21. Shouldn’t have asked
21
Shouldn’t have asked
Talon
W e set up camp in a room we found. A small stream had found its way inside, trickling down the walls and collecting into a number of small pools on the far side. Nidori tested it and said it was good to drink, so we settled in.
She sidled up to me after a few minutes. “So, are we starting a fire tonight?”
I shook my head. “It’s too enclosed here. We’d choke on the smoke.”
“Ugh,” she said, face falling. “This cave stinks. There’s no plants and no fires?”
“Here.” I held up my palm and summoned a flame. It hovered above my hand, sending dancing shadows throughout the dim room.
Nidori’s face split into a wide smile. She clambered onto my arm. “Can I touch it?” she whispered.
“Give me a sec,” I said, cooling the flame. It settled into a slower liquid blue. It was mostly just light in this form .
Nidori stretched out her hand, dipping it into the fire. “It tickles,” she said, turning her hand over. “Wow. I can’t believe you can make fire whenever you want. Wait.” She looked up at me. “How big of a fire can you make? Could you make one bigger than a horse?”
“I don’t really need to make ones that big. But, yes, the biggest one I made was bigger than a horse.”
“Wow, really? Tell me all about it! Were you fighting a big monster?”
I laughed. “Nothing nearly so exciting. I was a dumb teenager. I hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet, so people didn’t find me scary. We were visiting the coast, and I met some of the local kids. I was trying to impress one.”
I felt a pang as I relived the memory. He had been taller, with dark hair and freckles. It was the last time I remembered being shorter than most people.
“So, you made a really big fireball?” asked Nidori, wrinkling her nose.
“The biggest one I could. It was about the size of a carriage. And I launched it right into the sea.”
I could remember the terror that coursed through me as I realised I’d probably made it too big. The heat that blistered around me, starting to turn the sand into glass. I’d hurled it as far as I could and made a geyser of steam. And we’d all run, hearts pounding and bursting with nervous laughter.
“I’m still trying to understand why you’d make a fireball to impress someone you’d just met,” said Nidori.
Kaine plopped down next to us. “He was trying to get laid, darling.”
“Laid?” asked Nidori.
“In bed with someone. To have sex. ”
“Really?” Nidori turned back to me. “With a fireball ? Did it get him to lay you?”
“Kind of,” I said sheepishly. “He was impressed. We, um, kissed a bit. But then his dad found us.”
It had been my first and last kiss for a long time. I’d grown two feet taller that summer and two feet wider—and started to see the blood drain from people’s faces when they looked at me.
“You have to show me that one day, Talon,” Nidori said. “I’ll even give you a kiss for it.”
“Sorry, little bean. It’s really not safe. I was lucky no one got hurt that time.”
She pouted and climbed off my arm, walking away to her little pack. I released the flame, letting it die out.
She pulled a wooden instrument from her pack; it looked like an egg, with holes and pipes sticking out.
She started playing a tune, the peaceful melody reverberating through the cold dankness of the cavern and making it feel a little cozier.
“I think it’s your turn,” I said to Kaine after we’d unpacked.
“My turn for what?”
“To tell us a story.”
He snorted. “Neither of you wants to hear any of my stories. They’re boring and horribly depressing.”
“You must have some from before,” I said.
“Before,” he mused, a sad smile on his face. “That’s a long time ago. I don’t have anything from before. Just memories of memories.”
“You have to have at least one story, Kaine,” said Nidori, pausing her tune to look at him. “Pretty please, can you tell us one?”
“How about a bit of advice, instead?” he said lightly. “Don’t trust anyone who doesn’t wear shoes. ”
“What are we supposed to do with that?” I asked.
He shrugged, standing and stretching. “Whatever you want, darling.”
With that, he vanished, conveniently taking his leave of the conversation.