Gideon looked at Jet. “Put her in danger? We’re the ones in danger!”

“We almost died just now. We can’t afford to bring a Priestess along with us,” Jet argued.

“She’s not just a Priestess, she’s also a priestess. A healer! We can’t not afford to bring a priestess along with us. What about the next time one of us gets hurt? What then?” Gideon replied.

“Next time, you don’t gamble and cause trouble, and no one has to get hurt!” Jet replied, frustrated.

Thunder cracked outside. Rain began to patter on the roof of the church.

“I’ve gambled hundreds of times and gotten away without a single injury. If you didn’t have my tome, and those hillbillies weren’t so quick on the trigger— by the end, they were just trying to rob us!”

“Oh? So if you had your tome, what would you have done? Murder them all?”

“I only want to kill dragons! Have you been sleeping this whole time? Down there, when I grabbed my tome back, did I kill anyone? No! I threatened them off! I didn’t hurt anyone! It’s like you think I’m some kind of demon-monster-freak-killer or something. I’m an ordinary guy who wants to kill dragons, like a completely ordinary person should!”

The priestess cleared her throat.

Both Jet and Gideon fell silent and looked at her.

She smiled and drew herself to her full height. Although not tall, she stood even with Gideon. Straight brunette hair fell to her mid-back, drawn back from her temples into a simple wooden pin at the back of her head. She wore a simple dress, as Priestesses of the Pantheon tended to do, a pale-blue A-line ensemble no less patched than the farmers’ clothes. A cream-colored stole draped over her body, a single long piece of aged cloth that laid down the front and back of her dress with a hole for her head. The stole depicted the High God’s spiral pattern at its bottom in the proper dark blue, though the thread had faded. Similarly, it was impossible to tell whether the cloth’s original color was cream, or if it had yellowed over the years.

“My name is Elly. I’m a Priestess of the High God, as well as a priestess. Over these past years, I have served as the Priestess of this small town of Wallop. However, the High God has revealed a higher calling to me. I am to follow and serve you along your journey, or so she has declared.”

“Wonderful. Does that make us… saints, of some sort?” Gideon asked, greed shining in his eyes.

Elly smiled at him, and said nothing.

Jet smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Elly, I’m very grateful for your help, but I’m afraid you don’t understand the true nature of our journey. Gideon and I—”

“Are travelling to vanquish the True Dragon,” Elly said, smiling.

Jet paused mid-sentence. He looked at Elly, then nodded. “Right. But Gideon… isn’t an ordinary person. He’s—”

“The most powerful lightning mage known to man,” Elly replied.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Most powerful? Really?” Gideon’s eyes shone again.

Jet frowned at Elly. “Stop giving him ideas.”

“I’m only repeating what the High God told me in my dreams,” Elly said evenly.

Oh, great, another madman, Jet thought. He took a deep breath, forcing himself not to lose his temper. She just healed me, and she doesn’t mean anything wrong. I’m worked up because of—what we just went through, but it’s not her fault. I can’t take it out on her. “Elly, this man… massacred an entire town—”

“Is accused of massac—ow!” Gideon jolted.

Jet dropped his hand from the pendant. “Can everyone please stop interrupting me?”

Gideon shrugged. Elly nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“This man massacred—”

“Is accused of—”

Jet fell silent. He narrowed his eyes at Gideon.

Gideon smiled back, innocently.

Jet opened his mouth. Gideon leaned forward in anticipation.

“I know what he has been accused of,” Elly said, before the two could continue their petty battle. “And I am still willing to follow you.”

“Then… it’s settled,” Gideon said, looking at Jet.

Jet sighed. “Elly. I can’t guarantee your safety. I—”

“I am a healer, you know. It’s kind of my job, right? Guaranteeing safety. Health, at least.” Elly smiled, smoothing her skirts.

Exhausted, Jet shook his head. “I just… I don’t think this is a…”

Behind them, the doors jumped in their hinges. A heavy, wooden thump rang out, interrupting the low pounding of the rain on the roof. All three jumped. Gideon brandished his tome from under his robes, while Jet reached for his sword. Elly stepped in front of both of them, her hand out. “Eric was hurt, yes? They’ve probably come with him. Back up. I’ll settle this.”

Jet and Gideon exchanged a glance. They backed up, wary.

Elly pushed the doors open with a smile. “Come for healing?”

Tom stood in the doorway, panting. He stepped inside, out of the rain, glaring at Jet and Gideon the whole time, then shook his head and pointed out, into the fields. “The boy’s gone mad. He’s hurt, but he’s run off into the woods! I tried to stop him, but my legs aren’t what they used to be. I couldn’t catch him.”

“Into the woods? But he knows it’s dangerous. He lost three ewes just this week. And the storm,” Elly said, frowning.

Jet glanced at Gideon. Gideon shrugged and muttered, “I only made a spell to call storms. I never thought to un-call it.”

Tom scowled. “I don’t know what’s possessed the boy. Can you find him, Elly? Can the High God help us?”

Elly frowned. “The High God does not move at my beck and call. But… I can try.” She closed her eyes and clenched her staff tight. The staff began to glow white, and her eyes and palms glowed in sync. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“If my boy dies because of you, I swear,” Tom growled, glaring at Gideon.

Gideon shrugged, palms out. “Hey, it’s his fault, now. I didn’t make him run out into the stor—”

Jet slapped his hand over Gideon’s mouth and gave Tom a small smile. Leaning in, he hissed, “Shut up. Now is not the time.”

Gideon wrested free of his hand. “Now is always the time.”

Time passed. Minutes crawled by, building slowly into hours. Tom glared in silence rather than continue to fight an unwinnable battle. Jet stood beside him, arms crossed. Gideon sprawled in one of the pews and began to read, a bored expression on his face. Jet glanced over once or twice, then shrugged. He did say he’s a religious man sometimes. Maybe ‘boredom’ is a time that religion suits his needs.

Elly trembled, her eyelids flickering. Jet stepped forward, concerned. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. Light beamed from them, reflecting against the walls of the church.

“I’ve found him,” she declared.

“Where is he?” Tom demanded, stepping forward.

Elly lifted her finger.

--

Eric ran through the forest. Shepherd’s crook clutched under his arm, he ran, careless of where he was going. Rain poured on his head, soaking through his clothes. Brambles broke against his legs. Thin branches shattered against his chest. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood seeping down his chest, he ran on. His breath came in short pants, full of anger with no outlet, anger he could no longer suppress.

He let out a scream and punched a passing tree, but still his heart felt stifled. He ran on, charging into the woods. As he ran, he mumbled to himself, “Dammit, Mom… ever since you died, it’s all gone to shit. Dad doesn’t respect you. The ewes are dying. Even those damn outsiders shit on me. I’m nothing. No one respects me. I’m just a laughingstock, a joke. I can’t even protect the herd. How am I supposed to get anyone to respect me?”

In the near distance, branches cracked. Eric drew to a halt. He looked up, a manic grin on his face, narrowing his eyes against the darkness. “Hey! You! Whatever you are. Nasty sheep-eating monster. Come get me! I’ve got some tasty outsiders for you to eat!”

Something large shifted. A heavy footstep moved his way. Dimly, in the darkness, he caught the sight of a pair of luminous eyes.

Laughing loudly, Eric thumped his crook on the ground. “Come get me! Come on, this way!”

The thing took another step, then let out a snort. Its head drooped once more.

Eric scowled. He reached to his chest and slapped his hand on his wound, breaking open the scabs. Dragging his hand over the nearby trees, he backed away. “Come on. Tasty blood. Blood means fresh meat. Eating up all my ewes… Come on. You want it. Come get it!”

The thing shifted again. Its eyes opened, staring at Eric.

Eric laughed again. “Come on! Let’s go! Into town. I’ve got tasty meat for you!”

Another pair of eyes snapped open in the darkness. Then another, and another.

Eric stumbled back, eyes wide. “H…how many?”

A sudden lunge of motion. Eric turned and fled, crashing through the trees back the way he’d came. Behind him, the shapeless things chased after him, bounding from tree to tree, close at his heels. He laughed and laughed, eyes wild.

“Look at me now, Mom! Even Dad will have to respect me. I’ve solved my own problem. I’ve figured out how to pay those damn outsiders back! No one can look down on me anymore!”

--

Back in the church, Elly pointed. Her eyes still glowed with light, shooting white beams into the distance.

Everyone turned. The church’s doors sat there, firmly closed.

“He’s a door!” Gideon gasped.

Tom cracked his knuckles, giving Gideon a warning glare.

Ignoring him, Jet pushed the doors open.

From atop the hill, the church overlooked the entire town of Wallop. Everything laid out before them, from the tavern, to the houses, to the fields, stretching on and on, and the forests beyond them. Elly’s finger pointed down in the middle of the fields, not that she needed to.

Jet breathed in a short breath, eyes wide. Gideon put away his book and sat up, suddenly interested.

Tom frowned and crossed his arms, squinting down. “What the devil has that daft boy gotten himself involved in now?”

Eric hobbled through the fields, occasionally turning back to beat at his chasers with his crook. Four wild wyverns hopped after him, leaping into the air for a few moments to spit fire his direction. Lightning split the sky, lighting their dull-green and splattered-black scales. Each about as tall as a pony at the shoulders, long necks and aerodynamic, triangular heads darted out at Eric as he ran. They bounded after Eric on their hind legs, their front wings flapping occasionally when they over-balanced. Two-legged creatures with powerful hind claws and large front wings suited for flying, they made ungainly beasts on the ground, yet still moved with startling strength and speed. One paused for a moment, hauling back its head to hawk a ball of acid. Eric dodged, but the acid still splattered across his trousers. He ran on, favoring his other leg.

“Dear God Most High,” Tom muttered. “What the hell has my idiot son stirred up?”