by Kate Kelley
Newlyweds. Ugh.
“Exactly my point. That woman could have been waiting outside the door and heard our conversation,” Terrin said before digging into his meal.
“It would have been less damning had you not admonished me,” Lyra retorted, licking the last of the bland porridge from her lips. Terrin’s eyes snagged on her mouth for a moment before he took another bite. Lyra poured herself a cup of tea and sipped the bitter herbal concoction. It was better than nothing.
“We are riding all day until nightfall. We should find a few more inns to keep us afloat. In a week, we will be in mountain territory and civilization will fall away.”
“And how long will we be out in the wilderness?” Lyra asked wearily over her tea.
“A week, perhaps, if we ride quickly.”
“I suppose there aren’t any more portals—”
“No.”
“Ah. Shame. You people should make more of those. And when will Oriel be joining us?”
Terrin tilted back his tea, drinking it in one gulp, and setting the cup down loudly.
“When we reach Thanes.”
Lyra scowled. “Why must be travel by himself? Can’t we wait a few days for him to catch up?”
Terrin shook his head resolutely, then stood and stretched, giving Lyra an excellent view of his muscles. She looked away, exasperated. He was much too comfortable being half-clothed around her.
“Oriel is an excellent hiker,” Terrin reassured her, tone bored. “He’ll be fine.”
As they mounted their rides and set on their way, Lyra breathed in a wisp of uncertainty in the cold air, the same feeling worming it’s way into her mind as before. But this was different from normal unease or wariness at the journey ahead. This came with an underlying darkness. A foreboding. Lyra looked behind her, finding nothing but the fading village, but couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was watching them, and waiting.
Chapter 24
The week was a blur of bobbing and numbness of backside as the monotony of riding several miles a day at a clipped pace took its toll. Terrin seemed less affected, which was to be expected but Lyra was still jealous that he didn’t seem to mind the furious pace. She had suffered at night too, laying as close to the edge of the bed as possible as to not touch Terrin and somehow still waking up wrapped in his arms every morning. But neither would back down and take the floor. They were a stubborn pair.
Somewhere along the way, mountains rose up into the sky as if silently erupting from the earth. They could see the black, snow capped mountains now--they were real. Lyra had the distinct notion that they were calling her name, coaxing her forward. At the very least, it was a beacon in the distance--a visible finish line they could work toward and know their goal was within reach.
Having just woken to a dull ashen morning, Lyra stretched and rose, dressing while Terrin sipped tea in bed.
They had fallen into a routine, untangling in the morning without a word about it, pretending it didn’t keep happening night after night, then Lyra would wash and dress. Terrin would study the map and fetch breakfast at the door. When they finished eating, they would set out on the road again.
Today was the last day at an inn. Their next stop would be nightfall, somewhere in the forest. Lyra was apprehensive at best. The cold wind lashed her face as she stepped outside. It was getting colder each passing day and Lyra wasn’t sure how they would survive nights out in this weather. As if reading her mind, Terrin pulled out a fur coat from his satchel.
“How did you fit that in there?” Lyra asked incredulous. Terrin simply shrugged and placed the coat around her shoulders, instantly shielding her from the cold.
“Where was this all last week?” Lyra asked, eyeing his satchel with confusion.
“It wasn’t cold enough. It’s wise to refrain from using luxuries before it’s needed when you’re traveling.” Lyra settled deeper into the coat and secured the front with the wooden clasps.
Now this is much better.
He mounted his horse and started off.
“Thank you,” Lyra called out behind him. He nodded ahead but didn’t turn.
Well that’s as sweet as it gets between us I suppose.
They rose through hilly forest, leaves crunching under them, the terrain turning rockier the longer they rode through paths of winding dizzying heights.
Terrin seemed to follow a beaten path--a way to climb the mountain steadily and evenly on horseback. At certain heights, and on certain corners, her horse would get too close to the edge and rocks would crumble off the side into the trees below. It was a good reminder for Lyra to pay attention to where she was going and not fall into the boredom of continuous riding.
After a full day’s ride, they emerged out onto a grassy hill looking out over the vast mountainside. The foliage was breathtaking; crimsons, purples, greens, yellows, and shades of orange in between painted the vast expanses of treetops, reaching toward the horizon. Lyra gasped as she dismounted and walked to the edge as the view pulled her forward.
“Sunset’s glow with autumn hue/Light the earth’s ridge on fire/All that sees falls to/Their knees, And praises her--the Mountain, the Keep.”
Lyra turned to Terrin who had appeared beside her.
“I didn’t know you read poetry,” she said evenly.
“I had an expensive education,” he replied dryly, eyes fixed on the beauty before him.
“This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” Lyra admitted, her eyes drinking in the landscape. She glanced at him to see him staring at her, eyes heated with the warmth of burning sunset. His eyes trailed over her golden curls with that spark in his eye, as if he knew the heartbreaking ending of a sad ballad was coming and he didn’t want to stay to hear it. His face returned to stone, burying whatever feelings had risen briefly to the surface.
“Where should we set up camp?” Lyra asked softly, wishing to keep him there a moment longer.
Terrin tore his eyes away from her, turning and surveying their surroundings. “Here is fine. Under these young trees. I’ll gather firewood. You--” he pulled out out a bundle from from his satchel, then another one, “lay these out.” He dumped them on the ground before turning into the woods behind them. Lyra blinked up at him.
“Can’t you just make fire out of nothing?”
“Not technically out of nothing. I need pyrogems, which I don’t have with me because I don’t like to waste resources. Firewood will be plentiful. Once the fire has started, I can magically keep it sustained and keep it from spreading while we sleep. But just because we can use magic doesn’t mean we always should.” He gave her a pointed look before turning toward the woods.
“Thanks for the lecture!” Lyra called out to his retreating back. She crossed to the horses and tied them loosely to a nearby tree, smoothing down their muzzles while they grazed on drying grass. Returning to the bundles, she lifted one and examined it. It was heavier than she expected.
“Some sort of portable bed?” she muttered to herself.
They seemed to be made of wool and--sticking her hand inside--fur! Rabbit, she guessed, at the luxurious minky softness.
By the time she felt for an even swatch of land and laid them out, Terrin had returned with an armful of thick firewood. The sun dipped deeper into the horizon, a fiery half sphere peeking behind the distant alpine peaks. A speckled hawk soared across the sky with what looked to be a snake dangling from its pointed beak.
“We’ll need water,” Lyra mentioned.
“And dinner, yes,” Terrin replied, his back to her as he set up and started the fire, “I have bread in my satchel and I’ll go grab a rabbit in a moment.”
Lyra wasn’t phased by hunting--she’d skinned her fair share of rabbits and squirrels. “Let me fetch the water at least. Feel useful.”
Terrin looked at her a moment, as if deciding if he should let her go or not.
“I spotted a river on the way, it shouldn’t be too far from here,” Lyra explained.
“No need for viciousness, Terrin. If you think I’m still going to try to run away, then you don’t know me very well.”
Terrin’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know you, you're correct. But I do know that you wouldn't be stupid enough to try to run now. I just want to make sure you know that danger is out there--and dallying alone isn’t safe.”
“Got it,” she replied briskly as Terrin handed a large metal canteen over to her. She took it and began walking into the woods.
“I mean in, Lyra. Ten minutes. Eight, actually.”
Her insides flipped at her name on his lips.
The woods were clear and dry, if not a little dark. It smelled like dead leaves and rich soil, a distinctively Autumn smell.
She made her way along about five minutes until she heard the unmistakable sound of a bubbling brook. And there it was, a small stream flowing through plant life and over gray rocks, bright fallen leaves coloring the otherwise crystal clear water. Walking carefully down the sloping bank to the creek, she approached and wondered if she could wash up in the stream too, and then dunked her canteen into the water. Icy water rushed past her fingertips. Prickles coursed through her arm.
Looks like I won’t be washing in this.
When the canteen was full to the brim, Lyra secured the lid and stood to return when a tickle of awareness quavered up her spine. Attempting to ignore the sense of dread, Lyra hurried up the slope and began walking back toward camp. Leaves crunched under her quick footfalls and she wished she could be quieter while also being quick.
“Lyyyrrraaa.”
The whisper sounded in her mind, like a blast of cold wind on her neck. She froze.
Spinning slowly, her aura rose hot in her center, ready to strike.
“Who’s there?” she called out tentatively, and was met with silence. Even though she was fairly certain the voice had been in her mind, the source could still be close by. It was newly dark, the sun having just fully set, and stars twinkling above her canopy of trees. She waited, listening. An owl hooted, and crickets sounded their nighttime croon.
Shadows wrapped around the trunks, tricking her mind into thinking that figures lurked behind them. Or was there really someone there? Had she really heard someone call her name, or was it the wind whistling through the branches?
Turning abruptly, she sprinted through the woods, not caring how loud she was, searching for magic, and keeping her aura ready to strike if the need arose.
“Oomph!” She ran straight into a person and struck--the angry red blast from her hand, knocking the person back and against a tree with a thud.
“Don’t you dare get up. I have another powerful mage with me,” she called out forcefully even as she heard the person stand, saw them walking steadily toward her. She readied another attack.
“You’ve got to stop attacking me, woman.” Terrin voice was like a warm blanket of comfort.
“Oh, shyte. Terrin!” She lowered her attacking hand and placed it over her thudding heart, catching her breath.
“I thought you--someone said my name back there, by the creek, and I felt the strangest darkness wash over me--it was awful.” Terrin looked at her sharply, taking her by the arms.
“Someone said your name?” he asked. A shadow crossed his features.
“I think so. I can’t be sure. It could have been in my head, but that feeling of dread was real.”
“I’ve felt it this entire trek,” he said in a low voice, “it’s dark magic. I think someone is following us. But if they didn’t attack, it could very well be a mental manipulation. You need to make sure you are always shielded. Now, back to camp.”
“Are you going to check the forest?” Lyra asked.
Terrin shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone again. If they want to fight, they can approach me like a real mage,” he said darkly.
When they returned to camp, Lyra was still shaken, but the smells of roasting meat and warmed biscuits helped calm her a little. She busied her mind by pouring some water in the bowls they brought for the horses.
She sat on a log by the crackling fire, feeling safe in the element’s glowing circle. When the rabbits had cooked and crisped sufficiently, they removed them from the fire and let them cool before eating their fill, then following it up with water from the canteen. It was refreshing, and though the night cold, Lyra felt comfortable taking her coat off as the fire sufficiently warmed her. Terrin was already without a coat. Procuring another canteen from his satchel, he drank deeply.
“You already had water?” Lyra asked accusingly.
“Whiskey,” he replied with a grin.
The corners of Lyra’s mouth lifted of their own accord. “Let me have a swig,” she said, holding her hand out. He quirked a skeptical brow at her but handed it over.
“If memory serves me well, you can’t handle your spirits.”
Lyra snatched the canteen from his hand with a look of challenge and took a long swig. The liquid turned into fire and burned her tongue and throat on the way down. Her eyes welled up with fat tears.
“Blech! How do you men drink that?! It burns!” She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Terrin chuckled, a rich, deep sound that soothed Lyra’s soul.
“You grow fond of the burn,” he replied, gesturing for the return of the canteen. He took a long swig, tossing it back like water.
Warmth spread through Lyra’s belly and the tension leaked out of her muscles.
“I suppose it warms one well enough.” She gestured for the return of the canteen. Terrin grinned again and handed it back to her, their fingers touching lightly. Lyra took another swig, her eyes never leaving his, rising to the challenge yet again. His eyes dipped to her mouth as she swallowed the drink. She suddenly felt too hot and took off the leather vest over her blouse. The spirits were already swaying the world around her.
They took turns drinking from the canteen a few more times before Terrin returned it to the satchel.
She lay back on her sleeping mat, breathing in the cool air and staring up into the brilliant stars, shining like a billion peepholes to the universe.
“This isn’ so bad,” she said, her words slurring slightly, she propped herself up on her elbows and turned her head to look at him. His proximity surprised her. He was right next to her on his own mat.
“You moved your mat,” she said accusingly. Terrin nodded once, laying on his side toward her, his arm propping him up. Lyra breathed deeply, the scent of him overwhelming her.
“I don’t like you so close,” Lyra said, confused.
Gah, but I drank much too much.
“Why not?” Terrin asked, his voice impossibly deep, she swore the vibrations ran through her body. He gazed at her through half-hooded eyes.
“Because of--that! The voice, the way you smell, the face--just too close.”
Terrin smiled wolfishly, inching closer. “You did say I make you uncomfortable.” He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear, his finger lingering on the skin behind her ear, then trailing down her neck to her collarbone. Lyra closed her eyes and shivered, her skin breaking out into gooseflesh. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.
“You do it on purpose. You know how it affects me. I don’t know why you are so cruel.” She pouted, grabbing his hand to push it away but not seeming to be able to remove her hand from his. They stilled, looking into each other’s eyes. Terrin laced their fingers together, his face growing solemn.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he said to her, a reverence in his tone. Lyra’s jaw dropped, unexplainable tears burning her eyes. She blinked them away, pulling her hand from his and bolting upward. The world swayed with the heavy drink still running through her veins.
“You aren’t permitted to say that to me. No,”
she poked a finger into his chest, “You’re--wow you’re a solid wall of muscle. No. You’re...not allowed to say sweet things to me whilst you’re engaged to the she-devil. An’ I’m engaged to Edwin.” She crossed her arms, chin defiantly pointed in the air.
Terrin laughed, lying back down on his mat. “She-devil, that’s a new one. What makes you call her that? I think she’s just misunderstood.”
Lyra gaped at him and huffed out an incredulous breath. “Misunderstood? Mmhm, I bet you say pretty things to her, too, don’t you? Abner did call you a ladies man. You’re a man-whore! Ha!” Lyra laid down and turned her back to him, fuming. Her head was still spinning.
“Hmm, I won’t deny that I do love women,” he mumbled sleepily, “but no, I don’t speak with Navi in that way. Our betrothment is simply a political alliance.”
Lyra sniffed, curious. “So you haven’t kissed her then?” she asked, despite herself, her back still turned toward him. A beat of silence stained the air.
“No, I haven’t. Would you be upset if I had?” Terrin asked.
Lyra missed the amusement in his voice. “Uhh, no! I don’t think of you like that. I have absolutely no attraction to you at all.”
The fire crackled, the only sound for the next few minutes.
“You’ve kissed Edwin. And Oriel. That upsets me. It makes me feel like a lad, this jealousy.” His voice was like soft gravel. He didn’t mumble, or slur his words.
Lyra tried hard to stomp down the butterflies in her stomach.
Surely he’s teasing me.
“Edwin an’ I are to be married. Stop trying to seduce me with the hair and the muscles and the words--and all that..”
She waited for a reply, and when she didn’t get one, she stole a glance over her shoulder toward him. His eyes were closed and his breaths were even and deep. She turned back with a growl and tucked herself into her sleeping bag tightly before promptly passing out.
Chapter 25
The next few nights were much the same, except that Lyra refrained from drinking from that flask again. She had said way too much and acted like a complete wanton, though she was surprised she had held her ground and didn’t interact with him further. The thing he’d said to her though--that she was the most beautiful person he had ever met--that pained her inexplicably. She couldn’t dwell on it without feeling an acute stab in her chest.