Page 12 of Queen’s Griffon (Swords & Tiaras #2)

Chapter 11

Avera

Avera had a problem.

And no, it wasn’t the fact no one would take her to Verlora.

Or the doubt suddenly creeping in about Opal’s motives.

Her problem was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome.

When Griffon told the sailors he might be marrying her, she’d had an inexplicable spurt of excitement that she quickly squashed because she wasn’t about to wed the man who’d kidnapped her and held her prisoner—a prisoner with a luxurious room, no tethers, and free reign of his castle and isle. However, the fact remained she couldn’t leave.

It rankled, especially since she’d found out so much about Verlora since her arrival. Not just the fall of it, but the country itself before its demise. The pirate isle held a surprising amount of literature, some of it brought by those who’d escaped as well as accounts written by those who’d survived. Between them, she’d gotten a fairly comprehensive overview of Verlora and its many modern amenities from running water—both hot and cold!—to commodes that were flushed with water. They had something they called trains run by steam engines, a method of transport that could traverse the continent, linking towns, carrying not only goods, but people, too. The more she read, and the more people she spoke to that were old enough to remember, the more she wished she could have seen Verlora in all its glory.

Alas, those same people were quite clear about its destruction, although, it should be noted not one mentioned the word dragon. Cursed by a monster, yes. Plagued by an evil force. Haunted by ghosts. She’d heard all kinds of theories as to why no one ever returned. No one, that was, except for a single man called Vinmo.

Supposedly, he’d sailed there with a brash group of explorers, young men able to fight and raring to be heroes. They’d set off in a skiff rather than sail their schooner into the mist.

Three days they were gone.

Three days of the captain keeping watch.

When the small boat reappeared, those left aboard the schooner thought it empty at first as it bobbed without direction or anyone manning the oars. The current pushed it out far enough the captain could retrieve it. In the bottom, lying huddled in a ball and unconscious, Vinmo, his skin burned in patches.

The doctor on board did his best to soothe the injuries, and while they did heal, they left deep scars, but none so deep as the one on Vinmo’s mind.

According to a sailor who’d been on that ship when Vinmo first woke, he’d screamed and kept screaming. The doctor had to drug him to make it stop. When next Vinmo regained consciousness, he didn’t speak. Ever. He did hide, however, cramming himself into tiny nooks, whimpering if someone tried to oust him. More than a decade later, apparently that hadn’t changed.

Vinmo still lived on Saarpira, if apart from the main colony. People brought him food, leaving it outside the little cave of stone he’d taken as his home, a broken man who acted as a reminder of the death and tragedy to those who ventured to Verlora.

With little else to do, and lacking more books to peruse, Avera went to visit him, not alone, though. The moment Simhi heard her plan to meet the lone survivor, she insisted on accompanying her.

They picked their way over rock, a proper path not having been created because, according to Simhi, “Vinmo don’t like trails that lead to him. Every time even a faint track appears, he changes locations.”

“That doesn’t make sense since everyone knows where he lives,” Avera pointed out.

“He’s fine with people knowing. I figure he’s worried whatever hurt him might come back to finish the job.”

“From another continent? Surely he can’t still believe that. It’s been more than a decade since that happened.”

Simhi shrugged. “Not for Vinmo. In his mind, every day he’s back on Verlora, facing and hiding from that threat. He relives it over and over again. Or so I assume. He hasn’t spoken since his return, although sometimes at night, if the wind is blowing just right, we can hear him wailing.”

“That sounds horrifying,” Avera murmured.

“Agreed. It’s such a shame what happened to him. He used to be such a handsome man. I was young, of course, when he and the others set off to explore, but I remember all the girls swooning and batting eyes in his direction.”

“Was he a good fighter?”

“Decent enough. They all were. It was a huge blow to have so many young men taken at once, but it also acted as a warning to those who’d been thinking of attempting the same thing.”

“No one’s returned to explore since?”

Simhi shook her head. “Not from here, but I can’t speak for other countries and ships.”

“As far as I know Daerva never sent any ships to check out the situation.” Avera frowned. “At least none that provided any records.” But she had to wonder. People had an innate sense of curiosity, and surely the lure of possible treasure would have drawn the intrepid.

The footing proved treacherous as they reached the far side of the isle, making talking more difficult as they concentrated on not twisting an ankle. Avera saw no sign of habitation and couldn’t help but be surprised when Simhi announced, “We’re here.”

Avera glanced around for a shelter or camp, but spotted nothing, unless the seabird nests counted. “Are you sure?”

Simhi nodded and pointed to a mound of stone. “He’s right in there.”

The slim crevice she’d indicated didn’t seem large enough for anyone to pass through, yet Simhi crouched in front of it and murmured, “Vinmo, I’ve brought you something to eat.” She placed the sack of produce in front of the hole and crept back a few paces.

An emaciated hand, pitted with scars, emerged to snatch it and Avera rocked on her heels. How could anyone live like this?

“I’ve brought you a visitor,” Simhi softly added. “The Queen of Daerva herself. Won’t you say hello?”

Not a sound emerged from the hidey hole.

Avera crept closer. “I know you don’t like to be disturbed, but I would really love to speak with you, please.”

At first Avera expected no reply, but slowly, movement barely audible over the sucking of the tide at their back resulted in a gaunt face peering through the crack. Sunken cheeks, sparse white hair, pitted marks on one cheek, the man appeared more like a person in their late years, not one only a decade older than Avera.

“Hello, Vinmo.” Avera waved. “I’m Avera.”

“The queen of Daerva,” Simhi added once more.

His bloodshot eyes widened, and his mouth opened as he exhaled roughly.

Avera kept her tone low. “I hear you went to Verlora many years ago.”

Vinmo held himself still and kept staring.

“I was hoping you’d tell me about your journey. I would very much like to hear what happened when you went ashore.”

“No.” The word emerged so faint that Avera thought she imagined it until it came again, louder and louder, accompanied by a violent shaking of his head. “No! No!”

Simhi tried crooning soothingly, “It’s okay, Vinmo. Nothing can hurt you here.”

“It hunts me.” The wraith emerged from his hole, hugging the tattered rags covering his upper body, glancing fearfully at the sky.

“What hunts you?” Avera asked, unable to take her gaze from the knotted streaks of scar tissue that peeked through the dirt and his clothing.

Vinmo crouched and with his head ducked whispered, “It’s angry.”

“What’s angry?” she repeated. “What did you see? What hurt you and your friends?”

“The beast.” Vinmo’s eyes welled with tears and his nose ran unheedingly as he croaked, “It hunted us from the sky, swooping like a bird, but no bird ever grew so big. It grabbed with its claws. Ate Kiro in one bite.”

Simhi stiffened beside her, but Avera kept focused on the man.

“What was this beast? Does it have a name?”

“Death!” he huffed. “Its name was death, and none could escape. We hid. Burrowed like rats. Thought we’d fooled it. The moment we emerged, it pounced. As it tore into Horkin, I ran,” he sniveled. “Ran so fast, but I couldn’t escape the green fire.”

Avera cast a quick glance at Simhi who shrugged and mouthed, Don’t know .

“Is this green fire what burned you?” Avera asked Vinmo.

He nodded and swallowed as he whispered, “I threw myself in the water to quench the flames and hid under the dock. I listened while the rest screamed.” His head ducked and she barely heard his next words. “I hid like a coward and let them die.”

Simhi reached out as if to pat his hand, but he snatched it close to his body. She tried to soothe. “You had no choice. The foe was too mighty.”

“Should never have gone,” he wailed. “We were punished. Punished for playing with things best left alone.”

“What did you play with?” Avera tried to clarify his statement.

“Not me. Them. Those who thought themselves smart,” he spat. “Toying in their laboratories. They made it angry.”

Avera shifted her position, but the unsteady rock caused her to almost unbalance. She thrust out a hand to catch herself and hissed as the ragged stone scraped her skin. Her palm came away bloody and she grimaced.

“You’re hurt.” To her shock, Vinmo grabbed her hand and tried to wipe the wound, only to freeze as his flesh came in contact with her blood.

His eyes widened and he began to shake. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Leave,” he yelled. “Leave before it sees me.”

“The monster isn’t here,” Simhi interjected. “It’s on Verlora.”

“For now. But it won’t stay there forever for it can see through her eyes. It sees me,” the man croaked. “Once prey is marked, it can never escape.”

“But you did escape,” Simhi insisted. “Remember? You’re safe here on Saarpira.”

“No one is safe. It will devour us all.”

With that claim, Vinmo tucked back into his hole and no amount of pleading would make him emerge.

They headed back to town with Simhi quiet for the first bit. Finally, she said, “That’s the first time he’s ever said anything coherent.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that coherent,” Avera grumbled. “He didn’t really tell us anything we didn’t know.”

“He confirmed there is a monster flyin’ around, spewing green flames that burn. I think the captain was right when he said it might be a dragon.”

Avera couldn’t hide her surprise and stumbled. “Griffon said so aloud?” Because when they’d spoken, he’d claimed to have never told anyone.

Simhi shook her head. “Not to me, but Kreed says he mentioned it one night when they were deep in their cups. A dragon would match Vinmo’s account.”

“Dragons aren’t real, though.”

“Or they’re extinct, like the pink whales that used to swim off Verlora’s northern coast.”

“If extinct, then how would one come back to life?” Avera argued.

“Could be Vinmo had it right. Maybe our scientists were playing with things best left alone.”

“I wonder why he seemed so frightened by me at the end,” Avera replied. Her hand still stung, and she glanced at the blood drying on it.

Simhi cast her a sly glance. “Because you’re special.”

“Not really.” Avera laughed, the sound tinny and slightly false.

“You might not see it, but others do. Like Vinmo. He chose to speak to you, a stranger, for the first time since his return. Not his mother, or friends.”

“And?”

“Something obviously makes you special.”

“Maybe he was impressed with you calling me queen.”

“Does he really seem the type to care?” Simhi kept going, not waiting for a reply. “And his reaction when he touched your injury… It’s as if your blood triggered something in him. He seemed to think you were connected to the monster on Verlora.”

“Doubtful. I’m human, meaning there can be no relation between me and the dragon or whatever creature is plaguing your country.” And yet she couldn’t help but recall the things her blood had done in the past. Dispelled Zhos’ ensorcelling mist, freed her friends and those trapped by its magic, crumbled Zhos’ monster-making altar. And now a terrified man claimed a murderous beast could see through her eyes.

“I don’t suppose seeing and hearing Vinmo has convinced you to stay far away from Verlora.”

“The right answer would be to claim I never want to go, but honestly, what else am I supposed to do?”

Simhi had an answer. “Become a pirate like me.”