Uniting the Heavens

by Emily English

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  Vir turned to give Lake a slight nod. “Good evening, Master.” She returned the gesture and they watched him leave the Library.

  Lake tilted her head at Aren, a wide smile on her face. “I’m impressed.”

  SIXTEEN

  Kaila liked this young mortal far more than the man who had taught her cards in Kaishar. When she had followed Aren around Tiede last night, he seemed so distracted, uncoordinated, and naïve, but in the little time she had spent with him so far, he had proven to be intelligent, funny, and very charming. He was also graceful with a blade—beautiful even. Her memories spun back to their first meeting on the road near Tiede Wood—she as a swan and he as a sleepy fisherman. He had revealed his true skill then, his swiftness and his mind’s ability to sense changes in his surroundings. He was an enigma.

  Aren had cleared a space for her at his desk, and he busied himself with shelving stacks of books and answering research questions that Elder had left for him. She watched him every now and then from the corner of her eye, fascinated by how he had immersed himself in his work, determined to give her the space she needed.

  She looked over her notes. The little Priestess couldn’t be more than six or seven, and the images Kaila had seen—which she could only imagine were memories—were still fresh in Selina’s mind. The rainstorm images had been the most prevailing, so she narrowed her search to the most record-worthy storms of the past five years.

  She noted the storm that had resulted from the fight with Alaric during the autumnal aurorae. Tiede’s records had much to say about it. The lower harbor area had flooded, and one fisherman had lost his life at sea. The storms were strongest the first three days, but continued on for several weeks. The aurorae, however, had been the most beautiful ever witnessed in Tiede.

  She found it strange to read what the mortals thought of the incident. Beautiful, they had said. To her, it was one of the most terrible fights she had ever had with Alaric. It wasn’t often he would turn demon, and “beautiful” was not the word she would have used to describe those evenings.

  “Is everything all right?” Aren asked, leaning back in his chair, a small leather-bound book open in his hands, a look of concern on his face.

  Kaila was taken aback, and it took her a second to snap out of her reverie. He closed his book and sat up, raising an eyebrow at her. “I was reading about this storm,” she said. “It says a fisherman died, and I was just thinking of how awful that must have been for his family.”

  Aren moved closer to read the text she was referring to, then leaned back in his chair again. “No one knew that the rains were coming or that they were going to come down so hard. The seas were violent that morning, and the skies lit up bright as day, despite the dark clouds. We’d all hoped it wouldn’t last because it was the height of the aurorae, and it’s a tradition in Tiede to sit outside and watch the evening skies.”

  “You must have been so disappointed,” she said, recalling her own anger and sadness.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the aurorae; I know they aren’t visible from Tennar, but in your line of study, you must’ve traveled to see it. It’s spectacular, and no one has a better view than Tiede.”

  She smiled at the pride in his voice. “I’ve seen it from Illithe, but my goal was to return to Tiede this coming autumn to view them from here.”

  “Come see me when you return. I know a nice spot in this House to view them where no one will bother us.”

  “Let me guess.” She pointed up. “The roof?”

  “Some of the servants who don’t fear the heights and winds go up there, and most people like to go to Crescent Park or the Harbor and Guild Districts to take part in the festivities. If I’m not with my family, I go to the House baths to watch. I take a bottle of wine and lean out over the wall. Between the sea and the sky, there’s so much peace.”

  “And you’re inviting me to this inner sanctum of yours?”

  “I’d certainly consider it,” he teased. “I’m sure you have some interesting stories you could tell based on your studies. I might be willing to share a bottle of wine with you for a few good stories.”

  She laughed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Her heart felt lighter, and she was surprised that he could have this effect on her. The pain of her memories had a tendency to linger and cloud her mood, but with a few words he had brushed the pain away.

  “Anyway,” he said, “everyone spent the day inside, praying the rains would end, but it got worse; thunder shook the cliffs and lightning tore up the sky. People swore up and down that the world was ending. Then night fell, and rain or not, people began peeking out their windows and looking to the heavens. Sure enough, the aurorae appeared, brilliant as jewels against the blackened skies. Everyone wandered out of their houses and into the streets just to get a better look because fat clouds cut a horizontal line through the aurorae. You’d think that’d make for a terrible show, but the clouds were lighting up! So you have these amazing drapes of color, then bursts of white light erupting all over it. I stood by the baths, drenched from the downpour, but I couldn’t stop watching. It was brilliant.” Kaila stared at him with fascination; the wonder and amazement on his face made him look like a little boy. “I’m sorry. I talk too much when I’m comfortable.” His cheeks grew red, and he turned his gaze to the book in his hand, a smile playing on his lips.

  “I’m glad to get this firsthand account from you,” she said so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed. “So often I read of these events, but there’s not much substance without knowing how people were affected.”

  He looked at her and nodded. “There’s only one other storm I can think of right off that really impacted me. It was the night I met Selina.”

  Kaila perked up. This was the event she was searching for. She took her cup of coffee and sipped a little. It was still hot and helped ease her excitement. She hoped her hands weren’t shaking. “I think it’s time for that story you promised me.”

  He laughed. “I don’t recall a promise, only an exchange.”

  She flashed him a coy look. “If your story is good enough, I think an arrangement can be made,” she said, referencing his willingness to trade stories for wine.

  “Get comfortable, then. You’re about to take a peek into my peculiar world.”

  “I expect nothing less,” she said, reaching over to push stray strands of hair away from his eyes.

  SEVENTEEN

  Aren felt dizzy and wished with all of his heart that he could just lay down for a minute. He was tired, he reasoned. He had traveled all the way from the river the other day, running through the Wood to save his and Selina’s lives. Then, he had stayed up late last night and was up late again this evening. That’s why he was all out of sorts.

  Who was he kidding? It was this woman. Her fingertips had brushed against his temple when she moved his hair aside, and he wanted nothing more than for her to touch him like that again. There had been no meaning in it—nothing seductive or mysterious or suggestive. So why did he feel as though his chest would explode?

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  He started to respond, then stopped, clearing his throat. “I’m fine. I bumped my head the other night, and—”

  “I didn’t want to be rude”—she indicated his left eye—“and ask when Elder introduced us. It looks like you took a beating.”

  He nodded, his eyes downcast. “I don’t recall what happened, but there’s this thing in Tiede that’s been killing people. It hasn’t been caught yet, and I think I’m the first person who’s seen it up close and survived.” He slid over the book he had been reading. “It said things to me I didn’t understand. I was hoping this book would help; it has some of the older dead languages in it.”

  She picked it up and opened to a random page, skimming the words. “Were you able to figure it out?”

  “My knowledge of old languages isn’t terrible, but I’m far from being an expert. How are you on
old languages?” he asked, pulling his notebook and pen close.

  “Fair enough. What did you hear?”

  He wrote the words on a blank page as she looked on. “I think I figured out enough to know how to spell it, based on key markers. Shiijanh is one of the words. The other is nafhakur. But it makes no sense. They sound like words in Ancient, but I’ve not been able to find a meaning.”

  “If you have the sound of the words, and if you isolated the key, then I’m sure you can figure out the rest,” she said, taking his pen and correcting his writing. “It’s not Ancient. Try this: T’jand. Niaf’kur.”

  “Old Magic,” he breathed, surprised. “I never would’ve guessed! I was so focused on using Ancient.”

  “So now do you know what it means?”

  “Don’t laugh if I get it wrong; my Old Magic is horrific,” he said, squinting. “One who brings. A messenger?”

  “That’s right. T’jand refers to one who carries something from one place to another.”

  “And niaf’kur is something along the lines of ‘one of our own’?” He scribbled a sentence. “So the last thing I remember translates to ‘offering is good’—whatever that means.”

  “You are awfully young to know so much about the old languages.” She winked at him.

  “Look who’s talking.” He nudged her knee with his. “You just saved me hours of research.” He looked her in the eyes, loving the genuine happiness he sensed in them. “Thank you. I don’t know why this creature said these things to me, but I’m a step closer.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to tell me that story?” she asked, closing the book on languages and placing it on the desk.

  He took a deep breath, exhaled. “You have to promise you won’t laugh or think I’m crazy.”

  “Is your story really that outlandish?”

  “Some might think so. There was this woman…” He stumbled to explain. “It was three years ago. I was at the Mermaid’s Song waiting for my brother Dane.”

  Aren sat at their usual spot near the back of the tavern, waiting for Dane to show up. He was almost through with his first beer that evening when Gryf came over. It wasn’t unusual for Gryf to join them every now and then, and Aren pushed a seat out for him with the toe of his boot.

  “Hey,” Gryf said, punching Aren’s shoulder.

  “Hey. Joining us tonight?”

  “Can’t,” Gryf said in his usual curt manner. “Just came by to tell you that Dane won’t be either.”

  “Is he in trouble?” Aren asked, half joking.

  “Yes. Father’s got him chained to one of the work tables in the forge to make sure he doesn’t try to get out of his chores.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. Guess I’ll just head back to the House.”

  As Aren watched Gryf disappear through the crowded pub, a barmaid caught Aren’s eye, and she pointed to a glass to see if he wanted another drink. He shook his head and drained the rest of his beer. She winked at him and he smiled, debating whether or not to talk to her.

  He pushed his chair back as he stood up, bumping against someone walking by behind him. He turned to apologize, but the words never came out as he gazed upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She wore a traveler’s cloak of heavy, sky-blue velvet lined with matching satin, and her hood fell back to reveal silky, straight flaxen hair that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were a shiny jade, and she had the gentlest slope of a nose. Her lips were the color and lushness of pink rose petals, parted slightly as if waiting for a kiss.

  She seemed to glow. He was speechless.

  “I was in your way.” She smiled.

  “Not at all, my lady,” he finally managed to say. “I apologize, I can be an oaf. Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m perfectly fine.”

  “You’re not Tiedan.” It was the only sentence he could put together.

  “I’m traveling through, and your features say you aren’t Tiedan either.”

  “Yes and no. I’m Aren,” he introduced himself.

  She held a hand out to him in the style of the Old World, and he reached out to touch it to his lips, thanking Elder in his mind for the lessons on Old World traditions. She was about to say something but at his touch pulled away as if he had shocked her.

  “Your blessing,” she said at once, clearing her throat. “To which god do you belong?”

  He groaned on the inside but kept smiling. “I belong to no one.”

  “You tease me.” Her smile was coy and she poked a slender finger at his chest.

  He grabbed her hand, held it close, feeling dizzy and crazy and not quite himself. “If you insist.”

  “Aren,” she said his name, as if tasting it, then tugged at him to follow. “You are very tempting, but I was just leaving when you bumped into me. Walk me out?”

  He took a smattering of coins from his pocket, laid them down in front of the barmaid, and followed the beautiful woman out into the night. They stood in the wash of the lamplight. She pulled her hood over her head and seemed to shrink into her cloak.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, unfastening his own cloak to give her. “Where are you going? I’ll walk with you.”

  “It’s the night,” she pouted, touching his hand to keep him from giving up his cloak. “I don’t care for it. Also, if my brother sees me unattended, he’ll have a fit. I need to go before he finds me; he would kill me if he knew I was here.”

  “I’m not afraid of him. Stay a while longer.”

  “You should be afraid.” She looked up at him, clasped her hands behind her back. “In all seriousness, which god do you belong to?”

  “Is it that important to you?”

  “Humor me.” Her smile was dazzling. “I like to read fortunes, and part of it requires knowing which god you belong to.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “I wasn’t blessed at birth. What does your fortune-reading have to say about that?” He didn’t mean to sound so clipped and rude, and he wished he could take it back. Seemingly unoffended, she took one of his hands into both of hers. He felt a warmth wash over him.

  “It says nothing.” Her voice was silky and sweet. “There’s something familiar about you. I just can’t put my finger on it—”

  A deep rumble interrupted her, and Aren thought he could feel the ground shake. They both looked around and within seconds, lightning tore up the dark skies to the southeast. He could hear the shattering sound of rain rushing towards the town center. Within seconds, a torrential downpour was upon them, and he pulled the woman back under the protective awning of the tavern.

  People were rushing to find shelter, surprised by the sudden violent storm. The winds began to pick up, throwing the water in all directions, and it was all Aren could do to shelter the lady. Within seconds he was soaked, and the storm showed no sign of letting up.

  “Do you have a room at one of the inns?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard above the thunder. He leaned close to her ear and said, “I can see if there’s a room available here—”

  “I’d like that…” she started, but her voice trailed away as she looked out at the dissipating crowds. Her eyes widened.

  Curious, he turned to see what she was looking at. A tall, shadowed figure of a man in the distance was running towards them. Aren wasn’t sure if the eerie flashes of lightning were playing tricks on him, but the man’s eyes seemed to glow.

  “My brother,” she giggled. “I guess he found me. I have to go!”

  Before Aren could register what was happening, the woman ran off into the rain. He watched her pale-blue cloak drift further away from him, illuminated here and there as she passed under the biolight of the streetlamps. Then the man ran past, swift as a deer, his long black hair trailing behind him.

  It took several seconds for Aren to realize that the woman of his dreams was about to disappear forever. He ground his teeth, then took off after them. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him? He couldn’t imagine any man having the terribl
e luck he did with women, and he was determined not to let this one get away.

  He never even learned her name.

  The rain and the darkness made it difficult to see, and soon he lost sight of the woman’s pale-blue cloak and the man’s black cape. He paused to catch his breath, slicking back his hair, which was plastered all over his forehead and dripped into his eyes.

  As he trudged through the rivers of water filling the streets, his eye caught movement to his left in the alley between two Guild houses. Calamity, a stray black cat that often wandered around town, had knocked over a lid to one of the trash bins in her search for food. Aren was about to move on when he saw a figure pick up the fallen lid and hold it up over its head.

  Stars, it was a child!

  Aren ran down the alley, dropped to the child’s level. The skinny little girl’s black hair was matted, her green dress tattered and soaked through. She was crying and her eyes glistened, though he couldn’t tell her tears from the rain. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, scooping her up and rushing her back to the awning he had been standing under with the woman earlier. He set the girl down, and her little fists rubbed at her eyes as she cried. He dropped to his knees so she could see his face. “You’re all right, sweetheart. I won’t let anything hurt you. Where are your parents?” he asked, pushing his wet hair back from his eyes and rubbing a sleeve across his face.

  A rumble of thunder was followed by a long stretch of lightning that split the sky in two, and the little girl screamed and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her tight, picked her up, and looked around. He didn’t see anyone frantically searching for a child; in fact, the streets were deserted. She was so small; she couldn’t have been older than three or four.

  “Are you lost?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  If he left her out in this downpour, she would get sick. He had to find somewhere for her to dry off and get warm, and she probably also needed food, considering how thin she felt to him.

  “Damn,” he said under his breath. He wanted to search for the woman of his dreams, but she was long gone. Aren decided to return to the tavern. At the very least, he could get the little girl some food and something warm to drink. Calla, the tavern proprietress, would have towels and a fire. He readjusted the girl in his arms and prepared to run through the rain back towards the tavern.