“Augh!” I throw open the door much too hard and have to fall forward and grab the handle to stop it slamming into the wall. A moment of petulance that makes me stop in the door frame and take a deep breath. “What’s her problem? After I told them everything yesterday, I figured she'd have been at least a little understanding. Obviously, I didn’t mean Olly should feel bad about what happened! Why would I want that? It’s ridiculous!” I fail miserably at reining in my emotions, still absolutely full to the brim of adrenaline—excess ignia following a fight is common since it’s usually generated in the process, but that was something else.

  “I’ve never fought anyone before. Monsters, sure! I’ve hunted plenty! But a friend? Did you think that maybe that’s why I was so upset, Lilly?” I feel it building up to another full head of steam, so I stop pacing—whenever I’d even started doing that, I don’t know. With a series of deep breaths, I force excess Ignia out of my body. It carries with it puffs of smoke and motes of ash that I am mindful to stamp out when they land and groan, “That’s not something I’ve ever thought about before. Did ‘Ma and ‘Pa ever burn things accidentally?” I wrack my brain, welcoming the distraction.

  “No, I don’t think so. They had better self-control. Pa' used to say it was important for us to let loose every now and again, though… Said it’s where most of the myths surrounding destructive serpents came from. Old, powerful, serpents who lose control of themselves because they haven’t rid themselves of excess essence from their Gate.” The memory brings a smile as I wonder what ‘pa might have taken out his excess ignia on. His breath was something out of legend, I can’t imagine him using it casually.

  The smile turns south when I realize that it’s not a question I’ll ever get an answer to. But…that’s fine. I can learn for myself, it’s well within my abilities. And I’ll need to if I want to avenge them.

  I’ve never fought someone before. And fighting Olly was basically fighting that thing in my dream, right? He certainly could have done what the monster did, and even probably would have if the situation had gone differently.

  I turn that idea around in my head, chewing on it and mulling it over. “I did win, right? And I did it without seriously hurting Olly. I beat something like what was in my nightmare. Sure, it was Olly, but he wasn’t him at the time, so by all counts I was fighting one of those things.” The thought buoys me a fair bit. I rationally understand there’s a significant difference between Olly and the thing that overpowered my parents, but it’s a start. Like Lilly said, we’re just starting out. I try to take the victory in stride and feel a warmth in my breast growing at the thought.

  “I won.” I pause, trying to calm myself, but I don’t even want to resist it. I want to embrace it. I’ve earned it. My training paid off! I feel Ignia building and building as I see steam starting to pour off me in the chill air again. I want to jump. I want to fly. I need to do something to get rid of all this excess energy before I ignite. I smile at the thought, “What a problem to have after all these years. Ignia stirring to my emotions like it should have always been.”

  I turn and stride out of the front of the cabin, looking over at Lilly and Olly. She changed her size at some point and is sitting with Olly’s head in her lap, idly stroking his hair. I don’t stare, though. My frustration with her is gone. She was just worried about him, and that’s fine. But the sight sticks in my mind as I walk into the forest. She had the most awkward, goofy, smile while sitting there with him and I shouldn’t interrupt that. “You foolish fool, Lilly. The princess is supposed to fall for the hero after he defeats the dragon. He hasn’t even won yet. You’re messing up the pacing of the plot. And stealing my own chance from me. Pretty rude” I muse mockingly as I make it to the clearing after a fifteen-minute walk. “All of that teasing for all these years and she can’t even help herself.”

  With a dopey smile and bared teeth, I look around at the clearing for something ready to receive very unfair and unkind punishment, and decide a dying ironbark tree is a good victim. Its leaves have only just begun to start falling, leaving the branches still quite obscured. Wanting to ensure nothing will get hurt by what I’m about to do, I stride up and kick the tree hard, thanking my steel-shod boots for being themselves in the usual way.

  It shakes, and a cascade of metallic leaves begins to fall around me… but no critters swarm out. To be sure, I haul back and really put in effort for the kick, splintering some weaker wood with the effort, and hear a curse in common as a stark white creature falls out of the tree and into my arms. It looks up at me as I look down at it, both looking dumbly at one another.

  It’s an entirely stark white stoat. But it has golden yellow eyes and a sigil glowing on its flank. The body is far too large for any stoat I’ve ever seen, being the size of maybe a small deer, but is otherwise unmistakably a stoat. It's also wearing a pointed brown ranger cap with a gold feather that remained entirely unmarred after the fall, and an appropriately sized backpack.

  The staring contest goes on for a while. We both struggle to think of what to do next, but the big stoat speaks first, though, which startles me out of the daze. “So. What now? Are we fighting? I am fine with that. Hat said to ask first if I wasn’t sure.” its voice comes across distinctly masculine, and a few octaves lower than I would have…imagined a stoat sounding like. Do I even have a preconceived idea for how a stoat should sound speaking the common tongue?

  “Uh. No? I don’t want to fight you if you don’t want to fight me.” I respond slowly.

  “I do want to fight you. You ended my nap. But if you do not, we will not.” It states matter-of-factly. “You owe me.” Its speech is very accurate, which leads me to believe it’s fae.

  “What are you thinking? Of course, it’s Fae. It’s a talking weasel, Ayre! It's wearing a hat!” I focus, knowing the importance of words in such a situation. “If there is a reasonable price that is within my power to pay without undue hardship, I am willing to parley.”

  It huffs at me. “Why do you talk like Fae? You are not Fae. Too many words. I want food and scratches.” Not one for wordplay, I guess.

  “I can probably do both if you would like? I need to do something first, but we can go back to my cabin afterwards, and I can give you food and…scratches.” I feel ridiculous. Even after a life near the fae and being effectively under their care, these things have never stopped being ridiculous. It’s always something.

  “Will it be long? Wait.” It pauses and immediately thrashes to get out of my arms, landing flat after some aerial wiggles. It proceeds to wander around me, looking at me from every angle. I feel more scrutinized than I have ever been in my life. I can’t even bring myself to feel defensive or anything. The situation is too bizarre for it. “You are the weird animal. You gave me dry meat.”

  “Weird…animal? I guess I can see where you’re coming from. When did I give you dry meat? I’m pretty sure I’d remember a dog sized stoat in a hat.” Speaking the words aloud makes the situation feel even more surreal.

  “Cold winter. Bad winter. I was hungry. You gave me dry meat. It was…okay.” I get the distinct impression it had been about to say something a bit worse than okay, but thought better of it.

  I wrack my brain. I’d interacted with the animals of these woods a lot over the years and fed many of them. “I don’t remember, I’m sorry. But I do have more dried meat and other things that you might like? Fresh elk?”

  “Could not talk then. Was also smaller. Elk is good. Do the thing. Then we leave.” It declares with finality and prowls away to a nearby stump and curls up on it, seemingly entirely disinterested in me. I feel a little offended that it clearly finds me so boring, and feel the implied challenge gets my draconic blood up a little bit.

  I shake my head and draw in a deep breath, calling the ambient Ignia from the area and bolstering it with my own borrowed power, holding for a few seconds to savor the warmth that I’ve long sought. With a smile, my lips split open and I Breathe. A torrent of Ignia erupts from my throat and mouth and passes into and around the tree. A cone of warm red flame. Weak by most draconic standards, but more than enough to catch a dying tree alight…and its nearby neighbors…and a couple of their neighbors. I see birds erupt from those trees as the branches begin to be consumed by the living flame.

  I did not account for Mineralis's elemental weakness to fire.

  I stagger backwards as I snap my mouth shut and feel freezing. I hadn’t really considered that as being the outcome of getting rid of all of my excess Ignia, but definitely should have. I take a few deep breaths, drawing in a little more to even things back out again and to try to return to my normal body temperature as the crackling trees burn before me. Seeing the fire gives me a rush of validation I’ve been seeking for years that I revel in for a few moments before I hear the stoat behind me, making me jump.

  “Are you done? Is there more to this?” It balances on its back legs, looking at me with apparent boredom. It stands about as tall as my thigh, twisted into a furry “S” shape. “Do you need the fire essence, or can I take it?”

  “Uh…yeah. Feel free?”

  “Good. Backpack, absorb fire.” The creature braces itself on all fours as it speaks, and I watch as its backpack opens of its own volition and I feel an intense negative pressure from within. It takes a few seconds, but the Ignia in the area is inexorably drawn to the backpack and pulled inside in waves — even putting out most of the fire in the nearby trees. “Done. Can we go?”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  “We can go.” I feel thoroughly chastised by this creature, as though I’d been doing something childish or wrong, despite it giving no real indication of feeling any particular way about it. Dealing with fae was always so confusing and exhausting. “Let’s go. I can…give you scratches on the way? If you'd like?” In answer, it springs into the air at me, twisting and writhing to land in my arms how I’d been carrying it before.

  “Acceptable.” It declares and settles its head onto its tail and closes its eyes.

  Somewhat absently, I start to walk and bring my hand up to its head. Not exactly sure where I should put it. “Would a head pat be demeaning?”

  As if reading my mind, one of its eyes open and it states one word. “Ears.” and closes its eye again. I obediently start to scratch around its ears, and it bunts its head into my hand and begins…purring. I had no idea that stoats purr. Do stoats even purr?

  But, if nothing else, it seems pleased with the situation, which isn’t unpleasant for me either, really. If anything, it seems like it’s purring louder after my thought about it.

  I cast a final look back at the trees that have burned down to ash in the intervening couple of minutes. The Breath burns aggressively and finds the most efficient path to burning the most with the least, and that makes it an excellent weapon according to what I’ve read. Aside the obvious benefit of setting someone on fire, it is a vital part of my being, so it obeys my will better than most mortal sorcerers could hope to match. It means my ability to wield Ignia is a bit more narrow than a mortal who performs similar magic, but mine will always be more potent because of my extreme affinity, incredibly high Ignia tolerance, and access to the gate and all that entails. And the greater control is, usually, great for limiting undesired collateral damage, but I had failed to direct it clearly enough either in mind or action. I make a note to practice more to manifest cones of varying wideness and concentration.

  After I deal with this…weasel situation.

  —

  The stoat is silent—aside from the constant rumbling—for the entire walk, seemingly just basking in the attention. I suppose it must be because something without hands would struggle to scratch itself like this in any way. It was the second thing on its mind for payment, so it must be important to it. As we approach the clearing before the cave, I think to ask something. “What’s your name anyways?”

  “Is this a name trick? Don’t lie. I will know.” I’m taken aback by the response so much that I stop scratching its head. “Ears.”

  I return to my apparently assigned duties. “No tricks, I’m not a fae, remember? I just would like to know what to call you.”

  “You too? The fae asked too. Male.” It… He states with a tired air.

  I almost stop scratching again, “Not what I meant. My name is Ayre. Do you have something that others call you?” Fae are exhausting.

  “Sir Henry Slinks.” I choke a little, having been expecting the letter salad names of the fae and not at all expecting something so…simple?

  “Sir… Henry Slinks. Is it all three? Or do I call you Henry?”

  “My name is Sir Henry Slinks.”

  I nod slowly. “Sir Henry Slinks it is. It's nice to meet you.”

  He closes his eyes and returns to basking in the scratches, seemingly ignoring the response. I sigh as I pass into the clearing, growing a little frustrated with this creature’s attitude. To my surprise I see Olly lifting himself off the ground, holding his head and Lilly standing five or so feet away with her back to him, arms pinned at her front, looking terrifically embarrassed. It’s a sight I will cherish.

  “Nice to see you’re up and about, Olly. Thanks for taking care of him, Lilly.” She looks up at me with a face so red she might as well have been the fire dragon in the clearing. She narrows her eyes at me before consciously realizing that I’ve arrived with cargo and, as is her way, immediately forgets whatever had her so embarrassed and comes bouncing my way. Taking a few steps, fluttering her now-less-effective wings to glide a little, and repeating until she arrives.

  “He has a hat!” She points out helpfully with a radiant smile. The stoat opens one eye and I feel its muscles tense when it sees her. I have a momentary premonition of something bad being about to happen, so I redouble my scratching with a little extra force to keep him in my arms in a way that I hope won’t feel threatening. “Oh! And a backpack!”

  “Lilidh,” he hisses with clear anger and does immediately try to escape my arms as expected, but with my pinning hold on him, he can’t really get any purchase. I try a different tactic, scratching under his chin. It more or less immediately calms him down. “Still mad. Not worth ending scratches, though.” He informs the both of us. I feel relieved, and Lilly looks confused for a moment before smiling, apparently missing the explicit threat he made.

  “He talks?! Ayre where did you find a talking weasel?” She pauses for a moment. “I’m being rude, talking about you like you’re not right the-”

  “Are you the princess?” He opens one eye again at her. “No. Can’t be. Too big. Never mind.” He pauses and turns his head more and looks at her like a snake sizing up prey. “Not your normal size. You are the princess.” This time a statement. “I’m…upset with you.” he searches for the word for a moment—again seeming like he’s going to say something harsher but decides against it.

  Lilly looks like someone just kicked her in the shin. Absolutely wounded by a stranger telling her they don’t like her. I try to probe, “Why are you upset with her, Sir Henry Slinks?” And there’s the turnaround. Lilly lights up—she literally starts glowing—with recognition.

  “Sir Henry Slinks! Ayre this is my friend, the one who I dueled with all the time, and then I broke his tooth and healed him…and…” She trails off as Olly wanders up, keeping his left side closer to the conversation as normal, but otherwise keeping quiet. “Why…why can you talk? Where did you get a hat? And a backpack?”

  “Tree-fae said you did it. I am upset because of that. I got a hat and a backpack from Weaver.” Simple, informative. I’m beginning to put together some pieces.

  “You said you bound the weasel to your essence to help him recover, right, Lil? I take it that having him gain sentience wasn’t your intent.” Lilly shakes her head.

  “If I had known he would have Awakened, I would have stayed with him.” That thought makes her look very conflicted. “You’ve probably been terribly confused, Henr-”

  “Sir Henry Slinks.” He cuts her off before craning his neck to look thoughtfully at Lilly. “In case you ask. Male.” I fail to stifle a laugh, and try to mask it as a cough.

  “Sir Henry Slinks, sorry.” Lilly looks genuinely apologetic, more than I think I’ve ever seen her be. “I’m also terribly sorry for Awakening you without your consent. It wasn’t my intention. “She hangs her head in a gesture of entirely un-Lilly-like supplication. I just stare at her and decide she must have broken a rule of the Fae. Something probably significant, even unintentionally. “But my intentions are irrelevant. They can’t unmake what my actions did. I offer freely to you a single debt of your choosing, now or future.”

  I just stare, eyes growing wider and wider, utterly gobsmacked, until I hear the voice remind me of my duties. “Scratches. Where you were scratching. What is that?”

  The whiplash leaves my head spinning, so I simply answer with nearly the same flat tone as the weasel normally speaks in, “Chin.”

  “Good, Chin scratches.” I oblige as he turns his eyes towards Lilly, who looks absolutely resolute. “What is a debt? Can I eat it?”

  Lilly responds. “I owe you something, and you may ask me for whatever you please.” She doesn’t qualify it with “Within reason” or “Within my power to give” and that actually scares me a little. An open debt in Fae society is effectively the largest offer a Fae can make.

  “Oh. You owe me. That makes sense. Tree-fae said you would do that.” He manages to look thoughtful for a few moments. “Tree-fae said to ask for candy. I want candy.”

  Lilly looks more unbelievably relieved and exhales like she’d been holding her breath—which, given that he could have said “I want you dead” with that open an offer, she probably had been.

  “I can do that, Sir Henry Slinks. We have a lot to talk about, and I will make you as much candy as I can. Can Ayre pass you to me? I’ll keep giving you scratches.” She adds cheerily, hopefully.

  “Acceptable. Don’t forget your ‘debt’.” He chides as I hand him to Lilly.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I have to suppress a giggle as Lilly doesn't really have the arms to cradle such a large creature, so she loosely slacks him over her shoulder, rather unceremoniously. She bounces off, a steady, loud, purring sound that is punctuated by excited giggles signalling her departure. I turn and look at Olly with an exasperated sigh. “Sometimes I feel like a mother. Or at least what I imagine a mother feels like.”

  He looks sullen, not even the slightest bit amused at the antics. “Yeah.” Is all he can muster.

  “Hey, Olly. Look,” I hesitate, thinking of what to say and having no real experience with this kind of thing still, “I’m not upset with you. The opposite, even. I’m glad you’re alright. I’m glad all of us are alright.” His expression doesn’t shift, so I lean down to his height and get in his face. I stare for a moment before spitting a tiny gout of flame at him. The smallest thing I can manage. He staggers backwards and yelps, falling down.

  “Okay. I got the first thing. But why the fire? You scared the life out of me.”

  “We’re even.” I state nonchalantly as I turn to walk away and make a dismissive gesture over my shoulder.

  “Even?” His confused voice rises and I hear him stepping after me with a little more life. “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t hurt me or Lilly. Not even close, really. The worst you did was scare us.” I say simply. “So, I scared you back. We’re even.”

  He comes to a dead stop a few steps back, so I wait for him without turning around. He starts laughing. A deep, mirthful belly laugh. It is music to my ears after how things have been going with him. This is the first real laugh I think I’ve heard out of him, so I turn around and give him the biggest grin I can and find myself joining into the laughter.

  It feels good. Breath Divine does it feel good. I feel the last two weeks of stress bubble off into the air like just so much hot air with the laughter.

  After what feels like ten minutes, I wipe away a couple errant laughter-induced tears and see Olly doing the same. Sucking in a deep breath of air, Olly follows. “Thanks, Ayre. Between you and Lilly, I think I might have wound up in the best possible place I could be. At least, as near as I can guess. I don’t have a lot to go on,” He looks momentarily sullen, but returns to a smile, “I guess that means you guys win by default.”

  I put on an offended air, holding a hand to my chest to seem as scandalized as possible. “By default? I’m so honored. Well, I’m glad we wound up with you over…oh you know, the myriad other cursed amnesiacs wandering around in the woods these days. Blessed be we upon this blessed world.” I stick my tongue out at him and spin on my heels.

  “Let’s set about making our actual final preparations while Lilly has her heart-to-heart.” He starts to follow behind and to my right. “I wanted to ask, by the way. What happened to make Lilly so bashful as I was getting back? Need to know what to mock her for later, I’m sure you understand.”

  He makes a much more relaxed shrug and a small smirk that comes very naturally to him. “When I was still out, I’d been having terrible dreams, but they went away abruptly to be replaced with pleasant music. I came to with her resting my head in her lap and her gently stroking my hair and humming a tune. I said, still somewhat drowsy, “Wow, you’re pretty.”” He pauses, turning away, “It was just the first thing I thought to say. I wanted to apologize after, but the words just kinda died when I saw how shocked she looked.” He rubs the back of his head. “I thought I made her mad or something since she stood up so fast and walked away.” His face looks a bit sullen as he's clearly worried about having offended Lilly.

  I roll my eyes with a small smile. He's hopeless. She's hopeless. Both for very different reasons. “She…wasn't mad. That I'll promise you.”

  He lightens up a bit, thankfully, and follows with, “So, what's the deal with the new…halberd?”