by H. L. Burke
Rubbing her arms beneath the cloak, Arynne balanced along the trough, picking her way over cushions and discarded garments, to where Vanya stood, watching porters cart Arynne’s belongings down a ramp. Arynne hadn’t wanted to bring much with her. Her Solean dresses would not be practical in the Frorian cold. However, Vanya insisted a princess should never travel light, so he had provided her with gifts for her future husband and father-in-law. Casks of precious oils and aged wine, jars of honey and spices, silks and textiles some native to Solea, others purchased or imported from their many allies. It was a great show of wealth—perhaps to ease his pride over accepting the Frorian’s crystals. Elfrida went with the porters, carrying a small bundle of Arynne’s actual belongings—oils for her hair, her favorite jewelry, small trinkets that would remind her of home. She would see that they were safely stowed for her princess. Arynne was sure of that.
Vanya didn’t even look up as his sister approached, keeping his eyes on the workers as he spoke. “Here is where we part.”
It took her a moment to realize he was, in fact, addressing her. She gave a silent nod and stood beside him. A sudden longing to part on good terms, to forget all that had been said between them, overcame her. After all, what good would it be to continue an argument when they would no longer speak?
“You will pass my regards to our sisters and your family?” she asked. Her sister-in-law had always been kind to her, though perhaps a little awkward in her role. Arynne couldn’t blame her for that. It had to have been odd for a young bride, pregnant with her own first child, to suddenly be put in charge of an orphan girl. Leyal had done her best to make her feel welcomed, even as concerns for her own infants had consumed her.
The last porter deposited his bundle on the Frorian barge and returned. Behind him followed Rafal and Kajik, now wearing heavy cloaks over their tunics.
Rafal bowed and launched into a long and obviously rehearsed speech about the dawn of a new age of friendship between their nations, of trade, and of prosperity. It contained all the bywords politicians and diplomats loved to spout, like a drunken minstrel slurring a ballad. Kajik, however, kept his eyes on Arynne. She flushed, somehow uncomfortable under his gaze. Turning towards her brother, she found to her surprise that he was studying Kajik, not Rafal.
Rafal finished his spiel and stepped back with a bow.
“And you, Starwarden Kajik?” Vanya addressed the younger man. “You remember your promises?”
Kajik clasped his hands and imitated the Solean bow. “I hardly claim to be the ideal man, King Vanya, but my word is my chain. She will be protected. She will be treasured. She will be loved.”
A shiver cut through her at the sincerity of Kajik’s voice. How could he promise such things? Did he know Prince Olyn’s heart?
“Good.” Vanya turned to her. “Remember my words, little one, but more than that, remember my love.”
An empty ache swelled beneath her breastbone. “I will, brother.” She bowed before him, but he placed his finger beneath her chin and raised her up so he could kiss her forehead. Then with a great sigh, he offered her hand to Kajik. “I expect word with the next merchant out of your land, of her safe arrival and well-being.”
“Of course,” Rafal and Kajik said as one.
Kajik’s fingers felt strange but somehow comforting around hers. Without another look back, he led her towards the Frorian’s barge. Rafal hurried ahead, barking orders at the crew who began to scurry about, fussing with ropes, sails, and cargo. Kajik, however, continued at a steady pace beside her.
“If you have doubts, if you even think for a moment you might wish to turn back, you need to speak now,” he murmured.
Her shoulders hunched. “No. I am certain.”
“Are you?” He tilted his head. “Because once we cross the Skymere getting you home ceases to be a matter of an awkward conversation and starts to become a dangerous journey.”
“I have made my choice.” She kept her eyes ahead, refusing to look back.
The shouts of the crewmen rose over the lapping of the water against the shore.
“I see that. Well, we have only completed half of our journey. I’ve set up a tent of sorts on the barge, not much, but it will give you some privacy. I’m sure you’ll want to change into warmer clothing before we get underway.”
“Thank you.” Arynne sighed. She had wondered when she would get a chance to dress more appropriately. Even with her fur-lined cloak, her skin continued to prickle with cold.
They strode up the gangplank. The Frorian’s barge was narrower than the Solean one, with oars as well as sails. As Kajik had promised, a small tent sat near the stern, amongst the cargo of gifts. Elfrida waited beside it. Kajik escorted her towards it, along a narrow walkway between the rower’s seats.
“Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a skin-wrapped bundle. “We’re now technically outside of Solea, so I can give you these without violating my promise to your brother.”
Her heart leaped within her. “Magic scrolls?”
He smiled and nodded. “I was told these will bestow the basic knowledge you need to master your magic.”
It took all of Arynne’s self-control not to rip open the bundle and begin reading then and there. Instead she gently took them from his hands and clasped them to her chest. “I will treasure them. Thank you, Starwarden Kajik.”
He laughed. “Kay, please. We’ll be traveling together for some time. I’d like to do so as friends.”
“Kay.” She let the name roll across her tongue. “Yes. I like that ... and you may call me Arynne.” She flushed. That didn’t seem as much of an allowance, though she imagined Vanya would not approve of dropping the title of princess in conversation with a man who described himself as a glorified soldier—though somehow she knew Kay was more than that. How so, she wasn’t sure, but with how he conducted himself, with how he’d won Vanya over, there was more to him.
What more, well, she’d find out sooner or later.
Chapter Eight
Inside the privacy tent an unlit candle sat on top of a crate next to a pile of garments. After setting her scrolls down beside the clothes, Arynne summoned her magic to light the candle then picked up the first item. It unrolled revealing a pair of leggings of soft white wool. Arynne squinted at them.
“Can I enter?” a muffled feminine voice called.
“Yes. Come in.” Arynne knew the voice and didn’t bother to turn around.
Elfrida entered behind her. “I thought you might need some help figuring out what goes where.”
Arynne grimaced and held out the leggings. “I know what these are. They just seem so ... masculine.”
Elfrida chuckled and pinched the fabric. “My, those are soft. You’re lucky princess. The ones I wore as a girl made my skin itch worse than spider’s feet.”
Arynne sat and wrestled to get the close fitting leggings over her feet and up her legs. With this finally accomplished, she sloughed off her Solean robes and allowed Elfrida to slip first a white under-dress of similar texture to the leggings and then a purple outer garment with no sleeves but straps that held it in place. Finally Elfrida tied a belt around Arynne’s middle.
Feeling bulky and not as feminine as she’d like, Arynne wished she had a mirror. She shifted, pulling at the her skirt to keep it from bunching about the middle.
“You look fine.” Elfrida touched her shoulder. She pointed to the remaining clothing on the crate. “There also appears to be woolen socks and an overcoat, but I don’t think it’s cold enough just yet for those. You may wish to wear the boots, though?” She bent down and picked the footwear off the floor.
“Yes, I’d prefer not to walk about barefoot.” Arynne slipped the shoes over her feet and wiggled her toes. She actually liked the way they cocooned her feet. Taking a moment to collect her scrolls again, she nodded to Elfrida. “I’m ready.”
Elfrida held open the tent flap for Arynne to duck under. A little ways down the length of the ship,
two Frorians—Tor and Soryl, if she remembered correctly—sat on their haunches, tossing dice along the deck. At her approach, they hopped to their feet.
Soryl whistled. Her cheeks warmed.
“Soryl!” Tor elbowed the other man in the ribs. “She’s a princess.”
“Princesses like compliments, too!” Soryl winced and rubbed his side.
“Soryl making a jackass of himself again?” Kajik came up behind them, eyebrows arched.
“As usual.” Tor grunted.
Not wanting to seem delicate, Arynne held up her hand. “It’s all right. It seems you Frorians are more casual about rank than is the norm in Solea. I will have to get used to such things.”
“No, you’re our guest, and we should accommodate you, not the other way around.” Kajik frowned at Soryl. “Do you want to go swimming? Because if the princess gives the word, I will toss you overboard.”
“Oh, come on, Kay. I didn’t mean any harm.” Soryl cringed.
Kajik jerked his thumb towards the prow. “We’re casting off as soon as the cargo is secure. Go see what you can do to help. You too, Tor. Gambling can wait until we’re underway.”
Tor tossed his diced into the air, caught them again, and then tucked them into a pouch at his belt. “Wasn’t gambling, sir. These are my lucky dice. Was just using them to bless the journey.”
“Well, then bless the journey by getting us in the water faster.”
“Yes, sir.” Tor and Soryl hurried off.
Kajik glanced her over. “Frorian garb does suit you, though, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I don’t mind. It suits you as well.” She kept her tone dry, though it was hard not to allow her eyes to linger on his broad shoulders beneath his cloak.
“Starwarden!” Rafal shouted from the prow. “The Solean’s are casting off.”
Kajik offered her his hand. “Shall we?”
She slipped her fingers into his. “Thank you, Kay.”
His smile brightened his face. They walked the length of the ship together then stood side by side as dock workers pushed the Solean barge into the water. Vanya stood at the shore, his hand extended. Arynne released Kajik to return the gesture. For a moment her heart ached, and she wanted to shout to her brother, to tell him she’d miss him, that she loved him.
The sails furled and the boat drifted away, onto the river draining off the great Skymere Sea. Her throat tightened. They stood and watched until the figures on the Solean vessel grew too small to see clearly.
“You all right?” Kay whispered.
She nodded, but a tear slipped down her cheek in spite of her best efforts. Flushing, she turned away.
“Let’s get underway.” Rafal snapped his fingers at Ivak who in turn motioned to his men to start preparations.
Kajik walked Arynne back towards her tent. She clutched at her scrolls, hoping whatever they offered her would be worth her decision.
“I imagine you want to start your studying.” He nodded towards her precious bundle then winked. “Try not to burn the ship down. At least not while I’m standing on it. We have at least another moonnotch before we reach the far shore of the sea, so the boat will be our home until then.”
“Moonnotch?” She furrowed her brow.
“It’s roughly an equivalent of a waking-time and a resting-time in your lands.” He pulled something out from his under shirt. From the chain about his neck hung a silver circle with a series of curved lines dividing its face. “You see the moon changes—phases we call them. As it grows and shrinks, we use it to track the passage of time. It will start a sliver and grow to a full circle, then fade to a sliver before being invisible for a notch, then beginning to grow again.” He glanced at the sky. “We aren’t far from moonrise now. Hopefully the sky is dark enough here for you to see it. Once past the Gloaming, it can seem a lantern in the sky for its brightness.”
She swallowed. “How long until we reach Frorheim now?”
“A moonnotch across the lake, perhaps five to travel through the Gloaming, assuming all goes well, then probably another five to travel through the pass and down the valley to the great Starspire and the city around it.”
Arynne nodded, but unease gnawed at her. All the stories she’d ever heard about the dark side of the world, all the tales she had dismissed as superstition and folklore, echoed in the back of her mind. “Is it a very dangerous trip?”
“All journeys have their dangers,” he said simply.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “From the lack of a direct response, I’m assuming the answer is yes. I’m not a child. You don’t need to hide things from me for fear I’ll panic.”
He stood a little straighter. “That wasn’t my intention. I simply was saying things as I see them.” He tucked his moon-pendant back under his shirt and waved at the dark hills on the horizon. “As a starwarden, I’ve spent the last several starcycles traveling throughout Frorheim, hunting grimwolves and keeping the passes clear for merchants. It is dangerous, but as someone accustomed to the ways of the land, it feels less so to me than the vast, waterless stretches of Solean desert beneath a sun hot enough to addle one’s wits—or the constant storms and many bandits of the Gloaming wilds, or even this great stretch of water where if your ship sinks you’d have no hope of swimming to land before you tire and drown.”
She nodded slowly. “Perspective is a large part of truth.”
“Indeed, it is.” A smile crept across his face. “There are dangers, but we are well prepared and will be traveling along proven paths. Also the men in this group are the best the wardens have to offer, and we’ve all sworn ourselves to your safety. Does that make you feel better?”
“A little.” She tried to push down her anxiety.
“There’s more bothering you, isn’t there?” He eased closer to her. “What is it?”
“It’s superstitious but ... the Soleans consider the dark side of the world forsaken by our god.”
“Ah yes, you mentioned that the Sun God couldn’t reach us. I’ve never given it much thought. We have our own faith, and it does not teach that we are so forsaken.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t, but ours teaches—well.” She fiddled with the scroll, uncertain if the story would offend. “According to Solean legend the Sun God caused the world to stop turning due to the sinfulness of man, depriving half the world of his life-giving presence. In that era, the world fell into chaos. Kingdoms fell. Great storms and floods ravaged the earth, and humanity was reduced to scattered groups of survivors.”
“For the most part, our legends are the same.” Kajik nodded. “Though we don’t call the deity behind it all the Sun God. In our legends he is not the sun, but the all-mighty spirit who made the sun, and everything else. We call him simply the Ever, for he was before the world began and will remain once it ends.”
“I suppose it would be hard to worship the sun in a land where you never see it.”
“In fairness, I’ve never seen the Ever either.” Kajik chuckled. “I suppose I believe he exists because he’s as good as explanation as any for why all this—” he swept his arm over the camp and the desert beyond, “—exists. Also the seers say he speaks to them through their visions and revelations and that all powers are granted by him. Traveling being a much less intimate use of magic than seeing, I’ve never had to consider where it comes from any more than I give much thought to how I walk or breathe.”
“And do you believe he cursed the dark side of the world? If so, do you feel safe living there?”
“We believe he stopped the world turning to disrupt human kingdoms that had grown , not specifically to curse the dark side, and we also believe that the magic abilities given to the founders of Frorheim—as well as the creation of the starshards—were gifts from him to allow us to fight back the darkness and retake the land.”
Arynne mulled this over. It seemed that the Sun God and the Ever had similar attributes, as she’d been taught the Sun God created the world and granted magic as well. Perhaps they w
ere the same being with different names? “Will Prince Olyn expect me to convert in order to be his bride?”
“Would you be willing to?” Kay tilted his head.
“I’ve never been particularly devout.” She shrugged. “Also it hardly makes sense to pray to the sun in a land of darkness.”
Kay whistled. “That was easier than I thought it would be. It is said that the Ever is the true enemy of the various evils that threaten Frorheim, and that he can offer protection from them through the powers of the starshards. I’m not sure whether I believe it, but since your religion teaches that the Sun God’s power doesn’t touch the darkness within Frorheim, our god might be a better protector for you on the journey.”
Arynne drew herself up taller. Yes, the protection of a god was good, but if she learned to control her magic, she could protect herself. That would be so much better.
Chapter Nine
Arynne devoured both scrolls in quick succession, eating as she read. Much of it she’d already known or guessed at, allowing her to skim large sections looking for new information. The Frorians left her alone for the most part, though Kay checked in on her every so often. The men busied themselves with the boat, taking turns at the oars—all except Rafal who positioned himself at the prow, his pale skin a touch green.
The great open waters of the inland sea provided a rougher journey than the smooth waters of the river. It took Arynne a while to adjust to the deck rolling beneath her, and for a while she feared she’d join Rafal, vomiting over the edge. Elfrida, however, advised her to take long deep breaths and frequent breaks from her reading until she adjusted, and eventually the unease in Arynne’s gut soothed away. Elfrida sat in silence, working at a bit of yarn with a hook as Arynne studied and the men worked. Though her mind was on her reading, Arynne appreciated the woman’s silent company. Any time a pang of regret for leaving home struck her, she’d look at Elfrida and feel like she hadn’t really left.