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“I’ve got you to rescue me. How’s the headache?”
“Yes,” Tir said, ignoring the question, “and what happens when I’m not—oh, never mind. North. Walk, Ollie. Watch out for rocks.”
“Rocks?” The hills hulked tall and fairly stoic.
“Rocks,” Tir reiterated, and kicked another one his way, rounder and irregular grey-black.
“Oh,” Ollie said, “rocks,” and kicked it back, and they had a half-game of foot-ball for a while, not keeping score, letting kicks and misses drain away any lingering irritation. Hills rose up more steeply and became mountains; crags and stoneflowers loomed.
They slipped between earth-folds together, small against the reaching spires of the Northern lands. The air crackled and bit in Oliver’s lungs. Tir intermittently put a hand up to rub his left temple, either unthinking or forgetting to hide it. Ollie watched worriedly. Tir said everything was fine, or would be shortly, and turned them west, toward the coast, down a defile.
The morning poured itself into midday in a waterfall of blue and gold, framed by rock.
The final obstacle steadfastly refused to appear. Oliver had nearly forgotten to expect it. They were close, so close; his spirits rose with the sun. He could finish this Quest. He could go back to his life. It could be over and he could go home, he and Tir could—
Except it wouldn’t be over. He’d see whatever he saw in the Seeing Pool. Some destined True Love to save and fall madly in love with. Head over heels. Romance. Happy endings. And he wouldn’t not try to save someone who needed him. Of course he wouldn’t abandon anyone, not when he could help.
If Tir would come with him on that rescue, would stay with him, at least—
The object of his crowded thoughts stopped walking. “Oliver?”
“What? Um. Yes. Sorry.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I was just…thinking. You know.”
“Yes.” Tir sighed. “Everything will change for you, won’t it…”
“For us,” Ollie said, “you’ll be with me, come on, you’re my companion, aren’t you?”
Tir let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Of course. And speaking of…it’s that last test. Up ahead. I haven’t looked yet, but I can feel it. In my head.”
“Oh.”
“Shall we?”
“Guess we should…”
They peeked around the rock-fall corner at the last test.
The last test proved to be a dragon.
Oliver, flattened against the canyon wall, hissed, “Did you expect this?”
“No!” Tir adventured another glimpse around rock. “That’s new. Not in any of my research. That is, they exist, but they’ve never turned up for your family’s tradition before!”
“I thought they were extinct!”
“Not at all. They don’t come across the border, though. They live on magic. Oh—of course, this is your Seeing Pool, it’s entirely magic…I wonder if it drinks from the Pool itself, or—”
“You can practice comparative magical zoology later!” He risked one more peek himself. The Pool was indeed visible, beyond the not insignificant obstacle of dragon.
It formed a natural spring, welling up into a bowl shaped of smoky transparent stone, carved over eons by the drip of Fairyland-sourced water. It shimmered under the slate-and-cloud sky at the end of the skinny rock-walled trail. It lay only a few steps distant, but: dragon.
Not a cuddly faithful tamable beast, as in some children’s puppet shows. Not huge, about the size of a big cart-horse, but absolutely not small as a house-pet lizard. Ugly. Black-scaled, spiky, fanged. Ochre glow down near its belly. Built to be a predator and bring death. It lashed its tail like a vicious cat, waiting. It knew they’d come.
Tir gave him a faintly offended scowl. “If I had a profession I’d be a writer of magical romance, and I like doing the research—”
