Only one candle had been placedin a holder on the desk in his new room, but Ainsworth could not face the awkwardness of seeking more. Instead he made do, preparing his pack and supplies for the morning by the light of the single, small flame. Alvea had visited him—his heart had leapt at the knock on his door—and informed Ainsworth of what supplies she could offer for the journey. He swiftly made space in his pack.
Finally, there was nothing to do but sleep. His stomach was in knots at the prospect of what he was going to do—foolish, foolish, foolish!Perhaps Honey had it right. But he knew he had to give this part of the project one last shot, and besides—the curse was a mystery he could not simply let go. He might find the answers he sought farther up the mountain, or perhaps be afflicted by it himself. And a small part of him knew he wanted to prove tohimselfhe could do this thing, see this project through to the end with his own hands and do something rather marvelous to achieveit.
Additionally, his stomach protested at how he had left things with Honey.
Unsaid and unpleasant.
He shook his head. His only hope was that, tomorrow, they would share kind words before his departure.
But her eyes came back to him again and again. Perhaps she had good reason for not wishing him to traverse the mountain.
It was a testament to how exhausted the last few days had made him that he fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow.
The dream Ainsworth eventually sank into was somehow a familiar one, despite never having had it before. The sun outside the inn was welcoming to his weary bones, and a woven picnic blanket had been set just a few feet away. He edged closer to find that the basket was stuffed with apples and auldfruit. A dusty bottle of wine—one of those Bren kept from prying eyes at the back of his shelves—lay snugly in the blanket’s folds. He knew instinctively that this was laid out for him, and that he’d be joined by someone.
Honey.
Yes, wouldn’t that be a nice thing to enjoy tomorrow?
A voice, gentle and welcoming, reverberated through his very soul. It did not seem unusual to him that he could not see the speaker; instead, they seemed to be within his head.
“Yes, it would be wonderful!” Ainsworth heard himself saying. “But…I think I have something to do tomorrow.” Though he could not, for the life of him, recall what it was. Had he agreed to mend something with Ruraidh? Were there documents in the attic to review?
You do not “have” to do anything. This is all that is required of you. Good food and good company.
Ainsworth smiled. “That does sound swell indeed.”
Doesn’tit?
His smile faltered at a niggling thought, pestering him just beyond his grasp. “But…I think there’s something…something else. Something that I…need?”
Well, what else do you need?
And suddenly Ainsworth knew.
He yelped, leaping to his feet, and looked to the sky, scanning for the blue dragon that had pursued him relentlessly in his dreams the night before he left the inn. He knew it from the inflection of that question.
“What do you want from me?” Ainsworth called to the skies. “Why have you sought me out again?”
The voice was silent, and so was the day around him. He turned and tried to enter the inn, but the door was locked, and pounding on it did nothing to rouse anyone inside.
There was a blast of air, then a heavy presence landed behind him. He froze, facing the inn, feeling the shade from the huge being fall over him, cutting him off him from the heat of the sun.
He shivered.
This…. was a dream, wasn’tit?
Ainsworth turned to face what he knew was there: the dragon he had not yet looked in the eye. And he did not get a chance to do so, for the moment his eyes landed on its great, barbed tail, reality shifted and lurched around him.
He cried out as he became suspended in midair, floating in a great expanse of space as though he were heading through a Transportation Circle. The dragon’s huge body swirled and seemed to swim through the air around Ainsworth—if it was indeed air—close enough that the force of it buffeted him slightly. He could never see more than one part of its enormous body at a time. Instead he saw glimpses: of a thigh, a belly, the ridged scales of its back, or the skin stretched taut over a wing.
“W-we’ve met before, dragon!” he managed to stammer after some time had passed. He dared not look down.
Ainsworth Gladsly, I know you are not a fool.The dragon was flying in circles around him, but Ainsworth could not rotate himself fast enough to catch a glimpse of its face. Beyond the dragon, light flashed in a riot of colors and scenes; he swore he caught a flash of Hinslyth at one point, as though his memories were playing out around him.
You are a wonderful person, you know.
He dared a laugh. “Oh, I doubt that.”
