Fool’s Quest

I wondered why I was doing this. It was not part of my plan. But neither was Per or Lant. I reached for Nettle to let her know what I was doing and found only a roaring current of Skill full of strange voices. I pulled hastily away from it. I hiked on.

The trail was more overgrown than I remembered it. Trees and bushes had begun to encroach on the edges of the ancient Skill-road. Perhaps not even Elderling magic could hold out forever. Windblown dead needles and small branches littered the smooth snow. I relaxed into the cold, accepting it, and felt my muscles loosen as my body generated its own heat. I moved swiftly but quietly, looking for movement. If I had the chance, I’d kill something for us to eat, but as Per had guessed, meat was not my primary goal.

The last time I’d walked this way, the foliage had been dense and green. Snow mounded on the moss that draped the tree branches now. I passed a tree where a bear had sharpened his claws. The tracks were old, softened with snow. Birds flitted through the trees. A deer trail crossed my path, but nothing moved on it right now. In a small clearing I came across a tangle of wild roses still heavy with frozen red hips. The birds feeding on them cursed me as I stole from the edges of the prickly tangle. I filled my kerchief and tied it shut. If nothing else, they would flavor porridge or tea for us. I picked a final handful to chew as I walked.

The forest grew denser and darker. I hurried. Although the year had turned her steps toward spring, the days were still short. My feet got cold and I pulled my hood tighter around my ears. I ran then, plowing through the snow across the path, pounding my feet until they warmed with the exercise. I ran carelessly, spooking a fat bird that might have made a good meal, if I’d had the means to kill it. After that I walked, and ran, and walked again. I ate snow to keep my mouth wet, but avoided chilling my body with too much of it. Onward. I watched the winter sun pass over my head and shadows start to grow long. This was foolishness. Why had I yielded to the impulse? I was as stupid as Lant and Per put together. Then, as evening leached all colors from the day, I came to the first buried hulk beside the snow pathway.

It had been years but some things a man does not forget. I moved from stone dragon to stone dragon. Here was the one shaped like a wild boar. Here was one with the shape of a dragon. The blue-winged buck’s antlers were edged with snow. They still filled me with awe, each and every one of them.

Years ago, with blood and magic, Nighteyes and I had roused these sleeping shapes and sent them winging to Verity’s aid. Verity. My king. He and the old Skill-user Kettle had poured all their memories and even their lives into a magnificent dragon, shaped from Skill-stone, from the same stuff that made up the pillars. And as a dragon, Verity had risen and carried both Kettricken and Starling back to Buckkeep, so that his queen might bear his son and continue his lineage. The dragon he had made at such a cost led the battle against the Red-Ship Raiders and the Outislanders.

And when all had been vanquished and peace returned to our shores, Verity-as-Dragon had returned here, to slumber with the others in the deep shade beneath the looming trees.

I found him. I brushed the snow from him, clearing it from the magnificent wings now folded close to his side. I swept his head clean of snow, wiping it away from his closed eyes. Then I pulled off my snowy gloves and set my bare hands to his cold and stony brow. I reached, not with the Skill but with the Wit, and I sought for the king I had served and then lost. I felt the dim flicker of some sort of lingering life in the stone. And when I did, I poured into my touch all the Skill and the Wit I could muster. I opened my heart and confided all to the cold stone dragon. It was not pouring memories into stone as Verity had done to wake his creation. This was a simple reaching to my uncle, to my king, an outpouring of all that had befallen me and all I hoped to do. All my anguish I shared with him, the loss of my wife and child, the Fool’s torment, Chade’s fading, all of it.

And when I was emptied far beyond tears or hopes of vengeance, I stood still and empty in the cold beside the frozen dragon. A foolish quest. I was here for the night now, with no tent, no fire. I pushed snow aside to bare years of fallen leaves. I sat down between his outstretched front legs and leaned back against his head, slumped on his paws in slumber. I drew my legs in close to me and pulled my hood well forward. I curled up against my king and hoped the cold would not deepen too much tonight. The Skill-stone he was carved from was cold against my back. Was Verity cold, somewhere? Or did he and Kettle play at Stones in some other world, beyond my reach? I closed my eyes and longed to join them.

Oh, Fitz. You feel so much.