“What was he like?”
The corner of Logren’s mouth twitched beneath his mustache, both eyebrows lifting thoughtfully as he confessed, “Wild, like some untamed beast nothing in the world could ever tie down. And he was always laughing, as if everything was some great joke and only he knew the punch line.”
Lorelei tried to imagine a father that knew how to laugh. Aelfric never laughed, never expressed any kind of joy in front of his children unless they’d done something to make him proud, and even that hadn’t happened very often. It was such a rare sight that try as she might to remember the man’s smile when she closed her eyes, she saw nothing but the rigid line of his stern mouth.
“As I said, Rognar wasn’t around very much.” There was pain in his voice, which he quickly disguised by clearing his throat. “Even before he lost interest in my mother and moved on, he and his men were always so far away from home doing what it was they did. I barely ever saw him, but when he did come around he was always happy to see me. He’d bring me little trinkets from the places he’d been, tell me stories on those rare occasions he was around long enough to tuck me into bed. I remember he would walk through the doors and scoop me into his arms and lift me to the ceiling before holding me so close to him it felt like all my bones would break.”
“Those sound like good memories.”
Aelfric had never embraced her or her sister, always holding them at arm’s length as if he were afraid to let himself show weakness through affection. All her life she’d craved that affection from him, longed for some kind of sign that she was more to him than a pawn to be played in hopes of gaining some political advantage. The only time he’d ever taken her in his arms had been on the day he’d sent her out into the world to secure his alliance in Hofft.
“He would have adored you, no doubt,” Logren said. That statement saddened her. Chewing nervously at the corner of her mouth, she glanced sidelong at her brother and tried to imagine the father they shared in common, a father who loved his children for more than the gain they might bring him. “My mother says he loved children, though I’ve heard tell he liked the act of making children far more than actually sticking around to take care of the children he brought into the world. To hear it told, we probably have a dozen siblings scattered to the four corners of Vennakrand, but you’re the only one I’ve ever known about for sure.”
“I never knew about any of this.”
“And therein lays the greatest adversity you feel right now, no doubt. Only being able to stand by and watch as your entire life, everything you ever thought you knew is destroyed before your very eyes.” The lament in his voice touched her, and for a moment she felt close to him, even though she knew nothing about him at all. That was exactly what she felt like, and to hear someone else put it into words brought strange, fleeting relief. “I truly wish it wasn’t so, little sister, but one cannot dwell on the past no matter how fresh the scabs, or how near the pain still feels to us. We must always move forward.”
“Like soldiers,” Bren added, turning into their conversation. “We are the sons and daughters of some of the greatest conquerors this world has ever known. I’ve never been able to help wondering if it was not Llorveth’s plan for the U’lfer to be as we are. That, perhaps, was why he sent our fathers marching so far and wide across the lands, to fill the world with half-bred bastards like us.”
“Ah Bren, Llorveth’s plan will be revealed in time,” Logren assured his friend. “Now that we have found my sister, the wait is nearly over.”
She didn’t like being at the center of something she knew nothing about, and worse was that everyone else seemed to have all the answers, but refused to explain any of it to her.
“Why do I get the feeling this is only just beginning for me?” she muttered.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, my lady, but your adventure, your destiny… it is the beginning of something so great there isn’t one among us who can even begin to comprehend it.” When she turned to look at Bren, there was an intense glimmer of excitement and wonder in his eyes. “It is in our nature as mortals to shy away from our own greatness, but embracing it is the only way to overcome those fears.”
“It’d be a lot easier to embrace my greatness if I had even half a clue what I was supposed to be so great at.”
“All in…”
“In good time, yes, you’ve said that already,” she cut her brother off.
Logren chuckled, and draw her near him again. The closeness she’d felt to him before was still there, and even though Vilnjar’s warning was still nestled in the back of her mind, she let her brother hug her and relished in the warmth of his embrace.
“I realize that is difficult for you to hear, but I promise the answers you seek are within your reach.”
She spent the rest of the journey between the two of them, listening to them talk of Dunvarak and the people there. She learned quickly it was no mere village, but a city with hundreds of people who had been hidden in the tundra for decades, hidden and sustained by powerful magic of the likes she’d never seen. She might have found that strange if the last few days of her life hadn’t all but disproved nearly everything Master Davan ever taught her. All her life she’d heard the tundra was an impossible, frozen wasteland populated by little more than trolls, goblins and giants. Bren assured her there were plenty of all three, but they’d trekked for miles without confrontation.
It gave them plenty of time to tell her stories, but even as she started to feel like she was getting to know her brother, she found herself missing Finn’s company.
Even if he was a bigot and a jerk who’d probably never accept her for who she was, he’d been a friend to her when she had no other, saved her life when she thought for sure it was over. The nervous part of her that had sworn off all romantic relations forever actually led her to believe he liked her, and despite her own stubbornness, she was starting to like him too.
When their party stopped to set up camp just before the sun went down in a vast clearing, she avoided him at first, checking in with Viln after their shackles were removed to make sure he was all right. She sauntered away uncomfortably when she saw Finn walking toward them, refusing to look back over her shoulder at him because she knew if she did she would forget how hurt she was by the things he’d said. The worst part was she didn’t even understand why she wanted to forgive him. The only thing she did know for certain was that rift his cruel words created between them cut more deeply into her than she ever expected.
Logren sent scouts into the distant, snow-covered hills to hunt for food, while the soldiers set up sturdy hide tents and built a roaring fire in the open center of their camp. Lorelei knelt huddled in the cloak Bren gave her by the fire, watching the flames melt a perimeter into the snow, and that was where she was when Finn found her. He stood over her shoulder for a moment, as if waiting for her to acknowledge him there, and when she didn’t, he finally crouched down beside her and folded his hands between his legs.
She tried not to look at him, but from the corner of her gaze she could see his profile, half his face hidden by a strip of black hair fluttering against the length of his nose and settling briefly over his jaw. She glanced lower, studying the irritated skin of his wrists. Swollen, irritated pink welts edged in weeping yellow blisters circled the skin like a bracelet of pain. She winced just looking at them and wanted to reach out and make them better.
“Look, Princess, I guess I was kind of a jerk earlier, and I wanted to apologize.”
“You guess?” she muttered, turning her head toward the fire so he was no longer in her view. He thought he was so much better than everyone else, even her. The way he was always calling her princess confirmed that.
“All right, I was a jerk, okay? I said it. There is no guessing about it, but you have to understand where I’m coming from.”
“If everyone where you come from thinks the way you do, and judging from recent circumstances I’d say they do, then I would rather not try and u
nderstand.”
“That isn’t what I… Lorelei, I don’t really think like that.” He shifted uncomfortably where he’d crouched, an absent hand rubbing across his wrist, the muscles in his squared jaw tensing. “I mean, I do… or well, I did… but that was just how I was raised and I don’t think that way about you. I never have, not even when I realized what you were. It just was, and I never thought about it again.”
“The way you were raised? Really, Finn? I don’t know him all that well, but Vilnjar doesn’t really seem like a narrow-minded purist.”
“He’s not,” he said quickly. “And neither am I, really, it’s just…”
“It’s just that you saw an opportunity to put these people down and you didn’t hesitate to do it,” she finished for him. “Even though they probably saved our skins on the other side of that mountain. They took us in and fed us, and now they are leading us someplace safe.”
“How sure are you that where they are taking us is a safe place?”
That was a good enough question, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that. She’d spent the entire afternoon talking to her brother, getting to know the man and growing fonder of him with every moment they spent together. She didn’t want to believe he was going to hurt her, but even he’d told her to trust no one, not even him.
“I’m not sure, but at least I know what they think of me.”
“I could tell you what I really think of you, but you probably wouldn’t believe me anyway,” he mumbled.
“Why don’t you try me?” she challenged.
Finally lifting her head to look at him, he stubbornly refused to make eye contact with her and she started to scowl, but then she noticed he was trembling. He was nervous and ashamed, his lower lip quivering so softly he probably didn’t even realize he was shaking. He drew that lip between his teeth and held it there a moment, and then he finally looked up at her. He was just about to speak when the rune-embroidered hem of Bren’s black cloak appeared in the snow on her right. She looked up and found him holding out a steaming bowl of broth. She could smell the fragrant spices almost instantly as they cleared her stuffed nasal passages, her mouth immediately starting to water.
“I know it isn’t much, but I thought this would keep you warm and tide you over until the scouts return with food.” He held the bowl out to her, his warm lavender eyes smiling when she met with them.
“Thank you, Bren. That was very thoughtful.”
Finn muttered something under his breath and pushed up from where he’d knelt. “I’ll talk to you later, Princess.”
Turning an obvious glare on Bren before stalking away from her to sit alone on the other side of the fire, Lorelei stared after him for a few seconds, trying to understand why it bothered her so much that he’d left. He hadn’t even really apologized, and his explanation for why he was so prejudice against the people who’d stuck their neck out for them wasn’t any kind of explanation at all. Yet she still hadn’t wanted him to go.
Bren lowered himself into a comfortable squat in front of her, his thick black robes pooling around him in the snow. He watched Finn leave, the sharp features of his face softening with curiosity before he confessed, “I get the feeling your friend Finn doesn’t much care for me. Was it something I said?”
“More like something he said,” she huffed and shook her head, not wanting to talk about Finn. He was one of the most infuriating people she’d ever met, and it didn’t help matters much that despite the way he was acting she still wanted to be near him, to see the corner of his mouth rise towards a smile the way it always did before he called her Princess. “It doesn’t matter. Would you like to sit down?”
“There is nothing in the world I would love more than to sit and talk with you. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity I’ve had this day to get to know you, but there is a lot of work to be done around the camp before we can actually relax in it for the night. Soon, I’ll be raising the barrier to keep us safe.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You are our guest. Just sit back and keep yourself warm.”
“I’m starting to think it’s not possible to keep oneself warm out here.” She shivered inside her double layer of cloak. The only part of her body that felt warm were the gloved hands wrapped around the steaming bowl he’d given her. But even that was quickly cooling, and by the time she tipped it to her lips, she had a feeling she’d be sipping iced broth. “And with you wearing those robes, I can’t even imagine how you manage not to freeze.”
“You get used to it after a while,” he assured her with a wave of his hand. “Believe me, I didn’t think I would ever say that. The land I came from was nothing short of tropical. Long, sandy beaches and miles of warm ocean to swim in. Heidr never seemed to close his eye on Til Harethi. When I was first brought to this place, I thought for sure I would die here, but in time my body adjusted. Yours will too.”
She didn’t believe that for a minute. “I had an Alvarii nursemaid when I was a girl. Every story she told, every song she ever sung carried the beauty and peace of Til Harethi, and they always felt so warm.”
“Hmm,” he nodded and smiled. “Perhaps later you and I can share a few songs from my homeland if you still remember them, bring a little of that warmth to the entire camp.”
She was so homesick for Pahjah and her sister that the mere thought of Alvarii songs made her gut clench. She’d never been so far away from home, so alone in all her life. And just when she’d started to think she had a friend in the great, lonely world he’d turned his back on her too. Looking over at Finn, she felt a strange, heavy thump in her chest.
“Maybe.”
“Bren, that barrier isn’t going to raise itself,” Logren called from across the camp.
“And that’s my cue,” he sighed and pushed up from where he’d crouched. “The moons will be up long before I finish my task, but I hope you’ll save a seat beside you so I might rejoin you later. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to share my culture and heritage with someone who so obviously appreciates it.”
As homesick as she was, hearing him say that made her feel very sad for him. Maybe sharing a few songs and stories would help fill the emptiness inside her for a little while. “I’d like that,” she admitted.
“Me too.” When Bren smiled at her, she actually felt warm for the first time since Finn had been so cold to her.
She watched after Bren as he walked away, rejoining with Logren before departing to begin his task of raising a barrier around the camp. She caught Finn’s eye as she was returning her attention to the chilled bowl of broth in her hands, and for a moment they just stared at each other across the fire. It was impossible to guess, but he looked hurt and her first instinct was to revel in his misery. It was what he deserved after the things he’d said, but her revelry was soon replaced by a deep sadness.
Something inside of her wanted to go to him and try to make right whatever it was that went wrong between them, but every time she was almost convinced to swallow her pride and just forgive him, she remembered what he said.
There is nothing good about being half an U’lfer.
Llorveth didn’t seem to agree, if his presence in her life was any indication of where the U’lfer god stood on the matter. Still, it didn’t make the fact that some part of Finn believed the words he’d said hurt any less.
A week ago, it would have meant nothing to her to hear such a thing spoken, but now, in light of everything that happened, they felt like the most insulting words she’d ever heard. The fact that they had come from him only seemed to make them sting more.
Lowering the cold bowl of broth to the ground beside her, she watched the last rays of the sun blend with the rich purple sky beyond the endless white world stretched out before them and drew her cloak closer to her body. She tried not to think about the warmth of Finn’s body when she slept next to him the night before, the safety she felt while curled up beside him, and for a time it was easy to for
get whenever she remembered his cruel words, but somewhere under the surface she just wanted to forget he’d ever said them and go back to the way they were before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Vilnjar had not spent so much time exposed to silver in his life. The metal’s effects irritated more than just his skin; the silver drained his spirit and depressed the beast beneath his skin until he literally felt as if a part of him slouched down into the furthest corner of his body to cower in defeat. He couldn’t imagine how it was affecting his brother, whose foul mood only worsened as the day wore on. He looked more brooding beast than man, sitting cross-legged by the fire rubbing at his raw wrists when the sun began its final descent into the distant horizon.
By the time Logren announced they were setting up camp, Viln was so exhausted he thought his body would drop right where he stood and succumb to a restful, coma-like state to recuperate from the drain of both endless days of travel and the silver of his cuffs. Instead he found himself standing in the center of the action as Logren’s unit sprang into action, getting fires started and hammering tent stakes into the cold, hard ground.
Logren was a smart commander, but his choice of such an open location to make camp for the night baffled Vilnjar. The nearest copse of trees was barely visible beneath the fading tendrils of sunlight in the distance. After his bonds were removed, he made his way toward Logren to ask why they hadn’t trekked the extra mile for cover from the bitter wind.
The man looked over his shoulder at him as if Viln sprouted an extra head from his shoulder, the skin beside his wide, amber eyes crinkling. “Cover from the wind while we set up camp would be welcomed by everyone, I assure you, but there is no safety in cover out here in the tundra, my old friend. Those woods and hills are crawling with goblins and trolls who would like nothing more than to paint the snow with our blood.”
Scanning the wide open terrain, Vilnjar squinted against the wind, watching distant squalls of snow spiral and swirl like mist. “And sitting in the open… isn’t that like sending them a written invitation?”
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 32