She returned swiftly with a flap of wings and transformed before landing, dropping to the ground with a small thud. Wordlessly, she batted Ainsworth’s hand away from the wound, and then she took out a small dagger and sliced her hand. Ainsworth had expected it, but it still shocked him when she gripped her palm tight, squeezing the running droplets of blood into his wound. It stung tremendously, but then finally—
He closed his eyes in relief as the cold burn of pain eased.
“Sorry, Ashe,” Ainsworth grumbled, sitting up. His ankle was a bloody mess, and he still had so far to walk on it! “If my blood wasn’t mostly human, my body could probably have fended off such a small bite by itself.”
She shook her head and crouched down next to him. “What a stupid thing to apologize for. No, it’s my fault. I got complacent. I should have spotted the nest, told you to look out for it. Anyway, can you stand?”
With one swift movement, she stood up and pulled him to his feet. Placing weight on his ravaged ankle sent a bolt of lightning shooting up his leg. “Somewhat,” he said through gritted teeth.
“That’s a no, then. Well, at least we’re only a day out from home. I’ll help you hobble back. Might add a day or two if you can’t keep up a decent pace.”
“Ah, that’s…a comfort,” he said, dread filling his heart at the prospect of slow days, bad weather, and pain. Speakingof—
“I want to do this spell before the rain starts again. Can I lean on your shoulder?”
She nodded, and he was grateful to stand without weight on his foot. “I’ll bandage the wound when you’re finished, and once my blood has done its work expelling whatever’s left in there. Then when we get home…well.” She looked up at him and gave a feral grin. “Honey will makesucha fuss over you. And if we do take a few extra days, oh how she’ll worry about you…”
“I think I preferred it when you didn’t really speak to me,” Ainsworth hissed. Her laughter confirmed that he had not concealed the hopeful gleam in his eyes at her words. He did not want her to worry, but…wouldHoney care about himso?
No time to waste, then! “All right, let me do this before I pass out.”
Ashe tightened her grip around his waist as they limped back to the ward he had drawn. She knelt down with him so he could place his palms at either side of the final ward, linking all five together. Her eyes widened as the red powder began to shimmer and swirl. Then suddenly a gush of air shot through the ground that almost sent them both flying back.
“You could have warned me!” Ashe cried over the gust, but Ainsworth barely heard her. He did not often employ magic such as this—it was, despite the drama, a simple working. But it required a degree of himself that his smaller spells didn’t, and he briefly sank, spirit and soul, into the stone beneath his hands. Suddenly it was as though he rode the wind, his heart soaring as he flew unencumbered through sky and cloud, over the mountain, his spirit roaring with delight. He had never felt such a rush!
He did not, however, feel the telltale spark of a targeted spell breaching the perimeter his wards had set.
When finally he opened his eyes, he felt as though an eternity had passed.
“I was worried you fell asleep,” Ashe said as he took a deep, rattling breath.
“I gave it as much time as I could,” he panted, “but I felt nothing. No magic blocking me, no sign of anything heading toward the Misnich Inn.”
“Fantastic. What a productive week we’ve had,” said Ashe, slapping his back.
He hung his head in exhaustion but still found enough energy to laugh quietly. “That’s the way it goes sometimes. When you research something, you often find dead ends. Time for a change of course, I think.”
“Well, first we need to get you home,” Ashe said, dragging him to his feet. “We wouldn’t want to keep Honey waiting, now, would we?”
“I can walk faster than this—let us pick up the pace, Ashe.”
“Liar. You wince with each and every step.”
He sighed and admitted defeat as Ashe glared at him. They should have reached the inn the previous evening, but it was well past noon on the next day. Still, much to Ainsworth’s relief, the map indicated that they had little ground left to travel and should reach the Misnich Inn before nightfall.
He was dreadfully impatient to get back; each step seemed to take an eternity. They walked on, with Ainsworth occasionally shuffling and hopping when the pain became too unbearable. Ashe had somewhat dispiritedly offered to wildeshift into a creature that could carry Ainsworth. The gesture touched him—it truly did—for he knew how much pride she had to swallow to even consider such an option. So it was for that he refused. And a little for his grandmother, who had also been of the opinion that the wildeshifters should not serve non-shifters in such a way.
He tried to stifle his disappointment that he had not gotten to the heart of the mystery of the flighty adventurers, but alas. He could only encourage more people to the inn and hope for the best. It was a little frustrating; accounts of adventures on the mountain really would elevate his research to grand heights and secure him the kind of promotion Lyria had in mind when pushing him toward the project. But he certainly still had something to offer, and in the meantime, his project and manuscript could be adapted. A history of the inn itself, although niche, would be a welcome addition to theheritage resources available on dwellings close to the republic border. Such musings were helpful in keeping his mind off the pain.
“Sorry, Ashe. I am holding us back something awful.”
“I am not in such a hurry for Honey to see that I let you get hurt,” Ashe said after a moment of silence.
Ainsworth laughed. “You did notletme get hurt.I—”
“I failed her.”
“Ashe,” he said, all trace of laughter gone from his voice. “You cannot possibly think that. I was incredibly lucky you were my companion, considering the healing properties you were able to offer me. Besides, it is just a small wound!”
