“Damn it!” Hal dropped the pistol as a flash of flame exploded out of it. It didn’t shoot through the air. It didn’t strike the bear. If anything, the result of his “spell” was closer to having his pistol misfire terribly, rather than anything useful.
But it was enough to make the bear hesitate. It watched with surprising intelligence as Hal picked the pistol back up with his unburned hand and started to cock it again. Then, it turned and fled up along the trail the led to the mountains, toward the dragon’s roost. Hal and Laurel waited until it was out of sight before turning to look at each other.
“Was that a spell, Hal?” asked Laurel.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess it was.”
“And you’re sure you cast it on the sand bear, and not yourself?” she asked, in teasing voice.
Hal raised his hand to flick her on the shoulder, but winced, noticing the raw flesh and blisters he had unfortunately given himself.
“I have some burn salve inside,” said Laurel. “It comes in handy when you live next to a dragon.”
She treated his hand quickly, if not gently. Hal winced at the rough touch of her fingers, but Laurel insisted that the salve needed to be worked into his burn.
Afterward, the two of them set about fixing the roof of the homestead. The work wasn’t challenging, but it was monotonous. Laurel hummed the song Hal had heard her play on her flute as she waited on top of the roof for him to bring supplies back and forth.
It took most of the afternoon, and by the time the job was done, Hal felt ready to turn in early. Laurel had a wide smile on her face as she returned from putting the ladder away, and put an appreciative hand on his shoulder.
“Thanks, Hal,” she said. “Look! It’s better than new. Willum would be so proud, if he could see this.”
Silence. Hal never knew exactly what to say when Laurel brought up her brother. Was it because Hal suspected her brother to be dead, or at least indefinitely out of the picture? Or was it because of how natural it felt for him, and this girl who reminded him so much of his own little sister, to spend time together?
Those aren’t questions for me to force on myself, just yet.
“It looks amazing, Laurel,” he finally said.
She beamed a little at his praise, and then glanced toward the pond.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re long over do for a few minutes of cool relaxation!”
CHAPTER 18
The pond on the edge of the homestead was deeper than Hal had been expecting. Fed from a meltwater stream running from the mountains to the north, it was fifty feet across at the middle, and Hal could see at least that far down into the depths of the clear water at the pool’s center.
“There are lots of caverns around here,” said Laurel. “They all intersect and spiderweb with each other, and I’m pretty sure this pool actually drains out into one from an opening somewhere deep down. The water level fluctuates a bit throughout the year.”
“Interesting,” said Hal. He was considering whether it was something that could potentially be dangerous when Laurel sat on the edge of the bank and started wiggling out of her pants. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he coughed awkwardly as he turned to look away.
“What’s wrong?” asked Laurel.
“I’ll… head inside,” said Hal. “I can bathe once you’re finished.”
“That sounds like a great way for one of us to get mauled by a sand bear,” said Laurel.
It was hard for him to disagree with her logic, but something fundamental inside him refused to budge. Bathing with a woman he wasn’t intimate with was scandalous beyond reason, even if it was just Laurel. As plain as her figure might be, and as much as she reminded Hal of Lilith, she was still a woman.
“Lilith…” he said, shaking his head. Laurel stopped undressing and stared at him, her mouth open with surprise.
“What did you just call me?” she asked.
Hal froze.
“Sorry,” he said, his face heating up. “Slip of the tongue. Look, it’s fine. I’ll stay out here while you bathe, back turned, and then you can do the same for me.”
Laurel shrugged her shoulders, a hint of disappointment showing in her features.
“That works.” She reached down for the hem of her blouse. “You might want to turn around right about now, then.”
Hal felt his embarrassment deepen and was more than willing to oblige her. His ears still seemed eager to understand what was going on behind him, and he could hear the sounds of Laurel’s clothing crumpling to the ground, followed by a satisfied sigh and a gentle splash as she slipped into the water.
“It’s amazing,” she said. “Oh, bless Mystra all of the Five. It’s the perfect temperature.”
“I’m glad,” said Hal. “I think we deserve a break after our day.”
“Agreed.”
Laurel’s bathing time progressed without any unexpected incidents. Hal listened to her swimming, which she did with hardly a splash. She still hummed that song from before, and he made a mental note to ask her about it later on.
“I’m clean,” she said, after fifteen minutes. “Your turn.”
Hal waited until she’d climbed out of the pond and he’d heard clothing rustling before turning around. Laurel had brought a new set of clothes to dress in, though the remaining water on her skin made the garments cling tight to her modest curves in a few places.
Especially in those damnable pants. Why can’t dresses be in fashion here?
“Go ahead, Hal,” said Laurel. “I won’t peak, I promise. And I’ll get you a clean change of clothes from in the homestead.”
Hal raised an eyebrow.
“Some of Willum’s stuff,” explained Laurel. “He won’t mind. And he’s close to you in size.”
Hal nodded, though there was something awkward about agreeing to wear Laurel’s brother’s clothing. He used her trip back into the homestead as a chance to take off his own clothes. The once fine garments had definitely seen better days, and he wasn’t opposed to giving them up in favor of some that were a little less ragged.
He took off his gemstone last of all. He was surprised to see that it had returned to its original clear color. From what he’d surmised from talking to Laurel and Cadrian, a ruby, even emptied of its magical essence, should still have been translucent red in color.
Laurel returned, though Hal noticed that she didn’t take her promise not to peak all that seriously. She didn’t even turn her back from him completely, instead sitting so that Hal was mostly in the corner of her vision.
“Did you do much swimming back in your homeland?” she asked.
Hal scrubbed at his hair with a porous rock he’d found, working out a few gnarls that had manifested within his curls.
“A bit,” said Hal. “Enough to get the basic hang of it.”
“Swimming is a big deal here in Krestia’s Cradle,” said Laurel. “Meldence, the capital city, is on the shores of Lake Krestia. I’ve been swimming since I was a little girl.”
“Who taught you?” asked Hal. It was one of those questions that he immediately wished he could take back, as he feared it would lead her to think about her lost brother again.
“My father did,” said Laurel.
Hal didn’t want to pry too much, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to.
“He died a few years ago,” said Laurel. “I miss him, but it was complicated between us. He was a landless lord in Maxim Cedric’s court, and he never really had much of a tender touch for his children.”
Hal nodded slowly.
“It’s always complicated between fathers and their children, when prestige is involved,” he said, dryly.
Laurel didn’t answer him. Hal turned to look at her, expecting that he’d find her sneaking a peak at him. Instead, she was staring into the woods.
“What is it?” asked Hal.
Laurel stood up suddenly and pointed.
“I… I saw something!” she said. “Or… someone!”
&nbs
p; She took off running into the forest along the side of the northern mountains before Hal could tell her not to. He swore under his breath, cutting his swim short and pulling on the clothes she’d lent him.
“Laurel!” He sprinted after her, worried that she was going to put herself into danger. He saw the small opening in the trees she’d disappeared through, charged through it… and ran straight into her.
The two of them let out matching grunts of surprised and fell to the sloped ground in a tangled heap. Laurel was underneath him, and Hal ungracefully pushed off her to rise back to standing before helping her up.
“I lost them,” she said. “That… was so weird.”
“What did you see?” asked Hal.
Laurel shook her head. She hesitated for a moment, and then answered.
“A girl,” she said. “With… pointed ears.”
“…An elf?” asked Hal. “You saw an elf?”
He’d seen enough ancient artwork in Roth’s library to be able to guess that it was what Laurel was describing. Laurel frowned and gave a small, unsure shrug.
“I have no idea what I saw.” She pursed her lips, circles of color forming on her cheeks. “But it might have been spying on me when I was naked! And it was definitely spying on you…”
Hal wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He shook his head and glanced at the sun, which was close to setting over the western horizon.
“We’ll be careful tonight,” he said. “But just in case… let’s be ready for a nighttime visitor.”
CHAPTER 19
Hal helped Laurel with their nightly ritual of picking vegetables and fruits from her garden for dinner. The sand bear had devoured a few choice heads of lettuce, along with the tops of most of Laurel’s carrots, but there was still plenty left.
They headed inside. Laurel made the vegetables into a soup while Hal brought in firewood and prepped the hearth. He was a little tempted to try his spell again, but the burn on his hand was a painful reminder of what would happen if he didn’t cast it correctly.
Once the vegetable soup was ready, they warmed a few slices of bread in a pan over the fire and began to dig in. Laurel produced another bottle of homemade apple wine and poured them each a glass, much to Hal’s amazement.
“I would think you’d want to hold off from drinking again so soon,” said Hal.
She shrugged.
“It’s just habit for me,” she said. “There isn’t much else to do on the homestead at night.”
Hal wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he focused on his food. Laurel had added a few spices to the soup, and the flavor was above and beyond what he’d been expecting.
“Hal,” said Laurel. “How did you end up here?”
He almost choked on his swallow of soup. The question wasn’t one he’d been expecting her to ask, at least not then.
“The dragon,” he said. “You saw. It carried me here, and then dropped me for some reason.”
Not for some reason. It was at the dragon rider’s command.
“That’s not what I mean,” said Laurel. “I want to know the whole story. Earlier that night. Where were you, and what happened?”
Hal didn’t answer her. He wasn’t sure if he was able to, at least not without taking a few deep, calming breaths. He’d done everything he could to bury the memories of that horrible night. It was the only way he knew how to deal with such overwhelming grief.
“I’m sorry,” said Laurel. “I know, I’m prying. And I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to have to think about it. But I’m afraid that if I don’t ask you now… I might never ask you. And you’re so distant sometimes, I feel like you might never tell me on your own.”
“And is that a bad thing?” asked Hal, anger suddenly flooding his chest. “Am I under some obligation to explain the details of the worst day of my life to you?”
It was a petty thing to say, and he knew it. Laurel had saved him. Why lash out at her for being curious about what he’d been through?
Instead of responding with hasty words of her own, Laurel slid her chair around to the other side of the table. She reached out and took Hal’s hands, holding them comfortingly. Hal couldn’t meet her gaze, or even keep his eyes open. He was afraid if he tried to, the tears would be waiting, unmanning him in front of Laurel and ruining their night.
“If you truly don’t want to tell me, I understand,” said Laurel. “But it might help to unburden yourself onto someone else, you know.”
Hal exhaled through his nose. His mouth opened, and without really deciding to, he began speaking.
He told Laurel everything, starting with the argument he’d had with his father. Such a stupid argument, with so many foolish things said by each of them, all over Hal’s petty frustration at having to live a privileged life.
He continued on, explaining how Lilith had found him reading under the tree, and conveniently leaving out mention of the salaciousness of what he’d been reading. As soon as Hal began talking about Lilith, he realized how right Laurel was about the value in talking through his grief with someone else.
He shared stories of Lilith unrelated to that night, the times they’d played the hiding game in Roth’s library, their walks along the waterfalls east of the family’s estate and jumping off the cliffs into the lake below. He even told her about Lilith’s girlish infatuation for Mauve, and how their father hoped for the two of them to be a match one day.
Hal spoke of Mauve next, sharing more stories of his best friend, his brother, essentially. He talked about their pointless rivalries, and learning the Kye Lornis together. It spilled out of him endlessly, and Laurel listened with open ears, reacting with laughs and soothing words, when appropriate.
When Hal finally finished meandering and got to the part of the story he’d meant to tell, his voice left him. He made it up to when the dragon first landed, and when the crowd formed around the windows, and then the weight of what he was remembering caught up with him.
“It’s okay,” said Laurel. “That’s enough.”
Hal couldn’t put on a strong face for her. Even with his eyes closed, his head sagged with despair. He’d lost so much on that night. And it wasn’t just losing the people he’d loved. He’d never patched things up with his father after the argument. That single fact made him feel ashamed, both for having said such mean things to the man, and for letting Lilith down after promising to mend the bridge between them.
“Hal…” Laurel slid her chair in even closer to his. “I’m so sorry…”
She pulled him into a hug. Hal barely managed to keep his composure as her arms wrapped around him.
“It’s still fresh,” said Hal. “The pain. The fear…”
The image of the dragon’s angry form towering over him pushed its way into his head. He felt the claws again, locking around his chest, squeezing him like a human might test a grape’s ripeness.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” said Laurel. “I’m scared, too.”
“Of the dragon?” asked Hal.
Laurel sighed, and slowly shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Well, I am afraid of it. But that’s not my deepest fear.”
Hal paused a moment before asking “Then what is?”
Laurel smiled at him, and Hal saw grief comparable to his own in her forced, pained expression.
“Being alone.” She let out a sad chuckle. “It scares me half to death. Every night I spend alone under this roof. Makes me think that… I’ll always be alone.”
Hal leaned into her a little more and hugged her back. The two of them stayed like that for a long while, holding each other in silence.
CHAPTER 20
Eventually, Laurel’s eyes began to droop, and Hal realized he was equally exhausted. It was an awkward goodnight, with each retreating a bit from the closeness they’d shared earlier. But still, Hal could tell that they’d both found something in each other, a kind of wounded companionship of battered souls.
He slept more soundly than he’d exp
ected and woke up late the next morning. He was surprised to hear the sound of voices coming from the homestead’s sitting room. After pulling on his clothes and donning his boots, he opened the door to investigate.
Laurel and Cadrian were seated across from each other at the table. Surprisingly, Laurel was wearing one of her few dresses, a loose, blue one that left only her forearms exposed. Cadrian had on a grey tunic with tight, black leggings underneath, her hair twisted into another incredibly intricate braid.
“There’s no reason you can’t teach him here, near the homestead,” said Laurel. “The slopes aren’t safe, Cadrian. I know better than anyone.”
“Laurel,” said Cadrian, in her calm, quiet voice. “I respect your knowledge of your land, and appreciate your willingness to allow me on it as a guest. But this is as it must be.”
“Why?” Laurel frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand. There’s plenty of space out on the grass. I won’t get in your way, I promise!”
Cadrian didn’t answer, but she politely held Laurel’s gaze, refusing to back down. Hal cleared his throat as he entered the room.
“I take it that means you’ve decided to teach me?” he asked.
Cadrian slowly turned her head, favoring him with a look of consideration.
“I will take you as a junior apprentice,” she said. “Your instruction will be slow, perhaps slower than what you’re looking for. But it is all that I have the time to offer.”
Hal nodded.
“Good enough,” he said. “When do we start?”
Laurel let out a frustrated sigh.
“She wants to bring you onto the mountain’s slope, Hal,” she said. “I tried to tell her that it isn’t a good idea. The dragon is incredibly territorial, more so the closer you get to its roost.”
Hal shrugged, not really wanting to involve himself in their argument. He walked over to the table and picked a large, desert apple from the bowl Laurel had set out for breakfast.
“Please, Lady Laurel,” said Cadrian. “Trust that I know what I’m doing.”
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