by H. L. Burke
Her chest tightened. “That is a great weight to put upon me. I don’t even know if Olyn will like me, let alone if I can bring him joy.”
A smile flitted across his mouth as the sun broke free from the cloud again. “I think you will.”
They approached a stand of tall trees, like pillars with branches that reached from crown to ground. A fresh, green scent rose off them, like nothing she’d ever smelled before.
“What are those?” she asked, pointing towards the trees.
“Trees.” He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously in the orange-tinted light.
She elbowed him in the side. “I know they are trees, you dune mule. I meant what sort. What are they called? We don’t have them in Solea.”
“I’m honestly not sure. Pines or firs?” He brought her up to them and pulled one of the branches closer.
She felt the greenery. Instead of broad bladed leaves like the palms of her homeland, they had sharp, short needles. She crushed these between her fingers, releasing more of the pleasant perfume.
“Yes, these are firs. You find them throughout the Gloaming. Excellent for building. A lot of the palace interiors are of imported fir wood.”
Arynne pressed her face against the needles, inhaling the somehow comforting scent. “Are there trees in Frorheim?”
“Some. They grow around the starshards and many are planted in the light of the Starspire. Elsewhere, no. Trees need light to survive.” He broke off a branch about the length of his forearm and handed it to her. “It’ll stay fresh for several moonnotches and even when it dries provide some scent. Keep it.”
She took the branch. “Thank you.” Something prickled at the back of her neck, as if someone were using magic nearby. Her eyes jerked up from the branch and looked beyond Kay, towards the sea. A figure stood as still as stone at the edge of the water. The light at his back shadowed his features, but from his posture, Arynne felt sure he was staring straight at her.
“Is ... is that one of your men?” she pointed.
Kajik turned. As he did, his shoulder blocked her view. Arynne stepped to the side so she could see the strange figure again ... and saw nothing.
“I don’t see anyone?” Kajik shrugged.
“I ... I was sure there was a man standing by the water’s edge just a moment ago.” She stepped closer, scanning up and down the coastline. No one was there.
He shrugged. “Maybe it was a trick of the light?”
“Maybe.” She drew closer to him, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “If there’s nothing else you want to tell me about Frorheim, maybe we should head back? I’m hungry and a little tired.”
“Of course.” He offered her his hand. “I wouldn’t mind a crackling campfire and some good company myself.”
When they started their walk back, boisterous singing greeted them through the darkness.
Kay grinned. “Ah, sounds like Soryl’s gotten into the ale. His tongue’s going to be loose.”
Arynne rolled her eyes. “Of all the people I know, Soryl is the last one who needs his tongue loosened.”
Kay squeezed her hand. “You’d think that, but once you hear the man sing, I bet you’ll change your tune as well.” He winked. “He knows every ballad ever sung in Frorheim and some from foreign parts. It’s half the reason we take him on missions. Bit of an idiot, but no better boost to morale than a slightly tipsy Soryl by a campfire.”
His pace quickened, and Arynne hurried to keep up. As they drew close enough to smell the smoke of a bonfire, a second voice, sweet and feminine, joined Soryl’s baritone. Arynne fell silent to listen as the two sang in a heart-swelling duet.
“When snow falls on yonder pine
Always keep your hand in mine
For though wind may roar and frost may bite
I’ll keep you warm and be your light.”
Arynne stopped just outside of the circle of firelight. Elfrida sat, her eyes closed, face raised towards the heavens, singing her heart out with Soryl beaming at her side. They sang of cold winds and crackling ice, of stars pure and cold looking down from on high, and the sharp, clear howl of a lone wolf, but also of hearth and home, of the arms of a lover and hearts beating as one. They sang, and Arynne’s heart cracked open with a longing she’d never felt before, a longing for a land she’d never seen and a love she’d never known. Losing all sense of when and where, she stood still and silent and let the ballad swirl around her.
The song came to an end, and the men burst into cheers.
“You’ve met your match, Soryl!” Ivak shouted. “Lady Elfrida, you must join the wardens so we can be done with this saucy fellow and instead enjoy your dulcet tones.”
Elfrida’s cheeks reddened. “I'm no lady. Only a simple maid, and as tempting as your offer is, I must stay with my princess.” She turned from the men and her gaze fell on Arynne. Her smile faded, and she stared into Arynne’s heart.
Suddenly aware that she still held Kay’s hand, Arynne flushed, dropped it, and hurried forward, leaving the starwarden standing in the darkness.
For a while, Arynne’s insides felt unsettled at the thought of what Elfrida might think after having seen her being so familiar with that rascal Kay. However, merry singing, good food, and better company soon chased her worries away. She even tried a little of the sour-sweet beverage that the men were passing around. It didn’t suit her, but she forced down the swallow rather than spit it upon the ground as she wished. This act of “mettle,” as saucy Soryl put it, gained her a rousing cheer from the men. Not knowing the words to their ballads, she sat and listened, laughing and smiling, as they shared songs and stories until the campfire died to red coals.
Their guides had wagons filled with supplies, including sturdy tents which the men pitched, one for her and Elfrida, the other for the Frorian men to share. Kay assured her that they’d keep a watch through the resting-time then bid her a good sleep. As he walked away she could hear Rafal griping at Ivak about a man of his “position” being forced to share lodging with common wardens.
“If it’s good enough for Kajik, it’s good enough for you,” Ivak snapped. Rafal’s mouth snapped shut. Arynne thoughtfully toyed with her braids. Another clue to the mystery that was Kajik? Or just Ivak showing his respect for the younger man? Well, she had the rest of the journey to figure it out.
After closing the flap of their tent, Arynne settled into her blankets and cushions, exhausted but content. She couldn’t remember a point in her life where she’d felt so free.
The next waking-time, she stood to the side as the men packed up their gear and loaded it into the one of the guides’ two wagons. Ivak approached her and Elfrida, leading two short, furry ponies.
“Can you ride?” he asked.
“Well enough.” Arynne smiled, thinking of the thoroughbred desert stallions upon which she’d learned to ride. Comparing these stout little ponies to those was like comparing kittens to lions.
While the wagons were pulled by four more of the same sturdy, stocky ponies, they weren’t the only beasts of burden in the caravan. Kajik and Ivak walked a little ways from the shore and came back leading a trio of tall, elegant creatures that resembled the gazelles that grazed in Solean oases, only much larger and more muscular and with racks of antlers like the arching branches of a mighty tree. They had silver fur with great white ruffs of thicker fur about their necks.
“Are those moss-elk?” Arynne asked, remembering how Kay had often referenced such creatures.
“Indeed.” He grinned, rubbing the nose of the one he led. “We left them stabled at a nearby farmer’s home in exchange for some coin. They were too difficult to transport to Solea, but when we come to the snowy passes leading into Frorheim, we’ll be glad to have them.”
Arynne tentatively approached the beast. She held out her hand. “May I?”
Kajik nodded. “Go ahead.”
She eased forward and brought her palm to cup the creature’s velvety snout. Its hot breath warmed her skin. “It’s b
eautiful,” she whispered.
“I think he likes you.” Kajik rubbed the elk’s neck. “Come on. I want to get started.”
Over the next several waking-times, they traveled on a twisting dirt road through a dark wood of towering pines and firs. Occasionally they’d come across a stretch where the forest had been laid low by some catastrophic force, great tree trunks shattered like kindling, whole sections of wood flattened. Kay, who road beside Arynne on his elk, explained these were scars from one of the many massive storms that plagued the Gloaming. “Some areas of the wood will go for decades untouched, only to be brought low in a few hours.”
Arynne’s hands tightened on the reins, unable to imagine a wind capable of snapping trees that size to pieces.
For the most part their road was clear, though occasionally the men would call halt so they could clear a fallen tree from the path. Stretches of the road passed through low marshlands with a fetid odor that made Arynne pull her collar over her nose and shut her eyes until they were through it. In these sections, the road had been built up with great boulders so they could walk free of the mud and murk.
“We’re at a low ebb,” Kay commented as they crossed a bridge over a trickle of a stream. “The Gloaming is one of the few places that can sometimes grow cold enough to freeze for periods but then warm up and melt all the ice and snow that has collected, causing floods. The runoff is what feeds the rivers and lakes of this area—and through that the great Skymere and all the rivers that flow from it.”
“My tutors told me about that.” Arynne nodded. “They say if not for this source of water, life would’ve dried out on the sun-side of the world.”
“They’re probably right. Being from a land where ice never melts, I haven’t given it much thought.”
At resting-times they’d camp beneath the trees and Arynne would practice her magic using the flames from the campfires. After the first few resting-times, she learned to twist the fire into various shapes, much to the delight of the wardens and even their usually silent guides. The fire comforted her, for the forests grew darker by the mile as the light from the far horizon faded behind the hills. A handful of stars now accompanied them along their way, and on the third waking-time a silver-white orb rose above the treeline. Arynne gasped. She’d seen the moon before, a faint ghost in the Solean sky, overpowered by the might of the ever-present sun. However to see it now as a lantern in the heavens, it seemed a whole other celestial body, an orb of power and light. She stared at it for hours at a time.
Slowly the path sloped upward, the terrain growing rockier and the trees smaller and farther between. The air also grew colder. Arynne bundled herself in every garment she had, pulling gloves over her fingers, layering stockings beneath her boots. It still wasn’t enough, and it took all her willpower to stop her teeth from constantly chattering. Her magic became her solace, for whenever they stopped for the resting-time she’d draw the flames of their fire higher and higher, until the gooseflesh left her skin and she no longer shivered.
On the fourth waking-time—or moonnotch as the Frorians called them—a heavy layer of cloud settled over the forest, blocking the few stars and even the moon like a great gray blanket. The Frorians brought out long-handled lanterns, each with a fist-sized orb of starshard within it. Arynne kept her pony near the circles of light and heat these produced, trying to shrug off the feeling of dread the change in weather brought her. The Frorians and their guides likewise grew somber. Soryl tried to lift spirits by singing on the path, but received a sharp word from Ivak in response. Rafal kept to himself, choosing to ride on the supply wagon rather than mingle with the other men.
At the start of the fifth moonnotch, they reached a line of cliffs. The slick black rock towered above the tiny band. Arynne traced the narrow switch-back road she assumed was their path up into the low clouds. She let out a long breath to steady herself only to cry out in shock. A ghost formed before her face, a cloud of vapor that lingered for a heartbeat only to fade.
“What is it?” Kajik rushed to her side.
“The ... the air.” Her words puffed forth as more fog. Realizing that she was somehow seeing her own breath, embarrassment gripped her.
Kajik chuckled. “That happens when the heat of your lungs meets the cool of the mountain air. You’ll be seeing a lot of that in Frorheim.”
“It’s unsettling.” She drew herself up taller in the saddle.
They spent the rest of the waking-time climbing the cliff face. Between the whipping, biting wind and the slippery stones, the guides didn’t wish to risk stopping for even a moment, driving the little party to complete the grueling ascent. When they finally reached the top, they faced a broad, empty plain covered in jutting rocks and no plant life. Patches of white and gray coated many surfaces.
Dismounting for a closer look, Arynne squinted at the white, trying to decide if it was light-colored stone or some sort of earth. As she did, a gust of wind blew stinging particles against her face. She threw her hand over her eyes, but finding no damage to her skin, she lowered her arm again. White dots settled on her sleeve only to disappear moments later.
Elfrida approached her, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s snow!” The older woman grabbed Arynne’s arm and, with all the gravitas of a toddler at a party, dragged her to the nearest patch. She scooped up a handful of the white substance and passed it to Arynne. Arynne swallowed and crushed it between her fingers. It crunched pleasantly.
“This has obviously frozen and thawed and frozen again. Fresh snow is light and soft and ... oh, you’ll see.” Elfrida stared at flakes falling from the sky. “Oh, Princess, I’m going to see Frorheim again!”
Uncertain why this filthy patch of frozen water elicited such joy, Arynne still smiled to see Elfrida’s joy. “I’m so glad I could bring you home.”
“Princess Arynne!” Ivak called over the whistling breeze. The women hurried to meet him. “This is as far as our guides are taking us. Through that pass, and we’re officially in Frorian territory.” He pointed forward. On the horizon loomed another line of impressive cliffs, their tops lost in the clouds. In the center, however, was a notch, a v-shaped passage to a land beyond. “The roads should be clear. We have wardens who specifically patrol from the Starspire to the pass a few times a starcycle, to be certain no avalanches have taken out the roadways or that the grimwolves haven’t attacked the larger starshards.”
“Grimwolves?” A shiver cut through Arynne at the word, though she didn’t know the meaning. “That sounds ominous.”
“They are that.” Kay came up from behind Ivak. “A grimwolf ... or a grimbear or even a grimowl ... is a creature that has been corrupted by dark magic. They’re quick, cunning, and their only desire is to snuff out all light within Frorheim. Thankfully, the wardens keep their populations thinned. If we get word that a pack of wolves has come into contact with dark magic, we put them down before it can spread.”
“We still get an outbreak from time to time, though.” Ivak frowned. “That’s why it’s good to have Starwarden Kajik around—”
Kay cleared his throat loudly.
Ivak flushed and dropped his eyes. “Nevermind. I’m rambling. Either way, we shouldn’t have to worry about the journey. We’re in the homestretch.” He shifted from foot to foot. “The guides are also taking the ponies with them. The moss-elk are better for traveling in the snow. You can ride in the wagons, however, princess. Excuse me. I need to make sure the guides get their payment.”
Arynne narrowed her eyes at Kay as Ivak walked away. “What did you not want him to say?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kay gave a flippant shrug.
Arynne opened her mouth then shut it again. Let him play coy. She’d figure out his secrets sooner or later.
Having amicably parted ways with the guides, the group started once more in the direction of the gap. As they did the sprinkling of snow turned to spitting gusts. Unable to keep her eyes open against it, Arynne abandoned her furry pony and
climbed into the back of their wagon with the luggage. Tired and cold, she snuggled under a stack of furs and drifted off to sleep.
When a hand shook her awake, she gasped and bolted upright.
“Easy!” Kay gripped her shoulder. “It’s just me.”
Flushing, she sat up. A thin dusting of white covered everything around her, though her body still felt warm under the furs. She ran her finger through the sugar dusting of snow. “Did you need something, Starwarden?” she said in her most formal tone.
He arched an expressive eyebrow. “Just to let you know that we’re putting runners on the wagon because the snow is getting deeper. I didn’t want the workers awakening you with their hammering and shaking taking off the wheels.”
“Oh, thank you.” She pulled the furs up around her neck. “It only gets colder from here, doesn’t it?” She cast her eyes over the area around the wagon. Craggy, snow-covered cliffs rose on either side of their group, lit only by the starshard lanterns the Frorians carried as they went about their tasks.
“For the most part, but the area around the Starspire will be warm—and our homes are warm. We Frorians are humans, not creatures of stone and ice. We need heat and comfort just as you do.”
“Yet you choose to live in a land devoid of color and light.” The bitterness of her own words coated her tongue like poison, and she had to avoid his keen blue eyes. She silently chided her own weakness. After all, she’d chosen this fate, chosen to come here, but now, seeing how dark and desolate the land was, she ached for the warm sun, the brilliant blue sky, the green palm trees, and golden sands of her homeland. Had Vanya been right? Would she regret her decisions so soon?
“It has its own harsh beauties.” Kay touched her cheek. “Give it time.”
“I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “I do not mean to speak ill of your homeland. I just ... I miss beauty and light.”
“Arynne.” He leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Look up.”
Arynne obeyed, and her breath left her. An expanse of deep blue and black stretched above them, spun with endless points of light like jewels in a crown. Gold, purples, greens, and silvers, streaks and whorls in an endless blanket of silent depth. It stretched on forever, vast and incomprehensible.
