Chapter Thirty-four

Eskil waved his hand at her and took another step forward, but this time his foot failed to find the stone step and his knees buckled into the snow. His feet fell out in front of him and he tumbled onto his back, sliding down the steep slope that was rough from the random stones beneath it. He grunted when he came to a stop roughly twenty feet from where he had slipped, shaking his head and brushing the snow from his hair. He looked back up at Libelle who was covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

"If you laugh, I will drag you right down here with me," he snarled.

Libelle tried desperately to hold in her laughter, her stoic demeanor disappearing in a moment. Eskil was an all-powerful deity who had been skilfully crafted by Búri, the father of gods. He was thousands of years old with a strong, powerful voice, an explosive temper, a will to live, and a will to kill. A great dragon who was meant to be feared by mortals and his kin. He was a prince among the dragon-kind.

This powerful, menacing cruel beast had just slipped and fell down a snowy hill and was now buried up to his waist in snow. He looked almost innocent despite his dark and demonic glare. She couldn't stop herself, she couldn't hold it in. How was she supposed to remain serious at such a moment?

She laughed hard as she made her way down the steps to his side. "You should have seen your face! Your eyes were about to burst from their sockets when you fell!" She laughed even more. "I told you to watch where you were putting your feet."

Eskil wanted to reach up and strangle her, but he didn't want to be stuck in the cold with waves of excruciating pain pulsating through him. He wadded up a ball of snow and hurled it at her, missing and hitting the horse behind her instead. Her stallion snorted angrily, pulled on his reins and attempted to turn his rear end towards Eskil.

"That's enough now, settle yourself." She patted her horse's neck, trying to ease his fresh anger. "Will you climb on now?"

Eskil looked up at her horse, its brown eyes telling him he was in for a treat if he got too close. "Your beast looks like it wants to take a chunk out of me."

"Well, you did hit him with a snowball."

"It was meant for you!" He tried to stand up, but his feet slipped out from under him and he returned to the snowy prison he had collapsed into moments earlier. He stared at the hand Libelle had extended out to him as tears of laughter froze to her lashes.

"I do not need your help."

She lost her smile and Eskil saw the life in her expression disappear in seconds. Her eyes turned dull, like her soul had just fled from her body. In a moment, she had returned to the dragon slayer he was used to seeing; one lacking any emotion. She was an empty shell again. It was puzzling how she could simply switch like that; she had been smiling and laughing only a moment ago. Now she looked as if she could take his life, right here and now and not feel a thing.

Her hand was still extended, so he hesitantly took hold of it. She pulled him up to his feet and led him back to the steps without a word. He remained quiet, mentally trying to figure out what just happened. She gestured towards her horse again, and instead of arguing, he stepped up into the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. It was strange to see her so quiet. It was unlike her. Unlike the woman he had grown to hate.

She took the reins once he was comfortable in the saddle and began to walk at a speedy pace down the mountain, her feet seeking out secure footing without effort. She remained silent until the sun was at its peak in the sky at midday. Eskil had remained quiet as well, keeping his thoughts private from her. He watched his surroundings closely, taking in the sights and smells that were different than they were as a dragon. Smells were not as strong, and he struggled to pinpoint where the scents came from or what they were. His hearing was not as sharp either, so he didn't hear the rustling of small animals in the brush until they were darting away.

When he gazed out into the distance he could only see so far, and when he looked to the thick forest at the foot of the mountain all he could see were trees. Being mortal was terrible. His face still ached from the slayer's assault on his nose, which had been turning a dark blue and spreading under both his eyes. The priest who spoke called it a bruise, but he had never had such a wound.

The slayer's horse was plowing through the snow with hardly any effort at all, and he was noticing that the further they traveled down the mountain, the less snow there was covering the landscape. Green blades of grass peaked through the thinning ice, and trees did not appear to be frozen in a forever winter. Trees were actually budding and others were completely covered in dark green leaves. It was warmer now they were further down the mountain, and the heavy animal skins did not seem so necessary. His pants were still damp from the snow that had melted on them when he fell, causing him to shift uncomfortably in the leather saddle.

He looked down at the elf who had remained silent for the last few hours, never once uttering a word. She never huffed or puffed while wading through the snow, nor did she trip or flounder. Her ivory skin was flush, and her long strands of hair danced in the wind and bounced along her lower back. The only sign that she was not an undead was the occasional pet to her stallion's chin. The horse would nicker at her and push its nose into her palm, being rewarded with a gentle caress.

He had found himself thinking of all the gods who could have aided her, what spell they had given her, and what the answer might be to returning to his original form. Yet he could not find any answer or conclusion to anything he asked himself. He would need to journey to the home of the gods for those answers, but to do that, he needed his wings. He was stuck for now, he knew that much. There was nothing he could do until the conniving mortal female beside him decided otherwise. She was right, he needed her. He would have to play her game.

He could not kill her, even if he wanted to. Even if he tried to, he could not kill her. Not with his own hands, and that was the only way her life could be taken. He would not grant that pleasure to any other dragon, or any other man for that matter.