The Aisling Trilogy

by Cummings, Carole

  Wil tilted his head, genuinely curious. “Pretending nothing hurts you is best?” “Not pretending.” Dallin was staring at the ground, lines of tension knotting his shoulders, vibrating beneath Wil’s hand. “Accepting it and then moving on.”

  “Burying it.”

  Dallin slumped a little, closed his eyes on a weary sigh. “Wil, can’t we just—?”

  “And if I die?” Wil paused when he saw Dallin’s jaw lock, twitch. “Will you bury me twice?” he pressed. “Once in the ground and once in your heart?”

  Dallin lifted his head, locked his gaze to Wil’s, steady and hard. “We’ll never know, will we?” he answered stonily. “Because I don’t intend to let it happen.”

  He stared at Wil, sudden anger, daring Wil to negate the statement he no doubt saw as simple fact. Wil bowed his head, wishing he had the courage to say that it wasn’t really Dallin’s choice. “You’re borrowing trouble,” Dallin told him. “You always do. You’re so much stronger than you think you are, and you keep forgetting that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let—”

  “I don’t think I can beat him,” Wil said, a little more wobbly than he would’ve preferred. “I’d like to think I won’t be another of your ghosts you pretend you don’t see.”

  Wasn’t that strange? He’d spent so much of the past few years willing people not to even notice him, to forget him as soon as they’d served whatever use he’d had for them the moment before. Now, all he wanted was to know he’d be remembered, remembered by someone who’d looked at him, someone who’d seen and not looked away. Not invisible. Not merely the sum of his sins. A real person, no one’s dream; whole and the man he was reflected back in his Guardian’s eyes, enhanced and cleaned of tarnish and imperfections of the soul.

  … a Guardian who loves him above all.

  How very terrifying.

  How very… consoling.

  Dallin was silent for some time, quietly seething and apparently trying very hard not to. He took Wil once again by the arms, turning them both to face the falls. Roughly, Dallin wrapped his arms about Wil’s shoulders, dipped his face to the crook of Wil’s neck, held on tight. “Then don’t die,” Dallin finally answered.

  Wil shut his eyes, shook his head. “I can’t—”

  “I don’t want to do this now,” Dallin whispered, a heavy note of pleading in his voice, and he squeezed Wil a little tighter, just enough to constrict breath the tiniest bit. “Look up at that water, at the rock it carved its way through—scoring its way through everything to find its true path.” A tightening of his grip and a small shake to Wil’s shoulders. “That’s you. You are the river, Wil. Stronger than earth and rock—stronger than fire. And now you’ve got the strength of Lind behind you, or you will.”

  His voice… it blended with the song of the water, just as strong, just as sure and clear. He made Wil almost believe every word. All of those things inside him and his Guardian at his back, pointing the way.

  “And you,” Wil said. “You’re behind me.”

  “And me,” Dallin promised. “Perhaps you can’t beat him, but we can. I know how this has to go, and if you want prophecies, if that’ll make you feel better, I’ll give you one, all right? I’ll get Thorne to put it in the Songs. A prophecy from the Guardian to the Aisling, are you ready?” He didn’t wait for Wil to answer. “It’ll be dark, it’ll be terrifying, it’ll probably hurt, and you might even want to die. It’ll be the worst thing either one of us has ever seen or lived through, but you will come out the other side, understand?”

  Wil reached up, gripped Dallin’s arms in both hands. “How—?”

  “Understand?”

  Understanding didn’t really seem to be the point. Not even a little bit. Trust. That blind faith that Dallin so despised, and here he was, asking for it, demanding it, and he didn’t even seem to know it. And here Wil was, wanting to hand it over.

  Wil shifted a little, sank himself deeper into the embrace.

  Oh, I trust you. I can’t seem to help myself.

  Trust and faith and give and take; closing his eyes, following blind, and believing without even thinking about it that his Guardian wouldn’t let him fall. That it was all right to be weak sometimes, because there was another there to be strong, to balance you, propping you up in your moment of frailty, not waiting to tear out your throat the minute you bared it. There was a strange sort of strength in that, one you could give back, because it didn’t have to define you, and ‘weak’ didn’t have to mean ‘not strong.’

  Wil twisted his neck, laid a soft kiss to Dallin’s throat. “I understand.”

  He let Dallin support him as he leaned back, watching the falls. Watching the brown, sunlit ghost of a gangly, tow-headed little boy plunge from the top of the Stair, laughing and shouting, long arms and legs flailing as he splashed down into indigo-froth.

  Smiling a little, Wil closed his eyes, breathed in the day, and wished with all his heart it never had to end.

  Chapter Two

  Wil, Dallin decided grimly, had already made up his mind. Accepted the end like he knew what was coming and was perfectly all right with it. Sad, perhaps, a bit frightened, but not so much that he’d look for or accept another answer.

  It was like holding on to someone who was already dead.

  Dallin suppressed a shudder, took Wil by the shoulders, and pushed him upright. The chill hit him right away, where Wil’s warmth had swathed him a second ago, but he didn’t pull Wil back, though he almost wanted to. Instead, he patted at Wil’s shoulders, pulled away. Wil wasn’t done looking yet, lost in the sight and sound of the falls, so Dallin merely withdrew, paced slowly back to the cliffside wall, and leaned his back to it. Stared at his boots.

  It was very strange being back here, seeing things he’d forgotten existed, placing his feet on soil he’d walked before. Feeling it all vibrate through him, wanting to feel familiar, but somehow he couldn’t let it. Like running into an old lover with whom things had ended badly and pretending you didn’t recognize him, and after enough denials, you might even start to believe it yourself. Walking away and feeling their eyes between your shoulder-blades, accusing—You remember, we both know it, what are you so afraid of?

  Ridiculous. He’d never done such a thing in his life, hadn’t had enough real relationships that would afford the circumstance.

  Have you ever loved?

  His jaw tightened, and he scuffed his boot over shiny-damp granite.

  What difference did it make? As if never having had someone to love so completely it knocked all sense from him was some sort of failure, like he had any control over it whatsoever. If I had control, believe me…

  He’d what? Refuse the love? Make it go away? Pretend it wasn’t true until he believed it? Six weeks ago, he might’ve thought that possible, but now…

  “You look tired.”

  Wil’s voice was a little loud to be heard over the rush of the water, but not loud enough that it should have startled Dallin like it did. Dallin cast a glance up, saw the look of concern, and pulled his eyes quickly away again.

  “Do I?”

  “I should’ve noticed before,” Wil ventured, strangely hesitant all of a sudden, considering he’d been trying to plow Dallin under with memories he didn’t want only moments ago.

  Dallin shrugged, casting his gaze up to the top of the falls. “You only just woke yourself a few hours ago.”

  “Which is why I should have considered that you’ve not been taking the time to look after yourself,” Wil replied. Dallin wouldn’t look at him, but he could almost feel Wil’s gaze go narrow. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

  The derisive snort whiffled from Dallin before he could stop it. He choked it back, shook his head. ‘Sleeping,’ these days, was a relative term.

  “Yes,” he said. If by ‘sleeping’ you mean trying to snatch a few moments in between looking for you and trying to heal you from losing so much blood, and then letting down my guard so that the dreams can get in and make me feel so
exhausted when I open my eyes again that I’m beginning to wonder why I even bother. “Yes, I’ve been sleeping.” He pulled up a smile, tried to make it sly. “Although I’ll admit I’ve been wishing I had something better to do at night to occupy myself, but since you were unavailable…” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Wil twisted something at him that might have been a smirk. “Perhaps we can remedy that tonight.” He took a step, right up close, so his arm brushed Dallin’s; even through the thickness of both coats, the touch thrilled through Dallin like it had that first night. “I think I’d like to have you by the river,” Wil murmured, low and right next to Dallin’s ear, so the heat of his breath seeped down Dallin’s collar. “We’ll make a few memories of our own it won’t hurt you to remember, shall we?”

  It was like Wil had just taken him and tripped him into the water. Somehow, he managed to keep the smile, nod, though he couldn’t come up with a single bloody thing to say, and anyway, his mouth didn’t seem to be working, so what was the point? What the hell was wrong with him? And why did whatever it was feel so much like fear?

  “Dreams?” Wil asked quietly.

  Dallin snapped his glance up, narrowed it. “Sorry?”

  Wil shrugged. “I recognize the look.” He reached up, slipped a cold fingertip along the hollow of Dallin’s left eye. “A few more days and it’ll look like someone blacked both your eyes. And you have a constant look about you, like you might draw on the next person who blinks too quickly.” He tilted his head. “Want to tell me?”

  No, I don’t want to tell you, I don’t want to tell anyone, I want it all to go away and leave me be, but it doesn’t look like that’ll happen any time soon, does it?

  “It’s fine.” Dallin tried to make his voice casual, but he only sounded tired, even to himself. He shook his head. “Same old thing, nothing new and nothing to worry yourself about.”

  Lie. When had it got so easy for him to hedge around truths?

  “Nothing to worry my pretty head over?” Wil asked mildly.

  Dallin sighed, rolled his eyes. “That isn’t what I meant, I was only—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you were doing,” Wil cut in, a touch of steel inside the tone, “it matters what you weren’t doing, and what you weren’t doing was being honest.” His mouth flattened. “You’re keeping something from me. And by the way you’re trying to back yourself through that slab of stone, it appears to be something important.”

  “Wil, they’re only dreams, they don’t—”

  “There is no such thing as only dreams. Haven’t you been paying attention at all?”

  Fucking hell. When had Dallin lost control over his own life, his proprietorship over his own thoughts and feelings, so damned completely? Two choices were possible right now, the way he saw it—fight over it, or give just enough to make it seem as though he was giving in. And he really wasn’t up to a fight. With effort, he kept back a heavy sigh.

  “It’s only the one from… I think it was that first night in Chester. Or maybe the second, I can’t remember. Like I said, nothing new.”

  “The one with the Watcher?”

  “No, the one with Calder.”

  Shit. Why hadn’t he said it was the one with the Watcher? Wil had just handed him an out, and he’d been too caught up in the half-formed lie to snatch it.

  “You never told me about that one.” Mild accusation again.

  “No?” Dallin shrugged, turned his gaze past Wil and back up to the water. “I expect there were other things more pressing at the time.”

  “Mm,” Wil said, turning his head and following Dallin’s gaze. “And now?”

  Dallin rolled his eyes. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. I’ve not been keeping any great secrets from you; it just hasn’t come up, that’s all.”

  Another lie. Bloody damn, he was getting good at them.

  Wil turned back to peer at him closely, measuring. He was silent for quite a while before he nodded, said, “I really want to know.”

  Of course you do. You really want to know everything, except for the things you don’t want to know, and I’m supposed to know how to tell the difference, and I’m also supposed to not mind when you want to know things I don’t want to tell you.

  Which wasn’t entirely fair, nor entirely honest, but Dallin really was fairly exhausted, and it was all he could do to keep all of the tangled thoughts and suspicions in some sort of order. Preventing this place from burrowing its way into Wil before Wil was ready for it, trying to listen to what Lind wanted to tell Dallin, accept the things he wanted to know, and block the ones he didn’t, wrapping his mind around the fact that he could actually hear the land speak to him, and he had a feeling he could speak back if he wanted to, and it would hear him, too…

  Too unnerving, all of it, and almost too much to keep track of. And now Wil wanted a dissection of a dream Dallin didn’t want to tell him about, after he’d spent all morning arguing with three old men over things as dire as Wil’s very life, and as unimportant as how many barrels of mead and beer would be needed for the damned celebration they were planning when they finally made it up into Lind-proper. There was also the trip down to the Bounds, which was going to use up more time they didn’t have, to deal with Commonwealth troops, when what Dallin really wanted to do was hide here, watch the falls all day, watch Wil’s face as he watched them, and not bloody talk.

  What a fucking day.

  He looked at Wil levelly, shrugged. “It’s nothing. A lot of nonsensical rubbish, really, but it’s been coming almost every time I accidentally fall asleep, and yes, it bothers me. Everything about Calder bothers me, so I don’t expect I should be surprised he’s a pain in the arse in my dreams, as well.” A sigh, a bit over-dramatic, probably, but no less heartfelt. He waved his hand. “It’s in the alley, and there’s fire everywhere. I know you’re there because I can hear you yelling at me to get up, but I can’t see you.” His teeth clenched a little. “That bloody, stumpy little gate guard is there, but, as usual, he turns into one of the…” A pause he couldn’t quite help, and he cleared his throat. “He turns into one of the children.”

  Wil’s expression turned immediately from light suspicion to sympathy. “Burnt?” Dallin nodded, dipped his head. “And then Calder shows up, holding this stupid little gold figure shaped like a frog in his hand, only it’s not really gold—it’s alive and keeps staring at me, blinking its freaky bulging eyes at me, and Calder says—” He stopped himself just in time, shook his head, and turned his eyes back to the water. “Calder says things I can’t remember, and then I’m in a boat in the middle of a gunfight.” He risked a glance sideways, saw the narrowed gaze, the slight pinch of the mouth. Wil wasn’t buying the lie for a second.

  “What does Calder say?” he asked slowly.

  He says you’ve been betrayed all your life and implies I should be ashamed for planning to betray you further. Except I have nothing even resembling a real ‘plan,’ and even if I did, it isn’t real betrayal, because if I do what I think I have to do, I’m following orders from the Father Himself. How am I supposed to do otherwise? Just because you’ve made me promise—Dallin cut that one off, clenched his teeth, and shrugged, annoyed. “What does Calder ever say but rot and nonsense? I told you, I don’t remember.”

  Wil was quiet for a moment, staring at him; Dallin stared back, keeping his face blank and his gaze steady. Eventually, Wil looked away with a slow nod of his head.

  “The frog is magic,” he said quietly. “Magic untapped and unknown.” He shot a sardonic glance at Dallin, then looked away again. “But I expect you knew that.”

  Dallin frowned. “No, I didn’t.” Though he thought perhaps Wil was saying he should have known it, but that didn’t seem entirely fair, either. “You’re the one who knows these things, why d’you think I should?”

  “Mm,” Wil hummed, like they both knew what the non-answer was supposed to mean, and he had no intention of dignifying Dallin’s question with a response and every r
ight to be angry that Dallin wouldn’t admit he already had the answer. Except Dallin really didn’t have an answer, and damn it, how the hell had the day gone from what it had been fifteen minutes ago to this?

  “Look, Wil, I’m not trying to be difficult.” Yes, he was—he just didn’t want Wil to know he was being difficult. “It’s all rather chaotic, and I really don’t remember—”

  “The gunfight is fairly self-explanatory,” Wil cut in, terse. “Attack and counter-attack.” He slipped a wry glance up and over to Dallin. “Typical when a person who likes to control everything around him suddenly can’t anymore.” It was all Dallin could do not to growl; fortunately, Wil didn’t give him time for a response. “The boat isn’t terribly significant—it’s the state of the water. I assume it’s somewhat… unsettled?” When Dallin frowned a bit and nodded, Wil merely shrugged. “So are you. P’raps, if you’d admit you actually have emotions, it would calm down the next time.”

  The curt delivery and the vague suggestion of a verbal slap surprised Dallin. “Now hold on just a moment,” he protested. “That’s hardly fair. How did this get to be about—?”

  “Now, if you’ll tell me what Calder says to you in the dream,” Wil overrode him, “decent sleep might be a possibility tonight.” He turned a bit of a glare on Dallin, sagging when he caught whatever pathetic expression of bewilderment he found. He shook his head, reached out, and laid his hand to Dallin’s arm. “I’m trying to help. I’ve been useless at everything else, and I’ll admit it’s unsettling that you won’t let me in, when you expect complete and total submission to your will from me.”

  That made Dallin’s head jerk back. “Submission? Are you joking?” Perhaps the fairness of this conversation had been tipped in his own favor since it started, but that last crack was not only unimaginably wrong, but completely below the belt. “When have I ever asked you to submit to anything? When have I ever done anything besides—?”

  “Besides make proclamations about what I do and do not need to know and expect me to trust and believe you?” Wil held up a hand when Dallin’s mouth dropped open. “I do trust and believe you, don’t misunderstand. But you’re expecting of me what you seem to despise in others. And I’m willing to go along with it—up to a point. I reserve the right to determine exactly where that point is.”