Session 24 | Chapter 1
The scent of cooking bacon pulls me from my sleep. Confusion washes over me as I take in the room around me.
When did I come inside?
Flashes of Silvyr waking Perona and I in the woods come back to me. The bite of cold numbing my body just as much as the alcohol. Inside, I remember lying on this enormous rug, lying beside her. Not directly. Gods I can’t even comprehend the thought of laying directly beside her right now. But the way the firelight danced across her face last night–her eyelids getting lazy and fluttering shut as a smile toyed at the edges of her lips–I wanted to reach my hand out so badly.
But she’s not here now. Another sleep-ladened flash plays in my mind–the sound of shuffling a few hours ago and the blanket being draped across me. I pull it closer, tucking myself into its warmth, and inhaling deep. Her smell still clings to the fibers and the ache builds.
I bite the inside of my cheek, attempting to focus myself–I have something I need to do this morning. I need answers and there’s only one being capable of giving me the direction I need.
“Here’s hoping Bahamut isn’t a late sleeper,” I say, nudging Goose with my foot to wake him.
The emerald drake groans and rolls his eyes. He lets out a yawn, exposing the sharp, glistening teeth lining the inside of his mouth, “You know he’s a god right? Gods don’t need sleep.”
“Excuse me for trying to make a joke,” I say through gritted teeth, nudging him again with my foot. “We need to get out of here though before more people wake up.”
Goose tilts his head quizzically, silently asking for clarification.
Carefully folding the blanket and placing it in the space between where we slept last night, I stand and let out a breath, “I need answers. I need…guidance on this.”
Goose cocks his head, “On your love life?”
I cough, immediately regretting the loud noise, “No! Well…I don’t know what this is or what any of this means. We have a mission, Goose. Or have you forgotten that, between all the belly rubs, we’re out here killing cultists?”
He rolls onto his back and scratches on the plush rug, wiggling his body back and forth. It was one thing when he was smaller and did this, but now that he’s grown, the sight is comical. When he’s finished, he stands and faces me squarely. “You want Bahamut to give you permission.”
The words aren’t a question, they’re a statement.
My entire life has been in servitude to Bahamut: building his following, teaching and living by his values of honor and justice, knowing all the while that all other relationships came second. Sure, people hooked up at the conclave, myself included. Gods, there were only so many hours you could stay cooped up in the temple or training before needing to work off a different type of steam. But that was always with another acolyte. They knew the level of devotion expected and demanded by the priests. Any other living creature would be second priority. It was the unspoken vow amongst bed partners.
But she is different. She doesn’t understand this, doesn’t know the expectations placed on us. She has her own expectations. My thoughts wander before I wrangle them and shove them deep into a crate in the back of my mind.
Answers first. Thoughts second.
I nod to Goose before exiting the room and immediately stop in my tracks at the sight of Raesh, covering himself only with a bedsheet, most of the fabric trailing behind him down the hall. He stops as soon as he sees me and states, “She’s leaving.” Even in my shocked state, I catch a hint of sadness in his voice.
Cautiously, I respond, knowing full well I’m going to regret asking, “Who?”
“Eva. She just walked out,” his voice hitches as he pulls the sheet up on his small frame.
Gods, did they sleep together last night? In the room beside us?
Suddenly, I’m wishing for soap and scalding water to scrub the inside of my eyes of the image of Raesh’s gnome form romping with the Valkyrie of a woman.
Shit he’s naked right now!
The ache in my chest immediately mushrooms into pure panic and my need to escape the walls of this lodge explodes.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I reply, “Um, yeah, she’s a grown woman. I think she can do what she wants.”
“Right…” Raesh responds, finally taking in the scene we’ve created in the hall. “Okay, I’m going to get dressed now.” He spins, heading back down the corridor, his bedsheet following in his wake.
A shudder climbs my spine and I whisper, “Yepp, that would be a good idea.” Goose chuckles beside me and shakes his head before leading me out the main entrance.
The frigid morning air hits me like a wall the moment I open the heavy wood door. Exiting the lodge, I’m expecting to be greeted by the aftermath of our battle yesterday, but to my surprise, the world is covered in white. Freshly fallen snow coats the world in a blanket, dampening the typical sounds of the forest as it wakes for the day.
My boots punch through the crusty surface and we make our way inside the tree line. The forest has always felt like an extension of my own being. There’s beauty in the layers of the earth–the mossen floor with tree roots tunneling beneath before gouging through to the surface. The layers of history being condensed in the soil makes me and my actions in the world feel minute.
And yet here I am. Because despite knowing the centuries of decaying animals and plant life beneath my feet exist and that one day I will join them, I do believe my actions will have an effect on this world. If they weren’t meant to change the world for the better, why would Bahamut send me Goose? Why would I gain the attention and favor of a god? To be his instrument in the world?
The crunch of our footsteps through the snowy forest sets the pace for my breathing. With each movement, I feel myself begin to slip into the trance of meditation. My body begins to vibrate with anticipation–anticipation of the peace I feel when Bahamut’s energy surrounds me, the validation of my path and purpose, the power I gain knowing his favor is with me. It’s unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.
Well, not completely unlike anything…my thoughts are jolted back to last night. My back pressed so hard against the tree trunk that I can still feel the ridged imprints it left along my shoulders. The feeling of freefall, like I was hurdling towards the ground after jumping off a cliff. Like if I opened my eyes the ground would rush up to meet me in a devastating collision. But if I kept my eyes closed, there was the softness of her finger tips intertwined in mine. The lilt of her voice carried across the cold night air. The warmth of even just her presence.
My heart begins to race as thoughts of her seep in through the cracks in my mental armor. Your mind is a fortress – remember?
Finally, when we are deep enough into the forest that we shouldn’t be disturbed by the group, I close my eyes. Darkness overtakes my vision and I let my senses extend beyond my body, reaching out for the branches above me, the rocks beneath the snow under my feet. I wait for the pull inside my chest to direct me in my meditation. The priests in the temple taught of letting your intuition guide your meditations, to let your senses reign supreme and your mind will follow into the trance. So I let my mind and body go, allowing my soul to take the lead.
I find the hilt of my swords, my arms crisscrossing my body, and unsheath them. The zing of the blades as they are freed from the scabbards sends goosebumps down my neck, along the tattoo-like mark that wraps my throat and down my shoulder. Frost crystallizes along the blades as they slice through the air.
Without opening my eyes, I move through the forest silently, in battle with an unseen foe. I lunge to the side, slicing the sword in my right hand parallel to the earth while the blade in my left cleaves downward intending to deal a fatal blow. My limbs are on fire, but rather than feeling heavy or lethargic after a few minutes, the vibration that comes with a meditative state pulses through them. Waves of energy hum through my body and I call out, begging for Bahamut to answer.
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With each moment that passes in silence, I press harder into my battle, now fighting a true foe. Fear knocks at the door to my mental fortress and I slice each blade harder and swifter to keep it at bay, to remain in this trance and reach the Platinum Dragon.
The image of his form in my last vision flashes across my mind’s eye, momentarily disrupting my flow and I stumble. Catching myself on a nearby trunk, I thrust off of it, propelling myself back into this fight. Bahamut values deeds, values action. My actions must be exact and perfect. How else did I get his attention in the woods when Goose appeared?
My actions in the temple the day of my last vision were subtle and reserved, but my mind was lethal that day, fighting for my life against the Red Wizard. There was a bite in my meditation even though it was the more peaceful of the two.
But those were about the cult, huntress. Not some juvenile, unrequited crush you have, the priest’s voice shatters my defenses. My steps falter and the tingle in my limbs evaporates instantly. I collapse onto my knees in the snow and a scream rips its way out of my throat. My swords drop to my side, disappearing into the drifts of snow, as a stream of tears cut paths along my reddened cheeks. My vocal chords burn as I suck in shallow breaths of the frigid air.
You know the answer.
Puffs of vapor billow in front of my face with each breath I release.
You know exactly what you’re supposed to do now, his tone is almost mocking as his words echo through my mind.
No…it can’t be that dire.
A tut joins the echo chamber of my brain. You know it is, huntress. You have neglected him and your duty. Why shouldn’t he turn from you too?
A single word escapes my lips between gasping breaths, “Goose.”
The drake? A lesser draconic spirit? You’re hinging your certainty in the Platinum Dragon’s favor on the presence of a flea?
An ache cuts through my chest as I feel Goose come to sit behind me, tucking his body against my back to brace my ragged form. He senses the battle waging in my mind. I know he does. But he is as powerless against this demon as I am.
You know what you must do. You know how to prove yourself, the priest spits the words like venom, You brought this on yourself–fix it.
My teeth chatter, though I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or anger, and my tears turn to steam as they fall down my face. I clench my jaw, fighting to get control of my own body as a sob wracks through me. Tilting my head to the sky above me, I cry, “I’m sorry,” praying he hears me, sees me, feels my devotion.
Mechanically, my hand reaches inside my cloak to a concealed pocket. It retrieves a small dagger made from a single dragon's scale with draconic runes etched into the hilt. It’s a stunning instrument and one I hoped I’d never have to use again after Goose’s summoning. I never dreamed my devotion would be tested like this, questioned in such a way to warrant this again.
I thought I was enough now.
Tears fall as I unfasten the cuff of my duster and roll up the sleeve of my shirt. Beneath is pale skin that immediately turns red against the cold. I grit my teeth and grip the blade firmly as I press it against the angry scars marking my forearm. As the blade pierces my flesh, I release a breath.
The first cut is always the worst, taking the most focus and courage, but the release that washes over me as my skin peels back eases the knot tightening in my chest. As I carve the draconic rune for justice, pain shooting through my veins and electrifying my blood, I speak into the forest.
“Lord of the Wind, give me strength. For I am not strong enough to stand against the evil around me. On my own, I have stumbled. I will be crushed under the tides of darkness that flood around me. I need your aid to save me from the shadows of the world…from myself.”
Completing the rune, I move on to the second, carving the symbol for devotion.
“Beacuase even as I put my sword against the foes of the people, and even though my shield guards the defenseless from evil’s claws, in time I could become exactly what I seek to abolish.”
My body shudders as I trace the third rune–wisdom. Clenching my teeth, I push into the next segment of the prayer.
“So Father, give me strength. Do not do this task for me, do not consider me a child demanding a favor–”
The priest’s scoff sets off an explosion in my mind and my grip slips on the dagger. I curse, stretch my fingers, and resume the ritual fully aware of the hypocrisy of my words.
“But, Father, give me strength so that I might do your will. Grace me with the gifts so that I might set about the tasks before me.”
My breath is hot and thick as I complete the rune and move onto the last. My body is numb at this point – from the cold or from the pain I don’t know nor do I care. My focus is solely on completing this ritual and restoring my standing with Bahamut.
The last rune–honor.
“Give me aid, but do not take the task from me. For I am eager to test myself and push on.”
With the final slice, I pray the words to be heard, to be true, before the blade drops from my hand and I surrender. My body goes limp as I fall against Goose. I slip from consciousness as a final word escapes on a breath, “Please.”
I’m not sure how long I’ve been out when Goose nudges his head beneath my tattered arm. He’s far more delicate than I’ve ever seen him, but to his credit, this is the first time he’s witnessed me complete this ritual. Momentarily my brain drifts to wonder if his spirit form saw me do this previously in the mountains–a young ranger desperate to set herself apart from the others in her conclave, to gain any upper hand in the battle for Bahamut’s blessings.
Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.
A low rumble emanates from his chest, soothing me and grounding my wandering thoughts. I lean over, dipping my forehead to rest against the scales on his back. They’ve begun hardening in the last few weeks and their edges bite against my chilled skin. He wraps his tail around my torso and pulls me tight against his body.
“Just because he didn’t answer doesn’t mean you did anything wrong,” he consoles. I find peace in his voice, even as he speaks in one of the harshest languages I’ve ever heard and spoken.
Unfortunately, it’s not enough to banish the demons haunting my mind and heart. “It doesn’t mean what I’ve done is right either,” I retort.
“And what is that exactly?” he asks, nudging into me more so my arm wraps around him. My eyes squeeze tighter and tears flood at the pressure. “You’ve made a friend,” he continues, “You’ve made a whole group of friends, who are your allies on this mission. They share the same goals as you. They have to be in your path for a reason.”
I sit up and turn to face him, feeling small and weak at this moment. He places his head on my shoulder, his breath causing the loose strands of my braid to flutter.
“Has he always answered you in the past? Even when you’ve done this?”
I clear my throat and start to get control of my tears, coming back to reality, and open my eyes. The snow around me is stained bright crimson, encircling us in a horrific scene. My breathing starts to hitch again, feeling panic building once more, but Goose purrs and grounds me. “No,” I finally reply, “He hasn’t always responded.”
Another sound of approval comes from his chest and he continues, “Okay, then let's not jump to conclusions. Or hasty actions like mutilating ourselves in a twisted ritual before breakfast in a freezing forest. I might be a spirit, but this body still detests the cold.”
I pull back from him, immediately horrified that I’ve caused him any discomfort. “Gods, you’re right! What am I thinking? We need to get you inside and warmed up before we set back on the road.”
He shakes his head and chuckles, “That sounds a little better. But where’s that gritty ranger I met in the woods who was screaming at the sky because her god didn’t answer? There was no blood offering when you summoned me. Where’s the fight that called me?”
I shrug my shoulders and a final tear slips from my eye.
“Not good enough,” he commands. “Give him hell, Maire.”
A laugh coughs out of me and I turn to the forest. Mustering what energy I have left in my broken body, I yell, “Fine! If we’re not going to talk, I’m going to eat breakfast!”
“That’s more like it,” Goose laughs, “Now get that arm bandaged or you’re going to scare the shit out of everyone inside.”