by Matthew Lang
“Really? You hurt her?”
“Yeah. The sword certainly works,” Adam said. “But that’s the thing. How can I get close enough to strike with it when she can just fly off and kill me from a distance?”
“One thing at a time, Adam,” Duin said, removing the breast and backplates from his jerkin and then easing Adam out of the stiff leathers. After dipping a cloth in the warm water, he started cleaning the blood from Adam’s face and hair. “You know, I hate it when you do this.”
“Do what?”
“Run off without me.”
“I had to,” Adam said. “Zoul wouldn’t go with anyone else.”
“Sometimes I feel like I should have been a healer rather than a hunter, given the scrapes you get into.”
“If you weren’t a hunter, we’d have died before we got here,” Adam said, wincing as Duin’s ministrations dug at the gravel and splinters in his wounds. “Why do these things always hurt more afterwards?” he grumbled.
“Because if they hurt this much when you were getting them, you’d never last a fight.”
“Yeah, I know, adrenaline and such,” Adam said irritably. “Sorry, that was just me wishing it didn’t have to hurt so much.”
“Well, we’ll have you patched up in no time flat,” Duin said.
“No time flat?” Adam asked. “You never say that.”
“You mean, I never did until I met you,” Duin said with a smile that was only partially forced.
“So now I’m a bad influence as well? Thank you so much.”
Duin shrugged and waved over a healer, who started to apply a pungent salve to Adam’s wounds before the worst of his injuries were bound with clean bandages. “I should give you this back as well,” Duin said, lifting the spider’s eye pendant off his head.
“It looks better on you, you know,” Adam said.
“This pendant was a gift from Princess Esmeralda,” Duin said sternly. “And it was given to you, not to me.”
“I know,” Adam said, ducking his head so Duin could put the pendant back around his neck. “I was just making an observation.”
Duin’s smile was brief, and Adam noticed how his lover’s hands trembled ever so slightly as they continued to clean his wounds. Thankfully, the thick leather trousers had prevented any major damage to his lower body, just the bruising he had taken from being knocked around. The pain of putting his cleaned armor back on, however, was much greater than he had anticipated.
“I know it hurts,” Duin said sympathetically, “but it will hurt a lot more if you get caught without it on. It will take at least a sleep for the salve to do its work.”
“Please tell me the salve is magical,” Adam said, gritting his teeth against the weight of the breastplate and backplate that Duin was reattaching.
“Blessed, Sir Adam,” the healer corrected sternly. “The favor of the goddess is a gentler balm than the brute force of sorcery, and much more effective at healing.”
“Is that a tone of disapproval I hear in your voice, Healer Marcel?” Duin asked.
“Sorcery damages the fabric of the world,” Marcel said. “It tears what is real to exert itself and allows chaos into the order of nature.”
“Does that order of nature include a great winged fire-breathing dragon killing everything in its path?” Adam asked pointedly. “Because if it does, I say ‘Yay, sorcery.’”
Marcel sighed and rubbed at his temples. “I know, but I still don’t have to like it. Sorcery leaves a stain on the world, Sir Adam. I have spoken to the Elders of Selune, and we know the dragon is using sorcerous magics.”
“Well, we did suspect that was the case,” Adam said.
Marcel shook his head. “With respect, Sir Adam, we suspected the dragon had found a way to bolster her own powers. However, it was always a possibility that her powers were a gift from Helene, rather than those wrought through magic.”
“If the results are the same, what does it matter how she got her powers?”
Marcel smiled as he tied off a bandage on Adam’s arm. “Because it means her powers are not drawn from the favor of Helene. The very fact that she has them may even be a sign that Helene’s favor is waning.”
“Okay, but how does that help us?” Adam asked.
“I suppose you could take some comfort in the knowledge that Helene may not smite you for destroying her champion,” Marcel said. “And that she may not give aid to Khalivibra in your final confrontation.”
“That’s a lot to put on a ‘maybe,’” Adam said.
“But better than having the opposite as a certainty. Had we known earlier, we may have been bolder in the past.”
“Well, you may have to be bolder now,” Adam said as he stood up and then sat back down in a hurry as the world swam before his eyes. “Okay, that wasn’t a good idea.”
“You should probably eat,” Duin said as he reached into a rucksack and pulled out some spider jerky and some fruit that Adam had never quite got a handle on, looking like small yellow bells and tasting a little like a watery guava. “Here,” he said, placing them into Adam’s hands and pulling out a waterskin that he placed on the rock between them. “I’ll get Zoul.”
ADAM HAD never tried to describe a lizard happily galloping toward him. He had heretofore never thought of a galloping lizard, and truth be told, he had never expected to see one. In Adam’s limited experience, giant riding lizards didn’t gallop so much as scuttle, with a sinuous motion that put him in the mind of a six-legged serpent slithering through the landscape. Apparently, Zoul did have a gallop switch, but it wasn’t one he chose to use very often. His head was held high, mouth open, and crest fully extended upward as he ran across the broken ground, six large feet flailing as he all but danced around Adam, butting him enthusiastically with his head.
“Ow, Zoul, stop it,” Adam said, pushing on Zoul’s head to stop him from hitting him again. “I’m glad to see you too, okay?”
Zoul chirped happily and promptly settled down next to Adam, worming his way forward so Adam’s left hand was resting on his head.
“All right,” Duin said when he reached them, riding Hele at a more sedate walk some minutes later. “I feel a bit bad saying we need to ride now,” he said, unbuckling his riding harness.
Zoul closed his inner eyelids and hissed as Duin approached.
“Do you think you could talk to him?” Duin asked Adam plaintively. “He’s been like that ever since I stopped him following you up the council tree.”
“Be nice, Zoul,” Adam said, tapping his mount on the nose. “I needed you away from the dragon.”
Zoul’s chirp sounded more like a grumble, but he allowed Duin to approach and help Adam with his riding harness, even if he gave Duin the proverbial cold shoulder, or six. Despite his aches and pains, Adam found settling down into the saddle was something blessedly familiar, and he happily urged Zoul into a walk, following Duin to the edge of the city boundary and back up into the highway of old tree boughs, where they were met by Hunter Joeri and Elder Thera.
Joeri nodded as they approached. “Welcome back, Sir Adam,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
“Me either,” Adam said. “Waur Thera,” he added, inclining his head toward the woman, who looked more or less the same in the deep shadows of the old forest, only a light dusting of fur covering her features.
Elder Thera inclined her head but made no other acknowledgment as the words of the blessing tumbled from her lips.
“We take no chances,” Joeri explained softly. “Come, we must ride.”
Chapter 23
THE TREETOP dwelling Joeri led them to reminded Adam of the sleeping shelters he and Duin had frequently constructed in the rainforest. Based in a stand of large hollow trees with thick elephant-like branches, there were enough haerunwoln crammed into the small area that Adam couldn’t see how it could hide anyone should a patrol march by.
“We’re not safe here,” he murmured as they dismounted, handing the reins of their mounts ove
r to a lizard keeper.
“I know,” Joeri said as he helped Elder Thera down from her mount and handed her a waterskin. “We can’t all stay here, but most of the priests were in the canopy when she attacked.”
“We thought we had more time,” Elder Thera said, her voice sounding hoarse and husky from overuse.
“We all thought we had time,” Adam said. “How did she get there so fast?”
“Wings,” Duin said shortly.
“I meant the information.”
“So did I,” Duin said. “She’d have a way to talk with her patrols.”
“But they didn’t know where the city was.”
“Esmeralda did,” Duin said flatly. “And she doesn’t have the benefit of Selune’s blessing.”
“She has magic.”
“So does Khalivibra.”
“You’re right.” Adam sighed. “That brings me back to the part where we’re not safe here. If she sends out another scouting party for us….”
“She thinks you’re dead,” Duin pointed out. “Why would she come after us again?”
“If I was dead, wouldn’t Wyrmbane choose again?” Adam asked. He glanced around at them but received no answer. “What, you don’t know?”
“Until you arrived, we did not know if the Wyrmbane was real,” Thera said. “To the best of our knowledge, there have only been two who have ever wielded the blade—including yourself.”
“But it could?”
“It is possible.”
“Then she’ll be back,” Adam said. “Or be sending her minions after it.”
“How do you know that?” Duin asked.
“The same reason she came to Boolikstaad in the first place,” Adam said. “If there was one weapon in the entire world that could kill me, I’d want it destroyed, or at the very least, know where it was locked up. Preferably by me.”
“Then why didn’t she stay and take it off your corpse?” Thera asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe Wyrmbane would not choose again,” Thera said. “Did the princess not say she summoned you here? Summoned you as hero?”
“Yes,” Duin replied when Adam’s words failed him.
“Then the stone will not choose merely anyone. Khalivibra must know that.”
“Especially since the ritual Esmeralda used requires dragon scale as a reagent,” Duin said. “And her people have none left.”
“But we have dragon scale,” Adam said. “The tip of her tail is in the room I was staying in.”
“I will send someone to fetch it,” Joeri said, stepping aside to speak with a young guard.
“Even so, without the princess, our only hope is you, Sir Adam,” Thera said tiredly.
“Yeah, well, I sort of wish I wasn’t,” Adam said.
“I concur,” Thera said simply, her voice as carefully neutral as he’d ever heard. “Which is why I suggest we rest now and rescue her as soon as we are able.”
“We’ll set out tomorrow,” Adam said. “After next sleep, that is—you know what I mean.”
Elder Thera nodded. “I will have much to prepare.”
“You do?”
“If I am to travel longer than a sleep from here, yes. Hunter Bern said it would take us near eleven sleeps to reach Aer Goragon. I will find it hard to ensure we are hidden from the dragon’s mind for all of that time.”
“She’ll only find us if she looks,” Adam said. “Wait, you’re coming with us?” he added as the rest of his brain caught up with the discussion topic.
“Someone has to ensure you reach the city safely,” Thera said. “And I am not entrusting that task to anybody else.”
“With respect, Waur Thera, you belong with your people,” Duin said.
“And if I serve them best by accompanying Sir Adam to Aer Goragon, then that is what I must do. Also, I may be able to speed our journey somewhat.”
“You can?” Adam asked. “How?”
“I will speak with Elder Faas,” Thera said, turning away to climb down a rude ladder into the depths of the tree’s hollow. “Rest now, Sir Adam. You will need your strength next waking.”
BY THE time Duin had shown him to a corner of the tree where he could rest, Adam could feel his eyelids drooping, and as soon as he and Duin had removed the carapace plating from his armor, he was in bed, clothes and all. “How come none of you have armor like mine?” Adam asked around a yawn.
“It doesn’t fit properly if we go out into the light,” Duin said. “You’ve seen how I grow and change. The scouts have smaller overlapping rows of carapace—that’s the best we can do, but that is neither stealthy nor comfortable to be in.”
“And my armor?”
“Master Cobus was pleased to have a chance to apply his knowledge of Aergonite plate mail,” Duin said with a smile. “And working with moon spider carapace no less.”
“You say ‘moon spider’ as if it’s important.”
Duin stilled. “But it is. The moon spider is traditionally a creature sent by Selune to test her warriors.”
“Sent by? What, you mean she whispers around its arachnid ears and sends them off to attack people?”
“It makes as much sense as birds do,” Duin muttered.
Adam sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your faith. But it’s hard to give credence to something I don’t believe in.”
Adam felt Duin’s lips gently touch the back of his neck. “I don’t think that matters, Adam,” he said. “She might just believe in you.”
ADAM AWOKE to find things pretty much as they had been when he went to sleep. The carapace sections of his armor were piled in a heap at the side of his bedroll, and he was still sore from sleeping in his leathers, although not so stiff and sore as he thought he would have been after the injuries he had sustained from the dragon’s attack. Duin was curled up on a bedroll next to his own, and Adam absently reached out to stroke the mop of tangled brown hair that adorned the top of his head.
“You love him, do you not?” Joeri’s soft voice said, and Adam turned to find the hunter sitting cross-legged in the shadowed corner where the platform met the tree trunk.
“Yes,” he said. “Very much.”
“And he loves you.”
“I hope so,” Adam said.
“He does,” Joeri said. “That is plain for all to see.”
Adam sat up and glanced to where his sword lay between the bedrolls. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No,” Joeri said. “Take care of him, please.”
“As long as he’ll let me,” Adam said. “Besides, mostly he takes care of me.”
Joeri nodded and stood up, clearing his throat. “I’ll bring some food up, and then we should talk. Waur Thera and Waur Faas wish to speak to us below.”
As Joeri headed down the tree from the tiny platform they were sleeping on, Adam leaned over and kissed the back of Duin’s neck. “Hey, lover, wake up.”
“Mmm? Don’t wanna,” Duin mumbled, moving back as if to snuggle against Adam, and promptly slipped off the bedroll. It was only a few inches, but it was noisy as Duin fell against Adam’s sheathed broadsword and leapt away, cursing. “Shards, that thing is dangerous, Adam!”
“I’m sorry,” Adam said, snatching up the sword. “Did it burn you?”
“I don’t know—I don’t think so?” Duin said, turning his back and straining to peer over his shoulder. “What does it look like?” he asked.
“Fantastic?” Adam suggested, stepping close and dropping another kiss on Duin’s shoulder. “A little red is all. Does this hurt?” he asked, running his fingers lightly over the patch of reddened flesh.
“Not really,” Duin said. “I’ll live, I think. What’s going on?”
“Joeri’s bringing breakfast,” Adam said. “The elders want to talk to us.”
“Right, of course,” Duin said. “I suppose I should get dressed.”
“You don’t have to,” Adam said. “I like the view, although you look just as sexy in your harness.”
“When this is over,” Duin said, “you and I have a lot of time to make up.”
“I know,” Adam said, reaching for his boots. “Do you really think we’re going to make it?”
“We have to,” Duin said. “I don’t really see we have any choice now.”
Adam sighed. “No, I suppose we don’t.”
“How are you feeling now, anyway?” Duin asked, securing his harness with a whittled wooden buckle.
“A bit stiff,” Adam said. “But remarkably well, considering.”
“You should get Healer Marcel to give you a jar of that ointment,” Duin suggested as he came over to check Adam’s bandages. “We should change those.”
“I suppose,” Adam said, shrugging out of his jerkin.
When Duin unwrapped Adam’s bindings, they found the wounds and scrapes had all but healed, although the skin below was new and pink and the yellowish outline of where the bruises had been still visible.
“Can I go ahead and call it magic now?” Adam said as he stared at his right arm. “I don’t know what he did, but that is amazing.”
“I’ve never seen it work so well,” Duin said, brushing some dried salve off Adam’s arm. “Now will you admit that Selune is looking out for you?”
“Not without a clinical study into that salve, no. But look at that,” he remarked as Duin unwrapped the longer bandage from around his torso. “You’d almost think I hadn’t bled at all,” he remarked as he looked down at himself.
“Except for the dried blood on the bandages, yes,” Duin said. “And you know, my memories.”
“Duin, I’m fine, really.”
“I know,” Duin said. “This time. But what about next time? We’re going to head into her city, Adam. Surrounded by her people. What are we going to do?”
“Stick to the plan,” Adam said. “And hope that she does think I’m dead.”
“The plan required her to not be in the city,” Duin said.
“So we improvise,” Adam said. “You said it before; there’s no other way out of this.”
THEY WERE dressed by the time Joeri arrived with bowls of fruit, nuts, and coal-baked flitterfish.
