Aidan found the atmosphere far more promising than the Hornet’s Nest. A broad, white-washed stone fireplace was carved into the tanned granite wall at the end of the common room. Snapping flames emitted a warm glow. Chairs adorned the spacious room. A portly woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun polished mugs behind the bar as they approached.
“Welcome to the Fisherman’s...” She blinked and leaned forward, squinting, then set down the glass and beamed. “The Lady hold me close, is that you, Christine?” She rushed out from behind the counter.
“Hello, Martha,” Christine said. The last syllable was a grunt; the larger woman had wrapped meaty arms around her in a bear hug. Aidan instantly took a liking to her. Her voice boomed but was motherly at the same time. That, as well as her bear-like size, reminded him of Helda.
“So sorry, dear,” Martha said before turning to crush Garrett. “It’s been ages, you two.” Noticing Daniel, her cheery smile abruptly vanished. “The Lord of Midnight’s got his claws in that one. We’ve four rooms upstairs. Get him up there. I’ll send after a healer.”
—You will tend to him.
Aidan blinked. Me? I don’t know anything about healing. That was not entirely true, he amended, thinking back to the night he had broken the stained-glass window. Tyrnen and his mother had taught him the basics, just enough to heal minor wounds on the battlefield should a healer not be present. Daniel’s sickness was much worse than a cut. His face was ashen, and he shivered almost hard enough to pull Aidan and Garrett to the floor.
—I will guide you, Heritage said. Call off the healer.
All right...
“We won’t need a healer,” Aidan said.
Christine, Martha, and Garrett looked at him in surprise. Keeping his head low, Aidan continued, “I can look after him.”
“Are you a Touched, then?” Martha asked, trying rather obviously to peer beneath his hood.
“How much do we owe you?” Garrett asked, grabbing Martha’s attention.
“Nothing at all,” the innkeeper said, and waved off the siblings’ protests. “I won’t hear another word about it. Now get your friend upstairs.”
They guided Daniel into a room and eased him onto a bed. Aidan sat beside Daniel while Christine and Garrett watched from behind him.
What do I do first?
—Ask them to leave. They might see the sword. You will need it.
Clearing his throat, he turned to the siblings. “Would you give me a few minutes?”
Garrett glanced at Christine, but his sister nodded. “We’ll be right outside,” she said. The door closed behind them.
—Grip the hilt of the sword and touch Daniel with your other hand.
He complied.
—You’ll need all the light stored up in that necklace of yours.
Aidan pulled the lamp out from underneath his shirt.
—Kindle the light, but keep a grip on it.
He did as she asked then sat waiting. Several moments passed.
—Good. Now, one hand on the sword, one on your friend.
Again, he did as he asked. “What now?” he asked—and gasped as a surge of energy flooded through him and poured from his hand and into the Eye, which bloomed a fiery pink like the Lady’s first light. Once again he was overwhelmed by a presence, but not his grandfather’s. The hand that guided his was soft, small, and smelled of freshly cut flowers. Under his hand, he felt Daniel’s skin grow cool. He watched in amazement as Daniel’s breathing evened out and lost its grating hoarseness.
The energy cut off. Gasping, he rocked on his heels. The sensation had been incredible. At first, it had been like wielding Ordine’kel: techniques he had never even known or thought of were suddenly as simple as breathing. But unlike after releasing ’kel, he held a glimmer of understanding after the fact. He had drawn light, passed it to Heritage, and the sword had kindled. More astonishing was that he mostly understood what it had done. He didn’t think he could do it again without another lesson— maybe two—but the basics were clear.
—Through Heritage, the sword-bearer has access to the knowledge of his or her ancestors, the sword explained in answer to his unspoken question. Those with ‘cin have access to centuries of arcane knowledge, much of which is unknown outside of your bloodline. The same is true for ’kel, which, as we have discussed, is how you are able to wield it.
For several moments, Aidan reeled at the staggering amount of magic available to him. Summoning fire from the sword back in the cave felt different, though.
—It was. Simple spells, such as a bit of fire, can pass through the Eye. It was crafted from the Lady’s light, after all. More complex spells, like the one used just now, require the swordbearer to kindle and pass the light to the sword. One of your ancestors knowledgeable in the necessary spell took the reins from there.
Aidan grew curious. Who? Then: Let me guess. Not yet?
—I knew you’d catch on eventually.
Aidan studied Daniel. When will he awaken?
—Like herbs and tonics, healing requires lots of rest to do its work.
Biting his lip, he looked out the frosted window. Dim rays from the Lady glinted against ice and glass. The wind continued to howl. There’s no way he can go back out in this.
—Nor can you afford to expose yourself to the elements. One cannot heal oneself, Aidan. Though we haven’t time to spare, Daniel should rest at least until this evening, as should you.
But the vagrants are probably still following me.
—Most likely, yet this is a large city. It will not be so easy to track you down as it was in the village. Rest here while you can, but be prepared to move on tonight.
The door cracked open. Garrett stuck his head in. “How is he?”
“He will recover,” Aidan said with a small smile. He blinked as weariness weighted his eyelids.
“You look as if you could do with some rest yourself,” Garrett said. “But first, we should talk.”
Aidan pulled the blankets up to Daniel’s chin and followed Garrett to another room. Christine smiled at Aidan as he entered and took a seat on the bed beside her.
“Before we discuss anything,” Aidan said, “thank you for saving our lives.”
“Not at all,” Garrett said, leaning back against the wall. “Christine came bounding into my room with a shout, saying she had just seen a young man she’d met earlier running straight for the forest as though Kahltan himself was after him.”
Aidan wanted to ask why the siblings had been watching them in the common room, but decided against it. They had, after all, proved to be worthwhile companions. “We were being pursued,” he explained. “The creatures that were after us...” He hesitated. “They’re called vagrants.”
“Vagrants?” Christine said with a frown.
“Yes. They’re...” He hesitated, then decided to tell the siblings what he knew. They had risked their lives to help him. It was only fair that they know what they were up against. “Well, as I understand it, they’re corpses of Sallnerians from the Serpent War. They want to kill me.” He barked a laugh and shook his head. “I know it must sound strange, but it’s true.”
“We believe you,” Garrett said. “After some of the things we’ve seen...” He shivered. “Why are they after you?”
“I don’t know,” Aidan said, straight-faced. He didn’t want to lie to his new friends, but the fewer people who knew who he was, the better. “What were those shadow creatures?”
“Whispers,” Christine answered, and it was her turn to shudder. “Shadows given life from dark magic. They make your worst nightmare seem a fond, peaceful dream.”
Unless they inhabit your dreams, Aidan thought. “How did you know their weakness?”
“A few years ago,” she began, “Garrett and I were performing at a small tavern about ten leagues from here. Near the end of our show, a man came tearing through the door, shouting and carrying on about shadows that had stalked him through the streets. He babbled something about how the sha
dows seemed to fear fire, but that he had dropped his torch in his haste to escape.”
She shook her head. “A few of the men bought him a drink and tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t have any of it. He was hysterical. The innkeeper managed to slip a bit of powder into his drink, just enough to calm him, and when he realized why he was feeling so tired he really threw a fit. The men dragged him upstairs to an empty room. We kept hearing him shout down the stairs for a torch, a candle, anything he could use to ‘keep the whispers away,’ as he said. One of the men couldn’t take the yelling any longer and gave the poor man a candle to keep by his bedside. After a while he quieted down, and we all assumed he had finally drifted off to sleep.
“We were awakened by shouts in the middle of the night. The innkeeper was pounding on doors, yelling that there was a fire. We ran outside, and everyone was accounted for except the man who had come in earlier. As we looked up at his window, the glass smashed, and he peered out with a mad grin on his face. We begged him to get out of the building, insisting that the flames would eat him alive, but he refused.”
Christine swallowed. “Before he disappeared back into the blaze he leaned out and yelled, ‘The fire keeps the whispers away’.” Her tale quieted the room for a time.
“You look exhausted,” Garrett said, breaking the silence. “Feel free to sleep as long as you like. There won’t be much happening with this storm going on.”
Aidan nodded, his head heavy as he rose from the bed. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you again,” he said, and shambled to his room. He could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled around undressing, but a question nagged at him.
“Have you ever seen a whisper before?”
—I have not. It is fortunate your new friends were familiar with them. What do you think of Garrett and Christine, by the way?
Aidan considered. “They saved our lives.”
—Christine seems especially friendly, don’t you think?
“She does indeed.” A lopsided smile curved his lips. Especially for a Sallnerian. Instantly he felt ashamed. Christine had been nothing but kind to him. Dawn burn me, she saved my life. I shouldn’t think of her like—
A soft knock sounded on his door, and before he could answer, Christine stepped into the room. The silk nightgown clinging to her body was almost entirely translucent, leaving little to Aidan’s suddenly active imagination. A silver chain wrapped around her waist slid along her curves as she sauntered toward him. Her bare feet padded softly against the wooden floor. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.
—You might want to cover up.
Aidan scrunched his face at the suggestion, too transfixed to immediately comprehend.
—Look down, ‘Thomas’.
He managed to tear his eyes away from Christine long enough to glance at his lap. His undergarments stared back at him. Flushing, he clawed at the sheets and hastily covered his lower body. Christine came to rest in front of him.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said softly.
“Oh, no, you—that is, I wasn’t, uh... It’s nothing.”
Her eyes sparkled as she gave him a small smile. “I heard you talking from outside.”
“I was just, ah—I was talking to myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Just repeating your story to myself. That poor man.”
She sighed as she sat down next to him. “I’ll never forget that,” she said. “We lost sight of you after we ran out of the inn, and when I looked toward the woods, I saw nothing but darkness, darkness that seemed to be moving inward. I heard your cries, and...”
Shrugging, she slowly crossed her legs. The bottom hem of her nightdress slowly retreated up her leg, revealing skin as white as snow as she leaned back on her palms. “If I ever had any doubts about that story, they were dispelled when I looked into those woods tonight. I somehow knew that the darkness I saw was what that man had described.”
Aidan concentrated on looking her in the eyes. His gaze kept wanting to slip downward. Giggling, Christine uncrossed her legs and rose from the bed to make her way back to the hall. As she pulled the door closed, she let her upper torso hang out of the partially open portal. The nightgown drooped forward to reveal shapely pale skin.
“I’d better let you get some rest,” she said, and the dazzling smile was set back in its place.
Barely able to swallow, Aidan nodded.
“Sleep well,” she whispered. The door clicked shut behind her. —Subtle, that one.
Aidan sank back into the mattress. For this first time since leaving home, he let his thoughts meander down softer, much more pleasant trails than danger and death.
—Sleep for now, Heritage broke in. Our journey should resume tonight.
Chapter 20
Fork in the Road
AIDAN SHUFFLED INTO THE inn’s private dining room shortly after noontime.
“Awake at last,” Garrett said.
“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” Aidan said, smiling at Christine as she pulled out the chair next to her. He had enjoyed a sleep free of dreams. The fever was almost gone. He felt better than he had in days, and had actually woken up an hour earlier to scrub and polish the armor his father had given him before going to find his friends.
Across from his sister, Garrett tipped his chair back to prop against the wall, hands laced behind his head. Daniel sat next to him, his red hair ruffled as if he’d rolled out of bed at the first scent of the platters of roasted bird, freshly baked rolls slick with butter, steaming vegetables, and pumpkin cake that covered the tabletop. Aidan wouldn’t have been surprised; that same glorious mixture of food had snared him like a fish on a hook and reeled him downstairs.
Heavy wind buffeted the windowpanes on either side wall, rattling the glass. Flames in the hearth at the end of the room rose higher as if in defiance of the cold.
“I was beginning to think I’d have to eat your share,” Daniel said with a small smile. His voice was fuller than it had been, though his eyes drooped and his face was still pale.
“Good thing I got here in time,” Aidan said. He picked up his plate and looked around at the dishes, unsure where to start. His stomach whined impatiently, but he hesitated.
“I can’t pay you for our rooms, or this meal. I can’t possibly accept this.”
Daniel looked across at him with a guilty expression as a chunk of steaming carrot dropped from his chin onto his empty plate.
Garrett waved a hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. Christine and I wanted to treat our new friends to a fine meal.” He gestured to the food. “I insist.”
“Far be it for me to refuse such a kind gesture,” Aidan said, grinning. He leaned over the table and scooped up heaps of anything and everything. Stabbing a piece of bird, he took a bite and sighed as he chewed.
“This meal is just an appetizer compared to what Martha’s crew is preparing for dinner,” Garrett went on. “Christine and I insisted on performing tonight in exchange for the free room and board. My sister has told you about Spectacle, yes? I think you’ll both enjoy what we have planned.”
Christine gave her brother a level stare that Aidan did not notice.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but we’ll be leaving tonight.”
The room went quiet. Christine picked at her food, and Daniel set down his fork before glancing at Aidan.
Garrett cleared his throat. “You might want to think about staying here.”
“Why is that?” Daniel asked.
Garrett gestured to the windows. “The storm doesn’t show any sign of letting up, and you, my friend, are in no condition to brave it.”
Just as Aidan was preparing to decline, Heritage wriggled into his thoughts.
—I suggest staying through dinner. Your friend is right: Daniel could use a bit more rest. Besides, the storm might diminish over the next few hours.
A strong desire to put as m
uch distance between him and the vagrants made Aidan shove down rising anxiety. “I’ll give the storm a few hours,” he said, forcing a smile.
Daniel blinked at him in surprise. Aidan shook his head slightly.
“It’s settled, then!” Garrett said. He raised his cup. “If I may propose a toast?” His three companions raised their drinks. “To friendship.”
“To friendship,” they echoed, bringing the wooden cups together with a clack.
Aidan raised the cup to his lips and held it there. I want to keep moving tonight, storm or not.
—Agreed.
What about Daniel?
—Advise him to rest. You may have to continue on without him. He will be safe here.
Continue to where? Predictably, Heritage did not respond.
Aidan took a hearty swallow and lowered his cup. “You should get some more sleep,” he said to Daniel. “I’d like to leave early this evening if possible.”
The siblings shared a glance. Garrett stood and stretched. “I’m going to go pay my compliments to Martha, and then I do believe I’ll take a nap. Perfect weather for a doze.”
“I’m going to change into something warmer,” Christine said, rising. “Will you be down here when I return, Thomas? Perhaps we could talk.”
“I’d like that,” Aidan said, then felt his face flush at the enthusiasm in his voice. He did need to be moving on, but a little extra time with Christine wasn’t anything to complain about.
Christine bounded into her room and sifted through her travel trunk. Her outfit should be practical, yet pleasing to the eye... to Thomas’s eye, especially. Deciding on a tan blouse and skirt, Christine changed. She brushed at her blouse, straightening it so it rested just so against her body—then stopped when she caught sight of her Cinder Band in the mirror’s reflection.
Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles Page 17
