“So, you are a god,” Brandt exhaled.
“No, definitely not. I’ve just got access to a bit of healing magic. That’s about all.” Rayne’s eyes darted over to Caelan. “If we have time, I can try to help some of your sick and injured.”
Caelan nodded. “We can stay for a night or two. Gather some more information and rest. We need to plan for our next step.”
“You’re going to Green Spring?” Brandt’s tone made it sound as if they’d lost their minds.
“We don’t have a choice. We have to kill a goddess, and probably a god.”
ELEVEN
Drayce Ladon
The ball zipped past Drayce’s head close enough to ruffle his hair while sending him crashing to the dirt for cover. Children laughed wildly at him, but he didn’t care. The damn ball was harder than it looked. He was already sporting a growing bruise across his stomach from where he’d taken a shot to the gut.
Caelan and Eno were in meetings with the various village elders, using Brandt as a translator where necessary. Rayne was healing an endless line of sick and injured people in a makeshift hospital.
Normally, Drayce would play the role of the sneaky info gatherer. He would wander off, chat up random people, and slowly draw out bits of useful details that leaders and politicians didn’t know or didn’t want Caelan to know.
It was his gift. He was easy to talk to. After a drink and twenty minutes, most people spilled their entire life story to him.
Except this time.
He didn’t know the language. His Rosarian was nonexistent, and his New Rosanthe was limited to “Where’s the bathroom?” and “Can I have another beer?” Not super helpful right now.
Their first night in Hidden Falls had been relatively quiet. They’d slept on the floor in Brandt’s home after his wife had treated them to a hot, filling dinner. The food might have been simple, but it was the first time his stomach had felt full in too many days. The emptiness had reached a point where he’d started to contemplate shifting and doing a little hunting while in his dragon form, but that felt unfair to the others and he didn’t like the idea of being away from Caelan for too long.
When they woke, they’d immediately been greeted by the village elders wanting access to the new healing god and the leader of the strangers. Drayce had stuck around long enough to eat a dense pancake-type thing that had left him longing for syrup, and then he was out to wander about the village.
The people he’d passed along the way seemed wary but friendly. At most, they smiled as they gave him a bit of a wide berth. He’d strolled past the buildings and poked his head into the places that looked like shops. There was one woman who made fabric that could have doubled as Kevlar—nice armor when it came to surviving all the things that wanted to eat a person in the Ordas.
When he reached the edge of the village, he’d spotted some kids darting through a break in the trees and undergrowth. One had a leather ball tucked under her arm and had paused long enough to flash him a grin before running away. Since he couldn’t communicate with the adults, he’d figured he might as well see what the kids were doing.
From what he could guess, it was the bastard child of soccer and rugby. The ball could be kicked, bounced, and hit, but they couldn’t pick it up. There was also tackling and physical roughhousing. Knees were scraped, noses were bloodied, and he was pretty sure that one child lost a tooth, but play didn’t stop. These were tough kids.
As far as he could tell, there was no trash-talking. Of course, he couldn’t understand the language, but everything was said with a smile and a laugh. When a good play was made, both teams cheered for the player.
After watching them play for a while, the kids had invited him to join in. The field was large and relatively flat with a net set in the center of each of the four sides of the rectangular opening. He guessed the ages of the kids ranged from about seven to fifteen, and he was seriously getting his ass handed to him. These squirrely little creatures ran and jumped like they were a mix of cat and monkey. There was no catching them.
But they were having a blast weaving around him.
Drenched in sweat after less than half an hour of play, Drayce stood clutching the stitch in his side and panting heavily while trying to figure out how to tell them that he was too freaking old and slow to play their game. Maybe if he played against adults he’d have a shot, but then he’d probably have broken bones as a result.