Page 79 of Blood Fist
Brune shivered. He preferred deer.
That night, they made camp out in the open. With no shelter nearby, they had to hope the weather would continue to hold. Peppercorn and Boulder seemed to prefer it, happily cropping at the last of the season’s wild grasses.
They built a large fire, and the night was temperate. Brune wanted to bemoan the lack of body heat as an excuse, but Ridan seemed oddly contemplative. He was lying on his back, arms crossed over his chest, as he looked up at the night sky.
Brune knew this was the same sky he had always lived under, yet it felt different. Even from the sky above theStone Blade. It was massive and clear. He felt as if he blinked too often the sky would absorb him, the ground and grasses would disappear, and he would be floating among pinpricks of light. They looked not unlike a fire pit from a distance, a tiny sparkling point in a sea of darkness.
He couldn’t see the stars in Kaldonea. Between the high walls and the buildings, it was nearly impossible to catch more than a sliver of sky. Even the sun didn’t penetrate to the dim street.
Maybe if he could have seen the sky from the streets, he would have thought more about the wider world. Wondered what those stars were, and how they seemed to be alive. Moving from one night to the next. It was almost as if the stars were like the Clansmen ancestors of old, nomads moving in the bright light of day. Constantly searching for something better.
“What are they?” Brune marveled, his eyes nearly burning with the strain of trying to pick out a single detail. Something that would give him the answers he wanted.
Ridan shifted a little and remained silent for so long, Brune thought he wouldn’t answer.
Finally, he inhaled. “My father used to say that if we had the answer to every mystery, we’d stop looking for things to amaze us.”
Brune found himself, not for the first time, wishing he could have met Corenus. “I think I would have liked your dad.”
“You remind me of him.”
Surprised, Brune turned his head to look at Ridan. “Smart? Strong? Handsome? Brave? Incredible? Indecriba?—”
Ridan smacked him with a small smile. “No, just…comfortable with himself. He never questioned if what hewas doing was right or wrong. He just did it.” He didn’t look over at Brune, but he still felt seen. “You’re like that.”
He studied Ridan’s profile. With the fire light on one side of his face and the rest obscured by the night, he reminded him of the dawn. Like an inevitable war between day and night, each winning once, only to lose in the second battle of the day. Ridan was constantly at war—with himself, with his expectations, with the clan. Round and round, every dawn he fought the battle, only to find himself staring at another battle at dusk.
More than anything—even more than his overflowing garden—Brune wished he could fight those battles with him. Shield him from attacks, strike blows beside him, and then hold him close when the battle was over. Brush the hair from his bloody face and tell him it was all right, that he could rest for a moment. He would keep watch.
Ridan’s father must have felt the same way. He watched his mate lead the clan, and if the man was anything as described, he would not have hesitated to do what he could for her.
“Maybehedidn’t have to wonder,” Brune said finally, quieter than the fire crackling beside him. Ridan looked at him, flames caught in his eyes.
“He never had to wonder if what he was doing was right or wrong, because he had everything he ever wanted right in front of him.”
On the fourth day, the feather changed directions.
It wasn’t subtle. One moment the feather was straining at its bonds, facing the same direction it had been from the beginning, and the next it jerked withsuch force it nearly pulled Brune from Boulder’s back. He caught himself looking over his shoulder at Ridan with a big grin.
The feather took them west until they left the plains behind and began ascending a small series of hills. The hills turned to rocks, and the rocks turned to massive slabs of granite. Eventually, the rocks grew too numerous, and they had to dismount. They found some outcropping of rock that would provide shade for the horses and tied them there.
With the feathers lead wrapped around his wrist, they continued through what turned out to be a large ravine. Ages ago, water must have run through here, cutting through the hard earth until Ridan and Brune were standing at the base of two massive walls of granite. They reminded Brune of the walls at Kaldonea. But instead of the flat monotone grey, the granite was pockmarked with colors. There was a particular vein of a soft white rock that seemed to sparkle in the sun.
Brune was busy picking at it when Ridan hissed at him. “Look.”
The feather was pointing straight up the eastern wall. It wasn’t tugging anymore, just quivering in midair. Following its pointed tip, Brune could see what looked like a cave opening halfway up the wall.
“That doesn’t look much like an evil magician's lair,” Brune mused, reining in the feather so he could tuck it into his belt.
“Oh? And whatexactlydoes an evil lair look like?”
He paused. “Less granite?”
With a huff, Ridan walked closer to the wall to slip off his cloak. He began removing anything he didn’t think he’d need, piling his supplies neatly. Brune joined him. Unfortunately, his heaviest gear was the most important. The Maladon’s Aegis had grown to be asecond limb, and he wouldn’t undertake any kind of risk without it.
Securing his hammer with a leather strap on his belt, he looked up to judge the climb.
Lucky for them, there appeared to be plenty of holds on the nearly sheer cliff face. Still, the opening of the cave was high. Higher than Brune was comfortable climbing.