Winter's Sword

by Alexandra Little

  “I would have words with you, my lady,” Aerik said quietly.

  That was a very bad sign. “And you shall have them, but not now. Soon,” I added hastily when I saw the anger burn brighter in his eyes. “I promise.”

  “Is a promise worth much these days?”

  Tears threatened at that one.

  “That was low,” Firien said.

  “I have not finished with you yet, either,” Aerik replied.

  Annel nudged my hand, and I scratched at her head before she and Dhreo ran ahead of us, back to Tal Anor. Dalandaras pushed me gently. Right; I was the Lady now, and needed to lead. “Are you both well?” I asked as confidently as I could.

  “We are,” Aerik replied.

  “Somewhat,” Firien said at the same time.

  I could guess at who suffered the most in the cold. Firien was leaner, but still looked as if he could spring into any combat that was required of him.

  “We can wait until we have words,” I said. “Or you can tell me now. It’s your choice.”

  “Do not think your Lady can compel me.”

  “The Lady was not asking.”

  “You do not see it, do you?” Firien asked.

  “That Aerik hasn’t feared well?” I asked. “Or that I have jeopardized the relationship between you to?”

  “We do not have access to mirrors,” Dalandaras replied.

  My lover could understand them, and I could not? “Somebody had better explain,” I commanded.

  “When we are back at Tal Anor,” Dalandaras said quietly. “Look at your face in the water.”

  “If you’re going to speak in riddles, it would be better entirely to keep your peace.”

  They took my advice, and followed behind me in silence, until we came to Tal Anor and the mist had cleared entirely.

  “The river is not frozen over,” Aerik murmured. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  The last time I had come this way, we had sailed up it. I longed for sails and a breeze again, aided by elf magic. My legs were not burning with the effort of making their way through the snow pack, but I knew Aerik’s would be, if not Firien’s.

  “And the current is slower than it was when we first came this way,” Dalandaras replied.

  I hadn’t noticed either. But the old magic would not let it freeze over, not when she was sheltering humans at Tal Anor. Not when I was sheltering humans at Tal Anor. What else had changed? I hadn’t paid attention. But with Dalandaras’ cryptic comment, now I would.

  The river widened, and turned into the lake. Farther along down the left side of the beach was the old ruins. When I had first seen them, they had evoked something close to dread. Now they teemed with life again, with smoke curling into the sky from several places inside the ruins themselves and along the beach. The trees that were scattered around were leafless and looked dead, but the old magic and threaded through them once more and, come spring, they would come alive. The mountains on the side of the town were sheer and tall, and it would be near impossible for a mortal enemy to get through. Adhanel had built her own palace of stone deep into those mountains; I wasn’t sure whether the humans’ instinct for survival kept them from those passageways, or whether it was the Lady. The only reason I wanted to keep the humans from them was that they were Adhanel’s tomb.

  “The horses survived the journey?” Aerik exclaimed. “And you’ve taken some brutehaulers. And Lord Baradan made it. But is that Captain Ehledrath? What’s happened?”

  “Would you tell him?” I asked Dalandaras. “I feel some dreadwolves calling for my attention,” I lied, but turned away before any of them could protest, or ask to come with. My foulings followed, their ears pricked but not for any howl of the dreadwolves. My foulings knew I had lied. I headed back to the mouth of the river, where ruin rocks were sitting only inch or two below the surface I hopped my way to the other beach, my boots breaking through the thin ice and turning the sand and dirt to slush beneath them.

  The trees were thick on this side, the mountains jagged but not as sheer as they were by the town. The lake swung wide here, and if I had wanted to walk its entire length it would take me into the night to do so.

  Where was the sun? I glanced up through the twist of branches, and found it starting to hang low. Good.

  I walked along the shoreline, the foulings flanking me. I looked for an unbroken patch of ice on the water, something strong enough that could hold my weight without cracking. I found a spot that looked promising, the ice spreading clean and smooth over the water, uninterrupted by a stray rock or root.

  “Stay here,” I murmured to the foulings, and stepped out onto the ice.

  It didn’t crack, or sink, or even move. I stepped out far enough that I could no longer see the shadows of the bottom of the lake.

  The sun dipped below the mountains, casting the whole lake into shadow. As Dalandaras said to do, I looked at my reflection.

  It was me, true enough. Same coat, same boots, my breath puffing out in a cloud in both the air and reflection. But my skin was not my own. The tan of the human nearly gone. It was almost the ethereal of an elf’s skin, but illuminated with the darkness of the old magic. My hair was tangled and wild, flowing about me untamed. My eyes…

  I knelt slowly, and leaned close. My eyes held the souls of all that I commanded now; the souls of Annel and Dhreo, of the nameless collosi, of the elves that had fallen in battle, the soul of Zarah. I could even see my mother looking back out at me, the happiness she had when alive and the sadness she had now that she was dead.

  For a moment, just a moment only, I could see Adhanel’s five-pronged crown sitting on my head, and felt its heaviness on my brow.

  My breath caught and I pulled away, falling back onto the ice. It cracked beneath me, and I scrambled back to the shore, landing against a tree trunk. Annel and Dhreo came to me instantly, circling around me and whimpering. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. The cold of the air pierced me now, and I pulled my foulings close.

  Any illusions I had that I would be able to reclaim myself from the Lady shattered then. I buried my face into Annel’s neck, and cried.

  The pity came and went with the tears. There was no more time for that now. Now, I had to plan. I had to think.

  I forced myself to stand. I was weightless; as quick as the cold had come over me, it passed, and now I couldn’t even feel the breeze.

  I turned back to the encampment at Tal Anor and reached it with speed. Plans ran circles in my head, thoughts about fortifications and supplies, about how to maintain the settlement here. The Lady couldn’t rule over everything.

  The bonfires on the beach were newly stoked when I came back to them, shining orange and bright against the shadows of the night. It was still early yet, and the Winter’s Crown refugees seemed to be keeping to their own time. Many were gutting fish on the beach or making themselves useful in other ways. As I approached, I could hear talk of cutting trees for boats, so that they could travel farther upriver.

  I saw Father and Dalandaras and all the others I needed among the crowds at the bonfire. I didn’t know how to lead a city, or a town, or even a band of worn-down humans like the ones I saw before me. But I had commanded ships.

  I needed a captain.

  “Lord Baradan,” I called.

  I had not meant to use the Lady, but the decision, once I made it, seemed to have a life of its own. Everyone seemed to hear the deepness to the tone, seemed to react to it.

  “My lady?” my father asked, his face calm and blank as he separated himself from the others.

  “You have command of Tal Anor.”

  He bowed his head in supplication.

  “The colossi can help move stone; plan and build what fortifications you need. I suggest you take Tiri as your aide.”

  The young lady was there as well, bobbed a quick curtsy, her eyes wide.

  “Captain Ehledrath,” I said.

  “Captain no longer,” Ehledrath replied.

  “Consider it restored,”
I said. “I need you to organize a defense of this place. We are strong on this west side, but the east is wanting. Bardol.”

  He stepped forward. “Lady?”

  “How much black powder to you have?”

  He scratched his chin, which had a good growth of beard on it since I had seen him in Winter’s Crown. “Enough to mount a good defense, my lady, but not enough to move mountains, if that’s what you intend.”

  I intended to do both. “What do you need to make more?”

  “Sulfur,” he replied. “Coal, and saltpeter.”

  “We have sulfur aplenty in the mountains,” I said. “Firien—can you help with the coal and saltpeter?”

  The elf nodded.

  My mind was swimming again. What else was there. “Lorandal, can you assist with food? I know we brought stores, but it would be best if we learned how to feed our crew before we run out.”

  “Is there enough in this dead place?” Bardol asked. “Beyond snow rabbits and fish?”

  “There are things aplenty,” Lorandal replied. “Even in winter. They are easy to find and grow, once you know what to do.”

  “And make sure that they all have basic training in tending wounds,” I added. What else? Adhanel’s tomb, I decided. “Where are Tunir and Iasul?”

  “Boys,” Ehledrath called, and they came, their faces red with the bite of the air. They both met my eyes, but cowered from what they saw there. Those friendships were gone as well, it seemed. But if I still had their loyalty, it would not matter.

  “How do you feel about exploring the ruins again?” I asked.

  “I’d have an objection,” Ehledrath interjected.

  “There is no imprisoned spirit here,” I replied. “It will be safe for them. And I trust them,” I added. “It’s a delicate task.”

  “We can do it,” Tunir said firmly. “What do you need of us, my lady?”

  “There are ruins here like the one that was Adhannor’s prison,” I said. “But they are safe, and free from any sort of danger. I need them mapped; once that is done, consult Lord Baradan on how best to organize those ruins into our own fortress.”

  Iasul frowned. “But…we’ve seen none, my lady. We’ve looked, as Bardol wished the area mapped.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, my lady,” Bardol added hastily. “But we’re not familiar with this place.”

  “I do not mind at all.” It was a trick of the old magic, then; the same trick that kept Adhannor’s prison hidden to all but an inheritor like myself. “Lord Baradan or one of our elves can show you its location.”

  Tunir nodded. “Aye, my lady, we can do that.”

  “And there is another task I would set you both. When you reach the main hall of the ruins, you will come across a body. It is not rotting, nor a corpse, and the woman it was has been dead for millennia. But she should be treated with respect, and be properly buried. Can you do that for me?”

  Tunir nodded again. “Yes, my lady. We will find her a tomb, or make her one. We will start at first light.”

  I nodded. Adhanel was owed that much.

  I had one last piece of business, but the object of that business was not here: Aerik.

  I looked to Firien. “Where is he?”

  He knew who I meant, and gestured towards the ruins, to one of the small stone houses where smoke curled up into the night sky. “Asleep. I beg you, not tonight, my lady.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  Dalandaras might have noticed the Lady coming out of me long before I did, but it seemed he had no fear of her when he needed something else. He approached me and took my hand, pulling me toward the rock that he had been sitting on. “You will eat,” he ordered.

  My father gestured, and those that I had summoned made themselves scarce, retreating back to their own places among the bonfires.

  Dalandaras pushed a wooden plate into my hand; several small, de-boned fish sat upon it. “Eat,” he ordered again, and I obeyed. If only for the life that was in me, I obeyed.

  Sometime in the night, Dalandaras carried me back to our little room against the mountain; while darkness was still on the valley I could hear the morning preparations of the humans. It was almost like sleeping in my room at Winter’s Crown. Only now I heard my father’s voice setting out a pattern of patrol and assigning of jobs, Tiri’s soft footsteps close behind him as he paced. He was setting up a command post near to where Dalandaras and I slept. It was a good place, I knew, allowing me quick access as well as a good view over the rest of the ruins. But now I just wanted to sleep. The Lady had been weightless last night, but the Eva of this morning had heavy limbs and a churning stomach.

  Morning sickness.

  When I dared open my eyes fully, it was light out, the sun shining bright and clear through the leather door hanging. Dalandaras had disappeared; I reached out to him with the old magic, and found him showing Tunir and Iasul the entrance to Adhanel’s ruins.

  But from just outside my door, I heard the shuffling of sailor’s boots.

  “Come in, Aerik,” I said, and cast my cloak off of me. My head spun as I sat up, but sit up I did as my guardian let himself in, another plate in his hand.

  “I’ve been charged by Dalandaras,” he said stiffly. “To make sure you eat. Here, some of the bread the men took from Winter’s Crown.”

  I took the plate; the man wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Do not punish Firien for what I asked him to do.”

  “I will punish him however much I please,” he replied. “For going along with such a stupid plan.”

  There would be no eating if my stomach kept churning and Aerik demanded a fight.

  “How could you leave me behind?” he asked.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It was true enough.

  “I may be getting up there in years, but I’m still strong.”

  “At the sea,” I replied. “In the sun and the warmth. I couldn’t afford to wait for you to keep up.”

  “Keep up?” His eyes met mine at last, alight with his rage. “I have never fallen behind, not once.”

  “You almost have,” I replied, standing to meet him toe to toe. “I have no desire to bury you up here in this dead place.”

  “Bury me…?”

  “It takes its toll on you,” I said. “Do not deny it. Even Firien’s gifts have not shielded you from it. If we were on the sea, with the hot sun and the warm ocean and a cool breeze and the rocking of a ship, it would be so very different. But the cold is freezing your bones, Aerik. And I love you too much to bury you up here.”

  “You aren’t going to bury me up here.”

  “You aren’t going to be a nameless body in a nameless grave.”

  “What is all this about?” The fire left Aerik’s eyes, and he grasped my shoulders. “Eva, what is all of this?”

  “You wanted to know why I left you behind; this is why. Though you have always felt it wrong to call yourself my father. You were there for the many years that my father was not. Even he knows it. I nearly lost him to Ellsmid; I could not lose you in the attempt to rescue him.”

  “You won’t lose me,” Aerik began, but my dinner from the previous night wasn’t going to say down any longer. I turned from him and vomited into the corner. There was some relief in pressing my face against the cold stone.

  While I wiped my mouth, Aerik smoothed my hair back. “No wonder Dalandaras wants you to eat,” he said gently. “You’re ill; you can’t keep anything down.”

  “He’s partly right,” I said, and when I felt steady enough I faced him again. “I’m pregnant.”

  “My girl,” Aerik said.

  “Oh pet,” my mother’s voice floated around me.

  Was my mother thinking of my welfare when she had Aerik swear an oath of loyalty to me? I had not been present, but it was the story Aerik always told as to why he had followed me to this cold, dead place.

  “Aerik,” I said, my voice trembling. “Aerik of Darad, son of Pariad, brother to Aerlad, faithful servant and captain to my moth
er’s House.”

  The formality gave him pause. “Do you wish to bind me to some promise to not die for you? A promise to you cannot override the promise I made your mother.”

  “Consider it a continuance of the one you made,” I said sadly. “Kneel, Aerik of Darad.”

  He did so, his head bowed. I placed my hand on his brow. “Swear to me that you will keep this vow secret, until I reveal it.”

  “I swear,” he said sadly.

  “Then I charge you with the same task my mother did,” I replied. “I charge you to protect my child when she is born.” She? It felt like a girl. I knew it, somehow.

  He raised his head at that. “Your child? Oh Eva…”

  I touched his cheek. “Only Ehledrath and Lorandal know. And now you. I need you to stay alive Aerik, and stay out of the fighting…because you will need to watch and guide my child when she comes.”

  “And you do not think of your own life?” Aerik asked. There were tears on his weathered cheeks now.

  “I have,” I replied. “And I have to give it to the Lady. It is the only way I can see to save Tal Aesiri and all the spirits that rely on me. She will ensure that I survive to childbirth. But you must ensure that my child survives after that.”

  “Why not Dalandaras?” Aerik asked. “His is the father, is he not?”

  I nodded.

  “And your own father? Surely he would want to protect his granddaughter.”

  I smiled, but it was bitter. “I need Lord Baradan to ensure the men’s loyalties. Dalandaras… Dalandaras I keep for my own sanity.”

  “And me?” his eyes were pleading. When had my mother ever left him out of an adventure? Never.

  “When have the women of House Darad ever been easy?” I asked. “I doubt my daughter will spend her days sitting at home. You will have many adventures yet, Aerik. But you won’t have many more with me. Swear it, Aerik of Darad. Swear that you will protect my child when she is born.”

  “I swear,” Aerik said dully.

  I smiled, but it was bitter. If I had not cried so much yesterday, I would be crying now. “Then rise, Aerik, and remember our secret.”

  Just then, I felt a tremor pass through all the foulings of Tal Anor. Annel howled outside, a warning howl.