by Meg Cowley
“Erika,” Aedon said sharply, but she continued.
“It's selfish to walk away, to throw yourself on the mercy of a king who will kill you for treason and take your Dragonheart in a heartbeat. You will never see your home again if you follow that path."
"Erika," Aedon cut her off, then turned back to Harper. "You know we run on the wrong side of the law. I hope you've realised we're not the criminals you thought at first and that we have a critical task at hand. We need your help. We’d be honoured for you to continue with us. You might not yet have magic or be proficient at fighting, but you have other skills that are equally as valuable. Please, stay with us.” She opened her mouth, but he raised his hand. “At least consider it.”
Harper nodded.
The group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly, Harper did not want to laze around the fire. She rose and strode from camp.
"Don't stray far," Brand called after her.
She raised a hand in acknowledgment and kept walking.
What was worse? Erika's disdain? Brand's unfathomable silence? Ragnar's disappointment? Aedon's frustration? Harper did not know.
What should I do? Stay with them? With Aedon? She swallowed. She knew the real reason she wanted to stay with them – him – and it was foolish.
He doesn’t want you, you stupid girl, and you ought not desire a thief.
The alternative...pleading with the king to send her back to Caledan or to train her as a knight...seemed equally ridiculous. Her heart sank.
What should I do?
Thirty-Four
“What’s to be done with her?” Brand asked gruffly, folding his muscled arms over his chest.
“We ought to take the stone and be done with her and this damned charade,” said Erika with no shadow of hesitation.
“You know that’s not the right thing to do,” said Ragnar, giving her a baleful glare.
“Hasn’t stopped us before,” she snapped.
“We take from those who deserve it, or can afford it, to help those in more need. Harper does not fit that. Never have we taken from anyone who could not afford it.”
Erika scoffed at him.
“He’s right,” Aedon said, running a hand through his tousled hair. “We cannot take it.”
“Not even if she leaves?” Erika sprang to her feet, pointing after Harper. “That girl could walk away with the only way to cure those villagers – who knows how many more are infected by now – and you’d be happy to let that happen? Are you insane?”
“Erika,” Aedon snapped. “For once, it’s not so black and white.”
“You’re right. This is all kinds of jumbled shades of grey,” Brand complained.
“You like her, don’t you?” Erika fired at Aedon, eyes narrowing.
“That’s not it,” he replied steadily.
“Then what is it? You seem awfully familiar with her.”
“I do what I must to protect us.”
Erika scoffed. “Why are you so protective of her? She’s a stranger. She means nothing to us and is standing in our way. Life would be a lot bloody easier without her right now.”
Aedon winced. “Admittedly so. Look, I don’t know. I just feel like we need to help her.”
“Since when have you been so vaguely charitable?”
“Erika,” Brand’s voice rang with warning.
“No, I don’t care. We all know his past. Well, boohoo. We all have terrible shadows behind us. I’m not going to mince my words to spare his feelings about a girl who means nothing to us.”
Aedon swallowed. “You’re right, Erika. We all have darkness behind us, but that’s all the more reason to move forward into the light. It doesn’t sit well with me to take the stone from Harper. We should have been open with her from the start. But... I sense something in her, yet I’m not sure what.
“At first, I thought she could be dangerous, malevolent, but it’s clear she’s neither. In fact, she doesn’t have the first clue about the potential she contains, nor whatever connection she has to the Mark of Saradon.”
“What is it?” Ragnar asked.
“I still don’t know.” Aedon frowned. “For now, whoever she is, she needs our protection. She couldn’t survive here alone. At least with her close, so is the stone. Whatever her fate, her origins, her purpose, she runs with us...for now.”
“Harper is a good person,” said Ragnar, his glare daring Erika to argue with him. “We’ll make it right.” His attention turned to Aedon once more. “In the morning, once all this has blown over, we’ll come clean with her and ask for her help – for the stone.”
“She won’t say yes,” Erika said flatly. “She thinks the Dragonheart is her only way home.”
“If that’s the case, we’ll find a way to help her,” Ragnar said firmly.
Erika let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. “Good luck with that.”
HARPER RETURNED LONG after dark, guided back by the slowly dying fire. Her heart hammered in her chest, afraid of what she would find, but she need not have worried. The camp slumbered. With the silent grace of a practised hunter, she slipped into her bedding with hardly a rustle, turned over, and drifted off to sleep, her mind a whirring jumble of thoughts.
ERIKA WAITED UNTIL she was stiff with cold before she rose. With her own well-honed stealth, she padded across camp to the mound that was Harper huddled under her cloak and Aedon’s borrowed fur.
Harper had wrapped the cloak tightly about her to stop the stray night breeze from finding any crack into her cocoon. Slowly, and with tremendous patience, Erika managed to work enough free so she could reach in. She felt into the interior pocket of the cloak and grasped the small stone. It was faintly warm to the touch from Harper’s own body heat, a relief to Erika’s cold hands.
Suppressing a groan of relief, Erika stood. Her knee cracked at the movement.
Harper’s eyes flickered open, widening at the shadow looming over her. She shrieked and threw the cloak back, a knife already in her hand and swiping out at the shadow.
Thirty-Five
The rest of the camp roused to life at the noise, as Erika stumbled backwards to avoid the slicing blade. Then she lunged and grasped Harper’s wrist, squeezing until she dropped the knife. Harper howled in pain and clutched her arm.
Erika flung the knife away, which landed in the fire just as Ragnar threw on a fresh log to light up the situation. As Erika dodged the sparks, firelight illuminated her.
“What are you doing?” Harper growled, jumping to her feet. Her eyes were full of wariness, her voice suspicious. Neither made a move.
“What’s all the commotion?” Brand’s gaze flicked between them, as measured and calm as always.
“I have no idea. I woke to find her standing over me,” said Harper. “What were you doing? Wait...” Her gaze narrowed. “Why do you have that?” She strode forward and reached out to snatch the Dragonheart from Erika’s grasp.
Erika stepped back, holding it out of her reach.
“Give it to me, you thief!” Harper shouted.
Aedon stepped between them. “Calm down. What’s happening, Erika? Why do you have that?”
Erika saw the desperate gleam in his eyes, the unspoken plea begging her to tell him she didn’t take it. She hardened herself against his judgment and raised her chin.
“I took it.”
Aedon’s eyes flickered with sadness as the fire burned higher. “Why?”
“Because she has it and we need it. I’m done playing games.”
“Give it here,” Brand said. Glaring, Erika handed it to him. Brand held it out to Harper, who clutched it to her chest, scowling at Erika. “We decided that is not the way forward.”
“What’s happening?” Harper demanded. “Why do you want my stone?”
“The dragon’s out of the bag, Aedon. You may as well tell her,” said Brand.
He sighed. “Let’s sit down.” He waited until they had gathered around the fire. Harper and Erika were the last to sit, eyeing each o
ther with utter distrust. He could see how tense they both were, ready to jump to their feet should they need to.
“Harper, I’m sorry. We ought to have been more honest with you, but you must understand. You were a stranger, with a wild tale, who seemingly stumbled out of thin air in our hour of need. We did not know whether you were some dark being sent to trap us.”
Harper said nothing, her attention fixed on him. Aedon squirmed under her steel gaze. He cleared his throat.
“As you know, we are on a quest to cure the sickness of a village for whom no cure could be found. We journeyed to the living forest of Tir-na-Alathea to find a potion the wood elves were famed for making, aleilah. It is rare, and precious, but it can cure most anything.
“The price was beyond a king’s ransom and the elves would not barter with us, so we took it. You must understand. We never take from those who cannot afford it. The wood elves can always make more aleilah. They alone hold the recipe.”
“I understand your motives, though I still think stealing is wrong,” Harper said. “What does this have to do with me – and my Dragonheart?”
“Well, the potion alone won’t be enough to cure the village, as you have seen. There’s just not enough of it.”
Aedon slipped the vial from his breast pocket and held the tiny vessel between his forefinger and thumb. In the firelight, it looked even smaller than normal, the faintest twinkle of reflected light against the blackness engulfing them. Inside remained a single drop.
“There are a few substances that can be used to make potions more potent, make them last longer. The Heart of Dragons is one such substance. They are more precious than kingdoms, so rare are they, and the king keeps all that he can find locked away in his vaults.
“You can imagine our surprise, and our wonder, when you arrived in our midst at precisely the moment we needed a Dragonheart most. Yet you carried the Mark of Saradon, you spoke the Common Tongue with an accent none of us recognised, and you – forgive me – were the strangest woman we had ever laid eyes on. Who were you? How were we to know you were as innocent as you portrayed yourself to be?”
Harper rankled, straightening with indignation. Aedon held his hands up. “We know you now, of course. We know you to be who you say you are. But...” He smiled wryly, “you cannot blame us for having just as much suspicion of you as you had of us.”
“So what?” Harper asked, her voice quiet, yet cutting through the night and crackle of the fire. “What were you going to do? Take us all to the capital and steal the stone from me?”
“Of course not!” Aedon said. “To be truthful, we didn’t know what we were going to do. Only that we hoped we could figure something out before we arrived. We had decided to tell you the truth tomorrow and ask for your help, even though we know you have your heart set on the Dragonheart being your way home.”
Harper scoffed. “Of course you were going to tell me tomorrow. How convenient.” She leapt to her feet, blinking away the hot tears that had gathered.
“All along, all of this...” She gestured at them all, “this semblance of cameraderie, was nonsense, wasn’t it? You’ve been playing me for a fool, using me for your own ends, and I was stupid enough to fall for it! I should never have listened to any of you. You’re just a bunch of moralless villains!”
“It’s not like that. We promise you,” Aedon protested.
Ragnar leaned forward. “Please believe him, Harper. It’s true. I swear it.”
Harper turned to him, the one she had deemed most trustworthy. Ragnar’s shoulders slumped, mortification etched on his face.
“How can I believe it? It’s so clear now.” She shook her head. “You were going to take it from me one way or another, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Erika.
The group spun toward her, snarling.
“That’s not helpful, Erika,” Brand growled.
“Well, we were, by hook or crook, going to get that stone, weren’t we?”
“Not like that!” said Aedon, his voice a desperate, hoarse shout. “Not everything has to be so black and white.” He turned to Harper. “Harper, we would not steal it from you. We would only use it if you permitted us. There is always another way, though we do not know of one yet.”
Harper shook her head. Every time he said her name, with that twang of his lilting voice, it drove the knife deeper into her heart. “Empty words. Lies.”
She felt hollow as she scooped up her meagre belongings and stormed off into the night, having no idea where she went or how far. Her steps carried her from camp as fury and shame fuelled her onward. Once out of the circle of light and away from their presence, she allowed her hot, angry tears to spill forth.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” she cursed herself. “You knew they were thieves, yet you trusted them because they were kind to you. A full belly doesn’t make a friend. Damn it all!”
She had filled out noticeably since meeting the company, for she had been better fed than in years past, but now she wished she had refused it all. “Every mouthful of food, every kind word, every smile... It was just a way for them to get me to lower my guard a little further.”
When she could walk no farther, stumbling over the peat-filled hollows and heather, she sank onto a rock on the side of the hill as the purple of dawn bled into the sky on the horizon. She watched as the day slowly dawned, illuminating the sweeping moors.
With a sinking dread, Harper realized she had no idea where she was. Nor did she have any food or resources to help her survive, not even her knife, which had sailed into the fire.
I cannot go back. I won’t go back.
Wrapping her cloak around her, she stood and trudged to the top of the hill, a spark of relief lighting in her belly. Far in the distance was a city rising against the mountains.
Tournai.
Behind her lay the woodlands they had camped in, and before her lay miles of undulating moors and valleys hidden from view. The river swept through a vast plain, a ribbon of silver against the green.
There was nothing for it but to begin walking. Her stomach growled lightly to remind her it was, in fact, breakfast time. She could not help but think wistfully of Ragnar making eggs, meat, and whatever else they could forage or hunt, finished off with a fragrant, warming tea made from local plants. She shook her head, banishing the thought, picked a direction, and strode away.
Thirty-Six
It was not long before they caught up with her. She faintly heard her name shouted on the wind long before their steps were close enough to hear, but no matter how fast she strode, she could not distance herself from them.
Eventually, just beyond a ridge, and out of the cold breeze, she stopped and turned, waiting. Without a word, she stared them down, arms crossed, her stance wide and confident.
“What can I say to make this right?” Aedon asked. Ragnar huffed beside him, slightly out of breath. Brand held back, and Erika lurked behind them all, a brooding, unfriendly presence that Harper ignored.
“Nothing,” Harper said coldly, though her heart ached at his discomfort. Ragnar and Brand seemed regretful. “Nothing you say will make me trust you again.” Unconsciously, her hand clung to the inside of her cloak where the stone lay, as if seeking to reassure herself it was still there.
Aedon shook his head. “Where will you go?” he asked, gesturing to the wide vista around them.
“I’m going to Tournai to return the Dragonheart to the king in exchange for passage home.” She was still unsure what she would ask of the king, but Aedon did not need to know it.
“He won’t send you home, Harper.”
“What do you know? You’re liars and thieves.” Harper edged backwards, her eyes darting between them. Will they take it from me by force?
“I guess we deserve that. We’ll have to find another way.” Aedon glanced up hopefully. With one look at her stony gaze, his shoulders sagged.
“So be it. We won't be travelling with you anymore then. We have our own mission to fulfill," sa
id Erika. She moved off, as if unwilling to waste any more of her time.
Brand pursed his lips together. "Fair winds to you. Mayhap our paths will cross again."
A part of Harper wanted to thank him for her training. The previous morning, they had sparred again. He had shown her how to block attacks and find gaps in her opponent’s attack. For the first time, as clumsy as she remained, something had seemed to click. However, her stubbornness held her tongue.
Brand bowed his head at her silence and ambled after Erika.
She stood in silence with Aedon and Ragnar.
"I'll miss having you around the campfire, Harper," said Ragnar with a sad smile. "Goodbye."
I’ll miss it, too, she thought. She gave a jerky nod instead.
Aedon lingered. "Please don't go," he said in a quiet voice. His gaze burned with an intensity Harper did not understand. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.
"My mind’s made up.”
Aedon reached for her, but she stepped back. He let his hand drop.
"Very well." Aedon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He turned to see his companions already a distance away, but did not leave, seeming torn. "I can't stay with you, but I don't want to leave. You've barely seen how dangerous this land is, and you can hardly take care of yourself." He pushed a hand through his hair, which she had noticed he did when distressed.
"I can manage," she said stubbornly, even though she was quite sure she couldn’t. Without even a knife, she could not hunt to sustain herself.
“Look, Harper, this is your last chance. Please, don't go to Tornai,” he implored. "This will end in folly you cannot even begin to imagine. Plus, we need you. We need your healing hands, your skills of comfort, and everything else you have to offer, though you don't think it's much. We need you just as much as your Dragonheart."
"I have to go," Harper said. To Tournai, then home. Caledan feels like an ever-fading dream already. Betta needs me.
