The next few days passed by in a wearying haze. Even with Monzqora in the distance, Zyryxa didn’t know where she was headed. Despite Lexyn’s presence, she felt alone. Her cold demeanor increasingly pushed the friendly girl toward Pelzyq. The big oaf avoided her, except to heckle with raunchy one-liners. She let them flow off her, not rising to the challenge. Step by step, day by day, she marched, uncertain if she was moving forward at all.
Natazia kept to herself as much as Zyryxa did, offering nothing to rekindle warmth in Zyryxa. Nor did Matyxal’s complimentary flirting rouse her. Once, Zyryxa wondered whether letting the bard use her tongue for something of real value would break her out of the haze. The steamy thought quickly fizzled out, snuffed by the cold that permeated her these days.
Most of her companionship was with Zyrxl. They marched together at the front of their line. Zyryxa scanned the cold Volqori wilderness for threats. Of those, they’d faced a few, though none posed enough challenge to spark excitement. Or even came close. Instead, her mind wandered between thoughts of Zyrthalla, Saevah, and now Hatrox too.
The more she remembered of that one time his eyes possessed her, of her mother’s warning, of Natazia’s scars, the less certain she was that Riverwatch was the right place for her. Valinax had warned her to stay subtle, but she couldn’t be herself if she had to pretend to be like she was anyone else. Her pride chaffed at the idea of playing meek and weak. She wasn’t merely some bard’s whelp. Zyryxa was Zyrthalla’s daughter. Her mind felt tangled, lost, with little but the endless snowfields and gelubor to distract her.
That evening, the scent of steak roasting over their fire kindled memories of days she could never return to. Pelzyq’s constant masturbatory comments about how tasty his meat was made her want to rip her hair out and strangle him with it. Lexyn’s innocent praise of the steak didn’t make Zyryxa’s mood savory. Worse yet, it was good. Divinedamned good. In her entire year in the wilds, Zyryxa had yet to cook any meal that was comparable. Her treacherous taste buds enjoyed every bite.
Natazia licked her fingers and leaned back against a rock lined with wolf furs. “Pelzyq’s meat is as legendary as I’ve heard,” she said, joining in on the Pelzyq parade.
Zyryxa glowered at her steak, wanting to vomit.
“Hah!” Pelzyq said, thumbing his chest like a goora. “All the ladies love Pelzyq’s meat. Tender, filling, and guaranteed to leave even ice princesses satisfied.” He grinned at Zyryxa.
“I’ve had better,” she said. It was probably true. She hoped.
Matyxal crouched beside Zyryxa, deftly helping herself to another strip of steak, despite her bound hands. “Be nice,” she whispered, winking at Zyryxa. “Kindness is the antidote to what ails you.”
Zyryxa let out a sigh. “I nominate Pelzyq for permanent cooking duty.”
“Hah! The princess wants Pelzyq’s meat every night.”
Zyryxa shot Matyxal a glare that said, See. I tried. Divinedamned bard with divinedamned bardic words that sound better than they actually are.
“Pelzyq,” Lexyn said. “Maybe you could take a break from meat quips for a bit.” She seemed the only one that could have an impact on that degenerate.
Pelzyq wagged a finger at Zyryxa. “Pelzyq will cook for you lovely ladies as often as you’d like. Eh, Natazia?”
“For as long as we’re together,” Natazia said, reclining onto her rock.
Monzqora towered over the horizon, a giant, jagged spike piercing the skyline. Zyryxa stared at it, her thoughts clouded. Did she even know what she wanted anymore? Bond a dragon. But which one? Always it had been Duilahir, but now her mother’s Qorzillux seemed to beckon to her. Kill Saevah. But could she succeed? Restore peace to Volqor. But what of companionship? Love? She didn’t want to live the isolating life she had during the rite, surviving but never truly living. For all that, she saw where she was headed, sitting around the fire, surrounded by people but still alone, actively driving everyone who might care out of her life.
She studied Natazia, wondering whether this cold, scarred woman was her future. If she went to Riverwatch, if Hatrox got his hands on her, would she end up just as hardened? Even if she didn’t trust Natazia’s dour allusions to her time at Riverwatch, she had faith in Matyxal’s wisdom. Was she ready for Saevah? For Hatrox?
“You know what everyone needs?” Matyxal asked, breaking the silence.
Things we can’t have, Zyryxa thought.
“Firebomb!” Pelzyq declared, producing a jug of looted raider liquor. He popped the cork and took a swig, his face contorting as he barely managed to swallow. He slapped his elbow against his side, laughed, and offered the jug to Lexyn.
Lexyn hesitated. Zyryxa met her eyes. You can do it, Lexyn. Nodding to each other, Lexyn took a nervous sip, only to sputter and cough out a spray of the burning liquid.
“A sign of good firebomb,” Matyxal said with a chuckle. “When we’re finished tonight, you’ll have the hang of it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Lexyn mumbled.
“Don’t be afraid,” Pelzyq said, patting her back. “Pelzyq will show you how it’s done.” He took another long gulp, holding in the liquid and letting it swish around in his throat. He tried to hoot but let out an exaggerated wheeze that drew laughter from the group.
The firelight reflected in Matyxal’s eyes as she stood. “Watch this.” She strode to Pelzyq, accepting the jug with a flourish. “I have something to say before I show you how the Fire Tribe handle Ozyeeq firebomb: The world is better when the four of you are together. To a better world.”
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With a sly grin, she guzzled the firebomb like it was water. When she belched, a small flame erupted from her maw, earning cheers and applause. Bowing dramatically, she passed the jug to Natazia. Zyryxa couldn’t help admiring her style and struggled to look away when Matyxal shot her a knowing wink.
Natazia regarded the firebomb like an enemy she had already decided to kill. “We have but one life to live,” she said, raising the jug. “May we all have good deaths.”
“Good deaths?” Pelzyq snorted. “Pelzyq will teach you proper toasting!”
Matyxal grinned, nudging Natazia. “What’s the key to a good death?”
“Achieving your goals,” Zyryxa said quietly, thinking of Zyrthalla.
“That’s part of it,” Matyxal said. “Anyone else?”
“A beautiful woman at your side,” Pelzyq said, glancing at Lexyn out of the corner of his eye. “Or several,” he added with a self-satisfied grin. Hopefully, he’d be the only one satisfying himself for a long time.
Lexyn shook her head, smiling. “Living a good life,” she said.
“Ding. Ding. And ding!” Matyxal said, clapping Natazia’s rock. “We have three winners. Pass around that firebomb,” she said with a bard’s gusto, “and think about what that means for you.”
The jug made its rounds, and when it reached Zyryxa, she stared into its depths. What made life good? Battles fought well, as Natazia implied? Having beautiful partners to see you through to the end? Her mother had battles and love. She triumphed in the sky and on the ground. Zyrthalla’s love for Abbaz was everything Zyryxa ever wanted to feel for her partner. She hated to admit it, but her father’s serenades, the way the held each other and smiled like they had found the most beautiful sight in the world … Zyryxa wanted that for herself. Still, would that be enough for her? Was it enough for Zyrthalla? Or was there some deeper meaning to her life that gave it purpose? What role did she serve in her mother’s life?
She herself was living proof that Zyrthalla’s life had been good. Zyryxa couldn’t let go of her vengeance, but life didn’t have to be about vengeance alone. She could fight her battles well, forge beautiful friendships, perhaps find lovers that would look at her the way her mother looked at Abbaz. But, neither of those would be enough if she didn’t try to leave something behind that made the world better. If she didn’t have a legacy, the way her mother had her.
She tipped the jug, drinking deeply. The fiery liquid burned her throat, but when she set it down, she felt warmth beyond the liquor. Zyryxa scanned her companions: Lexyn, quiet but brave; Pelzyq, frustrating yet steadfast; Natazia, hardened but experienced. This could be her brood—her new family. If only she didn’t drive them away with her cold.
Lifting the jug, she said, “To bonding our dragons together and leaving our marks on the world. To living good lives and leaving things better when we’re gone.” She drank deep, long past the point that no more fire reached her. Lexyn. Pelzyq. Natazia. These were the names she would etch into her own heart. Whether the firebomb made this feel poignant, or whether it actually was, Zyryxa felt changed. She felt like she knew herself again, knew where she was headed.
Matyxal lit up like a blaze. “Well said, Zyryxa.” She paced around the fire, her voice filled with bardic fervor. “Instead of going alone, Natazia, you shall have three worthy companions. Instead of going to Riverwatch, the three of you shall grow too strong for Hatrox to hurt you.” Her enthusiasm was more intoxicating than the firebomb. Zyryxa wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, as Matyxal continued, “With your four dragons, we’ll be unstoppable! Nights like these will return to Volqor. Ice and fire laughing, eating, singing,” she glanced at Zyryxa, “even snuggling together! You shall be—”
“Brood!” Lexyn shouted, her voice no quieter than Zyryxa’s matching roar. Pelzyq followed them, chanting brood, brood, brood!
All eyes turned to Natazia. Her icy demeanor thawed as she broke into a smile. “I haven’t been myself, but with your help, I think I’ll find myself again.”
Zyryxa extended her arm, in Ice Tribe salute, pressing it against Natazia’s. “Sister, she said. “I’ve lost myself too. Together, we will rediscover who we are, and we’ll deliver justice to every monster in this land, whether their hair is blue or red.”
Pelzyq raised the jug. “To strong women, who are also beautiful! Especially to Pelzyq.”
“Who asked Pelzyq?” Zyryxa said, earning laughter.
Natazia rumbled with laughter, sharing a smile with Zyryxa that made her feel even warmer. “He’s not wrong, though,” Natazia said.
“No, he’s not,” Lexyn agreed. “And,” she lowered her voice, though not enough that everybody couldn’t hear, “if we drink enough firebomb, he might even look good too.”
Pelzyq looked like an arrow had pierced straight through his heart. Covering her mouth, Zyryxa added, “There’s not enough firebomb left.”
“Ha, ha,” Pelzyq said shaking the jug. “You ladies won’t care about anything else once you see Pelzyq naked.” He nudged Lexyn. “I know you’ve already had the honor.”
“What?” Zyryxa said, her cheeks flushing, feeling a sting of jealousy.
“He was frozen, and I needed to change his furs,” Lexyn said, even more flushed, as if racing Zyryxa to see who could be the most giddily uncomfortable. It was a tight contest, but Lexyn took the lead. “I tried not to look.”
Pelzyq wrapped his arm around her. “Pelzyq believes you did your best, Lex.”
“But not even you can do the impossible,” Natazia said, in a deep voice that emulated slurred speech.
Even Pelzyq laughed. Especially Pelzyq. Zyryxa found herself taking another swig of firebomb, feeling better than she had since leaving Loxzua. She set up her furs closer to Natazia, choosing to bridge whatever chasm was between them.
“Laugh all you want, ladies,” he said. “Pelzyq will shield you from the harshness of this world, protecting your frail, inhumanely good-looking bodies, because he can take it.”
“My hero,” Lexyn said, batting her eyes. The girls laughed while Pelzyq flexed proudly.
Zyryxa howled with laughter, grabbing her stomach in part because of nausea, but mostly because the banter tickled her. Matyxal faded into the background with a wink and gave her a patented Zyryxa nod.
Zyryxa took the jug from Pelzyq and offered it to Lexyn. “We’re still waiting for your toast.”
“Toast! Toast!” Pelzyq and Natazia chanted.
Lexyn nodded, lifted the jug, and said, “To nights like this.”
They all drank to that. Laughter and comradery were law as they drank more of the big jug than was advisable. When Pelzyq and Lexyn had passed out, and Natazia wished Zyryxa sweet dreams, she nestled into her furs, rubbed her belly, and gazed at the stars and the blue half-moon. She had a family again. For the first time since her world came crashing down, she believed that life could be good.
Fate, the fickle prick, seemed set to never let peaceful moments like this last. Zyryxa awoke in the morn to the sound of beating wings and the sight of red scales glimmering in the early dawn light.