Out in the Cold: Part 7

Part VII: Return

Things began to fall apart quickly after that.  Eriden announced a restructuring of the Lyall Guild into squadrons.  The healing wing would be “used as needed only” with all medics being put to work in each group.  She was put into Zinnia’s division, which is something she did not necessarily mind but the change felt like a stark contrast to her medical wing duties.  At least Ralli had been placed into that squadron too so it wasn’t all bad but Amalia did fear what would happen if someone needed medical attention back at the Guildhouse.

Zinnia’s squadron was deployed almost at once and so the young dragon could only hope no emergency arose while she was gone.  The next few weeks would be spent in an adjacent world to Miraeh called Nibiru, which had reached out concerning “malicious spirits infesting the rivers”.  To Amalia’s surprise, this had been effectively true; some ill-intentioned water nymphs had taken up banditry, specifically targeting ferryboats.

After temporarily blocking the rivers off, they were able to put down the sinister nymphs but the locals had been less than thrilled about what that did to the local trout population.  A minor docking of pay left the squad less than thrilled.  The next job had already been sent to them but they took an hour to relax in a nearby meadow, laying down in the long strands of green-yellow grass.

“Do you think Eriden’s going to be mad we didn’t get the full payment?” Ralli asked from where he was laying down, whittling a twig absent-mindedly with a knife.

“Oh, it’s likely,” Zinnia said with one of her normal, pleasant smiles.  “But we still did the job and we were paid some amount.  He cannot be upset at us because we did not return empty-handed.”

“If you say so…” the kobold said, scooting over to allow Pod to lay down next to him. 

“Are water nymphs like… your cousins?” Amalia asked Zinnia, who laughed.

“Are gnomes yours?”

“Ew.  I don’t want Eriden as my cousin.”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

Zinnia had orders to not return until they had acquired a certain amount of gold and so the squadron spent the next three weeks making their quota.  World-hopping became just an average Tuesday.  One moment, they were fighting chimeras in Arcadia, the next they were exploring crypts in Lemuria.  While she still worried about not being so readily available to help with any healing needs, Amalia did start to take to this wandering lifestyle.  There were new adventures around every corner, new friends to make wherever they went, new stories to tell the others back home.

And eventually, when their supplies had run low and their quota was met, they returned to the Guildhouse.  There was no grand party thrown in their honor.  Just a quieter hall with less people than what Amalia was used to. 

“Doesn’t quite feel the same,” Zinnia commented softly that day and Amalia nodded solemnly.

Ciorna and her squadron had seemingly returned a few days prior and were gearing up for another round of missions.  Amalia found her in the storage room of the healing wing, rifling through the herbs with a curled lip and a furrowed brow.

“This is ass,” the herbalist said plainly as she lifted a dried leaf from the shelf and gingerly put it in a tiny bottle nearby.  “Vatu’s been out all this time too… no one’s here to tend to any of our stuff… we’re not even here long enough to resupply things in a meaningful way.  Foraging takes time…”

“And Eriden and Giorgos are…?” Amalia asked.

“Sitting on their asses doing nothing but administrative work apparently,” Ciorna retorted.  “But I don’t believe that at all.  Probably just happy to have us raking in more coin… which we are definitely doing but I hate this new system entirely.”

“When are y’all leaving?” Amalia asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Ciorna sighed.  “But hey, at least we can have some drinks today before we leave.”

“That’d be nice.”

It was late in the afternoon when they dined together that day.  Edith had cooked up a greater meal than normal, a quiet sort of way to welcome Zinnia and her crew back to the Guildhouse.  The tavern’s apple ale had always tasted good but Amalia felt like it somehow tasted better alongside her aching muscles and exhausted brain.  While the conversations didn’t reach the roaring volume from months past, a pleasant enough buzz occupied the air.  Amalia leaned against the table, sipping her drink thoughtfully.

I missed this…

And then, fate lifted its ugly, eldritch head.  It turned and set its eyes upon Guild Lyall.

The doors swung open and sunlight poured into the Guildhouse.  Amalia, mid-drink, side-eyed whoever it was, listening as the murmurs of conversation fell into a quiet lull.

A little girl all but stumbled through the guild’s threshold, wide eyed and looking at the group of ragtag adventurers in awe.  She had a cute dress on, floral with a blue ribbon at her waist.  Her polished black shoes made a clack, clack, clack sound with every curious step.  Each strand of her hair was white as snow until the end, where it shifted to a fiery red.  Her ears were pointed, clearly marking her as an elf.  Amalia assumed she could not have been older than 7 years or whatever the elven equivalent was.

“Hey everyone!” she beamed.  “Daddy, look!  Look, we’re home!”

“Myrie, please,” came a tired, deep sounding voice.

He stepped through the door and Amalia could almost feel the even stare of fate from its omniscient perch.  His short white hair was combed back and a dark gray scruff had taken to his wideset jawline.  Pointed ears made her think he was an elf—Amalia had heard of something called snow elves before, maybe he was one of those?  They were supposedly rare, even in Miraeh. The simple traveler’s robe he wore did little to hide the armor underneath and the longsword strapped to his belt. 

“By the gods… Zelus, is that really you?” Ciorna asked, standing up from the bench.  “You’ve been gone for ages!”

“It has been a while, yes,” the white-haired man replied.  “Two years, I would wager.”

“Myrie’s grown so tall…” Amalia heard Naera comment as the lull in noise suddenly grew louder and louder.

Older members of the guild rose from their chairs and moved in to greet Zelus and his young daughter, their joy nearly infectious.  Amalia stayed seated, taking a thoughtful sip from her mug.  Something unseen was in the air now, the sort of something that made her wonder if things were about to change. 

And right on cue, Eriden and Giorgos appeared at the top of the stairs leading from the guild’s living quarters to the dining hall.  Any sort of chatter from those greeting Zelus died at once, a thick tension clogging the atmosphere quick abruptly.

“Well, look who decided to come back,” Eriden remarked with a big smile.  There was no warmth in his voice.  “You look like shit, brother.”

Zelus’s smile was forced and fleeting.  “It’s been a long journey.  But I am relieved to be back.”  He bent down to grab where his daughter had dropped her bag unceremoniously onto the wooden floor.

“Now, now,” Eriden held up a hand.  “Before you go trying to move into your office, don’t forget our agreement.”

“I am aware I passed leadership to you,” Zelus replied airily.  “I wish to return to Guild Lyall… as a member of it.  Do you accept?”

Amalia was almost certain Ciorna was going to protest this decision on the spot but she remained quiet, eyes narrowed.

“Of course.  You know, it’s been a while since we had a dragon in the guild,” Eriden continued and Amalia felt herself inhale her ale.  She began coughing, which felt all the louder in the hanging silence. 

A dragon!?

Her eyes snapped from the gnome to Zelus, whose tired expression had scarcely changed at all since he had walked in.  No horns, no tail either… he must have been hiding his identity just as she was.  If he’d been traveling, then that made sense—the road was dangerous, after all.

Is he going to figure me out…?

“Right, well, it’s nice to be back.  I assume my old room is—”

“Occupied,” Eriden cut him off.  “I moved into it.  Biggest room and all that.  You can have one of our spare rooms… Someone can show you there… ah… Amalia, since you seem to be struggling with your booze, why don’t you show Zelus and the little miss up the stairs to their quarters?  I believe room 205 is open.”

Fuck.

Those colorless eyes flitted right to her.  She felt like a fly under a microscope, pinned and dissected.  Slowly, she lowered her mug to the table.  A few droplets still felt like they clung to her lungs but

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Somehow, despite feeling so anxious, she managed to keep her voice calm.

Taking them up the stairs to the housing quarters should have been easy but for some reason, she worried that she’d trip over nothing and end up embarrassing herself.  But through some miracle, she didn’t, and soon enough, she stood in front of the vacant room’s door.  It had been Bryan’s last time but he had left and the place was sitting empty, waiting for the next unfortunate fool to take it. 

“Here you go…” Amalia said as she opened the door.  At once, a whiff of something musky and borderline foul caught her nose.  Her lips creased in an attempt to brace herself as she tried to gauge Zelus’s reaction.

He did not look thrilled.

“Daddy,” whined Myrie softly.  “I want my old room back.”

“No, Myrie,” he said.  “It’s not ours anymore.”

He side-eyed Amalia, a cutting and thoughtful glint in his pupils.  And then, calm and cold as a winter’s wind, he said, “My thanks, Miss Amalia.”

She was certain he knew.  Somehow.  Somehow, he had already figured her out.  But he didn’t say anything, simply walking into the room with his daughter trailing behind him.  The little girl pinched her nostrils shut and made a face.

“I’ll… leave you to it…” Amalia said and fled the scene quickly, heart thundering in her ears. 

Everything would change, she knew, with the return of Zelus.  Not just for her but for the guild.  The tension was thick in the air the moment Eriden had seen him, sparking in a way that threatened to ignite the whole building if they weren’t careful.  Amalia wanted no part in that; she wanted to stay as far away from Zelus as she could. 

But everything over the next few days seemed to conspire against that.

When Ciorna and her squadron departed, the Guildhouse felt all the emptier and that somehow made it seem like she was running into him constantly.  At the dining hall, at Grawn’s smithy to get her glaive sharpened, in every corridor… Finally, she resorted to hiding out in the healing wing storage room, rummaging through their pathetic stock.  Ciorna had taken a fair amount of herbs with her.  Amalia didn’t mess with herbs for her own magic but she considered how maybe foraging would be a good use of her time. 

Technically, Zinnia’s squad was having downtime to recuperate but a breath of fresh air seemed nice.

Right, some mugwort, chamomile, lavender… will I even find all of this outside?  Or should I just try to order some?  Some turmeric would be nice too… Ah, crap, but if I want that, I’d have to ask Giorgos for guild funds for it and he still seems kinda pissed about me letting Ralli stay with us…

“Hello?

Speak of the devil.  She would have recognized Ralli’s voice anywhere—they had spent too many nights talking into the wee hours of the morning. 

“In here!” she called to the kobold, who wandered in scratching the top of his muzzle.

“Taking stock, eh?  Need any help?”

“Honestly, I may need to do some gathering.  But some of this isn’t going to be found super easily… think Giorgos will give us some money?”

“Me?  Probably.  You?  Iffy.”

“Gee thanks.”

Ralli shrugged.  “I know it’s my fault he has beef with you but he seems weirdly okay with me.  Do you want me to ask him?”

“I don’t want to put that on you,” Amalia admitted.  “Talking to him sucks.”

“Geez!” Ralli laughed.  “Not sure which of you is worse about the other at this point.  But for the record… yeah, talking to him does suck.  How much are you thinking?”

“Maybe like… fifteen gold?”

“That’ll be a hard swing.  Will ten be alright?”

“Yeah, it’ll do.”

“Neat, I’ll be back!”

She went about her work for a bit longer, plucking out what ingredients had obviously gone bad and disposing of them into a bag.  When she heard the door to the healing wing open again, she assumed it was Ralli.

“Back so soon?  Let me guess, he didn’t give you the money, huh?”

“Hello…?”

Not Ralli.  She froze instantly, breath caught in her throat.  Then slowly, she glanced over her shoulder at where Zelus stood.

Oh.  Awkward.

Amalia shot upright into a standing position, dusting herself off.

“Hi,” she said.  “Do you uh… do you need help…?”

Please say no, please say no, please say—

“My daughter has a condition.  I was wondering if you had anything that may help,” Zelus said.  “Ciorna would keep some potions labeled ‘soothing aid’.  Maybe you know where those are?”

Soothing aid…

Off the top of her head, no, but her mind felt blank when she stared at him.  He always looked so… mad.  Unfriendly.  Cold.  It was like he couldn’t wear any other expression.  It was like he couldn’t be anything but that.  She worried he hated her.  It was a silly thought; it shouldn’t have really mattered because he wasn’t her direct boss and he was just some guy that frowned a lot.  But she worried all the same. 

Oh, get a grip.  He’s a dragon.  You grew up in a clan of those.  Just don’t give your secret away and treat him like you would anyone else.

“No… but let’s take a look!” Amalia exclaimed, surprised at the jovialness ringing out from her own voice.

As they combed through the storage room, she felt more compelled to talk to fill the silence between them.

“So you were the guild leader before Eriden?” “Yes.”

“I’m sure it must be weird to be back here after a few years.”

“Not much has changed.  But some stuff has.”

“I guess you must’ve missed it if you came back.  Where’d you head out to?”

“A lot of different places.  Different worlds.  Have you checked that shelf there?”

“Nope, that one’s next I’m gonna look at.  Different worlds, huh?  Avalon, ever?”

“Once or twice.  Just a trip to King’s Rest.”

“Oh!  That’s where I’m from.  How about you?”

“A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

That halted their conversation in its tracks.  She paused what she was doing, glancing over at where he was looking another shelf up and down with a gentle ‘hmm’ rumbling in the back of his throat.  A place that didn’t exist anymore… what a strange thing to say.  Amalia could not have said she had heard of worlds ending before… not except for one story—Avalon. 

“Oh,” Amalia said, picking up a vial of herbs to try to identify it from the hastily-scribbled label on it.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  I hope this place can become your home again.”

He didn’t reply to that. 

Bad conversation choice, bad conversation choice… new topic.

“Has the Guildhouse changed much since you left?” Amalia asked him.  “Feels like it’s one of those places that’s been added onto so many times that it’s like uhhh…”  Where the hell was she going with this sentence?  She panicked a bit, her words speeding up. “I played a game once when I was little and it had this castle and in the castle, there were so many rooms and each room had secrets.  Like you could go through this fake stained-glass window and there’d be a slide and—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zelus said flatly and she was glad his back was to her so he didn’t see her cringe at herself.

“Right…” Amalia sighed, setting the vial down.  The next one caught her attention and despite Ciorna’s messy handwriting, she was able to make out the words ‘soothing aid’ on its label.  She picked it up and walked over to Zelus.  “Here you go.  Do you need me to help with giving her the potion at all or…?”

“That is not necessary.  Thank you, Miss Amalia.”

After Zelus departed, Ralli came back with a scowl on his snout.  Even before the kobold spoke, Amalia could tell things had not gone well. 

“Sorry, Amalia.  I barely managed to get five gold from him,” Ralli sighed.  “He’s being stingy as hell and I don’t get why.  We’re pulling more jobs than ever!”

“Ever think things’ll get better?” Amalia asked and the kobold shook his head.

“I mean, it’s been this way since I got here but I gotta say, I wonder if it can stay like this.  No one’s happy.  Grawn doesn’t even sing when he forges anymore,” Ralli handed her the coins he had collected from Giorgos.  “Think it’s weird too that our paychecks haven’t really gotten bigger even with all this extra work…”

“I didn’t want to think about that,” Amalia remarked, rubbing her forehead.  “But you’re right.”

“His name is literally Eriden Goldpocket so you tell me where you think that extra cash is going,” Ralli snorted.

“He’s also apparently buddies with the local guard so if he cheats us, we’re just kind of screwed,” Amalia said, patting the kobold on the back.  “Sucks but you know what’ll make this better?  Some muffins from Edith’s.”

“Oh, right, Giorgos said we’re not allowed to take the extra food scraps.  They’re all going to the guard now,” Ralli said sourly. 

Amalia’s brows shot upward.  What the hell?  The guard had their own funding and their own cooks!  Why the hell were the guild’s scraps going to them instead of being kept as leftovers for the members?

“That’s fucking dumb,” the dragon grumbled with a scowl.

“Agreed,” Ralli rubbed his scaled eyebrows.  “I have a plan, by the way.  I hope you’ll trust me.”

“What kind of plan?”

“The kind where maaaaybe things start changing around here for the better?”

“Don’t give me hope, Ralli.”

“Ha!  Well, let’s see what I can do and go from there.  Until then… ale break?”

“Yeah, I could use a pick me up.”

The kobold and the dragon gave each other a small fistbump and headed to the dining hall.

---

The training grounds behind the Guildhouse had seen less and less use over the course of the last few months but Amalia tried to make it a habit to visit the yard at least once every so often.  She did not feel particularly out of practice but sometimes rust crept onto muscles even when you weren’t looking.  Zinnia’s squadron had been at their headquarters for several days at this point and the young dragon was starting to get accustomed to life not on the road.  It would all come to an end soon, she knew.  Eriden was already figuring out their next assignment and had not made that a secret.

It should not have surprised her to find that Zelus had already somehow managed to squeeze into the grounds before her.  He really did have a habit of showing up in exactly the wrong places.  Although it was large enough of a training field for the both of them, the idea of not being alone made her think twice of actually practicing.  She paused at the gate, debating turning heel and running but also fearing that would be awkward.  So instead, she lingered, watching as Grawn handed him a sword.

“This one’s like your last,” the orc said.  “But made with a lighter metal.  Imbued it with an ice rune too.  Thought you might like that.”

Zelus had picked the third dummy from the gate.  It had been fashioned out of straw, a few sticks, and pillowcases—not exactly the most realistic.  But she could tell he was not testing the blade against the striking dummy’s soft body.  He thrusted the blade, glancing down at the way his hand rested on its grip.  Then he swung again.  And again.  Frowning all the while.  She swore all he did was frown.

“Ice won’t do me any good,” Zelus said.  “Got any wind crystals?”

“Could swap it out for one, yeah,” Grawn remarked with a nod, taking the blade back.  “Feel good, though?  I know your old sword’s seen better days and I’ve improved my stock since you left.”

“The rest is perfect.  Just swap the ice stone for a wind crystal and it will be exactly what I need.”

“You got it.”

Grawn departed, throwing a quizzical look in Amalia’s direction as he passed her by.  She knew now Zelus had no distraction.  Did she want to stay?  At this point, she kind of felt like she had to…

With a sigh, Amalia took up the training spot closest to the dummy near the gate.  She held the glaive with both hands, telling her to ignore that she had a potential audience.  Over the months she had been in Guild Lyall, it had become easier and easier to hide the draconic parts of herself… even if she did still give into collecting shiny things here and there…

A deep breath was taken then she faced off against the dummy.  Nothing complicated was needed, just a quick refresher.  She shifted into a battle stance, going through her mental checklist of things she needed to practice.  And one by one, she began through the motions, relieved that her miniature vacation had not totally robbed her of her muscle memory.  When she made it to the bottom of the list, she paused, lowering the glaive’s head. 

Right, Mom used to charge the glaive with a smite but I definitely can’t practice that here.  I wonder how long he plans to—

A gust of cold hair blew against her back so strongly that she stumbled forward a step.  When she turned, she saw its source.  Four thin horns had grown out from his hair, so similar in color that they almost blended in entirely.  His tail was thin and white-scaled with a row of blue-white spikes coursing down it.  A frosted air hung about him, snowflakes dancing a wind conjured by the slight rotation of his wrist. 

So… he’s an ice dragon.