It had been on his mind the last few days, niggling at his consciousness after he learned his brother would be leaving him behind to take the journey of a lifetime with his mate. There was even talk Finn might not return from the journey, but Vilnjar hadn’t given himself much time to really think about it because he knew it would make him crazy. After everything he’d given up to come along and watch after his brother, he’d realized too late he had no choice but to let Finn go and do what he was meant to do. To make matters worse, the people of Dunvarak seemed to respect Finn because he was already accepted as Lorelei’s mate, even though Lorelei herself might have had a thing or two to say if anyone bothered to ask her.
He only knew he was an outsider in a strange new land, and though the people of Dunvarak were not much different than the U’lfer, he was not one of them. The few faces he did recognize, men like Hodon, who’d known his father, did not see the little boy anymore, but a grown man they knew nothing about except for what they gleaned from rumors over the years. He was a known member of the Council of the Nine, the very same council who turned Rognar over to Aelfric and signed away the U’lfer’s rights and freedoms.
“My house isn’t good enough for you now that your brother is gone?” Logren sneered over his shoulder at him, mustache twitching with derision and offense.
“It’s not that.” Vilnjar shook his head, trying to find a careful way to word what came next. “It’s just… I didn’t expect you’d want me to stick around once they were gone. That’s all. I thought you would expect me to… I don’t know, find another place.”
Logren stopped in the middle of the street and spun around to face Vilnjar with eyes narrowed in anger, both bright red brows bristling above them like streams of flickering fire. “And why wouldn’t I want you around? You think I only extended the courtesy of my hospitality to you to appease my sister?” The hardness in his voice was more complicated than simple offense. If Vilnjar didn’t know any better, he’d say Logren’s feelings were hurt. “Do you think if you’d come all this way without her, I’d have just left you on the other side of the mountain and gone on about my business?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
Vilnjar was still hugging his arms tight across his chest and when he leaned back to study the man across from him it looked almost as if he’d planned the whole thing very smugly. They did little else but bicker and try to one-up each other since they’d been reunited at the foot of Great Sontok, a near lifetime of bitterness and resentment hovering between them both like a dark cloud no wind was powerful enough to move so the light of the sun could break through.
“You don’t… Honestly? Because you were…” Logren stopped himself, words tumbling senselessly through his lips, head shaking, lines in his face softening as he started to relax and let go of his irrational anger. “You were only like a brother to me for the first nine years of my life. My first real friend. We made plans together, you and I. There were so many things we were meant to do.”
“That was another life...”
“It was this life,” he said. “This is the same life, Vilnjar. We are still the same people we were twenty years ago, only grown and altered by the events that shaped us and made us into men. Maybe we were parted by circumstances beyond our control, made to think the worst about each other…”
“I never thought the worst of you.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that we were close as brothers once.”
He seemed to have no regard for the bodies shuffling past them on the walk, the craning necks straining as they ducked around and on their way, trying desperately to hear the exchange between them.
Lowering his tone, he went on to add, “I thought of you every day, Vilnjar. Right up until the day you walked back into my life. I thought of you fondly, even when our sources told us you’d plunked your arse down in a cozy chair among the Council of the Nine. I convinced myself you weren’t like them because I remembered you and wished with all I had the gods would bring us back together again. But you met me at Great Sontok with resentment and loathing I do not understand, no matter how hard I try to wrap my brain around it.”
“I spent almost twenty years thinking you were dead! Do you have any idea what I went through? My mother dragging Rue and me through the streets as Vrinkarn burned behind us, knowing in my heart there was no way you or anyone else I cared about could have made it out of those fires. I mourned your loss with as much sorrow as I spent on my own father! Of course I resent you, Logren. You went on as if those of us who cared about you had no right to know you were even alive.”
He was shouting, hadn’t even realized the pitch of his voice until he noticed how quiet the street grew around them. Suddenly embarrassed, his face felt flush and hot, and he took a step back, lowering his head as if hiding his shame would make the looks and the heat disappear. Vilnjar cleared his throat, only tentatively lifting his head to find Logren staring at him in softened disbelief.
“Well, I’m sorry about that, but what did you want me to do? Write you a letter?”
“I don’t know, something. Anything… But there was nothing. Nothing but the grief and the loss of everything, everyone.”
“We were in hiding down here, for crying out loud. No one was supposed to know we were here until the time was right. I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to say?”
How could sorry be enough to quell the pain and anger of twenty years’ resentment? And yet there was something in the other man’s eyes that softened the hardness inside Vilnjar, made him long to set aside his bitterness and embrace the fact that death could be overcome in some ways. After all, the gods brought them back together, hadn’t they? Only it wasn’t enough, no matter how much he wanted it to be.
“It’s going to take a lot more than sorry to wash away more than half a lifetime of grief, Logren. I know…” he started, voice catching in the back of his throat and giving him pause to think through what he was about to say. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t able to make yourself known to me, but it’s going to take time for me to come to terms with the fact that you’re alive, well and have been so this entire time. Surely you won’t begrudge me that.”
“Of course not,” he said quietly. “But you can do it under my roof, for the time being anyway. Now that Lorelei’s away, and Bren with her, you can stay in the spare room.” As if he expected protest, he lifted his hand, preemptively stopping Vilnjar from replying. “And I won’t take no for an answer. In fact, I’ll tell anyone in Dunvarak who’ll listen they aren’t to put a roof over your head until I say they can.”
Logren was a hard man, but for the briefest of moments Vilnjar saw the familiar glimmer of his father’s softness in his eyes, the leaping fire of playful joy flickering within as he held out his hand in a gesture of peace.
“So,” he started, “will you be staying with me, or sleeping beyond the walls?”
“When you put it that way…” He accepted Logren’s hand, and for the first time since they’d been reunited, he didn’t feel the same bitterness inside. He felt the relief hidden behind it, begging silently to be felt.
“Good, now let’s go see if Viina’s planned anything for lunch. I’m starving.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Confinement to the barrier so long before sunset made the raven restless. Brendolowyn watched Hrafn pace and flutter across the small space for more than an hour before the bird finally gave up and went to roost in the upper corner of the mage’s tent. Such long journeys gave Hrafn a sense of freedom some part of him still longed for, the part his connection to Bren made impossible to quell.
The bird was old, had been old as long as Brendolowyn could remember, but the connection between him and his spirit animal lent an ageless quality to him that wasn’t so easily explained. By all rights, Hrafn should have died while his mage was in captivity, and for a long time Brendolowyn believed he was dead, but when the Light of Madra laid him to rest on the cold shores of Rimian, Hr
afn was there.
He would always be there, until the day his mage was taken from the world and set upon the path that awaited him in the afterlife. Archmage Auden said Hrafn would find him even there, that the two of them shared many lifetimes together and would continue to travel well beyond the veil between life and death when all was said and done.
Glancing up at his familiar, Hrafn tucked into himself, wings folded and head buried comfortably, but his hard stare never wavered from the goings on below. He was particularly perturbed by the U’lfer, and though Bren himself felt equally annoyed by Finn’s presence, he wondered if it didn’t go deeper. If it wasn’t the presence of a wolf among them that disturbed his avian friend. Would Hrafn be equally bothered by Bren himself once he’d embraced the beast beneath his skin? Or would they go on as they always had together, as though nothing whatsoever changed?
The wolf was always there. It woke and stirred inside him when he began transitioning between childhood and adulthood, and though Hrafn never seemed bothered by the wild and confused beast trapped beneath the surface, Finn’s beast was different. It appeared in every temperamental word the warrior uttered, every glance.
Was that what awaited them all? Boiling tempers? The inability to curb their own emotions?
Brendolowyn hoped not. He had no desire to wear his heart so boldly on his sleeve.
He told himself he wouldn’t get too close or interfere with the natural progression of things. He would step back and let the U’lfer have what was rightfully his, according to Yovenna, but Finn was a blighted idiot, too young and arrogant to understand the delicate nature of courting a woman. Maybe he was bored and restless after the long afternoon and evening trapped beneath their camp’s protective barrier, or maybe they were all just tired, but it seemed everything Finn said made Lorelei grit her teeth.
If he kept it up, Bren would get exactly what he wanted: the life he’d seen with her, and while the thought brought him the barest hint of satisfaction, it also made him guilty.
Huddled in his robes beside the fire, their bellies filled with a thin stew made from dried vegetables and beef, two trolls drawn in by the flickering light of their fire through the barrier paced just feet away from where they sat. Their ragged, heavy breath mingled with the fierce keen of the wind, each draw sounding like bones rattling in their heavy, wheezing lungs.
The sound was disturbing, and more than once it startled Lorelei from her weary thoughts to stare beyond the barrier with wide, frightened eyes.
The fact that a good meal was just beyond their reach seemed to enrage them, and as they stomped and bellowed, Finn took it upon himself to taunt them like a fool. He stood at the edge of the barrier, watching them, occasionally snorting amusement and asking what would happen if they started to hammer their great, hairy fists against the magical shield protecting them.
“They can’t get close enough to touch the barrier,” Brendolowyn explained, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. “It won’t stop them from trying, and they will likely spend all night attempting to do just that and failing miserably.”
“You mean they will really linger out there all night?” Lorelei balked in dismay. “Stop it, Finn!”
Barely glancing back over his shoulder at her, the sound of his tongue clicking the roof of his mouth was followed with an annoyed sigh.
“They will tire themselves out just before dawn and skulk off back to their caves, but it is better not to rile them.”
Trolls were relatively witless oafs that thought only of filling of their stomachs. They really would hover there all night searching for a way to get to what they wanted, and though the barrier was strong enough to keep them out, they would stomp and rage and roar through the long night, making it difficult for any of them to sleep. It was a good thing they were all so exhausted, though exhaustion was rarely reason enough for Bren’s body to give in to peaceable sleep. Lorelei would probably toss and turn for a bit before the merciful tug of slumber drew her into its arms.
To him, her peace was all that mattered.
It was impossible to hold reasonable conversation, and he toyed with the idea of working a muffling spell to soundproof their camp against outside noises, but in the end he was too tired to summon the magic required to do it. So the companions suffered through it, trying their best to ignore the huffing, grinding, roaring sound of angry trolls longing to crush them and eat them.
Darkness barely began to set in when Lorelei announced she could no longer sit up straight. After washing out her bowl in the snow, she retired to her tent, rustled around for only a few minutes inside and then settled. The U’lfer didn’t follow, but sat with his knees drawn, arms wrapped around them as he stared into the fire. Only for a moment did he turn over his shoulder and look at the tent, as if debating whether or not he should follow or wait until he knew she was asleep to creep inside and make himself comfortable.
Why they shared a tent was beyond Bren. Logren confirmed they weren’t mated, not yet, and Lorelei didn’t seem to know if they ever would be. Despite that, regardless of the constant bickering between them, she did sort of cling to the warrior, and though she hadn’t said as much, Brendolowyn got the impression she felt safer with Finn than anyone else. She trusted him. He’d gotten her out of the Edgelands, or at least as far as Great Sontok before Logren intervened, and who was to say Finn wouldn’t have seen her to the other side of the mountain without her brother’s intervention?
Despite his evident recklessness and lack of self-control, Finn clearly possessed some skill, and his ability to embrace his inner beast saved Brendolowyn, loathe as he was to admit it.
Still, he didn’t have to like the wolf, and he had a feeling there was little Finn could say or do to nudge him in an amicable direction. He was arrogant, brash, mouthy and immature, and he had a lot to learn about life before Bren would think him even the slightest bit worthy of saving.
It is not your place to judge his worth.
Yovenna’s voice was like a constant curse inside his mind every time he thought ill of the U’lfer sitting across from him. A curse that couldn’t be ignored no matter how hard he tried to block it out, he lowered his head and let the fabric of his hood shadow in around his face.
It was the first time the two of them had ever really been alone, though he wasn’t sure it could actually be considered alone. Lorelei was just a stone’s throw away from where they sat. It didn’t seem a good time to make conversation, but he learned soon enough Finn couldn’t be quiet even at the best of times.
“Is it true, what you said earlier?” he asked. “You were in the arenas at Bok’naal?”
“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
“A man will say anything to impress a woman,” he muttered.
“I need not say things to impress anyone.”
“I guess you wouldn’t have to, with your fancy magic, worldly rapport and Alvarii grace.” Finn made little effort to hide the distaste in his voice, but Bren didn’t allow it to bother him. “So, what was that like?”
He didn’t have to look up to see there was a curious gleam in the U’lfer’s eye, the kind of youthful curiosity that came tempered with inexperience and insensitivity. The boy may have seen a lot, may have even proved himself a warrior among his own kind, but the U’lfer weren’t exactly a fighting breed anymore, and Finn clearly had no real concept of what it meant to live one’s moments as if they might very well be his last.
“I’d say it was riveting, but that would be a lie.” Still not lifting his stare from the fire, he felt a subtle shift in the mood of his companion, a defensiveness rising to the surface. “I fought for my life every single day and barely made it out alive, but it was a learning experience I’ll surely never forget.”
“How did you? Escape, I mean?”
Provoked by his nerve, Brendolowyn finally drew his gaze upward and narrowed disbelieving lavender eyes across the fire at Finn.
“I mean, I don’t know a lot about it…”
�
��You wouldn’t, would you? Know anything about it at all.”
“Only what I’ve been told,” he shrugged as if the bite of Brendolowyn’s tone barely nibbled at the surface of his consciousness. Was he really daft, or just so arrogantly immune to others’ emotions he could easily ignore it? “And most of it is pretty outdated. We don’t exactly leave the Edgelands or have much contact with people from the outside world. Well, we didn’t. I’m a man of the world now, I suppose.”
“That would explain a great deal about your lack of tact and social grace.”
“So,” Finn prompted, still oblivious to the cold tone in Bren’s voice, “how did you get out alive?”
“Very carefully.”
For a long time the U’lfer was actually quiet. Not angered by the harshness in Bren’s tone, but contemplative, as if he were trying to imagine it. At last, he shrugged and said, “I just wondered. I think it’s important to know what you can expect from the people who are supposed to watch your back, that’s all. If you managed to get out of something like that…” He let his mind wander, the barest modicum of respect lingering in those words he never finished.
“And what about you? What can I expect from you as you watch my back, Wolf?”
The fact that he’d spoken the word wolf like an insult did get under Finn’s skin. The sudden shift in his mood and demeanor was enough to confirm it, and though he knew it was petty, Brendolowyn felt a certain amount of satisfaction at having riled his companion.
Petty, potentially dangerous…
They were supposed to change the cycle of time, Brendolowyn was supposed to ensure Finn didn’t die in the same manner he’d done time and time and time again, but what was to stop the U’lfer from shattering time by refusing to extend a hand if Bren himself was in need?
“I’ll watch your back,” Finn said as casually as if he might have said he’d watch fish rise to the surface of a lake to catch gadflies in their mouths, and then he added, “so long as your back doesn’t get in the way of my keeping her safe.”
Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) Page 10