—You are rightfully impressed.
“Why me?”
—As I said, we will discuss that in due time. There is one other significant facet to the full Ordine gift. Because you did not tap into Ordine’kel before accepting Heritage, your access to ’kel is dependent upon holding Heritage.
“And Ordine’cin is always available to me because I was born with it.”
—Correct.
He pondered what he had learned over the past several days. “The way you and I talk. Is that how sword-bearers communicate with our ancestors?”
—Primarily. There is another method, but that, too, is best saved for another chat.
“What about when a Gairden undergoes the Rite of Heritage, accepting the position of sword-bearer from a Gairden who is still alive? Does the previous sword-bearer lose communication with the sword?”
—Yes... in a manner of speaking.
“So my mother can no longer communicate with her ancestors?”
Heritage did not respond.
Aidan banged his fist on the table, sending Heritage and the lantern ratting against the wood. “Why won’t you answer?”
—Because it is a very complicated matter. We’ll discuss it soon.
“Why not now?”
—You are not ready.
“I am tired of everyone telling me what I am and am not ready for.”
—I thought you preferred to have all your affairs handled for you. Minimal effort, minimal responsibility. Isn’t that your way of life?
Aidan closed his eyes, seeing the shocked faces of the clansmen at Sharem, heard their screams as they were burned alive and ripped apart. He remembered the odor of burning flesh, their blackened hands outstretched in unanswered pleas for mercy.
“Not anymore.”
—I am happy to hear that, Aidan.
They were silent for a few moments.
“So,” he said, steeling himself, “if I’m the sword-bearer, then my mother is not.” He thought back to the corpse that had worn his mother’s face in the sword chamber. “Something has happened to her. Why was she demoted? Where is she?”
Silence.
Aidan’s eyes stung as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s my fault. Whatever’s happened to her is my fault.”
—You have told me what you find tiring. Would you like to know what I find tiring?
He didn’t answer.
—Your constant desire to make everything about you.
“You don’t understand. This is my fault. I—”
—No, Aidan, it is not your fault. Everything always has to be about you, doesn’t it? Good things, bad things—they must have something to do with you. Stop wallowing in self-pity, child. It is past time you grew up.
Aidan stared open-mouthed.
—I am proud that you have decided to think for yourself and take matters into your own hands. But this is not only about you, Aidan. Do not presume to make it so.
“I just want to understand.”
—You will, in due time. But for now, will you swear to never forget what I’m about to tell you?
Aidan nodded.
—Your parents love you dearly. They always have, and they always will. Never forget that.
He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.
—I believe that’s enough for tonight. Get some rest for the journey ahead.
Suddenly flooded with weariness, Aidan pushed himself from the table and gathered Heritage. There were other questions to ask, but they could wait. Replacing Heritage at his side, he began to cross the common room when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The dark-haired woman from earlier that night entered, then stopped when she saw him, startled.
“I guess I’m not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight,” she said, smiling. Her hair bobbed against her shoulders as she strode toward him. Her wool tunic and trousers were simple, clothes meant more for riding than time spent in palace courts, yet the plainness of her garments was offset by rings adorning each finger that glittered in the room’s dim lighting. A golden bracelet, which Aidan recognized as the unmatched craftsmanship of the Darinian smiths of Zellibar, jangled on her wrist.
Aidan smiled and nodded, preparing to move around her toward the stairs, when she reached out and placed her hand on his wrist.
“Would you mind keeping me company? My brother is asleep, and I’m a bit restless.”
“I’m rather tired,” he began.
“I’ll only keep you for a short while,” she promised, flashing another dazzling smile. It was beautiful—but there was something familiar about it as well, he noted. The soft touch of her fingers decided for him. He sat down at the nearest table, carefully setting Heritage on the bench beside him after he was settled.
“Thanks,” she said as she sat across from him. “I’m Christine.” She extended her hand.
Taking her hand, Aidan began to voice his own name before instead saying, “Thomas.” It came out awkwardly, as if it was a word he’d just learned and was having difficulty pronouncing.
She held his gaze and his hand for a few long moments then retracted her arm to fold her hands on the table. “Nice to meet you. Thomas.”
Aidan felt a moment of panic when he realized his face was not concealed. His hand twitched, wanting to pull down the hood of his cloak, but he resisted. It would seem too suspicious now, and she didn’t seem to recognize him, covered as he was in dirt and muck picked up from travel.
“I’m surprised you want to talk with me,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because you’re Sallnerian, and I’m Torelian, and civil conversation just won’t do, he thought. “After what happened earlier tonight, people seem eager to stay as far away as possible,” he said instead.
“Except for your friend,” she noted.
“He wouldn’t be a friend, otherwise.”
“Good point. I assume it was magic you were using?”
“Yes.”
“I am also one of the Touched.” She held out her right hand. Among the ornately crafted rings inset with different jewels was the gold loop and purple stone of a Cinder Band, which occupied her forefinger.
“Where did you train?” he asked her.
“At the Lion’s Den in Sharem.”
“Ah,” Aidan replied, eager to steer the conversation away from that particular city. To his delight she seemed to pick up on his discomfort.
“Where are you from?” she asked. “You look Torelian.”
Aidan hesitated. She seemed nice enough, but the less anyone knew about him, the better. “From Torel, yes. Now I’m a vagabond.” It was true to a degree. “I have no home.”
She made a sound of understanding. “My brother and I have traveled the world since childhood. I paid for my education as I earned a living: spent time learning, then spent time working, and so forth. It took a long time, but I did it.”
He nodded. “If I may ask, weren’t your parents able to help with your education?”
She lowered her eyes. “My mother died when I was very young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know,” she said, unperturbed. “Garrett and I stayed with our father for a year or so, but we don’t really get along with him.”
Aidan nodded. The man with her in the common room. He felt oddly relieved. He opened his mouth to say something, but yawned instead. “Sorry. I’m afraid my travels are catching up to me.”
“Not a problem,” Christine said, again flashing that enchanting smile. “Thanks for entertaining me for a bit.”
“It was my pleasure.” He lifted Heritage from the bench and rose. “Goodnight, Christine.” He got about halfway across the room before she spoke again.
“Thomas,” she called, and it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. He turned. Rising from the table, she sauntered toward him with a lopsided smile.
“Since we’re both travelers, I wonder...” She paused, and a slight blush spread over
her cheeks. Aidan was surprised; blushing didn’t seem like the sort of reaction she had very often. He found himself smiling. She wore the blush well.
“Would you and your friend like to travel with Garrett and me?” she continued.
“That’s a nice offer, Christine, but—”
“We travel all over, like I told you,” she said in a rush. “We perform a small magic show in every city and village we come to. We have our own group, just the two of us, called Spectacle. We’d be happy to have you both.” She winced. “I apologize for rambling, I’m not used to... never mind.” The blush spread further.
Aidan gave her an easy smile. “I do appreciate the offer, Christine. But I’m afraid I can’t accept. I have somewhere I have to be.”
“Oh. All right,” she said, giving him a bright smile.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. But my friend and I have plans that cannot be broken.”
“I understand.”
“Maybe we will meet again,” he said, and he hoped it was true. “Now just isn’t a good time. It was nice to meet you, Christine.”
The crash and yell from downstairs brought Aidan and Daniel awake with a start. Raising a finger to his lips, Aidan grabbed Heritage, dashed into the hall, and peered down the stairs. The inn door lay in pieces across the floor. Howling wind vomited snow through the doorway. There were Wardsmen in the room, five of them that Aidan could see, each looking around with flat, dead eyes. Aidan grabbed the hilt and tapped into ’kel. The Sight stripped the human faces from the vagrants. Aidan cursed under his breath. How did they always manage to find him?
One turned to look up the stairs. Aidan darted behind the wall and slunk back to his room. Behind him, heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs.
“Vagrants,” he whispered to Daniel as he shut and locked the door behind him. Daniel leaped from his bed and hastily dressed. Aidan dressed just as hastily, hopping around as he struggled with one boot.
“Where can we escape?” Daniel croaked.
Aidan pulled hard on the window, but it wouldn’t budge. Footsteps reached their door and halted. Aidan stepped back and swung Heritage at the window, shattering it. Snow gusted in, stinging his face. He used the sword to wipe away loose fragments of glass as he motioned for Daniel to crawl through. From outside the door came a deep bellow, and a moment later, the door shuddered with a heavy thud.
Aidan crawled through the window and scrambled down the icy slanted roof to the ground, moving to follow Daniel’s running form into the night. He heard their door shatter with a loud crash. He looked back and saw one of the creatures lean out of the window, its skull twisting at unnatural angles as it searched for them. It spotted the escaping duo and roared. The wind howled in reply.
“Where are we going?” Aidan shouted.
Daniel pointed straight ahead at a large expanse of trees barely visible in the blinding snowfall. They staggered into the forest and stopped to catch their breath. Aidan drew a few deep gulps of air and looked back at the inn. “I don’t see anything,” he gasped.
“Maybe we lost them,” Daniel wheezed.
Straightening, Aidan looked around warily. Shadows, bent and twisted like the trees they belonged to, seemed to seep forward. Soft laughter whispered through the branches, audible even over the wind. Aidan drew Heritage as his eyes darted about. Something moved against a thick trunk several paces away. The shadows were sliding toward them. They detached from the trees and glided along the ground, inching closer to their trapped prey. The laughter grew louder, dwarfing the howl of the wind, as the shadows drew closer.
Daniel whipped his dagger out of its sheath and stood beside Aidan.
Aidan gasped as the creatures continued to close in. “I’ve seen these shadows before.”
“Where?”
Aidan swallowed. He remembered them crawling on top of him when he was unable to move, pouring down his throat and nostrils, suffocating him, choking him...
“In a nightmare.”
Daniel gritted his teeth. “Dream shadows? At this point, I’m willing to believe anything. How did you kill them?”
“I couldn’t.”
The shadows banded together, knitting into one enormous spread. The soft laughter rose in pitch as the bulk flowed around the trees like water, surrounding them. Daniel shouted and flipped a dagger into the amorphous mass. A tendril shot out and snatched the knife in mid-flight and sucked it into its core.
“Try magic!” Daniel shouted hoarsely.
“No light!” Aidan shouted back.
The shadow was almost touching their feet. Soon, neither would have any room to move at all. Suddenly the shadow beast let out an ear-splitting shriek. It slithered back a few paces, its wispy tendrils twisting like ebony serpents as plumes of smoke rose from its mass.
“What did you do?” Daniel asked.
Another bolt of pure-fire whizzed through the branches and lanced the creature. It gave a hoarse, rumbling moan as a third bolt streaked toward it. It stiffened, absorbing the attack, then continued to move toward them.
“It fears fire!” came a shout from their left, and Aidan saw Christine and her brother charge into sight on horseback, each holding a torch. Instantly recalling how the shadows had attacked first in his nightmare like dogs attacking a slab of meat, Aidan began to kindle from Christine’s torch. Then he heard his lamp clink against his armor, cursed himself for a fool, and kindled from the lamp instead and shot his own bursts of pure-fire at the branches all around him. Magical flames cut through the wetness of the snow and ice to set wood aflame. Christine shifted her focus as well, aiming high at the trees to spread the fire. The shadow creature drew in on itself as if trying to avoid notice, but the fire was spreading rapidly. It shrieked as flames licked its fringes and streaked through its form.
Aidan advanced, hurling ball after ball of pure-fire. It howled one last time and vanished, leaving behind curling wisps of darkness. As one, Aidan and Christine cut off their spells. Daniel and Aidan burst through the trees and looked around frantically for their rescuers.
“Thomas!” Christine shouted as she galloped toward them.
Daniel turned a confused look on Aidan.
“Just go with it,” he said.
The siblings came to a halt beside them, their horses pawing at the ground and throwing their heads at the scent of smoke.
“Hey, stranger,” Christine said as Aidan scrabbled up behind her. “Going my way?”
Chapter 19
Shelter from the Storm
AIDAN CRANED HIS NECK over his shoulder as the horses pounded through the night, expecting to see vagrants or shadows rushing toward them like a flood of darkness, but the snowstorm shrouded the road.
“What are you looking for?” Christine shouted over the wind.
“Before you found us, a pack of creatures tried to ambush us at the inn,” he shouted in reply.
“What kind of creatures?”
“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She laughed. “I think you owe me more credit.”
“True enough. What was that shadow creature?”
“I’ll explain soon,” she shouted. “Right now we need to find shelter.”
Garrett’s horse caught up and galloped beside them. Aidan glanced at Daniel. He swayed on the saddle behind Garrett, his hands loosely wrapped around the other man’s waist. His eyes weren’t open.
“I don’t suppose you know of anywhere close?” Aidan asked.
As Christine started to reply, Daniel toppled from his saddle.
“Stop!” Aidan cried.
Christine reined in her horse, kicking up snow. Garrett had already wheeled around. Aidan looked around frantically.
—Behind you and to your left.
Aidan looked and saw Daniel lying face down. Snowflakes swarmed over him like flies to meat. Aidan scrambled from his saddle and ran to his friend. Garrett appeared and helped Aidan hoist Daniel back onto his horse, then climbed up behind him and covere
d Daniel’s front with his cloak while Aidan drew light from the torches and wrapped Daniel in a heat bubble.
“He’s sick,” Aidan shouted, climbing behind Christine. “We need to get him to shelter.”
Shielding his eyes, Garrett pointed north with his free hand.
“Tarion should be about a league from here.”
“Let’s go,” Aidan said.
They rode as hard as the storm would allow. The snow was growing deeper. Their horses slowed and picked their way up and down hills. Aidan watched Daniel worriedly as they moved. He was slumped forward; only Garrett’s hand wrapped around his middle kept him from spilling to the ground again. As they rode, the sky began to lighten.
As they crested one rise, Aidan saw faint squares of light spread out below. Tarion, the second largest city in Torel. They hurried down and approached the city’s gate. In a tower above the gate, two Wardsmen glanced down before ducking away. The gate opened.
“Our friend is ill,” Garrett explained as the Wardsmen greeted them. Aidan clutched his hood to hold it in place against the wind. “The Fisherman’s Pond has vacancy,” a Wardsman shouted.
He pointed and started to give directions.
“We know the place,” Garrett said. “Thank you.”
The Wardsmen nodded and hurried to close the gate and return to the warmth of the gatehouse.
Christine dug her boots into her horse’s flanks and set off after Garrett, who was already trotting through the gate. Aidan looked around. Thick layers of ice and snow coated tiled rooftops. Their horses kicked up snow as they went along, revealing patches of smooth, paved road that the snow buried almost as soon as they passed. The buildings were made of wood and stone, evidence of stout Darinian craftsmanship. Riding close to one, Aidan glanced at a parchment flapping in the wind and drew his hood tighter. The parchment showed his face, mouth curled in a snarl and eyebrows drawn down. Below the menacing portrait was a very large number.
Rewards, he thought. They’re looking for me. Heritage did not respond.
They came to a stable set next to a wide, brightly lit building. Even before the party had dismounted, two stable hands came running up. Aidan and Garrett carefully lifted Daniel from the saddle, each slinging one of his arms over their shoulders. Garrett tipped the workers and led the party through the door of the Fisherman’s Pond.
Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles Page 16
