Randolph put his hand on Arynn’s shoulder. She didn’t bother to swat it away. Her hands were too busy burying her face and soaking up her tears.
“I wondered the same thing,” he said. “That’s why I said I had hoped you had not given into despair. This whole time I had no idea that you thought Ben was dead. I was worried you had grown to wonder why he had come to rescue you like he did his cousin.”
“He found her?”
“Yes, Xander’s daughter is alive and well. I do not know why Ben betrayed you. Is it possible that he forgot about you?”
Arynn wanted to tell him ‘no’ but couldn’t make herself say it. Perhaps she had misjudged him, and he never shared the feelings for her that she had for him. Maybe he was just using her all along to get to his cousin, and when he succeeded, he saw no further use for her.
“I’m sorry to have given you this bad news, but surely it is better than thinking his dead, no?”
Again, Arynn couldn’t make herself say anything. She didn’t know what to think, or which she would rather be true: believing that Ben had died the caring and honest person she thought he was or believing that yet another person she cared for lied to her. He was alive but no longer had any use for her.
Randy stood and patted Arynn’s back. “I will leave you be for now. We will reconvene tomorrow.” He left Arynn at the table, alone save for the hearth’s crackling fire and her thoughts.
13
Longinus
Kolpos, cross the Shimmering Sea
Present Day
Those final sky bound days proved to be trying times for Longinus. Something after her conversation with the captain continued to resonate with her long after he’d left that evening. It had been as if she’d been under some kind of spell. Long into the night and next day she thought of him and his story—the tale of the sister pretending to be a man fighting for the Ænærian cause. It was a traitorous thing to do, punishable by exile—sometimes even death. Now she was afraid Nico knew her secret too, yet there’d been no sour taste in her mouth after their time together. He seemed genuine; something she was quite unfamiliar with.
She spent less time secluded to her chambers than she had the first two days on the ship. She ate meals with the crew, partaking little in their conversations save for the occasional nod or snarky retort. Throughout the days she found herself looking for her captain, then averting her eyes as soon as they made contact.
Nico had been right: the crew responded well to their legate’s increased presence. When once meals had been an affair of mixed chattering and overzealous drinking, Longinus’s participation seemed to ignite it into a more unified affair. These men had been stationed throughout the other thirteen provinces prior to their relocation to Bacchuso. They had spent much of that time as grunts, hardly ever receiving recognition from so much as a prefect, much less their legate. It seemed they’d been disheartened to find their new legate wanting little to do with them.
So, despite her yearning for a closed door and four strong walls to quiet the noise and company of men, Longinus braved the last days in the sky with her crew. By the end, she actually found herself enjoying their presence, though none compared to that of the captain’s.
Paradoxically, his was the company she most feared. Did he know her secret? Why else would he have revealed the truth of his sister? Even with the time they spent with one another after that night, none of it had been alone. Because even though she yearned for his presence, she also worried that he may reveal some horrid truth. That he was indeed a spy sent by her uncle—or worse, and he’d discovered her secret all on his own and was hoping to blackmail her. So long as that conversation never came, Longinus was comforted just enough with their small talk around the rest of the crew.
Yet even the thought of the risk made her want him to herself again, overlooking the glowing sea during the sunset on a cloudless night.
Though the air and view of the sea and horizon were beautiful and wondrous, once again feeling the solid security of land was a welcome comfort. The airship was smaller than a typical sea ship, making it easy to feel crammed after only a few days. Shoulders and elbows had bumped against one another more often than she’d have liked, and the airship had but one facility for an entire crew to relieve themselves. Yes, being back on land was a good change of pace.
Weeks prior to their journey, King Randolph had sent a voyage of Rhion by sea to establish an Ænærian colony in this new land across the ocean. A small camp of fresh lumbar and muddy trenches had been assembled with a tower to accept the airship upon its eventual arrival.
Longinus and her crew stepped off the great flying machine onto the wooden ramparts with a high overview of the Ænærian camp. The wind tugged at the hair tied atop her head with the first brisk bite of autumn. Summer was coming to an end earlier on this side of the world. It felt like a grim omen.
She was the first of her crew to set foot on the foreign soil, her boots nearly submerging in the muddied ground. The air was filled with the scent of pine from the trees freshly cut and carved into their camp. Palisades and spikes made a thin perimeter around the tents, pavilion, tower, and single thatched hut. Flying high and strong atop the tower was a mighty Ænærian flag, its bright orange and somber black greeting the airship’s crew, welcoming them all to a place they could safely call home.
The camp was set up just beyond the rocky beach—far enough away from the high tides and angry waves of the summer storms. Just beyond the beach, pine trees stood sentinel—guarding the view of this new land from its invaders. A few parties of the first Rhion to arrive had scouted the area, finding wild boars and elk to hunt. They’d found possible signs of civilization here and there. Markings that looked almost like boot prints molded into clay by streams; stones the shapes of arrowheads; burns along tree faces. Signs that could’ve been made days or weeks or decades ago.
Beyond the small pine forests, poking into the horizon like a dozen spires, lay a mountain range. Randolph’s information suggested the Vault would be there, as most of the Sun’s artifacts surviving the Old Days were in naturally guarded territories. Without any locals, the hardest part would be roughing the terrain that lay ahead. An easy task for a group of seasoned warriors. Longinus gave the men a single night to recover from the long journey.
In the morning they ventured toward the mountains.
Her horse, a sandy steed, trampled over branches and the dead, crumpled leaves that littered the forest floor. A mist broke through the trees with a smell like fresh rain, obscuring her vision so she could only see the riders directly ahead of her. I sure hope they explored the area as much as they claim. I am not getting lost in this strange land.
They traveled in a small party. Small enough to keep a good speed; strong enough to fend off anything that may get in their way. The trouble of being outside any known civilization was the lack of roads. Traversing the rough terrain was a struggle for the horses, which were already unsettled from being shipped across the ocean. Longinus couldn’t imagine what a voyage like that could be like. The rolling waves, storms without safe haven, and the deep abyss threatening to swallow them whole. The mere thought gave her an icy chill as if the bellowing winds of the sea brushed against her.
The steady beat of the hooves against wood and rock broke as a rider broke formation and trotted by her side.
He cleared his throat with his approach. “Legate.”
“Captain,” she replied to Nico. What does he want from me? I already spent an evening listening to his chatter and entertained his idea of being social with the crew. If only the captain could grant her the comfort of being left alone. And yet, she did not ignore him nor shy away. She was actually gladdened to hear his voice and not that of some other Rhion’s.
“We never finished our conversation from the other day.”
“It wasn’t much of a conversation.”
Nico chuckled. “Well, it was for you, Legate Silence.”
“Get on with it. Why are you br
inging this up now?”
“I wanted to see how you’d respond. You opened up a lot since then, yet you still seclude yourself, even in the presence of others.”
His horse stepped in synch with her steed, the two beasts trotting side by side, shoulder to shoulder. He was so much taller, sitting atop his white mare. Even with the advantage of a large horse, Longinus was forced to extend her neck to meet the captain’s eyes. It wasn’t a position she liked, being looked down on.
“I’m focusing,” she answered. “We’re in uncharted territory. I like to keep my mind sharp at times like this.”
“Is it difficult to ride with the one hand?”
Longinus looked away, hiding an amused smile. No one ever dared to speak of her maimed extremity within earshot of her. This one is either brave or stupid. Either way, she was entertained.
“I learned to use my legs to keep control years ago when training to shoot and ride at the same time, so it wasn’t too difficult to adapt. Besides, he’s just following the other horses right now. I don’t have to do much of anything.”
She couldn’t see through the mist, but she was willing to bet many of the other Rhion were keeping a watchful eye on the situation, wondering when she’d snap at the captain for asking about such a sensitive subject.
“I heard you lost it to Limmetrad’s wolf—that you tried to stab it through the mouth, but it swallowed your blade and took your hand with it.”
She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing so hard that she felt tears.
“I don’t think any of the men have heard you laugh before,” Nico said with a wide grin.
Because it betrays my womanly voice. Even so, she couldn’t resist enjoying a twisted rumor such as that. Nor could she resist entertaining it. “And why would I stab the she-wolf in the mouth? Do you take me for a fool?”
“Quite the contrary, I’d heard the beast to have an indestructible pelt, and you thought to strike it from the inside where it would be vulnerable.”
“Well, the wolf still lives.”
“It must be indestructible from the inside as well. It must be a monster.”
Longinus shrugged. “Or an exaggerated tale.”
“I can’t blame you for trying though. There would be great honor in taking down a beast such as that.”
Longinus sighed, having had enough fun with the captain before embarrassing him. “Who here knows the real story?”
The Rhion were silent for a moment, taking the time to exchange glances and wondering whether it was a trick question.
“It was in the arena outside of Ignistad…” one of the Rhion said, his voice trembling.
A confused expression swept over Nico’s face.
“Come now, Captain. It’s not a secret. There are plenty of tales out of there of how I lost my hand. Surely you came across the real one at some point.”
Nico appeared disappointed, his face sullen and withdrawn. “You mean to tell me you actually fought in the arena, with the slaves and commoners? But why?”
“The king is very protective of me. He ensured I had ample training but never let me see any true combat. I took to sneaking off to the arenas to sharpen my skills.”
“Legate…” a Rhion’s voice said through the mist.
“Speak.”
“Is it true you called yourself Argr?”
“Yes,” Longinus admitted, not liking where this was going.
Nico stroked his chin as if confused. “Argr? Isn’t that a term from some of the southern territories?”
“It means unmanly,” Longinus admitted. “I chose it because I felt demasculinized having to kill my first opponents in a game rather than on the battlefield fighting for the honor of the Sun.” She studied Nico’s face, hoping he bought the lie.
In truth, she chose the name thinking few would know its meaning. Her persona in the arena could be closer to her true self, as if she were going by her real name in front of everyone yet still in disguise. After losing her hand to Limmetrad and revealing herself as the Argr, it didn’t take long for all of Ænæria to pick up on the word and learn its true meaning. Her uncle had punished her for that mistake. It put an added level of scrutiny on her. Sometimes she wondered if that was why he’d sent her all the way to Bacchuso rather than taking up Fenwin’s mantle in Vestinia.
Clouds covered the remaining traces of the Sun, and darkness danced through the forest and swirling mist. If not for the continued banter among the Rhion, Longinus was sure she’d have lost her way. It was as if this land was rejecting them, did not want them to succeed in their quest. The ground grew softer, increasingly giving way to the procession of hooves and weight of the travelers. Flies buzzed and creatures beyond sight echoed bellowing croaks. The fresh forest smell soon grew distorted into a foul odor of rot and filth. Vines hung low, brushing over their heads in attempts to snare them in their nooses.
More than once a Rhion would shriek or curse. What brushed against my leg? one would holler. Something crawled across my arm! It’s in my hair, get it out! Paranoia, fear, and anxiety aggravated on and on as the forest grew danker, the mists thickening into a noxious fog. Longinus prayed and prayed for the Sun to carry her light and penetrate the miasma. She too was a victim to its toxicity. Her skin crawled, her back sweat, and her teeth chattered.
We don’t belong here. This land is cursed. It’s no wonder no one inhabits this place! She wanted to turn back, except she didn’t even know where ‘back’ was. The fog was thick, and their pace was slowed and scrambled by the sludge. They could have been going in circles for all she knew. The men leading the procession couldn’t have any idea where they were going. Sight was so limited that by now she could see only the rears of the horses ahead of her.
An idea came to her. She swung her blade at a low hanging branch and handed it to Nico, directing him to keep it still. This was a job that required more than a single hand. She fashioned a wrap of cloth around the branch and placed the muzzle of her sung by its tip and gently pressed against the weapon’s trigger. The torched roared to life. It hardly cut through the dense fog, but it wouldn’t need to for what she was planning. She ordered everyone to a halt and directed them to fashion their own torches. When they finished, Nico shared the flame with men nearest to him, and they spread the fire on to everyone else. Now there was enough light all around that they could better view their surroundings. The fog still crept in and around them, but at least they could all keep track of one another. No one was getting lost on her watch.
Eventually, they made it through the worst of it and reached a point where they could once again see nearly everything around them. Unfortunately, that meant they could also see the swamp’s inhabitants that croaked and crawled about. Great big spiders hung from their webs, ready to drop on the next unsuspecting victim unlucky enough to walk underneath it. Long brown and green snakes disguised themselves among the vines waiting to sink their fangs into the next fool to brush against them. Even the bulging-eyed toad, which at first seemed innocent and friendly, showed its true colors when its long tongue shot out at a resting beetle and clamped down its powerful jaws against its prey’s carapace.
The instant Longinus felt the ground underneath her steed change from the boggy muck to firm soil, she shouted for her men to ride a full cantor. She wanted out of that Sunforsaken swamp as soon as she could.
Finally, they found themselves at a break in the marshy woods—and once again the presence of the warming Sun. What a blessing it was to feel the Great Mother’s touch on her skin once again. And there lay the mountains. From this distance, when Longinus looked hard enough, she could see the glowing blue of the Vault’s entrance.
Shortly after leaving the cursed marshes and away from the thickest mists, they found that they had one more obstruction barring their path. At the foot of the mountains, blocking the only pass for miles around, lay a village fortified by great stone towers and brick walls. Horns sounded from within as the Ænærians made their approach. They did not charge the
walls—that would lead only to death and disaster. It wouldn’t be wise to make enemies with these strangers. Not yet.
Longinus called for the Rhion to stop well before approaching the walls themselves. From this distance and the height of those towers, they should be safe from any arrows. There they waited, in the middle of the grassy field under the shade of some nearby pines and the cloudy skies. The ground shook as horses galloped away from the village. A party of two dozen men approached. Of course, they’re all men. Even on the other side of the world, men have to be the ones to take charge. They were heavily armed, lances and spears with cold steel points that gleamed in the dim light. A few bows and quivers, and two men even possessed rifles slung across their backs.
The man in the center drew closer. Longinus saw her men itching for their weapons, and she gestured for them to hold steady. She stepped forward to show the natives that she was the leader of the group. She didn’t dare go more than a few feet; a skilled enough archer behind a longbow could take her out. The wind wailed as she waited for the native to approach. She smelled the faint electric scent of ozone. A storm was coming, and she didn’t want to be caught in one while still having to return through the cruel foggy swamps.
At last, the man was within feet of her—enough for her to make out the short graying beard hidden behind his metal helmet. He looked to be a strong man for his age, though it was difficult to tell behind his rusting cuirass. Longinus prided herself in her keen perception, and it once again served her well when she noticed the small revolver holstered at the man’s backside and hidden by his faded red cape.
He said something in a gruff and mangled voice. He had a thick accent, and a few words sounded like distorted versions of the common tongue of Ænæria. While she couldn’t understand everything he said, she thought she understood the main idea. Who are you?
The Heir of Ænæria Page 15
