Legends: The Peace Treaty

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley - of course not, for this isn’t a valley, it’s a desert,” Ciara grumbled under her breath as she fumbled with the ropes and pegs of her small dragonhide tent. Although the night sky above was still a pleasant pink, the hills surrounding the small oasis cast long shadows, draining the faint light from being. The young girl struggled and swore under her breath, huffing as loose strands of strawberry blonde fell into her eyes. She wondered what exactly had possessed her to fly until the night was practically upon her and the faint roars of the Northern dragons resonated in the air. She should have stopped earlier, set up camp early enough to see what she was doing or at least far enough that a small fire would not become a giveaway of her location. To make matters worse, it meant that her dragon, Hudz, would not be able to hunt.

This whole trip had not gone the way she imagined. Ciara had always been a wild child - she was a good fighter and a strong flier, she knew her way around survival and traveling. In her mind, she would easily follow the Nordic delegation South, staying out of sight and easily proving her father and his warriors wrong as she kept herself safe and fed. In reality, she was running out of food and had more bruises and scratches on her than she could count. Each day brought a new array of problems and dangers from wolf packs and angry buffalo to inhospitable environments. The further South she went with her dragon, the more she wondered what possessed her to defy reason and fly to Caladin, the huge empire where the Nordic delegation was heading. Naturally, she was not part of it.

“A desert of nothing and no one,” Ciara grumbled, sitting back on her heels and huffing in frustration. “There is a reason no dragons are in this valley, because none are stupid enough to enjoy this wasteland!”

From his curled up position at the base of two red dirt hills, Hudz raised his white head, blue eyes questioning his rider’s words. In her mind, Ciara clearly felt his emotions - confusion and slight annoyance. Rocking back and forth, she bit her lip. The exhaustion was setting in for both of them the further they flew. She pushed her partner to new heights literally and metaphorically, asking the young dragon to push his limits as he tried to make up time with the delegation. Initially, they were a few days behind but the Northern landscapes were familiar and welcoming. As they gained ground however, it became harder to track the group, each mile they covered more tedious. A few times, they lost their query, having to circle their tracks and hope that they could catch up. For the first time in years, Hudz and Ciara had a fight. The white beast refused to communicate for a whole night, hissing any time she approached. As they reached the edges of the Celtic domains, Hudz seemed to lose more and more of his happy-go-lucky demeanor.

Annoyed as she was and exhausted from constantly being on edge, Ciara knew her words hit a sore spot. It was by her desire and ambition that Hudz was now in this wasteland, as she had put it, hungry and sore with no possibility to hunt and sensing the Nordic dragons nearby. It didn’t help that the weather was much warmer than the white preferred - raised in the highest caves of the Northern Mountains, the scorching sun and icy nights they now encountered drained the pair of any remaining reserves they had and each morning, it was harder and harder to keep going. The only reason her dragon continued to fly steadily onward was because of his love for her.

“I’m sorry Hudz, I didn’t mean you,” Ciara stood up, brushing the dust off her hands and approaching her companion. The blue eyes narrowed, assessing her as the young beast sent an image of an angry owl, his way to communicate disbelief. Coming to stand beside him and not breaking eye contact, the young rider extended her palm, allowing the white to decide if he forgave her. “I’m tired too and…It’s just, we’re so close to making this work. They can’t send us back now.”

Sighing, the soft snout pressed up against the cold fingers, breathing a gust of warm air. Taking the peace offering, Ciara wrapped her arms around the fluffy neck, burrowing her face in the familiar scent - somehow, even after their journey, Hudz managed to smell of fresh rain and mountain flowers. Stretching around, the dragon returned her hug, enveloping the young girl in warmth. They stayed like that as the sun grew indigo, the stars shining upon the rough lands below. Eventually, as Ciara relaxed, Hudz sent her another series of images. He shared his flock, a variety of Nordic dragons, sleeping nearby and a sense of loneliness.

“You’re right, we should just get this over with,” Ciara whispered into his ear. “The sooner we face the Righ, the better.” The white dragon purred in encouragement, nudging her towards her packs, lying in a disarray on the cold ground. “At the very least, they won’t leave us hungry. I hope.”

It didn’t take Ciara long to pack up her failed campsite - the bags were tied back to her dragon’s light saddle and her weapons checked. Making a small prayer to the Elder Drakes to sway the Nordic dragons’ wrath, she slid onto Hudz and nodded. Although he couldn’t see her, the white purred once more, his jaw spreading into his version of a smile, revealing white fangs as he sent her images of excitement. Ciara could only shake her head - of course the silly lizard was excited to sleep beside his larger brethren. Hopping in place a few times as he extended his wings, Hudz took to the skies.

“Can you warn your friends we are coming so they don’t burn us to a crisp?” Ciara grinned as the cold night air pulled at her clothes and hair. Hudz snorted, sending her his equivalent of ‘I am way ahead of you’. Allowing him his jab and trying not to focus too much on the feeling of dread and anxiety that seemed to be forming a knot in her stomach, the girl pressed closer to his neck, minimizing the resistance in the sky and mentaly running through her arguments in favor of staying. Mainly - she and the white were too tired to attempt a return journey alone and none of the Nordic warriors or their dragons could be spared to accompany them. Although the delegation was on the way to celebrate peace, the way her father talked about this diplomatic mission always made it seem that ‘peace’ was too complex to show weakness. It was less about peace than about balance and mutual survival.

The flight was certainly not long enough for Ciara to lose her nerve - or find it. As the small white dragon landed on the edge of the camp, causing a few of the dragons lying in the shadows to raise their heads, she focused on greeting the largest of the pack. As custom, among the dragons carrying riders, a few came to celebrate the peace - an elegant bronze female and a large red bull. Niaga, the ancient and powerful red with a temper rivaling that of a volcano, snorted white smoke as Hudz bowed down to his elders, waiting for them to allow him to come closer. Ciara slipped off the white, bowing as well as she made eye contact with the huge golden eyes. Steeling her nerves, she approached the red, placing a hand on his scales. Unlike her bonded dragon, she needed the physical touch to ease communication.

Greetings Seanair, Ciara shivered as the huge red dragon turned his head to sniff her. Even though she had always possessed a unique bond with Niaga, she knew that the old dragon would lose his respect for her the second she showed weakness or disrespect. And if he didn’t respect her, he would not hesitate to make it known - his claws were as long as her dagger and his teeth sharp as needles.

You are far from home, Niaga’s tone was emotionless, calculating. That is not where we left you.

No, Seanair, Ciara let out a deep breath, I did not want to remain at home. I wanted to see the South and experience it for myself. I am no longer a helpless hatching and we have made it this far alone.

I do not claim to understand your reasons, the red huffed out hot air before moving to curl up into a comfortable position. You have always amused me since we met. I will not stand in your way.

I thank you Seanair, bowing deeply, Ciara let out a sigh of relief before removing her fingers from the red scales. Hudz seemed to have been welcomed back - purring softly, he curled up with a few of his usual friends, rolling his shoulders like a cat as he settled in, lowering his head to the ground. Sensing his content, Ciara turned to look towards the campsite. The Nords have set up a bit away from the dragon flock, close enough to be near the flock in the case of an emergency but far enough that the bickering and roars of the beasts as they communicated among themselves did not stop the men from getting a good night’s sleep. Tents of dragon skin, much like the one Ciara had struggled with earlier, formed two semi-circles around a decent size fire where a few warriors sat. From the distance, it was hard to see what they were doing but Ciara was certain they were laughing over some poorly-worded joke or another. Men.

Taking one last moment, she started towards the camp, sensing the eyes of dragons on her back.

*****

“Father, please! I am more capable than you are giving me credit for!” Ciara crossed her arm over her chest, glaring at the large warrior before her. “Hudz and I made it all the way here alone and we are more than fine.”

“The fact that you came here at all is a disgrace Ciara - on all of us!” Einar shook his head, his eyes flaming with a variety of emotions. If Ciara could guess, he was angry that she disobeyed him, frightened that she did something rather reckless and perplexed about what to do with her now. As she predicted, the Nordic delegation was already too close to the Southern border to force her to return home. “I specifically told you to stay home and there were reasons behind it, political reasons. You are not a child and Eldres above can attest that I have not sheltered you from our problems. I had hoped I could count on you but this behavior is reckless!”

“You never explained to me why I could not come! It is not banned for me to go South and nowhere in our stories were women forced to stay home - never!”

“That right there is why I didn’t want you here - you are presuming that the world is just black and white but there are political delicacies that we need to uphold in order for the peace to hold. You are young - much younger than any of the men here - and impulsive,” sighing deeply, Einar turned away from his daughter, making his way to the small foldable table that hosted a simple tray ladenned with cold meats, cheese and mulled wine. Pouring himself a cup, the Nordic warrior rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps I can talk to Belenus, see if you can be a guest in one of the cities.”

“Guest or prisoner?” Ciara’s voice was quiet. “You said it yourself - I know of the troubles that we face at home and you never shielded me from it. I am your hier and you raised me to be a leader, a warrior. To be respected. How can I ask for their respect and for them to ever look upon me as anything but a child if I am not present with you?”

Einar didn’t say anything, sipping the wine silently. There was no reading of the emotions now - as quick as he was to show them with his family, the ruler of the Nords was not an open book and did not make decisions lightly in the heat of the moment. Even if he was pondering her fate now, the answer would not come for some time yet. Slamming the cup rather strongly against the wood, Einar looked at his daughter critically. “I hope you will not be fool enough to leave in the middle of the night.”

“Of course not,” Ciara tried not to show that his slight distrust irked her. “Hudz needs time to rest. As do I.”

“Then we shall speak of this in the morning,” the dismissal was clear in the man’s voice. For a second, Ciara wondered if there was something else that her father expected her to say but she was spent. The argument that inadvertently ensued as soon as she walked into camp, the shock of the Nords and Celts alike, the strength needed to remain strong as she pleaded her case - what more could she say? Turning with enough force that her loose braid smacked her in the mouth, Ciara left the huge tent, rubbing her burning lips.

She couldn’t remember much as her friends and comrades surrounded her, offering her food and wine, joking and laughing. Sitting before the great fire, Ciara smiled with just her lips as she drifted continuously into sleep. Soon, the warriors noticed, a few setting up a small private tent for her beside her father’s monstrosity, the eldest of her companions in no ambiguous means scolding her into bed. As soon as she touched the warm furs, Ciara passed out into a deep sleep.

*****

“Ciara, wake up. We’re moving out soon and Aksel is threatening to eat all the leftovers. Eldre Taranis barely has him under control,” the familiar voice of her friend Thorn and the faint smell of fresh cooked meat brought the young woman back into the world of the living. Groaning as the warrior tugged at her blanket, she swatted at him.

“Go away Thorn.”

“Your father also asked to see you - he has reached a decision.”

That simple sentence worked like a bucket of cold water, Ciara sitting up with large eyes and wide awake. Chuckling, the red-headed man straightened and nodded towards the tent opening. “Hurry up - I’ll wait for you outside.”

Scowling at his cheery attitude, Ciara quickly pulled on her boots, mentally checking in on her dragon. The rapid array of images, tinted in various shades of the rainbow, informed her that the white was content, gnawing away at a large bone that one of the older females brought him. Ensuring that she was presentable and braiding her hair back, Ciara trodded towards the group of three warriors standing on the edge of the camp deep in conversation. Around her, men of Nordic and Celtic heritage packed up tents and the few pieces of travel furniture, preparing packs to be strapped onto dragons. Most called out a greeting, a few adding encouraging words as she walked past them.

“Ah, Ciara,” Righ Einor was the first to notice her. “Seeing the state of your dragon this morning, I figured you both needed some extra time to recover.”

“Scrapes, scars and a minor tear in his left membrane,” Eldre Taranis recounted, leaning on his artistically carved walking stick. “Not to mention the matted fur, burs and hunger. I thought I taught you better.”

“All's well that ends well,” Konunger Belenus, the leader of the Celts, spoke up, amusement in his dark eyes. “The dragon seemed quite content and barely in pain.”

“He is still growing and with the exertion that he underwent with this journey,” the old man shook his head. Ciara felt her heart drop and blood drain from her cheeks.

“Eldre, you may have all the time in the world to scold Ciara about her choices as soon as we take wing,” Einar intervened before his counterpart could enter a debate with the eldest man present. Already, the Celt’s eyebrows were meeting in the middle and threatening to merge into one. “She can ride on Niaga for the morning and let her own beast go hunt.”

“Very well Einar,” Eldre Taranis sighed. “Come now Ciara, no time to waste.”

“Does that mean I can stay?” the words were out before she could stop them. The three men exchanged amused looks, Eldre Taranis patting Ciara’s arm as Belenus snorted and Einar rolled his eyes.

“Your best behavior now Ciara, do you understand? You will be Eldre Taranis’ responsibility and you will not cause him any grief. No more reckless decisions and no more broken rules. We cannot afford a war.”

*****

Ciara sighed impatiently as she paced under the tree, watching as her father and the rest of the ambassadors waited for the Cadalin’’s delegation to approach them upon tall horses with thin legs and curved necks. They were different, unusual almost and looked rather fragile to the young girl, used to the broad back of her feathery dragon or the sturdiness of the smaller mountain horses. In any case, she didn’t care much about the horses as she did about what the men would be talking about once the two parties met. It was unfair to say the least that her father would not let her attend the meeting, especially since the kingdom’s delegation was not even the noble family. It wasn’t her fault that women were not supposed to be at the Peace Treaty meetings - no one really mentioned that rule. And if they did, she had been rather prone to ignore it.

It had been tradition for years that the Peace Treaty was attended by male delegations from the two nations of the Northern Free lands, the Celts and Nords. Rather, Ciara frowned, the two different groups of Northerners since they were all under the Celt Leader’s rule. It was a complex system, wild and unstructured, as unexplainable as the Northerners themselves to the Caladanians, the young woman guessed. Although she grew up as the daughter of the Nords, she still did not know all the ins and outs of the history of her people. A shame, she would have guessed, for any daughter of a Clan Chief but she managed just fine without knowing the whole history of the world and why would she spend time with scrolls and elders when there were other things to do - like fly and get into trouble?

It was said that before Ciara’s time, maybe two Peace Treaties before, there were still Celt women who came to the meetings of two kingdoms, respected elders well into their two hundreds but now they remained in the cities, too fragile to travel the long distances required to meet the other side. With their decision, there were no new female ambassadors selected and slowly, it became the norm. Women were sacred among the Northerners with so few being born and many coming from Cadalin either through marriage in exchange for land or through the Peace Treaty. Peasants were exchanged freely enough but the Peace Treaty was one of the few times a noble girl was taken with no land given. A sacrifice, Ciara rolled her eyes silently, before dropping her hand and letting out a frustrated sigh.

From the other side of the tree came a purring like snore, a feather-tipped tail peeking from one side, belonging to her dragon Hudz’gar. He twitched slightly in his dream, the tail flicking like one belonging to a cat before being snaked out of view. At 13 years of age, the white beast was still just as childish as his mistress, too large now to be confined in the hatchery halls in the mountains and other birthplaces of dragons but too curious, impatient and playful to not cause mayhem among the clan he and Ciara called home. Bored, the girl walked around the tree, easily moving through the overgrown roots rising from the ground, her hand on the rough bark, until she stood on one side of the large white mass of feathers and fur, raising with each mighty breath and snoring as the air was released.

“Silly lizard,” Ciara grumbled, her toe gently pushing against the white hide exposed to her. A single ear twitched towards her and she could see Hudz half open a blue eye, taking her in for a second before closing it again and his mouth stretching into a dragon-grin. Nonetheless, the dragon continued to pretend to sleep, knowing how annoyed his owner would be. Indeed, Ciara huffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Would you stop pretending you are a well-behaved creature?! You are not fooling anyone!”

A sneeze in response was all she received as Hudz rolled his shoulder before opening an eye and glancing up. Following his gaze, Ciara grinned, shaking her head. “You sly lizard,” she responded, coming closer to her flying friend and scaling up onto his back. Standing a bit over 5’4, Ciara was rather underweight for her age, a sad side effect of the recent events in the northern mountains that she called home. The dragon barely felt his rider on him, innocently returning to his game of play-pretend sleep as the girl straightened up and reached for the large branch overhead, her fingers barely grasping the rough bark. Almost accidently, Hudz turned, momentarily giving Ciara a boost to grab hold. Pulling herself up, she straddled the thick branch as she would her dragon, taking a second to breathe before starting to inch towards the end reaching out towards the small field where the delegation was currently stationed.

From her new vantage point, the scene that was opening up was much more clear. The group of twenty or so adults was dispersed, six in the middle and from what she could see, the Northerner group included her father, leader of the Nords, Einar the Just and the leader of the Celts Lord Belenus, his brother in law. Beside them stood the eldest of the Northerners that had made the journey that year, half deaf at his 327 years of age, leaning against a wooden staff carved with various symbols, Eldre Taranis. The other three, dressed in a foreign way she never saw before,, must have been the leaders of the Cadalin delegation. The rest of the men stood behind their representatives, some tense, some relaxed. Two guards - or at the very least Ciara assumed they were guards - held the long-legged horses at the far side of the field, far away from the few dragons who lay close to the trees, marked in scars and observing calmly the exchanges of words.

In truth, the Cadalins were doing most of the talking. Belenus looked slightly bored, nodding every now and then when the Southerners added a bow but even from so far away, Ciara could see that he was anything but engaged in the conversation. Her father Einar stood to the right, his relative’s right hand man and Guardian of the northern borders, his broad shouldered form impressive and his expression stone-like. She couldn’t see his face but she could picture his face quite easily with the blonde beard and the small braid, his hair cropped short and the old scar running across his nose. Eldre Taranis was nearly snoozing in his seat by the left side of the Celt Leader, his head bobbing slightly and his hands gripping his staff. Ciara wished she could be there, assisting him as she had all the way here once she was discovered, however when she tried to argue her case earlier today, she got a very direct no-negotiation “no” with even her old patron patting her on the head with a shake of his head.

“You do know that you were a much more behaved child? Some would say even ‘lady-like’ in some respects,” an amused male voice called, catching her off guard so that Ciara nearly lost her grip. Looking down, she growled to herself as she saw Lorens smirking. Noticing her gaze, he let his eyes wander the frame of her body, for a second becoming more predator-like. “You have certainly….grown up..”

“Uekte,” Ciara snapped, blushing with anger. Lorens would be the one to tease her on such a subject and yet pay her no attention in the end. It’s for the best, her inner self reasoned as she dismounted from her vantage point, landing with cat-like grace on one knee, eyes boring holes in her father’s illegitimate son. “You weren’t left behind and unable to see all the fun up close.”

“Oh, now comes the swearing. I’m hurt by the words,” Lorens feinted mock pain with a hand on his heart before his sharp eyes dug into Ciara’s. Heart racing slightly, she held it, her chin raised in defiance.

“I only spoke the truth,” she responded, her voice sharp as her lips formed a thin line. “You are a bastard - even you admit it all the time.”

“There’s no changing what I am,” Lorens agreed with a shrug. “The meeting is awfully boring and even though I was invited, it would have been a waste of my time. Besides, father asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Of course not,” Lorens agreed with a smirk, coming closer until he backed the girl into the tree. “Like you didn’t need one that night in Mor Cthokbur…” The rest of the sentence died, cut off by the ring of a hard slap, the girl looking up at the six foot two warrior, his cheek blazing with a mark. Spitting away some blood, Lorens slowly turned to look at her. “If there weren’t girls who acted like ladies to be had in this town, I would assume you were interested in me.”

“Interested in making sure you never speak of it again,” Ciara hissed, her eyes wild and stinging as she fought back tears. “I already thanked you enough times for saving me.” His face serious, Lorens shook his head.

“You can hate me all you want for seeing you at your weakest,” he drawled, his sharp features highlighted by the bright mark she had left. “You can hate me for knowing that you will always owe me, you can hate me for being the one to hunt those jaevels down as the Chief’s ordered,” his smile was a predator’s grin, eyes sparkling darkly. “But what will happen when your father or even Lord Belenus decide to marry you off? Who will you blame then when your suitor approaches you on your wedding night and does exactly that which I stopped?”

“I won’t ever get married,” Ciara couldn’t hold his gaze, looking angrily down at the ground. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Lorens looked away, his voice more rough than the velvety tone he had for the rest of the conversation. “I saw you grow up, Ciara. I know father wants to protect you and to let you have your head but you are nearly twenty. You are not of our blood - you will not be youthful for another fifty years like our women.”

“I have Hudz and father said that slows down my age,” Ciara snapped, looking up at him. “You just want me for yourself but know that will never happen. You will always meekly follow father’s orders and be a faithful hound.”

“You are a child Ciara Quicksilver,” pale eyes growing vigorously sharp. “Remember to stay out of trouble while we’re here.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t have a good time,” Ciara responded, her heart racing again at the intensity. Pushing past him, she headed away from the tree and the field where the delegation was, her stride purposeful and yet her body was rigid. He let her go, watching her with a shake of his head before giving a soft, low whistle. From the shadows, a tall black hound seemingly appeared, a rare sight this far south, a Gytrash. From the looks, the animal was some sort of cross breed between a hunting dog and a wolf with powerful feet and a long tail. His head was medium size with ears erect, the tips slightly droopy. Blue eyes blazed like fire without pupils and the form overall was surrounded by a mist of sorts.

“Cinniuint,” Lorens lowered his hand for the hound creature to come closer, petting her head. An honorary gift, she had bonded with him during his stay in the Islands of the North. The lands there held Gytrash as pets and companions, highly prized for their loyalty and dedication not to mention the sensitivity and their attunement to their owners. His own female was rather small, a runt, but served him faithfully. Panting silently, she stood by his side like a statue. “Keep an eye on her. I need to calm down.”