by Aldrea Alien
Frowning, Tracker faced her. “I will not warn you again, my dear. Do not stand in my way.”
She stepped back, turning from them, her lips parting.
No sound came. Her mouth dropped open. Blood, the torchlight turning it to a black trickle, ran down one side of her face, blossoming from the small blade embedded in her temple. Authril crumpled to the ground, her head hitting the paving with a sick crack and driving the throwing knife deeper into her skull.
Tracker straightened. “We need to leave.” He vaulted aboard the other horse and snatched up the lax reins of Dylan’s mount before urging his own on.
Dylan clung to the horse’s mane. Everything seemed to be moving far faster than it had a right to. Authril… She couldn’t be dead. He twisted aboard the animal to stare over his shoulder, hoping that simple act would alter the truth. But no, Authril still lay in the stable entrance with blood pooling around her. “You killed her,” he mumbled, trying to understand the fullness of what he’d witnessed. “You said you wouldn’t.”
“So long as she did not attempt to endanger you, yes.”
“But… Why?” She’d done nothing to harm them. Sure, she’d believed spellsters were better off being leashed, but Dylan doubted there were many ordinary folk who thought otherwise. That was no reason to kill her. “She was our friend.”
“Friend?” Tracker snarled, shooting Dylan a glare over his shoulder. “She was no friend of mine. And a friend would not call for help to contain you, especially when they are warned of what will happen. However much she believed herself in the right, I could not allow her to summon aid. But that does not mean we are safe yet.” He kneed his horse into a lazy trot. The sound muffled as they crunched across the gravel paths amidst the gardens.
Dylan tightened his hold on the animal as his mount picked up the pace. “You don’t know what she planned to do. You didn’t give her a chance.”
“I warned her and she ignored it.” Tracker’s horse slowed until both animals ran alongside each other. The elf’s hair bobbed with each of the animal’s bouncing steps. “Do you honestly think Authril was not the type of person to send people after us the moment her life was no longer in danger? She would have seen you leashed again.” He frowned, the waning moonlight turning his features stark. “And I swore another collar would never touch your neck. I will do anything within my power to keep that promise.”
Dylan’s hand had clutched his throat before he realised it. Taking a deep breath, He returned his grip to the horse’s mane. Anything. Death didn’t need to be the answer. “You could’ve knocked her out.” It probably would’ve taken more time than they had to spare, but at least she would still be alive. “Or you could’ve let me talk her into coming with us, into letting us go.”
“All of which would have only given her a chance to call out.” Tracker shook his head. “Honestly? I did her a favour. She had clearly chosen to stay. If the remaining hounds learnt she was there, then they would have tortured every scrap of knowledge from her. Including that of your friends. And if the hounds had reached us first… Well, we would have been made an example of. What I did was self-defence.”
“It was cold-blooded murder.” Even as the words left his lips, he could taste the hypocrisy on his tongue. How many hounds now rotted in the tunnels because of him?
Tracker shook his head. “Then call me a murderer if it makes you feel better, it is not the worst label I have known, but I swore I would protect you and I shall. Have your feelings for me changed because of it?”
“No.” The word leapt from his tongue as soon as his lips had parted enough to speak.
“Then that is all that matters.” His lover nodded at a shadow in the wall and dismounted. “We must go through here.”
Dylan followed the man as he disappeared into the darkness. Closer inspection revealed a door just wide enough for an unmounted horse to squeeze through. Tracker fiddled with a lock for a brief moment, the click of latches giving loud in the otherwise quiet. The door opened out to a series of narrow stairs carved into the cliff face and leading down to the streets.
They travelled silently down the path, walking in single file and taking pains to guide the horses. Dylan couldn’t help wondering how long it would take for others to find Authril’s body. Were they already searching the gates for signs of their departure? Who would think to check this door? What of in the city? Had news spread far enough to bar them leaving through the gates?
At the bottom of the stairs, Tracker once again helped Dylan aboard the horse. “Out of curiosity,” Dylan asked as he took up the reins. “What would you have done if I’d said otherwise, about loving you?”
Although Dylan couldn’t make out the man’s expression now they were in the shadow of the castle, Tracker’s low chuckle was clear enough. “I would say you are most fickle, but it would not change how I feel about you. Come.” Clicking his tongue, he took the lead through the streets.
The horses clattered along the mostly empty streets, their passage always leading them on a downward slope. It wasn’t the easiest—or the most comfortable—position to travel in whilst bareback, but at least it was at a gentle pace. He’d paid so little attention to the city on their way up, so consumed with his anger and what he’d been missing to see what was still there.
In the dark of early morning, the streets gained an ethereal edge.
Lights dotted the rows of buildings, mostly due to the dimly-glowing lanterns hanging at regular intervals along the street. Some of the light came from tiny windows up high or streamed through doorways to flood the cobblestones. Carts creaked along the wider streets, full of crates and sacks.
They passed a number of guards who watched them saunter by with disinterest. Dylan hazarded a guess that they were likely mercenaries or a wealthy merchant’s private guard rather than those paid by the city. None seemed to wear any sort of emblem denoting who they’d pledged their allegiance to.
Still, perhaps news hadn’t yet made its way down here. With luck, that meant the guards at the city gates wouldn’t stop them.
The shadow of the castle always seemed to be looming over them like a hulking beast on the horizon. It wasn’t until Tracker veered off the wider streets that Dylan lost sight of their position in relation to the castle.
There was less light to be had in the narrow streets and alleyways. Dylan nudged his mount closer to his lover’s, hunching his shoulders and praying Tracker remembered enough of the city’s layout from his childhood days to not get lost. Hopefully, their wandering also meant following them would prove difficult.
Eventually, the streets opened into an empty square. The horses’ hooves echoed as they lazily clopped across the cobblestones. Dylan’s gaze darted from one side of the square to the other. This didn’t look like the market squares of Whitemeadow or Oldmarsh. Everything was too neat and crisp.
A large oak took up the centre of the square, encircled with a moat and small footbridges. Dylan eyed the tree branches as they passed. Nothing but birds seemed to be nesting within the heavy foliage. Still, he continued to scrutinise the tree until they were well beyond anyone’s immediate reach.
His horse halted, snapping Dylan’s attention to the building towering over them. His lover had led them to the foot of a flight of stairs leading up to the place. Dylan took in the statues of the Seven Sisters standing either side of the steps and the gleam of crystal shining from the doorframe. Carved and gem-studded eyes seemed to wink back. A temple? “Why are we stopping here?”
Tracker had already dismounted and stood beside Dylan’s horse, his hands out in a silent offer of assistance. “Quickly.”
Still puzzled, Dylan wordlessly slithered off the horse and into his lover’s arms. “That’s not much of an answer.” The priests did gift the unfortunate and the lost a place to rest, so long as they served in the temple for the duration of their stay. He’d even heard rumours that suspected criminals could, for a time, claim sanctuary, but he rather doubted that would stop the ho
unds from dragging them into the streets.
Tracker grinned sheepishly. “The gates do not open until dawn, so we are rather stuck in Wintervale until then, regardless of what else transpires. We will also have to wait for a crowd to gather if we are to slip past the guards and… Well, it is a long way to the border. A distance we might not make, if I am entirely honest. If the gods’ will it that we are to fall, then I want it plain to them that I—” His mouth moved silently, then closed. He still couldn’t say it.
“It’s all right, Track.” Dylan clasped his lover’s hands. “I know.”
The elf’s brows lifted as they drew together. Tracker slowly dropped to one knee. “I want to marry you before we go any further. In case we do not get another chance.”
Dylan’s chest tightened a little at the declaration. He bit his lip, caution stalling the very eager affirmation bubbling in his throat. “We just killed a lot of people. Your fellow hounds, those two men—”
Tracker snorted. “The world will not miss their kind.”
“Authril.”
His lover looked away and, for a brief moment, something that looked suspiciously like regret stamped itself on the man’s face. “I cannot undo what was done.”
Dylan folded his arms. That was true. Even the most skilled of healers wouldn’t have been able to fix the damage caused by a blade to the skull.
“It was the most efficient way to keep her from sounding the alarm. I did it only—”
“—to protect me?” Dylan finished. “No more death, Track. No more killing unless my life is at risk in that moment.”
Tracker stared up at him. His cheeks hollowed and the faint twist on his lips almost suggested that he sucked on something unpleasant. But he nodded. “If that is your wish, then I will endeavour to abide by it. But I would still like to marry you before dawn.”
“Are you certain we’ve time to?” He glanced over his shoulder. No one else walked the square. Yet. “Wouldn’t it be a bit dangerous?” Maybe there was another way to leave the city without resorting to the gates. “Do you really want to risk being caught just so we’re married?”
“Just? Darling, I cannot quantify what I feel for you in mere words, but there is no just to it. And depending on who finds us first, they may very well seek to keep us apart. But if we marry and they take this life, we can travel the river and face the Seven Sisters together just as the temple songs say. I do not fancy being adrift in a tunnel for longer than necessary, even in the afterlife.”
Dylan knew of the chant he spoke of, it was the same story he’d sung about when they’d barely known each other. It seemed like years had passed since then. Hard to imagine it hadn’t quite been two months. “I don’t know if we should really hinge our future prospects on a chant.”
One corner of Tracker’s mouth hitched upwards. “It is all I have left,” he whispered. “That and you. Besides, I have done as you asked of me. You are unleashed and free of the army.” He lifted Dylan’s hand and kissed the back of it. “All I desire is to make you my husband.”
Husband. The word rattled around his brain. It sounded strange and wonderful all at once. Dylan let his gaze wander to where the castle stood outlined in the greying light of approaching dawn. There was still a little time before the city gates opened and a brief ceremony would be less suspicious than lingering.
Would the hounds even think to look in a temple for them? Unlikely. The hounds would head for the gates first to try and stop them. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Grinning, Tracker stood. They secured the horses to a nearby post before the man led Dylan up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and through the massive doors.
Dylan slowed as they entered the building. He’d never been in a temple. The tower might’ve had a place of worship and he’d been expected to attend at least twice a month along with everyone else, but it looked nothing like this.
They stood at the opening to a chamber easily stretching three stories high and perhaps just as long. Glowing, smoking braziers hung at intervals down the chamber and candles lit up the pillar at the end, but their glow was paltry compared to the moonlight streaming through the vast panes of glass on either side of the lone pillar.
The pale light illuminated the huge stone pillars supporting the arched roof. There were seven in all, three on either side and one at the far end. Each one carved into a depiction of the Sisters who guarded the passage of the Eternal River.
He trailed behind Tracker as they padded deeper into the temple. The six Sisters on either side of them brandished various weapons, whilst the lone Sister at the end of the chamber stood with her arms open in an eternal offer of a warm embrace. That had to be Olwyn, Forgiver of Sins. Cool moonlight flanked the pillar whilst the ruddy glow of the candles illuminated the base.
The rapid patter of feet drew his attention. Dylan turned as a woman garbed in a soft blue robe appeared from behind one of the pillars and trotted over to their side.
“Blessed children,” the priestess murmured, crossing her hands over her heart and bowing her head. “What do you seek of the gods’ at such an early hour?”
Tracker wrapped his arm around Dylan’s waist and pulled them together. “Marriage, dear sister. We seek someone who can marry us.”
She frowned. “You two wish to be wed? Now? That is a most irregular request to make before sunrise.”
“I know. But we cannot wait until then.”
The priestess’ gaze flicked between them, visibly taking in their attire. Her brows lifted as she seemed to finally realise Tracker was armed. Dylan couldn’t help but shuffle his feet at that. Could she mark the man’s attire? Was that why she seemed so surprised?
Soft comprehension swiftly dawned on the woman’s face, parting her lips. She turned to Tracker. “You are in the army, child.” Her gaze briefly settled on Dylan. “And he is not joining you.”
“Yes!” Tracker blurted, latching onto the woman’s misunderstanding. “That is precisely it.” The hand clasping Dylan’s waist grew tighter. “He is not a man of action, as you can see, and with my company leaving at dawn, I need a little spiritual assurance of his safety when I am no longer at his side.”
The priestess lips flattened in a disapproving scowl. “You have not given yourself much time.”
“My fault,” Dylan said before the man could weave a more absurd story. “I didn’t believe he was serious until now.”
Tracker grinned up at him. “But you do now, yes?”
The priestess shook her head and, trying to conceal a soft laugh with her sleeve, motioned them to follow her. “Come, children. This way, if you please.” She led them behind the nearest pillar to a small room lit by a single candle and possessing only a padded bench pushed up against the wall. “You may wait here whilst I wake Mother Wynn.” The woman closed the door behind her as she left.
Dylan caught the trembling tightness of his lover’s grip on his hand. “Nervous?” he whispered into the man’s ear.
“Surprisingly, yes. I am a little.” Tracker smiled, the expression wavering at the corners. “I…” He shrugged and released Dylan’s hand. “I have seen a wedding, but I never imagined myself being a part of one.”
Dylan settled on the bench. “Well, that’s more experience than I have with this.”
Tracker grimaced. “The one I saw was not a happy occasion in the end. I had to inform the bride I was taking her husband. I hear one of the hounds took her newborn six months later to become part of the pack…” The words trickled off as the man turned from him. “I hope—”
“Is this going to be enough?” The words were out before Dylan could stop them. They hung in the air, coaxing more from his lips. “If we make it to Dvärghem, it’s not going to be like when we’re travelling.”
His lover whipped around, confusion creasing his brow. “And why would it not be the same? We will be together, yes?”
Dylan nodded. Them being together was the only certainty he currently had on their future. “We won�
�t be on the move all the time, though. It’ll be the same thing day in, day out.”
Tracker’s bewilderment had moved on to wrinkle his nose. “I guess that is a possibility. What of it?”
“I’ve spent most of my life in the tower, I’m used the cycle of an endless routine. But you can’t have settled for long in one place since being made a hound. What would you even do in Dvärghem?” As far as he was aware, the dwarves had no use for a man of Tracker’s expertise. “All I can offer you is a life of monotony.”
Concern flickered across his lover’s face. “Are you hearing what you are saying? Because I really do not think you are.”
He was, but he couldn’t stop. Like a slow-moving landslide, the constricting thought of what all this entailed seemed to have caught up with him. “Maybe this is happening too fast. I just think that perhaps we should wait.” He wanted the sort of life Tracker was offering him, but not if choosing that path would leave his lover regretting their haste.
“Why wait?” Tracker pressed. “Is it in case I suddenly decide I do not feel this way? That I will not want you anymore?” Anger, hot and raw, twisted his mouth. “I have slaughtered my kinsmen, forsaken everything I was taught to be, committed treason… all to keep you safe.” He poked Dylan’s chest with a finger. “You! If you are nervous, then be that with me—I have never done anything like this and I cannot even begin to think what will happen once we are beyond Demarn’s borders—but do not dare stand there with the gall to think a life with you will be boring when just being with you makes me feel more alive!”
Dylan bowed his head, a gentle bout of laughter curving his lips. “I love you, too.”
Those long fingers cupped Dylan’s chin, tilting his head back up until he was forced to meet Tracker’s gaze. “Just as well, I would think,” his lover purred. “Or this marriage of ours might get a touch awkward.”
“You’re going to miss wandering the land,” Dylan warned. “Maybe not at first, but eventually.”