Only Heroes Get Names

Aliana finally raised her head, for her only audience at that moment was the trees. She closed her eyes and tilted her face into a sunbeam, allowing her hair to fall away from the black eye. At least it wasn’t both eyes again. That would be harder to hide, from sight and questions alike.

“I’m going to tell you my secret today,” she told the tree as she sat down on a gnarled root. Aliana marveled at its flat, fan-like canopy, as she always did on these visits. It seemed more like one textured fabric than it did a million leaves. It instilled in her the sense that she wasn’t the only one harboring secrets, that this place had always been meant for secrets to be kept, like a garden that nurtured your brokenness in return for your trust.

“I still love him,” she confessed. She let the tears go. All she could ever do was hold them in. She learned the hard way that when she cried in front of him, she was crying gasoline onto his fire. The leaves rustled in their strange, united way, as though each one connected to the next.

“I don’t know if it’s love, fear, loathing. It’s a cage, and my emotion takes on whatever scrap he feeds me that day. He says he’s sorry in a way that makes me feel sorry for him.” Aliana shook her head and placed a hand on the tree trunk. A quiver rolled under her palm. Her hands must have been shaking worse than she realized.

“I have fantasies of him dying.” Aliana hung her head. “It makes me wonder if I’m the monster, if I deserve to be in that cage. But I could never…” The sunbeams slowly moved down her arms. She snapped out of her head and looked up at the sinking sun. “I have to get back.” Aliana jumped to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, and rushed off.

She raced barefoot over rocks and roots. It used to hurt, but after sneaking away so many times, it built up a resistance just like any other part of her. He thought that would keep her in the house, taking her shoes. He’d have to take away a lot more than shoes, but she didn’t want him to know that.

When their village came back into sight, Aliana slowed to a swift gait and combed her bangs down. She had mastered the art of walking quickly enough to get back to him without walking so quickly that it put wind in her hair. Her eyes darted around the busy street. She didn’t notice the smiles she got or the concerned gestures. She noticed whether she would run into him now or at home. She knew she wasn’t fooling everyone, but she didn’t care about everyone. Just him.

She glanced around outside their front door before hiking up her skirt and stepping into the bucket of rain water to wash her feet. Rainy days were her favorite, because rainy days meant a visit to Fayn Forest. He never questioned the pail sitting outside or the water she let sit in it. She always snuck off the day after the rain, so as not to get her dress or anything else wet. He would question that.

Aliana stepped carefully from bucket to mat, mindful not to drip in between. She slipped through the door and onto the rug just inside. Grabbing the cloth she had set out, she dried her feet and blotted at the rug. They kept their hamper in the bedroom, a straight shot from the front door that she nailed first try with the cloth. Stew bubbled over the fireplace. She filled his bowl—he liked it room temperature when he got home—and straightened herself up in the mirror. The front door opened. Aliana put on a static smile.

“Welcome home,” she said. She ran her eyes over his place setting to make sure she hadn’t forgotten something. He looked over it as well and sat down. Aliana relaxed her shoulders. He crouched over the table to eat, but he stopped. She realized then his stew hadn’t cooled.

“Sorry, I’ll—” she said, reaching for his bowl.

“What the hell,” he said, pointing at the rug. Aliana timidly craned to see. Her chest pounded into her ears though she couldn’t spot the error. The water had been wiped up, the mat straightened, the floorboards dry. “The rag that was sitting out before, what’d you do with it?” he asked. Aliana blanked. She usually gave herself more of a cushion between her arrival time and his. She had stayed too long at the tree, had gotten too caught up in her thoughts to mind such details. Although, he never before questioned as menial a thing as a rag. Was he on to her?

“I had to wash my feet,” she explained.

“Why’s that,” he asked, rising from his chair.

“I stepped in some soot and didn’t want to make a mess.” Aliana cowered into a corner.

“I think you left the house again. Didn’t my message stick with you the last time?”

“Please!” she screamed as he raised his hand.

“I told you never to yell.” She saw his hand close into a fist and swing. The strike split her lip, staggering her into the corner. Aliana slid her back down the wall and cradled her mouth. A knock rent the silence. The man’s eyes widened. He pointed for Aliana to go into the bedroom. She sluggishly got to her feet, but the door opened before she could get out of sight. Hollard, the local smith, stood in the doorway, eclipsing the outside view.

“What’s the yelling about?” Hollard asked. Aliana frantically brushed her bangs into her face.

“This klutzy woman of mine. Don’t know what to do with her,” the man defended. He leaned in to put his arm around Aliana, but she dipped away from him.

“You’ve done plenty, it seems. I looked at my wife crazy when she told me to follow you home, but she has a good nose for shit in velvet bags. Aliana, come over here to me,” said Hollard. She glanced between them, frozen. “It’s okay,” Hollard coaxed. Aliana walked clear around the hands she knew would snatch her from safety, following the widest path furniture would allow, and went over to Hollard.

She glanced over at the thing she said she loved. He stood there, red-faced and huffing, his shoulders squared on her, barely able to contain his tantrum. She saw him then as a virus made flesh, a miserable, parasitic waste that had to feed on all that was good in someone else in order to have a small idea of what happiness truly felt like. He stood there, haggard and sullen and guilty. Hollard put his arm around her, turning her away from the man’s glare. She only registered the pounding footsteps when they were right behind her.

The man tackled Aliana into Hollard’s arms, pinned between her attacker and her savior. Hollard hugged her to his chest and swiveled out of the doorway, kicking at the man’s outreached hands. Hollard managed set her down in the street before coming under the next attack. Aliana watched paralyzed.

“Go!” Hollard yelled at Aliana. In the distraction, her monster connected a blow to Hollard’s jaw. Aliana met the enraged gaze of the beast. Pity swelled up her heavy heart. Hollard returned the blow, breaking the spell Aliana had started falling under once again.

She bolted down the street, hair streaming behind her, face out and bawling carelessly. She dodged the hands reaching out to help. She ignored the queries and the faces and the rumors flying. The sun had finally set, but she knew the way. Aliana scrambled gracelessly through the forest. She stopped suddenly, rapt by a faint blue light cutting the darkness up ahead, and she went to it. It led her to the tree she sought, the one that knew her secret.

A large, radiant flower had bloomed where she had last sat upon the root. She stooped down for a closer look. It had one petal wrapped tight around a long stamen. It reminded her of a calla lily painting she had once seen. Aliana thought she saw the petal stir, but she hadn’t felt the breeze that would explain it. The stamen twitched, and all at once, the petal opened into two small wings. A tiny dragon’s face unfurled from the center as the stamen swung out and wagged—a tail!

Branches snapped behind her. Something tramped through the brush. A silhouette formed on the edge of the dragon’s light. Aliana squinted. As the form came closer, her eyes welled up. It wasn’t Hollard.

“What…” he said, clutching his ribs and staring at the dragon.

“Hollard…” Aliana said.

“That hero didn’t get it as bad as you will. He’ll live through my beating.” The man limped closer. Aliana ran behind the tree trunk. The dragon flew up and screeched at the man. “You have an overgrown butterfly protecting you now?” he taunted. The dragon chittered, and in that moment, the ground pulsated. Aliana felt a deep churning of the earth. Four massive roots pulled free from the soil. The canopy split in two. A long neck unearthed, and two golden eyes opened, making dusk of the night with their brilliance. Aliana gaped. She placed a hand on the dragon’s bark-like tail and smiled.

Without warning, the smaller dragon swarmed the man’s face, clawing into his left eye and bottom lip. Blood sprayed off its sweeping claws. The man screamed and swung at the dragon. Aliana saw its blue glow flicker as one of the hits connected, and another, until its tiny body fell limp to chewed-up dirt.

The tree dragon shrieked, bringing the man to his knees. Aliana ran over to the light, heedless of the man feet away. She cupped the dragon to her ear. Raspy breaths were better than none. She gently placed it on top of a nearby rock and, before she could register what to do next, she had the man’s throat in her hand. Blood trickled down her fingers from the ruts carved into his face. The veins popped in his forehead, the ones that always said he was pissed and about to do something about it. He started to stand, but a sound from the tree dragon stopped him. Aliana squeezed.

“I wasn’t okay with your abuse being centered on me, but I am especially not okay with it taking anyone else down. Whatever way it needs to happen, this ends now,” she said.

“At last you grow a spine, or at least borrow one from something bigger than me,” he said.

“Sometimes you need help waking up from a nightmare. Big scary dragon or not, I would have wound up with your throat in my hand over one thing or another, because either way I played this, it would come down to kill or be killed.”

The man spit in Aliana’s face and yanked her to the ground. He bared his weight on her, pinned her wrists down. As the dragon surged forward to help, Aliana bent her knee up into the man’s ribs. The dragon paused. Howling in pain, he let go of her hands to nurse his side. Aliana punched his windpipe as hard as she could. The man flew backwards onto the ground, seizing his throat. The dragon shot Aliana a questioning look. Smirking, she gave a nod.

The dragon snatched the man up in its talons and plopped him into the pit it had risen from. Placing all four feet around his laboring body, the dragon began sinking back into the ground. The soil autonomously filled in the basin, meeting the dragon halfway in burying its legs. The man thrashed to keep his face above the ground. This time, Aliana felt relief over pity. The dragon dug its feet further in, fully eclipsing the man from sound and sight. The soil stilled.

The dragon used its long neck to visit Aliana while staying rooted in its bed. Aliana leaned her cheek on its forehead, finding the scales felt nothing like the bark it resembled. She shifted her gaze towards the smaller dragon and asked, “Will it be okay?” At the question, they heard a squeak from the strengthening blue light.

“Now, I just need to know your names.”