Page 9 of The Fire Apprentice (Sylvania #5)

C limbing down the peak from Axe’s den went more quickly than going up. Jane still scrambled slowly over boulders, even with Rowan offering a hand. But when they came to a sheer cliff face, Rowan set up the rope and bounced his way down in a few heartbeats.

Once he was down, she untied the rope from the loop in the ledge and threaded it through the same loop so it could move back and forth. She lowered the free end to Rowan and pulled up the end with the special spring-clip dangling from it. She clipped it to her own belt and climbed over the edge while Rowan held the rope tightly. He lowered her down as she clung to the rope and used her legs to stop herself from knocking into the cliff wall.

It was not “fun” at all.

Rowan caught her elbow and stopped her from twisting as her toes landed. She wobbled and crumpled to sit until her limbs stopped shaking, but her hands still shook as she unclipped the rope and passed it back to Rowan. He pulled it through the loop above them until he had it coiled in his hands and they moved on.

She held in her questions so she could concentrate on getting down the cliffs safely.

Axe had told Rowan that Elle was one peak away. He had felt the other dragon’s enthusiasm as she flew off to meet Elle—Axe seemed to think Elle had called to her—and he didn’t sense anything wrong since they’d returned. He referred to the other dragon as Sunshine, but Rowan couldn’t tell if that was a dragon name or something Elle had come up with and Sunshine had shared with Axe. Knowing her daughter, Jane strongly suspected the latter.

Sunshine’s peak wasn’t far from their location, but it was tall.

They’d refilled their gourds from a basin of rainwater outside Axe’s den. Rowan thought it was safe to drink—maybe the thin mountain air and colder temperatures kept it pure. And Rowan had filled his sack with fire mushrooms. He told her he hadn’t wanted to take them, knowing Axe needed them too, but wanted to please Axe by accepting the gift.

As soon as her feet were on the moss of the forest floor, Jane pounced on Rowan. Figuratively.

“Why was Axe sniffing you?”

Rowan coiled the rope one last time. He bent to wedge it into his pack beside all the mushrooms. Jane crossed her arms, waiting. She wiggled her toes as Rowan slowly closed up his pack. He exhaled as he stood and put the pack over his shoulders.

“He was identifying me.”

“He’s not blind, is he?” Axe had stared right at her.

“No. He hadn’t seen me in a while.”

Jane pondered that as they set off through the trees. If Rowan’s appearance had changed that much since Axe had last seen him, he must have been young at the time. Twelve, he’d said—he’d first come when he was twelve. Was that the only time he’d been here? He was striding quickly ahead of her.

She hurried after him. “How were you communicating with Axe if you can’t do it with animals?”

“It’s easier with dragons. They’re very intelligent.”

“Do you have a bond the way Elle has with Sunshine?”

“I’ve known him a long time.”

“Does that kind of bond happen only when there’s fire magic?”

He didn’t answer.

She’d better steer her questions back into safe territory before Rowan shut down completely. “Is Axe old? He seemed... slower than Sunshine.”

“He is old. Contrary to human myths, dragons don’t live forever.”

“Are there a lot of dragons?”

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

“Most of them live deep in the western mountains. There are hot mineral springs that benefit them. They only come to the edge of the mountains when—” His words cut off.

Jane kept silent.

“Only a few come this close to our civilization,” he finished. He hurried forward.

Jane jogged along behind him but didn’t ask anything else. What was his history with Axe? It seemed obvious they had a bond, and Rowan possessing fire magic was the most obvious explanation, but if that was true, why didn’t he know how to use it? He’d said he was not especially skilled at magic—had he tried to learn and failed? She wanted to know but not enough to upset him by asking.

Before the sun set, they reached the main trail and descended to the clearing where they’d camped. As Rowan approached the firepit, he stopped. His shoulders stiffened and he glanced about quickly. Jane came up beside him.

“Someone’s been here,” he said.

“How can you tell?”

“The wood in the fire. I left our skewers and a few branches stacked against the edge for tonight, and they’ve all been knocked sideways.”

“It could have been an animal?”

“Maybe.”

“Or someone coming down from the mine?” Master Smith had said his ore was late. But nothing indicated a load of ore had passed down the trail that day—like mule droppings or broken branches. The forest was as quiet as it had been all along. She searched the fireside for the hard shell of mud she’d used as a poultice the previous evening. She couldn’t see it or even its broken remains.

Rowan dropped his pack to the ground and turned to her. “Jane. Please, you can’t tell anyone the way we went today.”

“I won’t. Of course I won’t. You said dragons don’t like visitors.”

“It’s more than that. If anyone knew he was there, they’d try to reach him. Humans—”

“You said. They think dragons have hoards filled with riches and magic to steal. Rowan, I swear, I won’t tell anyone where he is.”

She’d taken his hand while talking. She squeezed it and the panic in his eyes receded.

“No one will hurt him,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Tonight Jane was able to help gather wood for the fire, and they had the feast of mushrooms from Axe. Within a few minutes, Jane was lighting a fire as Rowan skewered the mushrooms. He left her roasting them to find more onions.

They ate quietly, supplementing the meal with the nuts and dried cherries she had packed. Now that she was sitting and the adventure of climbing the tall peak and meeting a dragon had passed, Jane was fading. Her arms and legs ached and as the fire warmed her, she slumped down where she sat and jerked herself awake. She flexed her sore limbs. They had to climb again tomorrow—how would she ever manage?

Rowan glanced around the clearing as darkness fell. He’d been doing so repeatedly as they ate. His eyes were alert and his shoulders tense—not like her body, ready to fall off the log. He must be worrying about whoever had come through the campsite. But it was most likely an animal—maybe a raccoon sniffing the firepit for any food they had dropped the previous night.

Rowan left her by the fire to hang one of the hammocks in the trees, leaving his blanket in it. When she dragged herself up and approached, he indicated it was for her.

“I’m going to sit by the fire a little longer,” he said.

Jane took care of her bedtime routine and finally was able to stop moving as she lay back in the hammock. For a moment after lying down, she could barely move to shift her body to the center. She summoned the willpower to use her weary muscles. She’d slept in her clothes the previous night, too awkward with her injured ankle to do any more, but tonight she pulled the suspenders off her shoulders and undid the buttons on her trousers, trying to get comfortable. If only she could sleep in her underthings. But she wasn’t about to start stripping off her clothing with Rowan nearby.

This was Elle’s third night away from home. But they knew where she was. They might even be there tomorrow. Jane had to be patient only a little longer.

The flickering light of the fire filtered through the weave of the hammock. Instead of giving in to the pull to close her eyes, she watched the light fade as the fire died down, and she listened for sounds of Rowan going to sleep, but the clearing was silent. She lifted her fingers to the edge of the fabric and peeked out. He sat beside the pit, where embers glowed dark and red.

He’d seemed so lighthearted when they’d begun climbing the rocks but pensive since they’d finished. He must be mulling over their visit with Axe. When she’d offered to return to Axe, she hadn’t reasoned through what she was saying. She’d felt desolate seeing the solitary dragon and the words had come out. But she meant them. She would like to see him again. And if she went, Rowan would go too, and that seemed important somehow but she couldn’t think clearly anymore.

Rowan looked lonely. She could get up to sit with him. But she was so drowsy. She blinked slowly. He looked despondent sitting there alone by the dying fire.

Rowan softly called her name. She inhaled cool air and turned over in the hammock. He called again and she clumsily pushed herself upright, breaking into the light of morning. She smelled the chilly forest air and rubbed at her eyes.

Rowan stood by the firepit. “I’m sorry to wake you,” he said in that low voice of his. “We’ve a long day.”

“What time is it?” Her throat was raspy from sleep.

“An hour past sunrise.”

“I can’t believe I slept so long.” Her sleep had been heavy and dreamless.

“You worked hard yesterday.”

“Did you sleep?” she asked, eyeing Rowan’s clothing. Not that she expected him to bring pajamas on a trip like this. But his clothing wasn’t rumpled and the second hammock wasn’t hung.

“Some. There’s tea.” And with that, he strode away into the trees to give her a few minutes of privacy.

When she settled by the fire, she scanned over the pot and cups in the hot coals. Rowan had made oats again, enough for two so she sprinkled some of her dried cherries in so he would have to share them. She started eating her half, avoiding the cherries. When he returned, she passed him the bowl.

After they had eaten and packed their things, they headed up the main trail and past the place where they’d left it the previous day. Axe had told Rowan to go to the apex of “the people trail” before turning off to reach Sunshine’s peak. As they continued on, they passed the remains of a broken wagon wheel. And then a ripped-up leather shoe. And a bit of rusty metal sticking up from a clump of grass. Rowan’s shoulders tensed with each new object. Humans had left the trash along the trail, he would say; typical humans. But he was probably right. Even when the fairies used human tools or other technology, they were careful with it and they’d never dump it in the woods when it stopped working.

Soon after they’d started climbing, they rounded a bend and came to a small signpost. Letters carved into the wood read MINE and to the right of the post, a trail wound off into the trees. This trail was wide and flat, weaving between stumps and saplings and out of sight. They stopped at the turn.

“Is there any reason to go down there?” Jane asked.

“No. I’d rather we didn’t.”

Since he was trying to keep the dragons’ locations a secret, it made sense to avoid letting anyone know they were here. But he hesitated, peering down the path.

“Rowan?”

“It’s awfully quiet for a mine.”

“Have you been before?”

“No. But I imagined a mine would have humans shouting orders at each other and a lot of metal machinery clanging.”

Typical fairy response. Although Jane would have thought the same thing. Breaking chunks of iron ore out of rock, or whatever iron miners did, seemed like it would have to be noisy. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

He turned uphill and continued walking.

After the turn to the mine, the trail grew more difficult. A channel of rocks of all shapes and sizes cut through the bushes and Jane had to use her hands to scramble along. As the slope steepened, climbing it actually became easier because she could pull herself upward over the rocks rather than trying to hop from one to the next on her feet or to crawl over them horizontally. It made sense the trail wouldn’t be improved west of the iron mine because no one had a reason to come this far. But a trail led onward, however wild. Maybe at one time, someone—humans or fairies—had had a reason to journey over the mountains on this route.

The trail narrowed to dirt between saplings and curved around a large boulder. As she came out on the far side, the bushes opened to reveal a sheet of rock sloping down to an abrupt drop-off. Jane halted, staring in horror.

Rowan was three steps onto the rock. He glanced back and slowed. “Hang on to the branches,” he said. He moved to the top of the slope and reached for a branch hanging over it and another as he crossed. He didn’t need to hold on like that and was doing it to show her. She crept onto the sheer rock, leaning out for a sturdy-looking branch before leaving the safety of the dirt trail. She placed each foot carefully, checking its grip before moving her weight onto it, and never let go of one branch until she had the next in her fist. It took fifteen paces to cross. Rowan waited on the far side and continued into the bushes as soon as she stepped off the rock.

Across the drop-off was a view of the ridge of green mountains running up to the north. Jane gazed out as she caught her breath. None of the rocky protrusions like the ones she’d seen from Axe’s peak were visible here. They must be to the south, like Axe’s, and to the west of this hill they were climbing.

She followed Rowan into the bushes. She couldn’t see any trail at all, just rocks and leaves and tree trunks, but he strode along as if he were following a path. The rhododendron bushes returned in larger and larger patches until she was passing through a tunnel of them, clambering between boulders that the bushes clung to and spilled over.

“How can you tell where the trail is?” Jane panted.

“There are markers.”

There were markers? She hadn’t seen a single thing that wasn’t a rock, leaf, or branch since they’d left the mine.

A moment later, Rowan slowed. He pointed to a fat dribble of orange sap on a tree trunk.

“That’s a marker?” She reached to run her fingers over the hard surface as she neared. It wasn’t sticky at all, as if it had dried into a solid resin.

“It’s meant to look natural.”

“Did the fairies make them?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t the markers wear off?”

“Eventually,” he said. “Someone comes through to repaint them every dozen summers or so.”

“How do you make the paint?”

“Pine sap. And magic.”

Of course. Magic.

Sunlight glinted on the golden sap. Jane searched overhead for the sun as Rowan continued forward. A beam caught her right in her eyes and she blinked it away and followed him.

The continuous tunnels of rhododendron bushes shaded them as they climbed. The effort of climbing warmed her from the inside, but the shade grew chillier the higher they went. She gasped for air. But not enough that she would worry Rowan about it.

The first day of climbing had made her feel strong, but the resulting stiffness and aches were compounding. Her whole body was one big ache, from the soles of her feet to the tops of her shoulders. If only she could talk to Rowan to pass the time. She didn’t have the breath to do it.

“Here,” he said, stopping and reaching into one random bunch of rhododendron bushes. As Jane caught up, she peered through the thick leaves. His fingers touched lightly on a cluster of magenta blossoms in the center of a ring of leaves. The bright pink amid all the greens and browns of the trail sparked joy in her breast. Each flower looked delicate, with petals as thin as silk, but together the blossoms radiated out from a central point to form a ball of flowers bigger than one of the summer melons that farmers brought in from the plains at Woods End.

“That’s beautiful,” Jane whispered.

Rowan withdrew his hand and slowly resumed climbing. Jane dragged herself away from the flower. But soon they passed another, and another, and another the higher they climbed. She watched for new blooms with each new bend of their route.

And suddenly she stepped out of the bushes onto a rock and the whole world seemed to open up. Green mountains spread to the west before her, ridge after rumpled ridge, so far into the distance that the farther ones were blue and beyond those they faded into the sky at the horizon.

Wind whipped at her bangs, cooling her of any heat she’d built up on the climb. After a hint of pine and the scent of damp growth, the cold in her nostrils obliterated the smell of the forest. Pink blossoms dotted the bushes along the top edge of the rock she stood on and she spotted a few of the orange fire mushrooms. They must be nearing Sunshine’s den. The sun beamed high overhead.

The trail dropped in front of her, running over another sheet of rock, downhill for the first time since they’d left the outpost at the crossroads. Twenty paces ahead, it disappeared back into more blossom-covered bushes with a splotch of resin on the rock beside the entrance to the tunnel. Dark-green pointed pine trees and the rounded tops of hardwoods rose over the leafy rhododendrons.

“Is this the top?”

“Yes. We can take a rest.”

Rowan stepped onto the broad expanse of uneven rock and found a seat, stretching his legs before him. He rotated his ankles in a few circles and stretched his back. Jane carefully followed him onto the rock and lowered herself beside him.

“I’m down to hard biscuits for lunch,” he said. “They’re plain but filling.”

Rose had described the fairies’ travel biscuits once. They were deceptively simple looking but filled with nuts and mashed up dried fruits and seeds that gave a person the energy to walk all day. Which was exactly what Jane needed.

Rowan unwrapped a stack of the bar-shaped biscuits and peeled one off for her. She took a bite—her teeth stuck in the dense biscuit. She had to work her jaw to move her teeth and rip the bite off. She munched through its strange taste of salty sweetness while gazing at the view.

The distant mountains must be taller than this one they’d just climbed. To the north the tops rose above the tree line, and the most distant rocky peaks were capped in white snow. She didn’t see snow on the western peaks but they were pointier on top, except for a cluster with strangely flat tops.

As if he read her mind, Rowan pointed at the group. “Do you see the volcanoes?”

“That’s what they are? The ones without points?”

“Yes. The bits of cloud around the tops are vapors drifting from the thermal vents.”

“Have the fairies traveled that far?” She’d heard of volcanoes but she’d never known anyone who’d seen one.

Rowan shook his head and didn’t answer for a beat. “That’s where Axe is from,” he said at last.

“Where the mineral springs are?”

“Yes.”

Rowan had avoided talking about Axe before, but he stared westward with a wrinkle in his brow and Jane couldn’t resist asking. “Will he return there soon?”

Rowan stared so long without moving that she thought he wouldn’t answer. His gaze dropped from the mountains to his empty hands in his lap. “He has to. He needs to visit the springs but he...” Rowan’s lips pressed tight and his fingers curled into fists.

The silence grew heavy. “How far can we see?” Jane asked to break the silence, and without meaning to, she looked to her left. The mountains to the south were smaller domes, all covered in trees until they disappeared from view.

“Maybe forty or fifty leagues?”

“Not far enough, ” she whispered.

“For what?”

Her cheeks heated even with the stiff breeze. Did fairies have extra-keen hearing? “Nothing.” But when he waited, she sighed. “For a moment I imagined we might be so high I’d see past the edge of the forest. This far west we might be aligned with the Gulch.”

“The Gulch?”

“Gold Gulch.”

He shook his head.

“It’s a tiny outpost on the south edge of the forest, up against the mountains. Someone found gold there once which is how people ended up there, but the gold is gone and the families who remain are farmers.”

“Is that where you’re from?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and ripped another bite off the biscuit.

“Do you miss it?”

Did she? She missed joking with her brothers and the comfort of having her father nearby. But her father had always been melancholy and she’d guessed losing her mother had caused it. And since her mother had died giving birth to her, she had always feared she was what made her father sad.

And it had been lonely in their cottage, several leagues away from the nearest neighbor. Day in, day out, always the same chores and work, the same company.

They’d had seasonal gatherings in the small village center. Those had been exciting. People would camp for several days and the youngsters would sneak off together to talk and kiss and possibly tumble each other in the bushes, finding who they liked and might bond with. That’s where she had first tumbled someone. And continued to tumble others, several times as the seasons passed. Afterward she had gossiped with the other girls about their experiences.

The others had been eager for more, ready to mate with whomever they’d most enjoyed in the bushes. But Jane had felt rushed to pick someone without feeling like she knew any of them. Yes, she wanted someone who was fun in the bushes—or, ideally, in a bed—but that wasn’t all she wanted in a life-mate.

Everyone had assured her the pain of the first time would pass—no one else seemed bothered by it, they were so excited by the pleasure of the encounter. But for her, the pain didn’t pass and no one could explain why. Even the other girls’ mothers hadn’t found a solution, merely advising her to relax or to use a little cooking oil to smooth the way in or to try a different position. But nothing had worked.

Rowan had asked if she missed it. “Only sometimes,” she replied.

“Have you been back since...?”

“No.”

“It’s far to travel.”

“It is.”

He didn’t respond.

“I couldn’t believe I walked all the way from the Gulch to Woods Rest. Later, when Ladi showed me on a map where I was, I couldn’t believe it. Woods Rest is the nearest town to the cabin where—” She stopped. “You probably know... I mean, you... um, never mind.” What was she thinking? Poor Rowan. Just because he’d been friends with Larch didn’t mean he knew about the “romantic” cabin in the woods where Larch and his brothers brought their victims.

Rowan picked at a piece of orange fruit on the corner of his biscuit.

“It feels like we’ve walked that far today,” Jane said to change the subject.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“And by ‘there’ you mean... Sunshine’s den?” Jane asked hopefully.

“The bottom of the climb up to it.”

“Right.” Jane had another bite of her biscuit and kept her groan inside.