On the Eve of Departure

If the world’s path is circular, then perhaps life’s trajectories draw similar, nonlinear paths.

* * * * * * * *

Szak felt a bittersweetness in his chest when Fiera landed on the corner of Vigil Street and Lumir Way in the southeastern part of Foyirsinn. The city looked the same as it did every summer, with the same stone buildings and watch towers, the same stone-paved paths leading the way through the dirt and the grass, but it all felt much different, and it wasn’t necessarily because of all the puddles left over from three summer-length days of rain.

The mountains in the distance, while not necessarily bigger, felt displaced, somehow. The people and the dragons walking around the main market street—nothing had changed, but everything was unfamiliar. Something in him made everything feel like a home that was not home. Was it embarrassment? He wasn’t sure.

It is pretty embarrassing, though. Fiera thought. Your friends have been watching you rise among the ranks since you went to school together, and now you’re facing them again with civilian status.

Yes, I know.

You haven’t held civilian status since you were fourteen.

Szak glared at Fiera. You think I don’t know, or what?

Don’t get upset at me. You were confused with your thoughts. I still have my rank.

Szak caught himself only getting angrier, through his pride, so much that his heart writhed in place and something wanted to explode inside him. How could Fiera think like this, knowing that they shared all thoughts, knowing that Szak trusted her above all others? They were to be partners. She had no reason to be like this.

But then he stopped. Held his breath.

They did share all thoughts. And Szak had never filtered anything—not that it was even possible, in the first place.

He let out his breath, soft and slow. I wouldn’t want any other partner. He lifted his leg over and slid off the left side of Fiera, feet landing on the cobblestone path. Thanks for not rubbing it in—making me call you Commander, and all.

You know we’re not like that. Fiera nudged Szak forward with her snout before turning around to fly to the back entrance of the two-story building beside them, looking for one of their dragon friends, Nova.

Fiera found Nova in the back, practicing with Szak’s closest childhood friend Mythilanis. Through her eyes, Szak saw Mythil, sweat weighing down his hair of black and gold and forming beads among his freckles, his chartreuse eyes focused on the gem melting in dragon fire. Across the counter sat Szak’s younger brother, Mikalivir, with his brown dragon, Jasper. Bladen and Jamis were also supposed to be here, today, but they hadn’t arrived yet.

Szak walked over, feeling every bump of the cobble path through his shoes. The bottom floor of the two-story building where Mythil was currently staying with Nova opened to the central marketplace. The entrance stretched across half of the front face of the building, allowing Szak to see all of inside before entering. Jasper turned around from the counter first, and in seeing Szak with his bright, lime-green eyes, Mik also turned and nodded to Szak while Jasper crawled away, all of its body disappearing from view.

“You okay?” he asked when Szak entered.

“I have to be,” Szak muttered, just loud enough for Mik to hear him against all of the clanking around the corner.

“Doesn’t mean you are.”

Szak only looked at Mik. Perhaps the lack of a response to that already meant enough.

He took a seat next to his brother, also in front of the counter that ran across the room from one wall to the other, with a partition off to the left side that could be lifted. The walls surrounding them were decorated in the most exquisite variety of Drakonforged weapons. Longswords, daggers, axes, spears, halberds, and the like, shined in a multitude of opaque and translucent colors as they rested on hooks upon the wall, all of them gemstones melted and molded by dragon fire.

From the corner behind the wall, the light emitted from dragon fire dwindled. The clanking continued on a few minutes longer before it, too, stopped. They could hear Mythil tossing his tools aside before walking out to join them.

“Heard the news,” Mythil said with a scoff and a grin as he wiped his hands with a cloth. “How’s the civilian life going for ya?”

“Great,” Szak said with a scoff and a grin to match.

“Yeah, I think it’s going great, too,” Mythil said, folding the cloth on the counter top before leaning on it. “We’re also civilians, you know.” He gestured toward Mik when he kept his eyes on Szak. “It’s not like you’re worth less or anything.”

“I’m aware,” Szak lied. It wasn’t like he didn’t know—but that fact had slipped his mind, he supposed. He repeated his friend’s words once more and realized that, yes, it was true, in some sense. He was still an Aideyllian. He would still be welcomed anywhere, always watched over by Anya. “My life just feels too different, now,” he said after a long pause.

“Happens.” Mythil shrugged. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“I don’t have a choice. It’s the Academy for another two years.”

“Well, there you go,” Mythil laughed. He patted Szak on the shoulder. “That’s great.”

Szak tried to keep his disgust away, but he couldn’t, to which Mythil only rolled his eyes.

“You’re a dragon’s ass sometimes. I hope you’re aware.”

“Fiera’s there to remind me,” Szak said dryly.

“He means that you’re being dumb about this,” Mik tried to clarify.

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?” Mik scoffed. “The Academy is mandatory on the track to Chief Potential. No one’s Chief Commander until after they’ve been chosen as a direct disciple of Ayren.”

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“Yeah, you know what else is a requirement? Already being established as an Elite Commander.” Szak didn’t want to argue, but he was. “I’m not on track to taking over after our old man. I’m going to be just another Aideyllian attending class.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Mythil said. “How many rivers have you cried with Fiera? Or does she dry them up before you get the chance?”

“I—” Szak blinked. “Okay, so I’m complaining. A lot.” He sighed. “I’ve been restless ever since I started the Academy. You don’t understand how pointless it all is, and there’s two more years of it until I can even go back to signing up for missions to regain my rank. You should see the combat classes they have at the Academy. It’s a joke. It’s the bootcamp we provide to our twelve-year-olds. I don’t need that.”

“Not saying you can’t complain,” Mythil shrugged. “Just saying you can be making progress while doing that. Complain about the work instead of complaining about being stuck.” He brought a hand up to his work decorating the walls. “I had twelve years of mandatory apprenticeship, and then I had an additional three years after that because Alarik thought I wasn’t good enough. I still practice every day, even now.”

Szak pressed his lips together. How do I tell Mythil that it’s different without making it sound like I’m looking down on him?

You don’t. Fiera answered in his head from the other side of the store.

Szak closed his eyes. There was no other he’d trust more than Mythil to forge his Drakonforged weapons. Still, it’s not the same. Mythil and Nova aren’t trained past the mandatory four years for Drak—

“Honest to Anya though,” Mik added, interrupting Szak’s thought. “You could do with some books.”

Szak shot his brother a side glare. “That’s not me.”

“Chief probably thinks the same thing,” Mythil said. “So prove him wrong.”

Ew.

Exactly.

“Why would I do that?” Szak huffed.

Mythil had to pick up his dropped jaw before responding. “Because the alternative is that you don’t get chosen as a direct disciple and are stuck as a civilian, even after the two years.”

Szak bit his lip in frustration and looked away. His hand tightened its grip along the edge of the counter, whitening his knuckles.

“Isn’t it good that you get to prove the Chief wrong? Then you both win.” Mythil paused to wait for Szak to respond, but he didn’t, so he added, “That’s what you should want. For both of you to win.”

Szak shook his head. There was no way he could voice his disagreement with his father to Mythil. As close of friends as they were, it would be disrespecting all of the military if Szak, in particular, voiced what distaste he had toward his father. All he was able to muster out was, “Sure.”

It was obvious to Mythil that Szak disagreed, but he didn’t press further, and only shrugged to Mik, instead. Mik gave Mythil a look of slight annoyance, showing both his agreement and how difficult it was to deal with his older brother, at times.

Jamis’ voice could be heard down Lumir Way, just outside the entrance to Mythil’s shop. “That is dragonshit, Bladen. You literally make no sense.”

“Hey! Aesthetics are important, too!”

“No one gives a shit!”

“To each their own.”

“We’re not arguing that, though. We’re arguing logical standpoint. There is literally no logical reason for you to prefer gem over metal,” Jamis said as he entered with Mirage and Bladen. “Especially you, because you throw them around all the time! It’s like someone making every single one of their arrows out of Drakonforged gemstones.”

“Yeah! That’d be sick as fuck, right Szak?” Bladen said with a wide smile. “All the enemies have regular wooden arrows, and I’d be walking around with arrows that glitter when they fly. They’d be staring at them in awe in their last moments before death. ‘Sup.”

“You and your Oblivion lingo,” Jamis shook his head as he took a seat on the other side of Mik. “You make no sense. It is literally a huge waste of time for our forgers.”

“Pretty much,” Mythil agreed.

“It’s not that much of a waste of time,” Bladen said, taking a seat next to Szak. “I throw daggers and stars most of the time, so I don’t need anything that’ll last long when I’ll probably lose it—”

“Exactly why just sticking to metal is enough!” Jamis said in frustration. He turned to Mik. “Can you believe that we’ve been arguing about this the entire route here? All the way down Lumir Way.”

“Nice,” Mik said with a laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“But you can easily forge gems in about the same time it takes to forge metal, right?” Bladen continued, looking only at Mythil. “If you’re not aiming to make the weapon last like sixty years or something, you only need to do one round, and it’ll be good to go. Metal’s the same way. Right?”

Mythil looked at Bladen dead in the eye. “Metals are melted with natural fire, in a furnace. Gemstones can only be reshaped with dragon fire. They crack in natural fire.”

“Okay but the process is the same, right?”

“Bladen. One requires a flame snapper to do the work,” Mythil repeated.

“Alright, but the time it takes is about the same, right?”

Mythil shook his head and left the counter. Jamis stifled a laugh and turned to Szak to change the topic, for all of their sanity.

“Hey, buddy. How’s the kitty?”

“Kat’s fine,” Szak sighed. “Woke up the other day. Should be able to start rehabilitation and get walking in a month or two.”

“Good,” Jamis nodded. “The damage looked nasty when Mirage and I saw it.”

“Yo! Mythil!” Bladen called out. “Can we cross the counter?!”

Mythil’s groan could be heard from behind the wall. “Those weapons are for the children!”

Bladen didn’t answer to that, but after a moment, he turned to the boys at the counter. “Let’s go get a drink. Szak, it’s your last day here, right? You flying out tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, same here. Back to the Academy we go. Fiera’s flying you the whole way, right? Let’s drink, then. She can take care of you if you get hung over.”

“Now we’re talking,” Jamis laughed, standing up from his chair. “Let’s go. Mik, you and Jasper joining us?”

Mik shrugged. “Sure.”

Brown scales reappeared on the ceiling above, seemingly sculpting a dragon from thin air. Jasper spread his wings and landed on Mik’s shoulders. He was too big to fit, and his claws hugged Mik’s back as his tail curled around Mik’s waist. He closed his wings and snuggled his head right around Mik’s neck and across his chest. Mik brought a hand up to pet Jasper’s head twice.

None of them saw Szak roll his eyes. So, instead, Szak let out a sigh and stood up. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, Mythil!” Bladen called out again. “Join us for a drink. Mik’s coming along! You need to get out sometime! It’s why you don’t have a woman!”

The sound of a gem shattering to pieces scattered from behind the wall. Szak had seen through Fiera’s eyes, all of what would have been a jade rapier crack under Mythil’s anger.

Well, that’s at least one jewelry maker with a new shipment tomorrow.

Nova’s just as upset. Her fire turned cold.

Mythil stepped out from behind the counter, not wanting to deal with the shards all over the ground. “Alright, let’s go,” he grumbled.

“Fiera and Nova coming?” Bladen asked as they stepped out.

“They’re hunting,” Szak and Mythil answered at the same time. The two traded smiles. Szak shook his head and put an arm around Mythil, who only rolled his eyes.

Bladen’s menacing shadow of Sidian followed him as he led them down Vigil Street. Mik walked beside him as the two conversed about different dragon species. Eventually, Mythil caught wind of their conversation that pertained to flame snappers, and he walked up to join what would soon turn into a debate. Jamis took this moment to step back in his walk and be beside Szak.

“Heard the news. You alright?”

“Yeah,” Szak nodded.

“Don’t take it too harsh,” Jamis added. “I was there with you. You did the right thing, going after Katarina.”

“Right decisions aren’t supposed to be punished in the military.”

“Nah,” Jamis shook his head. “You’re the Chief’s son. You know he can’t show an inkling of favoritism for you, or you’ll just have it worse when it’s your turn to lead—no one will take you seriously. Chief’s probably going overboard, stripping your rank and all, but I don’t doubt you’ll earn it back. It’s actually not bad for your reputation in the long run.”

Szak nodded at Jamis’ words. The explanation would have made sense—but Szak didn’t want to believe anyone knew how Kazimir truly was, as a father. “He’s not actually going to hand it back to me.”

“Is that what you want?” Jamis laughed. “To be handed your rank?”

“I already had to earn it once.”

“Great, so you know exactly what to do.” Jamis patted Szak on the back, smile wide. “If you did it once, you can do it again. Sucks, but hey. You don’t have to be the next Chief if you don’t want to. There’s a long list of Elite Commanders looking forward to you knocking yourself off the list.”

Szak looked over, meeting the spark in Jamis’ soft brown eyes.

“Easier said than done.”

“Well,” Jamis smiled. “Isn’t that every mission we’ve ever had to do?”