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THE TENT I’D STUMBLED into was clearly for storage. Crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly, some open and others nailed shut. Out of curiosity, I looked into the first open barrel. Grey dirt. Weird. I took a pinch between my fingers, rubbing it between them. It was more like sand, though I’d never seen such uniform sand particles before.
I left it to look at the next crate. Something was packed in dry lamb’s wool. I pulled out the wool to find a simple metal rod. Better put the wool back. I didn’t trust these artifacts. As far as I was concerned, anything old might spit lightning bolts at a moment’s notice.
The rest of the barrels and crates were the same. Useless junk. No food. No water. No clothing. No weapons. Just old things packed in wool, weird grey sand, and colorful glass bottles also packed in wool. The wool might work as Firestarter. It was bone dry and plentiful, but otherwise, this was just heavy junk.
It might be safe to go back outside.
I snuck to the edge of the tent and looked out. People swarmed across the camp, toward the road I’d arrived on. There, where the lone Magika had lost his mind, there was nothing but a smoking heap of ashes, a bowl still rolling across the road, and three dead guards slumped in uncomfortable positions. The man who had looked like he wouldn’t move had moved just fine. He alone of the guards was still on his feet – at a tent as far from the barrel as the one I occupied. I swallowed. I could have been one of those poor fools.
You still could be. I can see you all the way from here. Either get back in the tent or step all the way out. You look suspicious half-way in the door.
Well, that was embarrassing – being called out by a dragon.
I coughed awkwardly and left the tent with a purposeful stride heading into the camp. People rarely questioned anyone who looked like they knew what they were doing. I kept my gaze forward – a man on a mission – but watched everything from the corners of my eyes.
It’s going to be hard to help you become the best version of yourself. I swear you’re prone to self-sabotage.
Who said I wanted to be my best self?
Doesn’t everyone? If you don’t want to be the best version of yourself, what do you want to be?
I want to be the real version of myself. This one. The one who has a bit of fun and doesn’t worry about ‘best.’
The real version of myself was starting to draw attention and I still had to get to the center of the encampment. Despite the milling movement toward the road, eyes occasionally followed me, squinting in thought. Did I stand out too much?
Maybe it’s because they are all going one way and you are going the other.
That seemed reasonable. I smiled at the squinters. It wasn’t the first time that I’d drawn attention in a crowd, but there was something strange about this crowd. What was it?
For starters, there were no children. No one at all younger than me – and I was about twenty.
A dragonlet. We’d barely trust you to control your own flame at that age. And I’m pretty sure you’re lying about being twenty. Hubric said you were seventeen.
There were also no elderly people.
I heard a rumor that Magikas don’t get old.
That would be handy. Or maybe they died young, which wouldn’t be handy at all.
And there were very few women. I knew for a fact that there were female Magikas, but there were more males in this camp. They were dressed in a fashion that to me meant, ‘try to pick this pocket.’ It was all I could do to keep my itching hands to myself.
You saw what that bowl did. Pick the wrong pocket around here and you might end up with your own mobile storm.
The entire place smelled strange. Spices I’d never smelled before filled the air and made me twitch my nose irritably.
At one campfire, rather than food cooking, there were a variety of glass vials set up on a twisting metal arch over the fire. They bubbled with liquids of various colors and consistencies under the keen watch of a female Magika.
Someone enterprising was selling herbs and cloth from the back of his wagon. The Magikas buying from him pretended that they weren’t buying at all, “just looking” and then would slip him a coin and walk away.
I let my eyes wander over the oddities. Maybe there would be a clue about how to rescue Hubric’s friend. I was starting to think that was a fool’s mission. Maybe I should fly away and rethink this.
I’m not a horse. You can’t fly me where I don’t want to go, and I have committed to help Hubric. I met your Dominar when she visited our Queen. I was impressed. I agreed to help her efforts.
We could do that from Dominion City or anywhere else in the Dominion. We didn’t have to die saving a girl we’d never met.
I was asked to help this way. I am committed to this.
Just my luck. The fire-breathing dragon had more moral fiber than I did.
Perfect.
I turned a corner around a yellow and black striped tent and saw the central red and white tent stirring in the breeze. Almost there!
Just find the girl. First things first. Then look for an ally. I can’t arrive on the scene until the last minute and you could use someone to help you.
And how did she expect me to do that?
Use your brain. Look around. There are always people with goals that don’t line up with their communities. Use that.
It sounded so easy when she said it, but it wasn’t like people just raised their hands over their heads and volunteered to help you betray their group.
I’m sure that if you keep your eyes open a likely option will present itself.
Well, it would have to reach out and grab me, because I wasn’t seeing anything. Everyone on the road between the tents and around those cook fires looked content and purposeful.
Just have a little faith.
A hand reached out of the yellow and black striped tent and yanked me in.