Page 42 of From the Myths of Kings

The carriage rumbled across the snow-laden earth, the pounding of hooves muted against the frozen shroud. As they galloped along the edge of the coast, Rook’s unease multiplied.

From his vantage point, evidence of the War of the Age became more defined. Splintered ships and battered outposts sat petrified under a blanket of frost, perfectly preserved like a window into Revelore’s bloody past. Outdated weaponry and tarnished shields poked from underneath piles of snow. Rook had no doubt the bones of countless soldiers and enumerable weapons were buried under decades of inclement weather, lost to time and memory. He’d studied the Mer attack on Raj’s Point extensively at the insistence of his father but seeing the remains of the assault firsthand was surreal.

He could picture hordes of Mer warriors springing from the sea, clawing up the sides of moored ships and cutting through crates of military cargo, fueled by the untimely murder of their king. Inland, Raj’s Point had once been cradled by a bustling port city, half hidden in sea caves and half exposed to the cold elements of the north. It had been a hub of culture, housing merchants from all over the world as they exchanged their wares during the more amicable summer months. But like the skeletal dockyard, the buildings visible on land were now hollowed out and utterly abandoned.

Until now, Rook had always viewed the decimation of Raj’s Point through the lens of the Mer’s warmongering and inability to take ownership of Yrsa’s death. But now, he knew the harbor’s assault was the result Selussa’s scheming. It was still difficult to wrap his mind around the truth that the Sea Witch had been the instigator of a conflict that had rocked Revelore for a century.

Rook flew out the door the second their carriage halted before one of the snow-laced docks, his boots crunching in the hardened snow. He came to the front of the carriage, watching Aurelia tug off a scarf from her face. Her skin was flushed and wind-chapped, frost glittering on her translucent scales and eyelashes. Rook helped Aurelia down from the raised driver’s seat.

“Hel’s teeth,” came Aurelia’s tight-lipped whisper. She surveyed the barren land, coming to the same conclusion Rook had. “Where are they?”

“Maybe they ran into trouble. Perhaps the sea storms set them back a few days.”

Aurelia said nothing in return, worrying her lip between her teeth. There was no sign of the Tellusun merchant ship. In fact, there was no evidence of life at all.

“Something must’ve happened to them.” Aurelia raked her gaze across the frozen dockyards, bracing her hands on her hips.

“I’m sure they’ll be here by the end of the day, if not sooner,” Rook assured her. “And if not today, they’ll be here tomorrow. I’ve heard the storms of the Southern Sea have been quite aggressive lately. I’m sure they’ve just been delayed.”

“And if they don’t appear?” Aurelia began pacing, leaving agitated footprints in the snow. “What if something happened to them? We have no way of communicating.”

“There’s no use worrying just yet. We made good time. We arrived a little earlier than intended. I’m sure we’ll see their ship soon.”

Despite his easy platitudes, anxiety coiled in Rook’s stomach. What if Raven’s spies had somehow caught wind of a lone Tellusun merchant ship traveling through the Southern Sea? Had his sister known about Saoirse’s secret voyage the entire time she’d met with him at Widow’s Cove? His sister could’ve feigned ignorance, letting him believe their diversion on the Isles of Mythos had worked. His stomach dropped at the thought. Saoirse might be in an Auran interrogation chamber even now.

“I can fly to the eastern coast of Terradrin,” he found himself saying. “If they don’t arrive by tomorrow, I can search for them myself. They were supposed to anchor offshore. If something went awry in the Under Kingdom, their ship would presumably remain anchored beyond the coast.”

“But you’re too weak,” Aurelia argued. “You can’t possibly fly across Terradrin in your condition.” She looked him up and down, eyes leveling on the concealed stab wound that throbbed under his tunic. Evidently, she’d noticed every time Rook had winced in pain or dabbed feverish sweat from his brow, no matter how hard he’d tried to hide it. “We can take the carriage. We’ll go together.”

“No. It will be faster if I go alone. And more discreet. My sister’s spies are considerably more concentrated near the border of Terradrin. Our chances of being spotted increase tenfold if we take the carriage. Moreover, you need to wait here in case Saoirse’s ship does turn up. And if something were to happen, we’d lose valuable provisions if the carriage went down, not to mention our backup plan.” He gestured at the team of muscled winged horses that pawed against the snowy earth, four in total. “If the Tellusun ship cannot ferry us to the Northern Wastes as planned, we’ll need the carriage to get us there. We can’t risk losing it.”

“No,” Aurelia countered. “What if you lose consciousness mid air? You’re weak, Rook. If you’re captured, you could be held prisoner for high treason. Or worse, what if you’re shot out of the sky by Grivur’s soldiers? Not even your powerful sister could save you then.”

“Better me than you. Out of all of us, wouldn’t it be better for me to be captured? You said it yourself. I’m weak. You can accomplish the mission without me if something goes wrong. You, on the other hand, are not expendable. Saoirse won’t be able to get through this without you. Let me do this. I want to be helpful.”

Aurelia chewed anxiously on her lower lip. After a beat, she blew out a sigh, something like worry creasing her brow as she turned back to face Rook. Was she concerned for him? While she had been nothing but cordial with him, he would’ve thought the fearsome Mer captain wouldn’t have hesitated to send him off on a dangerous reconnaissance mission he might not come back from.

“All right,” she conceded. “If you do go, you must promise to fly back the moment you sense danger. If there is something amiss with Saoirse and Hasana, vow to me you will not try and save them on your own. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t try and be a hero. And if you don’t come back?”

The sorrowful tone of her voice shocked him with its earnestness. “I cannot promise I’ll come looking for you.”

“I promise I’ll come back if anything is wrong,” Rook vowed.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that. I’m sure Saoirse and her party will arrive any moment now. If the stars are on our side, there will be no need for you to venture to Terradrin on your own.” Rook nodded, praying the Mer captain was right.

Aurelia strode back toward their carriage and pulled out three leather packs from within. After shouldering a satchel, she tossed two at Rook. He caught the packs in midair. With one last sweep of the barren harbor, Aurelia looked toward the abandoned port village.

“Let’s make camp,” she tossed over her shoulder. “It’s going to be a long night.” Rook sensed Aurelia was desperate for a distraction, choosing to focus on the little things she could control instead of worrying over Saoirse. He didn’t blame her in the slightest, his own anxiety bubbling up at the back of his mind.

Aurelia turned to the team of winged horses and unhooked each of them from the carriage hitch. Taking the leading bridles of two of the beasts, she offered the remaining two to Rook. He accepted the leather bridles and followed Aurelia as they headed into the deserted village.

The winged horses that trailed behind him were several hands taller than he was, elegant necks swaying with their gentle gait. Their heavy footfalls thumped dully in the snow. The smaller of the two was dappled gray with a snowy-white mane and honey-brown eyes. The pristine white wings that sprouted from her broad shoulders cast shadows along the earth as the sun sank low on the horizon. Her name was Tesia if Rook remembered correctly. The other pegasus, Roan, was appropriately named after his coat of intermixed copper and white. His feathers were a smooth gradient of pale white that melted into a dark carob brown at the tips of his feathers.

“Do you think any of this is strange?” he asked them. “One moment, you were living in Coarinth as prized military horses and the next thing you knew, you were flying halfway across the world in the company of two strangers.” The winged horses stared back at him silently, plodding along through the snow without complaint. “You never had a choice in the matter, did you? You and I are very much alike in that regard, I suppose.” The two pegasi blinked at him with thick eyelashes, the warm depths of their eyes flickering with intelligence.

The famed Auran stables were renowned throughout Revelore. The winged horses were said to be some of the last ancient creatures from the Myths of Old to walk the earth. Like sirens and hydras, pegasi were supposedly created by the Titans at the dawn of time. Legend had it that the first Auran king, Aris, had asked the Titans for a suitable wedding gift for his bride, the Tellusun Huntress, Vasia. Aris begged the Titans to give her the gift of flight, for he longed to soar through the clouds with her at his side. In answer to this request, the winged Titan Deinos gave Aris a horse with wings. Thus, the first pegasus was created. At the time, Deinos couldn’t have known his creation would one day be used against his divine kin. It was said that Vasia rode her steed to battle against the great basilisk Ventus, a giant snake that served the Titan of the Desert, Nasoor. From the back of her beloved pegasus, Vasia shot her ruby arrow through the basilisk’s eye and felled the beast. His lifeless serpentine body was dragged back into the earth, never to be seen again.

As legend turned to myth and myth turned to fanciful folklore, the divine origins of Aurandel’s famous winged horses were long forgotten. The only reason Rook knew their origin story was because of the many hours he’d spent on the roof looking up at the night sky in his youth. Vasia’s fabled pegasus, Asterope, was one of the many constellations Raven had taught him to identify in the sea of stars. But Rook had never thought much of the winged horses in his family’s royal stables. Like most of Revelore, he’d always considered the Myths of Old to be archaic fables, fabricated stories to explain the mysteries of their world. That is, until he’d seen myths come to life before his very eyes.

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