Chapter 32
They only managed to get a few hours’ sleep, but waking up with Honey nestled against him made Ainsworth feel as though he could run up Mount Vengeance with ease and be back before lunch.
They exchanged sheepish smiles as they rose to get ready for the day, despite nothing…
untoward occurring the previous night. It was merely that it did not seem like the kind of night one spent alone, after all that had occurred between them. So they had not.
The day began as predicted. Freckle boomed down the stairs at breakfast and clapped Ainsworth on the back as he sat sipping tea, sending it spilling across the table. “Sorry, pal. Won’t be leaving today after all!”
Soon Freckle was followed by a stoic Ashe.
“I’ve decided I’m not stupid enough to take on the entire mountain with someone as inexperienced as you,” she said casually as she passed Ainsworth’s table to resume her post outside before he could reply.
Ruraidh was a lot more difficult to face.
Blushing furiously, close to tears, he stated that actually he did not wish to go back to territory so close to his home, where he might be seen by his Dwelling.
“Of course, Ruraidh. Please stop apologizing,” Ainsworth said, giving his friend’s hand a squeeze. He felt guilty that Ruraidh had suffered so under Honey’s magic—and he caught Honey giving him a regretful glance as Ruraidh uttered yet more apologies.
After breakfast, Bren beckoned Ainsworth out into the garden. It was a glorious day, with only the slightest sting of chill in the air—for now. He sat down at the outdoor table, with Spin across from him, shelling a basket of peas she had just harvested.
“We heard you’ll still be heading out to the mountain today,” said Bren.
“That’s right.”
He stroked his beard as he spoke. “Honey told you, then. I just wanted a chance to explain why I may have been…off with you. With everyone. I knew how important all this was to her,” he said, gesturing to the inn.
“The inn was quiet for a time, and I was hopeful she could rest alongside us. Her values are what saved us all, in the end. All of us who call the inn home, anyway. And I feared you were undoing that, bringing so many folk here.”
“Well, I disagree,” Spin chimed in. “I like having the extra company.”
Bren rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, out here in the garden where no one is pestering you for refills. But…I think Honey is happy with the changes, too. And she’s happy with you. That’s all that matters to me.” Bren held out his hand—a peace offering?
Ainsworth shook it and enjoyed an amicable breakfast with the pair of them.
By midmorning, Honey had finally seen the rest of the guests off. “We probably should have left at dawn. I’m sorry,” she said.
“No problem,” said Ainsworth. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
She considered him. He carried just one single pack, his bow and arrows abandoned, and only a loose shirt and trousers. “Aren’t you…a little unprepared? We will be gone for weeks if you wish to see—”
“Oh, you’re right,” he said, and he knelt under the table to retrieve a picnic basket Alvea had helped him put together. “Lunch. I almost forgot it.”
She hesitated. “Ainsworth…”
“This was all we needed the last time we hiked to the standing stones, was it not?”
Her eyes were glassy and she gave a tight-lipped nod. “Yes. Thank you.”
“And presumably, if any other creatures give us hassle, you can…take care of them?”
Honey looked toward the door. “Yes, I won’t have to hide my strength from you now, and Ashe…Well, she certainly won’t be heading anywhere near the mountain today.”
Ainsworth had decided during their talk that he would not set out to do what he initially planned—partly because there was little point, now that the final mystery was unlocked, and partly because he no longer knew what he was going to do with the book, or with his project as a whole.
He had spent the morning going over and over Honey’s words in his mind—confidences he had promised not to divulge.
He still wanted to share the Misnich Inn’s story with the world, but how could he when so much was tied up with Honey’s personal story, which he could not reveal?
Yet if he did not submit the book to Skarrow, what would this mean about his future?
He had taken on the Misnich Inn project because Lyria had promised it would secure his reputation as an esteemed scholar of heritage and history.
And he truly loved research and scholarship.
It was in his blood, his bones, the way that the forest had been in his father’s.
Yet if he failed at this—a project that had caught the imagination of most of the Skarrow Library—could he even call himself a scholar still?
Or would be he removed from their ranks forever?
Ainsworth was not quite sure what to make of it all yet. But he hoped a brisk, short(ish) walk would clear his mind. At the very least, there was a satisfaction and sense of accomplishment that so many of his questions (and more) about the mountain, about its dragon, had been answered.
“Ready,” Honey said finally, her own pack slung over her shoulder. “I’ll take the basket. You are far too clumsy up there.”
For the first hour or so of their walk, the gentle ascent was invigorating.
Ainsworth felt the sun against his skin, the chill of the air skimming the hairs on the back of his arms and nestling deep into his lungs.
He found his stride quickly—“You really have changed these past few weeks!” Honey huffed alongside him—and took pleasure in the small joys of the landscape.
“Despite the dangers this terrain possesses, you do love this mountain,” said Ainsworth when they paused for water. “It is your home, and you yourself have tried to show me the beauty of it.”
“Well, of course.”
“The path is long and difficult, but if someone wishes to try and walk it, should not we let them?”
“Ainsworth,” she objected. “They don’t need to conquer the mountain, conquer dragons, to be good people. To be heroes—”
“I know that,” Ainsworth replied. “Well, I know that now. But if people do insist on trying to take that path, shouldn’t we support them?
Prepare them for the journey as best we can, with knowledge and supplies and encouragement?
Let them know it’s all right to turn back if they need to, or if they can’t quite make it?
Let them experience the wonders of the climb, to look back and see the view, see how far they reach?
As someone once told me, you do not need to reach the summit to have climbed a mountain. ”
Honey pursed her lips. “Yes, well. I suppose that person was very clever.”
He laughed. “Not as clever as me, though.”
They continued on their way, Honey quiet and contemplative, which made Ainsworth feel, at times, that he had only the wind for company. He relished the feel of it through his hair, restorative after a night of little sleep.
When they reached the small loch they usually stopped at for a break, Ainsworth’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered the words from the pages Honey had sent him: His great-grandfather’s simple joy in the rocks. How he had filled pages with joyful sketches of them.
“I wonder what happened to my great-grandfather, in the end?” Ainsworth said.
“I wish I knew,” Honey said, taking a deep breath.
“You know, it took me a while after you arrived to remember just who he was, and then when I found that diary entry…it clicked. He was such a strange fellow, brimming with excitement and tales of his travels. He told me that he wanted to at least take a peek at the republic, since he was so close. There are other ways across other than summitting Mount Vengeance, and I think he was planning to head north, to find the trading route. He may have died on the way, or maybe he just liked the republic so much that he stayed. I guess there is no way of knowing.”
Ainsworth let out a sigh. He had gotten more answers than he’d expected from Honey, so he supposed this one mystery would have to remain.
A part of him liked to think that his great-grandfather had found what he wanted on the republic side, but he supposed Honey’s first explanation was the more likely.
He could try to follow Artan’s trail, or perhaps return to his family home, meet the friend of his parents who now resided there, and search the house for more clues as to who Artan was, where he may have ended up.
It was certainly something he could consider in the future, and his heart lifted at the prospect.
As they continued their climb, Honey then spoke of the regret she felt at lying to the staff at the inn, and for the insights her ability allowed into people’s way of thinking.
She had accurately read Ainsworth’s desire to see his project through and his desperate need to prove to everyone—including himself—that he could do something like conquer the mountain in the name of his research.
Ashe, she admitted, had asked to accompany Ainsworth to prove to Honey that she could protect him, for Honey’s sake and approval.
“She truly need not prove anything to me, I love her so. But…this is the way the world makes so many of us think, Ainsworth. I just wish to…stop it, somewhat.”
Ruraidh had also wished for approval and esteem—but from Ainsworth. “I worry that my interference has actually done more harm than good there, since he felt like he let you down this morning. It was never my intention to hurt my friends. I will—I will make amends,” she said.
Ainsworth felt sick at the thought and vowed to clearly communicate upon his return how much he admired Ruraidh and treasured his friendship.
“Well then. This is as good a spot as any for the picnic you compelled me to bring with that dream of yours,” Ainsworth said later as they settled down for lunch. Honey gave a small smile, likely reminded of her scheme. “Will you tell them, then, once we return?”
Honey frowned. “Tell them what? That I am a dragon?”