"The Dawn that Rose from Fire"

Novel November Day 23- Following their loss, the party reaches Waypoint Inn

Chapter 13

Kaelen dragged her onto her feet, but she fought him, clawing at his unyielding skin. He wanted to get them off the ice before the wyrm took another. Alenyah didn’t know how to tell him. The wyrm had taken its offering, its sacrifice. Their passage was assured.

Her throat was bleeding, and she was screaming as he lifted her thrashing form onto his shoulders and raced across the shattering surface. The rope dangled around his waist, cut from the others who were far ahead.

She did not remember how long it took them to get off the ice, only that her gaze was locked behind, on the bobbing ice and black rippling water that had taken her world from her.

On the shore, Kaelen heaved her into a snow drift before collapsing to his knees and retching from the exertion. The Fey’ri struggled to her feet, eyes still locked on the lake. Gasping, Kaelen pointed.

“Grab her.”

“No,” Alenyah shouted as she lunged. Foxran’s massive arms closed around her from behind, a living wall sweeping her up as though she weighed nothing. She kicked, struck, choked on fury and grief, but he only held tighter, murmuring low in his chest. Berin rushed in, looping his arms around her front, anchoring her between them.

Their humming rose. Foxran’s deep bass, Berin’s trembling tenor. They rocked with her, trying to steady the shaking, to slow the sobs clawing their way out of her. Their Songs vibrated through her bones, familiar, comforting.

And unbearable.

The music soothed the sharpest edge of her pain, even as it fanned the embers of her rage.

How dare the world still sing when hers had gone silent?

How dare any voice rise when the last Fylgja of her people had been dragged beneath the ice?

Alenyah buried her face against Berin’s shoulder, shaking with grief so large it didn’t fit inside her body.

She never wanted to hear a Song again.

But time did not allow for mourning. For safety, they had to keep moving. Now across the lake, Foxran rounded up the horses, who this time had not fled far. As each began to mount, Alenyah’s eyes deadened.

Bumpkin and Pumpkin could not carry her. The Stoneborn were already so heavy with their muscled frames. Numb, she squared her shoulders and prepared to walk. Although, her gaze drifted back to the mirrorlike surface. The cracks refroze, returning the water to an unblemished mirror, erasing how the world had just ceased being worth saving. She wanted to be under the ice, sleeping with Valka.

Before her thoughts could turn down the possibilities of that future, Kaelen mounted. He pulled his large roan alongside her. The silver in his skin glimmered in the dark, and he leaned to her. His hand extended, and she saw everyone was mounted and waiting. For her.

She didn’t even realize she had placed her small boned hand in his till he was lifting her again. This Stoneborn always seems to be carrying me, she thought distantly as he pulled her easily onto the saddle in front of him. Alenyah was suddenly so tired that she did not argue, did not fight. She slumped back against his chest, tipping her head backwards to stare at the sky.

Kaelen adjusted her legs to rest comfortably along his. One arm slipped around her waist, automatic and protective, while the other gathered the reins in a fist. When she looked up, she caught the strain in his jaw, the flicker of his gaze as he checked her face. She couldn’t find the energy within her to feel embarrassed or evaluate any sort of heated feelings for him. His mouth tightened not in frustration, but in sorrow. Understanding. Without a word, he loosened his hold just enough to cradle her face between his hands. His thumbs brushed away the frozen tracks on her cheeks, gentle as the snow began to fall.

Then, he pressed her more tightly against him. His heart was slamming against his ribs, she thought. He turned the horse toward the looming ridges of Ashfall Pass. The others followed in somber silence, their Songs held respectfully quiet. Snow drifted down in soft, patient sheets as they rode toward the single lantern glow waiting at the base of the mountains.

And behind them, the Lake of Glass shone perfect and unchanged.

As if nothing had been lost at all.

Kaelen gently shook her to consciousness. She wasn’t sure if she had fainted from pain or from the exhaustion of her loss. Her eyes drifted open to see in front of them stood a large multi-levelled wooden building. Sat incongruously at the base of a mountain path that arched sharply up into the rocks and around a stony bend, a single torch illuminated the front wraparound porch. A great brick chimney in the back billowed smoke, and the only light from windows was in a single corner of the lowest level.

Wooden stables connected to the left side of the building, hugging where the first slope of the mountain rose sharply. Kaelen coughed in the darkness, arms tightening around her waist. He jerked his chin from Seth to the front door of the building, communicating silently.

Seth slipped off his black horse and stealthed into the dark around the side of the house, a whisper of shadow. As he did so, Tavren and Foxran spread out in a practiced manoeuvre, guiding Berin and Althea behind Kaelen, eyes on the cliffs and hidden crags around them.

Searching for hollow men, Alenyah guessed unconcerned. She didn’t really care what happened now. Let the Wyrm take them all. It would be so much easier, maybe even gentler and kinder than this struggle in a world that wanted everything from her. A Singer was not meant to live for herself, but she had so few pieces of her soul left.

Seth returned a few moments later, signalling to Kaelen. Reassured, Kaelen held her in place as he dismounted first.

She barely managed to swing her leg over before her body sagged into him. She didn’t even try to hold herself up. She let him take her weight, let him command the movement. His broad palm pressed flat against her abdomen, keeping her tucked close to his side.

“There’s only one inside,” he said quietly, scanning the lodge with a soldier’s caution. “Tavren and Foxran will go in first.”

Alenyah lifted her eyes toward him, but nothing stirred to meet his gaze. She saw the moment concern cracked through his composure. The lines around his amber eyes tightened; his hand on her waist did too.

“If it’s safe, we’ll get some rest,” he told her, tone low, as if gentling a skittish creature. Then, almost hesitantly, his head dipped closer, so close she could feel the heat of him against the cold settling over her skin. “And talk.”

Nothing. Her face remained hollow.

He cursed under his breath and caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Nod if you understand, Alenyah.”

A shiver trembled through her, more from despair than cold, and she gave the smallest, barest nod. It was enough to ease something in him and ignite something else.

He was angry. She could feel it in the tension of his stance, in the pulse thrumming beneath the silver lines of his skin. He hid it well, but she knew the truth:

Kaelen Stoneborn was a man built for war.

And tonight, he wanted to break something.

“What is this place?” Althea began to ask, but Berin shushed her quickly.

Foxran strode to the door, and Tavren took a place to the side, bow and arrow notched. Seth slunk around the back like an alley cat. Foxran, arms slightly spread, mounted the steps to the wooden porch, which groaned under the unexpected burden. He rapped smartly on the door and stepped back, coiled with tension.

A single agonizing minute passed. Then, the door swung open. The shadow of a small woman, silhouetted by the roaring fire behind her. She had a crossbow loaded in her hands, pointed shrewdly at Foxran.

He raised his obsidian veined hands, legs bent.

A soft voice called into the darkness.

“Can I help you?”

“We crossed the Lake,” Foxran began. Her hands tightened around the trigger, making his tense even more.

“I can see that.” She said dryly. She peered around him. “Who are these unmentionables?”

“We are travelers,” he answered diplomatically. When he spoke the crossbow drifted upwards towards his face. “We are seeking refuge from the cold for a few days, maybe a resupply. We can pay you.”

“I don’t need money.” The door was starting to close, and he shoved his foot into the doorjamb, hands still upraised.

“It doesn’t have to be money,” His voice raised.

“I could just shoot you and take what I need.”

His control snapped. Foxran snarled, “If you shoot me, you’d better make it count. You’ve only got one shot.”

The woman hesitated, and he loomed forward. “Do it, lady. My friends are freezing out here. Let’s get this over with!”

But she stepped back, face inscrutable. Her gaze looked at the two shivering Rhea, at the Fey’ri crumpled against the massive silvered Stoneborn.

Whatever she saw shifted some mercy inside of her, and she opened the door wider.

“Well, I suppose you’d better come inside, and we’ll discuss payment. You can put your horses in the stables. There isn’t much hay, but it’s better than being out in this Maker forsaken cold.”

She strode confidently away, leaving the door open to the elements. Foxran’s breath whooshed out. It felt too easy. His eyes scanned the room, and seeing nothing, signalled with a wave of his fist.

“Tavren, Berin, see to the horses.” Kaelen ordered. “Then bring your supplies. It looks like we’ll be needing your expertise again.” He swung Alenyah into his arms for the second time that night, the third since their meeting and carried her into the warmth. Althea followed, pulling the door to behind them.