Gideon slowly nodded along, unable to fight the dragon’s wisdom. Perhaps Alijah’s fate is beyond us. He has wronged so many, some powerful enough that we could not stop them from killing him if we tried. I suppose our place is here, guarding the doorway. We need to save the tree or there’s no point in… His words trailed away as he watched Ilargo’s head rise from the ground, his gaze distant. So complex and layered was the mind of a dragon that Gideon had to accept the fact that his companion could think through multiple scenarios at once, while his capacity could only cope with one of them at a time. What is it? he asked.
Ilargo looked down at him. There is another way to separate the minds of Rider and dragon, he explained ominously. We have experienced it first-hand.
Gideon saw the green image in the dragon’s mind. Crissalith? he queried, recalling the crystals well.
It is the only thing I have ever known that could sever our bond, Ilargo went on. If we could use it against Alijah, Malliath’s influence would be wiped away.
I agree, Gideon said, his tone matching his disheartened demeanour, but you’re forgetting the most important fact about Crissalith: it’s all gone.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. I forget nothing.
Gideon saw his companion’s thoughts as if they were his own and, with them, came a new spark of hope.
33
Why We’re Here
On the dawn of the third day, Asher and Doran crossed the snowy plains in sight of the sprawling camp. Cutting through the air overhead, Avandriell soared and dived, still too young and fearful to venture into the heavens above. The ranger could feel her elation upon spotting Athis and Ilargo in the distance.
As their approach advanced, every able dwarf either rose to their feet or stopped what they were doing to face their War Mason. It was a great sign of respect for Doran, one Asher had feared his friend would never gain from his kin, a people notorious for having heads as thick as stone, long memories, and grudges that bore roots.
Asher turned to look down at Doran. He didn’t envy what lay ahead of him, but he was happy for him. He deserved a second chance and the children of the mountain sorely needed a king such as him.
After receiving a grand return from the dwarves, the pair were stopped in their tracks by Galanör. The elf cut a lithe figure, his navy cloak flowing out beside him.
“It is done?” His words were carried in a grave tone to match his expression.
Asher glanced at Doran before responding. “It is.”
Galanör nodded slowly. “The world has lost a fine man and The Rebellion a fine warrior. Russell Maybury will remain in my thoughts always.”
“An’ ours, lad,” Doran agreed.
Galanör took a breath. “I will leave you here. I am to spend some more time amongst the wounded.”
Asher squeezed the elf’s shoulder and moved aside to let him go. Only a moment later they were met by Sir Ruban, who relayed King Vighon’s request to join them in the council’s tent. Avandriell glided down to pad alongside her companion and hear the captain’s brief report concerning Adan’Karth’s unusual injury. The news perturbed ranger and dragon alike.
Entering the council’s tent, Asher acknowledged the familiar faces but, after discovering the Drake resting by the far wall, he moved past them to crouch by Adan’s side. He lay curled up on a cot, his body draped in blankets and furs. Words, barely a whisper, escaped his lips in a steady stream while his eyelids fluttered incessantly.
The ranger tried to make sense of it but Doran’s recounting dominated the tent. A few kind words were said as those who knew Russell offered something close to a prayer. A moment of silence was held for him, a moment Asher used to inspect the injury to Adan’s hand. Sir Ruban’s description hadn’t done it justice. Turning it over to examine the palm as well, he could see the extraordinary bark had taken over his whole hand. It was also just as soft as his skin, making it all the more unnatural.
Avandriell came up by his side and gave Adan’s hand a sniff. “What do you make of it?” he asked in a hushed tone. The dragon tilted her head inquisitively before giving it a lick. Outside of her curiosity, he sensed nothing more from her. “Stay with him,” he said, stroking the scales on top of her head.
Returning to the central table, Asher was immediately greeted by Reyna. Whether he wanted her to or not, she gave the ranger a hug, embracing him with her strong arms.
Looking up at him with her emerald eyes, she said, “I am sorry you have lost Russell. I know you were good friends with a rich history. Perhaps you could honour him one day and tell me of his life.”
Asher managed a smile. “I would like that.”
Nathaniel patted him on the arm before squeezing his muscle. “You are a good friend. Both of you,” he added, taking Doran in.
The son of Dorain nodded with a sober expression. “An’ what has happened in our absence?” he asked, looking to Adan’Karth.
Vighon rested both of his hands on the table and glanced over the rough map that had been laid out using various materials. “We have made little to no progress,” he reported gravely. “We entered the realm of magic and…” The king gave half a shrug as if he could go no further.
“Adan touched the tree,” Gideon continued in his stead. “I believe he was trying to talk to it. None of us can explain exactly what happened next but, it seems, the tree tried to… absorb him.”
“Absorb ’im?” Doran echoed. “Ye mean to say it tried to eat ’im like some Mud Slug?”
“We can’t say,”
