by Sarah Noffke
“If you tell anyone this, Sophia, I’ll deny it vehemently,” Hiker warned.
She nodded. “Go on, then.”
“You, Sophia Beaufont, might be the person who saves us all.”
She blinked at him in confusion. “Because I’m a woman and the Dragon Elite have never had one of those?”
He shook his head. “Because somehow, someway, you woke up the world. You woke me up, and here I am, sailing across the body of water that’s been nestled outside my window for ages. I’m not thanking you, but I am blaming you. Thanks might come later.”
Sophia smiled up at the leader of the Dragon Elite, enjoying sailing across the placid waters. “And cursed blame might also.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it will be one or the other, but nothing in between.”
Sophia held her chin up as they sailed to a part of the Gullington she’d never seen, enjoying the cold air and the excitement of a new challenge as the sun edged over the horizon.
Chapter One Hundred Six
When the small boat came to the opposite shore, it wasn’t what Sophia had expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe a hotel and casino and some sort of challenge to her credibility or nobility or some other bility. What they came to was another shore like the one where they’d boarded the boat, but no castle rose out of the green hills, only a lot of rock structures and more hills.
Sophia jumped out of the boat and helped Hiker haul it onto the shore, to his obvious surprise. He arched an eyebrow at her. She gave him an expression of astonishment when he regarded her like she was a three-headed sheep.
“What?” she challenged. “What did I do this time?”
“I just expected you’d stay in the boat,” he answered.
“And have you chariot me up to dry land?” she retorted. “You really have a thing or two to learn about modern women.”
“Do they do everything for themselves these days?” he asked. “They don’t expect us to throw our cloaks over a puddle, so they don’t get their shoes wet?”
Sophia glanced back at Hiker. “Was that really a thing they did? That sounds awful. Why couldn’t they just walk around?”
He actually laughed. “They could have. Ainsley used to, yelling at the other women that they were…” His voice trailed off, disappointing Sophia, who was wearing a curious expression.
“Anyway, I’m just surprised by you sometimes,” Hiker remarked.
“And you, sir,” Sophia said, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the green hills. “So what now? Where’s the Starbucks?”
“The what?” he asked.
“The place where we get an overpriced coffee and a scone the size of our face,” she answered.
He shook his head. “Scones should never be… Oh wait, that’s one of those jokes you like to tell.”
“It’s a truthitude,” Sophia told him. “But it’s modern-world truth, so it’s a joke wrapped in the real world, which is what makes it funny. Get it?”
He shook his head. “Like most of your jokes, no, not really.”
“Well, this is going well,” she said dryly, looking off across the Pond at the Castle in the distance.
“We are going to hike toward the caves,” Hiker said, pointing up the hill.
“Cool,” Sophia said, starting in that direction. “The ones up here? Or the ones towards the top?”
“Neither,” Hiker answered. “The ones ten miles away.”
Sophia halted, her face finally taking on an angry expression. “Ten miles? Really? And you threw away my supplies because allowing me water or refreshment was totally against the rules when the others had them?”
He shook his head at her, granting her no sympathy. “You’re Sophia-freaking-Beaufont.”
Hiker Wallace, without another word, ambled in the direction he’d indicated.
Sophia hurried to get in front of the large man. “What does that mean—‘You’re Sophia-freaking-Beaufont.’ Is that an insult?”
Hiker regarded her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Just the opposite. I just leveled the playing field. You’re Sophia-freaking-Beaufont. Everything is easy for you. I send you to the Outback, and you don’t fight. Now I’m going with you on the hardest part of the training. The hike isn’t the worst part, but it’s supposed to tire you out. Let’s see how you do.”
He edged around her and continued the trek.
Sophia didn’t move. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “Do you want me to fail, sir?”
He shook his head as he turned around to face her. “No, that’s just the thing, Sophia. I’ve come to the point where I expect you to succeed, no matter the odds.”
“I don’t have it easy,” she argued, sensing where he was going with this whole thing.
“I know,” he replied almost on the heels of her words.
“I don’t get all this given to me,” she continued.
“I know that too.”
“I’ve come by this through hard work,” she insisted, unsure of what she was trying to prove.
“Sophia, do you know how many riders I’ve trained?”
She shook her head.
“More than you would expect. I’ve lost track at this point,” Hiker answered. “They never make it this far in their training so fast with so many accolades. Many have died battling those zombie dogs in the Outback. I almost did. I didn’t give you any provisions on this hike because you don’t need them. I suspect we won’t be out here long because I know what I have to do, and I think you’ll figure it out faster than any of the others. Don’t think this is favoritism, but you, Sophia freaking Beaufont, aren’t like any other rider I’ve ever trained or known.”
Sophia nearly choked after those words but recovered. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me,” he replied. “That might be a good thing or the death of us all. We will find out.”
Chapter One Hundred Seven
In a perfect world, Sophia would have had a week or so to rest up after the Australian Outback before taking a ten-mile hike. However, she didn’t live in a perfect world, even though she hoped to make it a better place. If she didn’t kill Hiker on this arduous trek.
“So if you’re hiking right now,” Sophia began after they’d been silent for over an hour with only the sounds of their boots shuffling through the grass and the birds calling over the Pond. “Then it’s Hiker hiking through the hikable hills, right?”
He sighed, obviously unimpressed by the little rhyme it had taken her over an hour to construct.
“We don’t have to talk,” he offered, stopping to rest at the top of a hill and pressing his hands into his lower back.
“What were you like as a child?” Sophia asked, unsure why she wanted to get under his skin so badly. It just seemed like the thing to do at this point. Yes, he’d been complimentary to her, but she thought it was him just being matter-of-fact. Hiker thought she was more than competent, but he also seemed really surprised by the idea like he was waiting for her to fail at some point and prove his initial judgment had been right all along.
“I was little,” he answered, moving faster as they descended the hill.
“Were you playful or curious or mischievous?” she asked.
“We didn’t play,” he answered. “That was invented in the eighteenth century.”
She nodded like this made perfect sense. “That explains it.”
“And no, Thad was the mischievous one, as we’ve previously discussed,” he went on.
“Right, and this is when you elaborate so we can have a meaningful conversation,” Sophia suggested, still unsure why she was forcing conversation on Hiker. Something about these hills was encouraging her to talk, to want to learn, maybe even to tell her own story.
“I’ve always had rules,” he began slowly, the words seeming difficult at first, like he was remembering something from long ago. “I crave order. Always have. If something is against the rules, I have a hard time even fathoming it. Thad
, on the other hand, is exactly the opposite. He breaks the rules just for the fun of it. No respect for order or organization.”
“So more like the ‘ask for forgiveness rather than permission’ type?” she inquired.
He shook his head. “I don’t think he’d ever cared for forgiveness. And definitely not permission.”
“Is it possible people are really born bad?” she mused, not wanting to believe such a notion. The far-reaching implications were too much. That meant prisons were necessary, and rehabilitation was less important. Sophia wanted to believe in a world where people were merely confused when they did wrong and could be taught to be better.
“I don’t know,” he said, considering the idea. “In Thad’s case, I absolutely think so. I’ve met other dragonriders who were just like him, albeit not as evil. No one is quite like Thad in that regard.”
“Other riders,” Sophia contemplated. “Why do they seem so black and white? Are they all either good or bad? Or are there a lot of gray ones too?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Hiker said. “Most I’ve encountered fall on one end of the spectrum or the other. There isn’t much in between.”
“That’s weird,” Sophia stated. “I grew up with many different magician families, and they were all over the place. Most were good, being associated with the House of Fourteen, but there was always some bad to the people. Even I have been known to steal a donut from the kitchen on occasion.”
“Get out!” Hiker yelled, turning abruptly to face Sophia, his face serious.
She halted, looking at him with mild annoyance. “Oh, shush it.” Sophia hiked around him and took the lead.
“What were you like as a child?” Hiker asked after a moment.
She glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Little,” Sophia answered, sticking her tongue out at him.
He rolled his eyes. “I mean, I get it’s the sort of question that answers itself since you’re still a child in many regards.”
“I’m eighteen,” she fired back.
“You’re a child until you celebrate your hundredth birthday in my eyes.”
“Is that when I get my cookie bouquet?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You get one on your five-hundredth birthday, just like I did.”
“What did you do for your five-hundredth birthday?” she asked.
“You first,” he insisted. “I asked you a question, and you haven’t answered it. What were you like as a child? More of a child than you are now.”
She thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe herself. “I was lonely.”
The expression that crossed his face made her rush into an explanation.
“I’m not saying that for sympathy,” she explained. “That’s a fact. My older siblings had full-time responsibilities as Warrior and Councilor for the House of Fourteen, as well as taking care of our parent’s business. Clark was always studying. Liv…well, she left before I can remember. For years, it was just me and my magic. No one could know I had it, though; Reese and Ian were clear on that point. So most of my education was private tutoring or just on my own. I didn’t really want to play with the other kids anyway because they always found me strange, although I don’t know why.”
“Because you were born as an authority,” Hiker said matter-of-factly.
“What?” she asked.
“All dragonriders are, according to The Complete History of Dragonriders. You remember, my book that you lost,” he teased with a serious expression on his face.
“I didn’t lose it,” she protested. “Trinity took it and is keeping it in the Great Library.”
“Which we currently have a portal open to in the Castle, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome,” she chirped.
“Anyway, I haven’t read all of the book, and I don’t remember a great deal of it,” Hiker continued. “What I do recall states that dragonriders, since they are intended to be adjudicators, are born with a natural authority. When you were young, if you told a playmate to do something, did they?”
Sophia thought for a moment, trailing back in her mind to a distant memory. “Yeah, I guess they did. I always thought that was because I’m bossy.”
“You are that,” Hiker said. “But it’s a bit more than just because you’re a rider. We have a natural capacity as judges. Our rule strikes an accord in many.”
“But this doesn’t work on other riders, does it?” Sophia asked. “That’s why you could never make Thad behave?”
Hiker nodded. “It’s the ironic part of all of this. We bring order and justice, and our history has shown those we fight most often are ourselves. Other riders have usually been the instigators—the ones who threatened the peace we worked so hard for.”
“Wow,” Sophia mused. “Maybe it would be better if there were no more dragonriders.”
Again, Hiker halted and faced her. “Don’t say something like that.”
“But sir,” Sophia began, “we serve an important role, but if most of our efforts are in trying to make other riders behave, maybe it’s just better if there aren’t riders.”
Hiker swallowed, a sober expression in his eyes. “I get your logic, but I have to believe the good riders bring more peace then the bad ones bring evil. And besides, there is only one bad dragonrider left. Once Thad is gone, then we can reign.”
“Have you considered how you’re going to take him down?” Sophia dared to ask.
A small stress line formed around Hiker’s jaw. “I believe that’s why I’m on this trek with you. So no, but hopefully on the way back, the answer will be different.”
“Do we have to hike back, or can we grab an Uber?” Sophia joked.
“A what?” Hiker asked.
She waved him off. “It was one of those jokes you love so much and rarely get.”
The pair hiked on for another hour in silence. Sophia was good with it, grateful they had a bit of conversation.
When they came to a cave opening surrounded by rectangular columns, Hiker paused.
“That’s far out,” Sophia said, admiring the stone structures which lined the sides of the cave. The blocks were so orderly they appeared man made, although it seemed unlikely.
“There’s another more well-known cave on the other side of Scotland like this called Fingal’s Cave,” Hiker explained. “Mortals know about that one, but not Falconer Cave.”
“Falconer?” Sophia asked. “Like the people who tame birds and wear eye patches?”
“I wasn’t aware of the eye patch part, but yes,” he answered.
“Well, I don’t think they start off with it,” Sophia joked. “Maybe just the really bad ones get their eyes poked out by the bird of prey.”
“You’re very strange,” he observed.
“So, what’s with this cave?” Sophia asked, studying the strange hexagonal columns which marked the entrance. “Does it have strange magical significance?”
Hiker shook his head. “The acoustics are good.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Did you bring me out here to sing?”
“There will definitely not be any singing,” Hiker answered. “The cave’s acoustics are important for this part of the training.”
“Because?” Sophia asked.
“You’ll find out.” Hiker strode onward a few paces before turning back to Sophia. “For my five-hundredth birthday, I had a glass of whisky and a quiet evening to myself.”
“So it was pretty much like every day before,” Sophia stated.
He nodded. “When you get to be as old as I am, the birthdays roll together.”
“Well, maybe for your next birthday, someone will throw you a party with streamers and cake.”
He scowled at her. “That person wouldn’t see another of their birthdays.”
Sophia laughed. “You and your threats are so cute.”
Chapter One Hundred Eight
“Why didn’t you tell me I needed to dress up?” Sophia joked when they entered Falconer Cave.
“Ha-ha,” Hiker said with no humor, his voice echoing. The cavernous space was dark and cold, like most caves. However, there was something unique about the stillness in here, but Sophia couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
“What are we supposed to do?” Sophia asked, looking around as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Sit and be quiet,” he answered.
“You made me hike ten miles to a cave with fantastic acoustics so I could sit and be quiet?” she challenged. “You get why this might be the site of a murder, right?”
“First of all, I was your gillie, making your task of finding Falconer Cave easier,” Hiker stated.
“‘Gillie?’” she questioned. “Are you making up words again?”
He shook his head. “‘Gillie’ is a Scottish term for a guide who attends men while exploring the Highlands or hunting or fishing. They know the land better than anyone.”
Sophia cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look.
Hiker rolled his eyes. “Sophia, I can’t change history. In the past, gillies accompanied men. Women didn’t hunt, so that’s the reason for the definition I gave you.”
“Okay, fine,” she acquiesced. “You were my gillie and helped me find Falconer Cave.”
He nodded. “It took Evan a week because usually I just point to the general vicinity and tell people what to look for.”
Sophia recalled the unique outward appearance of the cave. “Yeah, it would be easy to spot.”
“Second of all,” he continued, “the point of this training exercise is to get quiet.”
“Which is why you do it in a place with great acoustics?” Sophia questioned.
“The acoustics help by magnifying the quiet,” Hiker explained.
“Isn’t that like multiplying something by zero?”
He simply shook his head before settling down on the rocky ground and crossing his legs.
“Oh, you are serious about this being quiet business, aren’t you?”
“It is through meditation we come to understand ourselves, receive insights on problems, and become one with the universe,” Hiker explained in a rehearsed manner.
