Chapter 32 Kailin
KAILIN
"In the space between flames and shadows, dreams and wakefulness, the hidden path to your true self can be found."
—Shaman Saphir Fatewever
Iwatched the flames casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, sometimes looking like dragons soaring through the skies and sometimes like goats climbing a steep mountainside.
My imagination was probably influenced by the hallucinations I'd experienced on the trek, or perhaps I was still hallucinating, but at least these weren't as confusing as the strange symbols I'd seen in the storm.
I'd almost forgotten about them when the path had crumbled and I'd nearly lost my best friend.
I don't think I'd been that scared since the Shedun attack on my old village five years ago.
The difference was that this time, I hadn't found that quiet zone to envelop myself in, maybe because, unlike that time, there had been nothing I could do.
I'd thought that killing had been the worst experience of my life, but the storm taught me that helplessness was even worse.
I never wanted to feel like that again, but it was unavoidable that I would.
"I'll start," Morek said loudly enough to pull me out of my thoughts. "Once upon a time, there was a mountain goat who wanted to be a dragon."
"Was he a special kind of goat?" Shovia asked from where she sat between him and Codric. "Or just an ordinary one with delusions of grandeur?"
"The most ordinary goat you can imagine," Morek said. "But he had extraordinary dreams."
"Ah, dreams." Shovia lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I'll have interesting ones tonight."
I shifted closer to the fire, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. It was warmer in the cave than outside, and the fire was helping, but it was still drakking cold, and I debated between using my sleeping bag as a cushion for my bottom or as a blanket.
"Every day, he watched the dragons soar overhead," Morek continued. "And every night, he practiced jumping from rock to rock, imagining that he was flying."
"Poor deluded creature," Codric said. "Everyone knows goats can't fly."
"Ah, but this goat didn't know that." Morek grinned. "Or maybe he knew but didn't care. Everyone is entitled to their dreams, as absurd as they might be."
Was Morek poking fun at Alar and Codric and their dream of becoming dragon riders? Or was it self-deprecating humor, mocking his own dreams?
I cast a quick glance at Alar, who sat across the fire from me. The flames painted his features in warm gold, softening the sharp angles of his face. He looked different here—more relaxed, more approachable.
"So, what did the goat do?" someone asked.
"He climbed," Morek said. "Higher and higher each day, convinced that if he could just get high enough, he'd be able to fly like the dragons."
"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Shovia leaned forward, her face glowing in the firelight.
"That depends on your perspective." Morek waved his hand in an inviting arc. "Would anyone like to continue the tale?"
"The goat reached the highest peak," Alar said, surprising me. "But when he looked down, he realized how far he'd climbed and panicked."
Our eyes met across the fire, and something in his gaze made me think he wasn't just talking about the goat. He'd figured out my fear of heights.
"Poor thing," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Sometimes, we don't realize what we're getting into until it's too late."
"Indeed." Alar's eyes held my gaze for a moment longer before he looked away. "But sometimes what seems like a terrible mistake leads us to exactly where we need to be."
"The goat was stuck," Codric picked up the story. "Too scared to climb down, too scared to jump. But then he heard wingbeats approaching."
My mind flashed to the dark-eyed rider and his obsidian dragon from five years ago. The memory was so vivid that for a moment, I could smell the acrid scent of dragfire and feel the ground trembling beneath the massive taloned feet.
"A dragon landed beside him," Shovia continued. "But instead of eating him, which would have been the sensible thing to do, the dragon asked him why he had climbed so high."
"And the goat, being an honest creature," Morek jumped back in, "admitted his dream of flying like a dragon."
"The dragon must have found that amusing," I said.
Alar smiled. "Or admirable. It takes courage to pursue impossible dreams."
Was he thinking of his own impossible dream? The odds of an Elurian becoming a dragon rider were practically nonexistent.
"The dragon offered to teach the goat to fly," Morek said.
"That's not possible," one of the other pilgrims protested. "You can't teach a goat to fly because it doesn't have wings."
"Ah, but this is a story about the impossible becoming possible." Morek's eyes twinkled. "The dragon taught the goat to see the magnetic currents that flow through the skies, to feel the way they twist and turn through the mountains."
"Still doesn't give the goat wings," Shovia pointed out.
"No," Morek agreed. "But it taught him something more important—how to navigate his own path through the mountains. The goat learned to leap from peak to peak, using the currents to guide him. He never flew like a dragon, but he found his own way to soar."
A contemplative silence fell over our group, even though the story was too silly to serve as an allegory.
The fire crackled, sending sparks spiraling up into the dark ceiling of the cave, one of many such fires that illuminated and warmed the enormous interior.
Outside, though, the wind still howled, reminding us that we were trapped in here until the storm was over and that the wait for our first meal after the fast was getting longer.
"That's a pretty good story," Codric said. "But I have to admit that I was expecting a different ending. Getting eaten by the dragon was a more likely outcome for our motivated goat, but since speaking of goats getting eaten makes me hungry, let's talk about something else."
Laughter rippled through our group, and even Alar seemed amused.
"Not every story has to end in tragedy," Morek said. "It's good to have dreams, even if they are impossible."
"Very profound," Shovia teased. "Have you been talking philosophy with Kailin's grandmother?"
I snorted. "Gran is much too pragmatic to give such a story a good ending, but if she were telling a fairy tale, she would have given it a medicinal twist. Something about the goat finding a magical plant and growing wings."
As more laughter followed, Alar pulled out his canteen, the one with Lysara's medicine, and took a sip.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
He met my gaze across the flames, and this time his smile reached as far as those striking blue eyes. "Much better. The altitude doesn't feel as crushing anymore."
"That's good." I looked away quickly, unsettled by how that smile made me feel. "The air is probably denser in here than outside, but on the other hand, all the smoke is not good for us either."
"Or maybe I'm finally adapting." He set his flask aside. "Though I suspect that it helps being out of the storm, having a roof over my head and a fire to warm my bones."
"You looked pretty frozen coming back from that dip in the water," I said. "What were you thinking?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He cast a baleful glance at Morek. "My competitive nature will one day be the death of me. Though watching Codric turn blue was almost worth it."
"I can hear you," Codric grumbled. "And I wasn't blue. If I looked anything like you, it was more of a purplish shade."
As the banter continued around the fire, I found it challenging to focus on the conversation.
Every time Alar spoke or laughed, and I had an excuse to look at him, my heart beat faster in my chest. The firelight softened his aristocratic features, and when he smiled, which he was doing more often than I'd ever seen him do before, little crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.
If I didn't stop stealing glances at him, he would notice and think that I was smitten with him. Not that he would be wrong because I was, but he was leaving after the pilgrimage, and I needed to protect myself from heartache.
Suddenly, the cavern felt too warm, too crowded, and I needed air, space, and some distance from this growing unwelcome attraction.
"I'm going to get more water." I rose to my feet and grabbed my canteens. "Does anyone else need a refill?"
Several canteens were held out, and as I gathered them, Alar stood up. "You can't carry all of those by yourself. I'll help you."
"No!" The word came out too quickly, too forcefully. I modulated my tone. "No, thank you. Stay, enjoy the warmth. I can manage by myself."
I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, and it took all my willpower not to look back.
As I made my way toward the cave's water source, the shadows between the fires grew deeper, and my heart slowed down to a normal pace. Behind me, I could still hear Shovia's laughter, and I wondered whether they'd started another nonsense story.