Trial by Flame

Chapter 49

 The dunes were the most challenging terrain so far, every step a trip hazard as they sunk, slid, and stumbled their way through. Avalon was the most balanced by far, but she still fell more than once, and even Trelisti wasn't endurant enough to get through without a break. Each hill felt like a mountain, weighed down by their bags while the sand sucked them in. Tellik tried to mitigate it by walking the flat spots where possible, but those turned out to be scarce, and climbing a few steep dunes was unavoidable to stay on course.

They'd just had a particularly far fall when Tellik's patience ran out, declaring a break at the bottom of the dune. It was about halfway through the night, and with sand crusting everyone's hair, skin, and clothes, the annoyance was shared.

"If I somehow survive all this," Trelisti scorned, ruffling what he could out of his hair. "I'm never stepping foot in the desert again."

Avalon's returning glance was lighthearted, just a bit of concern underneath. "Are you expecting not to survive?"

"I'd be surprised if I did," he replied with a shrug. He didn't think about it much beyond that—low expectations were easier to pass.

"That's..." she hesitated. He could see the question on her face, deliberating if he was joking or not. After a moment, she seemed to understand he wasn't. "Just how dangerous is this journey?"

"The part you're doing shouldn't be," Trelisti answered, matched with a nod from Tellik to reassure her. "We're splitting up after the trial. He'll take you home, and I'll be heading to Fehr-Abas. I've got business there."

"What?" Her response was almost a shout. "Are you some kind of fool? You—you'll..."

"Die?" Trelisti offered. Dark as it was, he found her surprise amusing, replying with a semi-sarcastic smirk. "Aw, don't tell me you care."

"You stupid—" she started, but the words drowned in a growing blush. "Wouldn't you care if you were in my situation?"

"I've never been great at sympathizing," he replied, crossing his arms. He pointed to the bloody mask. "It's part of the job."

She started to form a response, then paused when his words really rang. For a moment, he saw the face—that same face as the night he'd killed her attackers, the horror hidden faintly beneath a suspended gaze—before her lids lowered over her eyes. She tucked a loose fist into her chest.

"For all that we've spoken," she said, a tone soft and earnest. There might have been a little disapproval in it too, however hushed. "You haven't told me much about what you're doing. Or why you're doing it."

Trelisti wasn't sure why it phased him—she didn't say anything overtly, but the implication was enough to make him still. The idea that she might've feared him, or that she thought his actions were misguided. Of everyone to seem immoral to, of anyone to view him as a monster, the tiniest shred of his being didn't want it to be her. And that was the thought that scared him.

Since when did he give a shit how others perceived him? Much less someone he barely knew, an asset to the mission and no more?

"That," he deflected, answering with little more than a glance. "Is better if you don't know."

Her disappointment was obvious, with crossed arms and piercing eyes. "How am I supposed to trust you if you won't tell me?"

"You trusted me enough to come this far, didn't you?" Trelisti asked, stretching his arms against his head.

"I..." Avalon started, then sighed. He could see her building frustration, but it wasn't enough to tear down his walls. "You're a piece of work, you know?"