I have no desire to be parted from you either, Asher stated. But if there’s anything out there that can harm you or our bond, I want to know about it.
The warrior that lived in Avandriell’s core agreed with the logic, but there was certainly more to her than just a fighter. I still don’t like it, she complained, having no desire to be separated from him.
Asher couldn’t help a smile. He knew there were people who would say they loved him - and he would never tell them they didn’t - but it was a very different experience to feel the love of another resonating in his heart.
The work stations of the dwarven smiths weren’t too far away from the main camp, but their seclusion made for perfect conditions where Crissalith was concerned. Still, the elves and dragons were sure to keep their business on the other side of the camp.
Only the slightest chill graced Asher’s skin as he passed between the heat of each station. Hammers beat with a steady rhythm and sparks were born and died in the blink of an eye. For most, the ranger included, it was a headache-inducing environment, but for the dwarves it was the sound of home.
The smiths barely glanced away from their work as they took note of Asher’s observation. He admired the blades and shields they produced, especially given their limited resources in the wood. Nothing, it seemed, could prevent the children of the mountain from doing what they did best.
I can still feel you, Avandriell told him.
Asher didn’t need to look up to know that the dragon had glided away to a safer distance. And I you, he replied.
Approaching the furthest work station, the ranger’s eyes caught a flash of green on an anvil. The closer he got, the more detached and isolated he felt. Avandriell’s thoughts and feelings faded, as if the distance between them actually applied.
Asher… Her voice was reduced to a whisper.
It was wholly unnatural and every fibre of Asher’s being told him to get away from the Crissalith. But he needed to know. If it could be retrieved from the mine in Davosai once then it could be retrieved again. Now he knew how close the crystalline rock had to be before he began to experience the side effects. Two more steps and his mind was an island again, absent Avandriell’s exquisite presence and Thessaleia’s extraordinary memories and experiences.
He was just a man.
His fist clenched, the ranger studied the work of the dwarves closely. They were detailed in their approach to any weapon’s crafting, but they were also incredibly fast. Even now, before his eyes, the rough piece of crystal was beginning to resemble the blade of a dagger. It was beautiful. And abhorrent.
Like so much from that time, Crissalith was just another nightmare from the mind of Atilan. The secret history of the world would forever remember the wicked king as nothing more than a genocidal tyrant who couldn’t live with his own mortality. His only saving grace was the accidental creation of the elves, though it was something of a taboo subject among the woodland folk.
Satisfied with his new knowledge regarding the Crissalith, Asher wasted no time in bidding it farewell. He strode from the area without a glance back.
There you are! Avandriell exclaimed. Come and meet me!
Asher welcomed her presence as she filled up his mind. There was instant transmission of memories, informing the other of their brief time apart. Both were in agreement that Crissalith was to be avoided at all costs and, if possible, destroyed so that it could never be used against them.
I have been reviewing your memories of orcs, Avandriell said with excitement, and much to Asher’s amusement. Her mind worked quickly, dashing from one subject to another with hardly a breath between. It reminded him how young she was.
And what do you make of them? the ranger asked, heading deeper into the main camp.
I would like to face them! the dragon declared eagerly. They possess a ferocity worthy of challenge. Before Asher could comment, Avandriell blurted, And Giants! Illian is home to a gruesome breed my mother never encountered. And Sandstalkers! I wish to test my fangs against their outer shell.
Asher chuckled to himself as he passed a pair of dwarves stirring a large vat of stew. This world is full of monsters, he assured. You’ll get your chance at them all before long.
Navigating a tight cluster of tents, the ranger offered Captain Dardaris a greeting nod, though he didn’t stop to talk to the man, still unsure as to how he spoke to someone while conversing with a dragon. Continuing towards the large field that parted the trees, a place he could meet up with Avandriell, Asher almost paused his step. He could feel his companion moving around inside his mind.
What are you doing? he asked curiously.
You’re different, Avandriell told him.
Different? he echoed incredulously, though he only required a moment of thought to realise he was completely different to the man he had been before he stepped into that bonding chamber.
You are not entirely the man I met, Avandriell went on. You have let go of so much since then, even more so since Palios. The end of Nightfall and the Arakesh has changed you. I feel relief in you, a weight lifted. Yet, you still believe yourself to be the last of them. I can feel the shame that lingers. I do not like it.
Asher glanced at the sky, catching a glimpse of her. In time, their mark on the world will fade and their name will become an old legend. But I’m… immortal. The word didn’t come to him with ease. I will live on, and so Nightfall’s teachings will remain in the world. There’s no escaping that.
Avandriell remained uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, though Asher was convinced he could feel an impression of Thessaleia in her thoughts. Are you an Outlander? the young dragon asked.
Her tone suggested
