Born in the Flame

Chapter Eight

    "No, we can't stop here." Birch insisted. His jade green eyes narrowed on me, brows furrowed in frustration.

    "If you don't stop here for the night, I will be jumping off at the nearest inn." I replied, giving him an equally frustrated look over my shoulder.

    For the past hakf hour we had been going back and forth about stopping in the village we were about to pass through. The road we currently rode on was located on the side of a cliff face, over looking the small wood and stone houses of said village. To be frank, I really was going to jump off this drake if he kept saying no. I was tired from not getting any sleep the night before and had become very irritable.

    "If we stay, the more likely I'll be spotted."

    "Then stay in the room. I need a good nights rest." I paused, turning my head back toward the village below us as we turned another curve. "Neither of us slept. Besides, the village is small. If anything, I can vouch for you if you're discovered."

    It was true, once I got my ink, I became respected amongst the locals of Forge City. Being a fire mage with the full ink wraps was a sort of symbol of status.

    "Fine." He breathed. Finally. It was about time he caved in. After all, it had taken us a gods damned hour arguing about it.

    He remained silent as we continued onto the village below the twisting road leading up to it. While he stewed, I observed the buildings and checked for any sign of trouble. It wasn't until I heard children's laughter did I stop searching for signs of danger. There were a few small shops, an inn and a tavern. Beyond that, there wasn't much. I could smell the scent of earth magic from behind me as we got closer to the buildings. I didn't have to turn around to know that Birch was back to looking like a strangely beautiful, tall human.

    The majority of signs in the village were in the modern dwarven language. Though everyone on the continent spoke the common tongue, dwarves still preferred to use dwarven. Fire mages were more unique in the regard that we could read and speak ancient dwarven, due to the fact the runes were the ancient language. The dawn elf behind me, though, didn't speak a lick of dwarven. As I turned to face him, I could see his face scrunch in frustration as he tried to decipher the words of the sign at the entrance of the village.

    "It says Steel Lake." I mentioned. "Don't worry, they'll have pictures on the signs so you'll know what they sell."

    Instead of a verbal response, Birch let out a frustrated exhale. I chuckled to myself. It was funny to think he may be frustrated that I knew something he didn't. Of course, that's no fault of his own, but the bastard did try to make me sleep outside again.

    Aingidh's feet, I could hear, were slightly dragging by the time we reached the inn. Like I had told Birch, there was the dwarven word for inn and underneath was a small etching of a bed.

    "I'll get us some rooms." I told him, jumping of the drake's back before he could put up another argument. I'm sure it would be frustrating constantly having to bicker with someone about being able to do anything. In reality, our "arguments" are very one-sided. I tell him what I want, then he gives me an 'are-you-being-serious-or-are-you-dumb' look and tells me no. Rinse and repeat. This time, I just skipped that whole interaction by walking into the inn before we could run that routine.

    When I stepped inside the inn, I was surprised by how warm and cozy it was. As if they were already preparing for the night's chill air, a wood stove sat in the corner with a fire blazing brightly. Small electric lamps sat on tea tables accompanied by green floral chairs sat near it. For being such a small village, the inn was really nice.