Chapter 16: Respiration

  For the next hour, the group walked beneath the setting sun. Luckily, no more sheoldrites sprung death clouds above them or summoned small armies of fanatics to slice them apart. All that threatened them was the icy wind that blew across the plains from the snowy tips of the mountains they approached. The ground beneath them gradually shifted from soft grass towards rubble and rock as they neared the mountain side.

  A secret oath of silence kept them to themselves while they walked. For the most part, they were too busy wrapping their minds around what just happened. While Taenith retreated into himself to think about the power he’d gained and lost so quickly, Tex concerned herself with the journey ahead, and with the draconian who should have been dead.

  “Take the first watch with me tonight,” she nudged Taenith, who was busy staring out into space. A melancholy aura surrounded him ever since he relinquished the mace to her. Despite his mind numbed phase, he nodded in agreement. And after about ten more minutes of silent walking, the four came to halt at the base of the mountain.

  “So do you really think we’ll find what we’re looking for?” Han asked.

  “Unless Jakob felt like hiking, we should be fine,” she said.

  Han looked up the mountain trail. Weeds and several sizable rocks covered a majority of the ill-traveled path. “Well it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in ages, so that’s a plus.”

  “Just watch your steps. The ground gets looser the higher up we get,” Tex said. Stray rocks bounced off her metal boots as she broke in the old abandoned trail. The others stuck close behind her initially. But the further they climbed, the more spread out they became. And soon, Taenith found himself at the end of the group, with Han just barely ahead of him.

  Deciding he was sick of the awkward silence, Han glanced back at the draconian. His scaley features were hard to read, not unlike they usually were. But this time he knew something was up. At least, the mopey trudging along told him as much.

  “How you holding up?” he asked.

  Taenith slowly looked up from the dirt. Though he had recovered from the chaos magic he absorbed earlier, the whites of his eyes were conquered by a red sea of contempt. The sight almost frightened Han to the point he nearly forgot who he was looking at. Just like in the tower only days ago.

  “I’m fine,” Taenith muttered shortly.

  “Huh, well you don’t look like it.” Han retorted.

  Taenith blinked before throwing a glance to Tex. He both looked forward to and cringed at the idea of talking to her about the mace. It would be at least another hour of walking until they stopped for the night. Not enough time for him to rally his thoughts together.

  Han sighed and slowed down to walk alongside him. “That… weapon. You liked the power, right?”

  For a moment Taenith didn’t respond. Instead, he listened to the blistering winds that kissed his warm scales. The world was almost numb to him before. But now…it was deafening. Then, with a sigh, he spoke, “For once… I was able to protect someone. All my life,” his throat tightened, “I’ve always been the one to watch others die. That… mace. It gave me a chance to do something about it.”

  Han gave a fake smirk. He knew the feeling of helplessness all too well. To watch one’s family and people killed in one night, especially as a young child, was something that could scar even a mighty draconian. But knowing that, why bother saving the ones taking all of that away?

  “You had the chance to kill the apostle in Oakheart that night. And the demon too. Why spare them if you hate them so much?”

  A brief chill climbed up Taenith’s spine. His thoughts trailed to the father of that child. Why had he spared him? The father was a murder, a veteran one at that. And his son would only grow up to be yet another. That much was almost guaranteed. But even still. Was it for him to decide the boy's fate? And if he killed the father, surely he'd grow up hating his kind even more.

  "The boy was there."

  Han nodded. "And the demon?"

  Taenith paused, remembering his conversation with Tex down in the armory. But neither the demon nor the apostle cared to change. So why did his heart tell him to spare them?

  Taenith kneaded his temple before running a hand along the rough surface of one of his horns as he desperately searched for an answer. And Han could see his turmoil. There was so much hate in Taenith’s heart, and yet, he had given those who promised to take everything away from him a second chance.

  “Do you really think the apostles would be doing all of this if they didn’t think it was righteous?” Tex’s words echoed in his mind.

  “If it weren’t for Lunas. If it weren’t for the gods. Maybe that apostle. That… sheoldrite. They could have lived normal lives,” Taenith muttered. His words were jumbled, but it was the best he could express himself and his chaotic thoughts.

  “But that doesn’t excuse their actions…” his own thoughts spat back to him.

  Han nearly rebutted, but yelped and jumped back in shock as Taenith suddenly pounded his wings and shot into the air, heading towards the top of the mountain. Tex and Grizzel looked up as he disappeared over the rocks.

  “Where’s he off to?” Grizzel turned and asked.

  Han took a deep breath, his heart racing for a moment before he caught his nerves. “Uh, he’s just taking a breather.”

  ---

  Powerful gusts of wind and snow pushed against Taenith as he rose above the massive wall of ice and stone. Wiping slush from his hot arms, he eyed a large flat patch of snow and touched down. His feet sank into the matted white bed until he found a sufficient space to sit. He took a moment to look over the plains, ignoring the chill that ate away at his warm flesh. From the point he sat, he could see the majority of his tiny world. In the distance there was the small town of Woodhurst. Even closer was Oakheart and its surrounding forests. No matter how high he was, however, he failed to see the once great walls of his people’s city. That spectacle was locked behind the horizon, as if Eotera itself wanted to hide its corpse.

  The splash of fading colors choked him as the bright star illuminating the day hid behind the distant trees, allowing a thin veil of darkness to creep over his shoulders and the world surrounding him. In what felt like a few short minutes, it had already sprinted across the mountain and sky. The day struggled to fight back as the night feasted upon it like a ravenous creature, devouring it into nothing. Soon, all that remained was the fading yellow peaking over the tops of the furthest trees. Even then, its futile resistance was quickly crushed beneath the weight of shadow. Even the moonlight, all powerful and ever-encompassing, was conquered by the black clouds beneath it.

  Taenith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was a strange sensation, the night. Unlike the day, which made all the horrors of the world present and glorified, the darkness laid rest to them. For a moment, just one moment, the world was allowed peace.

  When he opened his eyes, he could see several bright stars struggling to break through the shroud in the sky. In spite of their struggle, the clouds tugged evermore tightly together, stamping out the dwindling light. Releasing a puff of smoky hot air, Taenith stood up from his snowy bed of solitude and patted himself free of its chill. A quick blast of fire from his maw freed him from the rest.

  While he stood there, breathing in the frigid mountain air, a battle raged in Taenith’s mind. The fateful night where he slaughtered the apostle who killed his mother raged back at him. He hadn’t hesitated to kill him then. So why now? Why should they be granted mercy when their victims received none?

  Letting out a shrilling shout, Taenith blasted another wave of fire into the cold air, sending into the night a steaming echo that thundered like a dragon’s. The fire scalded the mountain top, rending the ground around him back to stone. Once the last flame left his dry throat, he fell to the ground, taking deep breaths while his head dizzied from the strain he’d just put on himself.

  Sitting there and staring into the rubble, his thoughts shifted to the group he had been traveling with, and where they were going. Han, Tex, and even Grizzel. Before a few days ago he’d never known anyone as well as them. Yet they were still there, tolerating his existence as if it were normal. As if anything he was was normal.

  Maybe that friendship had made him weak.

  “You should have killed them,” a serpentine voice slithered at the back of his mind.

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  Taenith rubbed his throbbing head.

  “I know,” he responded, his voice a murmur.

  “The demon tried to kill Tex. The one you-”

  “I know!” Taenith shouted, slamming his fist into the ground.

  Silence passed between himself and his thoughts for a few minutes after that. Only the soft sound of wind gusting over his form and the distant howlings of wolves interrupted the blissful respite.

  “Have you forgotten?... The crimes of those who enforced their will…” his thoughts chimed in after he had taken several deep breaths to calm himself.

  “No,” Taenith’s clenched jaw trembled, and he released a final, heavy sigh. “... But I will not forget who led them. Not anymore.”

  What seemed to be hours passed after that. His thoughts returned to a void while he laid against the cold ground, drifting in and out of consciousness from the sheer exhaustion of the day. Then, after he felt relieved enough from his stress, and after realizing he needed to be back for the first night shift, he stood up. Stretching his back, he extended his wings and stepped towards the edge of the mountain. A brief pang of nervousness ran down his spine when he realized just how far up he’d really gone. In his brief rage, he’d bolted up the mountainside without fully grasping the distance. Hundreds of feet laid below him. Sucking in a deep breath, he took a hesitant step forward and glided down the mountainside. Flakes of snow and screaming nerves racked against him as he plummeted down to the old trail. Consuming night blinded him while he searched for the group to no avail. Seeing no sign of torches or fire, Taenith circled further up the path. After several minutes, he finally noticed a large gaping hole in the mountainside. Upon further inspection, he discerned a small fire struggling to stay alive amidst the strong glacial winds that pounded against it. Next to the dwindling flame was Tex, casually stoking the flame with a sword.

  He hesitated for a moment, watching as she tapped the blade against the kindling. With her subtle motions, the flames increased and enveloped more of the cold bodies resting under its warmth. Though her face was hidden from the distance between them, he felt a pit of guilt engulf his stomach. She wanted to talk to him, and he’d gone out of his way, if only for an hour, to avoid her. Sighing, he dove to the ground and pounded against the snow-glazed dirt. Without even a flicker of surprise, she looked at him and nodded.

  Taenith approached the flame and sat across from her. Her face was stoic and spattered in dried blood and magical residue.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  Taenith craned his neck and looked at the two sleeping nearby. Grizzel snored obnoxiously with his mace set aside in the dirt while Han covered himself in whatever spare pieces of cloth he could find.

  “I needed to clear my thoughts,” Taenith said, stretching his cold wings. The fire before them crackled and burst, sending a small ember onto Taenith’s forearm. He patted his arm before thinking of an adequate response.

  “Don’t we all?” Tex asked, stabbing her steaming sword into the base of the ash pile that had built up beneath the smoldering wood. She watched as the draconian’s eyes darted from the innards of the caves and to the stars of the skies outside the maw they resided in.

  The two sat in silence for a moment before a sudden gust of wind whipped itself against the cave. The fire’s flames violently spat into the air and onto the cold stone floor beneath them. Once the weather settled, the fire lay bare with only a few charred coals remaining.

  “Wonderful,” Tex sighed. In only a few moments, the warmth from the fire had been taken over by nipping chills. Even with his draconic blood, he could feel the cold biting against his back and wings. Taenith rubbed his claws against his bare forearms.

  “Aren’t you part dragon?” she huffed. "Breathe some fire or something."

  Kneeling over the pit, he choked up a small flame to rekindle the half burnt twigs. His throat was definitely sore from overuse, but it was enough for a simple campfire.

  “Thanks,” Tex said as heat once again sank into her form. Taking the moment, she began untying the metallic breastplate and pauldrons of her armor.

  “Wish I had you around sooner,” she said. “Having an instant fire starter makes this shit a hell of a lot easier.”

  As Tex lifted the steel piece up over her shoulders, Taenith’s mind numbed and he found himself staring. Though her cloth shirt and the darkness surrounding her tried to hide her body away, he could see the outlines of her muscles and the many scars that painted her flesh. Her body was like a living canvas of past wars and battles. Once she laid the majority of her chest piece onto the ground next to her, she noticed the draconian’s lingering gaze and stopped.

  “Raised in a cave or not, have some manners,” she gave a deadpan stare.

  A surge of heat filled Taenith’s features. “Sorry,” he muttered before looking down at his dirtied claws, wondering when the last time he had bathed was. It’d certainly been more than a week, especially since water was a rare commodity on the plains. Let alone for an outcast like him. He hoped his scales didn’t smell…

  Tex unloaded the rest of her plate mail, then unwrapped the belts covering her waist and set them aside with her other gear.

  “You know, after all these years you’d think I’d bring a spare,” she chuckled.

  Taenith lifted his eyes to her. Seeing her form under the protection of simple cloth was strange. Though, it was nice to know she had some humanity underneath all that armor.

  “A spare?” Taenith asked.

  Tex inched near the fire and put her hands over its dwindling sparks. “That black rain ruined my blanket.”

  “Oh. Right,” Taenith muttered. He hadn’t even thought about it, but everything he carried in his own bag was probably ruined as well. A quick glance as he removed it from his back was enough to confirm this. “Seems our friend ruined mine too,” he said.

  “Well, you have giant wings and a body resistant to the cold. You don’t exactly need one,” she teased.

  Taenith scoffed, trying to think of a witty response. “And… you have a magical old man.”

  “Was that… a joke?” Tex asked.

  “I don’t know. Did it work?”

  Tex paused before letting out a soft laugh.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Taenith replied.

  “No” she shook her head. “I’ve just never heard a draconian make a joke before.”

  Taenith huffed, glimpsing into the crackling fire for a few brief moments before his gaze lingered to the demonic mace at Tex’s side. “What would he say? About today?”

  “Sham?” she asked, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye.

  Taenith nodded.

  “Well. He certainly knows you used it. Every fiend or magic user on this continent would’ve sensed it.”

  Feeling his chest grow heavy, Taenith stretched his back, instinctively flapping his wings. This caused a small gust of wind to blow past his legs and into the fire, killing it once more.

  “Nice job,” Tex rolled her eyes.

  Taenith attempted to summon another flame, but his throat choked to a dry cough. “Sorry... If you wanted, I could use the mace to-”

  “No. It’s fine,” she said, folding her arms.

  Her attention was so trained on the dwindling embers that she nearly jumped when Taenith sat down next to her, wrapping one of his wings over her body to protect her exposed skin from the oncoming cold. The contact made him uneasy for a moment, but that quickly subsided. His attention was whisked elsewhere - to the mace of Icarus, and its boney hilt pricking into his thigh.

  Tex flinched as his wing wrapped over her. Even in the freezing temperatures, a steady heat rose from his body and banished the cold from her own.

  Taenith smirked as he caught a glimpse of red rising from her cheeks. Keeping her pride in mind, he focused his attention on the night just outside the cave entrance.

  While Taenith pondered whether she’d kill him for the gesture, Tex questioned if she was growing soft for letting him.

  They sat in silence, watching the stars while listening to the orchestral wind pounding against the mountainside. It was the first time in years Taenith listened to the night, and heard something other than the howls of wolves and the shouts of their prey.

  “Can you keep a secret?” Taenith asked, breaking the silence.

  Tex brushed her hair back and looked up to his looming maw. For a moment, she felt it hard not to be intimidated by his powerful presence, even if he was an amateur.

  “That depends on the secret,” she muttered.

  Taenith paused and the weight of the demonic mace felt more pronounced at his side. Even through the fabric protecting it, it beckoned for his flesh.

  “When I held it. It felt right. Like I was meant to have it. But…” he paused, not sure of how to explain something as insane as the voices he heard in that moment. “There was this voice.”

  Tex raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “It was like someone was talking to me, telling me to kill the sheoldrite and the others.”

  “This voice. What did it sound like?” she asked.

  “Hard to describe. Gruff. Dark. I’ve never talked to a dragon, but if I had to imagine what one would sound like, that would be it.”

  Tex scratched her chin. “Hmm... Maybe you’re cursed,” she teased.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  Tex nudged his side. “It was a joke.”

  “Oh…” he said.

  Tex chuckled. “I wouldn't worry. It was probably just the mace playing tricks on you. So don’t touch it again. Or, I’ll stab you.” she scowled.

  “Is that a joke?” he asked.

  “Let’s not find out,” she gave a curt smile.

  “You humans are strange,” Taenith muttered.

  Tex laughed.

  “What?” Taenith asked.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, resting against him. Taenith flinched at the sudden contact, but stowed his anxieties, allowing her rosy face to thaw under his heat… to put her sword and armor and duties to rest. To cast away the past, and embrace a new friendship. One worth embracing.