At the Altar of Dragons

Session 28 | Chapter 8

My arms are starting to ache with the familiar burn of effort exerted while training. Perona has pulled out a series of wooden training swords for us to use as she instructs on proper technique, fighting stances, and how to successfully parry an incoming blow.

Though the hum of exertion has entered my limbs and sunk into my shoulder blade, the intensity of this training leaves me wanting. Following her schooled training methods feels nearly fruitless. Many of the methods she’s outlined, I’ve trained for years with the conclave in, just using handaxes instead of shortswords. The weight of the practice weapons throw me off balance–expecting for the mass of the weapon to offset my own as I swipe or slice the wooden blade.

She’s walking me through a maneuver for a lunging strike when something catches our attention at the edge of the courtyard. “Maire!” Layna calls across the open space, “Why is your–”

“Why did you bring him here?!” I snap, seeing the platinum form of Lendys following on her heels. I stalk over, sword in hand, ready to strike if needed. Be that Lendys or one of my own party members, I’m not sure. Red is creeping in at the edges of my vision and the Priest’s presence is looming at the edge of my consciousness.

“I already have one of these,” she protests, “He was at my door when I woke up! I already have one of these–I don’t need another fucking god! You take him back!”

Blood pulses in my ears as I shout back, “I never asked for him!”

And yet you let him hurt you anyways, Huntress. This is why we don’t form attachments, the Priest tuts, his inky formless presence slipping into the forefront of my mind.

“Did I ask for Silvyr? No! But he’s here and this one’s here now too!” Layna gestures over her shoulder to where Silvyr and Raesh are walking away from the group towards the tower.

“But you want Silvyr!” I cry, “I don’t want him!”

Layna’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head at my words, “Now! Now I want him! But not when I found out all that shit!” She groans and rubs her face, “Well kind of then, but anyways–”

I roll my eyes, tired of this back and forth, and turn to Zeref before asking the Tortle, “Can you blow him up?”

Anger…anger is blinding you. Remember the contract.

I groan, closing my eyes and tipping my head towards the sky, “No–nevermind.” Zeref shoots me a confused look before I wryly explain, “Because then I die!”

Zeref’s usually calm demeanor shifts to shock as he abruptly takes his hand off the trigger of his cannon. “Oh then no–I better not do that…” he trails off, looking around as if confirming that everyone heard the same words he did.

“You die if he dies?” Layna shrieks.

Eyes still closed, I rub my face with my free hand. “Yes,” I groan in response.

“Oh fuck,” Layna reacts.

Quietly, I hear Zeref comment, “Except we’ve seen him die before…”

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The moment flashes before my eyes–Goose, the small emerald drake, chancing one last glance over his shoulder at me before diving onto the animated armor at the Lodge. He pushed it through the teleportation tapestry and despite being miles away, the moment the armor exploded will haunt my bones. The piercing absence left in the moment Goose died–desummoned–the memory is enough to send another wave of grief rippling over my body. I clench my jaw and look at where Lendys is standing, still somewhat angled behind Layna.

You were willing to save me, but couldn’t tell me the truth.

“Okay! Okay! Okay!” Perona’s voice jolts me out of the memory and I blink away the tears that started to form. “Everyone calm down,” she continues, looking directly at Layna and instructing, “You go do what you need to in your room.”

“Follow her,” I bite at Lendys immediately.

Layna throws her hands up and protests, “No! I don’t want him following me! That’s the whole point of why I came out here!”

I’m readying my own volley back at Layna when Perona shouts, “Quiet!” The entire group comes to a fuming halt where we stand. “Little one,” she looks at Lendys, “Sit in that corner.”

My eyes flick to her, glaring at the order for Lendys. He is yours to command, Huntress. Why are you allowing her to overstep already? The Priest whispers in my ear, a ghost of a breath playing with the loose hairs there.

Perona turns to me and picks me up before I can muster a response. My body goes stiff as she physically moves me a few feet away and places me back down in the ground. Did she just fucking move me? I stare at her in disbelief, my brow furrowed and my hand gripping the practice sword so tight my knuckles are surely white. She looks me in the eye and commands, “We’re training. Hit me with your sword.”

I blink at her statement, physically moving me away from the argument with Layna, and I can’t bring myself to move. Behind me, Layna starts to leave, but calls to me, “If you want to blow something up later, possibly the gods, let me know.”

Once more, I blink and some of the red edges bleeding into my vision recede slightly. Looking over my shoulder, I see Alba approaching, likely summoned by the chaos and shouting. She looks between me and Lendys, then me and Perona, and back to me and Lendys a final time, before speaking, “I’m not going to ask, because I feel like I shouldn’t yet,” she pauses and flicks her attention to me again, “But do you want me to take that?” She points to one of her hooves where Lendys is still standing, no longer shielded but also not in the corner as Perona directed him to.

At that defiance, I incline my head a touch, carefully weighting my response.

“Please take it,” Layna cuts in.

Him. Not it.

When I don’t respond promptly Alba asks again, “Do you want me to take him somewhere away from you?”

My eyes slide from Alba to where Lendys stands nearby, tail tucked and shoulders stiff. Shaking my head, I quietly tell Alba no and then look to Lendys and add, “Just go sit in the corner.”

Are you softening to him already, Huntress?

I wince at the Priest’s accusations and add, “And face the wall.”

The group begins to dissipate as I watch Lendys slink away to the edge of the courtyard to sit down by himself. I suck in a breath seeing his form look so defeated. The tiniest pang creeps into my chest and I hold my ground, forcing myself to not walk over to him. I’m not ready to talk to him again yet, but also the thought of him left to his own devices with Alba horrifies me for his safety.

The only acceptable reason for this concern is for your own safety and survival. Do you not remember the deception? The lies? The way he played with your soul so carelessly?

Out of nowhere, my sword is smacked by Perona’s and her gaze is locked on mine. I furrow my brow, eyes cold as I look from her to the blades and back again. “Eyes on me,” she directs.

I really need to hit something.