize he’d been in a kind of hazy stupor until a thud sounded outside his door. Immediately taking to the air, he hovered for a moment, wondering if he’d imagined it.
A second thud. Nope.
Remembering the cleaver, he dove for the rusty handle and gave it a yank. The blade didn’t come free, but it moved. “Come on. Come on.” He tugged on it again, viciously, and
thank Plaguebringer the weapon emerged in one piece from the ice. Armed, he grimly turned his back to the wall. Who knew how long the door would hold; there was a good chance he was about to face dozens of nochnyr with a piece of cookware in his hand. For the second time today.
As he watched in trepidation, a thin board appeared in the crack between door and wall, moving this way and that until it found the latch. Quint waited, cleaver raised. The instant the bar creaked upward and the door began to move, he launched himself at it, some kind of feral scream launching from his mouth.
“Whoa!”
His charge led him face-to-face with a very startled Chime; his cleaver had missed her by inches, clattering to the floor as he dropped it at the last second.
“
Mon Dieu!” The spiral had her hand over her heart, uncharacteristically alarmed. “Quint, my friend, why are you trying to kill me?”
Immediately feeling shaky, Quint dropped to the ground. “Sorry,” he buzzed, when the adrenaline rush subsided enough to allow words. “Thought you were a nochnyr.”
“I would like to think I’m not so spindly looking.”
“You should not have locked me in there. I could have fought with you.” His relief at being freed – and at not murdering Chime – were quickly subsiding. “I was trapped in there!”
“Ah.
Désolé...the latch sticks sometimes. You have to jimmie it. I am sorry about that. Anyway, everyone’s alive – except the nochnyr – and we have a savior. Come and meet her.”
Quint wasn’t ready to forgive – or believe her excuse about the latch – but her words stopped him from rebutting. Savior?
Chime led the way back down into the lair, past hallways littered with slain nochnyr, which Quint uneasily avoided. He was about to press her for more information when raised voices sounded from the temple ahead.
“Well,
Commander, I know that exactly one of us is an ordained healer—“
“Yes,
Father. From where I’m standing, it appears that same dragon cannot exactly reach the open wounds in his own side—“
“If you’d just let me try—“
“—and I am
well acquainted with field dressing, thank you very much.”
There was a distressed chirping sound, and the argument temporarily ceased. “Now look what you’ve done,” came the gravelly female voice.
“My good sirs,” Chime cut in smoothly as they rounded the final corner into the temple. Quint instantly felt nauseous; it looked like a war zone. In the middle of the room, an unfamiliar armor-clad nocturne sat perched on the edge of a pew, staring down in exasperation at Raust. The skydancer looked a little pale, but was glaring up at her defiantly. Both dragons whipped their heads toward Chime at the sound of her voice, and began talking immediately.
“I won’t tolerate insubordination—“
“Tell her that—“
“Enough,” Chime cut them off, her voice mild. “Everyone is a little on edge,
non? You’re scaring the baby. Oh, and watch out,” she added to Quint. He barely had time to process her words before something came flying out of his peripheral vision, colliding heavily and nearly knocking him off his feet. “Oof.”
He looked down at the guardian hatchling in astonishment, and it looked back with wide eyes. What in the Plaguebringer’s name was going on?
Raust was talking again, looking imploringly in Chime’s direction. “Tell her that—that...” His words were losing their strength, and he suddenly swayed on his feet. The spiral was by his side in an instant, catching him before he fell. The nocturne quickly joined her. “Nothing I can’t fix,” the stranger said shortly, “but he’s lost a good amount of blood. I need you to help hold him still while I stitch this up.”
Chime hesitated a moment before replying, and her voice was quiet; Quint had to lean forward to hear her words. “I am choosing to trust you, Sigrid. Do not let him...do not let me down.”
The nocturne glanced at her briefly, then nodded before turning her head to look in Quint’s direction. “Too many civilians in my med tent. You, take the hatchling, get out.”
Quint bristled at the command and was preparing to argue when he noticed that the hatchling beside him was trembling. “Mara?” it squeaked out in a tiny voice.
It’s probably terrified, Quint realized, anger draining away. “Come on,” he told the little creature, “let’s go somewhere with fewer corpses, yeah?”
Placing a tentative hand on the hatchling’s horn, he guided it out of the room. He aimlessly wandered the halls for a little while, and the hatchling trundled along after him, occasionally letting out a frightened squeak whenever they passed too close by aftermath of the battle.
Eventually he found himself in the kitchen, where the remains of the morning’s fire was still smoldering in the hearth. “Hang on,” he muttered, maybe to the hatchling, maybe to himself. There was still some wood piled up next to the stove, so he grabbed it and heaved it over to the sputtering flames, arranging the pieces carefully until he started to feel the fire’s warmth leech some of the chill from his bones.
The hatchling finally seemed to calm down; she slowly relaxed, curling up in front of the fire like a cat. “Mara?” she asked again, beseeching him with wide eyes.
“Quint,” he told her. “Mara, yeah? You have any clue what’s going on?”
