Thursday 25 June 2009

Cymru - Chapter 17

AERONA

Adara, Aerona decided, was less scary once she'd adopted you as some sort of ally, and fortunately she had fairly simplistic views on what qualified people as allies. Apparently, negative discussion of Owain was sufficient, and Aerona was quite happy to oblidge. The man seemed dreadful, and unfortunately possessing of one or two parallel traits with Morgan. She'd have to keep an eye on Morgan. Apparently the end game wouldn't be pretty.

"And he was one of those people," Adara was saying now as she adjusted the straps on her arm guards, "who had to look good, all the time, in front of everyone. You know? And I don't just mean physically." She sniffed, apparently disgusted at the memory. An apprentice cook scurrying past positively fled from her. Adara didn't seem to notice. "If ever anyone proved him wrong in anything, or mocked him for something - didn't matter how good-natured it was - he'd suddenly be sulking like a six-year-old and trying to order everyone about. And that was bad."

Aerona giggled. Adara also had a habit of explaining what your emotional response to an anecdote should be, a habit Aerona was finding wildly amusing.

"Oh, I know about six-year-old sulking," she nodded. "It's bad enough at that age."

"I know!" Adara said, aggrieved. "And he was twenty - hang on, how old am I? Twenty-something. But seriously! He was just this freakish man-child. He was a big inappropriate."

"Gods, yes," Aerona agreed earnestly. "And I mean, especially in an Alpha Wing, you really want someone to be a bit more mature than that, don't you?"

"Owain dreamed of maturity," Adara said darkly. "I think he just thought it was a word that applied to cheese, though. That's what Awen said once, anyway."

Oh? Aerona thought. That was interesting.

"To him?" she asked aloud. Adara grinned.

"Yes," she said reminiscently. They reached the ground floor and started down into the dungeons; Aerona tried not to shiver at the change in air quality. "We weren't supposed to see, of course; they never argued in public, not even in front of us."

"But they did?" Aerona pressed. Adara nodded, satisfied.

"Oh yes," she said happily. "If he started getting out of hand she'd take him off to one side to Have Words." Somehow, Aerona could actually hear the capital letters. "Very privately, of course, Awen knew how to handle him. At least one of us would try to follow, but Awen can always tell." Adara shook her head, apparently lost for a moment in admiration for her Wingleader's radar skills. "Anyway, I do remember the one time she didn't stop us. I think they must have been arguing all day, because she was so angry with him she didn't notice us for once."

"Wow." Useful information. They paused at the first set of gates for a guard to let them through. "How did he feel about her?"

"Complicated." Adara glanced at Aerona, something irrepressively expressive in her eyes. She was really enjoying laying into her former Deputy here. It reminded Aerona a bit of Carys and Morgan. "He never liked being Deputy, certainly; he wanted to be Leader so he could be all famous and bossy. That was always a problem for him. But he also liked her."

"Oh," Aerona said. "Well, that's nice, anyway."

"No," Adara said, her lips quirking slightly in the most scurrilously mischievous smile Aerona had ever seen as she glanced across again. "No, I mean, he liked her. For years. In a slightly creepy, pathetic sort of way that made me want to wash. Awen thought it was just because she was Leader; power as an aphrodisiac, you know?"

Well, that was shocking on a grand scale. Turned out, Casnewydd's Alpha Wing were fascinating.

"So," Aerona said, her head spinning, "he was both attracted to her and wildly jealous of her at the same time?"

"I did say 'complicated'," Adara grinned. They stopped as the second gate was opened for them, hinges screaming their neglect. "He sort of looked down on and up at her at the same time, too. He was a big egotistical," she said as a sagacious aside, nodding to Aerona, who giggled again. "So naturally he thought he could do a better job as Wingleader. But, I mean, she's an Alpha Wingleader. You'd have to be a special kind of stupid to serve under Awen and not think that she's amazing at it, they don't let cretins do it; so he sort of respected that. And, oh, he was very over-protective of her."

Adara frowned to herself slightly, and Aerona tried not to laugh. It was perfectly understandable, of course it was, but it was a rather rich accusation coming from Adara.

"You'll admit," she began, grinning, and Adara waved her off.

"I know, I know," she said, rubbing both hands over her face. They stopped for the final gate. "I'm overwrought right now. Like iron. That's not the point. He was like it even when he didn't need to be, and that's abnormal, like the amount of oil he produced."

"Such as?" Aerona asked. This close to the cells she could almost smell the fear; in a nearby interrogation room a lichtor was singing softly as he cleaned his tools. Someone was sobbing somewhere, a broken sound that filled the stone passages far too well.

"Lord Flyn," Adara said quietly, and abruptly all of Aerona's attention managed to spring forth and impale itself upon Adara's words. "Almost always around Lord Flyn. Who is, himself, always weird around Awen too, but that's because he's a megalomaniacal freak with control issues; you expect it from a Sovereign."

Do you? Aerona thought. That was possibly true, she supposed, since she wasn't in an Alpha Wing, and certainly wasn't a Wingleader, but she was fairly certain that not all Sovereigns were especially odd around their Riders.

"This is us," Adara murmured suddenly. She motioned the guard to unlock the tiny cell door and stood back, turning to Aerona. "He's delicate at the moment," she said, her tone as lightly conversational as ever, as though she was simply explaining how to keep a harness clean. "He's worried half to death about his family. I've stitched the wound, but the guards here apparently felt the need to let it fester overnight, because they're blisteringly stupid."

Her expression rather adequately said what she thought of that. Aerona agreed. Even if the assassination attempt had been Gareth's plan all along, it was remarkably asinine to simply leave your witness to bleed out before questioning.

"I'll get one of the druids to see to it at the Union," Aerona promised. She fixed her kindest smile onto her face as the guard stepped away to let Adara open the door; she'd considered using her brightest smile, but that might have seemed insensitive, given the circumstances. Which was a shame. Aerona loved smiling her brightest smile.

As Adara opened the door it became abruptly clear that the sobbing had been coming from the pale, lanky teenager, folded tightly into a ball on the floor of the tiny cell. He looked up at the sound of the hinges and Aerona didn't think she'd ever seen anyone look so lost in her life before. He was young, and he was in an impossible situation that he simply couldn't deal with, and in his face he almost looked like one of the children. Her heart went out to him.

All the more so when Adara crouched down to him and he all but crawled into her arms, shaking from head to toe. Adara pulled him upright carefully, turning him to face Aerona. Clearly, a nurturing persona did not come easily to her; she was too much warrior, too many sharp edges.

"This is Aerona, Gareth," Adara said quietly. "She's a friend of mine. She's going to take you to the Union where you'll be safe, while Leader Awen and I go to Casnewydd to get your mam and grandmother. Okay?"

"The Union?" Gareth asked, eyes wide and voice strangled as he looked at Aerona. It was understandable; the Union was a place that only saw Riders and Sovereigns, Archdruids and Prifarddau. Only the upper echelons of society went to the Union. It was the headquarters of the Riders and the seat of the Archwiliadau. It was the centre of all Cymric society. People like Gareth never even saw it in their lifetimes, much less stepped inside. It would be a bit much for him to take in even on a normal day.

"Yes," Aerona said, her smile firmly in place. "We've spoken to Lord Gwilym, and he doesn't want to punish you, Gareth. He knows you were forced to do it. He's released you into Union custody so that we can keep you safe until this is all over. Is that okay?"

Not that he really had a choice, but Aerona suspected it would be best to give him one right now. He needed to know they were seeing him as a person, not a commodity. Asking his opinion was a nice, quick way to do that.

"Yes," he whispered, nodding his head. His eyes weren't leaving Aerona. "Please."

"Okay," she said gently, and held out a hand to him. He took it, his fingers clammy with chilled sweat and shaking with adrenaline, and she thought: a Sovereign did this. His Sovereign.

On some days, Aerona was truly glad she was a Rider.

****

As promised Adara had picked out a transport carriage, discretely small enough that it could be pulled by a single meraden. As an additional bonus she'd apparently examined every available Driver thoroughly before making her selection and conscripting the woman. Judging by the traumatised look in the Driver's eye, Aerona suspected Adara had been persuasive, to say the least. Adara was mental, Aerona decided. In a good way, certainly, but utterly mental. One day in the future someone was going to write a book about this Wing, and no one would believe it wasn't wildly exaggerated.

"There's a change of clothes in there if you want them," Adara explained to Gareth now as they guided him in. "And Aerona will be right alongside you the whole way if you need anything. Apparently she'll make you sing, which is funny."

"I'll have you know it's perfectly sensible," Aerona mock-sniffed as she tightened Briallu's harness. After flying most of the way across the country that morning the mare wasn't overly keen on going again, but two hours' rest had done her a world of good. "Everyone loves a sing-song. Don't you love a sing-song, Gareth?"

He looked like a hare before an owl.

"Um," he said nervously. "My dad sang?"

"Excellent!" Aerona beamed. "We'll play games, too. Everyone loves games."

"Now you've unnerved him," Adara said mildly. "Don't worry. She's very unnerving. We all think so."

Aerona giggled at the incredulous look the harrassed Driver threw Adara, and jumped up onto Briallu's back. It ought to take just shy of an hour to get to the Union, she thought; the winds didn't look too strong, and the sun would be behind them, happily. From her position in the Landing Tower doorway at the end of the runway she could see Aberystwyth nestled into its hills, the Great Darkgate looming to her left while the marketeers bustled to her right. The sky looked cloudless and endless, near-perfect flying conditions.

"Still here?" Awen's voice asked from behind them. "I think Adara's delayed response times are rubbing off on everyone today."

"Oh, I'm just used to getting ready at a six-year-old's pace," Aerona grinned. She started buckling up the harness on one side, and Awen came forward to do the other for her. Her left shoulder seemed a lot looser suddenly than it had twenty minutes ago, but Aerona decided not to address that particular pink elephant. "Since I'm going to the Union now," she muttered, lowering her voice so it wouldn't carry, "I thought I might look through the Archives."

Awen glanced up briefly, green eyes carefully unreadable. "Thank you," she said neutrally. Aerona nodded and looked back out at the city below, Briallu snorting and shaking her head below her. The Archives could give them a lead on Owain, and hopefully that would free Awen up to simply chase after Flyn and his Saxons.

And, of course, Aerona would have a far more neutral perspective on Owain than either Awen or Adara. Considering how complicated he apparently was, that could only be a good thing.

"Now, you see how Aerona's meraden is standing still?" Adara said as she approached, towing two merod behind her including the monster that Awen had been riding earlier. "That's what they're meant to look like."

"So I hear," Awen sighed. The beast in front of her whickered at the sight of her and surged forward, pulling his reins clean out of Adara's hand and trotting happily to Awen, who shook her head.

"Such an embarrassment," she muttered, and Aerona giggled and patted Briallu's neck. Gareth stared at them all, his jaw open. He'd probably never seen this many Riders up close, either, Aerona mused. A bit of a culture shock all round, bless him. "Right. You guys need to get going; the sooner you're in the Union the happier I'll be."

"Indeed!" Aerona gestured to the Driver, who obediently released the final catches anchoring the carriage and allowed it to start rising. She Saluted Awen and Adara who both returned it as Briallu spread her wings and picked herself delicately off the ground, swishing her tail lazily. Aerona smiled. "Good luck!" she called back to them, and then they were off, the carriage meraden moving smoothly onwards as Briallu matched it wingbeat for wingbeat.

"Right!" she called to Gareth merrily as he watched the ground recede beneath them in something akin to stunned awe. "We'll be about an hour. Do you by any chance know how to play the Shop Game?"

Well, the afternoon didn't have to be a total loss.

3 comments:

Blossom said...

Excellent! This really is such an engaging story, Quoth! Proper page-turner. Which reminds me: write more!!

Exciting plot twist about Owain, too. Looking forward to seeing how that bit develops. Last line of this chapter made me laugh, too! :-)

Steffan said...

Good chapter - nice to see some more Aerona. I think I have a soft sppot for Ordinary People in Extraordinary Situations. Gareth's a bit of a turd, though, and although it makes sense that Aerona feels sorry for him, he's surely too criminally dull to be excused his assassination attempt. If he was still, in quiet dignity, standing his ground and asking after his family, I'd have more patience. As it is, he doesn't *deserve* the Shop Game.

Quoth the Raven said...

Ah. Er... sorry. I never really had much of a plan for Gareth. The result is a hastily tacked-on boring name and a similar personality. And he's very, very badly written. I'm so sorry. If it helps just imagine that he was really shit at it until they had to settle on flying in awkward, snivelling silence.