by M C Dwyer
Edmun squeezed his hand and was gone, leaving Nepenthe thoughtful and alone in the moonlight.
The next morning brought grey clouds and a clinging mist that kept trying to be rain. It did not bother Nepenthe in the slightest, but it made the rest of the company inclined to grumble as horses were brought out and supplies stowed.
Stablemaster Wyatt appeared leading Jasper and Onyx. Nepenthe looked up in surprise when Wyatt held Jasper’s reins out to him.
“I’m riding Jasper?”
“I doubt he’d let you ride anyone else,” the Stablemaster said wryly, then passed Onyx off to Aidan. Barth and Mae each had geldings; Barth’s was a huge creature that was almost a draught animal. The Farlan riders had their own horses and were stowing their gear as well.
“Thank you,” Nepenthe said, accepting the reins. Jasper nudged his shoulder and he patted him absentmindedly.
“Give me your bags, Aileron,” Wyatt said, slipping them from Nepenthe’s hand and attaching them to the saddle.
They were nearly ready when Edmun entered the courtyard.
“Your majesty,” Aidan said, bowing. Everyone else, already mounted, merely nodded. Nepenthe ducked his head, remembering the conversation from the night before.
Edmun spoke quietly to Aidan for a moment, who nodded, then mounted and turned Onyx towards the palace gates.
Nepenthe moved to follow but was stayed by Edmun’s hand on Jasper’s rein.
“You forgot your cloak,” Edmun said, passing up the rolled bundle. Nepenthe flushed but twisted in the saddle to tie it on behind. When he turned back, he found his hand captured and held by Edmun’s. He pressed something into Nepenthe’s hand.
“A gift?” Nepenthe asked, brows furrowed in confusion. His confusion only deepened when he opened his hand to find a familiar silver earring.
“Not a gift,” Edmun said, shaking his head. “An exchange.”
After a moment of incomprehension, Nepenthe’s eyes grew wide in shock, and he sucked in a breath. Edmun’s hand covered the one holding the earring, calming its trembling.
“Think about it, Shadow. You don’t have to answer now.”
Nepenthe managed a miniscule nod that was neither acknowledgment nor agreement, but simple blank bewilderment.
“Come home safe,” Edmun said, patting Jasper on the neck. “Please.”
Nepenthe nodded again rather mechanically, and Jasper turned to follow the other horses out of the courtyard.
At the gate, Nepenthe woke up enough to look back at the lone figure of the king and lift a hand in farewell. Edmun waved in return until Nepenthe could see him no longer.
Chapter 32
Aidan led the way through the streets of Lainen, and Jasper followed without any guidance from Nepenthe.
This was fortunate, as Nepenthe had no attention to spare. He continued to stare down at his clenched fist, now damp with the falling rain, thinking about the earring within. What had Edmun meant by giving it to him? Or rather, offering it as a trade? That was almost harder to decipher, as an outright gift was fairly straightforward, if still problematic. To ask for Nepenthe’s earring in exchange—what was he thinking? Was it possible he’d managed to untangle one of Nepenthe’s greatest secrets? But if that were so, why not come right out and say so?
The problem was too difficult to unravel, and Nepenthe was eventually forced to set it aside and pay attention to the road. At their first night in an inn, however, he borrowed a needle and a potato and pierced his left ear, then slid the earring in and fastened it securely.
In the days to come, he found himself thinking of the earring and being inexplicably cheered despite the seriousness of their mission. He often caught himself humming strange, wandering tunes that had no match save in the sighing of the breeze through the trees.
The rest of the company was adjusting to life on the road as well, though with varying degrees of success. The Farlans primarily kept to themselves. Aidan was frequently riding out ahead of the group, scouting the road and planning where they were going to stop at night. Mae and Barth rode on either side of Nepenthe, three abreast when the road allowed it, and single file when they encountered other travellers on the road.
For the first week, they stayed at inns every night, making use of their Aileron status to acquire rooms. The farther they got from Lainen, however, the more difficult it became to find towns and villages that were spaced to match their travel speed. They started camping out some nights, which meant watch rotations and camp duties. Nepenthe remembered this routine from the previous summer’s journey, but this time he was part of it.
About three weeks into their travels, Neria and her two guards turned northeast and headed back to the plains. Aidan and company continued on north and west, skirting the edges of the Farlan plains and entering into a region of grassy foothills.
Nepenthe tried to remember the maps he’d looked at in the library but could not come up with a reason for them to continue this far north.
“Where are we going?” he asked Jahan. After the departure of his mother, Jahan and Taela had taken to riding next to Nepenthe, while Barth and Mae either dropped back to rear guard or rode ahead to join Aidan.
“We ride for Tolmen Gate,” Jahan answered. At Nepenthe’s look of confusion, he explained, “It’s the only good pass through the Talusian Mountains and into Breccia. We could have gone through Durlagh Pass, but it’s many miles to the south and leads into Talus. The road is longer and more dangerous, and if we do not wish to be caught on the western side of the mountains come winter, quicker is better.”
Nepenthe blinked, considering. It was still summer; he hadn’t been thinking about snow. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?”
“Another four weeks, if we run into no trouble in the mountains. Once we arrive, I have no way to know how long our business will take us.”
The blood drained from Nepenthe’s face at this reminder of their destination, and he shuddered, pushing it away. To distract himself, he followed his mental wall and suddenly discovered the shuttered window.
“That’s new,” he murmured, poking at it cautiously. The shutters swung open under his touch, allowing him to see a swirl of images. He closed the shutters, and the sight vanished.
He played with this for a while until a voice broke into his reverie.
“Can you tell me who created your earring?”
Nepenthe blinked his vision clear and focused on Jahan. After glancing to see that the Ailerons were out of earshot, he said, “I don’t think I remember.” He poked around his memories a bit and produced a blurry image of someone who reminded him of Orin. Or perhaps Orin had reminded him of this person. He returned to his window, flinging back the shutters and concentrating on the morass of memories. There was one that whispered of fire and pain, and he reached in and snagged it.
“Stare into the fire, my dear,” a voice said. “Focus on the flames. I’m afraid this will hurt a great deal.”
Nepenthe looked up at the speaker. It was an older, kindly looking man with a balding head and plain brown robes. He was holding an unbroken ring of amber that glinted in the fire and a short, sharp knife.
Shivering, he turned to stare deep into the flames and saw two slitted orange eyes gazing back from a sinuous shape. The water in his blood withdrew slightly under that gaze, and then there was pain in his ear and the fire was sweeping through his body, racing through his arteries and tracing along his nerves, burning and changing as it went.
Nepenthe pulled himself free with a gasp to find both Jahan and Taela looking at him in concern. “I’m all right,” he said, panting slightly. “It was a monk.”
“Ah!” Taela said, her eyes widening. “The Brotherhood.”
Jahan nodded thoughtfully, and Nepenthe looked from one to the other and back again.
“What is the Brotherhood?”
“The Brotherhood of Fire,” Jahan explained, “is a group of fire spirit-touched men who have chosen to live apart to better tame
the fire in their blood.”
“No women?” Nepenthe asked, and Taela chuckled.
“For some reason, women seem to have less trouble handling fire spirit power. The Brotherhood is also fairly well known for experimenting with talismans, so it makes sense that your earring was made by them.”
Nepenthe frowned. “If they’re so well known, how come I’ve never heard of them before now?”
Jahan answered, “They’re also fairly secretive. And ever since the destruction of Brae, they’ve all but vanished. Some people have responded to the events in Breccia with hatred for all spirit-kind, so it’s understandable. But now I wonder if their disappearance has anything to do with Pyrdred.”
“You mean, in a direct sort of way?” Nepenthe asked.
“It would explain how one man suddenly had the power to send a sickness from half a continent away,” Taela said thoughtfully, and Jahan nodded.
A faint trace of fire spirit wafted by on the breeze, and Nepenthe shivered.
Nothing else occurred to trouble their journey to the mountains, save that Aidan’s naturally quick temper grew downright snappish.
“Try not to take it to heart, Penthe,” Mae said after Aidan had thrown up his hands and stalked away from camp. “He’s worried about you.”
Jahan looked after Aidan’s retreating figure. “I don’t think that’s all that is bothering him.” At Nepenthe’s questioning look, he said, “Something has stirred up the fire in his blood. I will speak to him. He needs to master himself before we confront Pyrdred.”
Nepenthe nodded and hunched his shoulders, looking once more like the frightened waif he’d been a year before. He was still frightened; the thought of confronting his brother turned his stomach into a whirlpool that left him sick and dizzy. But for the sake of Edmun and all of Alain—and for his own sake, as well—he was going to try.
A few days later they reached Tolmen Gate, and Nepenthe gazed up in wonder. Some ancient upheaval had thrown a titanic rock across two others, making a rough doorway. They rode through single file, and Barth had to duck to avoid scraping his head against the roof. The stone seemed to press in around them, but it was only a few minutes before they emerged on the other side. Nepenthe sighed in relief, and saw Aidan do the same.
“That made me nervous,” he said, nudging Jasper closer and smiling slightly.
Aidan returned the smile faintly, but just then a breeze swept through, ruffling Nepenthe’s hair and briefly exposing his ears.
Nepenthe quickly covered the right ear and its amber ring, but Aidan was staring at the left in open-mouthed shock that quickly turned to disgust.
“I knew it,” he said, practically spitting.
“Knew what?” Nepenthe asked. He drew Jasper to halt, and Onyx stopped, as well.
“I didn’t believe the rumors at first,” Aidan said, his voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself. “When I came back from the road survey and saw how you looked at each other, I wondered—but I didn’t think Edmun would fall for something like that.”
“Something like what?” Nepenthe asked, his face now dead white.
“That!” he cried, stabbing a finger at Nepenthe’s ear. “How did you seduce him? How long have you been sharing the king’s bed?”
Nepenthe’s mouth was hanging open in shock. He wondered, vaguely, where the others were, and if he should call for Jahan.
“I saw you that night,” Aidan continued, his eyes now wide and flaring green. “It may have been your mother’s form, but that was you kissing him.”
Flinching, Nepenthe pulled away. Jasper sidestepped, then paused. “I’m not what you say I am,” he whispered. “I’m no catamite. And Edmun would never—”
“Filth,” Aidan snarled.
And then, finally, Jahan rode up, placing himself between the two horses. “Peace, Aidan. Your king is not the sort of man to do such a thing. And Nepenthe—”
“Don’t speak to me of him,” he said, jabbing his heels into Onyx’s side and causing him to half rear in startled surprise. He rode away, and Jahan turned to Nepenthe.
“Peace, child,” he said, placing a hand on Nepenthe’s. “It’s merely the fire at work in his blood. He knows you would not do such a thing.”
Nepenthe sniffed and swiped at his eyes. “He was right about one thing. It was no chaste kiss on the cheek.” He rubbed his eyes again and stared at the tears on his hands. Ghostly strains of music wafted in on the growing breeze, and Nepenthe looked up with horror that was matched on Jahan’s face.
“Go, child,” he breathed. “I’ll lead the others away. Go!”
With a cry, Nepenthe gathered Jasper’s reins and launched him down the mountain. There was only the faintest of paths to follow, and Nepenthe had no time to give Jasper anything but the briefest of instructions. He simply held on and trusted Jasper’s feet not to falter.
The wind swept in, whipping his hair and clothes and rocking the trees as they flew past, and ever the ghostly song grew stronger until words could be made out.
Down from high and lofty mountains
Up from wet and bubbling fountains
Nepenthe wept as he rode, unable to stop and beyond reason. This side of the mountain was densely wooded, and they dodged among the trees and leapt a meandering brook that seemed intent on crossing their path as many times as possible.
Down from peaks and up from canyons
Water sprites and tree companions
Spirit of rock and heart of ocean
Called to your aid by your emotion
Even as the song grew in power and the shapes of spirits could now be seen whisking past on the wind and scuttling along the ground, Nepenthe found it in himself to be glad. At least this time—this time? Had this happened before?—there was no one to be hurt.
Gentle soul, your heart is breaking
For you, all spirits now are waking
From their rest and simple sleep
Brought to you because you weep
The path opened into a clearing, and Nepenthe pulled the exhausted Jasper to a halt and fell off his back. The spirit storm surged around him, caressing his tear-streaked face and turning to seek whatever it was that had brought tears to his eyes and summoned the storm.
Wretched make we those
Who torture and oppose
Our dear daughter
Bound by water
Spirit friend
To the end
We serve
Always
Thee
The storm exploded around Nepenthe. Balked of its purpose, the summoned spirits turned on anything in the vicinity. Trees shattered and rocks burst, their shards flying dangerously close. Nepenthe threw his arms around Jasper and wrapped him in his own water power, marking him as untouchable. The walls in his mind trembled and shook, dangerously unbalanced by the surge of water and the chaos in the air.
The storm spread out in a widening circle of destruction and eventually faded. Nepenthe used the last of his strength to verify that Jasper was unhurt before he slumped to the ground. The ring, pushed past endurance, was forced to choose between maintaining the walls in his mind and preserving the physical shape. It chose the mind, retreating upward; and Nepenthe slept, utterly exhausted and entirely female.
Chapter 33
Nepenthe awoke to darkness that slowly brightened and resolved into the glow of a fire. His—or rather, her—eyes fluttered open, and she took in the sight of camp as usual. Jahan and Taela tended the fire and supper, while Mae was setting out blankets. Barth and Aidan were nowhere to be seen.
She sat up in sudden alarm. “Is everyone all right?” Her voice sounded a bit strange to her ears: a bit too high and breathy. Maybe it was the panic.
At her words, all three turned and looked at her, Jahan and Taela with visible relief and Mae with interest and speculation.
“Everyone is fine,” Jahan said, approaching her with a bowl of soup. “Though we were more than a bit worried about you.”
Without
turning her head, Nepenthe could see the outlines of the destruction she’d wrought and flinched. “I’m fine.”
At that, Mae laughed. “Yes, that’s our Penthe.” And then she went about her business and paid no more attention to Nepenthe.
Nepenthe glanced after her in confusion, and then turned back to Jahan.
“How do you feel?” he said gently.
“Fine, really,” she said, frowning slightly.
“What can you remember?”
“About today? Or in general?” She poked at the wall in her mind and had to stop when it trembled visibly. She quickly backed away.
“Your earring appears to have failed,” he said, even more gently than before.
Nepenthe froze, then looked down at herself in shock. Yes, the earring had definitely failed there. While she was still of slight build, there were curves there that hadn’t been there before. Her stomach churned faintly, and she looked up at Jahan in mute appeal. “You knew?”
He bowed slightly. “I knew, as did my mother and Taela. The others found out when we came upon your unconscious body. Aidan took it the hardest; he’s taking some time alone to process.”
Remembering his words from earlier, Nepenthe shuddered. “I can’t believe he would think that I—that Edmun—” She stopped, blushing.
“I think we may safely place the blame for this at your brother’s door. I have felt the power of fire for the past several weeks. It has inflamed the fire in his blood, stoking the flames of his jealousy.”
“Oh,” Nepenthe said in a small voice. Aidan was still jealous of her? She had been feeling abandoned by him ever since—well, ever since that disastrous day in the training yard.
“He’ll get over it,” Mae said, bringing over two cups of tea and plopping herself next to Nepenthe. “Though maybe not as fast as some of us,” she added, grinning.
She passed over one of the cups of tea and Nepenthe wrapped her hands around it, grateful for the warmth. It was chilly up here in the mountains.
Mae continued. “Us women have to stick together, especially now that we’re evenly matched.”