Chapter Eighteen – Mission Failed

As soon as Tara reappeared near the fire, she wished she hadn’t. It was peaceful in the Vale, actually comfortable. Not far from Allerion’s southern coast, the biting wind would have been almost unbearable except for the arch of Fenryx’s wing sheltering her and Acalon from the worst of the wintry weather.

The sight of that dragon still amazed Tara. She could see the flame in the dragon’s eyes and nostrils, his scaled black head turned towards her. But as interested as Fenryx was, his attention didn’t scare her. The dragon was no threat to a hero of Allerion unless he was antagonized, and Tara had no intention of antagonizing him.

It was Fenryx’s rider who posed the biggest problem, and even then, the difficulty level really depended on Tara. If she didn’t care what he thought of her, there was no problem at all. But Altheria had spoken truthfully when she said that Tara was at max loyalty towards all her potential companions. She had known them for years even if they only knew her in this instant, and she wanted to make this work.

Acalon was staring at her, his eyes uncharacteristically wide, his face covering sucking in and flapping outward with slow, deliberate breath. Tara would have liked to see him without the wrapping. Acalon was generally more comfortable with it, as if that cloth were itself another shield against the world around him. But she wouldn’t have minded seeing the full extent of his astonishment.

“I’m back,” said Tara. “I bet you feel better now. Don’t you?”

He continued to stare at her. Tara imagined his mouth was slackly open.

“When I disappear, it resets my companions’ health stats,” said Tara. “I’m better, too.” No thanks to you, she wanted to add.

Acalon had been in the act of rising when she levelled up. Now he sat carefully back down, and was impressed to discover that Tara’s words were true. His leg was no longer hurting and he felt strangely refreshed. He would never have known he had just been in a battle with grimps, except for the scuffing on his armor and the stain of Tara’s blood on his own hands.

“You were hurt,” he rasped, uncertainly. He need to reassure himself that he wasn’t mad.

“That's right,” said Tara. “I was really hurt.”

“Then how—”

“Because I’m the Hero of Allerion,” said Tara simply.

He looked at her as if she’d just sprouted troll horns.

“I’m not like you,” said Tara. “You’re bound to this world. This—terrestrial plane of existence. I’m not. I’m learning, growing, and leveling up.”

Acalon looked as lost as ever. “You’re not…human?”

Tara reached for him impulsively. She knew he wouldn’t like it, but at this point, the usual courtesies didn’t seem to matter. She pressed his hand in hers, trying to show him how solid and human she truly was.

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“I’m as human as you are,” she said. “Haven’t you heard the legend of the Last Hero of Allerion? I’m not from here, Acalon. I just 'appeared' a few days ago. But I’ve known you for years.”

He pulled away from her. His black eyes were narrow again, resistant. “You—know me? That’s impossible. You must be a witch.”

“Or a prophet, according to Horon,” said Tara. “But I’m neither. I’m just me. Tara MacQueen.”

The dragon rider rose. He was unable to sit still.

“Where did you go?” he asked hoarsely. “Disappearing like that—and reappearing so quickly—what did it mean? And those words—those signs—they were unnatural…”

“They were indicators that I’m increasing in skill,” said Tara. “You said I wasn’t a warrior, and in a manner of speaking you were right. It’s early days for me. The ‘Tooth and Claw’ trophy I collect in my first close-range combat with a grimp—if I survive. The other thing just means I’m Level 3 now, which is still pretty low.”

“You speak in madness and riddles,” hissed the dragon rider. “You are insane.”

“Maybe. I’m trying to be honest.” Tara looked at him squarely. “I’d like honesty from you too, if you don’t mind. You weren’t meant to follow me and my companions on my first quest. How did you find us? Why are you here?”

The silence between them stretched. Acalon’s bleak gaze never wavered.

“So there is something you don’t know about me,” said the dragon rider at last. “That is a relief. Hero of Allerion, you say? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tara blinked. “You don’t know the prophecy?”

“I know the prophecy,” replied Acalon. “But I don’t know you. If what you say is true, I would prefer to keep it that way. Farewell, Tara MacQueen.”

He was turning to Fenryx. Tara snapped to her feet.

“Wait!” she said. “There has to be some way I can convince you what I'm saying is true.”

“Why do you want to?” he returned. “Don't you remember what happened only a moment ago? You were furious with me, and rightly so. It is never an easy thing to learn the way of life and death. What happened to your anger? Why do you forgive me so soon, as if nothing happened at all?”

Tara was briefly speechless. Now that she was fully healed, being angry with him hadn’t seemed so important, not when there was so much more at stake. But she could see that her answer was important to Acalon.

“I…” Tara’s voice trailed.

“I could trust your anger,” said Acalon more softly. “But this—I don’t trust this. You may be a Hero of Allerion. But you are no hero of mine.”

No. Tara recognized those words. She was supposed to hear them much later, if she failed the pivotal character quest in her association with Acalon. That failure was irrevocable. It signified the end of any hoped alliance.

“Acalon!” she cried, starting forward. “You saved my life.”

He hesitated. Incredibly, he was listening.

“Let’s say I have visions,” said Tara, “and in my visions we’ve met before. Let’s say that in my visions, you never followed me into danger when I didn’t do anything to impress you first. What made you come after me this time? I don’t understand.”

“Then you don’t understand me as well as you think you do,” said Acalon. At first, Tara didn't think he would spare her an explanation. His next words were clipped. “When I first met you, I saw someone determined to get herself killed. I did not want your blood on my conscience. But you’re right—I was meant to be on business elsewhere and can delay no longer.”

Tara watched Acalon mount his dragon. She knew nothing she said would stop him, and the sense of her failure was deep. She shouldn’t care. He was harsh and too easily riled, when he could have been more understanding. Wenrik, Horon, and Elita certainly never looked at her as if she were a threat to them.

This time, there was no mocking goodbye to the “Hero of Allerion.” The ground shook as Fenryx’s massive legs carried him forward, gathering distance between them before the dragon spread his wing for flight.

Tara watched them go, the dragon’s silhouette jet black against the glittering sky. The fire was burning low, but she didn’t care about the increasing coldness. All she could think was, This wasn’t supposed to happen.