Her fingers gripped tightly to Grim’s collar as she hid her face as they drew higher. She had given this part much thought, the terror that still gripped her even now, safe though she was in Grim’s care. She did not doubt him, truly, but that did not stop the dizzying feeling through her head when she dared try to make out the world below, the rush of air about her cheeks, swirling through her hood unless she was very careful in the way she burrowed.
But she would give no voice of complaint. She had promised herself that before, and she meant it. There were no other options, and she would not make things more difficult for Grim by expressing her unease.
The mist obscured a great deal, hanging low and thick, forcing Grimult to go higher than perhaps he might have otherwise chosen. When they broke through the tops of the wood, the sun greeted them with sharp, warm rays that made her turn her head. It was... lovely, when the ground was obscured and it was just the clouds high over head, a dim haze about them, keeping them cocooned in a realm of beauty all their own. It was not right that she should feel frightened. Grimult had told her that, had reminded her that it was as much her birthright as it was his, to travel through the air.
If it was like this, with no blur of a world below, but peaceful and calm as this was...
Maybe she could believe him.
Perhaps she would fly faster, and Grimult would catch her. And they would go for a while just as they were, simply for the sake of being together. But there would be no knot of dread in her, worried if something should happen and she should plummet, for her own wings would catch her as they parted, bringing them both back to safety.
Grimult wheedled his chin into the confines of her hood, and she belatedly realised he was attempting to find her ear, and she inclined her head, the better to hear him. “We will make a flyer of you yet,” he promised, and she took a deep breath, nodding.
She decided that meant her grip on him was a little too firm, a little too desperate, and she forced herself to loosen it slightly. She would cause trouble if she locked her muscles too completely and then expected to be helpful with their camp later in the day, so with that in mind, she put greater pressure on her left arm and relaxed the right almost entirely.
The top of the Wall was suddenly in view, black and imposing even cloaked as it was at the base. It was thicker than she had imagined, the top bearing pointed spires that more resembled spears than anything decorative, ensuring that there would be no gentle means for any who dared attempt to cross.
She grew startled when Grimult was suddenly bringing them lower, her arms tightening once more when the position was such that she was certain he intended to break their legs as they passed, and she closed her eyes, wanting to yelp, wanting to ask what he could possibly be thinking.
When suddenly the rush about her ears stopped, and she realised he had landed.
It took a considerable amount of will, but she managed to open her eyes, but she seemed powerless to coax her heart to stop beating so rapidly in her chest. “You might have said something,” Penryn managed to choke out.
“Focus is an integral part of flight,” Grimult intoned, leaning down so she could steady herself on her own, finding already that her tension had turned her legs to unstable things. She gripped one of the spires, the main peak of it taller than her, and she was grateful for its presence, fencing them in on either side lest she have visions of toppling over to the ground below from a single misstep.
The path between was fairly narrow, although she was certain it appeared all the more so because of the looming spikes on either side.
Grimult had already shed the pack and was laying out their supplies. They had already discussed the necessity of abandoning some, but she had not expected to do so here. “We could have done this on the other side,” Penryn suggested, feeling a strange urge to see what lay below but not daring to look, not when she feared what her stomach might do in the process.
“We could,” Grimult conceded. “But that would leave evidence that I am not sure we wish to spare. “If someone finds this, it means they are already crossing and have their own trespasses to account for.”
Penryn rubbed her hands against her cloak, nodding her head. Their cook-pot was placed upside down and tucked against the base of a spike, the blackness of it nearly invisible unless one knew to look. Everything else deemed too great a weight joined it, even one of the bedrolls. They had discussed each article previously, weighing its merits over the burden it would cause, and that was one she was strangely sorry to part with. It meant he would sleep all the nearer to her, of course, something that was still so new and indulgent that she could not quite imagine ever wanting to be parted from him again. But there was a fondness there, a memory of the flutter in her belly as she watched him unfurl his own sleeping space, wondering how close he might come to her.
If a particular night when he was a good pace nearer meant that perhaps he had a fondness for her rather than simply a duty for her protection.
Her cheeks burned to remember such fancies, of her desperation for belonging, for love, that she conjured all sorts of imaginings about her poor Grim. She did not want him to know if it, did not want him to ever think that her own love came merely from proximity, willingly conferred to whoever was nearest.
Satisfied with his purge of their belongings, Grimult put the rest back in the pack. It sagged slightly at the top, no longer full and pressed to its limits by their supplies, and she felt a moment’s panic that they had sacrificed too much. But this was the plan, and she had to remind herself firmly that they were not faced with weeks of travel on foot, and should presumably be there in only a few days of determined flight.
She wondered if that would be accurate once they had stopped for the night and muscles unused to such abuse made themselves known.
Penryn had not dared ask Grim if his wings would be weakened by their lack of use, from first the Journey and then the injury. If it was, she would soon know, when her new boots got their use after all.
“Better,” Grimult commented, holding out his hands to beckon her back toward him. She gave him a smile as she did so, placing a kiss on his lips before he could pick her up once more. “And what is that for?” he enquired, as if there must be a reason.
“Just thinking,” she murmured, not truly wanting to speak of it, but finding Grim’s fingers at her chin, coaxing her to look at him. His eyes pressed even if his words did not, and she sighed deeply. “I have not actually done anything wrong yet.” She frowned, reconsidering. “Not... not wrong. But whether I like it or not, there is a part of me that wants the sages to be pleased with me. And I know they would say to send you to tell them of our news, for me to remain in the cottage as I was told to do, to never return over the Wall.”
She turned her head, looking over the precipice to the wilds beyond. Dry and hot when last she had been there, the rains must have come and given a freshening to the foliage for grasses in golds now were edged in tinges of green, the earth rich rather than parched.
“But I am going to,” Penryn confirmed with a nod to her head, turning back to her husband.
And she could only pray that they allow her to speak before they reacted, that they allow for explanation before they gave her the ultimate penalty.
Her body was tense as Grimult picked her up, but he did not immediately set them airborne. “You will be safe,” Grimult assured her, and she did not think that he referred only to their next jaunt in the skies. He would keep her safe for as long as he was able, and that set a tightening to her throat.
She wished that doing what was right, what was needed, meant that the dread and worry would simply disappear, that the course was firm and she could be also, never wavering in her decisions.
But she did.
And a part of her already regretted not remaining in the cottage, of even spending one more day sequestered in its walls with Grim.
She grew all the more regretful when the storm hit.
It began as a darkening of t
he clouds at first, the wind taking on a bitter edge as it whipped at their faces. They had covered a good distance by the time the rains began, but not as long as Grim had said he would prefer before they made camp. He pushed on, his lips tightly pressed in determination, but she could see the weary lines beginning to form as he struggled to maintain their course. The winds were pressing them westward, and they continued to drift in that direction, pushed all the more when the winds sent a sudden surge of current.
And she could see when Grimult chose not to fight, but to drift.
Their speed was great, and Penryn clung tightly to Grimult, trying to share her warmth with him, trying to keep her words to herself, the suggestion to stop and make camp burning at her tongue. It might take more days if their progress was slow, but better than Grimult using all of his strength on their first day.
The clouds meant the light left them too soon, and although she could feel Grimult’s frustration, she could not deny her happiness when they began their descent. There would be no hot supper to offer him, not when their cook-pot had been abandoned, but there would still be a warm fire if they found enough shelter to protect it from the storm. Or if they found kindling and logs that were not already soaked through.
She missed their fireplace.
And their bath full of hot water.
She shivered, forcing herself to move when Grimult landed, not wanting to overtax him. He staggered slightly at the landing, and she put her legs down as soon as she could, hoping to steady him, but only managed to tangle their limbs and send them both tumbling to the ground.
“Sorry,” she burst out, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry. Wanting more than anything to see him dry and warm.
Grim shook his head. “It’s all right,” he assured her, not bothering to move as he took in great lungfuls of air, the rain continuing to pelt down upon him from above. She wanted to reach into the pack, to cover him as quickly as possible with the cloak she had not allowed him to sacrifice, but it would become soaked through just as quickly and leave him nothing dry when they camped. She struggled to her own feet and took a deep breath. They were at the edge of a copse of trees, dark and imposing, and she stupidly missed her lantern, useless though it would have proven in the rains.
She turned back to her husband and extended a hand to him. “We need to get you warm,” she insisted, ignoring her own shivers that were causing her teeth to chatter.
His hand took hers and she helped him from his feet. They huddled close as they walked, Grimult rubbing at her shoulders and arms as they went, perhaps for her comfort, perhaps for his own. She did not mind either way.
They made camp in a shallow den, Grimult leaving her at the entrance, his sword drawn as he ensured there were no wild beasts currently making use of it. It was dry, but lacking in warmth, and if Penryn peered hard enough in the darkness, she thought she could just make out the outline of bones, picked clean and decaying in the dirt.
It was enough to make her shudder and bring her cloak more tightly about her, determined she would not make any further attempts to look about her surroundings.
Finding wood that would burn was more of a challenge than she had thought, but after enough poking about and a great deal of determination, they had a fire in their den, a bedroll to share, and both had stopped their shivering when they had finally slept.
She had forgotten the dead sort of sleep that accompanied by the exhaustion of travel, and she found herself blinking awake at Grimult’s shifting, uncertain how long she had slumbered but wondering if it would be wrong to indulge for just a little longer...
The sun was not out, and surely that meant it was too early to consider leaving the little nest they had managed to create.
“We should go,” Grimult commented, and she did not bother to suppress her groan. It made her husband glance over at her, and her cheeks pinked at her less than gracious response. She could at least hear his reasoning before complaining. “There is wind, but no rain, and I would see us get as far as possible before we must contend with both.”
She did not relish the thought of him having to struggle so hard to keep them moving on a straight course, but she would defer to him. She had been the one to guide their first Journey, but she had been well taught and prepared for every nuance of that one.
In this, she must rely on Grimult’s experience.
She gave another longing look at the bedroll, even if her body was stiff from sleeping in it. She had grown soft again, luxuriating in fine beds with warm linens.
But she got up all the same, doing her part to portion out a hasty breakfast, doing what she could to tear down their encampment in between tending to morning ablutions as best she could given the circumstances.
And then they were off once more.
The wind was not quite as chilling, but perhaps that was because her cloak had dried by the fire, so it did not have opportunity to seep into her very bones, freezing her as thoroughly as possible. Grimult seemed to have to go higher in order to avoid some of the most lurching changes in the wind’s current, and she buried her face in his neck, hidden by his hood, lest fear and a roiling stomach get the best of her.
She hated this. She would never tell him so, but this was not how she had imagined their return to be. She had expected the freedom of flight, an exhilarating, bonding thing between them, a taste of a heritage denied to her.
Instead she longed for the steadiness of the ground, for the tedious trudge that did not lurch her poor stomach to and fro, and she was more than grateful when they finally managed to find a pocket of stillness.
She turned her head, determined she would not look downward, but to allow crisp hair into her lungs, hoping that would help soothe things. Grimult’s brow was creased, but he did not look to be struggling as he had done before, his attention fixed somewhere below.
“What do you see?” she asked, lifting her chin so her lips were at his ear.
“I am not certain,” Grimult answered, shaking his head. There was no mistaking the frustration in him, and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to follow, to try to offer what help she could.
Nothing was recognisable, the landmarks missing from even the aerial maps she had studied. If they were on the proper course, a river should have truncated the wood and plains, a lake should be eastward.
“We will end up in our territory,” Penryn assured him. They might miss the sage’s keep by a great distance, but they would be amongst the farther reaches of their people all the same.
“That is not what concerns me,” Grimult muttered, his words partially obscured by their movement through the air.
There was a dark line across one of the plains, and Penryn squinted in an attempt to ascertain what it might be. It was not wholly dissimilar to when they had caught sight of the large beasts from above, present and terrifying in their way, smudges against a sea of green and gold.
But these joined and formed a long trail against the landscape, moving as one.
She swallowed.
“What do you think it is?” Penryn asked, already fearing the answer.
It could be a large migration of creatures unknown to her.
But the movement was organised, happening as one rather than the sprawling meander of beasts.
They were drawing nearer, and Penryn almost asked him to stop, to alter course so they would not come too close. But Grimult was already moving, pushing them forward, the only thing keeping them from being spotted their sheer distance from the ground. She was certain if she had been able to fly herself, Grimult would have gone down closer to the surface to see for himself without putting her at risk, but that was not possible.
She could feel the tension in him, the frustration at not being able to do as instinct told him, but he held them aloft.
And still, it became obvious, when keen eyes were allowed to settle, when the horde was directly below.
For that is what they were.
Marching as one, land-dwellers making their way north. P
enryn could not make out if they had weapons amongst them, if it was an army or if this was simply their way, a transient people never settling for long.
A horn blast, long and loud reached them, and the people halted as one.
The following rang in her ears, giving her a sense of foreboding that urged her to put her lips to Grim’s ear, to entreat him to move, to leave this place before...
Another blast rapidly followed by another three, short staccato bursts that sent a rumbling through the crowd far below.
Grimult was already moving by the time a volley of arrows sliced through the mist, whizzing below them with menacing speed. Should he have allowed them to be any closer, some doubtlessly would have hit, but he drew them higher still, the cold and winds biting at them both, but the land-dweller’s weapons were unable to reach such a height so they were offered that safety at least.
Penryn gripped tightly to Grim’s collar, willing them forward, away from the danger, from the swarm of people down below marching onward.
She tried to tell herself that they could simply be relocating. Making use of the wild lands and protecting their secrecy by attacking any that witnessed their movement.
But even then, they would surely send out riders when they saw that their foe did not fall to their arrows, to hunt them down before they reached the comparative safety of the keep.
She swallowed thickly.
She should not have complained about yesterday. It was miserable flying in the rain and the wind, but there was a safety in it too, as none else surely would venture from their dwellings.
Others clearly thought to make use of the dry skies as well.
Another volley of arrows before there was another horn blast, dim though it was as they moved away from the horde.
Penryn’s eyes were not keen enough to notice if they had indeed sent riders after them, but she was certain they would not land for a long while in order to find out.
The Lightkeep Page 19
