He continued to hold on to the dragon pearl, squeezing the smooth surface. All he needed to do was push out power from it, but how could he do so in a way that wouldn’t draw attention to what he had done?
The snow.
He focused on the snow beneath Reltash’s feet. If he could send a little power through that, maybe unsettle him, trigger a small avalanche, then he could recover his bow. Reltash might end up sliding down the side of the mountain, but if he were careful, he could prevent him from gliding too far.
Only, Jason didn’t know that he had enough control to be able to do so effectively. Which meant that he had to be extra cautious.
Triggering an avalanche wasn’t going to be the right strategy. It was a surefire way of having others realize what he was doing.
Reltash swung the bow and Jason lunged.
When he did, he grabbed the bow, twisted, and yanked. He pushed a hint of the dragon pearl power through his hand as he slammed his fist into Reltash’s chest.
Reltash went flying backward and Jason kept one hand squeezing the bow.
It cracked.
The sound of it snapping echoed, filling his ears, and he went sliding down the side of the mountain, twisting backward.
Reltash sat up on the slope, anger on his face gradually twisting over to something else. The bow hung uselessly in Jason’s hand, one end twisted and cracked.
Marl helped Reltash to his feet, and Reltash stared at Jason, grinning widely.
“I guess now you have to return to the village.”
They turned away, Reltash laughing. Angus’s gaze lingered on Jason for a moment, and he shook his head.
They disappeared beyond the ridgeline but Jason sat where he was, unmoving.
And here he thought his sister was the one who was beginning to feel hopeless.
His own sense of despair built. Without the bow, there would be no way to effectively hunt. He could return to the village, check to see if there was anyone who might have one he could trade for, but anything he might come across would be not nearly as high quality as what he had.
His father had taken great care of the bow. It was lovingly maintained, the wood frequently oiled, and because of it, Jason had incredible accuracy with it.
No longer.
The bow is your greatest weapon against hunger.
He lost track of how long he sat there, staring at the broken bow. After a while, he got to his feet and started up the slope of the mountain. There was no purpose in staying any longer than he had. From here, he needed to return, to see if he couldn’t figure out something else, and perhaps find someone who might pity him.
It was possible his mother had come back around, too. If so, maybe the promise of her healing would inspire others to make trades, though he wasn’t terribly optimistic that would happen. It was more likely that she was still unconscious, or sleeping, or anything else.
As he trudged up the side of the mountain, his sense of hope faded. Wind whistled around him, snow trapped within it tearing at his exposed cheeks. He ignored it. He still had the dragon pearl in one hand, and he squeezed on it, the hopelessness rolling through him, through the dragon pearl, and away from him.
Maybe that was a mistake, but then again, all of this was a mistake. He should’ve ignored Reltash, knowing that their distance from the village would be an invitation for the other man to taunt him. At the same time, he hadn’t really expected Reltash to damage his bow.
The stream’s burbling drew his attention and Jason paused, taking a drink from it. The water was cold, though not nearly as blindingly cold as it had been before. Maybe that was only because he’d been holding on to the dragon pearl while climbing, but it didn’t burn his throat as he drank.
After a while, he looked up the mountainside, debating returning home. There was still quite a bit of the day left, and even if he did return, he would have to face his sister, admit what happened, and then go hunting for a replacement.
He wasn’t in the mood for it.
Instead he wandered along the stream before reaching the entrance to the cave inside. Pausing there for a moment, he listened but didn’t hear any sign of the dragon on the other side. Creeping along the narrow ledge, he pressed his back along the wall of the cave and crawled inside. Once inside, he dropped down to the ground, leaving the bow there.
There was no sign of the dragon, though Jason hadn’t expected him to be here. The dragon was probably out hunting—and likely much more successfully than Jason had been.
He stared down at the bow. The wood had splintered, separating it into two irregular pieces. Would there be any way to use the dragon pearl that might restore it?
That involved knowing more about the power he could draw through the dragon pearl, but hadn’t he attempted to heal his mother the night before? What was this but another attempt at healing?
Slipping the string off one end, he aligned the bow and held the dragon pearl up against the wood.
He focused on the warmth within him. It came slowly, as if the journey up the mountainside, filled with despair, had drained him of all warmth, and he pushed that into the dragon pearl.
The energy he knew should be there didn’t respond.
What if there was another way?
Could he borrow the cold?
That was easier. It filled him, and he pulled on the cold all around him, the chill that washed over him, the sense of it in the air, even the cold that he knew flowed through the stream. As he did, he pushed that into the dragon pearl.
Strangely, that seemed to be much more effective.
As he pushed, he focused on the crack and tried to imagine the bow reformed.
In doing so, Jason didn’t expect to be successful. How could he be? The dragon pearl did possess magic, but from everything he’d seen, the kind of magic it contained wasn’t able to restore broken bows. Then again, Jason didn’t really know what the magic of the dragon pearl would be capable of doing. He didn’t have enough experience with it to know whether or not twisting it in such a way would do what he needed.
He held on to that cold, continuing to push it out from him, into the bow.
It flowed outward, a torrent of energy, in much the same way as the warmth had flowed out of him through the dragon pearl.
Ice began to form along the surface of the bow, and he wondered if perhaps that was all he was doing. If he manifested ice on the bow, it would crack if he tried to draw it, making it useless.
Still, he forced more and more power through the dragon pearl, summoning as much magic as he could and letting it drain into the bow.
A splashing drew his attention and he looked up. The dragon poked his head up out of the stream. Icy blue eyes locked with his.
“You called to me,” the dragon said.
“I did what?”
“You called to me.”
Jason looked down at the dragon pearl. “I didn’t mean to. I was just…” How could he explain what he had done? The dragon might not understand. He didn’t even understand.
“I’m just trying to repair my bow.”
The dragon looked down at the bow, and when he did, there came a surge of energy from him, though it was the kind of surge that Jason could only barely feel. He wasn’t entirely certain how much of it was real and how much of it was his imagination, and when it came to the dragon, he wasn’t sure he would even know. With the kind of power the dragon possessed, the energy that radiated from the creature, it was possible that what he was detecting was the dragon’s natural state and nothing more than that.