Page 13 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Thirteen

“ H ome… Wanna go home.”

Aeron’s words echo in the back of my mind, over and over like the ostinato of a song. I hear them in the stillness of the unbearable quiet. These words remain while Aeron is gone.

This night is darker than the last—than any night before it.

We’ve long since left that bloodied patch of road behind, along with the corpses of our attackers. But the smell of burning flesh stays with me, acrid and stomach turning, reminding me of how we piled the remains of our felled enemies and lit them ablaze. When I asked why we were bothering, Cadoc answered, “Because worse things are drawn to the dead.”

No one has spoken since.

Except Aeron. His memory is an unrelenting whisper in my head, scratching against my skull.

His body had been carefully prepared by Neith. Wrapped and placed on a pyre Jaromir built. I wonder if his family honors that practice or if they would have wanted him buried on their soil. He can’t even return to his father’s resting place now, but Cadoc was right. We couldn’t bring his body with us.

His armor sits in a neat pile beside his pack, his sword and belongings all carefully placed as if at any moment he’ll return.

Neith glares into the fire, shadows dancing along the scar on her face, and she takes another deep drink of her flagon. She hasn’t shown her tears, but the way her eyes have that sunken-in look, I can assume she’s hiding her weeping as she hides most things.

Cadoc sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He tosses a fistful of dirt into the fire.

Jaromir has cleaned and sharpened every blade in our camp. His broad shoulders carry a tight line of tension, and the urge to reach out to him overcomes me—

I smother it down and rub my eyes instead.

Aeron is gone.

It seems like a poorly timed joke. That someone whose light burns so bright could be snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

A throat clears across the fire—Cadoc—and it ruptures the careful quiet of our camp.

“What now?”

It’s a question that’s plagued me, and I’m eternally grateful for Cadoc asking it.

“What do you mean?” Jaromir’s voice, the first time I’ve heard it in hours, is thick and rough.

“Without Aeron…” Cadoc trails off. We all catch his meaning. Without Aeron, there’s no sense in continuing. No funding for the trip, no reward when we finish. We still don’t even know what we’ll find at our destination. Though I’ve translated the map, that doesn’t serve as proof the map itself is real or that anything awaits us at the end of the journey. Even my part in this is rendered useless. Aeron hired me to sing of his exploits, and now it seems the only thing I have occasion to write is a eulogy.

“We turn back, take Syl home,” Jaromir says, and even though I knew this, my heart plummets. He scrubs a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he wears a tight expression. “Then… I suppose we return to whatever we left waiting for us.”

His words sink like a stone in my gut. What, or whom, did he leave behind? Surely, he’s unattached if he freely seeks his pleasure on the road, but did he say as much? No… he’s merely remarked on the loneliness.

“At first light, then.” Cadoc wipes his cheeks, nodding his head with grim determination.

Neith still hasn’t spoken.

I want to fight them on this. I don’t want to go home, not yet. I don’t know what I want… but I can’t pretend things will go back to normal, not after this.

Sleep evades me, and I find myself wandering out of my tent long before the sun is due to rise. The fire is spent, and darkness covers the quiet camp. A familiar form sits against a fallen log.

Jaromir.

We haven’t spoken since the attack, and without my permission, my footsteps propel me toward him. He watches my approach, but I can’t see his expression.

I don’t ask if I can sit. I claim the spot at his side, allowing the full warmth of his leg to settle against mine.

“Couldn’t sleep?” These are the first words I’ve spoken to him.

“Not tonight,” he says, and despite my pain at the prospect of returning to Hollowden, just hearing his voice soothes some of the ache.

My thoughts turn to his words by the fire, of returning to whatever waited for them. He doesn’t owe me anything. He’s merely a travel companion, a colleague I’ve kissed twice and… well, he did shove his hand between my legs but we had no understanding or commitment to imply he had someone waiting for him. I should just let it be, since we’re parting ways soon anyway, and it’s none of my business—

“Who awaits your return?”

I don’t even regret the words, even if they leap from my tongue without my consent.

“My brother’s wife and my two nieces,” Jaromir says this with a resigned sigh. “I owe them much.”

It’s clear he doesn’t want to delve into details.

“Where is your brother?” My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I catch the way he grimaces.

“Damir died last summer season.”

Oh. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked. I can recognize burying old hurts beneath a shallow grave when I see it. If speaking of it still brings him pain, it would be best to let the conversation end here.

“What happened to him?”

Trouble is, I want to know everything there is to learn about Jaromir, including the pain he’d rather mask.

“I asked him to help me complete a contract—easy money; the only true threat was imprisonment. It was a land squabble, and the previous owners claimed their property had been cut in half by their neighbor. Something about a garden they’d planted years ago and the town magistrate calling squatter’s rights. Our job was to set fire to their garden in exchange for decent coin. Damir’s wife was pregnant with the twins, and they could use any extra scrap they could get.” Jaromir releases a heavy sigh. “I didn’t need his help, but I couldn’t get him to accept the money for free; his pride wouldn’t allow it.

We were almost to the designated spot when we uncovered an arachnida nest. Damir took a barb to the heart and died before I could even carry him back into town.”

I’ve heard tales of arachnida nests. In general, the giant spider-like creatures left you alone if you steered clear of their nesting grounds. But step too close…

Jaromir’s breathing has quickened, taking an edge of desperation, and without thought, I grab his hand.

“Oh, Jaromir. I’m so sorry.”

His fingers gently lace with mine, so instead of a comforting touch, it’s more of an intimate hold.

“The past is set in stone,” he says with a note of finality. “All I can do now is make sure his wife and daughters want for nothing. That’s what this trip was meant to achieve. I was going to tend to the needs they now face in his absence; it wouldn’t cover the debt, not by leagues, but it would lessen their burden. The loss they suffered at my hands.”

I grab his chin and turn him to face me. That familiar crease in his brow has returned, so I run my thumb over it before cupping his cheek. “What happened to your brother was awful, but it wasn’t your fault. Life is hard enough without bearing the guilt of living when others fall. You’ve done right by Damir’s family, and that’s more than enough.”

When I go to pull my hand away, he catches it and holds it in place.

No wonder he had no patience for me at first. If he remotely perceived me as a means to delay his care and return for them, that would be reason enough. But still… it’s such a shame to come all this way only to return home.

Home.

An ideal forever destined to remain out of grasp. I mean, I’m used to Hollowden, and it was harder to leave than I thought it would be, but the idea of returning fills me with dread. I miss Kingsley and Brigitta something fierce, but I can’t go back to being the oddity of the village. Until I make a name for myself, something bigger than the sharpness of my ears, there’s nothing for me there. Maybe there never will be.

“Why must you bring me back?” I should have spoken up over the fire, with Cadoc and Neith to weigh in, but something held my tongue. Something that doesn’t halt my words now.

Jaromir’s brows raise. “Because it’s your home.”

I shake my head and run my hands over my hair to hide my ears. “No, it isn’t.”

His hand catches mine, gently pulling it away. With a featherlight touch, he tucks my hair behind my pointed ear, lingering at the most sensitive spot. “Where is home?”

“I’ll let you know when I find it.” I cringe away from him, discomfort warring with a foreign shivery feeling.

No one has ever touched my ears.

The sudden memory of my journey across the sea, of hiding below deck, in the cargo hold and crying myself to sleep, takes shape. Fear of the unknown, grief of loss, it was all an overwhelming swell like the waves against the ship. But more than anything, it was the loneliness. I didn’t quite understand it as such. It took the shape of missing the safety of sitting on Da’s shoulders. It was curling in on myself, thoughts screaming, I want my Mama, over and over.

I’ve long since grown from that scared little elfling, braving the great wide world on my own, but that pulse of loneliness always remains.

I allow a practiced smirk to curl against my mouth. “Perhaps when I become a world-famous bard, I’ll have a home on every continent.”

“I have no doubt of this.”

Perhaps it’s selfish for me to think this now, but this trip, this shot… it was supposed to be my chance. It feels like a loss, like a broken promise. Does it feel that way to Jaromir? He was counting on this payment, this chance to care for his brother’s family. And with the ill-timed thrust of a sword, it’s over.

I hug my knees, but it does nothing to quell the weight in my stomach. Aeron is gone. His life was cut short and my chances along with it. If only we’d stayed another day in Astervale. If only he hadn’t been shot in the first place. If only he hadn’t posted those foolish flyers.

If only.

If only.

If only.

“Is there anywhere else you’d prefer to go?” Jaromir’s voice snags my attention. “If Hollowden is so loathsome, where would you choose?”

If I could go anywhere? That list is unbearably long and unattainable, so I offer the quickest answer I can give. “I’d continue on our quest to find the dragon.”

Something clicks in me, and the rightness of it all sings in my veins. It courses through my blood until I have no recourse but to leap to my feet and stroll to where my lute rests in my tent. I snatch it up and return to Jaromir’s side. His curious gaze burns against my skin, but I need a moment to think before I can answer the questions begging for release.

I pluck a soft tune, quietly enough I shouldn’t disturb the others, and familiar enough I don’t need to think on what my fingers are doing. Muscle memory takes over, and the comforting ambience helps clear my spinning thoughts.

Jaromir’s large hand clamps over the neck of my lute, silencing my playing. I glare at him and peel his fingers off.

“Don’t touch my lute.” I quickly resume plucking. In order for this to work, I need everyone on board. Well, need is a strong word. But I’ve grown fond of everyone, and the loss of Aeron is more than I wish to bear already. Cadoc is useful for basic wound care, Neith for her blades and her wits, Jaromir for his fighting skills and knowledge of the land.

We can do this.

“Jaromir,” I say, finally putting down my instrument and facing him with my most winning smile, “I have a proposition for you.”

His blank stare must hide his eager anticipation. A practiced mask, I should think.

“We carry on and see the end of this journey. We complete Aeron’s quest, everyone gets paid, you can still offer this to your sister-in-law and nieces. I can still bring eternal glory to Aeron’s name, thus fulfilling his life’s greatest wish.”

He’s still staring at me, no revealing expression even hinting its approach. Despite the heat crawling up my neck, I continue.

“We already have the supplies, the destination, and the funding.” I avoid glancing at Aeron’s pack where his coin purse still resides. We divided up the coin we found on the bodies of the mercenaries, but I know it pales in comparison to what Aeron carried. We weren’t going to touch it, but if it’s in pursuit of his mission, it isn’t stealing, is it?

“You want to pretend he’s still alive. For coin.”

“No. I want to bring him honor even after death for glory… and coin.” There’s a distinction there, I’m sure of it. “Tell me, and be honest, knowing Aeron… what would he want?”

Jaromir hesitates, a strange look coming over him before a tolerant smile claims his mouth. “He’d want us to forge on. Come fire and brimstone or torrential flood, he’d want this done.” He glances past my shoulder, to where Neith’s tent sits. “And he’d want her comfortably taken care of for life.”

I nod, grinning. “So, it’s settled. We’ll find the dragon, restore honor to Aeron’s name, rub his brother’s face in it, and find riches beyond our wildest dreams.”

“I don’t know who you think is paying us the second half, but none of us will walk away rich.”

“There’s always a kernel of truth to be found in legends. If there’s a fabled hoard, even if it isn’t in treasure, it’s going to be something valuable. Plus, if we’re all heroes, I doubt there’s a tavern in the country where we won’t be offered free drink.”

Jaromir shakes his head, wearing an indulgent smile. “That alone is worth the trip.”

If Jaromir thinks I’ll have a change of heart in the cold light of day, he is dead wrong. Morning ushers in a renewed determination, and by the time Neith and Cadoc rise from their bedrolls, I’m practically vibrating with nerves.

Excitement. Vibrating with excitement.

Cadoc wordlessly tosses a golden pear to Neith and sets to work packing up camp. That won’t do. I was hoping to have their attention over breakfast to ease them in.

I clear my throat. “I had a thought last night. One that Jaromir whole-heartedly supports.” This earns me a grunt of disapproval, but I ignore it. “I’ve been thinking about our next course of action.”

At this, Cadoc stills. Neith pulls a knife from her boot and slices into the flesh of her pear.

“Next course of action?” Cadoc asks, brow lifting.

“It would be a mistake to quit now. Aeron… he wanted this. Wanted to restore honor to his name and earn his rightful place in history. In his family’s legacy.” My throat tightens. “We owe him that much.”

Neith’s eyes flash. “Aeron is dead because of ‘is silly pursuit. Why should we sully his memory further?”

I expected her anger, but still my cheeks burn. “It isn’t sullying his memory. We’re honoring his wishes.” He wanted to go home. To be welcomed home. He deserves a hero’s welcome.

“Not to state the obvious,” Cadoc cuts in, “but how can a dead man slay a dragon?”

I wet my lips, my speech already prepared. “We carry on as if he still lives. I write and sing ballads in his name, lifting him higher beyond measure. We stay in as many inns and taverns as we can, spreading news of his exploits. Maybe we even pick up a few contracts along the way and complete them in his name. No one knows what he looks like, and we can always come up with excuses as to why he isn’t physically in the tavern with us. All the while, his name will gain traction until his brother is forced to restore his honor, and then at the very end of our journey…”

I take a deep breath. This is the riskiest part of my argument, and I don’t know how they’ll react.

“At the very end… he will die bravely, taking the dragon down with him.”

Stunned silence descends over the camp.

The urge to lower my gaze from their scrutinizing stares is overwhelming, but I keep my head high, taking whatever judgment they pass on the chin.

Cadoc is the first to break the silence. “How do we get paid?”

“Aeron was fully outfitted with the budget for this journey, along with the first half of our compensation.” I remember these terms because I objected to not getting the first half upfront, and the latter half when we finish, but he was insistent that he didn’t wish to carry that much coin on him. “Our second half, we’ll collect when we bring news of his heroic death to his brother.” This is the biggest stretch in my plan. We have no promise that his family will honor a bargain struck in Aeron’s name, but that’s where my optimism bridges the gap.

Cadoc winces and Neith shakes her head. “I dinnae ken if Arnorr will give us a copper. But… I agree with ye on everything else.” A muscle feathers in her jaw, and her gaze drops to the ground. “Aeron would want this.”

I nod emphatically, thanking my lucky stars she was quick to sway, before I turn to Cadoc.

His lip curls, and he whines. “Another month on the road. I can’t stomach staying in these small towns for more than a night, you know.”

“But, Cadoc,” I say, “when we visit every town and tavern from here to Kalinia, you’ll be famous from my ballads. It won’t feel like vagrancy, oh no; it’ll be more like you’re a visiting nobleman.” I arch a brow meaningfully. “And I can be very generous with some of my descriptions.”

A broad grin stretches across his handsome face, dimples creasing his dark cheeks. “Well… when you put it that way…”

“Is that a yes?”

His grin only widens before it falters. “Wait, what do you mean generous? You think I need fictionalized accounts of my prowess? I’ll pull it out right now, I don’t even care.” He reaches for his trousers, but Jaromir clears his throat pointedly.

“Don’t. We’ve all seen it. We know.”

“Truly, we’re all in accord?” I ignore the exchange, even as Cadoc keeps arguing with Jaromir about the lengths at which he’ll go to defend his honor. Neith finds my gaze and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

It’s more than enough. It’s a plan and a promise—

I will bring Aeron honor. And I will fight his dragon.