There were a dozen more men camped in the mountain pass, a blazing fire warming the walls of frozen stone around them and making the place feel almost cozy. The mere thought of sitting down beside that fire, warming the cold from his bones and resting his feet made him realize for the first time just how exhausted he actually was. Surveying the encampment, he watched as the four wolves were led toward the distant wall, where they were chained together, both arms and feet, and forced to sit. Guards moved in around them, forming a stiff, well-seasoned line of defense between the camp and their stifled enemy.
“We will camp here until sunup,” Logren announced. “It is safe here in the pass. There is stew in the pot and the fire is warm. Take some rest, sister. You will need it to make the long journey that lies before us.”
“What about my friends? They’ve walked for hours in those chains. I think they’ve proved themselves.”
“I’m sorry, Lorelei, but until we reach Dunvarak, they are prisoners just like the others. They are free to warm themselves by the fire, and I will see them fed, but I will not see their chains removed until I know they can be trusted.”
Vilnjar scanned the bodies milling about the fire; five more half-bloods that rose to greet the scouts before stepping up to inspect their find.
“Well then you may as well chain me too,” she announced, stubbornly crossing her arms. “If we’re nothing more than prisoners you’re dragging back to whatever master you serve, I see no reason I should be free to roam while my friends sit in chains. How do you know you can trust me? That I’m not plotting some big escape during which I slit the throats of all your men?”
Had that been what the two of them were muttering about on the long walk, Vilnjar wondered, leveling a long, hard look at his brother, who skillfully ignored him as usual.
Logren laughed, as if he’d tried to imagine little Lorelei attempting to slit anyone’s throat, but in the few short days he’d known her, Vilnjar himself realized she was capable of far more than he would have given her credit for upon first glance.
“I understand your reservations, Lorelei, believe me. Were I you, I’d be frothing with rage to see my friends in chains too, but trust me when I tell you I have only your best interest in mind.”
“Trust you?” she laughed. “Was it not you who told me I should trust no one? Not even you? You could be leading me to my death, remember? And yet I came with you. And they’ve come this far without a fight. They did what you asked. I don’t think I’m asking too much of you to allow them a little comfort, brother.” She said that last word almost bitterly, and Viln swore Logren shied back a little as if she’d lashed out to slap him with her hand.
“Spoken like a true diplomat.” He regarded her with amusement, and then his gaze lingered over the chains on Finn’s wrists. “Do I have your word, Finn of Drekne, that I won’t regret removing your chains as long as we are in this encampment?”
Finn chewed idly at the dry skin on his lower lip while he played over that question, and before he looked to Logren to answer, he made eye contact with Lorelei who seemed to plead with him in silent earnest. Giving in with a nod, Finn said, “You have my word.”
“And what of the Council of the Nine? Do I have their word?” He turned to meet Vilnjar’s stare, cold eyes narrowing with distaste.
“I do not speak for the Council of the Nine,” Vilnjar sneered. “I gave up that privilege when I refused to stand idly by and watch them exile my brother and your sister.”
“That alone speaks volumes of your character. All right,” Logren agreed. “These two are free to move about the camp, but only on the condition that they agree to return to chains when we travel until I’ve had enough time to assess their character and their motives. Do we have a deal?”
“Not a very good deal,” Lorelei sighed.
“I’m sorry, but that is all I can offer right now. Take it, or leave it.”
She looked to Finn again, as if seeking approval and then gave in with a quick sigh. “Fine.”
It was not fine with Vilnjar, but he said nothing.
While Logren nodded for the chains to be removed from their wrists, a hooded man who’d been crouching near the fire approached, a mage judging from the embroidered runes that shimmered along the hemline and sleeves of his robe. He lowered his hood, revealing a tangle of braids, which were thickly tied back at the nape of his neck. A glimpse of black ink decorated the skin just beneath the collar of his robes. At his full height he stood almost two inches taller than Finn, an instant threat that forced his brother to straighten his spine and throw back his shoulders in unspoken challenge as he watched the man reach for Lorelei’s hand and lower his head in reverence.
“Light of Madra,” he said softly, lowering himself onto his knees before her while still holding her hand.
Logren laughed, reaching down to clap and squeeze the other man’s shoulder before slipping his other arm behind Lorelei’s back to draw her into view. She went tentatively, glancing up at Finn as if once more asking for his permission. His brother didn’t even look at her, but narrowed a jealous, bitter gaze at the hooded man on the ground in front of her. Finn actually started to move toward the mage, fist clenched and ready to cock, but Vilnjar grabbed his arm and jerked him back before anyone could notice.
“She shines brighter than the light of all three moons on a clear night, does she not?”
“That she does.” When he lowered his head submissively, the tangled mane of braids he wore fell from in to hide his face, which had very distinct Alvarii features, but none more obvious than the long, pointed ears slipping through those tangled braids. He was still holding her hand, slowly drawing it up to lay a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “We have waited years for you to come again,” he confessed, “some of us all our lives. Your light has touched our lives and our dreams from afar, giving us hope when all hope was lost.”
Glancing up, Vilnjar watched the white of her freckled cheeks flush red with humble embarrassment before she withdrew her hand as if the mage bit her, rather than kissed her. “I… I don’t even know what that means,” she confessed.
“You will understand everything in time,” Logren assured her. “Up, Bren, you’re embarrassing her.”
“I look forward to getting to know you, my lady.” The mage rose gracefully to his feet, the bunched fabric of his long robes straightening as it dropped. He turned to leave them, eliciting another glare from Finn that no one but Vilnjar seemed to notice.
Logren cleared his throat and returned his attention to them. He was working a slim key into the lock of Finn’s silver shackles as he spoke. “As I said, on the good faith of my sister you are free to roam the camp while we are here, enjoy what food we have to offer, sit by our fire and take some rest, for we return to the road when the sun touches the horizon and it is a long journey through the cold to Dunvarak.”
After he was freed, Vilnjar stayed close to his brother and Lorelei, suspiciously surveying the men and women of Logren’s camp. Their numbers relaxed them, and judging from how quickly their appearance halted the skirmish at the base of the mountain, he guessed their calm nature coupled with the magic they wielded disturbed the bound wolves huddled together for warmth near the rigid wall of the mountain. The chains weakened them, prohibiting them from raging, but the lust for blood and vengeance still lingered in their eyes.
It saddened him deeply that he knew those wolves, just as intimately as he had known the guards who led them to their death under pretense of exile. He had known them all his life. The silver-furred hunter who nearly killed Lorelei, Bonden, had even tried to woo his sister not so long ago. He thought of Ruwena then, a guilty surge tightening the muscles of his chest as he tried to imagine what horrors she faced in Drekne now that he was no longer there to protect her. Much like Finn, she could take care of herself, but he shouldn’t have made her stay behind.
He had failed on so many levels. And for what? The words of a now-dead seer who’d led their entire village to believe
she was deaf, blind and mute for more than a decade. A prophecy he knew nothing about. A girl who single-handedly took everything his entire race stood for and crumpled it in the palm of her hand faster than he could say don’t.
Lowering his head, the long strips of his dark brown hair fell in to hide his face and he closed his eyes. For a time he just sat that way, silently seething over the mess his life had become and the fact that it was completely beyond his reach to fix it.
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t heard the metal thunk of footsteps approach until armor clattered in answer to the body inside it sitting down.
“You can’t even begin to imagine how many times I thought about this day over the last twenty years, and yet it’s turned out almost nothing like I expected at all,” Logren mused. He stretched his armor-clad legs forward with a rattling creek of hinges and leaned his back against the wall of stone behind them. “All the things you and I would say to each other when at last we came face to face again. I always imagined there would be a brother’s embrace and a river of tears.”
“It’s harder than you might imagine to embrace a ghost.” Holding up his hands to show the fading blisters the silver chains had left on his skin, he added, “Especially when your hands have been bound.”
“A precaution you can’t begrudge me under the circumstances, old friend. The things I’ve heard about you over the years have been vile enough to make the hairs of a man’s beard curl. Even as I sit beside you, I struggle between longing to embrace you and pushing you over the ledge to spare myself a betrayal that is sure to come if I allow you to remain among my men.”
“It is a strange thing, but I had nearly forgotten how readily our fathers scorned diplomacy and reason in favor of killing first in order to spare themselves having to ask questions later. Thank you for reminding me.”
“And I had nearly forgotten how much you always liked to brood, Viln. Even as a boy you were like an old man in a young man’s body.” Logren said. “I would have thought you’d have long ago outgrown your sullen tendency to work through every detail until you could barely stand to be inside your own skin with yourself anymore.”
“I don’t brood,” he muttered, a smile’s hint touching the edge of his mouth. “I simply think. Sometimes far too much for my own good, it would seem.”
“My mother always called that brooding,” he laughed. “She said a man who thinks too much leaves no room in his life for action, and in order to live a righteous life a man must learn to balance his thoughts and his actions.”
“That sounds more like something your father would have said.”
“My mother may have been human, but Rognar always said it was her greatest quality. She could see things the U’lfer could not because her mind was not clouded by the constant call to war. Why else would she have garnered my father’s interest, even if it was as swift as his boots upon the road to his true mistress?”
“Your mother was always a wise woman,” he concluded, trying to steer the subject as gently as he could toward the truth. “Whatever became of her?”
He watched the grin Logren wore disappear, his lips tightening almost bitterly as he drew in a nostril-flaring breath. “She never made it out of Vrinkarn.”
“But you did.” He realized as soon as he said those words he should have apologized for the loss of his mother, rather than pointing out the obvious. Galisa had been a woman he himself felt close as kin to when he was a boy, a woman his mother mourned with the same keening ferocity she would later mourn her own mate. But apologies were useless in bringing back the dead, and though sorry as he was about that, saying the words felt like a foolish afterthought. “How is that even possible?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he lowered his head, the tangled auburn braids falling into his face like a curtain. “Not tonight, perhaps not any night. All that matters now is her.” Shifting his gaze upward again, Vilnjar followed the line of Logren’s stare toward Lorelei.
“What is so special about her?”
“Everything.”
“Forgive me if I don’t share in your vision. I’ve known her little more than a week and she’s single-handedly brought mine and my brother’s worlds crashing down around our heads.”
“Change has a way of doing that, Viln, though your brother doesn’t seem to be struggling with her,” he gestured toward where they sat together.
Curled up in a fur blanket, Lorelei had fallen asleep with her head rested against Finn’s shoulder. Finn’s temple lay atop her head, eyes closed but every muscle in his body tensed as if ready to charge into battle if anyone so much as even made a step toward his mate. It was almost funny how quickly her distrust for his brother dissolved in the face of unknown enemies, even if that enemy had called himself her brother. She hadn’t left Finn’s side since they’d begun the journey into the mountain, and despite the severity of the situation they were in, that dopey grin hadn’t left his brother’s face, even in that state of tense, uneasy sleep.
“She embodies the very essence of change, but that is none of your concern now. She is with her people now, her own kind, though I do suppose in some small way we have you to thank for bringing her this far. You and your brother. Hodon will welcome you both in Dunvarak, provided you don’t cause trouble between here and there.”
“Dunvarak. I have not heard of this settlement.”
“There are few who have, and we’ve worked very hard for the last twenty years to keep it so.”
“And that is where you’ve been for all these years? Hidden away in the tundra?”
“Doing whatever it took to survive.”
“And the girl?” Vilnjar withdrew his gaze from them and turned to look at Logren again, studying his face for insight into his thoughts, but his features were a blank slate. “Why are you so interested in her? It can’t simply be for the sake of change.”
“She is my sister,” he said softly. “She is under my protection now. Nothing will stand in the way of our bringing her home where she belongs.”
“And what if she doesn’t wish to come with you? I’ve only known her a short time, and I can tell you with confidence Lorelei of Leithe does nothing unless she wants to.”
“She will come,” he said confidently. “For years our seer has witnessed this and so much more. It has already been written and nothing you or your council have planned can interfere with her destiny.”
“I have no wish to interfere with her or her destiny.” Like an echo in his mind he could almost hear Rhiorna’s words again, that he would follow her. He debated telling Logren the things his aunt said, but only for a moment. Then he cleared the phlegm from his throat and said, “I came only to look after my brother.”
“He looks a grown man.”
“He may look grown, but appearances can be deceiving. And to make matters even more unfortunate, it would seem his position in her future will not be so easily dissuaded.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are mated, or so Rhiorna said. And he believed her. Needless to say, when my brother believes in something, he believes in it with every fiber of his being.”
“Ah, but she is half-human, and not bound to the same conventional, barbaric mating rituals of the U’lfer. He may be mated to her wolf, but in time she will be free to choose her own mate, be he wolf or not, just like the rest of us half-breeds.” Logren said that last word with such bitterness and scorn it sent chills so fierce through Vilnjar he clenched his teeth.
“If your intent is to harm her in any way you will have him to deal with, and though he may only be one man I can personally attest to the fact that he is an army unto himself, especially when it comes to that girl.”
“Then for her sake, let us hope he is true. My sister will have need of an army to protect her when word spreads of the things she is meant to do in this world.” Logren drew his knees up and pushed onto his feet, his armor groaning and clanking with every movement. “You should take some rest now,” he said. “We se
t out in a few hours and everyone here will need their strength to make the long journey.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Finn had never been beyond the Edgelands, though he’d daydreamed about it for as long as he could remember. A world without limitations and restrictions—well except for the silver shackles that bound his wrists. He didn’t know how long he’d have to wear them, and more than the mere discomfort of them made him feel edgy. If something happened to Lorelei, he wouldn’t be able to protect her, not bound in silver, and right then protecting her was his only job.
There wasn’t much in the world that scared him, but since he’d met her his life had become filled with tiny little terrors he had to overcome like obstacles. First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of worry that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and keep her safe—again, not so easy to manage while chained in silver.
She slept curled up beside him until the sun rose, and as she started awake the absence of her fears returned as she surveyed their camp. She didn’t have to voice her apprehension, he could feel it in the tremble of both her heart and her body. When they were making their ascent into the mountains she walked so close to him, nudging into him several times and nearly knocking him over thanks to the shackles interfering with his balance and concentration.
At her behest, he held his hands out again come morning, let them bind him once more, and insisted she walk in front of him on the way down the other side of the mountain. She walked slow, making sure to keep close enough that they could talk quietly amongst themselves whenever some unanswered question bothered in her mind.
“I still don’t understand why Rhiorna wouldn’t tell me about that,” she whispered, gesturing with her head toward the man leading their party down the treacherous mountainside. “Isn’t having a brother out here waiting for me something I should have known about?”
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