Dusk settled over the hill east of Sidastra. For those in the city the day would be winding down, but for Holt it had just begun.
He stood side by side with Ash, one hand running absentmindedly down the dragon’s side. Having had time to observe Ash without running or fighting for their lives, Holt was confident that the dragon’s growth had slowed. Given what Brode had theorized about it that might only be a good thing. Now the extreme danger had passed, Ash could develop normally. Or so Holt hoped.
Ash remained lean and scrappy for a dragon no matter how much they fed him. Not that he could judge. Strong he might be now himself, but his clothes still hung from his own wiry frame as they always had. He just wore finer cloth now.
They had packed light: a sleeping roll, a simple wet stone, flint and a supply of tinder, one pot, one pan and other basic cooking supplies. A special case had been made to bring herbs and spices that might best suit venison or other game he wished to test on Ash – bay leaves, juniper berries, rosemary, aromatic savory, and sweet marjoram. And he had brought extra salt. He was not going to be caught cooking without salt. And of course, he had the recipe book. That he would ensure made it everywhere, even through the flames of the fire flight’s domain if needed.
He was ready. Only the question of where to go remained.
Shortly after the light began to fade, Pyra circled overhead and landed to join them. Talia got down, holding packages of her own as though she had decided to travel with him. The shape and size of one made its contents
clear but the smaller one was more intriguing. Without a word, she unwrapped the smaller one first, revealing a simple lockbox and held it before her in some reverence.
“I can’t come with you, but… if you have time on your way to wherever it is…”
“I’ll make time,” Holt said, realizing what this was. He took Brode’s remains as delicately as holding a newborn. Talia handed over the key next, already on a chain which Holt slung over his neck. “Ash and I will find the place.”
She brought over the other sword-like bundle. Sure enough, it was Brode’s green blade.
“Take it,” she said.
Holt reached out for it, but his fingers fumbled.
“Go on,” she urged, “it will serve you better than a normal sword, even if it’s not attuned to lunar magic. I don’t see how else you’ll get a blade of your own without joining the Order.”
Holt took it. Much longer than a normal sword, he would have to get used to its reach, but Talia was right. He wouldn’t have to worry about sharpening this nor was it likely to break even if he sliced through an abomination.
“He’d probably groan at the thought of me clumsily handling it.”
Talia grunted in such a good impersonation of Brode’s old bark that he couldn’t help but grin.
“Thank you, Talia. I wish I could stay but this is so important, and I’ll visit if we can…” he trailed off as guilt and pity suddenly welled on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“I… Holt…” she trailed off as Pyra rumbled and Holt assumed some words passed between them. Talia breathed hard then faced him again with a resolved if guilty expression. “You can’t come back. Once you leave Feorlen, that’s it. At least for now.”
An icy feeling crept up his spine. “What do you mean?”
“I had to uphold your banishment,” she said. “The curia insisted on it.
They didn’t want to invite further unrest by having you go unpunished.” “So, what you said to those Champions—”
“Was true,” she hastened to say, “when I told them. Once I found out you were leaving, I managed to get the curia to hold off until you left. But once you go—”
He raised a hand. “I understand.” And he did. The news did not impact him like it should. Perhaps it was because he was leaving anyway; perhaps because his old life was quickly becoming some distant memory, a version of himself he hardly recognized, standing over a basin scrubbing dishes.
The dragon bond thumped in his soul. “Are you sad, boy?”
“I’m fine,” he said, patting the dragon down. “I suppose I am just Holt, now. But I’ll always be a Cook at heart.”
“And a rider,” Talia said.
He nodded. “A dragon rider and a Cook.”
“I’m certain I can have it revoked eventually,” she said fiercely. “It will just take time.”
“Let’s make it through the coming years first. I’m sure you’ll be a good queen. And I’ll send word of your uncle if I come across anything.”
“Thank you.”
He gulped. This was turning out to be a lot harder than he had anticipated. “It would be better if you could come with us.”
“It would be better if you could stay.”
There seemed nothing left to do but hug her, and so the commoner embraced the queen. Both outcasts from the Order. Both bringing chaos in their way, but both knowing they had made the right choices. Neither had regrets.
“Goodbye, Princess.” “Goodbye, pot boy.”
She sniffed and did something he hadn’t been prepared for. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. As she pulled away, Holt felt the spot burn, though that might have been his skin flushing bright red. Quickly he made for Pyra next.
“Didn’t think we’d leave without embarrassing you, did you?” He wrapped his arms around the purple dragon’s neck. Pyra’s throat rumbled with heat and laughter and her long neck snaked down around him.
“Farewell, little one. I shall miss your cooking.”
Ash said his goodbyes next. He allowed Talia to hug him then padded over to Pyra who nipped him affectionately on the snout. The two dragons then pressed their heads together, rippled their wings and swept their tails across the grass.
Talia jumped up onto Pyra and with a final roar and a wave, they took off west, heading back to their city.
Holt allowed himself a moment before strapping Brode’s sword onto his back, secured the lock box into his pack, then mounted Ash.
“At least we have somewhere to start.”
“We owe it to Brode to honor his memory.”
Holt recited again the vague details of where Brode had buried Erdra. “A lonely hill on the road east from Athra.”
He had no concept of how far that was. East of Athra was a lot of land to cover.
“So long as we’re together, I won’t be afraid.”
“Same. You ready?”
“Ready.”
“My eyes for your eyes.”
“Your skin for my skin.”
“My world for your world,” they said together.
And with the dying light behind them, they took off. A pot boy and his dragon with the world before them; all its dangers and all its wonders. A great weight had been placed on their shoulders, but it was a burden they could lift together.
