Page 58

W e found our horses stashed in a thicket near a small creek.

I wrapped my arms around Anam’s neck and squeezed tight, breathing in the warm, dusty, living scent of him.

A brief reunion, and then we made our rapid preparations to flee.

El dug an extra pair of pants from her saddlebag for me and I pulled them on –– the long ride without them would have had my bum chafed raw by the time we got home.

I also pulled on a pair of her thick wool socks; my feet burned and stung with a thousand tiny cuts and thorns from my barefoot race through the forest.

We rode hard, keeping off the main road.

I felt dazed and foggy. It had all happened so fast, and I was so, so bone-wearingly tired.

I could hardly keep up, barely form coherent thoughts.

I had taken each thing as it came, focusing solely on survival, on completing each task as I needed to.

But relief gradually flooded me with each breath of forest air, each flash of dappled sunlight through the trees.

The wind in my hair, the rhythm of Anam, my friend, running beneath me.

We broke into a large field, and my companions skirted it, moving between patches of trees at the edges.

But I couldn’t resist the feeling of the sun on my skin.

The open land beckoned me, the rolling grass luminous in the morning light.

I guided Anam into the field and pushed him into a harder gallop.

He took the invitation immediately, tossing his head and leaning into a charge.

I stood in the stirrups and leaned forward, gripping with my feet in thick socks, my hair whipping back behind me.

An unintentional laugh tore from my throat, then another.

Tears began to slide down my face, blown back across my cheeks and into my hair with the wind, but they were more from the emotion that rose in my chest than from the bite of the cold morning air.

I let the reins drop from my grip and Anam pressed into a full sprint as I raised my arms out to my sides, gliding on makeshift wings. Tears flowed. I laughed again.

I caught a glimpse of my companions following me.

First El breaking into the meadow, a bright ball of flame on her white steed, and Byrgir behind her, slower on his imposing black mare Eira.

Crow stuck to the trees, shadowing us from safety.

I thought I heard El and Byrgir laugh, but I could not be sure over the pounding of hooves.

Eventually, the trees closed around us and we came back into the cloaking shadow of the forest, slowing our ride.

Relief soon mixed with regret as I thought of Eilith. I didn’t ask if a rescue attempt had been made for her. Didn’t know if I could handle the guilt if they hadn’t tried. Yet Byrgir must have read my mind.

“There was another crew that went in after Eilith, you know,” he said, trotting up alongside me.

“To retrieve her from her cell? That place is a labyrinth to infiltrate,” I said.

“It was,” Crow added. “But I’ve had someone on the inside for weeks now. Brave young Ranger posing as an anchorite. She was meant to let the crew in and lead them to Eilith when we broke in the front door.”

“Did they get her?” I asked.

Crow was quiet for a long time. I felt a pulse of magic emanate from him, then another a moment later. I was detecting his messaging spells, although I could not decode their meanings. Then the air was still around us once more, and we rode in silence until Crow at last broke it.

“I’m sorry, Halja, they… they weren’t successful. Two members of the crew were killed, including my inside Ranger.” Crow spoke with his eyes lowered.

“Did they kill Eilith?” I asked as my chest began to ache and a lump formed in my throat.

“Last the escaping Rangers saw, she was alive.”

“They’ll kill her for this though. For me. Zisorah told me she would if I didn’t comply. Said if I made any attempt to escape, she’d make an example out of me and Eilith.”

Silence fell over the group, and we rode on.

We traveled late into the night, pausing only for quick, cold meals. The sun disappeared below the horizon, bathing the skyline in blood-red and sinking the forest and mountains into a lavender twilight that deepened into true night.

Still we rode. I began to nod off in the saddle, and by the early hours of the morning, my body ached with the protest of muscles left dormant for too long and suddenly resurrected.

My knee was stiff and painful after my leap from the city wall.

The horses dragged their feet. By the time we finally stopped for a rest, I nearly fell from my mount.

I hadn’t ridden in months. My muscles had atrophied and my body had withered.

I barely recognized myself beneath Byrgir’s large shirt.

Crow, El, and the wolves kept watch as I curled up in Byrgir’s lap.

“You know, we haven’t seen them since you were taken.” He nodded toward the wolves. “They followed you after the battle, right after a healer took care of Vardir’s wounds. We found them in the woods near Avanis when we were scouting the terrain, planning our attack.”

“Zisorah told me there had been attacks in the forest. Said the locals were whispering of werewolves.”

“Must have been those two trying to find you,” Byrgir said.

He leaned back against a large tree and stroked my hair as I drifted into sleep. Deep, heavy, delightfully quiet slumber. The dreamless sleep of the dead. Safe at last.

∞∞∞

Byrgir roused me gently, but far too soon. El handed me a hot mug of tea and bowl of porridge as I sat up. I was groggy, and my head pounded, but I was grateful once again for her fire magic. A warm breakfast without smoke and flames.

We climbed into our saddles and soon rode into familiar mountains.

And I felt it. Felt the tug of the Arcaena River deep in the distant rock above us, before it even reached the surface.

Sensed the great, slumbering giants of trees cloaked in mist in that hidden valley.

Tasted the salt spray from the sheltered shore.

We reached the final mountain saddle above Rhyanaes and there it was, dressed in the deep, warm browns, reds, and oranges of fall.

Alpine meadows of red heather and crowberry danced in the breeze around us, dotting the slopes with chromatic splashes of deep crimson.

The sun sparkled off distant ocean waves in the fjord.

The dark towers of ancient trees loomed steadfast and welcoming in their deep, lively green.

Through it all, the Arcaena River glittered in the rare fall sun, luminescent and magic, as if made from jumbled sapphires and emeralds tumbling down high mountain stones.

I put my hand to my mouth and tried to stifle a sob, but failed.

I gazed down into the valley, at that sacred, blessed city, and wept.

I wept for everything I had left behind, everything I had missed.

I wept for Eilith, alone and cold in that barren, lifeless cell.

I wept for El and Crow, and the stressful, sleepless nights they had spent planning my rescue.

I wept for Byrgir, for how my heart had broken as he screamed for me when we were separated that night, and how it had broken every day since.

For the pain I had heard in his voice, seen in his eyes when he looked at me.

How I had longed for him with an ache that cracked my bones, split my very being.

And I wept for myself. I wept for the woman I had been when they’d taken me.

Wept for the woman I had become since. Wept for the woman that died in that cell.

The innocence, peace, and compassion I was terrified I may never get back.

All the times I thought I would not survive it.

All the times I thought I would never see this sight again.

But I had survived it. I was here, really here, standing on this mountainside, looking down at my home.

Byrgir pulled me down from my saddle with gentle insistence and held me in the golden sunlight, cradling me while I cried great, heaving sobs. I looked up to see tears glinting on his cheeks too. El sniffled behind us, and I glanced around Byrgir to see her wiping her eyes.

“Oh, come here,” she said and walked to us, arms wide. She grabbed us both in a tight embrace. “Come on, Crow, you too.” She waved him over.

“Somebody has to stay on watch,” Crow argued.

“Now, Crow!” El demanded, and he yielded to her commanding tone.

I chuckled through my tears, tucked under Byrgir’s shoulder and held tightly by El.

Crow joined us in what I’m sure was one of the strangest spectacles this mountainside had seen in many years.

Two fae women and two human men, sniffling in the chilly autumn sun.

As they held me tight, the sobbing subsided. The deep, wracking, heaving breaths mellowed, and my tears stopped. We broke apart and stood looking into the brilliance of the valley, arms still around one another. Byrgir pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

A feast awaited us in El’s home. Our home.

A medley of delectable smells met us at the door –– the cook had been busy in anticipation of our return.

Roasted vegetables with fennel seeds and garlic, potatoes with rosemary, warm loaves of hot dark rye bread, garden greens, pan-seared salmon, wild asparagus roasted with more garlic, thick venison steaks, red wine, and mead.

I was overwhelmed. I had eaten little more than porridge and bread these last months.

I ate too much too quickly and had to pace myself.

It was odd, thinking of them preparing for this, planning something as ordinary as dinner for my arrival, as if they were just waiting for me to return from a long trip away.

Strange to think of them living their lives in this house while I was in what had felt like another world entirely. It felt surreal to be back.