Smoke and Rain (34 page)

He lowered his book, finger tucked between the pages. “Good afternoon.” His expression was open and warm, but honest.

She knotted her cloak in her bandaged hands. She was not ready for this. “Hello.”

His pale brows arched, “Come sit?”

She jerked a nod and stepped carefully up to the bench. She perched on the edge, her muscles as tight as if still at war. “What day is it?”

“The 32nd of Llume. Bren’s here too, though many of the others stayed behind.”

“When will you go back?”

“Back?” His face softened. “You mean to Vielrona.” He sat up, fixing her with a stare. “When this is all over, perhaps. Until then, I’m wherever you need me to be. I can only imagine what feelings are going through your heart, but guilt should not be among them. If you think I want my duty to you to end because—” He swallowed hard “—because I swore until death and that was achieved, you’re wrong. I’ll protect you and your people as long as there is breath in my body, no matter how long I may have gone without it.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “That’s what a vow is to me.”

She smiled, still afraid to break the fragile shell around her mind. “Budge over?” She sat beside his feet and propped her own up next to him. “How many people do you think we could fit on this bench?”

He laughed and picked up his book again.

She tilted her face up to the sun. “What are you reading?”

“Me? A lowly common lad? I just look at the pictures.”

Alea noted that the book had no images on those pages.

“It’s a history of Claimiirn.”

She smiled. “If I remembered your humor, I would have considered making you wait longer before waking you up.”

A shadow crossed his eyes. “It felt like eternity, you know.”

Alea shivered a chill away. “Where’s Claimiirn?” The time would come for questions and curiosity, but she was not strong enough for them yet.

“It’s Athrolan’s mother city. It was the capital, but fell to an Ageless invasion.” Arman laid his book open on his chest to keep the page and rested a hand on her ankle. “The queen asked if I wanted an honorary title in the army."

“What did you say?”

“I respectfully declined. I am taking the surname of Arrowlash, though. He’s the Rakos from whom my ancestors are descended. I thought it fitting and I’m not who I was months ago.”

“If not for me you would have been.”

“You’ve not done me any disservice. I would have missed the adventures, the excitement. I’d have missed the people and even the finery here.” He squeezed her ankle. "I would have missed you.”

“I think I’ll go to Le’yan soon.”

“You won't take me with you." The words were too certain for a question.

“I’ll return.” She stared out at the gardens as he returned to his book. The trees were leafed in brilliant green and blossoms peeked from vines. She did not see them. Instead she saw a shadow creeping into her thoughts. It hovered on the edge, but she felt it grow.

Φ

The 35th Day of Llume, 1252

The letter had been specific, if brief. Alea turned down the alley, her brow furrowing as she stepped over a dead animal. This was not the meeting she had imagined. The inn indicated on the crumpled parchment was in the worst district Alea had yet seen. Perched above the naval yards, the narrow houses were poorly lit. The great arching aqueducts cut through them, shadowing the streets.

The road turned sharply and spilled into a dim square. Alea glanced up at the sign creaking in the spring breeze—
The Wise Hare.
The music and laughter within seemed honest enough and Alea pushed through the door. It was a small, dark tavern, but warm. The rich smell of bread and meat covered stale alcohol. She scanned the room for a quiet table, finally finding one nestled in the opposite corner. Her clothes were fine enough to make a statement, but so was the sharp dagger at her belt.

It was several minutes before the door opened again. Alea glanced up from dipping a piece of beef into the small bowl of sauce. Her hand froze and she stared at the woman in the doorway. She had never known her mother, and it was ridiculous to think she recognized the woman. Still, the dark hair and the violence of her features were unmistakable.

A month ago I would have run to her, yelled at her perhaps. Maybe even wept.
Alea stayed seated, waiting for the silver eyes to finally rest on her. When they did, Alea nodded once.

The woman approached. Her eyes were lit with excitement and fear, nested in tired lines. “I worried you wouldn’t come. My name is Elle.”

“I almost didn’t.” Alea pushed the tray of grilled meat into the center of the table. “Help yourself, there’s enough for two.”

“You know who I am, then?”

“I know what you are. Who you are was plain in your letter.” Alea wanted to be excited to finally meet the woman who had birthed her. A fragile shell still protected her mind, however, and mostly Alea just felt numb. “How long have you been here?”

“We arrived just after you left for Fort Shadow. An’thoriend has gone east to gain more intelligence. I had hoped you would bring your brother.”

“He left for Mirik two days ago.” Alea examined Elle’s blade-sharp nose and large eyes.

“Did they find Azirik?”

“The city was deserted, everything torn apart. The Miriken had no intention of returning. The Athrolani will raid the city for anything to give us the advantage. Bren thinks he can help with that.”

“And you? Will you stay here?” Elle dipped her meat deftly, clearly familiar with Athrolan’s disuse of utensils.

Alea shook her head. She found herself suddenly unable to meet the woman’s eyes. “I can’t stay here.” Her voice caught on the words. “Neither Athrolan nor I could deal with that.”

“Where will you go, then?”             

Le’yan had been her destination since discovering what she was.
So why does it feel like I’m running?
She finally looked up. Her eyes were more gray than blue. “I think it’s time I go with you. I’m ready to learn control. I’m ready to learn what I am.”

“Le’yan it is.” Elle’s smile did not quite reach her eyes. Decisions that broke the soul were not meant to be accompanied by mirth. She slid her hand across the table. It did not touch Alea’s, but simply rested beside it. They were both worn and cracked from a life turned difficult too quickly.

In her lap, Alea’s other hand clenched into a fist. She did not want to face the souls she had left scarred and bleeding. There was very little she had left, and none of it could go with her. “Can you leave tomorrow?”

“Whenever you are ready.”

“Then meet me at dawn. Waiting will help nothing.” Alea left without another word, shrugging into her cloak despite the balmy night air. The tattered threads of her mind had barely begun to weave themselves back into something that resembled sanity. Whatever she had yet to learn would push those threads farther. She wondered if they would hold. The shadow encroaching her thoughts darkened and the image of the bleeding souls flashed through her mind.

Alea decided there were two darknesses that filled a person’s mind. The first came when her family died. Watching them scream and beg broke her. It filled her with despair and bitterness. It made her angry. That anger fueled her resolve. It bled determination into her limbs and gave her the will to live. It gave her something to hate.

There were laws in the world that were unbreakable. They were mountains’ peaks, the sweeping wind off the desert. They were mighty things. The second darkness rooted when one broke those laws. It was a slow, creeping darkness, like thunderheads on the horizon of a summer day. She wondered if Azirik’s mind was shadowed like hers was now. She could ignore it. Still, it rattled around her mind like dead leaves heralding the bleak chill of winter.
I’m a monster.

SNEAK PEEK OF THE SECOND BOOK IN THE REFORGED SERIES:

LIGHTNING AND FLAMES

The 36th Day of Lleume, 1252

The City of Ceir Athrolan

THE WIND OFF THE OCEAN bit at Alea’s cheeks with salty teeth. She smiled, not minding the cold. It was a lover’s bite, nothing more. She preferred the hour just before dawn. The city below barely stirred. It was as if she were the only woman in the world. It should not have been a comforting thought. She leaned on the palace parapet. Below a runner was bringing her letter to the queen, to her guard. She hated goodbye, hated explaining herself.
The Dhoah’ Laen shouldn’t have to explain herself so often.

“You thought you could sneak away without me knowing?” Arman’s voice was low, the hint of a smile blunting the accusation.

“Not really. I thought I might try, though.” She brushed a strand of black hair away from her face. “I leave today. In an hour.”

“So you said.” The blond man leaned on the wall beside her. “Are you nervous?”

Nervous was such a simple word. Emotions were not simple things. Yes, she was nervous. She was terrified. The shadow crouching in the back of her mind was excited. “A bit. I’m not certain how to feel. Elle’s my mother, but I have no memory of her. I’m excited too. Learning to control this thing will be good. Hopefully I’ll learn more about myself as well.””

“And what then? Will you be full Laen? Cold? Austere? Proud?”

She looked over incredulously. It did not matter that she knew he was afraid, that she could see the tremble in his hands. “You’re scared I’ll be different? What if I want to be?”

“You act as if you’re alone in this battle. All the Laen do. You never share your plans, You’re
not
alone. You
never
will be.” He dug his fingers into the rough, weathered stone. “Fates forbid you actually tell me anything.”

“You’ve been a part of this journey since the beginning.”

“But have I known any detail until I absolutely had to? Did I know you were going to battle before you announced it to the queen? Did I know you were hurting before you got drunk?” He shook his head. “Damn, I didn’t know you would draw my daggers in Fort Shadow until it was too late.”

She closed her eyes. She was tired. Sleep could not banish the deep, aching fatigue that weighed on her mind. She was too exhausted to deal with one of Arman’s tempers. “Perhaps if you assumed I was a person, those decisions wouldn’t have surprised you.”

“How can I protect you when I’m ignorant? Your refusal to explain anything cost me my life!”

She drew back as if he’d slapped her. This was why she hated good-byes. Everything left unsaid bubbled to the surface, jumbled and painful. “What?”

“You disarmed me in the middle of battle.”

“And you have no idea what I paid to bring you back. You may have been there, you may remember it, but you will never understand the cost.” Her words were low, almost a curse, almost a sob. She shoved away from the parapet. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone—a week, a month, a year. However long it is, I hope to fate I do change. And I hope when I come back I’m everything they need me to be.” She hunched her shoulders as she trotted down the staircase.
The wind howled through the series of open windows. It was still a lover’s touch, but this time it stung with anger.

Look for
Lightning and Flames
summer of 2016 from Amphibian press

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

V.S. HOLMES lives with her artist partner in a Tiny House (yes, like the FYI television show) and owns far too many books for such a small abode. Her favorite genres include fantasy, science (of both the non-fiction and fiction varieties), and most anything else she finds in her hands.

Holmes graduated from Keene State College with a Bachelor's of Science in Biology. She has a particular interest in prehistoric peoples and stone tools. When not writing, she works as a contract archaeologist doing Cultural Resource Management throughout the northeastern U.S.