“So this green light,” Daniel began.
“Magic,” Christine said, nodding. “An artificial twilight that lasts for eternity.”
“You sure know a lot about Sallner,” Daniel said.
“I’ve read the texts, that’s all.”
“And you’re Sallnerian,” Daniel pointed out.
“You noticed.” She was smiling.
“What’s this like for you?” Daniel asked. “Walking through these ruins? Is it... I don’t know. Do you feel anything?”
Despite his desire to keep his anger at Christine stoked nice and hot, Aidan found himself looking over at her, curious. He had never interacted much with Sallnerians. They made their way to court infrequently, preferring, he supposed, to stick to their camps on the Territory Bridge and the isolated homes they made among the other three realms.
Christine was silent for several minutes. “It’s like...” She twisted her head to look this way and that, taking in the gutted structures, the shards of glass that threw glints of the false light back at them, the piles of charred white stone. “Like walking through someone else’s memories. Or like walking through pages of history texts. I have read accounts of Sallner, and have learned about their—my, I should say—architecture, habits, and so forth. But those are just words, the same words you, Aidan, and anyone else who didn’t live here eight hundred years ago would read.”
Her mouth twisted. “Also, most of the accounts dwell on the Serpent’s War, and reveal little of what the south did before that.”
“Attempting to overthrow neighboring realms tends to stick with a people,” Aidan said.
“Eight-hundred-year-old history,” Christine shot back. “The Sallnerians alive today took no part in the Thalamahns’ dark experiments.”
Daniel glanced nervously between them.
“Torel’s Ward is always putting down insurrections at the Territory Bridge,” Aidan said. “For all we know, you snakes are getting ready for another revolt.”
Aidan regretted the slur the moment it left his lips. Christine went pale. She threw Daniel’s arm away and spun on Aidan, inches from his face.
“Garrett and I were born and raised on the Bridge,” Christine said, her voice quiet and shaky. “My father is Torelian, and a Touched. He dreamed of doing great things, as men do, but my mother was plain and sickly, and Sallnerian. He couldn’t possibly take a snake out into the world, could he? So we stayed there, a family of four crammed into a little Torelian hut, one in a neat line of huts bunched shoulder to shoulder along dirt roads. Those insurrections you speak of were not insurrections. Fights broke out over food because large families such as mine received small rations along with any food adults able to find work could bring home.
“My father could have left us, but he didn’t. He wanted to, I think. But he didn’t. He found what work he could as a scholar before he moved on to... to better things. He took us away from the Bridge, but not before my mother died. She was sick, but the healers don’t visit the Bridge very often. Did you know that, Aidan Gairden, Guardian Light of Crotaria? Your people to the south deserve equal treatment, but you have more important people to save.”
“I... We didn’t...” Aidan swallowed. For some reason he found himself at a loss for words.
“The Gairdens are supposed to protect all of Crotaria’s people—north, east, west, and south. And that is what we are, Aidan. Sallnerians are not snakes, just as Darinians are not the wild animals drawn on their bodies. We are people. And we are your people. Anastasia Thalamahn is your matriarch. The blood of snakes slithers through your veins, too. Or had you forgotten? But you think what you want. Do what you want. That is your way.”
Wiping away tears, she ducked back underneath Daniel’s arm and pressed on, practically dragging the two men in her wake.
Chapter 30
Ralda’s Inn
SILENCE WRAPPED AROUND THEM, cold and uncomfortable. Three hours later, Aidan led Daniel and Christine through the curtain of dead vines and through the mouth of the cave to the tunnel below. Daniel pointed out the V-in-a-V, the key that would take them to the cave where they had taken shelter what seemed like years ago. He pointed out others even closer, several within Calewind and on Sunfall’s grounds. Aidan heard the whispers that formed the words to the Language of Light, but he remembered the prayer he needed. Reaching across Daniel’s back to touch Christine, Aidan darkened using the inky night flowing through the veins in the walls and fast-traveled to the waypoint where they would have emerged had they followed the passage beneath Sunfall’s east courtyard to a hub. The tunnel was plugged with rocks.
“Can you blast through it?” Daniel asked. They were the first words spoken since Christine’s outburst.
“I could, but that would give us away, I think,” Aidan said.
Daniel stepped away from Aidan and Christine to lean against the wall. “All the tunnels in and around Calewind are probably blocked off,” he said, knuckling his back. “Our best bet besides returning to that inn in Tarion—”
“Which we should assume Tyrnen also blocked,” Aidan said.
“—is a little village that sits on the border between Leaston and Torel. It’s not ideal, I know,” he said over Aidan’s objection, “but at least it will get us out of this light-forsaken darkness so you can get back to shifting us across the continent.”
Aidan glanced at Christine. She stood with her back to him, making a careful inspection of the threads of shadow running along the walls.
“That will do fine,” Aidan said.
Silently, Christine ducked under Daniel’s arm and stared straight ahead. Aidan went to Daniel’s other side and hesitated. Words arranged in pleasantly humble configurations—pleasant to
Christine—danced on his tongue, but he couldn’t get them to take the plunge. Apologies rarely set sail from the lips of Leastonian traders, the saying went—a saying fashioned by Leastonians, so he didn’t think they would mind.
The long walk down to the tunnels had given him plenty of time to reflect on his exchange with Christine, and to realize, begrudgingly at first, that she had been right. People were people, be they from Torel, or Sallner, or far beyond Crotaria’s borders. Calling a Sallnerian a snake was not viewed as severely as labeling a Darinian a wildlander, even though it should be.
But the slur itself was not even the worst part. He had been angry with her, with Garrett, with Tyrnen, with so many people. With himself. So he had fashioned a whip from words and raw emotion and lashed out, not looking to engage in any intelligent, adult discourse, but to cut her, and cut her deep. It was a regression, he admitted, a return to the childish, petulant brat of a boy that had punched a window and stung his mother with hurtful words the night a talking sword had embarrassed him in front of thousands of people. That Aidan seemed a different person, one who had no place in this Aidan’s life.
“Should we go ahead without you?” Christine asked, slouching under Daniel’s long arm.
Aidan swallowed the apology. This was not the right time.
They returned to the waypoint and turned around and around until they found the key Daniel was looking for, an inverted “Y” between two lines, about halfway up one wall. By the time Daniel reached the tunnel opening, his clothes were soaked in sweat. Aidan gave him some time to catch his breath then gathered Daniel and Christine to him, bracing for the icy touch of Kahltan’s shadows. To his surprise, they did not freeze his bones this time. He had found light magic stifling at first, too. Perhaps he was simply getting used to the feel of shade in his veins.
Following the tunnel dropped them at the mouth of a cave deep in a copse of birches. Aidan tipped his head back and smiled, letting the Lady caress his face. He had been too long without daylight. They eased Daniel down onto a patch of dirt and leaves, one of many holes in the carpet of snow. Aidan gripped Heritage with one hand and placed the other on Daniel’s chest.
Grandfather?
—Yes, Aidan?
I need some healing m
agic. Could one of you...?
—I can help, Aidan, Anastasia said. Draw in light and pray. I will take care of the rest.
Aidan soaked up the Lady’s rays and passed them to the sword. Heritage held them for a moment before pushing the light back to Aidan. As before, the light felt changed, like how his father could take slabs of steel and shape them into weapons and tools. Had been able to. Aidan spoke a prayer and felt the light flush out through his fingers. Daniel gasped and stiffened, then sighed and slumped back in relief as his cuts knit closed and his bruises faded away.
Standing, Aidan pulled Daniel to his feet. Daniel stretched, danced a quick jig.
“That’s something, all right,” he said, running his hands along his face and chest, cautiously at first, then prodding harder and grinning. “Thank you, Your Princeliness.”
—He’ll need to take it easy, Anastasia said. He may feel fine, but healing works much like herbs and salves, just a little faster: he still needs plenty of bed rest and fluids to make a full recovery.
Aidan repeated her words. Daniel gave one last spin and bowed deeply. “As His Princeliness requests.”
Christine looked at Aidan in amazement. “You studied healing?”
“No. My grandmother did.” When she frowned in confusion, he said, “Anastasia. She supplies the spell, I supply the light.”
“Tell her I appreciate it,” Daniel said.
Aidan glanced at the sword for several moments, then raised an eyebrow. “Grandfather Charles says he’d like to know what happened to the flagon of Leastonian Red he kept in his cabinet around the time we were eleven years old.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Daniel said quickly. He turned, getting his bearings, and pointed through the screen of trees. “The border into Torel is about a day’s walk that way. The village I mentioned, Sordia, is the closest to the border. I presume you’d like to let the Lady’s light whisk us away?”
“Actually, I thought we’d walk for a bit,” Aidan said, stealing a glance at Christine. “You could use some fresh air.”
Daniel followed Aidan’s gaze. “You know, I think a bit of walking would do me good,” he said loudly, throwing Aidan an obvious wink. Aidan resisted the urge to groan.
“I’ll just lead the way, shall I?” Daniel went on. He walked up to a tree, snapped off a branch, poked at the ground, then nodded, satisfied, and leaned on his new-found walking stick.
“Let’s stay off the main road,” Aidan said.
They started off, Daniel walking a good distance ahead. Christine started after him and Aidan hustled to walk beside her. Silence stretched out for several long minutes as Aidan considered and summarily dismissed elaborate, heartfelt apologies. Finally he scrapped them all and let the right words tumble out.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Christine looked over at him. “I shouldn’t have called you... what I called you,” he pressed on. “It was childish and cruel. A lot has happened to me since my birthday, and I like to think those experiences have made me a better person.” He wanted to explain, to share those experiences with her, but thought she might interpret them as rationalizations. He swallowed the words. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
He kept his eyes on the road before daring to look up at her. Slowly, like the Lady breaking through clouds after a rainstorm, her face grew warmer.
“Forgiven,” she said simply. They walked on, standing a little closer. When Christine tentatively reached for his hand, Aidan pulled away.
“I’m still very angry with you,” he said.
She nodded. “I know. And I understand.” She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Ahead, Daniel whistled an old Torelian tavern song. Birds flitted through branches and sang their pleasure at returning home after the long winter. Aidan blinked. Around him, dirt and grass popped through snow like holes in a white blanket. Winter was over, and spring was settling over the lower regions of the north. He thought back to the snow and ice that had covered Calewind’s streets and rooftops like icing on a birthday cake. Had so much time really passed?
“Is there anything I can do?” Christine asked. “To make amends,” she explained when he looked at her with a puzzled frown.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “How much of what you’ve told me, of who you are, is the truth?”
“Most,” she said. “I trained at the Lion’s Den. The Spectacle is real, but it is a cover. We are bounty hunters. Chasing thieves and brigands across Crotaria paid for most of my education.”
“I was an assignment, then?”
“At first,” she said, and her voice sounded pained. “We were summoned to Sunfall to speak with the Eternal Flame. Tyrnen asked us to bring you home. He said that you were guilty of treason.”
“So you work for him?”
“I did. We followed you and Daniel north. When we met up with you at the Hornet’s Nest, it was fortunate that we were able to save you from getting attacked.”
Aidan thought back to his and Daniel’s desperate flight from the vagrants and whispers that had attacked the Nest, and the fortuitous appearance of Christine and her brother. “The Sallnerians and the whispers. Were they with you?”
“No.”
He nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“The night you left, Tyrnen came to the Fisherman’s Pond. We followed your trail into Sallner and stopped at the Duskwood. Going through was...” She shivered. “Once we left that dreadful darkness, we emerged in the vale. Tyrnen told us to wait outside with Daniel. He went inside the cabin, and for a short time, everything was quiet. Then these terrible sounds came from inside the cabin. They sounded like... like meat being torn apart.”
She shuddered and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Aidan was looking at her, his face horrified.
“What is it?” she asked.
“An old woman lived there, in the cabin,” he finally said.
“In the vale?”
“Yes. Tyrnen killed her. She was... my friend.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
Neither said anything for a time. Earth and rocks poked through slushy snow. Small buildings in the distance squatted at the foot of a hill.
“Why didn’t Tyrnen take Heritage with him?” he asked.
“He gave it to Garrett to look after because he knew you would come for it. It was bait.” She shook her head angrily. “Garrett did not take much convincing, I’m afraid.”
“He is your brother. Don’t you care what becomes of him?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “And... no. He has always had a cruel streak, though never toward me. I still care for Garrett—he is my brother—but I don’t believe Garrett feels much affection for me. Forming Spectacle and chasing after bounties was his idea; I went along with it because I had no one else, no other plans. My magic provided him a life of warm beds, good food, and some small renown. Now he has Tyrnen, and his dependence on me has ended.”
They drew near the tall wooden walls of the village. To their surprise, the gate stood open. Daniel leaned on the wall to one side, arms crossed, one foot back against the wall. Aidan pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. Tugging at either corner of his cloak, he covered the sheathed weapons at his waist.
“This is Sordia,” Daniel said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder when they joined him. “I’ve paid our way in.” He leaned closer. “If they ask, we’re road-weary travelers in need of a good bed and a warm meal.” At that, his stomach gave a mewling growl.
“Which is true,” he added.
“What is your plan?” Christine asked Aidan.
“We’re going to stop here so Daniel can recuperate. I’ve done what I can, but he needs rest.” He paused. “You can go wherever you wish from here, I guess.”
Before she could answer, he started through the gate. They passed small but sturdy buildings topped with slanted black roofs. Clumps of dirty snow clung to the sides of the roads like wisps of hair on a balding head.
“I’ll pay for Daniel’s
room,” Christine said, coming to walk beside Aidan.
“Thank you,” Daniel said from Aidan’s other side. “My purse has shed almost as much extra skin as I have.”
“And I would like to talk to you before you leave,” Christine said to Aidan. “There are matters between us that need settling.”
He started to object, but her mouth was set. Her eyes dared him to argue.
“Fine,” he said. They stopped before a large, two-level building built from oak. The walls bore deep, rippled circles. A sign proclaiming Ralda’s Inn hung over the entrance. Inside, a fire crackled in a stone hearth along the far wall. The oak’s dark coloring made Aidan feel as if he had just stepped into a cozy tree. A slight, short-haired woman served drinks to a group of men sitting around the fire before she bustled over to them.
“I’m Ralda,” she said with a pleasant smile that dipped into a frown as she looked Daniel up and down. “I’ll dispense with the pleasantries, sir. You look like you could do with a week’s worth of sleep.”
“We need two rooms, please,” Christine said.
Daniel whispered something in Christine’s ear. She gave him a steady look and sighed. “And a tankard of your finest drink.”
“Ale on the tongue soothes like the sounds of the sea,” Ralda said, winking at Daniel.
“I think I love her,” he whispered to Aidan.
“You can have two rooms at the end of the hall,” Ralda continued.
“Those will be fine,” Christine assured her. “I’ll be back to pay you once we’re settled.”
“Very good,” Ralda said, squinting at Aidan’s face hidden in the shadows of his cloak. He bowed his head lower, nearly touching his chin to his chest.
“Come on,” he mumbled.
They moved quickly down the hall and settled Daniel in one of the open rooms.
“Your ale is on the way,” Aidan told him. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Only your fine company and finer wit, my fair prince.”
Ralda entered with a soft knock, setting a tankard and three mugs on the nightstand near the bed before fixing Aidan with another scrutinizing look. Christine opened her purse and placed half a dozen Torelian crowns in the innkeeper’s hands. Ralda stared wide-eyed at the coins, suddenly no longer interested in Aidan at all. She bobbed her head and closed the door behind her. Daniel stretched out on the bed and watched her go. “I think I’m feeling better.”
Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles Page 25
