The smell of roasting boar drifted from the nearby cave as the meat crackled above the campfire. Calen pulled the warm scent into his nostrils. His stomach rumbled as he ran his hand along Valerys's neck, feeling the cool touch of the dragon's scales beneath his fingertips. He remembered the first time he touched those scales, his surprise at how soft they had felt. Valerys had seemed so vulnerable then. So small and fragile. His mind just a sensation in the back of Calen's mind. It was almost disconcerting to see how much he had grown. Even the time trapped in those tunnels had not slowed him. He was now easily larger than any horse Calen had seen, even the Varsundi horse that rode into The Glade three summers past – the Blackthorn, he thought it was called – and in time, he would be as large as the dragons that had razed Belduar to the ground. There would be no hiding him then; the Dragonguard would be able to find them wherever they went.
Valerys nuzzled his snout against Calen's arm, a feeling of comfort radiating from his mind. The dragon's pale lavender eyes drew level with Calen's before he arched his head forward and touched the flat of his head against Calen's forehead. Valerys's intention was clear.
"Draleid n'aldryr," Calen said, only loud enough to be considered a whisper. "Unira." Always.
A low rumble resonated from Valerys in acknowledgement.
Calen reached up and ran his hands along the ridges of horns that framed Valerys's jaw. "I'll ask Vaeril to take a look at your wounds after he has eaten. He is already tired from healing the others. Until then, get some rest."
Valerys puffed out air through his nostrils in a touch of defiance.
"Don't be such a baby. They're only small cuts." Calen held a smile on his face as he narrowed his eyes at Valerys. The dragon nudged Calen with his snout before nestling his head back on top of his forelimbs.
Even as he walked towards the cave, snow melting as it touched his skin, Calen could feel the sombre atmosphere that had settled over the camp like a dense fog. They had started out the journey with just under fifty souls. The wyrms had ravaged them. Were it not for Valerys, none of them might have survived at all.
Calen eyed Lopir sitting to the left of the fire beside Korik and Tarmon, absently fingering the mound of mottled flesh where his eye had been. He had been lucky.
A slight pang of guilt struck Calen as he looked out over the survivors. Most of the Drifaienin had not made it. Out of the eleven that were still left, the Drifaienin numbered only five. The guilt he felt was not about their deaths, though that was there too. It was guilt due to his relief that none of his friends had died in their places. It didn't feel right to place the lives of his own friends above the lives of the people who were helping them, but he did.
Calen sought out Alleron with his eyes and found him at the edge of the makeshift camp, leaning on top of his axe with the pommel buried in the snow and a thick coat of furs draped over his shoulders. Ignoring the hunger in his belly, Calen made his way over to the man, snow crunching under his feet with every step. They had gotten a brief reprieve from the snowfall, but the ground was still coated with a blanket of white, and the air still nipped at Calen's skin.
"All is well?" Alleron asked, without looking at Calen. The man kept his eyes fixed on the forest in front of him. Calen didn't think he would ever get over how bright it was at night here once the snowfall eased. It might have been something to do with the snow, but he wasn't sure. Rist would know. He always knew those sorts of things. All three of us will find each other again, I promise you."Aye," Calen replied, stepping up beside Alleron. "And you?"
"I'll live." The usual mirth that permeated Alleron's voice had vanished, replaced by a grim emptiness.
"I'm sorry for those you lost."
Alleron turned to Calen and stood to his full height. "Your apologies are not needed. Drifaien is a dangerous place, now more so than ever. Travelling these lands is perilous, yet those men and women would have made this journey at one time or another had you not shown up. I know the look in your eyes. You do not hold their deaths on your shoulders."
"I…"
"They died fighting. They died heroes' deaths. Don't take that away from them with your guilt. Let them celebrate in Achyron's halls."
Calen gave a nod. He wasn't sure he truly understood, but he didn't have to. Sometimes acceptance was all that mattered. "How have any of you survived with attacks like that? We barely did, and we had Valerys."
A look of genuine uncertainty painted Alleron's face. "I've never seen so many in one place. Like I said before, the wyrms usually hunt alone, and even then, they're hard to kill, but we manage. If they start attacking like this, in packs…" Alleron's shoulders dropped. "Truthfully, I don't know how my people will survive. But we will find a way."
Calen didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he stood there beside Alleron, in silence, staring out into half-lit depths of the forest. It was Alleron who spoke. "What do you intend to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"When we get to Arisfall and you get on your ship." Alleron again turned to face Calen. The man's thick beard concealed most of his face, but there was a genuine curiosity in his eyes. "There is a war coming, Calen. The empire is using you as an excuse to increase their forces in the South. Reports come in every day of imperial ships landing at Gisa and Falstide. By the time we arrive at Arisfall, the imperial mage will have already come and gone with his instructions to capture the Draleid, should he appear. Some of the High Lords will fall in line, but others will not. What do you think Castor Kai will do in Illyanara, or Syrene Linas of Arkalen? Do you think the Valtarans will lay down with a boot already on their neck?"
"I didn't mean to start this…"
Alleron sighed. "You didn't. It started centuries ago. But you will be a part of it, like it or not. So, what do you intend to do?"
Valerys rumbled in the back of Calen's mind, a bold defiance that thrummed through him. "We intend to fight."
"We?" Alleron raised an eyebrow. "Ah… I see," he said, his eyes falling on Valerys.
"And you?" Calen asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Alleron.
"Me?"
"Your father is High Lord of Drifaien. What will Drifaien do?"
Alleron let out a sigh, resting his back against the trunk of the tree. "My father is not the man he once was. In truth, I don't know what he will do. I can only be sure he will do whatever benefits him most. But I will fight. My people bleed for this land. I don't intend to let the empire take even more from us." Alleron pushed himself away from the trunk. "Go, eat some food. It will be a few days before we reach Kalingat and then another four days from there to Arisfall. With any luck, we won't see more wyrms." With that, Alleron hefted his axe up over his shoulder and set off on a slow walk around the camp's perimeter.
"There's that word again," Calen muttered. "Luck."
Almost as soon as Alleron started to walk away, Calen's stomach rumbled. It had been a while since he had eaten anything, and the smell of the boar meat hung heavy in the air.
Everyone was eating in silence as Calen walked into the cave and took a seat in the dirt between Vaeril and Alleron's lieutenant, Alwen.
"Just in time, Draleid," Alwen said, handing Calen a piece of half-stale bread and a cloth wrap stuffed with boar meat. "I saw the dwarves eyeing up the last of it." Alwen spoke just loud enough for Korik and Lopir to hear him. Calen found it difficult to tell if the man was joking or if he was trying to stir up trouble. Luckily, Lopir just threw Alwen a dirty look, and Korik ignored him. Calen didn't have the energy to deal with any of that. He nodded at Alwen as he took the bread and the meat, not wasting any time before he shovelled it into his mouth.
Calen couldn't help but look out at Valerys, curled up in the snow where he had left him. The dragon had flat out refused to come inside the cave. It was big enough to fit him comfortably, but that wasn't the issue. A deep wave of anxiety flooded through Valerys's mind at the thought of being inside anything that even remotely resembled the tunnels that ran under the mountains. What had happened still sat fresh in both of their minds. They had nearly brought the tunnel down on top of themselves and everyone else. In his panic, Valerys had lost control, and with that, so had Calen. That was how simple it was. If they lost control for even a moment, they could bring everything crashing down.
"How do you feel?" Vaeril asked Calen, breaking the silence that had sat comfortably in the air. The elf's shoulder-length blonde hair shimmered in the glow of the firelight as he stared absently at the ground.
"I'm all right. Just a few scratches. Could have been worse. How about you?"
"I don't mean physically." Vaeril lifted his head slightly. He shifted his gaze from the hard dirt of the cave floor to the ever-flickering flames of the fire. "You should have died out there."
A knot twisted in Calen's stomach. "What are you talking about?"
Vaeril turned to match Calen's stare. "You should not have been able to draw so heavily from the Spark. First in Belduar, now here. It might be because of your bond with Valerys. I have never seen someone be able to draw so heavily, so quickly. Just… be careful."
Calen didn't know either. He had felt the drain pulling his soul from his body both times, just as he had before. Yet each time, he felt stronger. Even then, as he sat by the fire, he felt stronger than he had before the wyrms attacked. His knees still felt weak, and a slight burn still worked its way through his spine, but he felt stronger. Was he truly stronger? Or was that simply the Spark's way of tempting him to take more? Urging him to dig deeper. "I will be."
Vaeril gave a slow nod, as though he only half-believed Calen. "Once we return to the Lodhar Mountains, perhaps Aeson Virandr will know more. I cannot keep you safe from the things I do not know."
Calen gave Vaeril a weak smile before standing up and grabbing his sleeping sack from the ground. "Wake me when we are ready to leave. I'm going to sleep with Valerys."
He could see the hesitation on Vaeril's face, but the elf didn't argue. "It will be done, Draleid."
Calen nodded his thanks at Vaeril before making his way out of the cave. The elf still hadn't truly taken to calling Calen by his name, and it seemed he specifically used the title 'Draleid' whenever he disagreed with Calen's choices.
Calen shook his head and sighed as he tossed his sleeping sack on the ground beside Valerys, who lifted his head slightly at Calen's arrival. Of all the problems in the world, Vaeril's word choice was among the smallest. First, he had to think about what exactly they were going to do once they reached Arisfall.
Calen pulled on threads of Fire, using them to clear the snow beside Valerys. In its place, he unfurled his sleeping sack. It was of Drifaienin design, made to withstand the cold and the harsh conditions. It was like two blanket rolls stitched together at the sides and lined with sheep's wool on the inside, while the outside was covered in worn leather. Most importantly, it made for a warm place to sleep, and sleep was something he desperately needed.
As Calen shuffled himself into the wool-lined sleeping sack, Valerys extended his wing, acting as a canopy in case of snowfall.
Thank you.
A low rumble of acknowledgement touched the back of Calen's mind and a comforting warmth filled him. There, with Valerys watching over him and the heat of the dragon's body banishing the chill in Calen's bones, he let himself drift off into the world of dreams.