They re-entered the woods in the morning and headed east. It wasn’t an easy road. Pyra was so large that she couldn’t fit between close growing trunks meaning they had to often double back and seek alternative routes. Her wing was still injured; not that Brode would let her fly by day even if she was fighting fit.
At least in the light of day the trees did not seem so menacing. Most looked normal, save for the odd shrunken trunk with hollowed, rotting centers and sagging branches. Holt wrinkled his nose as the foul smell grew heavier in the already thick air. He noticed that a bile-green bark grew upon the sick trees, reminding him of the skin of the blacksmith’s daughter.
He lingered too long looking at a sick tree before noticing he had fallen behind. He quickened his pace to catch up but was sure Talia had noticed him lagging.
“What do you know of these woods?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” Holt said. “Only that most folk avoid them. Mr. Hunter always said he’d rather come back with no kill than have to set foot in here.”
“The Foresters and Jacks have a hard life working here.”
Holt had never met a Forester and knew little of them. He knew that Jacks worked in lumber mills, but he’d never been to one of those either.
“It’s the blight isn’t it?”
Talia nodded. “The Forest of Feorlen used to span from the mountains of the Red Range in the east to the borders of the Crag’s territory. Yet the blight took hold – likely during an incursion centuries ago. The rot spread.
Sections were cleared and burned but a trace of that dark poison always survived. It might all rot, and the scourge will win even if the last bug is slain.”
She spoke as if the scourge had already won.
“Since my grandfather’s time it’s been called the Withering Woods instead.”
“Well,” Holt began, attempting to brighten the mood, “maybe if the last bug is defeated the blight will end with it.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You’re quite a hopeful person, aren’t you?”
Holt considered his response. He’d never thought of himself as optimistic, in fact he’d often lamented how his life was charted for him with little room for him to make his own bearings. And he worried about Ash’s future and the fate of his father constantly. But compared to Talia’s current dejection, he supposed he was a burst of sunshine.
“We don’t know tomorrow, so it may always be brighter.” “Another piece of wisdom from your father?”
“From my mother,” Holt said. It was one of the few memories he still held intact of her. “I was very young, and very sick and somehow I’d broken my favorite toy dragon.”
“Oh, I’d have thought the world was ending too,” Talia said.
Holt took it for a joke and laughed softly. “Yes, well I certainly did. Anyway, she said that and the next morning I found a new toy waiting for me on the kitchen table.”
“That’s a sweet memory, Holt.”
Then, quick as a flash, she jumped high over a fallen tree that was in their way. That was fine for her and her Ascendant body. Holt didn’t want to draw on magic for trivial reasons, so he stepped around the obstacle instead.
He found Talia staring back at the fallen tree as though it had personally done her harm.
“My brother wanted to clear the forest of the remaining blight.” She spoke in a hurry as though the words were breaking from a dam. “A concerted effort. He said he’d fix the woods and then have acorns planted to expand it. It was something we both urged father to do but he was too obsessed with his war. And Leofric never even got a chance.”
Holt stepped closer. “Ash’s magic removed the blight from Mr. Smith’s daughter. Maybe he can help the trees too.” He lifted one hand, intending to place it on her shoulder as a gesture of comfort – something any friend might do – but he faltered and lowered it awkwardly.
She was the princess. He was the servant. Her subject, whatever technicalities of oaths might say. Despite the change in circumstance, some habits are too ingrained.
Talia had the grace to say nothing of his fumble. Perhaps she found it as strange to be conversing so casually with one so low of station as he found it surreal to be speaking to her.
She smiled weakly. “Well, that would be something.” Then she took her leave, running to catch up with Pyra.
Holt didn’t feel like running after her. She didn’t seem to want to talk about her father or brother. She rarely did.
That night, as he and Talia were collecting wood for the fire, Brode announced he would go hunt for their meal. As fallen branches weren’t hard to come by here, they gathered the firewood in record time, leaving Holt and Talia alone with the dragons.
She was content to quietly sit on the far side of the fire with Pyra. Her rider blade lay beside her, huge, red and deadly. Despite his weariness, Holt felt restless. He tried to meditate but couldn’t.
He needed some activity. Usually he just trained with Brode, but he’d never trained with Talia. Maybe the interaction would help break down the barriers between them.
Deciding it couldn’t hurt to ask, he got up, picked up the blunted training swords, and moved to the other side of the fire. Talia watched him approach with her arms folded.
“Come on,” Holt said, “let’s spar.”
“Master Brode should be the one who trains you—” “I mean a real spar.”
That should get her attention, he thought.
Talia smirked. When he remained serious, she looked at him as though he were ill.
“Really? You want to fight me?”
“Why not?” He looked at her defiantly. She would of course outmanoeuvre him completely. The odds were as equally matched as a cat against a three-legged mouse.
up.
Pyra rumbled a laugh and nudged Talia. The princess shrugged and got
“It’s you who’ll be sore,” she said.
Holt passed her one of the swords. They moved to as open a space as
they could find amongst the leaves, moss and roots, and the dragons followed them silently. He’d barely taken his ready position when Talia came at him in a whirl of red hair and steel. She struck and left his side stinging.
Holt gasped and clutched at his side. “I wasn’t even ready.” “I’m an Ascendant. Do you want me to slow down for you?” Holt grumbled. What had compelled him to do this again? “No,” he said. “Come on.”
Each turn of blows went predictably bad for him. At last he stepped back too hastily, tripped on the root of a tree, and collapsed onto his backside. Talia didn’t even come to help him up.
“At least she didn’t hit you that time,” Ash said by way of encouragement.
Holt cleared his throat and got up. This seemed to be some test of will and one he wouldn’t lose. He wouldn’t ask her to go easy on him.
A few more rounds passed.
“You sure you don’t want me to ease off?” Holt gritted his teeth. “I’m sure.”
She did anyway. She absolutely moved slower than she was capable of in their next bout. Holt was able to step in close this time, although he lost his footing on the damp, leafy earth, and missed his attack. She slapped the back of his calf with the flat of her blade, although far softer than her earlier blows had been.
“I said don’t go easy on me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said in a level voice.
“Really? You hardly held back before. I’m aching.” He clenched his jaw after that, frustrated that he’d let it slip he was suffering.
“You’re not a natural at sword craft,” she said, still in that measured tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you lack innate talent.” “I’m still learning!”
“Your footwork. It’s not the best. It’s not even good. That’s why you’re losing balance. I could just let you fall over and win that way.”
“I’ll get better.”
“Some people never do.”
Holt’s frustration boiled over. “Do you really dislike me so much? Are Ash and I still such a burden to you on this journey? We saved your life at Midbell, remember. Or was I just a servant doing my job?”
She gave him a cool look. “If I really wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have pulled my hits. Master Brode and I could break your bones like twigs if we didn’t hold back. So no, I’m not trying to hurt you, Holt.”
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Of course, she had been holding back the entire time. She had to for his own sake.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “Didn’t hear that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said clearly.
“That’s all right.” She twirled her sword in her hand, a flourish Holt had yet to perfect but Brode told him it was useless in combat anyway. Once again, she stared at him intently.
“You do that a lot,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.
“Look at me like… that.” He gesticulated by way of clarification. It seemed to clarify nothing for her. “That sour look. Like you want to punch me or something.”
She blinked and looked quite taken aback.
“I feel like you’re the one who doesn’t like me.”
“Me?” Holt said confused. He didn’t dislike Talia. He found it irksome that she wanted to keep her distance despite what they were going through. She could help him learn but kept to herself instead. Rather than congratulate him on his progress she would roll her eyes and make a smarmy remark, as if anyone expected Ash and him to take on the incursion alone. He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“I think you need to take that chip off your shoulder,” she said.
She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t stern. In fact, she was exasperatingly cool, which made Holt feel all the more confused and frustrated that he was the one getting worked up.
“Chip off my—”
“Yes, you seem to think I have it in for you. Is it because you think I look down on everyone else? Trample the servants under my boot?”
“No—” Holt tried to start.
“Because not all of us are like that.” Her façade started to breakdown. “All the nobles and riders, I mean. Some are. But way less than you think and certainly not me. If you’re thinking about what I said as we left the Crag—”
“That Ash and I should try ‘not to slow you down.’”
“I was just telling the truth.” She stomped toward him, her eyes reflecting the campfire. Or was that her magic flaring? “The two of you were useless. We were in a horrible position – as if we’re hardly better off now. And how was I supposed to know you’d advance this fast and have, what, anti-blight magic?”
“Which seems like a good thing to me. But instead of trying to help or even just be encouraging, you just scowl at me.”
Talia balled her fists and screwed up her face before the words burst from her.
“I’ve been jealous. There. Are you happy?”
Holt wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it wasn’t this. Princess Talia. Princess Talia was jealous of him.
“W-what?”
She sighed and ran her hands down her face. “It’s incredible what you and Ash have achieved so quickly. Really it is. And that’s only a good thing. But… oh, I don’t know… it just feels unfair… I suppose. I spent my whole life fighting to become a rider. Mother and I had to pull out every trick to get my father, the court, and the riders themselves to allow it. Deliberately screwing up or insulting every marriage candidate I was forced to meet. Hoping I could make a real difference by defending Feorlen from the scourge while my brother handled the rest. That was how things were supposed to go.”
She paced now, waving her arms at every word. That dam of emotion inside her had well and truly burst.
“And then I make it to the Order. And they finally let me in. And I train every day and read every scroll, and everyone is impressed that I advance to Ascendant so quickly. But I wasn’t happy. I wanted more. Needed more to feel like I’d earned my place and show them it was the right thing to let me in. And then you just show up and do it all in about three weeks.”
“I’ve not exactly done it on purpose,” Holt said sheepishly.
“Exactly!” Talia preached to the heavens. “You don’t even mean it to happen and the advancements come in leaps and bounds. Your bond with Ash is rock solid already. You stole a dragon egg and got away with it!”
Her shoulders slumped then.
“So yes, I’ve been jealous of you. Is that so hard to understand?”
Holt still felt stunned. Scrambling for words he said, “It just always seemed to me like you had everything. And, well, many of higher rank treat those beneath them poorly.”
She nodded slowly, and the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lips. “So you decided I was the same?”
“I didn’t think much on it, if I’m honest.” “No, you didn’t. Hence the chip.”
Most of the fight went out of her then and she took a seat right there on the leaves.
“You broke all the rules,” she continued. “You still break the rules, or what we thought were the rules. You and Ash—” Something stopped her. She seemed to want to say more but couldn’t.
Holt had frozen, unsure what to do. Then it seemed Talia was fighting back tears.
Pyra puffed up, raising her great body off the earth and headed their way.
“It’s okay, girl,” Talia sniffed.
Right there, surrounded by broken leaves and with mud on her clothes, Talia wasn’t a princess. She wasn’t even a rider. She was just a girl, a person, and barely older than Holt when it came down to it. All that Brode had said to Holt made sense to him now.
He gulped and moved to kneel beside her, all ingrained propriety forgotten.
He took her hand.
“I’m sorry. I knew what you were going through, but I never really understood it.”
“I’m sorry too. I could have handled it better. I just wonder whether, if I had advanced like you have; if Pyra and I had – well, it’s too late now.”
Holt had an inkling as to what she meant. “We can still save the kingdom.”
“Not that,” she said. “I mean yes, but I meant it’s too late for my brother or father. I could have saved them both, if I had been with them. But I wasn’t. I’m never where I should be. It’s my fault.”
Holt was stunned. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
A regal presence entered his mind. “But she does anyway, little one,”
Pyra said. “Only time will help, if it can.”
Talia hadn’t shed a tear. Strong to the end, she spoke with a sort of pride. “I’d give it all up, Holt. Every right, all my powers, every jewel and palace – right now, if I could get them back.”
Holt’s mind turned to that memory of his mother giving him the toy. Of the look of joy on his father’s face when he thought Holt was being taken to safety.
“I know you would.”
Talia seemed to wake up as if from a dream. She looked down, saw her hand in his, and looked him in the eye.
“Your hands are really rough,” she said. “So are yours.”
“I’m a dragon rider.”
Holt shrugged. “I’m a pot boy.”
She smirked. “Good one.” Then she punched him on the shoulder. His shoulder sang in pain, his breath left him in a shocked wheeze, and he went sprawling to the earth. She clearly had forgotten to pull that particular punch.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Talia said, swooping down on him.
Holt spat out some moss and wheezed as she turned him over. Before their talk he would have been mad or resentful – now he just laughed. Looking relieved, Talia sunk onto her knees, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her before.
Well, at least he could counter her strength one way.
He looked inwards to the bond, and to Ash’s bright core. As a trickle of magic filled his body he grinned and got up, raising a fist of his own. A light must have glowed in his eyes to indicate his use of magic, for Talia scrambled up and stepped back.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, half-laughing.
He decided he would dare. He broke the rules after all.
And he was just about to leap at her when a disapproving cough cut over everything.
Brode had returned. A dead deer lay at his feet.
Ash got up at once, stretched his neck and tail, and moved to sniff at the carcass.
“Having fun, are we?” Brode asked. Before either Holt or Talia could say anything, Brode continued. “Good,” he barked. “The pair of you are so serious all the time.”
Holt thought that rather rich coming from Brode the Brooding. Yet before either he or Talia could so much as share a shocked glance between them, Brode waved them over.
“Come, give me a hand with this beast, Master Cook. Talia you can probably make the fire larger tonight. Under this canopy I think we can risk some more light. The heat won’t go amiss either.”
Holt helped Brode in dressing the deer, although the old rider clearly knew what he was doing.
“I didn’t know they trained riders to do this?” Holt said.
“Long ago, they used to train all riders how to do this,” Brode said happily. Speaking of days gone by always brightened his mood. “Made sure to learn it myself. Silas never bothered.” He carried on for a while, contented in his grumbling until he glanced at Talia and Holt, shook his head and concluded, “Soft.”
Holt ignored him.
He had a haunch of venison to contend with. The weight of it would have been hard to manage but he drew a pinch of strength from Ash’s core and skewered the great slab of meat onto a stake for the fire. That would do for one of the dragons. He cut smaller steaks for the human members of the party.
It wasn’t like Pyra needed it spiced and no one else would mind too much about the taste so he reckoned a simple fry would do. They had some oil still from Midbell and there might be some mushrooms nearby that were good enough to eat. He left Talia in charge of turning the spit with strict instructions to keep the flames at an even heat across the meat. This would be a trifle for her. A fire rider’s skills would be invaluable in a kitchen, he thought. That done, he set off in search of edible fungi.
Ash as ever was fidgety around the food, unable to contain his eagerness for a feed. An echo of Ash’s anticipation flitted across the bond and Holt’s own mouth salivated. This escalated as the air filled with the
sweet roasting juices of the venison. By the time Holt returned from his mushroom hunt, the meat on the spit was ready.
He’d barely gotten the haunch off the wooden stake when Ash pounced on it.
“This is the best thing you’ve ever made,” Ash crooned. His delight was so intense that for a moment the bond glowed white hot again and Holt really could taste the meat as Ash did.
The most perfectly balanced – salted and caramelized on the outside, melt in your mouth – piece of meat he’d ever tasted. Every hit of the sweet juices was like honeyed wine.
Holt eyed Ash, thinking this reaction a bit over the top. It was only a lump of meat charred over the fire, after all.
“I think you’re just hungry,” Holt said.
Then it hit him again. A wave of power across the bond, it burned and beat like many trumpeters calling for battle. He looked across the bond and saw a sea of those motes of light swirling around the core.
Holt realized what this meant and grinned. “Master Brode, I think we’ve found Ash’s meat preference.”
