by H. L. Burke
Finally deciding she’d read enough, Arynne set aside her scrolls and covered them with a cloth so that she wouldn’t risk losing them to a loose spark. There was hardly any sun here to draw from, and no fire. That meant if she wanted to practice her magic, she’d have to pull from her untested inner fire. According to the scroll, the first thing she needed to master was holding a sustained flame within her hand. It suggested working with flames pulled from a candle or other small source of fire.
Arynne breathed in, held it, then let her air out again several times. Feeling sufficiently calm, she extended her right hand before her and gazed at her open palm. She imagined the warmth in her blood trickling rather than rushing into her arm. She imagined it filling her hand as a stream of water would fill a bowl, as sand would slowly pour into the bottom half of a sandclock, as—
Whoosh!
Flames burst into the sky as her power escaped in a rush, sending a beacon of fire several feet into the air. Elfrida ducked for cover, and Arynne gasped, falling backwards onto the deck.
Kajik came running, his footsteps pounding on the wooden walkway. “Are you all right?”
Swallowing her chagrin, Arynne gave a curt nod. “It’s a process.”
“First time I traveled, I misjudged the distance and smacked face first into a wall.” He laughed. “I understand how it works. Carry on.”
He walked off.
Shaking her head at her own clumsiness, Arynne tried again. This time instead of imaging a trickle, she pictured a single grain of sand, a white-hot point of heat no bigger than a speck of dust separating from the whole and rolling slowly down the length of her arm. Heat traveled through her arm-bones into her wrist. A glowing point consolidated in her palm. She held her breath, staring at it, willing it to grow. It sprang to life, two tongues of flame no bigger than leaves on a sapling tree, hovering over her hand. They danced together until her lungs screamed for air. She opened her mouth with a quick in-breath, and the flames blinked out.
Elfrida smiled at her. “That’s a start.”
Arynne’s insides quivered with joy. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, then somehow she forced out the words, “Yes, a start.”
Each subsequent flame grew a little brighter and lasted a little longer. She tried increasing the imagined speck from a sand grain to a peppercorn and finally to the size a plum. The skin on her palm blistered, but surprisingly did not hurt—at least not while the magic was active. Whenever she let the power fade to nothing, her skin stung, but she remedied this by immediately reaching for her magic again. The scroll had said that eventually the magic would become infused in her skin, toughening it so she no longer felt pain or suffered injury from her own fire. She was vaguely aware of Kajik keeping an eye on her progress. She tried not to let it disturb her. After all, he understood that she was new to using her powers.
After perhaps a hundred flames summoned, she managed to create one the size of a plume from a black-feathered ostrich. It flickered in her hand like a beacon, dancing in the cool wind coming off the water. She fed it with her magic, and it grew, reaching higher and higher until it towered in her hand nearly as tall as the ship’s mast. She gave a cry of triumph which drew all eyes to her.
“I did it!”
Before she could bask too long in her victory, the warmth rushed out of her body in a great wave, sending an unwanted burst through the pillar of fire. It blazed brighter for a split second, then poofed out like a candle flame against a breath. Her knees knocked together. Her arms shook like a plucked fiddle string, and she collapsed, shivering.
She was cold. Achingly, agonizingly cold.
“Princess!” Elfrida gasped.
“Arynne!” Kajik rushed to them. He knelt beside her and touched her face. “You’re freezing! Quick, Elfrida, grab her some blankets. In that chest over there.” He pointed to a container piled among the luggage. Elfrida hurried to obey.
Kay pulled off his cloak and draped it around Arynne’s shoulders. Her teeth chattered. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs.
“There you go. I’ve got you,” Kajik whispered. He briskly rubbed her arms and back. Blood returned to her limbs, but she couldn’t stop shivering.
“Here!” Elfrida returned with a large fur blanket in her arms. Kajik wrapped this around Arynne and drew her against his chest.
“How does playing with fire make you cold?” His warm breath tickled her forehead.
Arynne thought back through her reading. There had been a warning about this. One she’d chosen to skim over as it hardly seemed something to worry about when she couldn’t even manage a sustained flame.
“I ... It ... it’s because I drew too much on my own inner heat for the fire.” Her chattering teeth made her sound like an idiot. She clenched her jaw until it hurt.
“Ah, that makes sense. You sent all your fire into the sky and kept none for yourself.” He continued to rub her back and shoulders. “Anything I can do?”
She leaned into him, savoring his warmth. “N ... no ... just ... keep doing what you’re doing, please.”
“Of course.”
Warmth slowly crept back into Arynne’s limbs, bringing along with it a heavy drowsiness. Vaguely aware of a panicked Elfrida smothering her with the offer of more and more blankets and the strength of Kay’s arms around her, Arynne gave in and drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke the sky above her was tinged with deep purple except for a pale strip of orange light on the horizon at the boat’s stern. Someone—Kay most likely—had moved her to the stern of the boat where a pile of furs amongst the luggage made a cozy bed. She could hear laughter and murmuring voices drifting over the water from closer to the prow. She sat up, still clutching her blankets around her. The blankets beside her heaved and a figure sat up from amongst them: Elfrida.
“You’re finally awake. You had us worried for a while there.” The older woman brushed a hand across Arynne’s forehead. “That boy fussed over you for an hour until I agreed to stay with you. I didn’t think you needed to be watched, but it was the only way to get him to stop hovering over you like an anxious bird over its nest.”
It took a moment for Arynne to realize that by “boy,” Elfrida had to mean Kajik. She would hardly call him a boy, though she supposed Elfrida was old enough to be his mother, so it was excusable.
“Well, it’s his mission to get me to Frorheim alive—all of their mission.” Arynne waved her hand towards where the Frorians bunched near the other side of the ship, some rowing, others laughing and talking.
“He’s taking it personally, though. More so than the rest of them.” Elfrida’s eyes glinted in the twilight.
“He’s a good man. Kind. A bit of a rogue, but I can forgive him that for his other qualities.” Arynne pulled the blankets closer about her neck.
Elfrida continued to stare her down. “You do realize he’s lying to you, don’t you?”
Arynne started. “How so?”
“He’s not a starwarden.”
Arynne tilted her head. She’d had a suspicion that Kajik was hiding something from her, but not that. “How do you know?”
“He might be a warden, but he’s too young to be a starwarden.” Elfrida sniffed. “A starwarden is the highest rank in the wardens. Unless things have changed greatly in years I’ve been away—which I would say might be a possibility—it requires fifteen starcycles of service to achieve that rank. Considering the youngest they allow recruits is sixteen, and also considering that fellow is obviously still working on his first beard, he’s far too young.”
“The others all call him that, though, and they act as if he has rank,” Arynne pointed out. “Maybe he was meritoriously promoted? Or it could be because of family influence?”
“Maybe, but I’ve never heard of that happening before.”
Arynne gazed towards the prow. She could discern Kajik’s silhouette easily enough. He was the tallest of the men by a good hand and his build slimmer than most as well. He also had a way of walking that w
as ... well, him. A confident, light stride with more grace to it than the average man. It made her suspect he’d be an excellent dancer. “Should I confront him?”
“I wouldn’t ... yet. I don’t get a sense he is trying to deceive you for ill. There’s something else afoot.” Elfrida shook her head. “Still, keep an eye on him. On all of them—”
Footsteps on the boards shut both women’s mouths.
Kajik approached. “Glad to see you up. We just caught sight of the far shore, so not much longer until we make land. Thought you’d like to take a look.”
“Of course.” Arynne stood up, dropping her blankets. She immediately regretted this as the chill winds began probing her garments for weaknesses. Elfrida picked a fur-lined cloak off the pile of luggage and wrapped it around Arynne’s shoulders. Then, together, they followed Kajik towards the prow.
Arynne squinted. The dark hills loomed over the water, and it was difficult to discern where one began and the other ended. The sunlight no longer touched the horizon.
Kajik bent so his head was even with hers and held his arm out straight so she could follow it with her eye. “Right there. You see it.”
She squinted towards where he was pointing. A faint light flickered. “Is that ... a torch?”
“More likely a full-sized bonfire.” He smiled. “We’re still a good ways off shore, so for us to see it, it’s a large fire. It’s not the only one either, just the biggest.” He reached into his coat and produced a spyglass which he handed to Arynne.
With the spyglass to her eye, Arynne scanned the horizon. She could now see the tongues of the bonfire. Sweeping her gaze along the shore, other smaller fires also became apparent.
“A lot of trapping and fishing communities keep settlements on the far shore. We left our guides there when we crossed the water. They should be looking out for us.” He took the spyglass from her and stowed it away again. “I’m going to see about some food. Yan’s dragging a line beside the boat, so my guess is we’ll have fresh fish for dinner.” He strode off leaving the two women standing at the bow.
Elfrida edged closer staring over the water. “I forgot how quiet this part of the world is. It’s so peaceful.”
“We’re almost to your home.” Arynne squeezed Elfrida’s hand. “Are you excited to see it again?”
The woman gave a slow nod then turned her gaze to the purple heavens. She gasped. “Princess, look!” She pointed skyward.
A small point of white light twinkled over the hilltops.
“What is that?” Arynne frowned.
“It’s a star.” Elfrida’s voice shook. She gripped Arynne’s shoulder, her whole body trembling. “Oh, Arynne, I never thought I’d see a star again.”
Warmth spread through Arynne as she watched Elfrida admire the single, twinkling star. Whatever else came out of this venture, it would be worth it just for the joy on the woman’s face.
Chapter Ten
When the Frorians moored their vessel upon the rocky shore of the Skymere Sea, they found two men waiting for them, having seen their signals a ways off. These two weren’t Frorians, having olive skin similar in shade to the herds folk of the mountainous badlands who sometimes traded with the Soleans. Rafal turned his nose up at them and hung back with the luggage allowing Ivak and Kay to speak with them in a throaty, rich language Arynne had never heard before.
“They’re from the Gloaming,” Elfrida explained. “They make their living escorting travelers and transporting goods through that region to the shipping centers on the seaside.”
“So they’re merchants?”
“More aptly guides. The Gloaming’s unpredictable, subject to storms fierce enough to drastically change the face of the land, so the few people who live there are nomadic, moving ahead of the weather with what they can carry on their backs. They have little to trade, but they know the ways better than most. If a merchant has need to transport their goods through the Gloaming, they are more likely to entrust it to a guide than to attempt the journey on their own.”
Arynne’s mouth wrinkled in sudden realization. “And in this case, I’m ‘the goods,’ aren’t I?”
Elfrida laughed. “Well, you are their precious cargo.”
Kajik linked forearms with the guide in some sort of greeting or agreement before turning from them and approaching Arynne.
“How many languages do you speak?” She tilted her head to one side.
“Three, counting my native tongue, but my Gloamspeak is barely passable.” He glanced back at the guides, mouth quirking in displeasure. “I’m pretty sure they mock my accent whenever I’m out of earshot, but I know enough to negotiate passage. We’ll camp here for a moonnotch, to get the gear ready and give the men a chance to regain their land legs after so long on the water. Then our journey starts through the Gloaming. According to the guides, this is the best time to leave. There haven’t been any major storms in the area lately, and the paths should be clear allowing swift passage.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking of land legs, I was about to take a stroll along the waterfront. Would you care to join me?” He offered Arynne his hand.
She gazed at it skeptically. “Alone? Would that be appropriate for the future bride of your prince?”
He withdrew his hand. “I am also your caretaker for this journey so some trust will be required. I thought maybe we could speak of the court, and I could help you prepare for what you will encounter there. As I have mentioned, I’ve met your groom, Prince Olyn. Perhaps you have questions for me that you might not wish to ask in earshot of the entire crew?”
Arynne let out a long breath. She had barely allowed herself to think about that. After all, she’d made the bargain to get out from under Vanya’s thumb and get a chance to practice her magic. The marriage to Prince Olyn—well, marriage had been an inevitability her entire life. Still, she’d have to face the reality of it sooner or later. “I would walk with you.” She turned to Elfrida. “I won’t be long. Would you make sure our belongings are handled properly by the porters?”
Elfrida nodded.
Taking Kajik’s hand, Arynne followed him along the shore of the great sea. The water lapped the rocky shores with a gentle, rhythmic pulse. The far horizon gleamed orange and purple, casting dappled light over the water while leaving this far shore cloaked in shadows.
“You said earlier that you vouched for Prince Olyn as a friend. Is there something you left out?”
“No. I have no criticism of the prince. I trust he will treat you well. If anything he tries too hard to keep those around him content and would sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of peace with others.” He laughed. “In all likelihood, the poor fellow will need protection from you. Try to go easy on him, all right?” He winked at her.
She stuck her nose in the air. “I shall do as I please.”
“I’m sure you will.” He chuckled.
“And the king?” she prodded.
“Ah, King Evyd.” He clicked his tongue. “Tell me, Princess Arynne, what is the most stubborn, foul-tempered creature in your homeland? In Frorheim, it would be a bull moss-elk, easily angered, prone to hitting its head against solid walls of ice rather than admit defeat and walk around a barrier.”
Arynne considered this for a while. She had little experience with animals outside of a few palace pets, but she knew some things from her studies. “I would say a dune mule. They have similar temperaments as you describe for your moss-elk. Strong, sturdy beasts of burden who can travel far on a sip of water and a mouthful of dry grass, but they have been known to drown themselves rather than leave river banks at flood and will kick and bite if you try to lead them.”
“Yes, sounds about right. King Evyd is a dune mule, a proud, ill-tempered old man who would die a thousand deaths before he accepted the advice of another.”
Arynne’s shoulders hunched towards her ears. She’d had enough of stubborn monarchs telling her what to do. “Do you think he will be displeased with me?”
“I think he only
cares about whether or not you will fulfil the prophecy by marrying his son—and that you provide a heir for the kingdom when the time comes.” Kajik coughed. “But I would assume you understood such things were a part of the duties of a bride of a future king?”
Heat raged beneath her skin, but she forced her tone steady. “I am willing to carry a child for the prince.”
“Good to know.” He avoided looking at her, staring out towards the sun instead. A purple-tinged cloud floated across the horizon as a thought crossed Arynne’s mind.
“I have never heard anyone mention the queen,” she said.
Kajik started. “What queen?”
“The king’s wife? Prince Olyn’s mother? No one has spoken of her.”
“Oh.” Kajik’s gaze dropped to his boots. “She ... she’s dead.”
“How so? Did you ever meet her?” He seemed to have a great deal of familiarity with the royal family.
“Not that I can remember. She died twenty-one starcycles ago.” His voice tightened. Arynne shut her mouth. She hadn’t expected the question to produce an emotional response, especially if he’d never even met the woman.
They took a few more steps in silence before Kajik spoke again. “From what I’ve heard she was the opposite of King Evyd in every way, patient, kind, gentle ... with blue eyes as clear as lake-ice and hair as dark as the evening sky. The stories say she was the only one who could soothe his temper, and the court hasn’t known joy since her death.”
“That’s sad,” Arynne whispered. “And Prince Olyn?”
“He scarcely remembers her, though it’s said he has his mother’s eyes and I ... that brings him some comfort, I suppose.”
She sighed. “It would be hard to have only stories. My parents have been dead for many years, but I treasure the memories. Especially of my mother.”
His hand strayed to her shoulder. “Some would say that your arrival will usher in a new era for the court, a new princess and future queen, hope for our future, joy for our prince.”