Chapter 49 – The Art of the Apology

"Ah, you're still on the 'kill the dragon' idea," responded Casey. "And that is supposed to stab him through to the heart? I think it's a bit short."

"Not to the heart. All it has to do is go about twenty-five centimeters straight into an indentation at the back of his head."

"How did you figure that out, and how are you going to approach him from the back of his head since his body's attached there?"

"One question at a time, alright? First, I found it in the story about the dragons."

"What story?"

"The one you were reading that time you cut your wrist. You know, before you fed Kapyn the first time."

"Oh, you mean the time you tricked me into believing I was going to go through the portal, but really I was just the distraction? Yes, I remember that well."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Maybe, if you apologized nicely."

His brow furrowed. "I thought I already did."

"When? When did you apologize?"

"Well, I didn't exactly say it, but I think it was pretty obvious what I meant."

She crossed her arms. "You so need practice in the art of the apology, but… whatever." She sighed. "I'm not going to fight. I'm too tired. I don't know about you, but I'm going to pass out from lack of sleep."

"Before you do, let me finish telling you my plan."

"Oh, yeah. Hurry, will you?" she yawned.

"It is simple to approach Kapyn from the back. All it requires is another entrance into the lair, and to attack while he's sleeping."

"Oh, that's so simple, Ivan! That's so simple, it's lunacy!" She stared at him with her droopy eyes, and would have laughed if his expression hadn't shown he wasn't joking. Instead, she searched his face to find a speck of sense staring back at her. "You know it won't work."

"It will work because it has to work. There is a better chance of that than trying to get around him when the portal is open."

"I agree with you that you won't get past him when the portal is open, but that doesn't make your plan more feasible. And, anyway, how can you be so sure what that story told you was true?"

"I'm beginning to think there is something to some of these stories." He pulled out a sheet from the pocket at his thigh and unfolded it. "This one told me about this place, and talks about a series of channels that leads to a water source in Kapyn's mountain. You know about that water, Casey! We've seen it."

Casey's glance was cursory, but something about the script was familiar. She took a better look. "Hey, that's-," She pulled the sheets from her pocket, selecting one from the front of the story which still had an abundance of words on it, and compared them. "It's the same writing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I pulled it out of that roll. I didn't want to carry the whole thing when all I needed was this."

"Ivan, this is Oliver's story!"

He sighed in forbearance, giving her a look of reproach. Slowly, his face cleared. "You're saying your dragonfly prince wrote this."

"Yes."

He pondered it, and began to nod. "Okay. It would make sense that he'd know to tell you about the passages from the cave to here, then."

"Yes, exactly! He's real, Ivan. I've talked to him for two nights now. Have you read it all?" she asked hopefully, speaking of Oliver's story.

"I've read it." Ivan's expression became guarded.

"I know that look," she told him. "What is it?"

"Well, you know how when people go through hard things, it can affect them?"

Casey looked at him skeptically. "Go on."

"I mean, they don't always see things clearly."

"What are you getting at?"

"Casey, he's the 'my gnosis' story."

The corners of her mouth dropped. "What?"

Ivan nodded. "I told you about the red stone. He was looking for that."

"Well, maybe he's not looking for it anymore."

"Maybe not… maybe not." He was trying to appease her now. The news had come as a shock. The little voice asking whether Oliver was crazy just couldn't be silenced.

"Oh, Ivan, he can't be crazy. He just can't. He acts too not crazy!"

"Those are the worst kind."

She gave him a wry look. "Like you know the types of crazy."

"Well, you know what they say: The ones who think they're going crazy are probably okay; it's the ones who think they're sane that-,"

"Oh, stop it. Let's – let's talk about something else. How are you going to find this back way into Kapyn's lair?"

"According to the description in that gnosis story, the water leads two places. This is the one where the 'debris' washes up. So, it has to be the second one." Ivan was grinning, which drew attention to the Zource streaks around his mouth and chin. "My itinerary now is to finish Glader, take a nap, and wait until dusk to follow that second channel."

"Why dusk?"

"Because I'm not going out there in broad daylight to be target practice for whoever's waiting outside."

"The Greads."

"What?"

"Oliver wrote about them, remember? The Greads are a clan from over the gorge. They have some kind of funny-looking mark over the eye. I think they're the reason Oliver told me to hide."

"Did you see them?"

"I saw one; he came looking for us."

"And he didn't find us? Wow. Good hiding, Casey."

"No, it was Oliver. He rescued us."

"Well, he's just a veritable superman, isn't he?"

Casey pursed her lips in annoyance. "He sent the dragonflies, dummy. One landed on my nose." She inhaled quickly, ready to tell him what she knew about the dragonflies' love of mind rhythms; then hesitated.

"What?" he asked, aware she had been planning to say more.

"Never mind. That's enough."

"So, the dragonfly prince sent the dragonflies, and we were saved."

"Basically."

"You forgot the part where you poured Zource down my throat because I was a goner." Casey looked at him. His tone was serious. He opened his mouth, and she could see he was trying out every word he wanted to say and rethinking it.

"I'm glad it worked."

"Me, too."

"And you're welcome. It's kinda nice being the one to save you for a change, but I didn't do it in place of an apology, like you."

"Your humility is awe-inspiring. So is your gratitude. If I recall correctly, you've found the instances where I've saved your life 'tiring'."

She looked down and sheepishly replied. "Yeah, that wasn't very nice of me. So, I'll say it first: Thank you, Ivan. Thank you for saving my life more than once. Now your turn." She said with a twinkle in her eye.

He shook his head at her cheeky attempt. "You know, in retrospect, maybe it wasn't much of a favor to either of us. But… thanks, Ethel."


A/N: Shall we end it here? Ivan and Casey are getting along… no life-threatening cliffhanger… Is it satisfying enough to leave it at that? *evil grin*

Backroads: The next two chapters will touch on Ivan's view of Casey's appearance more. He's always plotting the same idea, and for good reason. Almost a whole year trying to get around Kapyn might bring upon one some desperation to do something drastic. Plus, after his laborious task of piecing that weapon together, it would have to be put to good use somehow, you know? Thanks for sticking with this and reviewing steadily. It means a bunch to a scribbler like me!

Iliana11: (Prophecies) "They're always so cryptic, giving multiple outcomes." Yeah. Outside of fiction, it's a common practice to word a so-called prophecy to leave room for coincidence or the inevitable to confirm it. In the Bible, Moses wrote, "when a prophet speaks in the name of the LORD, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that the LORD has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously. You need not be afraid of him." - Deuteronomy 18:22. So, if a prophet gave one prophecy that didn't occur, he wouldn't be expected to keep much of a following in Old Testament times. Using this criterion, how many would that leave of those who claim to tell the future today? Your thoughts on my preference towards Oliver are provoking. I want to respond, but won't. You clever info-wheedler! :D

Lady Thorne: (Oliver's story) I tried to remove certain words, while still leaving enough to convey the idea. He surpassed other competitors in food-deprivation. This was during his rite of manhood, and he was the youngest participator. Since he doesn't actually know how old he is, I've had a hard time finding ways to express his age. I'm just going to tell you, he was around 14 when he gained manhood in his clan. (Ooo, extra info for you!)

Quiet Mindreader: Thanks for the geography questions! I need to rework the descriptions. The page Casey reads before she finds Oliver's story in the cave (chapter 40) has changed to reflect this vaguely: Furthermore, no connection is ever given between the dragons and the Iothun, allowing the account of the destruction of Mount Dreohan to be a figurative one rather than a realized, authentic event. For, it is improbable that a mountain ever existed which comprised the present day northern and southern pinnacles as the foundational frame of its great height; or, that a valley of such depth and circumference, cushioned between the two ranges, could have been fashioned out without razing the entire outer flanking of a mountain so massive. While Casey doesn't know it at the time, this is talking about Dreone (the valley) and the surrounding mountain ranges. Oliver told her about the southern peak in chapter 38. Drakkytbet is the northern mountain, which Oliver describes as "what remains of the great mountain." Drakkytbet is substantially larger in diameter than the mountain in the south, but it is, itself, hollowed out, rising far above Dreone. This is wordy, but does it help?