by Jensine Odom
“Ah! No touchy!”
“Ha ha,” Tristin yells triumphantly, and goes for the marshmallows now that my hands are preoccupied.
Letting Zebulon go, I turn my back against Tristin and curl myself around the bag of treats like an armadillo. Zebulon pokes at my ribs, trying to tickle me into submission while Tristin tries to unfurl me with brute strength. Mary appears now, gesturing for me to hand the bag off to her, and I drop the marshmallows.
Mary catches them before they hit the ground and runs off into the dark, reappearing a moment later sans marshmallows and smiling impishly. In retaliation for this deception, Zebulon and Tristin ruthlessly tickle me until I’m laughing so hard my muscles give out, then leave me on the ground as they race off to find the marshmallows.
“Where’d you hide them?” I ask Mary, getting back to my feet.
“Here,” she replies with a laugh, and pulls the bag out of her shirt, handing it back to me.
“Let me take the treats,” Baldure offers humorously. “I will hide them.”
I narrow my eyes at him for a moment, then decide I can trust him and hand the marshmallows over. He turns and walks nonchalantly out into the dark just as the boys get back.
“Where’s he going?” Tristin asks suspiciously.
“To take a leak,” Mary answers flippantly.
Tristin glares at the two of us for a moment. “Why do I not believe you?”
I shrug, not trusting myself to keep my poker face if I speak, and Mary just grins.
“Alright! What’d you do with them?!” Zebulon demands.
Baldure reappears, limping slightly as he makes his way back to the fire, and gives me a simple look that says the deed is done.
“You’ll never know, but they’ll reappear when the time’s right,” I answer cryptically, and Zebulon pouts. “I’m hungry. Anyone else hungry?” I change the subject. “Where did my backpack end up?”
“In your tent,” Mary answers, looking between Caedryn and me. “We didn’t know what was going on, so we put it up just in case.”
I smile my thanks and head for the tent. Just inside sits my bow and quiver, as well as my backpack and Caedryn’s. Opening mine to retrieve the deer jerky, I find the marshmallows sitting on top. With a smile, I tuck them farther down.
“Whatchya doin’?” Zebulon asks, suddenly appearing behind me.
I scream and jump, facing him, then laugh. “Getting food, you little shit,” I grit out between clenched teeth as I playfully punch him.
Zebulon laughs, taking my hits, and runs back to the fire, zig zagging in case I throw something at him. I close my bag, then rejoin everyone myself, surprised to find Baldure sitting with Caedryn. Sure, they’re on opposite ends of the log, but it’s still the same log.
Sitting between them, I pass out the jerky and we eat quietly, each person being pulled into their own thoughts. After a few moments, Caedryn moves beside me, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me against him.
Can you heal Baldure’s old wounds? He asks, surprising me.
I don’t know. Why?
He gave me his weakness. I want to give it back. Both uncertainty and assuredness come with this confession, and for a moment I don’t know what to say.
I’ll try, I finally manage. Do you want him to know it was your idea?
No. It was your idea first. I knew you would want to heal him, if you could, and would wait until I was more at ease before you tried.
You’re not okay with him yet. Not completely, anyways.
No, but you are. Just like that, Caedryn lays all his trust at my feet.
What I feel with this is more than words can express, so I thank him by opening myself entirely, letting every emotion flow across our bond and through my mind. Caedryn wraps both arms around me, hugging me tight and returning the favor.
Heal him, if you can. He kisses my temple and lets me go.
Baldure’s silently gazing into the fire, his eyes distant with thought, or memory. I sit up straighter, and he meets my gaze almost like he could feel me looking at him.
“Let me see your leg,” I say without preamble, surprising him.
With some apprehension, he complies, pulling back his pantleg to reveal a thick white scar that runs diagonally across the length of his massive thigh, starting near his hip and ending just above the knee.
I scoot closer, hovering a hand over his leg. “May I?” I ask vaguely, not wanting to give away what I’m going to do.
Baldure simply nods, his leg tensing as I lay my palm against his warm, golden skin and begin to trace the knotted scar. For some reason, I feel like it’s my fault, and an unbidden memory crosses my mind; Alivia, supporting her behemoth brother as he bleeds out, the two of them retreating from a blazing golden woman who looks like Allowyn. Shame suddenly stabs my heart, and the memory fades.
I press on, not wanting Baldure to follow through on his thoughts of running, and concentrate on making his leg whole again. At first nothing happens, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to heal him, then my hand begins to tingle and the scar glows white, like sunlight streaking through a crack.
The magic pulls hard on me, and I quickly kick off my shoes, laying my bare feet on the ground to draw extra power from the earth. Energy surges through me, and a dull ache stretches across my own thigh as the scar shrinks to nothing on Baldure’s.
Without skipping a beat, I move my hand to his face. Uncertainty and fear flare in Baldure as his eye begins to glow. I briefly lose vision on my left side, and when I can see again, Baldure’s looking at me with two disbelieving, emerald green eyes, their centers filled with gold.
Blinking slowly, he glances around the camp, then leaps to his feet and runs off into the darkness. Heavy footsteps return, and Baldure slides to a stop beside me, lifting me effortlessly into an exuberant bear hug.
“Sassy can’t breathe,” I squeak, and Baldure loosens his grip, setting me on my feet with a laugh.
“Why?” he asks, bewildered.
“I need my Champion to be at his best.” I can’t help the smile that creeps across my lips.
Baldure’s eyes glisten with unshed tears and he drops to his knee, bowing his head. “I will try to be worthy of that title,” he vows whole-heartedly.
“I have no doubt.” I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Now get up. You’re going to give me a complex if you keep kneeling.”
Baldure beams at me and leaps to his feet, the ground around us rattling slightly with his weight, and he hugs me again, this time a little less tightly.
“Thank you, Xerxia.”
“You’re welcome, Big Man.” I hug him back, a little overwhelmed by the happiness pouring out of him.
“I wish Alivia could see this,” he says softly, stepping back.
“She will,” I assure him, knowing he means more than just this moment.
Baldure nods, smiling half-heartedly; he’s not sure his sister will see things the same way. Before I can ask what it is he and Alivia had against me, or the Honorbound, the sky opens up and releases its burden.
The fire hisses as the rain drenches it, and Tristin screams dramatically. Running out just beyond the tents, he shifts and gloomily curls up in the grass, followed by Turhion and Kerric. Baldure catches the idea and shifts, flying to the top of the rocky hill.
Zebulon and Mary make a break for their tent, and I grab Caedryn’s hand, laughing as we run for mine. He hesitates at the door, glancing at the field beyond.
“There are plenty of dragons out there to keep us safe,” I assure, leading him inside and pulling him into a firm kiss. “I think you can spend at least one night with me.”
The Journey Continues
OUR tent fills with the dark blue light of predawn, and the thick olive-green canvas ripples in the slight mountain breeze. Caedryn’s snoring softly beside me, his beautifully naked body sprawled across the blankets and a soft smile on his lips. A new length of shimmering scales stretches across his chest, marking where I had healed him the
night before, and I trace the lines with my eyes.
Try as I might, I can’t convince my mind to go back to sleep. Resisting the urge to taste Caedryn’s smile for fear of waking him, I quietly dress and grab my bow, fishing out the meteorite blades and parachute chord from my bag before slipping outside into the solitude of a sleeping camp.
The smell of wet mountains fills the cool, early morning air, and the dirt is damp beneath my feet as I make my way to the logs around the doused campfire. My boots sit where I left them, unfortunately filled with water. With an annoyed chuff, I dump them out, setting them on the log beside me. Hopefully they’ll dry some before we have to leave.
Using the small rasp on my Swiss Army knife, I score along the ends of my bow, then slide the curved daggers onto each side, weaving and knotting parachute chord to secure them. Once I’m sure they’re nice and tight, I head out to test my newly remade weapon.
Everyone else is still asleep, the slightly glowing forms of Tristin, Turhion, Kerric, and even Baldure dotting the meadow. If it weren’t for the slight movement of their breathing, one would think they’re giant, radioactive, glittery rocks.
Making sure I don’t wake any of them, I aim for a dead tree at the far edge of the clearing, scaring a momma bear and her two cubs who were drinking from the spring, now overflowing thanks to last night’s rains.
They disappear into the foggy forest and I wait a moment to give them a little more space, then start practicing, taking a few experimental slashes and stabs at the tree. The blades hold up beautifully, and I launch into a full out practice session, going back through the motions to reawaken the muscle memory of fighting with a bladed bow.
Splinters fly as I kick it into high gear to test my stamina, my new preternatural speed helping me to dodge the chunks of wood coming for my face. I hit the tree with one side of my bow, then the other, spinning around to fire a pretend arrow at one enemy. The bowstring slaps my forearm, but I ignore the stinging, thrusting my bow back to stab the tree behind me.
Leaping forward to evade my made-up foe, I spin back around and stab low, fire two more fake arrows, this time remembering to keep my arm back, then rush closer, throwing a few kicks and elbows in. I dodge away from an invisible attack, jump back in with a swipe, and spin once more, letting the bow slide through my hands. Gripping it once more, I pull it across my body and move low, striking the tree with a powerful upwards backhand swing. The dead wood snaps, the loud crack reverberating through the quiet forest, and the top half sails off into the trees, scattering a few aggravated birds into the air.
“Oops.” I laugh to myself.
“That’s an interesting weapon you have created,” Baldure’s voice sounds from behind me, and I jump with surprise, futilely juggling my bow before it drops to the ground. “You fight well with it,” he compliments, a humorous note in his voice as he bends down to retrieve my weapon.
“Thanks,” I reply sheepishly, an embarrassed blush warming my cheeks as I take my bow back and absently run a hand over the curve of one blade.
Baldure just smiles and nods, then walks off into the woods on his own agenda. I watch as he disappears behind a thick stand of trees, then wonder if I should have warned him about the bears. Hopefully they’re far away by now, searching for a place to rest.
Looking one last time at the tree I inadvertently decapitated and laughing again, I head back to my tent, stopping to get a quick drink of the fresh spring water. Tristin and Kerric are still asleep, but Turhion’s just pretending. I saw his eye snap shut as I walked by, and his breathing is shallow, not deep like that of sleep.
Caedryn’s standing outside our tent, fully dressed now, and smiles as I approach. “What did Baldure say to you?” he asks, sounding both jealous and curious.
“He complimented me on my weapon and how well I fight with it.” I lift one shoulder dismissively, setting my bow against the thick cotton canvas.
Shock ripples across our bond, and a little shame. “He’s not wrong,” Caedryn admits, surprising me. “It is a unique weapon, and your technique with it is good.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling and wrapping my arms around his hips.
Caedryn softly caresses my face, a twinge of sadness in his eyes and resignation in his heart.
“What is it?” I ask, a little confused at this sudden turn.
“He will grow to love you, if he doesn’t already.” Caedryn gives me a bittersweet smile. “You’re very easy to love. I would understand if you wished to, explore, more than what you have.” He drops his gaze and steps back.
I take a moment and a breath, sorting through the jumble of emotions Caedryn’s flooding me with. He’s ashamed of being suspicious instead of supportive, and afraid I’ll find a better mate in Baldure, but there’s also hope.
“You’re right,” I begin softly, stepping closer to him. “Baldure will love me, but only like a brother loves his sister. Never how you love me.” I tentatively lay a hand over his heart, feeling it beat faster at my touch, and his shimmering silver eyes meet mine. “I love you, Caedryn. You’ll have my heart like no other, forever. Which is a long time, since we’re practically immortal.” I can’t help the humorous giggle that escapes me.
Caedryn folds me in his arms, kissing me thoroughly. “I love you, Xerxia.”
Smiling happily, I lean into him and lay my head on his chest, warm and content in his arms as the sunrise bathes the world is soft peach light. A thin figure appears in the fog at the edge of the trees, and Mary stumbles into the clearing a moment later, looking a bit out of sorts. Her hair’s disheveled and her clothes are dirt smeared.
“Mary?” I call to her, concerned, and leave Caedryn’s arms.
She groggily looks in the direction of her name, and I tentatively touch her shoulder.
“I found her wandering the forest,” Baldure explains, coming out of the trees behind Mary, carrying something in his arm.
Mary’s eyes finally focus, and she squints at the sunlight peeking through the trees. “I didn’t sleep well at all last night and went out at some time to go to the bathroom, but got turned around. I don’t know how long I’ve been wandering, hoping I’d stumble on the camp, but thankfully Baldure found me.” She nods to him and yawns, then walks back to her tent, brushing past Zebulon as she disappears inside.
Zebulon gives me a confused look, and I shrug. The poor thing is having a rough go of things lately. She can sleep while we eat and pack up.
“I also found these,” Baldure says, pulling my attention back to him, and shows me the dozen or so mottled brown eggs he has tucked in his arm.
“Yay! Fresh eggs for breakfast,” Tristin crows from across the field.
I laugh and shake my head. “Set them over by the firepit. I’ll cook them up in a moment.”
Baldure agrees and walks off, gently laying the eggs in a neat pile where I instructed then sitting on a log bench. Zebulon and Tristin scavenge for flat rocks we can use for plates while I retrieve Mary’s frying pan. It was a joke, but it really has come in handy.
Kerric makes a small stack of wood in the fire pit, and to my surprise Turhion comes over and lights it, taking a seat opposite Baldure with his brother. He doesn’t speak, and neither does he glare, but I can feel the tension in the air as I cook our breakfast.
“So, Baldure, where are the birds that laid these eggs?” I ask, trying to break the awkward silence, and Baldure gives me a foxy look. “You ate them, didn’t you?!”
“They were stupid and easy to catch.” Baldure shrugs, grinning mischievously.
Tristin bursts into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling backwards off the log, and soon everyone’s laughing. Even Turhion, although he’s trying to hide it.
“First round’s done,” I call, piling the fluffy, scrambled eggs on a rock.
“Dibs,” Tristin shouts, jumping up and snatching the plate before Zebulon can, then taking a piece of deer jerky to use as an edible spoon.
I work my way through everyone else, serving
myself last and setting some aside for Mary, then scrambling up the rest of the eggs for anyone who wants seconds.
Zebulon wakes Mary when it’s time to pack up the camp, her little nap seeming to have rejuvenated her a bit. She’s eating ravenously, even taking a second helping.
The tents go down quickly, and after refilling any empty bottles, we’re ready to go. Alarr walks out of the forest, joining us as we finish strapping on our backpacks.
“You got a little something there,” I tease, pulling a spotted feather from the corner of his mouth with a laugh.
Thank you, Xerxia. Alarr nudges me playfully. Baldure is correct. Those birds were stupid and easy to catch.
My laugh peels through the trees, accompanied by Baldure’s rumbling chuckle, and I realize Alarr’s words were for more than just me, but not everyone, it would seem. This gets to be a joke between just us.
“Secrets don’t make friends,” Zebulon quips, glaring between Alarr, Baldure, and me.
“No, but they keep them,” I banter, laughing at everyone’s confusion, then lead the way farther down the deer path we came in on last night.
✽✽✽
Thunder rumbles through the mountains and petrichor fills the air as the storms from the night linger, showering us with a soft drizzle. A Great Horned Owl glares gloomily out from under a pine bough, feathers damp and large yellow eyes judging us as we walk by. She’s clearly not enjoying this weather, but her two little owlets are, peeking curiously out from under her protection.
Tensions aren’t as high as they were the night before. Caedryn’s walking at ease beside me, and when we take a break under the cover of a large juniper and cedar stand, no one has a problem with Baldure’s proximity.
As I lean against the gray and white tree trunk beside me, watching the undercurrent of emotions in the group as they relax, Turhion approaches. His steel blue eyes are softer when they meet mine and drop submissively when he stands before me.
“I apologize,” he begins. “I said I would try, but let my anger and hatred blind me.”