by Alan Carr
We told our story at every stop anyway, just in case there were any people hiding out in the back of the crowds that gathered around us that had believed in the rumors. We weren’t welcomed as heroes, but people were generally happy to see us flying the banner of Rægena. Stone Souls weren’t especially highly regarded, but neither were we disrespected. We found lodging easily enough and had plenty to eat.
Boe and I didn’t discuss Warley for several days, until we’d settled into a steady travel routine. I brought him up first, asking Boe what he thought about Warley. Did he think he was really an impostor?
“He was,” Boe said, his mood dampening considerably when I raised the topic, “he as much as admitted it to us.”
“What will happen?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I have some idea,” I shrugged. I had given it some thought, but I figured Boe would know more about this stuff. He knew more about most things than I did.
“Well, assuming that Bayrd or Gable don’t kill him before they get to Rægena—”
I cut him off. “Bayrd wouldn’t do that. And Gable, well, Bayrd wouldn’t let him do that.”
“I guess.”
“You think we should have accompanied them back to Rægena, to make sure that Warley was safe?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Boe paused, considering. “You’re right. Bayrd has his sense of duty, and he won’t want to lose his chance to present his prize catch to Walker.”
“He’s probably more excited about catching a Stone Soul impostor than killing the dragon impostor.” I agreed.
Boe sat in silence, and then finally said, “Well, assuming he gets back safely, they’ll do some kind of investigation.”
“With magic?”
“No, just a close look at the records. Interviews with anyone they can find who knew the family back when Warley should have been born.”
“Back when we were born,” I said.
“Yeah. He said something about his sister, my guess is that she was born from an actual ceremony and then the parents, wanting a boy, obviously—”
“Obviously,” I agreed.
He continued, “Well, they might have decided to have another child quickly and then when they were old enough, switch them.”
“Just like that?”
“It would take plenty of planning. Many lies.” His voice got quiet.
“Does that kind of thing happen a lot?” I started to think about the other boys in the class.
“It happens,” he agreed, “some families are in a bad spot and really need the Stone Soul stipends to get by.”
“And some of them really need the Stone Soul stipends to go shopping every month,” I joked, thinking about Boe’s mother. He was in too somber a mood to laugh.
“Many people don’t even believe in the Stone Souls at all,” he added.
“That’s just crazy. I never got that. Why would anyone go through with the Stoneflame ceremony if Stone Souls weren’t real? If just anyone could slay a dragon?”
“They wouldn’t,” he agreed, “unless they believed it was the only way.”
“Well, there’s a reason the academies only accept Stone Souls, and a reason why they pay so much in stipends for the privilege of training us.”
“I guess,” Boe said.
“What? Tell me you don’t believe that just anyone could kill a dragon?” I looked at him, incredulous. His face was expressionless. He just kept looking ahead at the endless farmlands we were riding though.
“Magnilda says that every five years there are only nine who are Masterborn, who can actually become Dragon Masters. Or maybe there are eighteen. Or maybe eighty-one.”
“Well, which is it?”
“It might be none of those. It could be that the whole prophecy is actually the crazed work of a mad man somewhere. But even if it’s real, it sure leaves a lot to be interpreted.”
“That’s for sure.” I thought again about all those nights trying to decipher the meaning of the Jade and Silver.
“But Magnilda is sure that the Stone Souls are very real, that we’re tied to dragons and the Stoneflame ceremony.”
“Well, obviously,” I said.
“I guess it’s obvious, from a certain point of view. I just try to see things from every point of view,” he said, “you know?”
“Yeah, I know you Boe,” I said, cracking a smile. This finally got a smile from him in return.
“So you think that Warley joined up because he thought it was the only way he could get training to kill a dragon?”
“No,” Boe said, “he was really guilty about the whole thing. I could tell he was dying for someone he could trust enough to tell the truth to. But he didn’t have a good read on Bayrd. Anyway, he didn’t choose to join up with the academy. None of us do, of course. It’s always our parents.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking of my mother and father. “But it isn’t always about the money.”
“No, of course not. Your parents wanted you because they honestly believed in their duty to help provide a Stone Soul who would join the dragon quests.”
“So they tell me. And then the money didn’t hurt,” I added.
“No, it never does,” Boe agreed. “But for Warley, for his family, they’re going to pay back all that money and then some.”
***
We were zigzagging through the countryside, hitting up every marked settlement on Boe’s map. We didn’t discuss it, but he and I both knew that we were heading toward Chialaa Valley. It would likely be our last stop before we’d have to turn around and head back to Rægena to meet Bayrd’s timeline. I wasn’t looking forward to returning, and the old thoughts about running away and becoming an outsider danced in my head. I didn’t seriously entertain them. I was seeing how people lived, for real, and these were people in established cities and villages. As an outsider, I’d have to live as a hermit, probably somewhere remote and unfriendly like the swamplands. I would truly become a Bug Master then, because what else would I do with my time? Besides, the dragon quest had cemented my sense of duty, my calling as a Stone Soul. I understood that I had the potential to help people, and that helping people felt right. It was my calling, one that I couldn’t deny. I felt guilty thinking again about what Warley said about me, about how he was sure I was a Dragon Master.
“Do you think either of us will be able to kill a dragon?” I asked Boe as we were riding the next day. “I mean, really and honestly believe it. The way Warley was talking about.”
“You mean are either of us Masterborn? Maybe,” Boe said. He wasn’t very convincing. “Did you know that most Dragon Masters die in combat with their second or third dragon?”
I had some idea that killing your first dragon was not a guarantee that you would be as successful after that, but I didn’t know the numbers. I told him so.
“You’d think if Dragon Masters were all that rare then they should be somehow more powerful. Or something.” Boe was thinking out loud. “Then again, if all it took was power then anyone who killed a dragon should be powerful enough to keep killing them, at least so long as he kept up his training between Dragonbirths and didn’t get too old.”
“You spend a bunch of time thinking about this stuff,” I commented.
“What do you spend all your time thinking about?” He asked, and then added before I could reply, “I mean, besides my twin sister.”
I laughed. “Right, besides Daija. I don’t know. Stuff. Life. Things that are happening.” I couldn’t imagine doing one thing while constantly thinking about something else. Was that what life was like in Boe’s head?
“You don’t think about killing a dragon?”
“No, not really.”
“You should. You should picture what the moment will be like, plan out your moves.”
“Sure, if I was learning to dance. And I could trust the dragon not to miss a beat and step
on my toes.”
“You know what I mean, just visualize the victory.”
Our first commander in the academy had spent a lot of time talking like this, even though we were all itching to pick up swords and start beating on things. I was glad when we’d graduated to Commander Hawk and got to start really working with swords, at least I was glad at first.
“You believe in that stuff?”
“Sure,” Boe said. “But then again, I guess it hasn’t gotten me very far.”
“I’d say you’ve gotten very far.” I remembered all the mean things I’d said about Boe to the other guys. “I mean, I say stuff sometimes,” I started.
“I get it, don’t worry about it. I can take it.”
“And you can dish it out!” I agreed, laughing.
“Well, brains are good for more than just thinking about Dragon Masters getting killed by dragons. You’d know that if you had any.”
“Ouch!” I said, grabbing my chest as if I’d been struck by an arrow. I slumped back in my saddle and he laughed.
The ride with Boe felt like just what I needed to recover from some of the hardship and drama of our so-called dragon quest.
***
As I’d predicted, we reached Chialaa Valley the day before we’d have to begin our journey back, and even then we’d have to push the horses to reach Rægena in good time. Boe opened up quite a bit about his family. I knew most of the surface details: his mother’s shopping trips, his father’s constant struggles with life without his arm. But he got into details and spoke of them with a warmth that I wasn’t used to hearing. He had a lot of really good stories to share about Daija as a child, and I lapped those up eagerly. She was every bit the bratty child I remembered visiting us during the Stoneflame festival nearly five and a half years ago. I was very eager, and more than a little nervous, to see her again.
I saw Verrill first. He was just outside his home, holding a wooden practice sword that reminded me so much of the academy. Although he only had one arm, he’d gotten good at doing everything with it, and he was expertly swinging the practice sword around through the air. I recognized the move though I’d never seen it performed so quickly before. I figured that he was practicing his sword skills after the recent threats of a dragon attack, or maybe he’d be doing it anyway in anticipation of the Dragonbirths. It was great if you had a chance to run, but if confronted directly by a dragon then it was clear that Verrill wasn’t going to back down from a fight, even though he’d already proved that he wasn’t a Dragon Master. He would willingly sacrifice his life for any time that he could buy for his family or his neighbors to try to flee from the dragon. I respected that.
Then I saw that he wasn’t just practicing on his own, but also speaking to someone. As we neared the house, I saw Verrill hand the practice sword to his daughter. To Daija. I stopped my horse and gestured for Boe to stop as well. I wanted to see this, without being noticed. I wanted to just watch, to see this tender moment between father and daughter, to see Daija as she was at home. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. To my surprise, Daija mirrored her father’s movements almost exactly, with less speed and less grace, but with more enthusiasm and intensity. She reminded me of Boe, watching that. But it also felt very wrong somehow. It was proper for Verrill to sacrifice his own life to save his family, but why would he train his daughter? Would he allow his daughter to sacrifice her life so that he could escape? At best she could occupy the dragon’s attention by attacking and retreating for a short time before the dragon would eventually get the best of her. The whole idea felt irresponsible somehow, and I was quickly losing my respect for Boe and Daija’s father. I spurred my horse forward.
“Hello,” I called out, hoping that they wouldn’t realize we’d been watching. I didn’t really want to confront Verrill about it, especially not in front of Daija. Thankfully, Verrill was holding the sword again and so they didn’t have to make any move to hide what they were doing. I saluted Verrill and smiled broadly at Daija. She just looked at me in surprise, neither excited nor nervous so far as I could tell. Just uncomprehending. She didn’t even seem to notice Boe until he dismounted beside me and approached his father and they shared an embrace. I dismounted as well, and shook Verrill’s hand, then tentatively reached my hand out to Daija. She cocked an eyebrow and shook my hand briefly before dropping it.
“Hi,” she said at last. She nodded at her brother in acknowledgment of his presence.
“Come in, please,” Verrill offered. “Can I get you some food? Drink? Will you be here long? Tahlor will be back from the city tonight.”
We followed him inside the house, and Daija brought up the rear. I looked around me, fascinated by everything. Where my family’s house was sparse and plain if not downright ugly, this house was very well decorated and full of fancy things without being overcrowded by them. On the walls hung large mirrors set into fancy golden frames, and numerous whitewashed shelves decorated with small carved wooden figures depicting scenes that seemed specially picked for the season. The woven rug we were standing on was incredible, the size of the whole room, with large patterns that gave way to smaller and even more intricate patterns around its borders. I realized I was gaping a little bit, so I focused and just followed Verrill into a patio dining area through the far side of the house. We sat in large chairs that seemed to be made of free-flowing strips of delicate fabric. I was careful to remove my scabbard and parts of my outer armor that I was afraid could damage the fabric, but when I sat down I felt the strength of it and knew I was well supported. As we’d walked through the house, Boe had been speaking, answering all of his father’s questions.
“So you’ll be leaving tomorrow then,” Daija stated. She took the furthest seat away from me, and looked off at the valley around us.
“Sadly,” I said, “it’s the only way we’ll be able to make it back to the academy in time.”
“In time for the first Dragonbirth,” Daija said.
“Yes. We’re actually here because of the rumor of an early dragon this year—” I started, before she cut me off.
“A courier came and told us about it, sure. You mean they really believed all that in Rægena?”
“Well, it was true in a way,” Boe put in. He broke into the story we’d spent the past week relating repeatedly. When he got to the point about us finding the burning huts, I took over to try to add some personal details, about how Boe and I managed to save those people.
“Aren’t you supposed to chase the dragon and let others handle that kind of thing?” Daija asked.
She was right, of course. But she hadn’t been there, she didn’t hear the cries of those people. She didn’t understand. It didn’t feel like she was even trying to understand.
“There was nobody else around,” Boe protested, “and anyway we didn’t even know if a dragon was nearby.”
“You did the right thing, both of you,” Verrill came to our rescue.
When Daija received a sharp look from her father, she shrugged her shoulders and sat up out of her chair to leave. “Well, I have some things to take care of,” she announced.
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?” I asked.
“Daija,” her father started to say something, but he didn’t protest when she continued into the house with her half finished lemonade.
I excused myself and got up to follow her, and I heard Boe trying to pick up the pieces of the story to finish relating it to his father.
When I caught up with Daija in the kitchen of her house, she was just standing with her hands on the counter, her back to me. I paused. What was I supposed to say? Or do? I was just so confused.
“I’m confused,” I said, more softly than I expected.
She whirled around and studied my face. I couldn’t understand her expression, it wasn’t something I’d seen before on her. On anyone, actually. I thought for a moment that she looked angry, and then maybe surprised, or ha
ppy, and then frustrated. I supposed she might be feeling all of those, or none of them. I certainly felt like I was feeling a rush of a dozen emotions at once. I just expected things to be … happy? I thought she’d be excited to see me, that she’d jump into my arms and tell me how much she missed me. That she would miss me. The way I’d been missing her. But for me it had only been a few weeks since the festival because I’d been unconscious for so long. For her it had been much longer. Maybe she’d met someone. Maybe she’d just forgotten about me. Maybe she never cared to begin with. But I knew she did. She had to.
Even though we were just looking at each other, and even though I had no idea what she was thinking, I still relished the moment. Her hair was glowing a reddish color in the sunlight, and those keen eyes of hers carried such intensity and they were focused entirely on me. I didn’t know how she felt, but I felt all the more certain that I was falling in love. I felt a squeezing sensation in my chest; it was almost painful, but it was also entirely welcome. If I could spend another hour, or a whole day, just standing in silence looking at her as she looked at me, feeling what I was feeling, I would take it.
I heard the door open behind me, saw Daija look up over my head, watched her expression change. Though from what and to what I still didn’t know. There was so much I wanted to learn, and to know about her.
“Boe says they need to tell the rest of the town what he was telling us,” Verrill said to Daija. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll go round everyone up for you.”
I wanted to stay, I wanted Verrill and Boe to leave, for the two of us to just be alone like we were. But I knew that I was supposed to stand there with Boe, holding the flag pole, telling parts of the story myself. That the testimony of the two of us would be stronger than his alone, and the colors of Rægena would add additional weight to what we were telling them. But the whole thing seemed useless—nobody believed there was a threat anyway so why did we need to convince them that they were right? That their assumptions were all correct? I sighed and raised my hand in goodbye to Daija before leaving the kitchen. She just watched me go.
