Private Tales A Dragon for Company

[Alistair Wren]

Morning broke over the desert. A brilliant sun, wide as the dunes it bore, seeped gradually over them and stung Alistair's eyes as he awoke. Slumped up against a shrub, he blinked, adjusting his vision to the reflection of the sun's rays in the small oasis where he had spent the night. Alzros stirred beside him, chirping and growling as he stretched his wings. He had comforted Alistair several times during the night when he had nightmares, the sight of Maho Sparhawk's dismembered body or the fireball that burnt him alive still fresh in Alistair's mind.

It had happened so quickly, and he hadn't had time to process it all.

By his side, lay Maho's staff and his bag containing the map that would lead him to the Baal-Duru river. Groaning, Alistair pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes, his face still stained with tears. His yellow robes were burnt and covered in his master's blood. He breathed in and sighed, then reached around to stroke the baby dragon. He must have been hungry, but there was nothing around to feed him.

"Ugh," Alistair groaned, his heart still racing. His sleep had been broken at best and disturbed by nightmares, the memories of the previous night overburdening his mind.

Head in his hands, he stood groggily and lumbered over to a nearby tree, where he flipped back the front of his robes and relieved himself. He then washed his face and hair in the oasis. Kneeling on the bank, he scooped water up, washing blood, tears and smoke residue from his cheeks. Sighing, he submerged his head in the water, the cold relieving his stress momentarily. He ran it through his hair and washed his face, then raised his head. As he looked up, he saw a figure, female by the looks of it, sitting on a rock on the other side of the pool. Eyes wide, Alistair jerked back, immediately shocked by her presence. Alzros growled, a small ball of fire erupting from his nose as he hissed at her to stay away.

"Sh, it's okay," Alistair said to the dragon, hushing him quiet.

A finger held to his lips, he slowly rose to his full height and walked around the side of the pool, "who are you?" He asked the woman.

 

[Iliris]

Iliris was most definitely not meant to be in places like this. She was a child of the mountains, of trees and snow and cold wind. Not all this sand, scorching sun and only sand dunes for days walk around her. She felt exposed, she was drowning in sweat underneath her light clothing, that covered most of her even lighter skin, and she was getting mildly annoyed.
Because of course Ashieron simply had to go looking for some new leads to a place, where, in a few days, hell broke loose. She had gotten the news, they all had, and, what annoyed Iliris even more, she was the only one really all that worried about the faith of the elf, or at least it did seem so. Yes, of course, he knew his fair share of magic and could survive, but Ash was also too friendly and soft even with all his flames for a place of war. And he had a dragon with him! Iliris had barely seen him after hatching, but she still did worry about Alzros. Even more so than for the elf.
And, damn all winds, did she hate the desert. But she wouldn't be Iliris Karion if she didn't see this journey through.

At least she didn't have to carry that much with her. Iliris spent majority of the midday hours sitting in the sand in her rock form, and tried to travel as much as she could when it was cooler. The night was her savior. And, as she tuned to a literal stone for parts of the day, she had to eat and drink less than another human might have to. So she could go relatively light.
And on foot. As she liked the best.

Even so, the oasis had been a relief. She was getting close, she knew it, but her water supply wasn't looking all that good. And the pool of water was a sight for her sore eyes, even if it only barely could compare with the lakes of the Spine. Still, she sank her feet thankfully in it.
And then she heard it. Steps, breathing, everything that went along with a presence of another living being. Iliris rose to her feet sharply, leaving the side of the pool swiftly. Who else could be here? A flicker of hope rose in her chest. Had she found Ash?

She hadn't. As Iliris found out, following it from a safe distance, she had found a young man, and with him... this made her step back to the pool, revealing herself to the eyes of the man. But it was not him who she looked at. It was... "Alzros?" she would have liked to have more certainty, but the dragon had grown, if it really was him.
And he hissed at her! Although that one she could have seen coming, he probably didn't remember her. But she did know how one could fix that, didn't she?
Dried meat was not the same as fresh one, but one could not be picky in the desert. So she got some of that out, approaching the man and the dragon in her own turn, "Now, no need to be grumpy," and, yes, she had assumed the distinctively lulling voice she used with the smallest of these creatures, holding the meat out.
And then it would have been rude to continue ignoring the man, so she moved her eyes to him. "My name is Iliris. And I should be the one asking that. Who are you? And why is Alzros with you?" her face was full with suspicion, but it was only a half-hearted one. There seemed no harm to be done to the dragon and, well, the man himself didn't look like an immediate danger as well.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Alistair almost jumped back at the sight of the woman. Grabbing Maho's staff, he held it to his chest and stared, wide-eyed at the woman, who appeared to know the dragon. Both Alistair and Alzros were still shell-shocked from the battle, and the arrival of a stranger had them both on edge, but this woman seemed to know him. Brow creased, Alistair approached her cautiously, eyelids twitching as beheld her.

"You know him?" He asked.

Alzros scurried forward and sniffed the woman's hand. Once he recognized her scent, he appeared to calm down and happily ran up her arm and licked her face. That the woman appeared to be friendly to the dragon brought a wave of relief over Alistair and he slumped his shoulders and sighed.

A pause followed. Alistair placed Maho's staff down and rested his forehead in his palm as he gathered his thoughts. The sun bore down, casting a brilliant, orange glow over the dunes, the leaves of the palm trees the only trace of green in sight. Head in his hand, Alistair breathed in and exhaled, then turned around to face the woman.

"My name is Alistair Wren, I was sent to Amol-Kalit on a mission with my teacher, Maho Sparhawk, then..." He gripped his hair fiercely and looked around, struggling to gather his thoughts, "there was an attack, a battle broke out!" He gasped.

Mouth hanging open, Alistair spun around, too distressed to think straight. He scurried over to the side of the pool and smacked his head, "no, no, it's my fault! I shouldn't have dragged Maho out of the tent! We should have run!" Eyes slammed shut, he berated himself, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Thoughts ran through his mind, of what could have been if he had done things differently. If he had only listened to Maho and ran while they had the chance, then he might not be dead. Curling his hands into fists, he stamped his feet and sputtered.

Alzros seemed to know that he was distressed. He flew over, sat on his shoulder and licked his face.

"There was a man there, he had baby dragons with him, he told me to take Alzros and send a message to the spine," eyes closed, Alistair waved a finger in the air as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Yes, that's what I have to do, I have to send word to the Spine about what happened, then get back to the college..." His words trailed off.

 

[Iliris]

If there was one thing that Iliris didn't understand about this particular dragon, then it was his love for licking things. People, to be more specific. Not that she wasn't glad to not earn any more growls or hisses, but when Alzaro's tongue touched her face, she leaned back. Trying to hide a smile. "Oh, I do know him. He traveled with a friend of mine."
This was a lot more like home.
"Hey there buddy," she finally let her fingers slide over the dragon's scales, relaxing more than she had in these past few days, even if for only a split moment.

Then the man spoke again, and all previous thoughts were cast out of her mind. He told as much as she already knew or could guess, but it was still reassuring to hear that Alzros hadn't gotten here out of Ash's dead cold hands. If the elf had handed him over, he was still fully conscious. And, being on his own, could get out just fine. He must.

What started to worry her more, was the man, Alistair he had called himself, breaking down in front of her. Iliris watched as he tried to drag on his story, as Alzros hurried to him, trying to calm the man, all with a sense of almost helplessness. It was indeed no dangerous man in front of her. It was a boy, who had witnessed gore of the battle he was unprepared for, and only just walked out of it. Iliris had once been in a similar spot. But she had also been trained for that, ready for what was to come, and fully aware of everything around her.
Alistair, as far as she could judge, had just been caught in the cross-fire.

And yet he managed to walk out, all that with a baby dragon on his hands.

Iliris sighed, as she went to kneel next to him, resting a hand on the man's shoulder with gentleness that was usually hard to find in her. "Alistair," she spoke, and her voice was calm and assured, far more so than she felt at that moment, "You did everything right. The Spine has heard you."
Well, she had heard him. Others knew enough already to wait a few days until they would reach civilization. Yes, in an instant it had turned to they. There was something fiercely protective rising in Iliris' chest.
"Listen," she spoke as if she saw the future right in front of her eyes, "Right now we are going to rest, and then we will go to a better place. Not in the desert. Where Alzros will be safe and we will find out more about my friend and your teacher." And if Ash was truly fine, he better have the kid's teacher with him.
"You mentioned a college. Where is that? We can go there," there was certainty in her eyes. Iliris didn't like empty promises. If she had said something, she was damned to see it through.
And she also wasn't always so keen for pure charity, but Alistair had indeed rescued the dragon. And she, as well as the other keepers, did owe him for doing their job, even if it was a bit far stretched.
Well, she couldn't just leave him here, could she?

 

[Alistair Wren]

The woman revealed that she did know the dragon, and that she also knew Ashieron, the man who had brought Alzros with him to the battle. Standing a few meters around the side of the pool, Alistair looked up at her with remorse, his brow creasing at the thought of Ashieron, who must have perished along with Maho when the fireball hit the stables. A breeze blew through the shrubs around the side of the oasis, sweeping up Alistair's robes and shoving sand across the bright, orange dunes.

"The man who had Alzros, he..." Alistair's words trailed off. Features pulled back, he gasped and shook his head, giving it another wallop with his hand.

Sputtering, he continued to smack himself in his head, holding back the tears that built in the corners of his eyes. He truly felt like it was his fault that Maho and Ashieron were dead. If he had just stayed with them, he could have cast a ward around the stable to protect it from the fireball. If he had just ran in the first place like Maho had told him, if he had just...

The woman rushed over and placed a hand on his shoulder, softly saying his name.

Alistair hung his head, visibly shaking from stress. He breathed in, and out, utterly refusing to cry in front of her. The woman said that the Spine had heeded his call and that he had done well to find her, to which he closed his eyes and sputtered.

"No, you don't understand!" He cried, "Maho told me we had to run, and I dragged him into the battle, if I had just listened he might still be alive!" Crying out frantically, he stomped his foot, berating himself for his foolishness.

"You're from the Spine?" He sniffed.

A pause followed. Alistair collected himself and breathed in, then turned to face the woman. She told him that they needed to rest, and then they would go to the college. That brought him some degree of relief. He hadn't realized it, but he had started crying several minutes ago. Mortified, he sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve, then forced a small bout of laughter.

"The college is in Elbion, my master gave me a map that leads to the harbor where there's a boat that will take me there," nodding, he pulled his feet around and walked towards the oasis, where he sat on a rock and splashed his face with water. He stood, walked over to Maho's bag and procured the map that lead to the harbour, which he handed to the woman.

"What's your name?" He looked up and asked, a hand outstretched.

 

[Iliris]

Iliris did understand what Alistair was trying to say, even if he didn't finish the sentence. That Ashieron was dead. And maybe it was foolish of Iliris to disregard the words of a person who had been right there with such certainty, but she shook her head, no doubt in her eyes. "I do not know what you have seen, but I do know that Ahieron will not perish in any battle," the elf raised dragons for living, dying from the heat of battle seemed ludicrous for him to do.
Perhaps she was wrong. But this possibility was allowed only by her mind, while Iliris' heart spoke against it. Maybe it would bring her sorrow in the future, but it was a bet she deemed worth taking.

The man blamed himself. A feeling Iliris could understand well enough. When she had went out to kill the dragon, when she had returned home alone, she had not only felt sorrow for the beast, but her people as well. How many times had she asked herself what would have happened, if she had acted better earlier in that battle? Countless upon countless. But if life had though her something, it was that past events were lessons to be learned, not whips to use for torture of oneself.
"You did not know. I am sure you meant well. Whatever happened was not your fault, but the one to strike your teacher," and that much she was sure of.

She nodded in answer to his next question. "I do come from the Spine," her looks definitely betrayed that better than any words ever could, "And I am one of the people Ash wanted you to send message to."

Iliris have Alistair the time he needed to compose himself without pressing any of their matters on hand further. He certainly did have a lot on his heart and shoulders, and the least she could do was give him this little bit of time. That much they had.
"Elbion," she spoke the word as if tasting it. Iliris had heard a lot about the city, even if she had never been there. Apparently, that was about to change. "Very well. Then we will pursue that path. Do you know anything more of this boat?" that was a matter worth specifying. After all, they had a baby dragon on hand.

While Alistair washed his face and found the map, Iliris checked the contents of her bag, frowning, calculating. There wasn't much for three to share, as she had planned her rations only for herself, taking only a little bit above that, just in case. But she could go without food for long enough. Alzros and Alistair would need it more to get out of the desert. And from then on they could figure something out.

She took the map, thanking the man with a nod. Iliris rarely needed aids like these, traveling around the paths she knew well anyway, but she didn't need a lot of time to figure out where they were right now, and where they were supposed to be heading. Not counting the expanse of the dessert, their road didn't seem all that hard.
Although more days spent in these fields of sand didn't cheer her up all that much.

"I'm Iliris," she repeated what she had said once already, but whit a smile that wasn't unkind. It was understandable that her first words could have reached Alistair in a certain state of shock. "Do you have any food with you? Or anything else of that sort?" she asked, her hands still on her own bag. It could aid them if Alistair wasn't completely stranded here.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Cowering over the sand, Alistair shook as he tried to retain his composure, his trembling subsiding when the woman told him that she was certain Ashieron was alive. Hands held above his face, he sniffed, his palms soaked with tears. He shook his head, sputtering hopelessly. Was the woman just trying to console herself? He had seen the fireball hit the stables. Nobody could have survived that.

"No," Alistair muttered, "he was in the stables with my master when it was hit by the fireball, they couldn't have survived that."

If Ashiron had survived, then Maho could have as well, and... No that was impossible. Maho was dead. Alistair had seen the stables explode. Eyes wide and glassy, he stared at the woman, who told him that it was not his fault, but that of the one who had struck the blow. Alistair withdrew a breath. Lips pursed, he rolled his hands into fists and shook, his grief overcome with a second emotion.

Rage.

Gerra had lead the attack on the Shah's camp. He was too blame for Maho's death. Alistair held his mouth shut, his fingernails digging into palms. He wanted to take from Gerra what he had taken from him, to drown his armies in a sea of fury.

But it was fruitless, Alistair had just been a young mage caught in the crossfire. The idea of him taking on the fire giant was ludicrous.

"Fuck!" He threw his hands down and shouted, "I'll kill him!" He kicked the sand.

A pause followed. Breathing in and out, Alistair hung his head and pouted, overcome with anger. His arms hung limp by his side as he stared at the sand, hopeless, and without any way to avenge his master's death. He would think of a way, he would find a way to hurt Gerra in the way he had hurt him, but he needed to recuperate, to get back to the college and tell the other mages what had happened. He panted, chest rising up and down as he withdrew his hand, then ran his hand through his hair, the strands matted with smoke residue.

The woman said had come from the Spine, and that she was the one Ashieron had wanted Alistair to get word to. His head in his hand, Alistair turned around and nodded. At least he had done something right.

"It's docked at the Baal-Duru river, the map leads there," he said, waving a hand towards the map.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Iliris, took the map from Alistair and read it. She asked him if he had any food or water, and he shook his head.

"No," he groaned.

 

[Iliris]

A fireball. A fireball. Iliris wanted to laugh with relief, but that would have been most insensitive, so she held her face straight. But her soul sang with joy. A thought that Ash could have been killed by a fireball was truly insane.
"We withstand flames made by dragons," she said plainly, tentatively in a way, because, yes Ash was most certainly still alive. But Alistair's master? She couldn't give such promises. She couldn't give any promises about him.

She knew what was to follow, but it still took Iliris a moment to adjust her stance and tone to the change in man's emotions. Grief grew into anger, all still painted with pain. She knew this feeling as well. Although then, all those years ago, her anger was turned against herself. Maybe it was better this way, to feel rage towards an enemy. Maybe it would let him heal faster than she had.
Or perhaps not.
"Revenge of a loved one is a noble task," that much she believed, and that much she said, "But haste is an enemy of any battle."
That is to say: she really hoped that Alistair would wait and think, before jumping into something that he would regret. Not that it was really her business, no. But it was her obligation to warn, even if one given to her by herself only.

She saw as much as Alistair said on the map herself, but Iliris nodded nevertheless. So they were going there almost blind, hoping for the best. But that was fine, she could deal with it. She had done so many times in the past. "I see. Good. Then let's hope that nothing happens in the way," although hope was, indeed, a foolish feeling.
Yet a vital one as well.

Alistair didn't have any provision with him, which was as much as she had expected, so Iliris simply nodded once more. "You should eat something. Before we set out," with these words she handed him a pouch out of her own bag. It had nuts and dried fruit in it, food good for traveling, since it filled you quickly and didn't spoil for long. The meat was kept for Alzros. And the oasis could provide them water for now, even if Iliris did prefer to boil it before drinking.
Ah, how she missed the clear mountain springs.

"We will wait for the midday heat to pass. Then we will go. We'll have to stay closer to the river, but not too close, for it may be dangerous there. I hope you aren't wounded?" she raised an eyebrow. If Alistair was hurt, it could slow them down.

But for now they had to rest.

***
​

And as the sun started its decline Iliris, truthful to her words, folded the map, gathered everything back into her bag and rose to her feet. She had given herself last splash in the pool, but the water was already evaporating with a great speed. She hated it.
And she would hate it even more in the open desert, but they had to go.

"May the skies bless us," she muttered to herself, before turning to Alistair and Alzros, "Let's go. You'll see, we'll reach Elbion sooner than you can imagine."

And she'd return to the Spine not long after that.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Alistair could tell that Iliris was trying to contain her laughter. He then understood why when she said that dragon keepers were immune to fire. The revelation brought a smile to his features and he withdrew a gasp, laughing slightly at his initial worry. Holding his hands before his face, he smirked, not at Iliris, but at himself for believing Ashieron to be dead. He wiped his face on his sleeve and pulled his feet through the sand, walking past her.

His lip furrowed into a straight line when Iliris said that revenge of a loved one was a noble task. He looked up at her and nodded, trudging through the sand as he walked back to his camp site by the side of the oasis.

"I'm not hungry," he grumbled.

He hadn't eaten since the day before and still didn't have an appetite. Still, Iliris offered him the nuts and dried fruit in her bag. Pulling back his features in disgust, Alistair groaned, rolled his eyes and dove into the pack, where he found some pouches with food. He boiled some water from the oasis, sat down and nibbled on the nuts and dried fruit, while washing them down with water. They were very dry and difficult to swallow, but it was probably just his lack of an appetite that made them unappetizing.

Iliris said they would wait for the midday heat to pass before setting off. Sitting on a rock at the edge of the pool, Alistair nodded, his mouth full of nuts and berries.

"No, I'm not wounded" he shook his head.

Taking off his boots and hose, Alistair sat on the bank of the oasis and dipped his feet in the water, enjoying the cool feeling against his burnt skin. Arching his neck back, he continued to eat the nuts and berries from Iliris pack while he let his feet cool in the water.

- - -
​

The day subsided into the afternoon and the sun drifted behind the mountains. Alistair dried off his feet and put his hose and boots back on, then packed everything, including Maho's spellbook into his bag and slung it around his shoulder. He took the Professor's staff in hand and pulled his hood over his head, then followed Ilris around the side of the pool and out into the desert. The dragon keeper uttered a prayer for both of them and gestured to Alistair to follow her.

Maho's bag around his shoulder, he trudged through the sand, his robes bloodied and burnt. Raising a hand, he shielded his eyes from the sun with his sleeve and set on after Iliris.

"Revenge won't bring Professor Sparhawk back, but it will make his killers feel the same way I felt," he remarked, his eyes facing directly ahead. Growling slightly, he huffed, still shaken by the events of the battle and struggling to reconcile with his emotions.

"That's all I want," Alistair shrugged.

 

[Iliris]

Stepping back into the desert was terrible. What little sand she had shaken off in the oasis got back on her in an instant, the sun, although not as hot as when it was in its zenith, was still burning even from behind the mountains, and heat raised from the sand below them. She was once more drenching in sweat in only a matter of moments, her body, which could withstand the harshest winters, not suited for facing heat like this.
Yet she simply gritted her teeth and walked forwards. There was no other way they would get anywhere. And Iliris definitely wasn't the one to complain about anything. She endured, she survived and she adapted. Sooner or later. That's how it always worked.

At least Alistair had eaten something, despite his statement of not being hungry. Oh, Iliris knew that feeling as well. She also knew that it didn't save one from fainting because there was no strength at all left in their body.
She hoped that Alzros was old enough already to not be harmed by the desert too much. Baby dragons could be fragile till a certain point. But he was a fire dragon, and heat was his domain. He was probably feeling better than both of them. Hopefully. She had fed him, given him water, made sure that he seemed healthy enough. It had to be enough, it just had to. They had to other choice.

Alistair's words caught her by surprise, but Iliris listened to them with full seriousness. "If that's your path, then pursue it," she nodded, "It won't be easy. There is a chance that it will be your doom. But if it is a must for you, don't let anybody or anything stop you."
That was the little wisdom she had. Or at least believe to have. There were some people who said that you should always forgive those who wronged you. Iliris, on the other hand, was assured, that sometimes the world wronged you enough for any forgiveness to be cast aside. Sometimes you just had to damn it, leave it to flames and do what you had to. You had to forgive when you could. And you had to act when you couldn't.

She didn't try to speak much for some time afterwards. Speaking was wasting energy, and that was a luxury then didn't have.

But, sooner or later, when they had walked enough, climbing the dunes and making their way downwards from them, she raised her voice again. "You are a part of that collage then?" Iliris asked, not averting her eyes from the road in front of them, the one she drew in her head.
She was curious. Just as any other human being could get. And it did get bland, walking in silence, when you had a human company next to you.

And if they had to travel together, she might as well learn more about this man.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Alistair and Iliris walked through the desert for hours, the heat baring down on the them. Few words were exchanged between the two, until Alistair expressed the reason for him wanting to avenge his master. When she responded, Alistair stopped dead in the middle of the dune, his eyes dark and still. He stared her down, feeling almost affronted that she had questioned his intentions. He was still shellshocked from the battle and not in his right mind, so rational thought was simply not coming to him.

As Iliris spoke, Alistair nodded. She respected his decision, and he acknowledged that, even if it wasn't the wisest. They continued to walk, the silence between them marred only by the shuffling of their feet through the sand and their hoarse breaths as they gasped for breath.

Illris asked him if he was part of the college. There was a moment of pause, before Alistair found it in him to manage a smile. The ends of his mouth rose and deep dimples etched into his sunburnt cheeks. Pulling his feet through the sand, he walked up to Iliris and stood beside her, then stifled a bout of laughter. The chance to talk about his magic always raised his spirits, even when they were at their lowest.

"Yes, I am, I double-majored in healing and conjuration, although..." The words trailed off and the smile on his features drooped, "I think I might drop conjuration when I return and study something else." He shrugged, reached around and scratched the back of his head.

"Hydromancy, maybe," he said plainly, as though there was nothing suspicious about what he had just said.

The magic of water would come in very handy in avenging his master, but he did not say that to Iliris.

"What about you? Do you know any magic?" He asked, interested in the woman.

 

[Iliris]

Her question about the college seemed to cheer Alistair up, even if not by much, yet it was still clearly noticeable when compared to his state only a few heartbeats before. Iliris smiled a little at that herself, partially because it was a relief, and an endearing one, to see the young man show any trace of cheerfulness. And it was good for their journey. Traveling was always better with the spirits lifted.
Gloominess did little to make the steps lighter.

"That does sound intriguing," she sounded a bit amused, although not in a mocking way. All there magical subjects did sound interesting, even if mostly only because they were so foreign to her.
There were those who were well-versed in magic around her, of course, there had always been. But Iliris had always trusted her senses and blade more than the magic. She had barely mastered the little she knew, although that one she knew well.

As Alistair mentioned the magic of water, something lighted up in woman's eyes, "I knew a mage like that once. He could raise whole lakes in the Spine, and make new streams as he wished," there was almost a smile beginning to bloom on her lips, but it died out as soon as it appeared, taking the light with it. That was a part of her past now. And there was no point in remembering that.
Garion was dead anyways.

The next question quickly vanished the shadows from her face, as Iliris suddenly stopped, just as they had reached the top of another dune. She looked at Alistair and almost grinned, oh she certainly did so with her eyes. "Only a little," she answered.
The next moment there was a stone statue in front of Alistair, the gray eyes that had just peered into his having lost any shine. Her hair was frozen in the state it had been, everything about Iliris was stilled, inanimate.

She let the spell linger for a moment, before dismissing it, her body returning to flesh again. "Just a simple trick. Not all of us can be double-majored mages after all," and with something that was almost a laugh, she kept on walking.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Pulling his tired feet through the sand, Alistair smirked with amusement when Iliris commented on what he was studying. She spoke of a mage she had heard of, who could lift entire lakes out of their bed. Once Alistair reached the top of the dune, he placed a hand on his hip and whistled, impressed by the feat Iliris had described. He wondered, if some day, he could raise a lake from it's bed as well. Tapping a finger against his chin, he mused on the thought, a light gasp escaping his lips.

"That does sound remarkable, I wonder if a mage could raise a lake from it's bed to drown a city," eyes shifting, he tapped his and laughed to himself, a cheeky grin stretching into his cheeks.

"That would teach Gerra." The smile on Alistair's face suddenly dropped, and he curled his hand into a fist and kicked the sand.

An awkward pause followed. Lowering his head, Alistair smirked to break the tension and looked at his feet. As he raised his head, he smiled, "only joking, I don't know if I could ever raise an entire lake." A shrug, and he turned around and continued to walk down the dune.

He smiled when Iliris said she knew a little magic. When he turned around, he saw a statute, frozen solid, standing where she had been. His eyes grew wide, and he jumped as soon as Iliris waved a hand and return to her usual, mobile self. The ends of his mouth kinked upwards and he laughed with joy, very impressed with her spell.

"That was cool!" He chimed.

At her comment about not being a double-majored mage, Alistair batted the air with his hand in dismissal and laughed, "double-majoring is overrated, I'm only interested in a few of the topics I study and I don't have any free time." Humbled, he shrugged, his cheeks tinted red.

"I've never even been with a girl," he laughed.

- - -
​

Alistair and Iliris walked down the dune as evening approached. The temperature started to drop, giving way to a bitter chill. Wrapping his robes around himself, Alistair stumbled after Iliris, who lead him forward. He was tired and hungry, and was eager to know when they would reach the harbor. A shadow fell over the sand, masking a rocky outcrop which surrounded the road. The rocks cornered off most of the dunes, beside a vast plain which lead directly forward. There were two roads to take, one straight across the desert, and another through the rocks, which would lead them around.

Alistair stopped before the rocks, Maho's staff in his hand, "let's go through the rocks, it should take us to the coast quicker." It was only a wild guess. He truly had no idea how far away the harbor was, but wanted to get there as quick as possible.

Reaching into Maho's bag, he pulled out the map.

"Straight through the desert will lead us pass the harbor, if we go through the rocks, we'll cut our journey in half," he observed, running a finger across the line on the map.

 

[Iliris]

Maybe it hadn't been right to encourage Alistair in his wish for revenge after all. Or so Iliris thought, listening to his words following her own, about rising lakes to drown cities. About somebody named Gerra. And how his only argument against it was the doubt that he could ever raise a lake in the first place.
"Maybe one day," she shrugged, but the look in her eyes was a piercing, evaluating one, "But it's best to consider things like that very carefully before actually doing them."
As Garion hadn't considered relying on her or not.

Iliris shook her head, as if throwing a wayward strand of hair out of her face, banishing the thought. Now really wasn't the place for that.

She allowed herself a little laugh as well, returning to flesh, amused by how impressed he was with her simple showcase of her magic. "Thank you," she nodded, carrying on walking. Iliris herself couldn't really see why somebody like Alistair would be that impressed by her trick. It was almost nothing of compared to what others out there could do after all.

"Oh believe me, with some things in life it's better to wait a bit longer than not," she huffed a laugh, at Alistair. She was a lot less innocent in that regard, but sometimes Iliris wished that it wouldn't be like that.
There was a sweetness in anticipation. And lack of regret.

***​

The evening came down as a soothing caress for Iliris. She didn't feel cold, the chill merely made her whole body sigh in relief, as it could finally set back into its normal state of function, even if only for a bit. And the few rocks they saw almost made her smile foolishly, because they were the closest thing to the mountains that she had seen in many days.
Iliris missed the Spine.

And night was only a temporary balm.

"You think so?" she asked as Alistair offered walking through the rocks. As he pulled out the map, Iliris stopped next to him, leaning over his shoulder to see the way for herself. The man seemed to be right, the road through the rocks appeared to be shorter.
And, oh, did she want to take that road.
"Very well, let's do that," Iliris nodded, after inspecting the map, although even with no prospect of a shorter journey it wouldn't have been hard to persuade her into taking that road. "We can walk for a bit more, and then find a place to rest," their walk had been long by now, and walking through the darkest hours of the night was dangerous. It was the time when many creatures preferred to hunt after all. And Alzros could become tired of all the walking, even if he was being carried. And, even more so, she didn't want to exhaust Alistair too much.

When the decision had been taken, Iliris didn't hesitate to take the road they had chosen. And as her feet touched the now rocky ground, she could almost feel like home.
Only a half a world away. And it was still pretty horrible.