Boreal

Chapter Twenty-Three

They came for Siskin and Ciarran the next day. Just Harrier, and Vivaan. There was no fanfare, and no reinforcements. Just the Guardian Captain and his dragon, neither in uniform. Siskin unlatched the door, inviting the pair inside. Ptarmigan was sat on the edge of his bed, holding Shyam close. He could barely keep his eyes open. A deep ache had settled through his bones.

"Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea?" Siskin asked, heading over into the kitchen. "Ciarran will be back soon, he's just taking one final flight."

"Something stronger if you have any," the other man replied, moving past the beds and into the kitchen. He case a wary glance to the open windows, to the balcony, as though expecting the great black dragon to return like a hound called back to its master at the mere sound of his name. Vivaan stayed framed in the hallways, all four eyes trained on the boy and his wyvern. Ptarmigan could feel the dragon watching, like spiders crawling across his chest and the top of his head. Siskin passed Harrier a glass of some golden liquid, and in one gulp the man swallowed it down. "Thank you."

"I expected more people," Siskin said. Harrier shrugged.

"They're preparing for the Long Race, the first wave leaves in six gongs. Most of the Guardians go with the first set, as you well know. If you'd played your cards right, you would've been free as a dove." Harrier eyed Siskin carefully as the man poured another glass of the liquid.

"There weren't any cards to play," his instructor snapped back, "Respectfully, captain, I don't even know what game we're playing." To that, Harrier had no response. What could he say? Siskin had already told them it wasn't him, he'd probably sang his innocence the night previous. Ptarmigan wanted to yell at them, that of course Siskin didn't know, but he bit his tongue. Because how else had Siskin's suit ended up lodged in Iyer's throat? An awkward silence settled, broken only by the sound of Siskin pouring himself a second glass. After a few minutes, Vivaan cleared his throat.

"If it is all the same, I will escort the children to the Citadel. The others will be bringing their wards there soon. It would be better if Ptarmigan and Shyam weren't seen," the dragon rumbled. His ears flicked, his head finally turning from the pair back to his racer. Harrier just nodded, waving his mount off.

"Grab what you need, Ptarmigan, Shyam, and go with Vivaan," the guardian captain snapped. Shyam opened her beak to argue, but Ptarmigan was already on his feet. He already had a bag packed, still left from the night he'd pretended to be staying over with Almas. He swung it over his shoulders, adjusted his cloak to better hide the bulge under his shirt where he'd hidden his knife, and with his head down picked his way over to where the dragon was waiting. Shyam chattered, picking at the tussled blankets, unwilling to leave the bed. Siskin sighed.

"Don't make this difficult, Shyam," their instructor pleaded. And he did plead; there was a desperate edge to Siskin's voice that seemed almost alien. Shyam was unmoved, or perhaps just oblivious.

"You ruined everything!" she seethed. "We should have just stayed in Hayd, then none of this would have happened!" The feathers along the back of her neck rose. She stamped her foot. Ptarmigan balked, surprised as she started to swear and spit hatred at everyone and everything. Siskin seemed taken aback for a moment too. Then, his expression softened.

"Its not forever, once the Long Season's up you'll be back. Then its just a few more days and we'll be off back to Hayd," he cooed. Still, the wyvern shook her head. She spread her wings, but instead of sweeping over to land on Ptarmigan's shoulders, she all but threw herself towards the balcony. Before Ptarmigan could blink, his wyvern was gone, vanished off into the burning sky. A hollow ache settled in Ptarmigan's chest as she fled. He kept his head hung, his gaze on the floor. Harrier huffed.