by J. R. Ford
I was a coward. No matter how I pretended, I was a liar, a weakling, a hypocritical, lecherous coward. My family deserved someone who would make them proud. Farrukh deserved someone who wouldn’t stomp on his feelings. Ana deserved someone who would show her the same unwavering dedication she showed us.
Heather deserved someone who didn’t smother her, or belittle her, or break his promises. Someone who trusted her. Someone who would at least try, even if it would end in pain. What didn’t?
I told my reflection, “Pretend time is over.” The words rasped in my throat. At least my final act in this world wouldn’t be a lie. It would smash the tower of deception I’d started building the first moment I had met Heather and Ana, and I’d be buried among its ruined foundations.
I tapped my fingers into my palm, opening the menu. The pain throughout my body paled in comparison to the tearing in my soul as I navigated to “Log Out”.
I worked saliva into my cotton mouth, enough to say, “I love you,” so she’d hear it if she could bring herself to review the stream. “And I’m sorry.” I lay back, my entire body passing into the shadow of my grave, and gathered the last of my courage.
Before my watery will could transmute to stone, I heard a bleat from above and craned my neck, shading my eyes from the bright light. On a rock outcropping about thirty feet up, there stood a familiar white mountain goat.
14
At the sight of that goat, elation lifted my heart, and guilt gripped my stomach. It leapt, glowing in midair, then Heather shouted, “Catch me!”
My fingers were swollen and burnt raw, but I forced them into nullify momentum in time to stop Heather from squashing me. She flailed a little in the air, stepped onto the ledge, and collapsed into my lap. My left arm roared in pain.
“Thanks,” she breathed. “I ran out of mana.”
“Please,” I hissed, and she scrambled off me.
“Oh, Pav, I’m sorry,” she said, choking on the last words. “Oh, my poor Pavel…”
“Do you have a Health Potion?” I croaked.
She shook her head. “I saw you were still streaming, but Farrukh was sure you were beyond help. He tried to stop me from coming down here, thinking I’d get myself killed too.”
Of course she’d checked on me. I didn’t have the strength to tell her Farrukh had been right. “Water…”
She handed me her canteen, and I glugged down as much as I could stomach. Not much, with my insides a knot of apprehension and guilt. At least she hadn’t realized I was moments away from departure.
Her quiet voice dispelled that notion. “You were about to log off, weren’t you?”
Before I could think better, I offered, “I was just checking my spell list.”
She didn’t buy it, of course. “You promised me. What if I’d found your corpse?”
The words broke something within me. Tears filled my eyes again. “What’s the point? I’m still trapped down here.”
“I can go back,” Heather said. “Once my mana is back, and the increased goat cost has worn off, I’ll climb back up and return with a Health Potion.”
“Then what?” I asked. “You can’t take me up, and it’s a long way down.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Heather insisted. “We can get through anything, as long as we’re alive, and together.” Suppressed emotion strained her voice, but her gaze was hot iron.
“Yeah,” I lied. She could not impart that will upon me.
“You promised me,” she repeated, as if some stupid promise mattered now. Words couldn’t rescue me.
“It hurts,” I whispered. At least that much was truth.
Her gaze softened, just a little. “Hang in there. We’ll get out of this.”
“How?” I cried. “I can’t move. I can barely make my shapes. Will you even have the mana to get back up?”
“Then I’ll find another way back,” she said, as if wanting something to be true could make it so.
I shook my head. “This ledge is my grave. I’d made my peace with that, before you showed up.”
Anger flared in her yellow eyes. “Shut up, shut up,” she said. “Don’t blame me for your weakness.”
She had my heart in her claws and was ripping. “I’m just being realistic. Would you rather have me sit here and suffer until I die? Maybe I am weak, but you can’t give me your strength. Only mercy.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a screech tore through the air.
“And now we’re both going to be dragon food,” I said, hearing the beating of massive wings. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”
“Stop it!” Heather shouted, tears running down her face.
But it was too late. No picking up a towel thrown over that precipice. I leaned into her and pressed my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll do my best. Maybe we can find some way to see each other.” Weak words of comfort, void of conviction.
The thumping of air grew louder. “Shut up,” Heather said, and pushed me away. “We need to think.”
It stung that she would deny us intimacy in our final moments together. I took a good look at her face, tear-streaked and dirty and beautiful. Perhaps the image would bring me comfort in the lonely nights to come. Why did I lie to myself like that?
“When we first saw the dragon, back at the Durg, it attacked us,” she said, for some reason. “Even Vedanth, its master. He ran up to it while we ran away. I didn’t get a good look at what happened — did you?”
The scene, and the associated terror, were vivid on my television. “His hands glowed purple.”
“Maybe one of his Null spells calmed the dragon down, allowed him to ride it.” She looked into my eyes. “We might have a way out.”
The dragon was a silhouette above. “And how am I supposed to touch it? It’ll toast us.”
“Start building up mana,” she said, and brought her hand back. I didn’t cast nullify momentum. Even through the agony of my shredded body, her slap stung. It seemed fitting that her final touch brought me pain rather than succor.
“Come on! I didn’t come down here to watch you die!” she shouted, raising her hand again. This time I nullified it. My mana bar gurgled up to 36/100. “Again!”
I made the symbols in silent despair. Redirect momentum could only be cast on myself.
My mana bar filled over the next few attacks, which Heather delivered with grim ferocity. I said, “I can’t leave you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Look.” She indicated the valley spread before us. “It looks like it heads toward Tyrant’s Vale.”
“How will you get down there?”
“Once I have full mana, I’ll transform and jump.”
“What if something goes wrong?” Even if it went right, she would have to suffer another death in animal form. I hated the thought of her enduring that pain, and that it would be because of me made it so much worse.
“It’s that or we both die,” she said, and as I caught her final blow, my mana rose to 96. “And you promised me.”
“That’s enough,” I said, though she could tell from the bright purple aura emanating from my stained palm.
“So start redirecting.” Her voice was stout enough to make me feel even worse. Still, I began the long strand of symbols.
The silver dragon leveled before us. Wind buffeted us with each flap. Its neck still bore the black scar from where Pradeep had struck it with lightning. Its saddle was still strapped where long neck met shoulders.
“Go,” Heather said, and I gave her one final look before turning back to the dragon, its neck writhing as it prepared to spit fire. I staggered up onto my good leg and completed my spell.
I was propelled upward, toward the head of the dragon. It flinched, startled, then reared its head to catch me in its jaws. I threw the last of my will into forming nullify momentum. Three pings cut through the air’s howl, and I thrust my palm out, catching the dragon on the snout.
It paused in midair, just as I cr
ashed into its face. I wrapped my limbs around its head, though pain made my vision pulse and warp.
It looked back and forth lazily, either confused or placated. Then, with a couple of powerful wingbeats, we were off.
I got one final blurry look at Heather, crying and waving me good-bye. “I’ll see you in Tyrant’s Vale!” she shouted.
I tried not to doubt her. Then the dragon twisted, and I had to focus on not falling off. We ascended with speed, leaving Heather in the mountain’s shadow.
15
The dragon spiraled up the mountainside, gaining speed, its temperament returning. It snorted smoke and thrashed its head. I gripped hard with my thighs and one good arm and fought to stave away the blackness encroaching on my vision. Wind rushed around me, deafening, stealing the breath from my lungs.
But not light-headedness, whirling pain, nor leaden guilt could hamper the elation rising in my gut. I wasn’t dead, and neither was Heather, not yet.
We cleared the path where I’d initially fallen. Through the spinning and my watering eyes, I could see two figures, one in bright chainmail and the other garbed in the muted colors of the forest.
I couldn’t hang on much longer anyway. The blackness was winning, and beneath the adrenaline, agony’s ugly maw gaped. Once we were directly overhead, I rolled off.
The dragon’s momentum threw me, but not far enough to miss the path. My raw fingers made their shapes, and I slapped the null ring to my thigh in time to suspend myself a few feet above the path. When I fell, I got my good leg beneath me and collapsed onto my right side. Still, the impact knocked the last of the air from my lungs and sent spikes of pain through my broken limbs.
“Pav!” Ana cried. “You look horrible.”
“Potion,” I gasped. “Please.”
Farrukh was already on it. “We need to set your bones,” he said.
It had to be done. I’d endure.
The flesh of my left forearm was pruned from its bloodbath, but the fresh air felt cool. I whined as Ana tugged my boot off, the leather catching on a splinter of bone jutting where calf met ankle. I closed my eyes tight.
Pain. When I opened my eyes, my twisted arm was straight, and my ankle was the right shape. Both throbbed fiercely. Farrukh offered me his canteen and I glugged the potion down, ignoring the visceral, metallic taste. My flesh felt warm as it knit itself back together. The pain receded, but the woozy light-headedness remained.
“Drink this,” Farrukh said, snatching Ana’s canteen.
I drank until my stomach wanted to burst. “Thanks,” I gasped, heaving deep breaths.
“He still looks horrible,” Ana said. If I looked like I felt, she was right. She continued, “We need to get him to shelter.”
“Heather,” I muttered. “I have to go back.” Problem was, my vision was still spinning. I was more likely to get myself killed than save her.
“You need rest,” Ana said.
The two helped me to unsteady feet. I forewent my soaked sock and boot, the leather of which had been warped and wrinkled by its bath. My ankle protested as I took my first steps, still convinced it had been dealt a terrible blow but confused by the lack of pain. Ana supported me.
“Did Heather have a plan?” she asked.
“She can’t make it back up. She said she’d meet us in Tyrant’s Vale.”
Ana didn’t respond. I hoped she didn’t hate me. Not that I’d blame her. It looked like Heather had just traded her life for mine, again.
But I was sure she hadn’t. Sometime along the way, Heather had convinced me, again.
Farrukh groaned. “And our quest becomes even more dangerous. I suppose you two are determined to go after her?”
Ana flared. “Why are you so quick to suggest leaving our friends to die? First Pav, now Heather?”
“I know you two are fine dying trying to save your friends, but I’m not.”
“Then leave!” Ana shouted. “But I’m a woman of my word. I won’t abandon her.”
I was still delirious with blood loss, but the situation seemed like it needed some of my famous tension-diffusing skills. I met Farrukh’s gaze and hoped I could wrangle my disoriented thoughts into something inspiring. “I don’t want to die. But to us, we’re all worth living for. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave me. But — I can’t speak for Ana or Heather — but I’d do anything to keep you alive, too.”
Ana butted in. “You bet I would, too. What kind of leader would I be if I weren’t committed to my partymates?”
Farrukh grunted, “Don’t get so worked up. I never said I was leaving. Come on. Pav needs rest.”
We hobbled along until the path dipped below the summit and clung to one side of the mountain. Downhill was easier than up. Soon we found a shallow indentation, where I collapsed.
A screech woke me. It was dark out, and chilly. I had nothing to blanket me but my tattered cloak. Someone had put a pillow beneath my head: Farrukh, judging by how Ana slept on hers. The screech hadn’t roused her.
My mind was still foggy, but there were words to be said, little as words were worth. I crawled out to where Farrukh sat sentinel, his strung bow on his knees. Moonlight bathed our shelter, but Farrukh had drawn his hood up, and his face was shrouded in darkness.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked.
“I like to have some time to think, at the beginning and end of each day. Contemplation.”
“Contemplating what?”
“Allah, the universe, if I should tell her how I feel, what to do about that dragon. I’m thinking, put an arrow down its throat. Might stop it from frying us. But that won’t kill it.” He looked at me. “If it tries to overpower us, you’ll have to stop it. Maybe while it’s confused, I can get an arrow into its eye. That thing better drop an Artifact.”
“Good plan,” I said. “But I hope it doesn’t come back.”
“Me too.”
“Listen, Farrukh. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault that thing attacked us.”
“That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” I looked up at those mysterious stars. “I shouldn’t have criticized you. You have our best interests at heart, and you’re a better person than I am besides.”
He snorted. “You really think I care so much about what you think of me?”
“Either way. When I was down there, thinking I was dead, I regretted the way I’d acted toward you.”
He was silent a long moment. “All right,” he eventually said. Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I heard the tightness of sincerity in his voice. “And I’m sorry, too, for suggesting we leave you.”
“It’s okay, I wouldn’t have believed in me either. But you’ve been with us for a while. You should’ve learned by now that Heather and Ana can do the impossible.”
“I hope so.”
“And, for what it’s worth, I think you should tell her. There were things I regretted not telling Heather.”
He shook his head. “The logic is all wrong. If I die, I’d rather not have told her anything. I would always have the memory of our time together, untainted by rejection.”
“You don’t think she deserves to know how you feel?”
“Why would she?” he asked.
“Good question.” I certainly didn’t have an answer. “Are you so certain she’d reject you?”
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t. I’m just some poor Indian kid.”
“Being poor in real life doesn’t matter here,” I said.
“It matters after all this. Why would she choose me over Jeremiah, when he’s rich and lives near her? Why not try to forge a relationship that won’t be shattered when one of us dies?”
I laughed. “There are so many things wrong with that!” He opened his mouth to complain, but I continued. “Number one, you’re a hypocrite.”
“Yeah.”
“Number two, do you think less of my and Heather’s relationship just because it’s over once one of us dies?”
“Wouldn’t you rathe
r that not be the case?”
“One hundred times yes. But that doesn’t change how I feel when I see her. When I hold her.”
Farrukh put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll see her again.”
“I know,” I said. “I just hope, after all this, we can go back to how things were. The four of us, in the cabin.”
“I’m doubtful. Regardless of what I say, or don’t. This invasion changes everything.”
“Maybe we can stop the orcs.”
“Maybe,” Farrukh said. I didn’t know if he was just humoring me.
We watched the sky together for a while, silence reflecting two friends in companionship.
The next morning, we pressed hard for Tyrant’s Vale. For once, I was in the lead, driving us toward my reunion with Heather, my teeth gnashing at bittersweet herbs. My soul hungered for her visage. I ate the miles like a starving man.
I had no doubt she’d make it. But the Vale was orc territory, and if it came to a fight, she’d need us.
The wind chilled my bare arms. I’d borrowed one of Farrukh’s spare tunics.
The dragon screamed from somewhere behind us. Farrukh kept his bow strung.
Ana was resolute, keeping the hard gait despite her armor and heavy breath. She seemed as determined as I was to see Heather safe.
My revelry in a painless existence waned as the aches of travel set in once more. And my head still felt light. When we stopped for lunch, I gobbled down dried meat and bread at a pace that had Ana and Farrukh looking concerned I would choke.
The path wound around the mountains, overlooking the forest for a stretch. Trees glimmered green, gold, and red under fall’s descending curtain.
“There’s the river!” I said, pointing. It streamed from the mouth of the Vale. We were close. The path veered back into the mountains.
Afternoon had us there. We peeked past a boulder into the cradle of the valley.
Springs bubbled into streams, which flowed down to the river. Grasses and stunted trees clung to the rocks. Waterfalls rushed down from cliffs, and nearly directly above us, Vedanth Durg looked down. The village at its base had been rebuilt.
