From a Forest of Bone and Blood | Chapter Eleven
When the island of Seagrave first appeared on the horizon, Jensen mistook it for one of the small uninhabited islands scattered between Azimuth and Seagrave known collectively as The Pebbles. It was the captain who pointed out that the small, mountainous island on the horizon was indeed their destination, and soon enough afterwards they made port and bid goodbye to Jeffrey. He let them know that he was heading out in three days again; heading back to Mainsail and that if they needed passage back they were more than welcome to come along.
“We probably won’t even be attacked by sea dragons next time,” Jeffrey joked, earning a laugh from his passengers. They thanked him and headed on their way to find Misha. Jeffrey had heard of the inventor but didn’t know where he lived.
As luck would have it, Misha Collins was well known on the island of Seagrave and lived about five miles inland. Despite being a known eccentric the residents spoke fondly of him and showed them one of his most popular inventions - a two wheeled, manually powered vehicle they called a bicycle. They were everywhere, Jensen noticed. They looked like fun. Genevieve said that she wanted one for herself once their quest was over, and Jensen rather agreed with her.
Alona found a small business that rented bicycles by the day, but sadly none of them were proficient at riding them. The proprietor had gotten a good laugh watching them try to ride the bicycles, especially at Jared with his long legs. Alona seemed to take it as a personal affront, and Genevieve was the most coordinated out of all of them. Jensen somehow ended up on the ground with the bicycle on top of him and the proprietor chuckling good-naturedly while at the same time telling him that if Jensen broke it he’d have to buy it.
In the end they decided just to walk the five miles to Misha’s place, since apparently he lived and worked at the same location. They thanked the bicycle shop owner for his time and headed off.
It was a little past noon when they reached the property belonging to Misha Collins. Set back from the road a ways was a cozy looking house with a few outbuildings here and there. Behind the house was a larger building that looked like a barn but was probably his workshop; there was smoke rising from the chimney despite the warmth of the day.
“Is this it?” Jared asked. Jensen unfolded the small piece of paper that one of the townspeople had kindly written down the address on.
“Looks like it,” Jensen replied. “Looks like he’s home too. Let’s get this over with.”
“I hope he’ll make the map for us,” Alona said. “I know the Oracle said he could, but she didn’t say he would. I have a few coins left from our tips in Southport but they’re probably not enough to pay for a map.”
Genevieve bit her lip and looked worried, but didn’t respond. Together they walked up the pathway to the house, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was Jared who knocked. He knocked on the door exactly three times. They all waited, but no answer was forthcoming. Jared knocked again.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Genevieve asked. Jensen frowned at her and showed her the piece of paper with the address on it.
“I don’t know, Genevieve,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “Did I read it correctly?” Genevieve looked hurt and Jensen felt a pang of guilt, but before he could apologize a voice could be heard behind the door, slightly muffled as if buried in books or boxes.
“Hold on! I’m coming!” After a few moments the door was opened and they were looked at appraisingly by a man with dark eyes and darker hair. “Who the depths are you?”
“Hi, are you Misha Collins?” Jensen started but the man held up a hand for silence, and Jensen stuttered to a stop.
“Hold on, I’m not Misha. I’m Osric, his assistant. Misha is in the workshop. Do you need something from him?”
“Ah, well, yes,” Jared tried and the man looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.
“What do you need? Do you have an appointment?”
“We need a map,” said Alona, sounding more confident than Jared had. “We were told he could make one for us.”
Osric scoffed. “Misha’s not a mapmaker. He’s an inventor - and a brilliant one at that. What do you really want?”
“No, really, we were told by the Oracle that he could make a map for us,” Jensen answered.
“Oracle? You expect me to believe that?”
From behind Osric another man appeared, this one taller and dressed in casual clothing with a sort of apron around his waist that had at least ten pockets on it, all of them filled with tools or metal bits and who knew what else. He held a screwdriver in one hand. His dark hair was mussed, as if it hadn’t been brushed yet for the day, but he had a pleasant face especially when he smiled at his visitors.
“Hello there! Did I forget an appointment? I’m sorry, Osric likes to give my guests a hard time since they’re usually trying to get something for nothing - you know how it goes. Osric, go make tea or something. Hi, I’m Misha Collins and that’s my assistant, Osric. He can get feisty sometimes, but it makes things around here a bit more interesting. Also he makes sure I don’t burn anything down. What can I do for you?”
After Misha rattled off that little speech, and Osric rolled his eyes and disappeared into another room with a long-suffering sigh, Jensen and the others shook Misha’s hand and introduced themselves.
“Sorry we don’t have an appointment,” Jensen said apologetically. “We didn’t know we had to make one. We just arrived here from Mainsail and we’re on a quest.”
Jared’s eyes widened just a little at this divulgence of information but he didn’t say anything.
“No appointment?” Misha asked. “Well that’s alright. I don’t think I have any appointments today anyway. In fact, you all just arrived in time for lunch. I’m having sandwiches and you’re welcome to join me. A quest you say? I didn’t know people went on quests anymore. I thought that was part of a bygone age. You know, knights and castles and fantasy books.” Misha’s eyes went distant. “There’s less and less magic users since Veridia met its sad fate. Even the dragons are nearing extinction. It’s going to be a sad, boring world to live in soon.”
Jensen bit his lower lip, unsure of what to say. Alona purposefully caught Jensen’s gaze and held it, lifting her eyebrows as if silently asking if he thought Misha was as crazy as she thought he was. Jensen responded with a small, nearly imperceptible shrug. It was Jared who piped up.
“Sandwiches sound great and we’d love to join you. We can tell you all about our quest and maybe you can help us.”
Misha rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Follow me then, we have sandwiches to conquer.”
***
“So, here’s the thing, Osric will kill me if I do this for you without payment. Do you have anything that you could trade?” Misha sat at his kitchen table, his eyes downcast as he scooted bread crumbs around with his thumb. The words were rather jumbled together and hard to understand since they were said around his last bite of food.
“For an assistant,” Alona said, “he seems awfully presumptuous.”
“Well, you know what the first three letters of assistant spell, right?” Misha replied, lifting his head and smirking.
“Hey I heard that!” Osric called from the next room. Peeking around the doorframe, Osric glared at Misha while he used one hand to push his hair out of his eyes. “You think you’re funny, Misha. You’re not that funny.” He smiled. “Keep it up and I’ll put a nice surprise for you in your tea next time.”
Misha blinked. “Osric, you do not mess with a man’s tea. I will have you dismissed.”
“You always say that,” Osric laughed before disappearing. His voice trailed behind him. “You need me though!”
Misha laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth and checking for stray breadcrumbs. “He’s right, I threaten to fire him at least twice a day. But enough about Osric. You need a map. Come with me to my workshop; I have just the thing. I’m sure we can come up with some form of trade. I noticed that you, Jensen, are carrying around an instrument. Do you sing?”
“Passably,” Jensen shrugged. “We managed to live off our tips in Southport, so I won’t make your ears bleed.”
“Shut up Jensen,” Jared said. “He’s actually a great singer. He’s probably the only reason we earned any coin in Southport. Well, that and the girls dancing.”
Alona turned a glare on Jared. “So it was us shaking our asses that got the money, right, and not our singing? Who did backup vocals? Wasn’t just you, Jared.”
Jared made a moue with his mouth and looked down at the table, abashed. Misha’s gaze darted back and forth between Alona and Jared, and the look on his face showed that he expected a fight to break out at any moment.
“Guys, calm down,” Genevieve said, laying a hand on Alona’s. “It’s alright. I’m sure we did get tips for both reasons. Alona is very pretty.”
Amazingly, Alona blushed and looked away. Jensen smiled.
“Alright, it’s been established that you play,” Misha said. “That’s perfect, actually. You can play for me, and that will be your payment.”
Osric’s face appeared in the door again. “You’re exchanging services for a song? Are you crazy, old man?”
“I’m not old!” Misha exclaimed in dismay. “And no, it’s not just a song. You are not as smart as you think you are, young man. I want to make a recording of them and you’ve proven time and again that you can’t sing. I’m surprised you didn’t break my wax cylinders with as much of a strain as you put on them. I want to record something pleasant for when I present my newest invention.”
Jensen watched the exchange between the two men, confused as to what it was that Misha wanted exactly, but whatever it was, Misha must have won because Osric waved a hand and walked away.
“Is he always that cranky?” Genevieve asked. Misha shook his head.
“No, he’s just mad at me right now because I built a custom bicycle for his mother and didn’t give her the discount she wanted for Osric being my assistant.” Misha raised his voice, practically shouting his words as if to make sure Osric heard him clearly. “I should have charged her more for Osric being my assistant, especially with the attitude he has today!” Misha’s volume descended back to its usual level. “Come on, then. Let’s get going. I imagine you’ll want to be back in town by the time the sun goes down.”
“Yes,” said Jared, although truthfully they hadn’t thought that far ahead. They probably should have procured lodging before heading out to Misha’s. Jensen hoped they’d be able to find a room - the town was pretty small and with Jeffrey and his crew in port finding available rooms could prove difficult. Jensen shrugged it off. It was too late to worry about now. Worst case scenario, he figured, they could find a place outdoors to catch some sleep.
Wouldn’t be the first time, a voice in his head said and he realized that at least for one of them, that was true. It was definitely a memory, though whether it belonged to dragon, dryad, soldier or wizard he couldn’t be sure. The memory of cold, hard paving stones under him as he wrapped up in his coat and used the side of a brick building as a pillow was clear, regardless of the original source.
They followed Misha out of his house and toward his workshop, which was indeed the building with the smoking chimney. As they walked, it wasn’t the workshop that arrested Jensen’s attention.
It was held aloft by wooden scaffolding, and shaped very much like a smaller version of Jeffrey’s merchant ship minus the sails. The body was a creation of metal and wood, elegantly crafted and gleaming in the sunlight. The most curious thing that caught Jensen’s eye was the set of giant metal wings attached to the sides of the craft. These bat-like wings stretched out at least fifteen feet from the craft, if not further.
Entranced, Jensen started wandering toward the ship. As he walked closer he could see that only the bones of the wings were made of metal. Stretched between the metal bones was a patchwork of leather; nearly transparent despite the thickness , it was beautiful and almost looked like stained glass.
“What in the depths is that thing?” Jensen breathed, almost afraid of the answer. He took another step toward it.
“That, my friend, is my magnum opus - my great flying machine,” Misha said, suddenly directly behind Jensen. “Isn’t it a thing of beauty?”
“It’s something alright,” said Jared, squinting at it. “It’ll never get off the ground. It’s too heavy. Even if you rolled it over a cliff, it’d just fly straight down.”
Alona snickered and tried to hide it as a sneeze. No one was fooled and Misha shot her a small frown.
“Sacrilege!” Misha shouted, jogging over to the flying machine and petting the wing fondly. “This thing is only missing one final, magical ingredient to get her to fly.”
“What are these wings made of?” Genevieve asked. She looked pensive as she trailed her finger over a seam in the leather. “No animal I know of has skin like this.”
“This is dragon-wing leather,” Misha said. “You wouldn’t believe how expensive it was.”
Dragon wings. Dragon. Wings. Jensen couldn’t breathe. One of them was a dragon. He could very well be a dragon. Anger coursed through his veins and he wondered if this came from the dragons the wizard had stalked and killed.
Then again, I might be that wizard. I might have killed these dragons.
Jensen felt dizzy. Genevieve had snatched her hand away from the leather as if it had burned her and was now cradling her hand. Alona looked like she was going to be sick and Jared - well, Jared looked like his blood was about to boil.
“Dragon Wing Leather?” Jared repeated the words, each one dripping with venom. “I’m going to burn it. This is an obscenity.” Jensen was watching Jared’s face now, and when Jared breathed out Jensen was almost sure he saw a little puff of smoke. He immediately thought back to that night in Oracle Grove, when Jared had wondered if he could breathe fire.
Looks like we might find out, Jensen thought.
“Wait, wait!” Misha exclaimed, taking in the murderous expression on Jared’s face as well as the looks the others were giving him. “This leather is all naturally harvested. I didn’t kill any dragons! I promise!”
“What does that mean?” Jensen snapped, surprised at the anger in his own voice.
“Dragons die sometimes,” Misha said defiantly. “They’re like elephants - they have graveyards. This leather was all harvested from dragons that died of old age.”
“I still don’t like it,” Jared said. “Those graveyards are sacred to the dragons. If they knew humans were traipsing in - if they knew humans even knew where they were - they’d-“
“Jared,” Jensen said firmly, stopping Jared before he gave away too much information. The muscles next to Jared’s mouth twitched angrily, but he silenced himself. Misha looked confused.
“Do you study dragons?” he asked. “You seem very, ah, passionate about the subject.”
“I’ll show you passionate,” Jared muttered, which despite the tension in the air brought completely inappropriate images to Jensen ‘s mind. That Jared was a passionate man Jensen had no doubt. Their intimacy on the ship had confirmed that. Sadly, that hadn’t happened again. Jensen felt the tips of his ears heat up and he knew he was blushing. Just at that moment Jared turned to look at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a self-satisfied smirk.
Jared winked at Jensen, which only caused his flush to deepen. Jensen cleared his throat. “No,” he said to Misha. “Jared’s kind of a dragon enthusiast. Nothing official, but you know how some people are.”
“Yes, quite,” said Misha. “Well, come on, you have a map you need and a song to perform for me.” With that Misha began leading them back to his workshop. Jensen cast one more glance over his shoulder at the flying machine, wondering what the missing ingredient was. Jared walked merely a step behind Jensen, close enough so that when Jared leaned forward he could feel Jared’s warm breath on his neck.
“How are some people, Jensen?” Jared asked, his voice low enough to vibrate Jensen’s bones. “Will you show me later?”
Jensen shivered as even more erotic thoughts pressed into his mind.
“Would you behave?” he whispered over his shoulder as they entered the workshop.
It was very hot inside from the stove that sat in the corner. On top of the stove were three metal tea kettles, each one with a steady issue of steam coming from their spouts.
“Alright, so you need a map, but first I need you to sing.” They watched as Misha set up a strange looking device with a grooved wax cylinder. “Okay, are you ready?”
Jensen quickly and awkwardly pulled the lute off of his back and turned to his friends. “Which one do you want to do?”
“How about Everlasting Rose of Mainsail?” Genevieve suggested. Jensen wrinkled his nose.
“That’s such a sad song,” said Jensen. “Can’t we sing something, I don’t know, happier?”
“Yeah,” said Jared. “Let’s do Southport Jig.”
“Seconding that,” Alona said. Genevieve sighed. “But Misha said he was going to record us - on that wax cylinder, right? Shouldn’t we do something a little classier than the Southport Jig?”
“I like Southport Jig,” Misha said. “But yes, Genevieve is correct. This device records you and I can play it back. I think it’s going to be a rather big deal, and it works by hand crank, no alternative source of power required.”
“Huh,” said Jared, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Jensen thought that Jared would make a better assistant for Misha than Osric. Jared seemed to have an innate curiosity for how things worked. Jensen could almost see Jared’s fingers itching to touch the device.
“Alright, ready?” Misha asked. Jensen nodded, and then counted to three, starting the up-tempo melody. Jared started clapping in time to the music and all four started to sing. A grin broke across Misha’s face and before too long he was clapping along and stomping his feet. When they finished he applauded wildly before stopping the device.
“Now, let me show you how this works,” Misha said, resetting the machine and winding the crank back to maximum. To Jensen’s astonishment, he could hear his own voice and instrument playing back at him.
“Amazing!” Alona said, staring at the invention with wide eyes.
“Yes, if I do say so myself,” Misha said proudly. “Now then, I owe you fine travelers a map. What do you need a map of? Mainsail? The Mainland?”
“Ah, actually, we need a mad to guide us to the Pool of Restoration,” Jensen said. “Can you make a map for that?”
“Certainly, if it does in fact exist,” Misha said. “Come over here to my table and grab me a sheet of parchment from that box.”
Jensen did as he was told and Misha took the parchment from him, smoothing it out over the table before taking out a worn cardboard box from under said table. He place the box on the parchment and opened it, removing what appeared to be a fist-sized brown glass egg with some sort of lens set into the bottom.
“Alright, one of you needs to hold this and picture clearly in your head what you need to find. Then, when you’ve done that the egg will make your map for you. “
“Which of us has the clearest mind, do you think?” Jared asked. “It’s not me.”
“Me either,” said Alona. “Jensen?”
“Oh, I doubt it. Let’s have Genevieve do it.”
“Me?” Genevieve squeaked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Jared said, and Misha set the egg in Genevieve’s cupped hands. Her brow furrowed a little as she looked at it, but she closed her eyes and started concentrating on what it was they needed to find.
In the next moment the egg started to vibrate, emitting a little buzzing sound. A small flap lifted off of the top and what looked like a small metal antenna emerged. It wasn’t an antenna though, for once it reached its full height of about two inches, little metal blades appeared at the top and began to spin. They spun until the egg lifted off of Genevieve’s hand and started to hover over the paper. Suddenly a stream of bright light shot out from the lens on the bottom of the egg and began scorching the paper. Not enough to burn it - when Jensen looked closer he could see what the egg was doing. It was etching the map.
It started with the Island of Seagrave, and then expanded to show the sea around it. It filled in the Pebbles and Azimuth, and then it started in on Mainsail, from the south, etching in Oracle Grove, up past Sheppardston and beyond, going north and north and north, until it reached the northernmost part of the island, where it stopped and drew an “X” where the pool was.
Wraithwood. The path to the pool ran directly through Wraithwood, and there would be no way to circumnavigate it. The egg, finished with its task, settled on the paper, tucking its little propeller away. Misha picked up the egg, kissed it, and put it back in its box. Then he leaned over and studied the map.
"You're going to have to go through Wraithwood." His eyes were sad, darting from Genevieve to Jared to Alona and finally, to Jensen. His eyes looked at each person like they were their own tombstones, like they were already dead.
Wraithwood.
The word sat on the edges of Jensen's memory, a word, a feeling, a niggling itch - more like a memory of a memory. He heard Genevieve's sharp intake of breath and glanced over at her. Her eyes were wide and she pressed a hand over her heart, as if the name of the place wounded her.
"Wraithwood? No, we can't possibly go there."
"Aw, come on, it's a perfect vacation getaway," Misha said in jest, but the humor didn't translate completely to his face. In the next moment, the knowledge blossomed in Jensen's mind in the way that he was getting entirely too used to.
The others must have gotten the information drop as well, for Alona paled and Jared's mouth dropped open as if he had words to say but they'd withered on his tongue.
"Are you - are you quite sure?" Jensen asked, looking down at the map. There was no mistaking the path.
Wraithwood was a dead forest. It was rumored to be haunted or worse. Legend had it that some foul curse had been laid on the place. Other legends said a battle of magics had taken place there which had caused a blight on the land, but no one could say for sure. All that was known was that to enter the forest was certain death - in the past three hundred years, not a soul who had entered the forest had returned alive. Jensen did not relish the thought of traveling through those woods. In fact, he’d rather avoid it at all costs.
“Could your ship fly over the forest?” Jensen wondered aloud.
“If I had the final item I need, I could take you as far as the edge,” Misha said. “The ship is sturdy enough, but it’s a magical construct as well as a scientific one. It needs a flame lit from the breath of a dragon, and I’m not likely to get that anytime soon. It would be the perfect maiden flight, too! Helping on a noble quest! Alas!”
Jensen shared a long look with Jared, and Jared nodded his head.
“We - we might be able to help you with that,” Jensen said hesitantly. Misha perked up, but looked confused.
“How could you possibly?” Misha asked.
“I don’t want to help make that monstrosity fly,” Alona said. “Besides, what makes you think we could?”
“Dragon flame,” Jensen said, grasping Alona’s hand and tugging her towards the door. She glared but didn’t pull her hand away. Jared, Genevieve and Misha were only a step behind.
Jensen stopped in front of the flying machine, looking at it with apprehension.
“You can’t get on board yet,” Misha said. “We have to bring the stairs over.”
“Osric!” Misha shouted for his assistant. “Come assist!”
The smaller man came out of the back door of the house, sandwich in hand.
“Can I finish eating first?” Osric asked.
“Oh, hurry up,” Misha grumbled and they all stood there while Osric slowly finished his sandwich. “Are you done then?” Misha asked sarcastically. “You sure you don’t want to finish up with some tea and scones?”
Osric rolled his eyes. “What did you need help with?”
It took about then minutes, and all four men, to wrestle the giant wooden staircase over to the scaffolding and get it set up. Once that was done they climbed aboard. The scaffolding groaned and Jensen prayed it wouldn’t collapse beneath them.
“What about the balloon?” Osric asked.
“No need just yet,” Misha said. “Let’s just see if we can get the flame going.”
“The dragon flame,” Osric said skeptically.
“Do you know of another flame?” Misha countered. Osric didn’t respond, but joined them on the deck of the ship.
“Alright, I think we’re going to need all four of us to do this,” Jensen said. “Misha, show us where the flame needs to be.”
Misha directed them to a sort of station that sat near the middle of the ship. The station looked almost like a small round table with a large ceramic basin in the middle of it. Under the basin a small cabinet door was set in the wooden base. From here Misha procured three glass jars. He poured a small amount of the contents - all three of which were some sort of powder - into the basin.
“I didn’t use all of it,” Misha said, “in case this doesn’t work. If whatever you are doing does work, I imagine you’ll have a story to tell me about who you really are.”
“Deal,” Jensen said.
“How should we do this?” Jared asked.
“The flame goes here,” Misha said helpfully, pointing at the powder he’d just put into the basin.
“Wasn’t talking to you,” Alona snapped.
“Oh, right,” Misha said, backing away. “Of course. Sorry.”
“Alona, be nice,” Jensen said. “Ah, let’s see. Let’s stand in a circle around the station, join hands and concentrate on lighting the fire.”
“Think dragony thoughts,” Alona said sarcastically.
“Alona, will you please just try,” Jensen barked at her. “Do you really want to take the long way back? Do you want to risk that? The sooner we get to the pool the sooner we can finish this quest and go back to our lives.”
“Back to our lives,” Jared echoed on a breath. “Whichever lives those may be.”
Jared’s tone was somber and Jensen knew from the looks on his companions faces that their thoughts had grown serious. Jensen wondered what his life was going to be like without these other three in it. Alona and Genevieve could definitely be considered friends at this point, but Jared, well, Jared was something more. What would Jensen’s life be like without Jared? Could they still be friends?
“Dragony thoughts, Jensen,” Jared said softly, taking Jensen’s hand in his own warmer one. The contact was comforting and refocused Jensen’s thoughts on the task at hand.
“Right,” Jensen said, closing his eyes. He felt Genevieve’s small hand clasp his and he thought back to the dream memories of the dragon.
Flying high above the earth… I’m strong, wild and something to be feared. I am a dragon. I can breathe fire. I am a dragon. Feel this. Be this.
Jensen felt it before he realized what was happening - a tightness in his chest, like he was being squeezed by a large hand. There was heat there too, burning in his belly and pushing up through his windpipe, filling his mouth and then - Jensen opened his eyes in astonishment as flame burst from his mouth and lit the basin. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for Jensen to look at his companions as they breathed their own flame into the basin.
His gaze landed and stayed on Jared, who was strangely beautiful with the flame issuing forth, and when it stopped a small tendril of smoke escaped the corner of his lips, and he laughed, long and loud.
“We did it!” he gushed. “Jensen, I can breathe fire! We breathed fire!”
Jensen suddenly found himself scooped up in Jared’s arms and being spun around like a girl.
“Jared!” Jensen admonished him. “Put me down!”
Jared released Jensen, but he couldn’t help but grin at him. “That was amazing!” Jared said.
“What are you,” Misha said, staring at them with wide eyes. “When you said you could light the dragon flame, I thought perhaps you had a spell or something you were going to use. I never expected this.”
“It’s a rather long story,” Jensen said. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I’ve got all day,” Misha said.
Chapter Ten | Chapter Twelve
Back to Masterpost