Chapter 12

CHAPTER12

The trail got steeper as they began to ascend the mountain paths, and the cool air grew into a deeper chill. They’d had to break out the blankets and cuddle close together the past few nights, and even if Tristan had wanted to, he didn’t think he could have fucked in that cold. Opal was content to cuddle, at least, and their shared warmth made the nights more bearable.

Breathing in Opal’s scent made the cravings for alcohol less immediate, too.

It was probably a good thing he wasn’t drinking as much. The path was unsteady enough even with Tristan in full control of his limbs. They were following the compass as directly as they could, but it, of course, couldn’t tell them more than the general direction… which was past this uneven territory. Feather picked her way over it, trudging along beside them, and Tristan absently patted her flank. She deserved carrots and apples after all of this for certain, and he’d shower her with both soon.

His thoughts kept wandering, and even though Opal chattered on like usual, Tristan couldn’t pay much attention to him.

Well.

That wasn’t entirely true.

His thoughts consisted entirely of Opal, of how Opal didn’t seem to trust him. Maybe he was scarred, or maybe he was just incredibly self-conscious.

It could’ve been that Tristan had been incredibly obtuse.

Opal had professed his love to him. Tristan probably should’ve said the words back, but he didn’t know if that was how he felt.

If he was to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he really didn’t deserve the love and admiration of someone like Opal. He was no knight out of a fairy tale. He drank and cursed, and he’d realized he was a little selfish in bed, and he didn’t even know how he felt.

A shout froze his thoughts, though, before he could mull over it too much—again—and Tristan’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “Stay behind me,” he ordered Opal, even though he was fully aware that Opal could protect himself.

Tristan wanted to be the one to keep Opal safe.

Feather shied back, clearly not wanting to get any closer to the conflict.

“Hold on to Feather,” Tristan added.

For once, Opal didn’t complain about dealing with the horse. He licked his lips and nodded. “There’s magic here,” he said, following behind Tristan.

Tristan glanced at him, his hackles rising as he heard another sound—an inhuman screech, something that sent chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He didn’t want to charge in without knowing the situation, but there was another shout he couldn’t make sense of. “Do you recognize that sound?” he asked tersely as he quickened his steps in the direction of the altercation.

“That’s definitely a wyvern,” Opal said in a hushed tone. “It sounds like it’s only one? That’s strange. They’re usually found in packs… but we’re a bit far still from the cliff faces where wyverns like to roost.”

Tristan cursed under his breath. Phassis was under siege from so many directions, and the last thing they needed was a plague of wyverns on top of all of that. Well, he’d help rid the realm of this one, at least.

He took a few more cautious steps forward until he could see the fight shaping up in front of them. To his shock, he realized he recognized one of the figures—Izar’s long white hair and spectacles were distinct enough to have lingered in his memory. He didn’t want to call out, not wanting to distract the sorcerer from his fight with the wyvern, but he quickly took stock of the situation.

His sword wouldn’t stay sharp for long against a wyvern—which was one of the many reasons he needed to find the sword the compass led them slowly toward—but he could still step in. “Are wyverns immune to fire?” he asked Opal as he drew his weapon.

“Not immune, but a little fire resistant. I’m just going to stand… right there,” Opal said, pointing to a spot well away from where the fighting was taking place. “And I’ll enjoy watching you defeat that stupid, boorish beast.”

Pleased that Opal was going to let him handle this, he nodded quickly. “Stay far back, then,” he said, and he charged forward with his sword aloft.

Izar was flung backwards by the wyvern, but a strong wind slowed his fall before he slammed into the rocky outcropping.

“Fuck,” Izar growled, stumbling to his feet. He noticed Tristan then, his eyes widening, and he adjusted his glasses. “Stand back. I can handle this beast.”

The wyvern roared and rushed forward—at Tristan, not at the sorcerer.

Tristan ignored Izar, slashing at the creature with all the vigor he could muster. With Opal watching, he couldn’t falter or fail; his ego simply wouldn’t be able to handle it if he was injured or maimed by the wyvern. This would be good training when he went up against the wyvern’s bigger, stronger cousins, too.

Like a dragon, a wyvern was a giant, hideous lizard, with sharp fangs and talons, and wings that would allow it to swoop down on prey. But it was smaller than a dragon, not even half the size of one, and it lacked the characteristic dragon horns and fiery breath.

The wyvern snapped its maw at Tristan, and he dodged out of the way fast enough to slash the side of its head. His sword managed to cut through scales enough to draw blood, and the beast howled in pain.

While it thrashed, Izar clutched his necklaces. His mouth moved as if he was chanting, and a second later, a large bolt of ice shattered against the wyvern’s side, narrowly missing Tristan.

Tristan cursed, stepping back. “Careful!” he shouted. “I’m working with you, not against you, damn it!”

Izar shook his head. “I told you, I can handle it.”

The wyvern didn’t care about their disagreement. It leaped up into the air, this time swooping down on Izar. He avoided the attack only by shooting more ice crystals at the beast, thus redirecting its course just enough to leap out of the way.

Tristan didn’t want to let Izar take care of this by himself. He wanted to impress Opal, who was trusting Tristan to keep him safe. He growled, pressing the attack anyway and slicing through the thing’s scales once more. It was freely bleeding where it wasn’t displaying patches of ice, and its wings weren’t flapping as vigorously as they could’ve been. All they had to do was wear it down just a little more…

Suddenly, the wyvern’s head snapped in the other direction, and it shot forward—toward Opal and Feather.

Opal let go of Feather’s reins and yelped, running to the side. “Shoo! You don’t want me, you stupid beast!”

Feather dashed in the opposite direction, and the beast seemed torn between Opal and the horse before ultimately going for Opal.

Tristan cried out in alarm, and he rushed to catch the beast’s attention again. “Over here!” he shouted. “Leave him alone!”

The wyvern let out a loud roar and snapped its maw at Opal, who leapt out of the way with surprising speed.

“Are you serious?” Opal cried out. “Can’t you let me just have this one thing?” He stopped running and turned to face the beast, his back to Tristan now. His hair was no longer tied back in a ponytail, and he widened his stance despite the skirt.

The wyvern growled at Opal, jaw gaping wide.

Tristan yelled again, panic surging through him as the creature focused on Opal. He couldn’t let anything happen to him. Opal could send fireballs at him, though, so he wasn’t entirely helpless, but Tristan wanted to be the rescuer, the knight in shining armor Opal saw him as.

But the wyvern then leaped into the air, jumping over Opal and back toward Tristan and Izar.

Relief flooded Tristan, which was likely a sign that he was going insane because he shouldn’t have wanted a wyvern focused on him.

Izar clutched another one of his many necklaces. “I’m going to freeze it in place. Use your sword once it’s incapacitated.” Then he set his gaze on the wyvern and moved his lips silently once more.

Tristan didn’t bother to reply, only settling into an offensive stance.

The blast of ice was impressive, and it held the thing’s feet against the ground. The wyvern roared, but it couldn’t advance on either of them. Tristan took advantage of that to slash his sword across its neck, severing the head from the rest of the body. Blood gushed everywhere, freezing where it came in contact with the sorcerer’s magic. Some of it splattered on Tristan’s face, but he didn’t dare wipe it away until the creature stopped moving.

It was dead.

If only a dragon would go down as easily.

Tristan stood there, breathing hard, his own limbs feeling like they were weighed down by ice. His breath was sharp in his lungs and throat.

“You did it!” Opal shouted, and when Tristan blinked, he suddenly had Opal’s arms wrapped around him. Opal kissed Tristan’s jaw and cheeks, completely heedless of the blood. “My dashing knight!”

Tristan stroked Opal’s hair. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“No hug and kiss for my own services?” Izar said as he wiped his glasses. “I did most of the work.”

Tristan turned his head to glare at the sorcerer, his hand tightening a little in Opal’s hair.

Opal’s kissing slowed and peered over at the sorcerer. “Oh, you’re that sorcerer… Izar? What are you doing out here?”

Izar put his glasses back on and walked over to the decapitated wyvern’s head. “I ran out of ingredients, and I was coming out here to restock.” He unsheathed a carving knife from around his belt and drove it into the wyvern’s open maw. Several of the teeth broke off.

Opal’s embrace tightened, and his mouth curled in disgust. “Ingredients… you mean, wyvern parts? What kind of magic would you need those for?”

Tristan wrapped an arm around Opal in turn, pulling him close. “Why does it matter?” he asked in bewilderment. “It’s only a wyvern.”

“Are you going to eat it, at least?” Opal hedged, ignoring Tristan’s question. “I know it’s just a dumb beast, but doing magic with even a dead wyvern feels wrong.”

Izar leveled his gaze at Opal. “This is how all my powerful spells are made. Including the one I sold to you.”

Opal’s hand went up to his chest, but there was nothing there.

“The brooch you lost in the swamp?” Tristan asked, curious about its origin.

“Yeah, that one. It’s not important. It was just a small trinket.” Opal clutched Tristan harder. “Let’s get going. That stench is going to attract other things.”

Tristan frowned, not quite liking the situation. “But he just said it was powerful magic, not a trinket.” Something was nagging at him, something he didn’t quite like, and he hesitated, watching Izar.

Izar was draining the wyvern’s blood into a few vials. The scene was a bit grotesque, but no more so than any hunter dressing a kill, Tristan supposed—for all that hunters didn’t ordinarily take samples of blood to take home with them.

“How fares your journey, by the way? Has your compass led you to where you want to go?” Izar asked.

“It’s going well,” Tristan said vaguely, though he knew it was apparent they were making slow progress. They were only a few days out of Bresson, and who knew how far they’d have to continue going? It could be weeks before they reached the final destination the compass was pointing to. “And I assume it’s leading me to the right place.” Considering how expensive the spell had been, Tristan damn well hoped it had been accurate.

He still wanted to know about the spell Opal had purchased, though.

“It’s definitely leading us to the right place,” Opal said with a confidence Tristan couldn’t match. “And once we find it, we’ll… um…”

For some reason, Izar started laughing. “Since you’re both here, would you mind helping me remove the hide? Wyvern scales aren’t as potent as dragon scales, but they’ll do. And I want to get the heart, too.”

Opal inhaled sharply. “No. Let’s go, Tristan. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Tristan cast a quizzical look in Opal’s direction. “We can stay and help. It’ll be good practice for when I kill a dragon. I’m not accustomed to skinning lizards.”

Opal pressed his lips together and let go of Tristan. “Fine. You do that. I’m going to… to find water. And wash up. I’ll find and water your horse, too.”

Tristan couldn’t figure out why Opal was so unsettled by this. Was it a mage thing that Tristan simply didn’t understand? “All right,” he said. Maybe he could find out from Izar what sort of “trinket” Opal had gotten from him.

He watched as Opal jogged back to the main trail, calling out for the “stupid horse.” Tristan shook his head. He didn’t understand why Opal had such a problem with the horse, and now with Izar. At least Izar hadn’t just killed the wyvern and left it to rot!

Izar smiled at Tristan’s approach. “Thank you. I can do it myself, but it’ll be faster with somebody else around to help.”

They worked mostly in silence, Izar showing Tristan how to make the cuts so that the scales would be preserved.

When they were almost done, Tristan glanced in the direction Opal had gone. “What trinket did he buy?” he asked as casually as he could manage. Opal had said the brooch had been some sort of magical item, that it had been to bring luck, but… It still felt like there was a piece of the puzzle he wasn’t quite putting together.

Izar chuckled softly. “A charm he probably could have made himself. I had no idea why he wanted it, but I’m not going to turn down a good sale.” Then he looked at Tristan, his glasses reflecting the light in such a way that Tristan couldn’t see his eyes. “Why are you traveling with him?”

Tristan frowned. He didn’t want to tell Izar anything about his… relationship with Opal. “I enjoy his company,” he said, his voice stilted. “And he’s been very helpful.” Even though Opal was fascinated with dragons, he was still willing to take on this journey with Tristan.

“I suppose that means he’ll be with you when you find it. That’s kind of clever—unless he means to take it from you.”

That didn’t make any sense. Tristan eyed Izar, not knowing what to say.

Izar plunged his knife into the wyvern’s sternum and began cutting away at the flesh. “Save the dragon horns for me, would you? Or… well, I wouldn’t mind helping you fell a dragon, if it comes down to it. The sword should be potent, but unlike wyverns, dragons are clever. And they have other tricks up their sleeves.”

“I wouldn’t turn down the help,” Tristan said, though a little grudgingly because he wasn’t sure he wanted yet another person on his quest. Still, killing dragons was going to be difficult, to put it lightly. “The hardest part will be tracking them down.” He sighed. That was a problem for another day. He would find the dragon who killed his brother and destroy it, though, even if it killed him along the way.

Izar paused in his carving. “You… don’t know where to find a dragon?”

Tristan stiffened, not wanting to have to admit his ignorance. “No, but the sorceress at court reassured me that she’d be working on a charm to find them while I sought out the sword. Phassis deserves to be free of those creatures, lest we end up with a dragon-consort on our throne!”

“The only thing those creatures are good for is to power spells,” Izar agreed. He whispered a spell, then plunged his hand into the hole he’d made in the wyvern’s chest. When he withdrew his hand, he was holding the beast’s heart, blood dripping down his arm. “If I found a dragon for you, would you aid me in killing it? I need those dragon horns.”

“Of course,” Tristan said readily. “Especially if there’s one in Phassis…” He was torn between fascination and horror at the way Izar was able to simply pluck out the creature’s heart.

Suddenly Opal yelped, and Feather trotted over to them with Opal trying to grab her reins. “You stupid horse!” Opal stopped next to Izar and Tristan, his nose flaring out in disgust. “Are you done? Just roast the damn thing and eat it. That would be faster.”

Tristan got up from where he’d been crouching down, taking Feather’s reins. He smoothed his hands along her dusty coat, murmuring soothing words to her. “Why does it bother you that he’s making full use of the entire thing? That’s the way of it.”

“I just think it’s grotesque to use living creatures as magical ingredients. Nobody’s killing humans for magical parts, are they?” Opal glared at Izar. “I take back what I said about you being a good sorcerer. Clearly you have no natural talents of your own, and I’m very glad I lost the brooch.”

Izar laughed as he placed the bloody heart inside a satchel. “You’d be surprised what some people do for magic. Although, no, I would not cut up a human. They don’t have enough magic to make it worth it.”

“See? Then you’re safe, Opal, and it doesn’t much matter,” Tristan said, feeling a little impatient. “Do we want to make a fire and eat it?” His lip curled a little in distaste. “I don’t know what wyvern tastes like, though. It’s probably tough.”

Izar went back to the wyvern and carved a large chunk of flesh off its torso. “Feel free. I’d say it’s more tender than a basilisk, but I’ve never bothered to cook with it.”

Opal curled his lip and shook his head. “No, thank you.” Then he turned back to the main path. “I’m going to continue. I’ll wait for you… somewhere up ahead, where it doesn’t smell like death.”

He flounced off with a huff, disappearing somewhere around the trail bend—for all that this area even had trails. If he got too far, there was a good chance he’d get lost out here.

Tristan wished he had a drink to help him get through this. It always seemed to help when he didn’t know what to do.

He sighed, packed up some of the wyvern flesh, then tugged at Feather’s reins. “Well. You enjoy your… gathering. I’m going to go see what’s wrong with Opal.” He shook his head. “Best of luck. I’ll find you after I’ve acquired the sword. I’d ask if you’d like to accompany us, but…” He grimaced. As much as he wanted the help with killing a dragon, he didn’t want to upset Opal any more either.

“That’s all right. I’ll be in the area for a while still.” Izar wiped his hands off with a cloth, then reached into his satchel. He pulled out a simple braided bracelet and handed it to Tristan. “Here. Rip that if you want to get in touch with me. I’ll be able to sense your location.”

That was a little… awkward. He didn’t know if he’d like Izar being able to track him, but at the same time, it wouldn’t be bad to have extra magical back-up when he faced a dragon.

Especially with Opal acting like this, and his fascination with dragons. Tristan had to remind himself he couldn’t count on Opal to fight at his side, no matter what Opal kept saying about true love and always supporting him.

Tristan slid the bracelet onto his wrist with a nod of thanks. “Be safe out here. It’s dangerous, even for sorcerers.” He offered a strained smile then took Feather’s reins and followed in the direction Opal had gone in. Great. Now he was going to have to try to calm him down, and he didn’t even know why Opal was so upset in the first place.

Opal was surprisingly nimble on the rocky landscape, apparently, because it took Tristan a good ten minutes to catch up to him even though he hadn’t had much of a head start. Tristan even half-worried he’d lose the trail entirely, especially with how Feather balked at the uneven footing, but Opal hadn’t done a good job of hiding his path.

He found Opal sitting at the edge of a cliff, feet dangling over the side. A breeze had Opal’s hair fluttering gently in the wind as Opal looked out over the landscape.

Tristan drew in a deep breath, trying to figure out what to even say. He walked up beside Opal, feeling his stomach drop as he stared down over the cliffside. It would be so easy to tumble over it. “You should come away from the edge,” Tristan said quietly. “It’s dangerous there.”

“It’s fine,” Opal said a little mulishly. “And even if I stupidly ended up at the bottom, at least my corpse would be so splintered that nobody would use it for parts.”

Tristan winced. He should’ve noticed just how much that had bothered Opal—or rather, he should’ve done the smart thing and ushered Opal away instead of lingering to speak with Izar.

“I’m sorry,” Tristan said. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. If I had been, we’d have left immediately.”

“It wouldn’t change the fact that Izar is dissecting the wyvern. And that you were happy to do it, too.” Opal fidgeted with his hands, still not looking at Tristan. “This is why…” But he cut himself off before he finished that sentence.

Tristan frowned. “Why…?” he prompted.

“Doesn’t matter.” Opal pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. “Let’s find your stupid sword. I bet it’s in that cave I can see over there. It looks like a significant magical cave with traps and magic and whatever.”

Tristan glanced in that direction, not even seeing a cave. Even if he had, he didn’t know what made one look significant. He was more worried about Opal though than trying to figure out magical caves.

“It’s upsetting you, so it does matter,” Tristan said. He itched to move closer, to put his hand on Opal’s shoulder and try to comfort him, but he didn’t want to startle him or upset him more. “We can wait a little while and just talk. All right?”

Even though speaking to Izar had reopened those wounds, had made the dark urges to slaughter all dragons and let the sorcerer have them for parts, Tristan found that he cared more for Opal than the sword.

Strange.

“I know it’s your whole knightly quest. Find a sword, slay a bunch of dragons. Although I still think you could get away with slaying one dragon. Nobody goes around slaughtering all humans just to get revenge for what one human did.” Opal sighed and finally scooted away from the edge and closer to Tristan. “But it doesn’t have to be a gruesome quest, does it? I just…” He made a frustrated sound. “It doesn’t seem right. That’s all.”

Tristan frowned at him. “But I don’t know which dragon was responsible. And they’re all dangerous, Opal. I know… I know you have a fascination with dragons, but they’re deadly creatures. Would you fault me if I wanted to slay all basilisks? Or wyverns? Why are dragons different for you?”

“You shouldn’t kill all basilisks!” Opal said fervently. “And wyverns… they’re dumb creatures, but if they aren’t bothering you, why go out of your way to kill them? It’s not like you’re eating them. You just want them dead because you’re afraid of them.”

Tristan recoiled, his mouth falling open even though he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Yes, he was afraid, but… He wanted to prevent other people from losing their brothers, their loved ones, too.

Opal rubbed his eyes, then looked up with a strained smile. “But it’s fine! Sorry. This is your quest! I need to respect that. Every knight has a quest. And when the quest is done, we’ll get a do-over on everything, and it’ll be…” Opal pointed off into the distance. “The compass points there, right?”

Tristan sighed, weary to his bones. Would there be an end to the quest? Once he started killing dragons… It was only a matter of time until one of them got lucky and killed him first. They were said to be clever creatures—clever enough to convince a king to marry one, which was all sorts of wrong.

“It points in that direction,” Tristan said carefully. He squinted. “You said something about a cave?”

“I bet it’s not even a good cave.” Opal stood and dusted off his skirt. “I bet it has like, five layers of magical barriers, and booby-traps, and very tasteless skeletons lounging near the entrance. My brother used to keep skeletons by his entrance to scare off visitors, only then he got married, and why does he get a perfect romance?”

Tristan went still at that, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Opal. “Your brother kept skeletons at the entrance of his… cave?” He couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly.

Opal raised his head. “The entrance of his home. He barely lives there anymore, anyway. Moved in with his spouse, in a lovely fairy tale castle with a fairy tale love and a fairy tale wedding and…”

Tristan kept staring, caught on the fact that Opal’s brother had skeletons outside of his home for a moment, that he lived in a castle, that he had all of these things… It sounded so strange, especially since Opal had said he wasn’t a noble. What kind of person kept skeletons?

Before he could sort out his thoughts and speak, though, Opal’s lip wibbled like he was about to cry, and Tristan felt his heart break a little.

“And I’m here, and you’re going to dump me once you find that sword so you can go murder a bunch of dragons and carve them up for parts and sell them to the highest bidder.”

“I’m…” Helplessness suffused him, distracting him from his uncertainty, and Tristan sighed and looked away. “I’m not going to dump you. I enjoy having you at my side, and you’ve been a boon in so many senses of the word.” He let go of Feather’s reins and went to Opal, wrapping an arm around him. “I don’t want to lose you, Opal.”

And he didn’t, which made him feel all sorts of emotions he’d never felt before. His stomach fluttered like there were butterflies in it, just the way all the old tales described that feeling he didn’t want to put words to. He squeezed his arm more tightly around Opal, both wishing he could say the words but knowing all of this was temporary.

Opal returned the embrace, burying his head against Tristan’s shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you either. You are my treasure.” He took a few shuddering breaths, then looked up again and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this. Maybe the magic in the air is getting to me.”

“It’s all right,” Tristan said. He reluctantly pulled away and stood, offering a hand out to Opal. “Let’s continue and see where this trail leads us. If the cave you mentioned isn’t adorned with skeletons and other ill omens, perhaps we can even find a place to spend the night.”

“Okay,” Opal said with another sniff. “I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t have at least five skeletons though. And some sort of spike trap. How do you think people in the stories built those, anyway? I’ve never been anywhere where stepping on a tile caused arrows to rain down on me.”

Tristan found himself smiling a little at that. He caught Feather’s reins, pulling her closer to him. “We’ll proceed with caution,” he promised Opal. “So we don’t have to find out firsthand how they work.”

They managed to get back to a more well-trodden path, and Opal’s mood seemed to lift enough to ease Tristan’s worries.

Still, it felt like he had to do something to reinforce his own commitment to… whatever it was he had with Opal.

He didn’t want Opal running off for real.