“Please,” she shook her head. “Please don’t do that. I am honored, but I don’t understand why I am so revered among your people.”
“Of course,” the man nodded. “I’m sure you have many questions, and they will all be answered in due time. For now, I am Hodon, and you are most welcome here.”
“And my friends, Finn and Vilnjar?” She found her voice, the tone cracking under the strain of her nerves. “Will they be welcomed too?”
“Any friends of yours are friends of ours,” Hodon said, eying the man at her back with a broad grin. “I would like to speak with them while they are here. It is my hope they bring valuable information with them about our brethren in the north, information that may assist us in the coming days, but let us not worry about such things tonight. We have prepared a great feast in honor of your coming.”
“Do I have your word that my friends will not be harmed?” It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, wielding confidence like a weapon in front of so many people she knew nothing about.
Hodon bowed his head to her, his eyes lowering with the gesture. “You have my word, my lady. No harm will come to your friends. In fact, I place them both under my protection, and in the event that such protection is required, any who harm them will have to answer to me and my men. Anything you ask of us, we will do.”
The severity of that admission terrified her, and she almost jumped when the crisp crack of fabric on the wind drew her attention to the banners they hoisted. A red wolf bayed before a silver moon, disappearing and reappearing with every frigid gust that blew through them.
It was a strange thing, the coldness of that wind, unnatural in that she could feel the heat of the city, the warmth of the fires and all those bodies mingling so close together, but the wind still nipped at her skin like frozen teeth. It nibbled away at any chance at comfort she might have thought such a city would bring to her.
Pahjah would say such a thing was a bad omen, and she should trust her instincts—turn and run away from whatever awaited her beyond those gates, but she had a feeling the host of soldiers at her back would never let her go. That made her feel trapped, almost as trapped as when she’d been pinned to the ground beneath her shield while the U’lfer hunter battered away at her defenses.
“Do not be afraid, young one.” A frail, old woman pushed her way through the crowd, shoving the blond man who seemed to know her before she was even born out of the way to approach. She had a thick, rasping voice, but despite the way it grated on the senses it made Lorelei feel almost as safe as the touch of Finn’s hand on her hip. “Your people have waited so long for you to come, and though it may not seem so now, they are more overwhelmed by the fact that you have finally come than you are at being here.”
She had kindly eyes, so pale blue they seemed almost as white as the snow that stretched for endless miles beyond the gates.
“You are the seer Logren told me about,” she finally managed to say, her mouth so dry the words barely even croaked from her throat when she spoke.
“I am Yovenna, the Voice,” she nodded slowly, “and I have seen.”
Holding out her hands, Lorelei felt compelled to reach for them, the old woman’s warm, gnarled fingers wrapping around her wrists to draw her closer. The most calming energy flowed into her until she felt almost hypnotized. Tilting her head, she watched transfixed as all the color of Yovenna’s eyes paled until the pupils and irises became a void and in their reflection Lorelei saw the clatter of a hundred images pass across them.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen bathing in a river of starlight. A shadow lurking in the trees beyond and a knife plunged into that shadow so swiftly Lorelei could almost feel the cold metal twisting into her own ribs. The woman in the river screamed, the shrill sound draining the light from the world until all was dark and the clean water ran red with blood. A body dragged through the stars by a set of tangled horns, tossed at the feet of throne crafted of old, yellowed bones. A head lifted, pleading eyes searched from the depths of the strange, yet familiar face, and then a hand reached down and gripped those horns again, yanking back the head before the axe dropped to sever them from their owner’s brow.
Writhing fire swarmed across the sky. Weathered standards whipped furiously in the wind. The din of battle echoed in her ears, the battering split of a blade thunked through armor. War-cries mingled with the keen of death. Blood sprayed through the air and painted the clean white snow a dirty shade of smeared and blackened red. Bodies fell, wolves and men trampled them beneath their feet as they charged in to clash with one another again and again and again.
Frightened horses stomped through the chaos, rearing and whinnying in terror. She saw three wolves standing beneath the rising mother moon, one red, one brown and one black, and when they lifted their faces to the sky the piercing echo of their howls died on the wind.
Lorelei tugged one hand free with a hard breath of fretful astonishment, breaking the stream of visions. When she blinked, she saw the old woman’s face again, her cracked lips twitching against the slow semblance of a painful smile.
“I have seen, my child,” she whispered, patting the leathery palm of her hand across Lorelei’s knuckles before squeezing her fingers and letting go. “This and so much more.”
There was little time to dwell on the strange burst of imagery she’d just witnessed. Feeling so completely overwhelmed by what she’d seen, she actually recoiled and stumbled into Finn behind her. No one else even seemed to notice the exchange, and Logren swept in to quickly to distract her by dominating the next few moments and tugging her away from both Finn and the old woman.
He began introducing her to people as they passed through the gates, men who knew her father well and had many stories they wished to share with her in the coming days. All the men and women had hard-sounding names, but gentle, eager faces that looked upon her with a sense of hopeful desperation that only intensified the fear she felt coursing through her. Didn’t they see it? Couldn’t they tell she was just a girl, barely even a woman and she knew nothing of the world? How could she be expected to help anyone, when she couldn’t even help herself?
Logren swept her through the crowd so quickly that she lost track of Finn until Logren’s attention was drawn to the sound of a high pitched voice echoing through the streets.
“Da! Da!”
The crowd parted to make way for a small child who couldn’t have been more than four, his mother sauntering after him with her arms crossed, as if she’d given up chasing him and planned to arrive in her own time.
“Ah-ha-ha! There’s my little pup!” Logren dropped to one knee to catch the child in his arms when he charged, his face disappearing into the mop of dark-red curls atop his head when he kissed him.
Lorelei was stunned, a part of her feeling truly discouraged by just how little she actually knew about the man who called himself her brother. They’d spent three days on the road together, and he’d told her one of the most intimate details of his life, but he’d never even mentioned he had a son, that she had a nephew. Why? Why hadn’t it even occurred to him to tell her those things?
“Da, you came back.”
“Of course I came back,” Logren laughed. “I always come back to you, Roggi.”
“Did you bring her?” When the boy leaned back to look at his father Lorelei felt a hitch in her chest as she realized the child was asking after her. It was the oddest, most disconcerting feeling to be standing among an entire city of people who seemed to know everything about her and had done for years, while she’d never even known that they existed at all.
“Aye, I did.”
Turning his head over his shoulder, a pair of large, round brown eyes stared up at her in awe, the pouting buds of his small mouth stretching into a grin when he pointed toward her with a chubby finger. “Is that her?” He fell shyly against Logren’s shoulder, turning his face in but keeping one shining eye on her as he whispered.
Logren’s hand disappeared into the mop of
bronze curls atop his head, a hearty laugh following as he drew him back. “Aye. Would you like me to introduce you to her?”
“Perhaps if you do, he’ll finally relent and settle down, as I’ve been telling him to do since just after sundown.”
Viina was a tall woman, lean but solid, hard but gentle, as if she’d spent the majority of her life eking out a hard living, but still knew how to laugh despite the hardships that she’d seen. She wore her dark brown hair in a pile of braids that hung loose from the long day she’d endured waiting for her husband to return.
“For three days this one has bounced off the very walls asking when his father would come back with his aunt so he could finally meet her.”
Aunt. She was an aunt. How strange that word sounded to her. There were memories, late nights when she and Miri lay awake in their bed planning out how many children they would one day have, and how much they would spoil each other’s offspring, but she’d never expected…
Finn was behind her again, and she felt the gentle, forward nudge of his hand. Shooting a quick look over her shoulder, she found him grinning encouragement, an unspoken promise in his eyes that he would still be waiting there for her to cling to him when she needed. Her legs felt like jelly as she took the first tentative step forward, toward the boy Logren lifted into his arms and hoisted against an armored hip.
“Hello,” she swallowed hard against the ache and tickle lodged at the back of her throat. “My name is Lorelei.”
“Are you her? Are you my auntie?” He tilted his head and rested his temple against his father’s shoulder, those large, brown eyes blinking at her and practically breaking her heart into a million pieces.
“I…” she didn’t know what to say. “I suppose I am.”
Leaning up to whisper in his father’s ear, she heard him say, “She doesn’t look like a light, Papa.”
Logren laughed and shifted his body higher. “The light lives inside her, my boy.” Returning his attention to the task at hand, he said, “Come, let us make way to the hall so we can warm the chill and rest the weariness from our bones. I hear there is to be a great feast.”
“A big feast for the Light of Madra!” Roggi cheered, his excitement ringing laughter from the throng of people who’d come out to meet them at the gate.
She was grateful when Finn moved in behind her again, returning his hand to the curve of her hip and guiding her after Logren. Her legs trembled so much every step was a challenge, but she met that challenge by promising herself that soon she would be resting and that rest would give her the strength of mind to sort through the overwhelming reality of the world around her.
Hodon led the way, drawing their entire party through the gates and along the glorious main street of the city of Dunvarak. It rivaled Rivenn in size, its wide, cobbled streets decorated with swaying lampposts filled with glowing golden balls of magical energy. Those lamps cast a warm glow on the colorful homes and buildings that lined the street and led toward the grand hall at the distant end of the path.
As if the wonder of her expression demanded explanation, Hodon explained with a hint of pride in his tone, “Magic has made all this possible.” He gestured toward the tall tower, the one they’d spied from the road when they were still miles from the gates. “That is the mage’s tower, the very building block upon which this city was constructed.”
Within the walls, all traces of the cold, wintry weather disappeared, allowing for patches of blue-green grasses and rich gardens filled with colorful herbs and flowers, fruits and vegetables in front of nearly every building.
“But… how?”
She’d grown up in a glorious city, Rivenn being considered well beyond advanced when compared to the four surrounding cities Aelfric and his father had raised during their reign. Where Krepl, Hedrl, Bokolnel and Fenkolven were strong, hard military cities meant to defend Rivenn upon attack, Rivenn itself still held the delicate air of grace and beauty of the Alvarii who built it more than a millennium before while the world was still new.
Traces of that elven beauty and grace lingered in the architecture of Aelfric’s palace and the great gardens of Rivenn, but over the years the king worked diligently to wipe every last trace of Alvarii strength and magic from his city. Entire buildings had been torn down, a power play meant to remind the thousands of Alvarii slaves that had been captured when Leithe was taken that they would never rise to power again.
Only one elven building, aside from the palace, remained in Rivenn. The most glorious structure of them all, the Mage’s Lyceum stood dormant and empty like a dark shadow looming over the city because one of the priests told Aelfric a great curse would come down upon him if he ever tore it down. More times than she could count, she’d heard Aelfric grumble that magic and sorcery was the dark and treacherous curse of lesser races who couldn’t defend themselves by force. He let the Lyceum stand, but its doors remained barred to the public and all the Alvarii slaves in the city were fitted with collars of red moonstone, the only jewel in all of Vennakrand known to stifle the natural ability to wield magic. There were few men in Rivenn Aelfric allowed to practice the dark art of sorcery, but even they were kept under lock and key, their studies and their practices strictly controlled by the king.
Maybe that was why she was so fascinated with Bren, she thought. Pahjah had told her many stories about the elves and the power they once possessed, but Brendolowyn was the only elf she’d ever seen without one of those awful collars around his neck. He was the only one she’d ever met who could actually use the abilities he’d been born with, but then he wasn’t even a full-blooded elf, was he?
Turning her gaze back over her shoulder, she found him quickly. He stood several inches above everyone else and immediately met her stare with those intense, lavender eyes. She shivered uncomfortably; he’d been watching her, almost as if he’d been waiting for her to turn around and seek him out.
Finn nudged her forward again as they were approaching the doors to the main hall, but even when they entered the vast, warm open hall she could still feel Bren’s eyes on her.
The main hall contained five long tables that stretched the never ending the length of the room, all of them already covered in heaping platters of food. Roasted meat and steaming plates of vegetables, warm, fresh bread and sweet treats that made her mouth water and her stomach grumble in reminder of just how much of her energy she’d expended as they traveled, and how little she’d actually eaten since she woke in Drekne so long ago it seemed like a distant memory.
As everyone began to file in behind her, settling into the benches nestled against those five incredibly long tables, Logren and Hodon led her toward a sixth table positioned across the ends of the others and slightly raised to look down upon them. The wall behind that table was painted with the wolf and moon sigil she’d seen on all the banners outside and the massive fire in the hearth beneath it made the wolf look like it was glowing. Logren sat her just beneath the wolf, in the very center of everything and Finn quickly crowded onto the bench at her right before anyone else had the chance.
Logren’s little boy insisted he sit next to her as well, and when Hodon called for everyone to fill their bellies it was all she could do to force herself to eat even though she felt like she was starving inside. The hall quickly filled with hundreds of chattering voices, and a quartet of musicians filled that vast space with song, but even as she tried to focus on the food in front of her there was just too much going on.
Finn seemed to have lost all his self-control, filling and refilling his plate twice before she’d even choked down more than a few bites of bread, and Vilnjar stared at his untouched plate of food as if he expected it was poisoned.
Roggi asked her dozens upon dozens of questions about everything from the ring on her finger to the sword in her belt, and even when Viina leaned across her husband to scold him and apologize for the child’s never ending curiosity, Roggi talked over her, asking his auntie if she had ever seen a real Drakiir or if she thought there
were Dvergr sleeping under the mountains like his papa said.
Between him and Finn she actually felt a little comfortable for the time being, but underneath that guise of comfort there was a part of her growing fretful. Even the ease she felt in Finn’s company was starting to frighten her.
Glancing over at him, he caught her stare and sheepishly grinned at her before reaching out to tear another hunk from the loaf of bread in front of him. He ripped into it with his teeth, crumbs tumbling down the front of his too-tight tunic and disappearing into his lap. She hadn’t noticed until then just how absurd he looked in those borrowed clothes, the scruff of facial hair patched across his chin and cheeks in desperate need of grooming. He was so barbaric at times, so unrefined that it should have turned her off completely, but instead she found it adorable to the point of endearing.
Just when she’d started to realize she stared a little too long, Roggi tugged at her sleeve to draw her away and she was actually a little grateful for the unending stream of questions that poured forth for a while. Had she ever ridden a horse? Was she really a princess? Did she have a crown? Could he see it? Would she tell him a story…?
She still hadn’t eaten much, her stomach was a twisted, empty void of nerves and tension. When Roggi started asking questions she had no answer for, she found herself pushing her plate away and leaning back to allow Finn to reach over her and take bites of her food that shouldn’t go to waste.
“Auntie, is it really true that you saved my da when he was a little boy?”
She had never done the things Logren confessed to her, had never saved anyone. She had barely even managed to save herself the night she ran from Trystay; in truth it had been Finn who saved her. Maybe it was him they should be looking to for answers, she thought. Glancing over at him again, she watched him suck the grease noisily from his fingers before he dropped a pile of clean pheasant bones onto his plate.
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 39