Winter's Sword

by Alexandra Little

  “Charming,” I murmured.

  “Isn’t it?” Sir Pirridan asked, with just the right hint of sarcasm. “I am sorry for all of this trouble, Lord Baradan. I hope it can all be resolved shortly.”

  I wasn’t certain whether to believe him. “Aerik,” I said. “Choose a room. Rest.”

  “I have some…matters to discuss with Firien,” my guardian replied, and gestured to the elf.

  I suppressed a grin. The Queen was far too focused on whether or not Dalandaras and I were sleeping together, when she should have been looking to other members of the elven entourage she had sent us.

  I said my good nights, and chose a door. It opened silently, the wood smoothed and polished. It was not the rundown place of the outpost, though I didn’t know why I had expected it to be so. There was a simple bed and clean linen, and fruit on a small table. But there was no forth wall. Like the Queen’s rooms, the wall was simply not there, and was open to the elements.

  I dropped my cloak, and stripped off my boots, and went to the balcony. The railing appeared thin and delicate, all scrolls the size of twigs, but they held fast when I leaned against them and stared out into the ravine, and the lake below. I could see the Queen’s waterfall from here, far to my right, and had the impression that her old magic hung heavy there.

  I heard soft footsteps behind me, and knew whose they were.

  “This is a lovely place,” I murmured.

  Dalandaras came up beside me. “I am certain the Queen means you no harm.”

  “Unless I stand in her way,” I replied.

  “There is that,” Dalandaras said.

  So whatever he had to tell the Queen, he was still on my side. Why did there have to be sides? It was simpler when the enemy was Adhannor. Now I had to be wary of elf and human alike. “So even you think she might be tempted by the old magic.”

  “She honored her father’s proclamation that none should go my grandfather’s old lands. At least, when my grandfather was still alive.”

  “And now he is dead. And Adhanel, and Adhannor, and the others.”

  Dalandaras nodded, and stared out into the tree tops. “And the only one left with any comprehension of the old magic is you. And I do not think the Queen will listen to…to…”

  “A human babe?” I asked lightly. “I heard her.”

  Dalandaras nodded. “You and I know you are not a babe. Not anymore.”

  “No,” I replied, and looked up at him. He had aged in the few weeks since I had first met him. His jaw was hard, his skin worn, the sheen of his skin a dulled. I still loved him, but love wasn’t enough for my parents. I felt the weight of the stolen map against my breast, and could sense the faraway spirits of the dead who had knelt to me as Lady, and the foulings and dreadwolves that seemed to be waiting for my command. And now the elves could want the magic that resided within me, and once the Empire found out…

  A finger touched my chin. It was Dalandaras. “You go into your thoughts now,” he said. “I used to be able to read your face. But you go somewhere that I can’t follow.”

  That was probably true enough, “How far will you follow me, Ar Dalandaras?” and as I said those words, I could hear both a scared girl and the well of old power that had made Adhanel what she was.

  “For you, I would go to the very end.”

  He meant it; I saw that in his gray eyes. For both the girl and the Lady, he would go to whatever end I asked him. My mouth had gone dry, and I licked my lips. “Know then that I love you. Whatever I may ask of you after this, I love you.”

  He kissed me then, his warm lips against mine, and then his body against mine. There were too many clothes between us, and we both wanted them gone. And then, once we were skin to skin, there was not much time to think at all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Having control of most awesome and terrible powers did not stop the blush that spread from my hair to my toes when Father caught a disheveled Dalandaras following me out of my room the next morning.

  Dalandaras had not meant to stay very long, but we had both fallen asleep, and not awoken until dawn’s first light. It was unfortunately my father’s face who greeted us when we opened the door.

  He did not look pleased. “We’re to go to Winter’s Crown,” he said through gritted teeth. I do expect you to come with me, Eva.”

  “Sir,” Dalandaras started, but Father turned his back.

  Before he could move away, I blocked his exit. “You know I will go with you. You’ve suspected Dalandaras and I before, so what is this about?”

  “You are still my daughter,” Father said.

  “Are we going to go back to that again?” I asked.

  “So I would rather not see any man, human or elf, leave your room in the morning.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I had been a little more preoccupied with Adhannor, and all the great and terrible power I had inherited. “I, ah, understand.”

  “And,” he looked over his shoulder to where Dalandaras stood.

  “I will leave,” Dalandaras said, a pale blush under the sheen of his cheeks.

  “You may as well stay,” I said. “As my father probably has something to say about you.”

  “I do,” my father replied. Sleep had done him well, and even in torn and bloodied clothes he had returned some color to his cheeks, and stood tall and proud as any Baradan. “Sir Pirridan and I were up late; and Dalandaras came later still. His first loyalty is to his Queen.”

  “And my first loyalty is now to ghosts and rotting corpses,” I said calmly. “I cannot even guarantee loyalty to the Empire. What would Sir Pirridan have to say about that?”

  “Nothing good, if you let him know.”

  “He will find out, before long,” I replied. “And I am aware where Dalandaras’ loyalties lie. Did it ever cross your mind that I am counting on knowing where his loyalties lie?”

  “What are you playing at, Eva?”

  “I need access to the Dagnar, and what the Queen’s plan is. Who better to give me that information than a Dagnar prince?”

  “Now I feel slightly insulted,” Dalandaras said. “I would not report your movements to the Queen.”

  “I know that,” I replied. “I cannot have both of you mad at me!” I had seen Mother at the bargaining table often enough - negotiating with this captain or that one, or acting as mediator between the two. Why did two noble lords not see that I was simply doing what I had been trained to do since I was a child? “I am doing what I must do for the lands that are now mine.”

  “I thought you would release the spirits from their captivity,” my father said.

  “When I figure out how,” I replied. “For now, let us figure out the situation at Winter’s Crown, and then we can have an argument. Now, which room was Aerik’s?”

  Father gestured to the las door on the right. I crossed to it, but my hand paused before I could knock. I heard voices beyond.

  “Will you stay with me?” It was Firien.

  “You know I cannot,” Aerik replied. “I have my duty.”

  “As I have mine.”

  Firien and Aerik? Well, well. I wasn’t surprised that they had decided to be together, only that they had dared to do it under the Dagnar queen’s roof.

  “But mine is a duty of love as well,” Aerik said. “Can you say the same about your loyalty to your queen?”

  “You know I cannot.”

  “Then why are you asking me to betray my queen? For that is what Eva is.”

  “And she is like a daughter to you. I have never had children, but I know how deep a bond it must be. But her father has returned to her life. You are longer needed—”

  “Do not say that,” Aerik said angrily. Do not dare say that my own family would abandon me!”

  That would be my signal. I opened the door. “Aerik is my family,” I said quietly to a stunned Firien. They were dressed only in trousers and loose shirts. “And he will be coming with me. Get dressed.”

  The rage in Firien’s face failed to
abate, but Aerik assumed the look of neutrality that my mother had so relied on when dealing with traders.

  “Do you know what you ask of him?” Firien demanded in Elvish.

  “I ask what has to be asked,” I replied in the common tongue. “Do not insult your lover by speaking in a language he doesn’t understand. Although I must say, I’m a little relieved you are not eager to join this party. If you were eager to come, I would say that the Queen had ordered you to spy on us.”

  His eyes narrowed just the slightest.

  It seemed Aerik had become used to reading the elf warrior, too. “Firi…”

  “I cannot help what my queen asks of me in duty,” Firien replied.

  “Then why ask me to stay with you?” Aerik demanded.

  “I care for anyone Aerik loves,” I interrupted. “And I hurt for him now. I am very conscious of what I ask of him—”

  “It is easy to ask,” Firien said. “When your father and lover travel with you.”

  “And I ask for you to join us.”

  “You…” Both Aerik and Firien stared at me.

  I came closer to them, just in case sharp ears were listening in. “I gladly honor you for what you feel for Aerik. But I am also aware that the Queen will not let me wander freely so easily. It is better that you agree to spy for your Queen, than for me to look for spies behind trees and rocks.”

  “It is fair enough,” Firien murmured.

  “Shall I leave you two alone, then?” I asked. “Ten minutes.”

  An hour later, we were all of us assembled again, along with Sir Pirridan, skis, and two days’ worth of rations, and on our way out of Tal Uil’s ravine.

  At the edge of the snow-bound forest and the Dagnar lands, the foulings greeted us, Annel at their head. Sir Pirridan faltered, but I knelt and let them come to me.

  “Eaten, have you?” I asked as Annel licked dry blood from her snout. “I hope you are full, for if you are to come with me, you might not eat for some time. The lands around Winter’s Crown are not flush with prey.”

  I knew they understood, but they made no effort to turn from me. They had decided, then.

  “What madness is this?” Sir Pirridan asked. His hand rested rather uncomfortably on the hilt of his sword.

  “I would not make any move to harm them,” Dalandaras warned. “They are the Lady’s, and will not harm you so long as you stay in her good graces.”

  The largest of the males chomped with his jaw.

  “And I will name you Dhreo,” I warned. “After a rather disreputable pirate I met once.”

  We skied in silence for two days, stopping only to sleep under the dance of the aurora. I needed no tent - I slept among the fouling pack. I knew the others kept a close watch on me, but none dared to approach. They would have to get used to the foulings eventually; if I had any influence over the foulings, they would not harm those I did not wish harm to. I added that to the list of things that I needed to figure out when it came to my newfound powers.

  The morning of the third day, we came upon the main road to Winter’s Crown. Things had changed. Instead of dirt and snow, the road had been salted and scattered with small rocks. There were mounds spaced evenly alongside the road, no more than two or three minutes’ walk from each other. When we came upon the first one, I saw that it was not just a mound, but a guard shack of sorts, dug into the ground with a roof of stone.

  “My lord…” the first guard murmured in amazement as we passed - I assumed they spoke at the sight of my father. There was no time to inquire - the leather and fur-clad guard bolted for the next guardhouse. And then to the next, and then several up, until he reached the gates of Winter’s Crown.

  “It may be time for the foulings to depart,” my father said to me.

  I had almost forgotten them. They were like a second skin now. I scratched Annel on the head, and they leapt between guardhouses and darted up the mountains, their fur and skin turning white and blending with the snow. I could feel their presence, but in this light I could not make them out. I doubted that any guard would be able to do so.

  The mine carts still came and went, pulled by the stout northern horses, but each wagon now had two soldiers armed with rifles sitting at each end.

  “Where have the reinforcements come from?” my father asked.

  “The Captain of the Guard pulled many of them from the mines,” Sir Pirridan replied. “And sent for reinforcements. It was pure chance that I was at Timbraw - our resupply outpost,” he explained to the elves. “Several days’ travel south, out of the frozen tundra.”

  The gates were open, but had been fortified with iron plating. My father’s name was on the lips of every soldier that we passed. That was good. Whatever the order of command was now, my father still had many who respected him.

  The town had not changed, nor had the road to the Fort. It was still the same mucked road, though it looked as if they had tried to improve it with salt and rocks as they had the trade road. But nothing quite erased the mud and slush and coal dust from the houses and taverns and other buildings that comprised the town. I half-expected Sir Aros or Crowndan to greet us, but I had to remind myself that they were both dead. I only mourned for Sir Aros.

  “I believe that the Governor would like to see you immediately,” Sir Pirridan replied.

  My father cut him off. “I know the way.”

  But as we climbed to the Fort itself, we were intercepted.

  It was Tunir and Iasul, the sons of the Captain of the Guard. They were no longer fresh-faced and seeking adventure, but had that haunted look of soldiers who had seen their first battle and it had turned bloodier than they had ever dreamed.

  “So it’s true?” Tunir said, his face falling. “Zarah is dead.”

  “By her own treachery,” I murmured, and hugged them both. They had been a crucial part of my escapades into the ruins, and I was thankful they had survived the ensuing battle.

  “What of the Dead Lands?” Iasul asked. “That is what everyone is calling it now, the lands beyond the elves’ lands, where none dared to tread. Is it true you went there?”

  Their mother Ehledrath, the Captain of the Guard, approached my father. “My lord,” she began. “What has been happening? You’ve been relieved of command, and those, those creatures—”

  “Later,” my father said curtly. Then in a whisper only we could hear, he added: “Tonight. You know the hour.”

  So my father still had allies who would help him, even with him relieved of his command. That was good. We would need them. My father and Aerik would need them, at least, for I doubted that any in the Empire would aide me once they learned what I possessed.

  “Stay with your mother,” I said to them both. “And go with her tonight, and I will tell you all.”

  Tunir and Iasul nodded. Whatever they had seen in that battle that haunted them so, they were still standing, and stood with their mother.

  We left them behind, and passed through the gates of the Fort proper. It had not changed at all; it was hardly touched. Any fighting must have been confined to the town walls; that was good.

  “Are our rooms untouched?” My father asked.

  “I believe so,” Sir Pirridan replied. “I do not believe they have been disturbed.”

  “Go there,” my father told me. “I wish to speak to the new Governor alone.”

  “I will have to speak with them eventually,” I said.

  “Let me see what the damage is first,” my father said.

  “It will let you know how to act,” Dalandaras murmured in my ear.

  He was right; my father was making sure that I would not have to go in blind. I nodded my consent.

  Sir Pirridan left with my father, and I led the others to our rooms in the Fort. There had been a ransacking, of sorts - papers and clothes had been moved, drawers left half-open. My small room looked untouched, but perhaps the new governor hadn’t been informed that I had purposely chosen one of the smaller rooms instead of the large space due to me as head o
f my mother’s House, and heir to my father’s. It had been a small rebellion of mine, to be as far away as possible from my father. After all we had been through, it looked petty now.

  We stripped off our cloaks, and hung or draped them in the common room.

  “Where is he?” a rough woman’s voice demanded from the outer hallway. “I know the bastard’s here!”

  The voice had the same brogue that Aerik’s had, and as the woman found her way to us, my suspicions were confirmed.

  “Aerlad!” I said.

  The newcomer grinned her broad, weather-whipped grin. “My lady!”

  I hugged her. She still had the smell of rope tar and grease on her, though she had been covered in wool and fur as was best in this cold place. “You came all this way?”

  “For my brother and you,” Aerlad said, and pulled away. “Where is that boy? Aerik!”

  The two siblings pulled each other into what could only be described as a hug that resembled two bears wrestling. Their relationship was obvious. Both were broad and tanned and wrinkled, her hair as gray and grizzled as his beard.

  “Aerlad,” I explained to Dalandaras and Firien. “Older sister to Aerik. A good captain in her own right. And,” I added with emphasis. “A very good friend. To all of us.”

  Dalandaras nodded.

  “I…ah…” Aerik disentangled himself from his sister. “Aerlad, please meet Firien, a warrior of the Dagnar elves.”

  Aerlad held out her arms to the elf, then paused as she took in the pointed ears and silver skin and hair. “Elf, eh? I’ll say.”

  “And,” Aerik added with the same emphasis I had just spoken with. “My partner.”

  “Oh? Well then,” Aerlad replied, and embraced the elf with the same ferocity she had just embraced her brother. “Welcome to the family.”