Levitating myself back up over the edge of the aerie so that I’ll be able to descend down into Mount Solace without needing to crash into the ground, I hide my emotions by chuckling at myself. Putting on the brave, reassuring face, and joking to the gathered, I quip, “Sorry, felt like going for a dip, I felt dirty after fighting the Damnations, driving them off again. I’m honestly sick of running into those dickweasels and them running off. I need a couple of weeks to look through my artifacts and spells to figure out what I’ve got that’ll put them all down for good. We—. Huff, I can’t do it. I’m not this person.”
Slumping against the cliff face near the tunnel from the aerie down to the feasting hall, I sink til my butt touches my heels. As the kobolds, civilians, and members of the Order murmur around me, I gather my thoughts. Expressing them, I start, “I drove them back, and in record time, but even record time wasn’t enough to save everyone. We lost sixt—, no, that’s not the right phrasing. Sixty refugees and three dragons known as Shapuackurt, Lilmbrayur, and Heccinckethmorn were slain, because I wasn’t powerful enough, wasn’t fast enough to be powerful enough. They were on us in less than six seconds. Hell, they were on us in less than one by the way it seemed, and it took me almost six to put one of them down. I didn’t even finish that one off. I’m sor—“
The slap landed on my face by one of the Sand civilians stuns me in surprise more than any sort of injury. Her voice is pained as she chastises me, “You don’t get to be sorry. Shapua, Shapua sh—, glp. You did the best you could, and your best wasn’t good enough. Just answer me one thing. Are you going to make your best better?”
Nodding solemnly, I offer, “Without question. I try not to operate motivated by anger and vengeance, as it leads to my demon wrath being unleashed, but I want to make them pay. I want them to pay for Shapuackurt, Lilmbrayur, and Heccinckethmorn, and for the centuries of terror they’ve inflicted on dragonkind. I want them to pay especially for taking The P—. Sorry, I don’t know the full story, I should shut up. I have to see to my projects, my friends, my vault, and figure out the most effective use of my time in order to ensure that I can put a stop to them once and for all as soon as possible. I just—. I need to be able to process my emotions. I know it’s a lot to ask for ti—.”
The slap I get from the lady at this point is starting to get on my nerves as she grumps at me, “No it isn’t! You’re our hero. Our Hero! But you’re still a person. What I meant before was that you don’t get to be sorry because it’s not your fault. You slew an ancient that had never been so much as bested in any sort of combat, gave a speech, talked down a harasser, saved a clutch, relocated refugees with the help of volunteers, and kept the Damnations from following your relocation effort. You probably haven’t even had a lunch break yet. You’re not a machine. You have needs, and probably wants that should be met.”
Before she can add more, I retort, “Can one of my wants be met then please? I’d like you to stop slapping me.”
The look of horror on the woman’s face as she draws her hands to her mouth would be funny in most other circumstances, so I quickly add, “It’s not that I’m hurt or anything, but if you felt like you needed my attention, you could just talk to me. That’s what that whole speech was about earlier, trying to make myself approachable, even if public speaking and dealing with strangers gives me anxiety. I appreciate your words though. I do. I’ll try to take them to heart. Huff. I just, I just have to find the right pace, and it seems to keep sliding around on me.”
“Right, um, yes, well, thank you for trying. I—. I wish my son Hex and husband Shapu had made it home. I’m sorry for slapping you. Um. Thank you. Sorry. Good luck Schism.” The woman scurries off before I can respond as I’m left stunned realizing what she’s lost.
It’s like Priss all over again. A husband and a son lost at once. Dropping my head into my hands, I can’t seem to cry the tears I feel like I should be loosing for the losses we’ve already suffered and will likely continue to suffer. I feel too numb and weak to even weep. The assorted gathered individuals continue to murmur about me and the Damnations mostly. Several of the people I consider close friends meander nearby, not approaching, but seemingly not wanting to leave me in this state.
One person that I wouldn’t expect to do so comes to sit next to me and kisses me for a long moment on the cheek before wrapping one arm around me and leaning her head on my shoulder. I slide my gaze to my right to take in our The Blue, Farzhis. Veril stands a short ways away, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking abashed as he casts his gaze about, avoiding meeting mine. He rubs the back of his head, blushing when he reads my thought train making note of his actions and hesitation.
Thankfully Farzhis just sits with me for a while before checking in in her delightfully few-stop-consonsants accent, “Schism, what you did, twice now, I can never thank you enough. Reggie. I don’t entirely get it, hurting so much over those you didn’t even know, but it seems such a big part of you. I’m too selfish for that, but it seems such a big part of you. I think the rest of the Mount loves you for it, or will if they don’t already. I’m not good at this whole friendship thing, I’m kinda new to it. You an’ the Broke One are sorta my first real friends, testing the waters, trying not to manipulate you.”
The beautiful airy tone in which Farzhis sighs momentarily actually captivates me and I feel a bit abashed for making note of it. She blushes before continuing, “I guess, um, thanks for steering me right, for protecting us, for everything. I love that you’re our Schism, our Hero. I wouldn’t want anyone else in that spot. I’m going to go hit the sack. I don’t think you should stew if you can help it, but you probably can’t help it. Come on Broke One, let’s head to the Dormie dorms. No, not today, I’m not ready yet, sorry to get your hopes up.”
Now I’m the one blushing at the implications that Veril wanted to sleep with Farzhis, but that she’s actually taking her time in their new relationship, starting with friendship and building from there. I’m really proud of her, despite how awkward it is to be proud of someone for their habits regarding manipulation and sex. I hate myself just a tiny bit that her actions are causing my heart to worm out a spot just a little bit deeper and a little bit bigger for her, with each new act she takes.
I hate myself just a little bit more for the cynical suspicion that she’s playing a longer game of manipulation. It hurts a lot that there’s a side of me that doesn’t give her the trust she deserves. I can tell it hurts her too when she senses that suspicion in me. But Farzhis takes the lump from reading that particular line of thought, and presses onward, leaving down to the feasting hall with Veril.
Ixey is standing a ways away with a sullen, stricken Leezahna, as Zayzi approaches. Zayzi’s hug doesn’t surprise me as much as Farzhis’s, but them shuffling our limbs about to sit in my lap and cuddle me does surprise me a bit. Zayzi mutters telepathically, “Just friends, but safe. Sister safe too. Good. You’re good. You’re safe. Safe is good. Feel good, okay? Let’s share sweets tonight. Please?”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
I can’t help smiling and nodding around a faceful of Xayla’s locks of their massive gorgeous curly ‘fro. I squeeze Zayzi lightly for a few moments, glad that they seem to be shifting from what I’d heard their personality is like, into one that lets themselves experience their feelings enough to comfort others, and project confidence and friendliness. I’m glad they’re on the mend. I know how long of a road it can be to keep working past a trauma. It took me weeks, months, years sometimes for certain ones. I only had the opportunity for that due to accelerated thinkspace.
Uncertain exactly where Zayzi’s face is, beneath the tremendous mound of hair, when I lean inwards attempting to kiss their forehead, I’m shocked when my lips meet lips that were apparently seeking my cheek. Zayzi uncharacteristically swiftly retreats. With their ridiculously lanky limbs, it’s easy enough for them to smack me atop the head from their standing position. I’m uncertain how to react, but I can feel Ixeyla fuming nearby, so I raise my hands forward placatingly, trying to figure out the best way to apologize.
Zayzi knows I was attempting to kiss only their forehead, so they aren’t as mad as they might have been, but their muted emotions warble beneath our telepathic wavelength until they put up walls against me. Xayla hesitates a moment, then stalks away as I’m trying to apologize, causing Ixeyla to trail swiftly after while casting a vicious glare my way. Leezahna just looks mildly confused between the sullenness and fear written across her countenance. She edges away from me in a semi-circle, following Ixeyla cautiously.
Ugh, that certainly could have gone better. I was all proud of Zayzi and happy for them and everything. Before I can mope about the interaction, I’m picked up and dusted off by Shield. Boetah offers, “More good work as our Hero Schism, emotions are harder work, that’s why I think it’s important to be happy and eat well. Everything else sorts itself out. Care for some calcite, or a bit of zircon?”
Chuckling, I shake my head as I hug Boetah about his big round belly. Declining the proffered minerals, I express, “Thanks for the offer Boetah, Shield, but I’ve got a different physiology. Rocks don’t really do it for me. You’re right though, trying to remain happy, and making sure we eat are important things. I guess I’ll go take care of that. My Wings, are you f—.”
Teuila is at my side, sneaking under one of my arms to sidle between me and Boetah in my current embrace in an instant. Te wraps her arms around me as she looses her single elongated laugh of glee, “Heeeee,” which leaves me chuckling. I work to remove my arms from Boetah so I can give her a more tender, yet tighter embrace. Boetah nods as he trundles off, with Shaylon following swiftly behind. I should probably thank the eight strategist Draconiacs, and Pawn, for helping take care of the logistics of this, before Teuila and I start wandering off. I’ll need to stop in and see our prisoners at some point too.
Te gloms onto me as I approach Elshon, Prent, Nietru, and Burshis. Nietru abandons her current conversation to rush to my side, and I’m left blushing a bit at the sudden attention. The sparkle in her eye tells me Nietru is curious if I’d read her missives, so I quickly answer the unspoken question, “Hi Nietru, thank you for the notes, you um, yes, Spymaster’s message was for me, and I understood it, thank you. I look forward to working more with you as well, the eight of you. Perhaps this eve sometime if you have a free moment, you could enlighten me how each of you approach your positions as strategists?”
Figuring I should explain so that it doesn’t come across as me hitting on Nietru in front of everyone, I add, “I have some more plays, and assets, that I’d like to start possibly thinking of ways to deploy, or utilize, and I’d like some more tactically minded opinions on the matter. Also, um, hi, and thank each of you so very much for helping coordinate the evacuation and relocation effort.”
Nietru Devalor comments, “Excited to be a part of your plans Schism, truly! I’d be delighted to let you know about the war council. Our Lady of course has been making decisions for the Order for as long as I can remember, but as wise and calculating as she is, she always takes advisement to heart. I could give you the briefest summary right now, a few words about each of us if you like.”
Seeing me gesture in the affirmative, Nietru offers up, “Elshon over there’s a pragmatist, surprisingly enough, while Prent is fairly close behind. I know I can seem a bit idealistic, and I perhaps am, but I’ve a mind for numbers, which themselves aren’t very idealistic in the best of cases. My Burshee, koff, Burshis is a brutal formations expert, fully studied in both humanoid and draconic battle history. Aktixas is a warrior at heart, and thinks of things at the individual level on the field, a point of view that the rest of us would otherwise lack, very empathetic to the necessity of morale and such.”
Motioning to the pair of lovebirds helping with the refugee intake, Nietru continues, “Geskae and Aaront are of similar minds, I think it’s why they’re such a loving couple, they can see big picture plays and overall strategies that span moves and retaliations that some of the rest of us don’t have the foresight for. Shrulniz is, um, huh. Shrulniz is tactical in a tangential way, the needs of those we’re protecting. I guess if you’ve seen any human sports, perhaps a bit like a goalie from some of their ball related sports. Oh my apologies, a belated hello to you both, you too as well my Tenith. I’m excited to be approached by the pair of you.”
My lower jaw juts forward appreciatively as I nod at Nietru, taking in her information. My response is a simple, “Thank you for that, perhaps I can just say it then, and you could discuss amongst the eight of you, so that you could drop me a letter, or come by to chat later these eve? I’ve got a lot of uncategorized items, loot I guess, and I know we’ve already defeated several dragons who have their own hoards. Ka’thuul is out there, worming her way around, trying to pick up the wealth after we’ve freed it from its owners, but despite wanting to keep our alliance I’d prefer if that wealth and the possible artifacts contained therein were coming to Mount Solace. Could you fill me in on what we’re doing in a sort of reverse-supply-lines kind of deal?”
Before Nietru can start answering in the here and now, so that I can emphasize that I want her to talk it over with the others, I continue, “Also, the two Spellknight prisoners might be willing to take up defense of our home, or perhaps of traveling caravans and supply runs and the like. It’d put dangerous allies in positions where they can use their power in times of need, show our faith in them in a fashion, and also protect the innocents in Mount Solace from them until we’re more certain we can trust them. Only if they’re up for it of course.”
Realizing something else I want to talk to is best not spoken aloud, I put up all my telepathic walls and send directly to Nietru, “There are secrets about Rayileklia that I know, that I need to know who else is in the know about, so it’s quite difficult to subtly ask about them without spilling the beans. Since you’re used to communicating with Spymaster, and interpreting sensitive topics, I’d like you to bring to my attention everyone’s knowledge of certain topics such as storms, temporal anomalies, the routing of the Felgre hordes the first time, anything that you can think of would be a sensitive topic in fact. Assume that I either do know, or should be informed about anything that is normally a matter of secrecy, but also assume I don’t know why each thing should be kept secret at this point, or from whom, so make sure that you have that information ready as well. My plans might change very little, or drastically depending on your answers. Thank you Nietru Devalor.”
Heat emanates from Nietru’s face as I include her last name in addressing her. Crap, is that like when a parent angrily calls out your last name? I didn’t mean to embarrass her. Or are last names a sensitive topic? So very few of the dragons or dragonkin seem to have them. I spread one arm wide, offering Nietru a hug, and thankfully she gladly accepts it. Giving her a firm squeeze, I bob my head once gently in her direction as a sort of farewell. After breaking off the hug, Te and I begin descending from the aerie towards the feasting hall together.