It had been deduced, with no surprise, that Yina’s scrying of Connor had been caught by the Calvarians. In turn they were able to scry on the ship and send their warriors. There had to have been some sort of arcane portal in place for that many to just keep assailing the ship. However they found no sign of it.

Caedmon rested in his bunk. Both Stella and Yina used their magic each day to bring him back to full health. Karolus checked on him regularly. Those left rotated guard watches. All were cautious in case their attackers returned. 

The sailing was slower with a lessened crew but everyone pulled their weight. Caedmon once up on his feet was a fine teacher. Yina had cremated the bodies of both crew and Narate and with a prayer from Stella the ashes were cast to the sea. A fitting send off for all the fallen. 

Tarik cared not for the traditions and ceremonies of the others, his mind was focused ahead. The attack had surprised him. He had told Karolus that he had thought they had some limited protection, it turns out not so much. 

From their current point they would be approaching the island city of Calvaria at its south western coast. Tarik shared that the port would be that of Scale Wave. The city districts were literal villages and towns amalgamated into the vastness of the island. 

Karolus and Yina spent hours talking about what she had seen when scrying on Connor and he had described his own vision. 

More and more he noticed that Yina would flow between her youthful self and the memories of age in her speech. But the sense of humour was consistent. It was wholesome seeing her rediscover herself.

Between Yina’s scrying and input from Tarik the short version of Connors future was described as being prepped to enter a ritual to bind his spirit to dragon blood therefore becoming a vessel for a Vendari.

Tarik told them of the Vendari, non dragonkin that allowed those from the realm of Uldryd to walk Colossus. Incredibly powerful and to his knowledge few in number. Connor would be well looked after, but after the ritual, forever changed.

Where he could, Tarik would share snippets as if reading from a play script. Calvaria is a volcanic island, surrounded by treacherous waters and hidden by perpetual mists that shroud the city in an air of mystery. The island itself is a mix of jagged cliffs, verdant valleys, and hidden caverns, all dominated by the imposing presence of the sprawling city.

When he spoke Karolus could hear there was no love lost for the place, Tarik hated the place, for reasons he would not share.

“Caedmon and Tarik reckon we be there tomorrow. How yer holding up lad?” Stella brought him some of the bread and cheese of the evening meal. The tankard of ale was hers.

“We are so far away and still I can see the outline of the island, and the rainbow aurora is as if the creation of all magic and life sits high above looking down.” Karolus had been blown away by the phenomenon they approached. 

Yina would make cooing noises and stare for hours. It seemed only her and Karolus were in awe of their approach.

“Yer don’t be getting distracted by those pretty colours. Calvarias’ a habit of claiming the hearts of those not strong enough to tell its riches to back off." The half cleric had a permanent look of distrust on her face, mostly since the Narate attack. 

“How’d you mean?” he asked, still staring. 

“Magic lad, only one other city rivals Calvaria when it comes to the arcane.” Stella’s gaze went from the sparkling colours in the distance to the silvery stars above. 

“Is the dramatic pause for my benefit?” Karolus asked with a soft laugh. 

“The Bastions of Storms. They be a beautiful sight if yer get the chance lad.” she spoke with awe in her tone.

“I’ve never heard of them, sorry.”

“This time of year I would say far in the west. The bastions were built on a mountain in the sky. Magic moves it about,  The Stormwalker lot live up there.” Stella spoke as one with memory of the place.

“How…?” he started.

“Like I said, rivals, at least magically. We survive this i’ll take thee and Connor.” Stella smiled.

“Deal.”

Karolus let the thoughts of the coming day roll through his mind, he was judging their readiness, along with what his friends brought to the table.

Stella a Cleric of the great bear, Naomh of Dair, a protector through and through. He knew when it came to it she would exhaust herself of magic before giving up on Connor. Karolus had heard her speaking with Yina about her children and grandchildren. No other Toan Highlander had his respect and gratitude like Stella. 

Yina was a power he couldn’t work out, dying to be born again. The Drydakka were the ancients of Toa, she was Naomh Iodhadh. Her Yew staff never left her side. Did a phoenix really sit on her shoulder balancing life and death, time would tell.

The druid halfling had told him of the druidism that ran in his veins, the silver light of the moon that gleamed behind the sea green eyes. The water spirits chose him, the moon blessed him and the beasts of the Drydakka Forests filled his heart. 

Yina spoke with such conviction on these points that Karolus felt the need to shape into a wolf there and then, but didn’t manage more than a growl and sharpened fingernails.

Quite the tale had been spun already, he was a rare moon druid and his brother the chosen of dragons. How the campfires would shout with joy at this tale.

Karolus hadn’t noticed Tarik swap places with Stella, but he was getting used to it these days. The Nabbatan had skills in remaining unseen and quiet beyond that of a mortal, or so it felt.

“Not long now.” Karolus said. 

“Indeed.” Tarik stared forwards, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Will they not just kill us as soon as our feet touch the dock?” Karolus asked with no fear. 

“They would need permission to kill me from the House of the Rook. The halflings will likely be left alone if they are quiet.”

“And me?” Karolus now looked at Tarik instead of the sky.

“They will do whatever is necessary to stop you interfering with their plans for your brother. Death is a fairly strong deterrent for such things.”

“Remind me to get you to write poetry when all this is done. Folks will love it.” Karolus let a smile cover his entire face.

Tarik shifted his stance not enjoying the joke at his expense. 

“You think Caedmon will come along?” Karolus was keen on the sea giant but didn’t feel any longevity between them.

“The Neroliath will serve himself. But he will feel guilty about it for a short time.”

Karolus looked sideways at him. 

“You have a place in his heart, but only a small one. His desires and yours are not aligned.” Tarik found himself having a softer tone when he spoke to Karolus about such things. 

“You’re probably right. Well one more day of it and he can do what he needs to and we will do what we need to.” he patted Tarik on the back, who returned it with an awkward glance. Karolus burst into laughter. 

Midnight stars were plentiful and a fair few were different colours. The arcane lights glittering from Calvaria miles ahead of them reached far indeed. It was so wondrous that Karolus just allowed it to be fact. He didn’t care about the how, just that it was. 

Caedmon came seeking him out. His wounds all but healed, and his charm in full flow. The invitation of one last evening alone together. Karolus had thought about saying yes, letting go before diving into the belly of the beast. But declined. His mind didn’t need to be clouded. 

Back in Horndean was a moment he had been unprepared for. Caedmon is handsome, tall and powerful. A way with words that pulled at him and made him feel good. His heart beat for Glencora, they shared similar traits as the Neroliath.

He would see them again, he swore it multiple times.  

Karolus could see Caedmon feign disappointment with a sparkle in his eye. He couldn’t tell if it was authentic. The captain returned to the wheel of the ship and avoided the highlander other than to offer a alluring smile and playful wink. 

As they closed the gap between themselves and Calvaria, Karolus held the small wooden trinket Yina had given him.

“We’re coming for you brother.”

With the first light of dawn, Karolus had woken with a nervous fearful excitement twisting his stomach into knots. Soon they would be in Calvaria. Fighting for Connor. He took deep breaths and thought of his lessons with Galwyn, with Tarik, with Glen. Now Yina was to guide him along his druidic path. Another breath was taken.

Out on the deck Yina and Tarik were already there. Stella was just making her way. The crew were doing what they needed to. Caedmon was pulling ropes and long wooden arms the sails were tied to. 

Staring ahead nearly overwhelmed him. The island of Calvaria was gargantuan. The mass of buildings were endless built all across its mountains, forests. Long rivers ran down the hills, huge waterfalls could be seen even at this distance. At least two volcanoes rose at the island's centre; they too hosted massive villas and palaces. 

The architecture of Calvaria revealed itself the closer they got. A harmonious blend of natural elements and masterful craftsmanship. Massive stone structures adorned with intricate carvings intertwined with the natural caves and cliffs of the island. 

Towers shaped like dragon claws reach towards the aurora above, while bridges made of magically infused gemstones connected various parts of the city.

Atop a high hill was a construct of such wonder that it would leave a mark upon his soul for the rest of his days. A colossal statue had been built in the likeness of the dragons of old. It stood on four powerful legs, chest out. Feather like wings half extended. 

The head carried a squared jaw line with bright hungry eyes and rows of sharp teeth. It was made from a single blue stone that Tarik told him was Kyanite. How could such a thing exist?

Karolus strained like a child looking over adult shoulders, reaching to see more wonders of the ancient city. There was nothing akin to this in Toa, it was breathtaking. For a brief second it came close to overwhelming him. The size of the island city gave a grandness to their task at hand.

Anything from small fishing boats to the three mast galleys sat at the dock. Flags with symbols of animals, weapons, and creative patterns could be seen flying from the ships. 

All manner of race wandered the docks, merchants, soldiers of both local and foreign. Workers ignored them, moving the heavy loads on and off ships.

Samos were everywhere, tall, broad and powerfully built. They dominated the number of workers. A few of the leaner Tharros were present using their magics to help. Karolus could see Gila lizards, ownerless, like the hounds of Toa. They were fed and petted by many, shooed by others. 

It was only now as the ship of Caedmon was signalled that he saw the Calvarians had hair, or at least styles of gem stone clustered atop their heads. Most wore sleeveless tunics that went to the knees, then a rope belt was tied. 

Their scales shimmering in the heat and light of the sun mixed with the aurora. Those not of Calvaria wore similar clothing but somehow it looked normal on them to the highlander. 

The noise was chaotic and clear all at the same time. Karolus followed the turning of the ship into the dock so he could see as much of the town as possible. Instructional shouts were given and the ship was expertly docked. 

Apparently papers were needed, an old gecko looking dock worker held rolls of parchment and a glass lens to read with. 

Caedmon spoke with them in a friendly manner, as if they were friends since childhood. In return a wooden tooth was given to the Neroliath.

“It seems the captain has made sure we are arriving discreetly.” Tarik was waiting near the gang plank down to the dock.

“I thought they wanted us dead, why would he take a bribe.” Karolus adjusted his clothing as the heat had already soaked him through with sweat.

“The rule of silver.”

“Humour me.”

“Coin bends rules. Remember that. Especially here.” Tarik looked ahead, scanning the taverns, taking in a read of who was about.

They disembarked, led by Tarik. The wooden planks thudded loudly beneath them. It was incredibly busy, barrels and crates moved in all directions, sacks and rolls of fabrics and materials sat on the shoulders of crew and dock workers.

Stella walked in straight lines, the halfling cleric was donned in her half plate and chain, kilt of black and brown and her shield upon her back. The hammer sat at the hip swaying with ehr walk. Her presence was duly noted.

Yina had shifted into a squirrel and sat upon Karolus' shoulder who was weaving his way though trying to follow Tarik, who touched no one, and seemed unhindered by the hustle and bustle.

Folks didn’t give them much attention. There was work to be done and it didn’t involve newly arrived halflings and highlanders.

Karolus started to notice more and more that minor magics, cantrips, were being used all about them. Gusts of air, invisible arcane hands, the subtle mendings of cracked containers. All were being used to give the workers aid.

Without warning Tarik put his arm across Karolus' shoulders and turned him sharply left. It was as if Tarik was suddenly inebriated, staggering drunkenly towards a tavern with a scaled horse image above its door. 

“What are we doing?” Karolus asked quietly, Yina tucking into his hair.

“Staying alive.” Tarik whispered then burped loudly before laughing hysterically. 

Through the doors, the scent of the room hit like a hammer. It was the usual tavern stench of sweat and hay soaked ale. The clientele was similar to what he had expected but they were well behaved and enjoying their drinks. 

Tarik motioned to a table and went and fetched drinks for the pair. 

“The Magistratus are the district guards. Each town, village and port has them.” Tarik was now very much his relaxed self, back to a wall and looking towards the entrance where Stella and Yina had entered looking confused. 

“It's unlikely they know you by face but I would bet coin they have been told to look out for travelling highlanders. We should ditch your clothing and your tartan.” he gestured as Stella took a seat at their table.

“I’ll die before I do.” she said defiantly.

“Yes, you will.” Tarik held her gaze, with his emotionless one. 

“Fine, I'll stick it in ma pack. But i aint walking around with nothing on me nethers, chainmail a bastard if it catches.” Stella stated as if reciting a memory. 

“More detail than was needed but I can arrange clothing for you all.” Tarik raised an eyebrow.

“Where is Caedmon?” asked Karolus.

“He is arranging to buy goods to take back to Toa.” smiled Yina.

Karolus nodded, slowly wiping the froth from his lips.

“I will arrange for lodgings here for the night. I am to avoid the House of the Rook whilst we go about our business. But I have a friend who can pass information back and forth.” Tarik stood smoothly.

All three of them stared at him in quiet disbelief.

“What?” Tarik asked.

“You have a friend?” Stella’s face did not portray one that believed the statement.

“Would you prefer I said acquaintance?” 

“Look it's just an observation, but you give off a “don’t want friends” sort of aura yer know.” the cleric shrugged her shoulders.

Tarik shook his head and left the trio at the table.

Stella had some coins and bought them food and drink. The three of them had enjoyed the meals on their trip but there was something homely about eating food in a tavern. Despite it being surrounded by their enemy.

“I feel like everyone is watching us. I thought Caedmon had paid the dockmaster.” Karolus couldn’t help trying to read everyone's intentions in the establishment. Every scaled being and every non scaled being for that matter. 

“Only ones looking at yer will be those that give a damn. Caedmon's silver will give us a bit of breathing room.” Stella had taken Tariks place when he left so she could now see the entrance. 

“Besides you don’t wear tartan, and these lot likely think you aint Toan if you aint in tartan. So chin up.” she winked and patted her thigh signifying the black and brown tartan of her kilt.

“Wheres yours Yina?” he asked noticing that he couldn’t remember if she had ever been in tartan or taken it off recently. He had a vague recollection that she wore the same tas Stella when they travelled together before.

“I’m clanless for now, but when I’m ready i'll take the tartan again.” she summoned a thick and juicy looking apple.

They were here, in Calvaria. Connor was somewhere on the island. All they had to do now was find out where, kill those keeping him, get off the island and not die in the process. Easy thought Karolus who now had a nervous smirk on his face. 

What he was avoiding thinking about was whether or not they were too late and the fate of his younger brother was not in his hands but draconic sorcerers with a deluded ambition to bring their gods into the world. 

Seemed a grand campfire story.