by Beth Alvarez
He stifled a laugh.
“Ah, that's better. A bit of personality in you after all, hmm?” Ria trilled a laugh of her own. “Well, now that the ice is broken, indulge me. Your birth name is Aldaanan, but you're certainly not. Were you descended from Eldani, before you were changed?”
Humor died and a serious look drew itself on his face. Changed? “What do you mean?”
Her ear-tufts rose in surprise. “I can feel the taint in you clear as anything, friend. No one is born with that sort of shadow hanging over them. You're something off, something out of place in the world. Those sort of things happen, when magic goes awry.”
“I've always been this way,” he replied, though his brow furrowed. He knew he'd been made, rather than born, but he'd always assumed his power had been tainted since he drew his first breath.
“Is that so?” Ria mused, tapping her beak with one claw. “Hmm, perhaps. But perhaps Filadiel can tell us more. He’s a bit of an expert in magic, and free magic besides. Most of the Aldaanan are. I’m sure he could look at you and see what’s the matter right off. Oh!” She clamped her forepaws around her beak and made a miserable sound. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Therad is always scolding me for nattering on. Sometimes my beak gets away from me.”
“Who is Filadiel?” he asked, ignoring the rest of her chatter.
“The leader of the Aldaanan. We'll have an opportunity to meet him once we get to where we're going. If you'd like, that is?” The gryphon looked hopeful. “He can probably tell you about the taint in the magic that courses through you. I won't say he can purge it, but if you wish to isolate or contain it, his teachings may be of some help.”
Rune frowned. Of course he wanted to contain it. But if containment was possible, why hadn't the Kirban mages suggested as much?
She withered beneath his stare. “Well, just a suggestion, of course. I’d like for you to meet him. He’s always writing his discoveries down for the elders to read. Gryphons like learning about as well as they like flying, which is quite a bit. In any case, we'll reach the Aldaanan valley in a week or so. You can think about it until then. I’ll give you some peace.” She stood and stretched like a cat before she started off the way she'd come.
“Ria,” he called after her. She paused and peered at him over her shoulder. He licked his lips before going on. “You've seen tainted magic before?”
“Oh yes.” She bobbed her head in mimicry of a nod, a gesture that looked even more odd than her human-like expressions. “I've seen them reversed, too. Filadiel is good at that sort of thing. Which is why I think you ought to meet him.” She smiled at him again and gave her tail feathers a flick before she moved on.
He watched after her, a thoughtful frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Then his eyes fell and he studied his hands. Could something like that be reversed? Kirban's mages had never mentioned the possibility. From everything he'd ever heard, he'd been a monster from the moment his life began. He hadn't thought it an intentional design, though it offered limited advantages to a fighter. Intimidation, claws, both things he'd trade for normalcy in a heartbeat. The idea of it being tied to something that could be undone seemed too good to be true. And it came at a strange time too, with him ready to escape as soon as he could recover his sword. Convenient that there might be something that could aid him waiting at the army's destination.
Rune sighed in exasperation and retreated into his tent as the first raindrops fell. No, he couldn't suspect anyone of trying to coerce him to their destination. Even Garam had been both surprised and displeased to see the gryphon, and if the captain held as little love for magic as Ria claimed, there was no reason for him to orchestrate anything involving it. Rune tried to shake the thoughts, staring at the tent's ceiling in the dark. But the more he tried to empty his mind, the more nagging the idea became.
What if the corruption of his power could be undone? He laid back with an arm tucked behind his head and reached for the rings hidden beneath his shirt. He rolled them between his green-scaled fingers until the larger of the two caught on a claw. He slid it down his finger, rubbing it with his thumb. His hand no longer felt strange without it, but when he wore it, it still felt right. As if he'd never taken it off. He studied the ring as it reflected the light of his glowing eyes.
If what made him a monster could be undone, he wouldn't have to hide. The realization made his breath catch in his throat. He could bleach his hair, return to Elenhiise as Ran. He could return to Firal without worry of execution, explain all the mistakes he'd made, set things right. He swallowed hard, removing his ring, holding it tight with Firal's in the palm of his hand. If Ria was right, perhaps he'd have the chance to give her ring back after this war was over. He tucked the rings back under his shirt as his mind settled. To the heart of Aldaan it was, then.
There was no harm in trying.
Though Aldaan appeared similar to the rest of the Triad, the difference soon became apparent. Bitter winds swept over the army, turning their breath to mist and the mud underfoot to ice. It made travel easier, the wagons back on the roads, but the cold cut to the bone. The rest of the army seemed unbothered, but Rune couldn't keep his teeth from chattering. His bare feet ached until numbness took his toes. In spite of the cold, he found it easier to walk now that he wanted to reach their destination.
Most of the other men gave him a wide berth, but Rune didn't walk alone. Sera strode beside him, her chin up and her eyes bright. He wasn't sure why she'd chosen to travel at his side. Since she'd fallen in step with him, she hadn't said a word. Rune found he didn't mind the quiet. He almost preferred it to crude jokes and constant complaints he heard from the soldiers around him. The two of them were near the front of the marching army, close enough to see the captain and the gryphon as the pair led the way. The road they followed snaked up into the mountains that loomed just ahead.
“The mountains have no name, you know,” Sera said, breaking the silence for the first time that morning. “Not an official one. Depending on where you are, it might be called the Aldaanan range or the Ribs, but both are just nicknames.”
Rune gave her a sidewise look. “Ribs?”
She returned his glance, puzzled. “Because of how they branch off the mountains that split the continent. Haven't you seen a map?”
“Not a very recent one,” he admitted. The maps Redoram had shown him had been of the Triad, but the mountains had not been labeled. The only time he'd seen a map of the known world, it had been in an ancient book in Kirban Temple.
“I would have thought Garam would show you,” she murmured. “His men are sent all over the Triad. Basic geography is important for the job.”
“In our defense,” Rune said, “I haven't been one of his men for long.”
She said nothing else, marching alongside him in silence with a distant look in her mage-blue eyes.
Rune watched her from the corner of his eye for a time before he spoke again. “Why do you walk with me? Instead of at the front, with the captain?”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. Then she shrugged. “We're alone, you and I. Hundreds of men around us, but only we are mages. We experience things differently, always aware of the ebb and flow of energies around us. You're the only one here who understands, even if your Gift isn't the same as mine.”
Rune frowned as he thought that over. It made sense, but it was strange to think of an army so large without any other mages in it—especially when mages were what they moved to stand against. And stand beside, too, he reminded himself. The Aldaanan were mages as well. He shook his head. Sera's reasoning made sense, but the army's lack of magic did not. “How is it that Captain Kaith hates magic so much when his own sister is a mage?”
“It isn't that he hates magic, he just... distrusts it.” Sera peered at her brother's back, that thoughtful look returning to her eyes. “Most who live in the Royal City feel the same way. They've been sheltered from magic for years. Garam hasn't seen the incredible things we've seen, likely never will. H
e'll never understand the benefits. He and everyone else in the city figure they can get by without it, so why should anyone want or need to use it?”
“But he trusts you. Why? You couldn't have grown up together.” He rubbed his hands together and breathed into them to restore feeling to his fingers. “You are Eldani, are you not? You would have been grown before he was ever born.”
She tossed her head with a small laugh. The golden beads in her white braids clicked noisily. He didn’t know why she hadn’t removed them. “That's the problem with you northerners. You always try to fit families into one category. Yes, I am half Eldani. Garam and I share a mother. She was a powerful mage in her own right. I was mostly grown before Garam came along, but being older doesn't mean I'm any less of a sister to him. I helped raise him. Upbringing of the children is the responsibility of everyone in the house, regardless of their parentage.”
Northerners? He lifted a brow, but said nothing of the label. Where he was from was no concern of hers. Let her think he was from the northern continent, if it suited her. “Where I am from, widows do not often remarry. They might for political reasons, but rarely any other. The living family sees to the widow's needs. Is it different in your homeland?”
“Sometimes. Noble houses often merge to forge lasting alliances. If two houses choose to ally, that alliance persists even after the death of the original union's members. The bond persists in children who bear the blood of both houses. So in some respects, rather than being weakened by loss, the death of a spouse can be what drives a house to new heights.” A faint, sad smile crossed her face. “In my mother's instance, her first husband—my father—was slain while escorting a trade caravan through the wilds, which freed her to marry Garam's father years later. So the alliance grew to encompass my mother's house, Garam's father's house, and my father's house, too.”
Rune twitched at mention of her father's death. His own father's slaying sprang to mind too quickly for comfort. He pushed the thought away. “I'm sorry to hear of your loss.”
Sera waved a hand. “I was too young to remember. She did not remarry for many years. My uncles served as father figures to me, and Garam's father was a good man. He was kind to everyone in the family. There is nothing to be sorry for. I never thought anything was missing.” She paused, then laughed and nudged his arm. “Now it's your turn.”
He furrowed his brow. “My turn?”
“To tell me something about yourself. Your homeland. Your family. Are there more like you where you are from?”
None of those were subjects he wanted to discuss. Rune stiffened and stared straight ahead. “We spoke of that with Redoram. I was one of only two free mages. As far as I know, that is.”
“I don't mean mages like you.” She glanced to his feet, just in time to see him stumble. He spat a curse as the offending rock left a claw cracked and bloodied.
“It's too blighted cold,” he grumbled, crouching to clutch his toes.
Sera dropped beside him and reached for his foot to heal it. Her fingers brushed his scales and she jerked back with a yelp. “You're freezing! Why didn't you ask for shoes, if you're this cold?”
“Do I look like I can wear shoes?” he asked through clenched teeth. He didn't mean to sound angry, but he thought unclenching them might let them chatter right out of his head.
She rolled her eyes and slapped his hands out of the way. He felt her push against his energy as she touched him, an entirely different sensation than the methods Firal had used. Instead of linking with him and guiding his own body's strength to heal him, a trickle of Sera's own energy poured forward to mend the injury. “There are craftsmen with us who can make something for you to wear. If they can make goggles for gryphons, I'm sure they can make shoes for a lizard.”
Growling, Rune pulled away.
“You're welcome!” she snapped, pushing herself up and tossing her head. “How did you ever stay warm before?”
“Home isn't so far north as you think.” He rubbed his feet to restore feeling to his toes.
Sera's brows lifted. “I'd have thought you Aldaanan. At root, if nothing else. The Aldaanan are the only free mages left.”
Rune tilted his head to look up at her. “Apparently not.”
The sparkle in her eyes showed her curiosity was piqued. “So where are you from, if not Aldaan?”
“The tropics. Where there is no need for shoes or—” He stopped short as something white drifted between them. His eyes tracked its descent. Then he looked skyward, his irritation melting into wonder.
Sera blinked, looked up, and laughed when she realized what he was staring at. Thick white snowflakes fell from the gray sky. They disappeared in her hair and melted against her dark skin. “So I see. Very well, then. I'll talk to Garam. He should have seen that you had proper equipment before the army moved. Try to keep up without hurting yourself.”
He didn't reply, watching the steady fall of snow as the rest of the army slowly filtered past. Eventually, he rejoined their movement.
Time crawled no faster than the army climbing the mountainside. The long, cold hours were made to feel even longer by how little progress they made. The mountain paths wound in long, serpentine lines around ridges and peaks, keeping them away from the dangers of steeper slopes at cost of speed. Days dragged by and fresh layers of snow greeted them each morning, slowing them further.
A cobbler traveling with the supply wagons provided Rune with simple leather foot coverings after the first snowfall. He was grateful to have them, and less grateful for Sera's meddling. The mage walked with him most days now and chattered about her home, a city perched on a ridge between desert and jungle in the southern half of the world. He could tell she expected him to share stories of his own, but he said nothing of Elenhiise, instead using questions to lure more information from her.
He wasn't surprised to learn she'd studied at the Grand College. From what he gathered, there was nowhere else in the north where one could study magecraft. Far from reassuring, really. If the mainland proved to be anything like Elenhiise, mages were plentiful, and the Grand College was what they prepared to battle now.
Snow grew deeper on the paths as days wore on. Nights turned colder and spirits fell, until Garam announced they would break into the Aldaanan valley some time the next morning. Then the campfires seemed merrier and the simple stew tasted a little heartier. The stars twinkled bright overhead, except where clouds blotted the horizon. They threatened to swallow the sky before the army settled for the night, and Rune found himself surprised when the gryphon joined him in pitching his tent.
“I was told yours was the most likely to be empty,” Ria explained as she helped drive stakes into the ground. “There'll be an ice storm tonight, I'd bet my tail feathers on it. Captain Kaith suggested I ask to share quarters with you instead of sleeping under the stars like I normally do.”
“I'm sure Captain Kaith gives me no room to refuse,” Rune muttered, checking twice to make sure she'd done everything right.
“I won't be any trouble,” the gryphon reassured him as he settled next to his small fire. She sat beside him. “I can't fly if my feathers are damaged in an ice storm. There are no private aeries anywhere near here, so I can't roost anywhere else, and the other tents will be much too full for me to fit. Once you and your leaders meet with Filadiel, I imagine we'll be parting ways.”
He grew quiet, studying his hands. The green scales looked dull in the dying light. He tried to imagine his arms without them and found he couldn't. He knew what it would look like; he'd seen it for years in the illusion his amulet spun for him—the amulet left abandoned in the caverns under Elenhiise. But having actual skin instead of an illusion of skin was different. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like. Coarse scales and clawed fingers were all he'd ever known. “Do you really think Filadiel can help me?” he asked.
“If anyone knows how to help, it would be him. I'm curious to see what he can do. Wisdom to tuck away for the future, hmm?” She trilled a laugh.
“Gryphons live for knowledge. Since we can't wield magic of our own, it's a topic we know very little about. But getting to see something as incredible as corrupted magic being cleansed? Oh, what a delight that would be! Something to fill the books with once I return home.”
It was no wonder Garam had sent her to bunk with him. It made sense to keep the oddities of the army together. The gryphon's presence was strangely comforting, made him feel less out of place. He stared at the ground, his eyes unfocused. “I didn't plan on heading to Aldaan, you know. I never wanted to be part of the army. Didn't plan on staying part of it.”
Her ear tufts lifted. “What made you change your mind?”
A wry smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Hope.”
She remained quiet for a time, though she eventually lowered her head to scrutinize him with one golden eye. He felt her studying every nuance of his features, from the cracked claw on one toe to the shadow of hunger that hadn't yet left his face.
“You've seen hardship,” she murmured.
“Who hasn't?”
“But you aren't used to it. I can tell. I can see it in the way you carry your head.” Her voice softened, her tone motherly. “You're right, struggles come for everyone. But how we emerge from hardship has a way of changing us. Sometimes the things we perceive as misfortune are actually greater forces pushing us in the direction we're meant to go.”
Rune's eyes narrowed as he considered that, the events of the past year rolling over in his head. A fall from being royalty to being a mere prisoner intended for slaughter. A path marked by one long string of misfortunes, mistakes, and misunderstanding. If there were greater forces at work, he couldn't see them. Nor could he see how his place on the path to Aldaan was anything other than coincidence. Remarkable mages could have been found anywhere.
The only thing about the situation that struck him as unusual was the fact the mages he sought were Aldaanan. Too many things were Aldaanan. His given name, his language, his magic, his chance for normalcy. That, too, could have been coincidence; old countries spread their influence far and wide. But he couldn't help but feel there was something else, something missing. Something pushing me there, he thought.