Chapter 15 #2
“Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want you to think…
Anyway,” Ruraidh continued. “We ended up quite close to Mount Vengeance. I was hopeful that we wouldn’t come across anyone—adventurers from the Saltquart side were scarce; it was something my Dwelling was concerned about.
We waited around two weeks, but we finally came across a party from the republic who seemed to be heading to Mount Vengeance.
I…panicked. And ran. But still, members of my Dwelling attacked the traveling party, meaning they saw me as one of their attackers, too.
They were fearsome—more than we were prepared for—and we all ended up fleeing.
The Dwelling chieftain blamed me for the losses we incurred because, if I had helped, we might have…
won.” His throat bobbed, and the quill in his hand went slack.
“Ruraidh, you do not have to—”
“No, it’s fine. I…should talk about it. They— The people in my Dwelling were going to kill me. I had made one too many mistakes. I could see it in their eyes. But then…the ground began to shake.”
Ainsworth kept silent, transfixed by this turn of the tale.
“And then the dragon came. He—or she, I don’t know—was hungry, perhaps? Or maybe saw us as a threat to its hoard. Maybe we got too close. It was…huge. Huge and blue.”
“Huge” and “blue.” Well, Ruraidh would not be writing books on dragons anytime soon, it seemed, but Ainsworth would badger him for better descriptions later. This was a breakthrough for his work—and, more important, for his friend.
“The dragon…didn’t seem to care about me.
I was a coward; I didn’t even try to run like the rest of my Dwelling.
Yet even after it returned to my pitiful hiding spot after chasing them away, it did not bother me.
I think it…knew, somehow, that I did not mean it or anyone harm.
It did not try and speak to me or anything, though.
” He frowned. “I must have passed out in fear, because I had a dream. A dream in which I soared through the sky, following a specific route across Mount Vengeance until I reached a white house. When I woke, I realized I had no better plan than to follow the dream route. I set off, and the dream proved to be true. I found myself here—with my wounds festering and with a fever that had me nearly out of my mind. Honey took care of me—she had recently inherited the inn, I think. She saved my life. When I recovered fully, I…decided to stay. I liked it here.”
“Oh, Ruraidh, I’m so sorry,” said Ainsworth, reaching out to take his friend’s hand.
He pushed away the excitement of this breakthrough—confirmation that the dragon did exist, that Ruraidh had witnessed some adventurers in the mountains, suggesting that, yes, of course some parties made it there.
There was hope for adventuring accounts in his book yet.
And to talk with someone with firsthand dragon experience?
He would, after all, have something original to contribute to draconic scholarship, too!
But it was surprisingly easy to subdue those feelings—to push them aside from what was the priority in that moment. His friend, trusting him with a difficult experience, reliving it, feeling it. Ruraidh’s story was an important one to tell, but it was more important that Ainsworth listen.
“Does Ashe know about this?” Ainsworth asked.
Ruraidh sniffed, his eyes glassy. “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking.
I also think it’s one of the reasons she stands guard—in case anyone comes for me.
But…it’s been so long now!” he exclaimed, although he looked nervously across his shoulder as if those pursuing him would manifest there and then.
“I do believe they think I have perished, since I did not even run from the dragon.”
“I am so sorry that happened to you, my friend,” Ainsworth said softly, squeezing Ruraidh’s hand. “But I am glad you are here. And safe. And…happy?”
Ruraidh grinned. “Oh yes!”
Before Ainsworth could reply, Honey walked into the room with her arms around a bundle of the journals Ainsworth had found.
“All right, I’ve finally had a skim through these.
What a life! I have more in the back to go through, but I’ve taken out some…
personal pages. You can have what’s left.
She doesn’t tend to talk about the curse, though, mind.
But there’s plenty of thoughts about guests and the mountain range.
” She dumped the books on the table between them, and Ruraidh yelped as he quickly moved some posters out of her path.
“I don’t really think it’ll be any use, Ainsworth. I mean—”
“No, this is fantastic, Honey! I want to write about the Misnich Inn, too, you know. Its founding, some of the challenges faced setting it up, and bits about the staff.”
“Very well, then,” said Honey. “Do you need a hand with anything?”
Ainsworth picked up one of the journals and considered its old, beaten cover. “Well, considering you’ve done so much for me today, I had thought to ask the same of you. Would you like some assistance with anything later?”
“Oh! Well, I was planning on doing a bit of foraging later, if you…wanted to join me?” Honey took a seat next to Ruraidh, and although she made to clear away some of their spilled ink with a cloth she carried, Ainsworth could sense her watching him from the corner of her eye.
He finished the current poster he was working on with a flourish. “Very much so!”
Although things were proceeding at a much slower pace than he expected, it felt like the project was actually moving.
It felt like things were finally falling into place.