“I’ve never been afraid of anything. Never. Only reckless when I should have been cautious,” Targath lamented, his voice quiet in the crisp, evening air. “Today, I experienced real fear. I almost lost her, Zeke.”
On the back porch of a modest house, two wooden chairs sat angled toward one another, while their occupants indulged in a reprieve. Ezekiel filled one seat, the ties of his shirt loosened and hanging open at the top. Targath’s long arms and legs overflowed from the other chair, torso tightly bandaged from chest to navel, and around his shoulders.
Ezekiel lifted his mug and casually asked, “Are you that worried Draconiam’s facing the end of days? Or are you finally a believer that Kilena has the strength to save us all?”
The small, misshapen shack that Ezekiel repaired after vampires attacked stood a short distance away from them, the glow of a dim fire escaping from underneath a crooked front door.
“No. Well, yes, but neither,” Targath said sullenly, tipping his mug slightly. Warmth from the sun diminished as it neared the horizon, sending a chill over his exposed skin, a patchwork of stitches and bandages holding him together. “When I first put the amulet back on her… nothing happened,” he elaborated, reliving that hopeless sensation before turning to conviction. “And all I could think about was that Lana was right. I care about her more than I can admit, and I failed to protect the only thing I’ve ever cared about. I can’t let that happen again.”
“I see you’re more worried about her than recovering from your own injuries.” Ezekiel scanned Targath’s face for the scoff he huffed.
“Thanks to you and Agnes, I’ll be fine,” Targath assured. “If they really wanted me dead, I would be.”
Ezekiel expressed a breath that shrank his shoulders. “There was a time I thought I cared about Kilena just as deeply, but I was wrong. She’s an amazing person, and strong willed. The life she lives is perilous and I’m not made for that. Not anymore. Giving up thievery means turning my back on the life of adventure. I realized that when I met Agnes. To follow Kilena’s example, the only option I had was to settle down and help people in my own way, no matter how small,” he ruminated. “There was no stopping her. Kilena would have gone with or without you. I’m grateful you were with her, because if it was me instead we’d both be dead. You saved her life, and Draconiam will thank you one day.”
“I shouldn’t be thanked,” Targath said distantly, gaze drifting toward the shack. “I’m no hero. She is. I’m just a fool.”
Ezekiel chuckled, “Better a living fool than a dead fool.”
A half-hearted laugh emanated from Targath’s throat. “I’ll drink to that.” In unison, they leaned closer. Their wooden mugs clicked, and together they chugged the rest of their ale. In silence, they absorbed the tranquil, village atmosphere. Raised voices of a parent calling for or scolding children, doors and windows closing up for the night, and the intermittent woof of an excited dog. Then, Targath asked, “Did Kilena ever tell you why she isn’t a knight anymore?”
“Aye,” Ezekiel replied, reclining in the chair. “It’s been to her benefit, and ours, that she isn’t serving any one kingdom. She was at the right place and the right time to help me.”
“She seems to understand that now. Roselake’s king sent the very man who expelled her to offer her a place in the Iron Rose order again. She said no.”
Ezekiel knitted his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Why?”
“For reasons of wisdom that should be beyond her years,” Targath continued, returning his golden eyes to his friend. “She’d be restricted to Roselake, but without an order she’s free to help anyone and can prove her worth without the leverage of an official title. In my eyes, she’ll always be the shining example of a what a knight should be.”
“She’s grown up so much,” Ezekiel joked. “That happens when someone faces as many challenges as she does. Did she ever tell you how we met?”
Targath shook his head loosely. “Enlighten me. How did our knight save you?”
Through a couple more rounds of ale poured by Agnes stepping out to check on them, Targath heard about the tomb at Crowedge. He learned how Kilena guided Ezekiel until his mind healed, such as the incident when he exchanged a ruby for a horse. Targath listened intently to the tale of Cadence, and how Kilena grieved after failing to protect him from Edith. Then Ezekiel dove into more detail about the innkeeper that tried to swindle Kilena out of more money than a room with two beds was worth. In conclusion, he said, “Kilena has been nothing less than compassionate to anyone she meets.”
“Despite her kindness, she won’t let anyone take advantage of her,” Targath said admirably, tipping back his mug to drain the last of his fourth mug of ale. “So, you never met Kilena’s mother?”
“Never had the privilege,” Ezekiel answered, licking ale from his lips. “Why?”
“She’s nice. Bold, too. At first, she didn’t trust me. No one in their right mind does. After we killed Ginroy, that changed. She made me promise to protect Kilena with my life.” Targath pinched the corner of his mouth into a frown. “Then hinted that she still needs to consider a husband.”
“At least someone has that poor girl’s future in mind, because it isn’t her. If she had her way, she would protect people until she can’t even stand anymore,” Ezekiel .
Targath vaguely nodded, and then continued. “My reaction annoyed me the most. I told them no. I’d make a terrible husband, especially for someone as noble as Kilena. At first, she was blushing. Adorably, I might add,” he recalled with a mirthless chuckle. “But when I said no, she gave me this look like I’d just snatched the sun out of the sky. Kilena agreed in a roundabout sort of way, and said I’d make a faithful companion for someone. Not for her, for someone. Then like an idiot I only reinforced the idea that our time as companions is only temporary. If anyone would make a good companion for someone, it’s Kilena. Not me.”
Ezekiel derisively scoffed. “Congratulations. You win the biggest idiot in history award.”
“You’re lucky I can barely make a fist right now,” Targath retorted with a scowl.
“Targath, her father might be dead, but if you break Kilena’s heart I will step up and break you in his place. Remember what I told you about Cadence? How she saw the good in him when I couldn’t? If Kilena sees something good in you, then I believe her. Don’t take that for granted.”
“But there isn’t,” Targath dejectedly mumbled into his empty mug.
Ezekiel exhaled a gravelly sigh, and with a roll of his eyes ran his fingers back through his short mane of dirty blonde hair. “The point is, if you care about her, stop lying to yourself. She cares about you, too. You should’ve seen how she stood up for you to that guard and demanded more time for your recovery. Before that, I didn’t know she could be angry. Not to mention the state of grief she’s been in thinking she’s going to lose you. I almost gave her a cup of the medicine you drank to make her rest.”
Targath asked, “If she does feel that strongly, why hasn’t she brought it up?”
“Because she’s innocent,” Ezekiel countered, the reason plain as the moon above. “Well, virtuous might be a better term. The look on her face when the inn owner tried to rent us a room with one bed was enough to tell me that,” he chuckled reminiscently. “She loves her friends and family with all of her heart, but I’d bet she has no idea what it’s like to be romantic.”
“But of all people, why me?” Targath exclaimed. “When we first met, I did nothing but try to find ways to make money off of her and her dragon. I threatened to sell her off to vampires. And after getting her away from Julian, I told her to forget I exist.”
“As if I have a clue.” Ezekiel shook his head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to people hating you on sight. I didn’t think very highly of you at first either.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he grated in retort. “You sucked Julian’s tit so hard I never thought you’d let go.”
“Yeah, and look where that got me,” Ezekiel groaned. “It might be that she cares about other people so much she doesn’t realize how little she cares about herself. When I told her I was staying at Warchester, I got the feeling I wasn’t the first companion to ever walk away. She just smiled and wished me the best.”
Targath sighed, “That girl is something else. She must’ve thought me an ass for trying to push her away.”
“More than likely,” he admonished.
“Remember her face when I first showed up here? She lit up like the dawn after a stormy night,” Targath reminisced. “Heh. No one’s ever been so happy to see me.”
“On top of that, you’re a cursed elf and she’s human. You have different life spans, and you look completely different.”
Leaning forward with a pained groan, Targath moved his elbows to his thighs and his head between his knees to stretch out his stiff back. “I don’t want to put her through that, Zeke. She should find a human man that makes her happy,” he reluctantly said. “Not me.”
Ezekiel shook his head. “The thing is, she’s constantly being told to give up the sword, but she refuses to listen. Her best friend is a dragon no one else can understand. Kilena doesn’t fit in with society’s expectations. What I’m trying to say is that she wouldn’t care what people think or say, as long as she’s happy.”
Targath straightened his back, wincing and hissing on the way to sit upright in the creaking chair. His gaze lifted from staring into the pit of his empty mug and fixated on the door of the shack, so intently it was like he could see her through the misshapen lumber.
“You’re one lucky bastard,” Ezekiel said to break the silence. “Don’t let her slip away.”
As if Targath had willed it, the door to the shack at the other end of the dirt path swung open, and Kilena emerged. Rubbing sleep from one eye above a round cheek, she searched the sky and then settled on two men seated on the back porch. A broad smile erased the drowsiness, and she hurried toward them. She only stopped when her arms closed around Targath’s neck, and he grimaced in protest. “Thank the god dragons you’re awake.”
He choked, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. The mug in his fingers slipped and clattered. Gradually, he rested a hand on the small of her back before fully enveloping her with both his arms. No matter the pain shooting through his ribs or the ache in his arms, he embraced her. Bereft of armor, only leather and cloth separating their torsos, he became achingly aware of the fragility she disguised. His hands threaded through her mahogany brown hair, relishing the intimate moment. “Kilena,” he breathed warmly with a smile. “No, thank the god dragons you’re safe. I thought I’d lost you.”
Ezekiel smiled to himself, then stood up with a sidelong look toward Targath and quietly walked inside.
“No, no it’s because of you,” she exclaimed. “I spoke with Synu at the bridge between life and death. She said Amodeus forced my spirit out of my body and replaced it with corruption. You returned the amulet to me, and because of that she could restore my spirit.”
“Heh,” he grunted, squeezing words through his throat. “Guess I’m not such a bad guy after all.”
Hearing the strain in Targath’s voice, Kilena broke the embrace and stepped back. He reluctantly let her slide out of his arms, hands sliding away from her slender waist. “My apologies, you must be in much pain still,” she realized with rounded eyes.
“I am, but I don’t mind,” Targath said with a relieved smile. “Why don’t you sit with me? We can talk about your conversation with Synu.”
Kilena sat in the chair where Ezekiel had been, delicately adding herself to its space, and regaled Targath with the unbelievable encounter with Synu. Part way through, Agnes delivered a warm tea to Kilena, and then left them to chat in solitude. “With this ability to speak to dragons, it is my duty to try reasoning with Ivna. I may be able to help her.”
Targath’s shoulders sank. “You really shouldn’t, but I know I can’t talk you out of it.”
“Why should I not?”
“Compared to Ivna, you’re an insect. If she doesn’t want to hear you out, she’ll just kill you. You’re noble and kind-hearted to want to help her. The reason more people don’t try to talk things out is because, most of the time, life is about kill or be killed,” he said with patient guidance. “In that situation, you kill to survive without giving them a chance to act first.”
“Ivna is a god dragon. She brings balance,” Kilena said with firm belief. “She should be given a chance to live, as much as anyone deserves that chance.”
“You mean, as much as Cadence?”
She flinched, eyes shifting away.
“I’m sorry,” he interjected, expressing regret for his quick tongue. “Ezekiel and I spent a while talking while you slept. The difference here is that Ivna doesn’t need to be alive in this realm to be a deity. That’s the point of being a god dragon. And you never know, maybe sending her to be with Synu will cleanse her. Maybe there’s a piece of her begging for death.”
Puzzled, Kilena asked, “You mean to say that her death may be a mercy?”
“I can’t know for sure,” he shrugged, “but it’s possible.”
A kindled fire renewed warm determination in her eyes. “The only way to find out is to speak with her.”
Targath chuckled derisively. “Ugh. You’re impossible. Fine, you’ll get your chance to talk to her, but I’ll be with you. If I sense danger, you listen to me and get out.”
“I understand, Targath,” Kilena responded with a firm nod to seal her promise. Softening her tone, she scanned the faint lines of discomfort etched into his face, then said, “I regret to inform you that we need to leave with haste. We are not welcome here.”
“I figured as much,” he muttered. “Those vampires are most likely still looking for you anyway, and the Crooked Crusaders might not be far behind them. Coming here was risky, but I’m glad you did. Agnes and Ezekiel are trustworthy people.”
“As are you, Targath,” she said with soft sincerity, a smile warming her expression until it reached her tender, sapphire eyes. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for saving my life. Again. One day, I will return the favor.”
Golden eyes locked on to the unreachable vision of selfless kindness sitting at an arm’s length from him. Seconds passed, but Targath felt eternity slip through his fingers. “You already have,” he responded at last, and then scooped up his discarded mug as he abruptly stood. His arm crossed his torso, hand flattening against his ribs as if to keep them inside. Amused, he took in the confusion plaguing Kilena’s furrowed brow before he said, “Let’s be off.”
Kilena Shrelack 