Interview with a Dragon Hunter
Today, I am pleased and excited to get to introduce you all to Ilsa Starling, the main character of Chase the Legend: a fantasy retelling of Moby Dick by Hannah Kaye!
Ilsa is waiting for me in a small pub on one of the village's quieter streets. The restaurant's warm air is thick with the smell of fresh seafood and the murmur of voices, a pleasant relief after my brisk walk through the frigid, damp air of this remote island settlement. As I make my way toward a rough-hewn table in the pub's back corner, Ilsa catches my eye and smiles. "Jenelle?" she greets, standing and offering her hand. "Thank you for your letter. I must admit I'm rather impressed you've traveled all this way. Please, sit. I've ordered us some tea. Warm up a bit. The fog is relentless today." She picks up a pewter teapot and pours two cups of a steaming herbal brew.
It smells delicious, and, as fantasy food always tastes better than real food, I am pleasantly surprised to find that it tastes as good as it smells.
“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” I say. “Can you just state your name and we’ll get started, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
"Miss Starling," she says automatically, then catches herself with a bit of an embarrassed smile. "But you can call me Ilsa, obviously. Sorry, old habits. I was a schoolteacher for the last few years. But now that I'm going back to sea, it will be nice to drop a bit of the formality."
“Nice to met you, Ilsa.” I grin. “Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite. Would you be willing to tell my readers a little bit about yourself. What sorts of things are you good at? What do you like to do in your free time?”
"My grandfather was a merchant captain in the South Ardan Isles," Ilsa says with a fond smile. "He raised me, so I grew up sailing. I spent more of my childhood on boats than in school. Before Grandfather died, he set me up with a comfortable living and a good job, teaching at a university preparatory school, run by an old friend of his. I lived on campus and taught literature to a rambunctious lot of twelve-year-olds, though whether I was ever very good at that or not is up for debate. I loved my students, and I dearly love to read and discuss literature, but I feel more at home among masts and sails and spars than anywhere else. Which, I suppose, is why I've found myself back here, at the edge of the sea."
“Growing up on the sea sounds like an exciting childhood,” I say, scribbling notes quickly. “Can you tell us a little bit about your world? Where do you live?”
"I guess you could say I'm in transition," Ilsa replies. "I've just traveled from Central Melvia, far inland from here. Map's End is a valiant little village, isn't it? Built right into the dips and rises of this rocky little island. The final island, they call it. When you leave here and head north, there's nothing but open ocean ahead. Just the wild sea, up until the moment you reach the Edge." There's a touch of apprehension in her voice, but she quickly shakes it off. "But I couldn't call Map's End home. Truth be told, I haven't been here long, and I don't plan to stay. I only got here this morning, and I'm shipping out this evening. I guess that would make my home the Hunting ship Relentless, wouldn't it? I've always felt more at home on the sea than on land, anyway."
“So, you’re going to be a dragon hunter? Why have you chosen that profession? It seems a bit different than being a school teacher.”
"Melvia runs on the power of dragon oil. Our power, our industry, our innovation...it all hinges on Hunters going out to the Edge of the World and harvesting the dragons. Grandfather always said that only the bravest sailors go after the great beasts of the deep," she says slowly. "I'm going to sea because that's where I feel most at home. It's a balm for my heart when life gets too heavy to bear. But why am I sailing on a Hunting voyage? Perhaps it is because I need to feel brave."
I nod, a bit pensively. “What is one of your happiest memories?”
Ilsa smiles, a little wistfully. "Once, when I was little, my journey home from a school term was delayed. I ended up arriving home at Grandfather’s manor past midnight. His housekeeper told me to wait and surprise him at breakfast, but I couldn't wait to see him. I rushed to his room and climbed, high-buttoned boots and all, into his enormous bed—the one that looked like a sailing ship, complete with a dragon-shaped figurehead carved into the footboard, and great wooden posts draped with voluminous curtains that reminded me of billowing sails. I'll never forget how Grandfather woke up laughing, gathering me up into a big, sleepy hug." She brushes a wisp of hair out of her face, halfheartedly guiding it back towards her braid. "Five years gone, and I still miss him every day."
“That sounds like a beautiful memory,” I murmur sympathetically, wishing I could comfort her in some way, but every question I ask seems to bring her a sadness I do not understand. I try to think of something light-hearted before I dive into some of the deeper questions I need to ask. “What’s your favorite kind of animal?”
Before Ilsa can answer, a whiskered face pokes up over the table beside her. The creature looks remarkably like a large white rabbit, but as it hops up onto the table and begins snuffling about the teacups, I’m surprised to see that it has a beautiful pair of large white wings folded primly against its back. "Ah," Ilsa says, a note of exasperation in her voice. "That's Mobius. He's, um, not terribly shy, I'm afraid." She gives the creature a reproving look. "You were supposed to be taking a nap in my bag, Moby." Mobius ignores the scolding and sets to preening his plush white fur.
“What is that?” I ask, leaning forward in fascinated curiosity.
"Oh, Mobius?" Ilsa says. "I'm not surprised you've never seen his kind before. He's a homing tammer, and a well-bred one too. Got a pedigree that stretches all the way back to the days of the kings. You'd think he'd be a little more polite, wouldn't you?" Ilsa shakes her head, but the gesture is affectionate. She pets the soft slope of Mobius's forehead. "Mobius may have come from a noble lineage, but raising tammers is more of a gentlemen's hobby these days. Phillip looks after one of the last traditional aviaries in Central Melvia..." Ilsa trails off, averting her eyes as if she said something she didn't mean to. She clears her throat. "Anyway," she says briskly. "I've taken care of Mobius since he was a kit. He's my dearest friend." Mobius nibbles delicately at the nail of his forepaw. "Even if he is a bit of a vain little scoundrel."
I grin and reach a friendly hand to Mobius, who sniffs suspiciously at my fingers and then deigns to let me pet him. “What sorts of clothes do you prefer to wear?” I ask a bit absent-mindedly.
"Unlike Mobius," Ilsa gives the creature a pointed look. He doesn't seem to care. "I don't trouble too much with my appearance. Simple and practical is the way to go in my line of work. I mostly just wear variations on this," she shrugs as she tosses her long brown braid over her shoulder and gestures to her simple blouse, vest, and wool skirt. "Oh, and a cloak or oilskin when the sea is rough," she adds. "Let me amend that previous statement: simple, practical, and warm," she laughs. "These icy seas are a far cry from the tropical waters I sailed as a girl."
“What are some of your favorite foods?” I ask, still playing with the tammer.
"Oh, are you smelling it, too?" Ilsa takes a deep breath and smiles. "Mmm. Nothing like seafood chowder and fresh bread on a bitter day like today. I'm tempted to go and order a bowl, but I did tell Yuri I would wait until he got here. He's at the market getting us some final supplies before we sail later this afternoon."
“Who is Yuri?” I ask, looking up at her. “A friend? What can you tell me about him?”
"Yuri's my travelling companion," she says. "As of yesterday, actually. Strange, isn't it, how in certain circumstances it isn't odd at all to become so close in so short of a time? Voyaging will do that to anyone. Yuri may look fierce, but he's a protector. Heaven knows I need that."
“How did you meet?” I ask, now fully invested in the conversation again.
"Um," Ilsa's cheeks flush. "It's a bit of an embarrassing story. Maybe it's best to save that for another time."
I am exceedingly curious, but I can tell she’d rather not talk about this at the moment, so I move on towards my final questions. “Is there anything you would like to change about your present circumstances?”
"Oh," Ilsa's smile flickers, and something heartbreaking and desperate flashes in her eyes. She hides the expression in a long sip of her tea, and when she looks up from the steaming cup, her expression is schooled once more. "Well, like I said, I've just signed aboard a Hunting ship. Relentless. We're shipping out for the Edge of the World, to hunt dragons." She gives a little laugh and shakes her head. "Sounds a bit unbelievable to say aloud, doesn't it?" Her smile fades and her vision clouds. "But the captain of my ship..." she says slowly. "Well, when I went to sign the ship's articles and join the crew, he was in a horrible temper. His first mate, was backing out on the voyage, and in a flare of anger, the captain declared that he could make the voyage with anyone in the world as his first mate. In that hot-tempered moment, he saw me, and hired me on the spot." Ilsa shakes her head. "I couldn't say no. Me, a first officer? It's almost too good to be true. But it doesn't feel right to start a voyage like that. I suppose if I could change anything, it would be my first encounter with Captain Chase. I would have preferred to meet him in a level-headed, calm encounter, rather than such an explosive, rash moment. I hope it isn't an omen of what is to come in our relationship."
“Wow.” I sit back in my chair and would totally let out a low whistle if I could, but even though I can travel between realms, I cannot whistle in any of them. “That’s a big job to take on all at once and unexpectedly. Think you’re up to it?”
“I hope so,” Ilsa says in a voice so low I can barely catch it.
“I’ve taken up a lot of your time,” I say apologetically. “Final question and I’ll go. If you could ask your author one question, what would you ask?”
"My...what?" Ilsa tilts her head, a bit confused. Then her eyes widen and a bit of cautious understanding overtakes her expression. "I'm a literature teacher, Jenelle. I've studied authors extensively, and if I know one thing, it's that often they write the books they themselves need to read. So, perhaps, I would like to know... what is it about me that my author needs to learn from? And if my story takes her to uncomfortable places, is she willing to listen to the message my story is meant to convey?"
I give her a gentle smile. “Thank you so much for meeting with me today, Ilsa. I think my readers are really going to enjoy getting to know you.”
