by GARY DARBY
I nod and in the darkness, we pass each other, only this time, instead of moving away, Helmar stops after just a few steps.
Turning, I meet his sharp stare. “You’re really not good enough for Cara, you know,” he growls, “even with your magical gems.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, keeping my tongue still and letting my eyes focus on the dark mountainside across the way.
“You may be the Gem Guardian,” he spits out, his voice level, but his face a dark, angry shadow, “but you’re still only Hooper. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Turning to face the big man, I’m stiff, rigid. My head barely reaches Helmar’s shoulders and just one of his arms is bigger around than both of mine put together.
His chin is chiseled, firm, and his eyes flash, not in hatred, but in hurt and anger. Phigby’s words come to me, don’t let that tough, gruff exterior of his fool you. He feels deeply, at times.
Well, I think, in answer, he’s feeling it pretty deep right now.
“Helmar,” I stress, “this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation.”
“We’re alone,” he growls. “no one can hear, so I think it’s the right time. You can’t honestly believe that Cara Dracon would seriously entertain notions of being with someone like you, do you?”
He laughs, only there’s no mirth in his laughter and his grin is more of a mocking leer than a sincere smile. “It’s the gems, you know. She’s only paying attention to you because of them.”
“That’s not true!” I snap.
“Isn’t it?” he counters. “Think about it, Hooper. Without the gems, what could you possibly offer a girl like Cara who’s known only the best?”
One corner of his mouth lifts even further. “In home, lifestyle, and in men?”
He leans forward a little, his eyes mocking me. “None of which applies to you, does it?”
My hand snaps to the hilt of Galondraig. He steps back and his hand goes to his sword’s handle.
“Stop it!” Cara’s voice is sharp, commanding.
Stepping between us, she’s like a mountain cat, eyes flashing and snarling. “What’s gotten into you two? Are you crazy? Fighting each other at a time like this.”
She whirls on me. “And Hooper, you of all people should know better. After all, you’re the—”
“Gem Guardian?” I declare.
That she’s turned on me instead of Helmar hurts. Especially, after what he said about Cara only caring for me because of the gemstones.
It’s evident to me that Helmar was right. Whatever attention she was paying to me was because of the gems, not because of who I am without the crystals.
“Yes,” she sputters. “Of course.”
“Uh, huh,” I spit. “So Helmar was right, wasn’t he? You were only being friendly because I carry the gems now and not he, right?”
Cara jerks her head back and her mouth sags open in shock. “No,” she stammers, “of course not, Hooper.”
“Oh, really?” I snarl. “Let’s see now, when Helmar carried the gems you fawned all over him and when it turned out he wasn’t the guardian, you practically spit in my eye, didn’t you?”
“No . . .” she whispers before I interrupt and demand, “No? Think back, Cara, to that camp by the mountains after we escaped from Dunadain Keep. How did you feel about me then? Happy, elated that I was the guardian and not Helmar?”
My laugh is bitter. “Hardly. As I recall, you couldn’t stand to even look at me. The fact is, you turned your back on me, didn’t you? Walked away with Helmar, left me standing there trying to understand what I’d done wrong.”
Stepping close, I thrust my face close to hers. “No, the truth, Cara, is that you’re still that little girl dreaming of being a highborn lady and the gems are your way of getting there. And if that means that you have to pretend to be affectionate or care about someone like me, then that’s just what you’ll do!”
I start to walk away, but stop and turn to her. All the pent-up feelings, the doubts, I have about me and this girl come rushing up, flooding my insides, my mind.
They roar through me like a cold north wind rushes through a fall forest stripping away the leaves until all that’s left is a skeleton of a tree, without form or beauty.
That’s me, without form or beauty.
“I just realized,” I snap at her, “what I did wrong. I cared about a beautiful, wonderful girl more than anything else in this world. Only, what she cared about was some stupid magical crystals that could make her all high and mighty. Maybe even powerful enough to replace Vay herself!”
Cara’s mouth is gaping open, her eyes as round and big as Osa. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stands there rigid, unmoving.
I glance up at Helmar. He, on the other hand, has a pleased expression on his face and his eyes are alight with humor.
The eyes and face of the victor looking down on the vanquished.
Pushing past Cara, I snarl to her, “You’ve got the watch, I’ve done my share.”
As I pass by Helmar, I can’t help myself and jab at him with my elbow. Childish? I know. But better the blunt end of an elbow than the sharp point of a sword.
I don’t stop but keep stalking away and over my shoulder, I hear Cara’s angry voice, “Don’t you dare, Helmar Stoudtman. So help me, you touch him and I’ll put an arrow in you myself.”
I’m not sure where I’m going other than to be alone and away from those two. I walk up the trail until I find a small cutout that leads up a wide, dark ravine.
Finding a large, flat rock, I sit and hang my head. Running my hands through my hair, my thoughts are hot, hurtful as if someone is pouring scalding water into my head.
What just happened back there? I wonder over and over.
Helmar goaded you, for sure, and you took the bait. Like a lake trout rising to snap at a big fly, I reply to myself.
But why did you say those awful things to Cara? Because I’m terrible, that’s why. As horrible as they come. Why, I’d give Vay a run for her money in being the most horrid person ever.
Were they true? What you said about her? Of course not! So, why did you lash out like that? I don’t know, I really don’t.
Does she actually care more about the gems than anything else? No. She wanted to burn the dragon-tear ode book, remember? She doesn’t want another gemstone to come forth if it means the death of another dragon.
Is that really who Cara is? Someone who loves things over people and especially those closest to her? No, idiot. Cara is a caring, loving person. Look at how she cried over Daron, her brother, and he wasn’t lovable at all but she loved him.
Last night, on Golden Wind, was she just pretending when she sat so close?
Please, please, no, let that, at least be real. Because after tonight, after what you’ve done, that may be the only time you’ll ever experience anything like that blessed moment for the rest of your life.
Or was she showing her true feelings for you? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? Not after what you’ve just said and done.
It’s finished before it even got started and there’s no hope it’ll ever be the same again.
I groan deeply, and bend over, my insides feeling as if Vay’s claws had reached deep within and were twisting, ripping, shredding me to pieces.
The sound of soft footfalls causes me to spring upright with my hand on Galondraig. I half-expected to see Golden Wind; instead, from the darkness, Phigby steps out.
“Easy, lad,” he rumbles low, “’tis just me.”
I shake my head at him. “Thanks, Phigby, but I’m in no mood for company right now.”
“Then,” he replies, “I’ll just stand over here, not speaking, and be your eyes and ears for you.”
Waving a hand, he points out, “It gets pretty dark in these parts and if you don’t have your wits about you, something nasty could just curl up next to you, you know.”
“Like a Nahl?” I return.
&nb
sp; He shrugs in response. “Among other things. Now, you take what time you need and I’ll be just over here. And, when you’re ready to return, I’ll walk back with you.”
My retort is sharp, quick. “Suit yourself but if you think that just because you’re all of five paces away that I’m in the mood to talk, well, you’re wrong. So, don’t go thinking that’s what I’m going to do. Because it’s not. Last thing I want to do right now is talk.”
“Humph,” he mutters. “Seems to me that for a fellow who doesn’t want to talk your lips sure are moving a lot.”
I turn my back to him and stare upward at the stars. Puffy, dark clouds stream across the sky, cutting off the starlight making the little vale even darker than before.
Dark like my heart, my spirit, my mind, my thoughts.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Phigby pacing a few steps one way before he turns and paces off a few the other way. His lips are pursed as if he’s whistling but no notes come from his mouth.
He turns his head my way and I snap my head the other way to peer up the vale to the high mountain peak. It’s cold here but no doubt it’s freezing up there, like being buried under a mountain of ice, cold.
Or, worse, how cold Cara is going to be to me when I next see her. No doubt, with one look she’ll turn me into solid ice if I get within twenty paces.
After a bit, I say over my shoulder, “You heard what went on?”
“Most of it, yes,” he replies, “wasn’t like you three were exactly keeping your voices down, you know.”
I draw in a deep breath. “Made a real mess of things, didn’t I?”
Sighing, he answers, “I would suggest that a ‘real mess’ would be an understatement at this point, Hooper. From what I heard and saw, it would be like calling that big boy of a mountain up there a gentle slope.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad, yes.”
I go quiet, staring upward, trying to make sense of it all as if there were any sense to my actions.
After a bit, I ask, “Phigby?”
“Yes?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Wrong?” he grunts. “Why, nothing, other than you’re still hurting from your injuries.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Why . . . Why would I go and say such awful, awful things to Cara? She didn’t deserve that.”
My puff of air lifts my bangs. “Helmar maybe, but not Cara. Definitely not Cara.”
He shuffles over until he’s beside me. Gesturing at the rock I’m sitting on, he asks, “May I?”
Scooting over just a bit, I nod. Pullings his robe about him, Phigby sits but doesn’t speak. After a bit, he clears his throat. “You care for Cara a great deal, don’t you, Hooper?”
“Care for?” I respond. “That’s like describing Golden Wind as a dull, ordinary dragon.”
I suck in a breath. “And that’s what I don’t understand, how could I—”
“Hurt someone that you care so much about and for?”
“Yes . . .” I whisper.
Phigby tugs at his beard for a long time before he says, “Perhaps it’s because you care so much that when you think that they’ve hurt you as deeply, you lash out. It’s sort of like you’re putting on emotional armor to protect the innermost, the most tender, and most vulnerable feelings that you possess.”
He stops and then adds, “And you’re afraid.”
“Afraid?” I retort. “Afraid of Cara? I don’t think so. Vay? Yes, but not Cara.”
“It’s a different kind of fear, Hooper,” he explains. “With Vay, your fear is based on what she can do to you physically—”
“Yeah,” I reply, “like how she can conjure up things that can rip off legs and heads.”
“Quite so,” he agrees. “But with Cara, your fear is that she’s not going to like, or care for you as much as you care about her. Two different kinds of distress, but two very real fears.”
He leans over and puts a palm to my chest. “That she won’t be fond of Hooper for what he’s like inside here, and not,” he taps on my tunic where the gems sit, “for what he carries there.”
Straightening, he says, “And when Helmar hit that very vulnerable and tender spot of yours with his verbal arrows, you—”
“Threw on my emotional armor to protect myself,” I finish for him.
“Indeed,” he responds.
“But why did I lash out at her, and not Helmar?” I question. “He’s the one who deserved the tongue-lashing, not Cara.”
Phigby glances up at the clouds that go scudding by overhead for a few moments before he offers, “Because you were expecting the one that you cared for so deeply to defend you, and when she—”
“Didn’t,” I sigh, “I assumed that she was sticking up for Helmar.”
“Yes,” Phigby responds, “you thought she was siding with your romantic rival, as it were.”
“But,” I sputter, “wasn’t she?”
“No.”
“No?”
Phigby shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, Hooper. She turned to you first because she not only cares for you, but she highly respects you. In fact, I would venture to say, that in the beginning of your dispute, she viewed Helmar as being the childish boy and you were the man. And when you didn’t rise to the level of the man that she respected, she—”
“Said, ‘Hooper, you of all people should know better,’” I repeat through a clenched jaw.
“I believe so,” Phigby replies.
Hanging my head down, I run my hands over my face. “Seems there’s always two sides to every story, aren’t there?”
“Two?” he snorts. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about people, Hooper, is that there are many, many, sides to any story. I’m just giving you a possible side as I see it.”
I lean over, sick at my stomach and feeling that my world just ended tonight. “What do I do, Phigby? I can’t go back and face her.”
“You’re right,” he replies, “the boy in you can’t go back and face her. But the man in you must. Cara may have once thought of you as boy, Hooper, but I assure you, she doesn’t anymore. However, I also assure you that if you don’t go back, her opinion of you may revert to the former. Is that what you want?”
Shaking my head, I murmur, “No . . . No, that’s not what I want. But what do I say, Phigby? How can I make this right? There’s no way I can take back what I said.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “You can’t take back your words. Once spoken in anger, our utterances are like the surf on a beach. Hurtful, angry words are the waves that rage, pound, and crash upon the sand, washing out to sea only to return with their furious hammering.
“But, when we face up to our errors, and never repeat them, those raging words and feelings die down and like the waves, after a time, become calm, gentle, upon the sands.”
Considering his words for a bit, I mutter, “Yes, and right now, my words are like those pounding waves. From now on, every time Cara looks at me, she’ll hear those horrible words and feel like I’m hammering at her again.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, Hooper. Not if Cara Dracon is becoming the woman that I think she is, and of most importance, if she cares about you as I honestly believe she does. You see, people who care about us, well, yes, the words at first are like those crashing waves, hurtful, but over time, they let those words wash back out to sea and the waves become a gentle ebb and flow.
“But you can help calm those waves by facing her and explaining in your usual fumble-worded manner how much you were wrong and what a big lout, oaf, fool, not to mention—”
“I get it, Phigby.”
Blowing out a long breath, my shoulders slump as I realize what I must do. “So, I’ve got to go back and face her.”
“Of course,” he snorts, “there’s no other way to make this right again.”
“And Helmar?”
He frowns a little in response. “Some might say tha
t what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. But, in this case, I’ll let you sort that out with him.
“However, my primary worry is for Cara. You hurt her deeply, Hooper, and yes, she may have hurt you at one time, but I think she’s been trying to tell you, and show you, how wrong she was, since then.
“Only, you either never saw it, or accepted what she was trying to offer.”
He rises, turns, and stares down at me and his voice is firm. “Whether Cara chooses you or Helmar is not for me to say. She is fond of both of you, though I admit that lately circumstances have thrown the two of you together much more than her and Helmar.
“My concern is with this company. It has to stay together and we cannot let petty jealousies split us apart. There is more at stake here, Hooper, than two swooning young men fighting over the only eligible girl in camp.”
His eyes and his voice become like stone. “Do I actually have to remind you, Hooper, that Vay would like nothing better than to see our company fall apart, leaving Golden Wind at the mercy of that foul fiend?”
I cringe under his words because I know he’s right. “No, Phigby,” I whisper, “you don’t have to remind me.”
“Good,” he grunts. “Now go back there and do what you must with that girl.”
I nod at him. “Give me a moment, will you? There are a few cracks in my emotional armor that I’ve got to mend shut first. Not to mention decide what I’m going to say that doesn’t get me punched in the nose.”
He glances around as if thinking that he should stay as my guard but I wave a hand at him, urging him to leave. “I’ll be fine and practically right behind you. Go.”
Giving my shoulder a couple of firm pats, he strides away, the rustling of his robes breaking the night’s stillness.
I sit for a bit, deep in my thoughts, before rising and sighing to myself. “Well, Hooper, methinks you’d rather face Vay’s water-serpent monster than Cara at this point but Phigby’s right, it’s got to be done.”
Hitching at my scabbard belt, I start to turn when there’s a raspy slithering sound that rises from the vale’s dark depths.
