upchuck all that I’d drank, soiling my mother’s rug, so I just sat back and tried to figure out what had happened. I remembered the festival, the magic log ride, Daija. I remembered the tapestry and the old woman, and training, and study hall, and then … what had happened next? I’d been exploring the study. No, I’d come back to the desk. The parchment was gone. Then I felt sick and I fell. And now I was home? None of it made any sense.
I tried calling for my mother, and then my father. The only reply I got was from a songbird, perched outside a window. The small green bird’s radiant feathers were giving off a silver glimmer in the light of late afternoon. Beyond, I saw golden buds beginning to sprout on vines that were wrapped around plain cedar trellises in my mother’s garden. So it was Late Stone then, or even Coming Flame. I did some math in my head and realized that meant I must have been out cold for at least five or six weeks. Five or six weeks! I was going to be so behind in my training. I wondered if that was why I was at home, and not cooped up with the apothecary in the great keep. Had I been expelled from the academy because I’d missed too much?
I never imagined a situation where I’d just be allowed to return home. A failed Stone Soul, but without having to go into battle with a dragon at all. I could live a normal life, I could learn a profession, maybe woodworking from my father. Hang up my sword forever and let the likes of Walker and Bayrd shoulder that burden. But now that wasn’t what I wanted. I was finally ready to face my destiny, to train hard and have the best shot I could have when facing a dragon, and I’d missed out on all this time. Could I really just walk away from it all? I could find Daija, ask her to start a new life with me. That was something. If she’d even have me.
I thought about Boe, and wondered if he’d written to me. I wondered what he’d written to Daija, if she was worried about me. I thought that maybe she might even be traveling here to help watch over me, or could maybe already be here in the house unaware that I was awake. I called out, “Daija!” and then I heard a door swing open and then rapid, heavy footsteps approaching. I smiled and sat upright, not wanting to give the impression of an invalid, no longer worrying about keeping the brew down. It was a mistake, I didn’t keep the brew down. I was hunched forward, spitting dry tendrils of celeryroot onto my mother’s rug when the footsteps entered the room. I wiped my mouth and looked up, slowly.
It was my father. He took a look at me, then looked down at the rug. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked over to me and lifted me from the recliner, wrapping his thick arms around me in an enveloping embrace.
“My son,” he said.
I pushed free of the hug and smiled humbly up at him. I found that I could keep my balance as long as I concentrated on staying upright. I tried to think of a way to ask my father what would happen next, what was expected of me. It was difficult to put together the words.
“We need to get you back to your training.”
That answered that.
CHAPTER SIX
Walker
My father and I spent some time talking on the several day journey back to the Rægena academy. That is, we didn’t talk a whole lot, but you can end up still saying a whole lot over the course of several days if you add it all together. He told me that the academy waited three weeks to write to them about my condition, and that as soon as they’d heard he had ridden to the academy and brought me back home with him, against the Rector’s strict wishes. He said that my mother believed she could help me recover faster and better than they could. It was hard to argue with her results; now that I’d had some time for my head to clear and my muscles to wake up, I did feel better than I had in a long time.
I told my father about the festival and details about the fight that I’d won, and how I was the only
I tried calling for my mother, and then my father. The only reply I got was from a songbird, perched outside a window. The small green bird’s radiant feathers were giving off a silver glimmer in the light of late afternoon. Beyond, I saw golden buds beginning to sprout on vines that were wrapped around plain cedar trellises in my mother’s garden. So it was Late Stone then, or even Coming Flame. I did some math in my head and realized that meant I must have been out cold for at least five or six weeks. Five or six weeks! I was going to be so behind in my training. I wondered if that was why I was at home, and not cooped up with the apothecary in the great keep. Had I been expelled from the academy because I’d missed too much?
I never imagined a situation where I’d just be allowed to return home. A failed Stone Soul, but without having to go into battle with a dragon at all. I could live a normal life, I could learn a profession, maybe woodworking from my father. Hang up my sword forever and let the likes of Walker and Bayrd shoulder that burden. But now that wasn’t what I wanted. I was finally ready to face my destiny, to train hard and have the best shot I could have when facing a dragon, and I’d missed out on all this time. Could I really just walk away from it all? I could find Daija, ask her to start a new life with me. That was something. If she’d even have me.
I thought about Boe, and wondered if he’d written to me. I wondered what he’d written to Daija, if she was worried about me. I thought that maybe she might even be traveling here to help watch over me, or could maybe already be here in the house unaware that I was awake. I called out, “Daija!” and then I heard a door swing open and then rapid, heavy footsteps approaching. I smiled and sat upright, not wanting to give the impression of an invalid, no longer worrying about keeping the brew down. It was a mistake, I didn’t keep the brew down. I was hunched forward, spitting dry tendrils of celeryroot onto my mother’s rug when the footsteps entered the room. I wiped my mouth and looked up, slowly.
It was my father. He took a look at me, then looked down at the rug. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked over to me and lifted me from the recliner, wrapping his thick arms around me in an enveloping embrace.
“My son,” he said.
I pushed free of the hug and smiled humbly up at him. I found that I could keep my balance as long as I concentrated on staying upright. I tried to think of a way to ask my father what would happen next, what was expected of me. It was difficult to put together the words.
“We need to get you back to your training.”
That answered that.
CHAPTER SIX
Walker
My father and I spent some time talking on the several day journey back to the Rægena academy. That is, we didn’t talk a whole lot, but you can end up still saying a whole lot over the course of several days if you add it all together. He told me that the academy waited three weeks to write to them about my condition, and that as soon as they’d heard he had ridden to the academy and brought me back home with him, against the Rector’s strict wishes. He said that my mother believed she could help me recover faster and better than they could. It was hard to argue with her results; now that I’d had some time for my head to clear and my muscles to wake up, I did feel better than I had in a long time.
I told my father about the festival and details about the fight that I’d won, and how I was the only
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