“Something goes wrong every time I think I’m close,” he said, barely returning the hug. “Every time.”
“What made you think you were closer?” Hector asked hopefully.
“I thought I figured out a word,” Dallow said.
“Really?” Rose asked. “That’s great!”
“What word?” Hector asked encouragingly.
“The,” Dallow said. “I thought I successfully translated ‘the,’ but after looking at this book, I’m probably wrong.”
After a moment, Hector burst out laughing. Rose covered her mouth, grateful that Dallow couldn’t see. Dallow forced a terse smile, pretending to appreciate the humor, but not really.
“I should be making more progress,” Dallow said in frustration. “It’s been months.”
“You’ll get there,” Rose encouraged.
“It feels almost like Acratic, but not really.” Dallow sniped. “I’m going to call it Ughcratic.”
Rose finally let herself laugh. Even if the joke wasn’t funny, it made him smile.
“Join us for a walk?” Hector asked, reaching into a pouch and tossing him an apple.
“Sure,” Dallow said, catching the apple and biting deeply.
“You’re getting better,” Hector said.
“It’s not like being in Azaktrha,” Dallow explained. “The memndus stone didn’t work in the underwater city. While there’s obviously some sort of shield here, I don’t seem to have any problems outside.”
Rose held hands with him, even if he didn’t really need help getting around, and they followed Hector. Everyone assumed they were in another mage city. How else could this oasis exist in the middle of a blizzard? It was smaller than the others, but more colorful, as if trying to counterbalance the harsh conditions outside. Red brick roads and pathways edged by deep blue flowers wound through the city like an aimless path through the woods. Dallow had once suggested it actually was just one path, but would take weeks to follow. Tall quadratic buildings, mostly diamond shaped, rose high into a blue sky. The roof of each building angled like a hill with only one side. Several trees high, a second set of pathways connected buildings, though none of them had braved the sky paths. Who knew how old and well-kept this place really was? Dallow longed to see them more than anyone, to which Hector would often reply, “Leave flying to the Berfemmian.”
“What do you usually look for?” Dallow asked.
“A way out,” Hector said, his tone mocking.
“I know that,” Dallow said, his smile fading into a grimace.
“We mostly walk along the edge,” Rose explained. “We look for a door. Hector tries to cast your spell, Apenn.”
“Rose!” Hector snapped, spinning about and trying to stare her down.
“Really?” Dallow asked, sounding impressed.
“I don’t do spells,” Hector said sharply, still peering at Rose. “But I want out, too.”
Rose stuck her tongue out at Hector. She was impressed that he’d tried, and hadn’t intended to mock him, much.
“I’m glad you’re giving it a go,” Dallow said with a nod in Hector’s direction.
“At least we aren’t trying to smash our way out!” Hector said. “Do you remember the time Angst was still figuring out how to wield and got stuck in the kitchen cellar with that serving girl...what was her name?”
“No way,” Rose exclaimed, shaking her head.
“She was showing him the wine stores, and he tried showing off. He couldn’t control his magic back then, and there was a small quake. The entrance collapsed. After a day of tunneling, he figured out how to escape, and made the room twice as large,” Hector said.
“He must’ve been in so much trouble,” Rose said.
“It’s my understanding that the queen had wanted the room expanded, so Angst got away with it. They said all the wine they drank was his reward for helping!” Dallow laughed. “Though, I remember there being more than one woman stuck in there with him.”
Rose shook her head in disbelief. “He really hasn’t changed, has he?”
“No,” Hector said. “He’s put himself through a lot, but he’s still the same Angst.”
“What’s that?” Dallow asked, pointing toward a building.
“It looks like another library,” Rose said.
“Or something equally boring,” Hector muttered.
“Sorry, I’m looking farther ahead.” Dallow stepped faster. “Not the building. I think I see something behind it, floating in the air... Wait, boring?”
There was a scream followed by a distant thud. They followed the blind man as he took broad steps with his long legs. He led them down a smaller pathway, each of them panting as he moved faster. Dallow stopped abruptly at the entrance to a dark alley, possibly the only one in this city. A body lay on its side, curled up in a ball and hidden in shadows. Hector approached first, a small dagger in his hand, his other held out, urging them to stay back. He placed a hand on the body and shook it gently.
“It’s a woman,” he said. “I can barely make her out.”
“Sorry,” Dallow said, muttering something under his breath. A bright blue globe appeared in his hand, illuminating the dark corridor.
“No,” Hector said. “It can’t be.”
Rose took several steps forward, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. A young woman lay on her back. She wore a dark corset that was cut away at her midriff, her large breasts practically falling out with every breath. Her leather pants were sliced along each leg, showing multiple abrasions. Honey brown hair framed a face that would’ve been beautiful if it weren’t sallow and gaunt. The young woman’s arms rested at her side, and in one hand she held a very long, golden, triangular dagger. Rose reached forward, careful not to touch the woman, wary that she would start healing without being prepared. She instead rested a hand on the dagger.
“JORMBRINDER” echoed in her head, bringing to life a song that wouldn’t stop, a ringing that wouldn’t go away. She pressed both wrists to her ears but still the song jangled about inside her skull. The dagger wanted her to take it, wanted more from Rose than she was willing to give. A panic seized her. It was the nightmare all over again. Along with the song, her mind filled with flashes of the odd, tall man forcing her to bond with Chryslaenor. Rose jerked her hand away as if that dark lightning would reach out to her again.
“It’s Alloria!” she said to Dallow, grasping his sleeve. “And she...she has a foci!”
“A foci?” Dallow exclaimed. “That’s exactly what we need to get out.”
21
Oakhaven
“The hot springs don’t always work,” Marissa said, her voice entrancing. “Sometimes they’re cold, but tonight they're fine.”
“Fine is a good word,” Angst croaked. His mouth was very, very dry. Water would probably help. There was a lot of water in the bath. “Then, uh, you won’t be needing me.”
“I need you,” Marissa said, reaching for another handful of water.
Where was this attention twenty years ago? She was like a magnet to his legs, but the more he felt drawn in, the more tense his shoulders became. Hadn’t Heather kicked him out with an ultimatum? The ultimatum? Marissa’s heaving breasts didn’t take into account that he was a dad now. He should’ve been at home with his kids.
Her lips curled into a smile like a cat on the prowl.
He hadn’t come here for this. Or had he? Angst was frustrated with his crappy heroing, but hadn’t he done the job? At least a little? It shouldn’t all be about the work, shouldn’t some of it be about the attention, too? Yet Heather had been so upset, and for good reason. She didn’t deserve any of this. At this point, Faeoris would probably be upset, too. He whipped his head about to make sure the Berfemmian wasn’t marching down the stairs behind him.
“Angst,” Marissa called. “I never should’ve let you go.”
“What?” he asked, looking back at Marissa.
“It’s been so long since since I’ve met someone I like as much a
s you. I’ve been so lonely,” she said. She pulled more water over her naked torso. The glistening didn’t help. “Please. I don’t want to be lonely.”
“Felk,” he cursed under his breath. Every fiber of his body wanted to touch her, to join her in that warm pool of wet nakedness. Nobody had ever tried seducing him. Certainly not like this. He was short and stubby. Women didn’t want short and stubby. But there she was, with her curvy, really, really naked body. Perspiration from the hot spring, or alcohol, or indecision formed at his brow and dribbled down his cheek. He was wearing way too many clothes. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted this. He deserved this. Hadn’t he fought hard enough, hadn’t he heroed well enough for a moment like this? She was so...very...perfect and so...very...right now. A beautiful naked woman lay upstairs in his bed, and another was longing for him in this hot spring, and his wife didn’t want him at all. He really wasn’t doing it right.
“Uh, Marissa, I uh,” he said, looking around as if someone were watching, guilt thick in his throat. Where were the hero stories now?
“It’s so hot,” she said, but something about her voice didn’t sound quite right.
A bubble popped in the spring, and she dropped to a knee. More bubbles appeared, and she reached for the edge. Sound filled his head. Gamlin, his gamlin were warning him of something. The sound had been there all the time, but drink and nakedness had distracted him. Everything was all drunken fuzzy, and when his focus returned, he heard Marissa scream. Angst scrambled forward, but time seemed to slow. The room was suddenly lava hot, and his legs felt covered in molasses, every step a struggle. She screamed again, reaching for him. She was just out of arm’s reach, within a finger’s breadth, before he was blasted away.
Dragonfire filled the room as an enormous diamond-shaped head drove up through the ground. Her screams abruptly stopped as the hot spring, the entire side of the inn, and Marissa were just...gone. Angst grabbed for the sword over his shoulder, the one that was in his room with Faeoris. Cries from the inn’s occupants filled his ears. He reached deep down for earth, but before he could attack, the dragon roared in anguish. Angst watched as gamlin dove into the monster’s chest, boring through it like angry worms tearing into an apple.
The dragon writhed and thrashed until its head was directed at Angst. It lashed out with a burst of flame that rushed toward him. His lungs emptied in a surprised gasp as he was lifted up and away. What had him now? This was madness. He had to get to Marissa. He had to stop the dragon.
“Got you,” Faeoris said thickly, gripping him hard around his back. He could only see her hair and wings of light in their embrace. He glanced down to see she was still naked. She didn’t seem to care and held him tight.
“Let me go,” he slurred, pushing away from her, trying to twist from her hug. “Got to save her! Kill the dragon.”
They rose high into the night, finally hovering over the burning inn. He couldn’t break her hold physically and couldn’t bring himself to wield magic to escape.
“It’s done, Angst,” Faeoris said. “It’s already too late. The dragon is dead.”
“I need to see!” he shouted.
She tossed him up in the air to turn him around. His stomach lurched, but at least he could see what was going on. Patrons scrambled from the inn, running through the door or hopping out windows. The wyrm thrashed in its death throes before melting away. He could feel a great satisfaction from the four gamlin who’d killed it. There was a loud crunch as wood tore, and half the inn collapsed. A fury built in him, making him want to lash out and destroy the creature. He wanted to destroy everything! The madness blurred his vision and thoughts. Everything was dark and red. Faeoris held him like a cocoon.
“Let me go!” he roared.
“This was a trap,” she said, her voice heavy. “Heroes don’t die in traps. I won’t let you go this way. Not until it’s clear, and not until you calm down.”
“Marissa,” he said, reaching out.
He felt so incredibly helpless just watching. Aerella was already moving from person to person, the soft yellow glow from her hand healing every burn. Kala stood beside Jintorich, holding Scar in her arms. Villagers ran toward the fire with buckets, following Maarja, who dumped rain barrels onto the flames.
“Please, Faeoris,” he said, the anger subsiding. “I can put out the fire faster, and they’ll need me if another dragon shows up. Trap or not, this is my job!”
“Fine,” she said crisply, lowering him to the ground.
Aerella rushed to him. “I’m not sure you deserve this,” she said, appearing old in the firelight. She placed a cool hand to his forehead. His mind cleared and the storm in his belly subsided, all signs of inebriation gone.
“I don’t,” he replied.
It was the clarity he’d needed. “Everyone back!” Angst shouted, waving them all away from the building. He reached deep into the earth as quickly as he could until he located an underground spring. The ground shook as he opened a seam wide enough for the water to geyser up. He formed a quick air shield over the geyser that redirected water toward the burning inn. When the fire was out, he sealed off the spring so it wouldn’t do more damage.
He turned around to check on everyone. A soft glow from smoldering wood gave a clear view of tired faces. Maarja was covered in dark soot. The people of Oakhaven were exhausted and upset and Angst felt all their blaming eyes upon him. He’d apologize later. They weren’t done yet—he could feel bones moving under the rubble.
“Maarja, Faeoris, with me.” He waved them forward. “There are people alive under there, and you two are strong enough to remove the rubble without hurting them more.”
Thirty minutes later, they’d found everyone—three who’d lived and two who hadn’t. They were also able to salvage most of the gear, including their armor and his sword. After they’d done everything they could, Angst approached the crowd.
“There aren’t any more dragons nearby,” he said, having confirmed this with the gamlin. “It’s done.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Manst called out from the group of people. “Because of you!”
“Yes,” Angst said wearily, suddenly tired to his bones. “Marissa is gone.”
Manst ran to Angst, his fists high in the air. Faeoris stood before him, but Angst gently pushed her aside. The man tried to beat on him, but Angst merely held him in a bear hug until the flailing stopped. Angst didn’t have tears, it was too fresh, but Manst seemed to have enough for both of them.
“She deserved better than you!” Manst cried before collapsing to the ground.
Angst placed a hand on Manst’s head and tried to comprehend all of it. The dead woman he’d barely known. The upset, confused people of Oakhaven. His distraught companions. This had to stop. Death had to stop being the outcome for this nonsense of war between the elements. Manst was right; Marissa had died because of him. Being here had put her in danger, and he should’ve known better.
“She did!” Manst sobbed. “She deserved better.”
“You’re right,” Angst said, pushing the man to stand on his own. “She did. You do. You all deserve better.” He looked at his traveling companions, making eye contact with each of them. He suddenly felt very cold, and very angry. “Every single one of you. And I’m going to give you better.”
They all stared at him like he was supposed to apologize, or mourn. He looked at Faeoris, jerking his head in a way that suggested it was time to leave.
She nodded in firm agreement.
“Let’s summon our swifen, and get out of here,” Angst growled, his throat dry from smoke and resolve. “We’ve got work to do.”
22
Angst and Heather's cottage
“I really should be on watch,” the young man said apologetically before stuffing another honeyroll into his mouth.
“Even brave guards need to eat, Mehta,” Heather said with wink.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made Angst’s favorite rolls, but it would be r
ude not to feed her guest. It had to take a lot of food to sustain that sort of physique, and it was her duty to be a good hostess. Making those rolls had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mehta was cute. But Heather felt a sense of justification for feeding this cute young man in her home when Angst spent so much time gallivanting around with so many beautiful young women. This twenty-something, with his tousled black hair, dark eyes, and chiseled jaw, was the thing of dreams. The collar of his tan homespun shirt opened wide enough to tempt her gaze with a hint of collarbone. Not that she’d ever fantasize about olive complexion, or bulging muscles, or friendly disposition, or the fact that he was a flirt. Was it flirting? It had to be—some of the things he said really made her blush. Like “hi.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping the makeup wouldn’t melt off her burning cheeks. “What was that, dear?”
“Did you always know Angst would be a hero?” he asked, while making funny faces at the twins. They both giggled, each grabbing a hand, making his forearms flex. He was a natural with children. “Or did it just sort of happen?”
And he had to bring up her husband. It was like a splash of cold water, washing away daydreams. Daydreams she really didn’t have, because that would be inappropriate for a married woman. “He always wanted to be a hero,” she said. “All his life. He even trained to be a soldier, but they wouldn’t have him because of wielding. Once he decided to take that giant sword, it all fell into place.”
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