The sun shone brightly from its place in an ocean of pure blue, its light intensified by the desert sands. Seeing through the eyes of a dragon, nothing escaped Asher’s gaze. He looked out on a line of Riders as they awaited the arrival of another group, approaching from the south.
Thanks to Thessaleia’s memories bleeding through their bond, the ranger knew he was looking out on The Glimmer Lands, Erador’s most southern territory. He was instantly enthralled, curious as to what he was witnessing.
Thessaleia glanced to the side, giving Asher a good look at three other dragons. They were all watching their Riders as they met the southern strangers. The ranger’s curiosity peaked when that group came to stand at three times the height and width of the Riders. They possessed the features of humans, for the most part, and were well-muscled; easily noted by their scant clothing. Their size could only identify them as Giants, though Asher had never seen Giants like them, accustomed as he was to the lumbering behemoths that behaved in the manner of beasts and monsters.
The Giants that stood conversing with the Riders looked to have all the mannerisms of an ordinary person. The words that passed between the two groups were indistinct, but Asher knew Thessaleia was tense and ready to spring should the untrustworthy Giants prove violent.
As interesting as this had probably been, it felt wrong to Asher. This wasn’t their land and it wasn’t their time. They were taking on memories and experiences that would do little to aid them in the present.
Avandriell, he said, searching for his companion in the void. This is not our world.
It is all our world, Avandriell countered, her words and the strength of her voice taking the ranger by surprise.
Her words also brought an end to the memory. A flash of lightning tore through the desert, replacing the vast landscape and heat with the confines of West Fellion and a hammering rain. Asher was back in his own body, caught between the gates of the Graycoats’ fortress, as countless Arakesh poured in to take their pound of flesh.
Blindfolded, he raided the world for all it had, detecting every scent, hearing every breath, and feeling every raindrop against his skin. Blood spoiled the air and he tasted the hot liquid as it ran down the steel of his blade. While his every sense was more alive in the thrall of the Nightseye elixir, assassins were mounting at his feet, dead.
You have been stuck in the dirt all your life, soaking in blood. Avandriell’s voice expelled the memory, transporting Asher to the top of Syla’s Gate, where he had faced the wild Darkakin. You have been surrounded by enemies with no way forward but through the tip of your sword. Syla’s Gate crumbled beneath his feet and he landed on the high walls of Velia as Giants and Trolls assaulted the walls. You have suffered for those around you, forced to always sacrifice yourself for them. Asher saw himself plunge his broadsword into the eye of a Giant and follow it down to the ground, where a sea of Darkakin vied for his blood.
As the Giant slammed into the ground, however, he was suddenly sinking beneath the enchanted waters in one of the pools of Naius as Kaliban fell into ruin around him. We will soar over the realm, Avandriell promised. We will soar together. Erador, Illian, Ayda… all of Verda. You do not face the world alone anymore, nor your enemies. Now you have me.
Asher could feel the passion, love, and wrath, that formed the core of every dragon - a three-stranded cord that could not be broken. Avandriell was a warrior from an ancient time, her confidence gifted to her by a powerful mother and father. It was similar to his own, though his confidence was born of decades being honed in the shadows of Nightfall.
As he dwelled on that terrible place, a nightmare from his past, Avandriell broke through and brought light to the darkness. His tortuous lessons fell away and the sting of those memories faded, just as Malliath’s had. Piece by piece, she was renewing him, making him whole again.
Whether the ranger wanted to or not, his eyes opened to the real world and discovered a young dragon perched on his midriff. She was careful not to press down with her claws but there was nothing to be done about her weight, which was becoming considerable.
A slit of dawning light shone through his makeshift tent but he couldn’t take his sight from Avandriell’s golden orbs. “Morning,” he said aloud, intrigued by her intensity.
When there came no reply of any kind he tried the same greeting again using their bond, eager to hear her voice. Nothing. Somewhat frustrated by their lack of communication, the ranger rolled over, ushering her onto the ground beside him.
“So you can speak to me in my dreams,” he surmised, his voice gruff from disuse. Avandriell tilted her head at the words, displaying some understanding in her eyes, though she failed to give any kind of verbal response. “Do you know what I’m saying?” he asked, aware that the dragon had heeded his words previously. Avandriell pounced without warning and landed on his cot, her nose rooting around in the folds of the blanket. Asher sighed. “I’ll take that as a no,” he said.
Gathering his swords and equipment, the ranger departed his tent and greeted the cold morning. His breath clouded the air in front of his face while his back audibly cracked with only the most minor of stretches. Avandriell soon bounded through the flap of the tent and raced around the available area. A passing dwarf was forced to move his leg and hop to the side in a bid to evade the excitable dragon. A pair of elves, eating their breakfast, paused with spoons to their lips to marvel at her.
Asher took the opportunity to fasten his belt and broadsword to his hip before strapping the silvyr
