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The wind rippling over his scales sent a shiver down Ansur’s spine as he stood at the bow of the ship that carried him ever closer to Yal-Tengri.
“Cold?” the man beside him asked. He held out the side of his heavy cloak, offering to share his warmth with the dragon.
“I thank you, dear Balduran, but it is not the cold that chills me.”
“Are you quite sure? Were it not for your scales, I do believe I would spy gooseflesh upon your skin,” Balduran said with a smile in his voice and mischief in his eyes.
Ansur shook his head at his companion.
“It is thoughts of the journey ahead that set my heart athrill.” He gestured at the waves that broke against the hull of the ship, the endless expanse of clear blue sky above, and the distant horizon. “We are once more set off in search of things long forgotten by most and hidden in times long past. Doubtless, we have a long and treacherous voyage ahead, fraught with peril, new and innumerable dangers lurking ‘round every bend.”
“You do not sound at all concerned by the jeopardy you describe,” Balduran remarked.
“There is no cause for me to worry,” the dragon chuffed. “Rather, I stand fast with anticipation in the face of this most delicious uncertainty.”
“You welcome uncertainty?”
“Do you not?” Ansur threw out his chest and inhaled a breath of bracing salt air, flashes of lightning sparking about his nostrils. “Some may see this foray into the uncharted as naught but the harbinger of troubles. And troubles there may be, but with every trouble conquered comes the sweet taste of victory, and it is a taste I intend to savor. I will sup upon the bitter herb of adversity, and when it is devoured and destroyed, the wine of triumph will be all the sweeter. I need only the sword in my hand and the storm in my breath.”
Balduran laughed. He had a delightful laugh, like that of a child, full of wonder and impishness.
“And what of this one who walks beside you?” he inquired. “Have you no need of him?”
Ansur indulged his foolishness, as he always did. As he always would.
“I shall not say that I have need of you, as if you are ought but another of my possessions,” he said. He reached out a large, taloned hand, closing it around the shoulder of his best beloved. “But I desire to hear your steps fall in time with mine above all else. For if my sword should fall from my grasp or my breath falter, I may rest easy knowing that Balduran stands at my back.”
The human blinked up at him before abruptly clearing his throat and looking away.
“Well, perhaps we should have a bit of sparring later, if you have begun to think there is any that could disarm the mighty Ansur!” He nudged Ansur’s side in a playful manner. “Perhaps you grow soft in your old age?”
The dragon laughed. “You seek to goad me, I see. Very well, we shall cross blades after the evening meal. I am sure the captain will not oppose the use of the deck.”
“Ask him in the hearing of the crew. Even if he should dislike the notion himself, he will allow it for their sake,” Balduran said confidently. “They will become excited to witness the spectacle, and he will not wish to be subjected to their disappointment should he decline.”
Ansur nodded. He left these sorts of things to Balduran. It was not in his nature to arrange his words and actions in clever patterns to play on the emotions of others. He was ever straightforward, and blunt as the blow of a hammer. Balduran, however, was silver tongued and intuitive of the baser desires of mortals, and his counsel on such matters was always reliable.
Ansur looked back out over the whitecaps and dark blue depths.
“The Great Spire is said to be visible from many leagues away,” he murmured. “Glittering in the sun by day, crystalline and cold in the moonlight.”
“The watch has been informed,” Balrudan assured him. “They will alert us the moment they spy the smallest flash of light on the horizon.”
“Indeed. I am sure they shall,” Ansur replied, “but a part of me wishes to be the first to spot the glorious sight.”
Balduran hummed in understanding.
“Then I shall ask the captain to inform us when we reach the edge of Yal-Tengir, so that we may search the horizon together.”
They fell silent for a moment, with only the call of seabirds and the rush of the water below to fill the air. Ansur treasured these moments in every adventure they embarked upon. The quiet before the storm, as it were, when the promise of the trials and triumphs to come echoed in every beat of the heart, and each breath was taken in with reverence. He could feel the crackling of the lightning in his chest, as if it, too, anticipated the days ahead.
The sun hung low, slowly beginning its descent towards the edge of the world, casting color through the clouds and brilliant, glittering rays across the sea. The sturdy wooden planks of the ship creaked beneath Ansur’s boots, the sway of the boat like a cradle rocked by a nursemaid.
“I am glad to have you at my side, my friend,” Balduran said, so softly Ansur thought perhaps he was not meant to have heard it.
But he had.
And, ever straightforward, he replied.
“Where else could I be? Come what may, there is naught in this world that should tempt me away.”
“Come now. Nothing at all?”
“Nothing.”
“Surely there must be something.”
Ansur shook his head and repeated firmly, “Nothing.”
Perhaps Balduran did not understand, but Ansur had all he needed.
Adventure on the horizon.
The sword in his hand.
A storm in his heart.
And Balduran at his side.
All was right in his world.