Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (24 page)

“Darius!” Arden gasped. “That’s hardly—”

He chuckled. “It was a joke, asahana. I’d never suggest such a thing to him.”

Ehlren grumbled over his ale and bread, waving his roasted leg of grabnar. “You know he’d likely try that, so best not even joke about it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But anyway, what of the Gordian weapons, Arden? I haven’t heard about anything you learned yesterday on that matter.”

She lit up like the sun at the mention of the topic, instantly gushing about the athenaeum and the hoard of knowledge stored within. “The scribe I spoke with, Argravian, was incredibly well-read on the subject, though more from a historical standpoint than actual creation of the weapons. I learned a great deal about Tyvus Gordia, one of your fellow proseika. His full name is actually Tyvus Morkevith Gordia, and he was responsible for the naming convention of all dwarf proseika after him. Did you know… well, of course you probably don’t, that he adopted his middle name after his exaltation? He was the first to do so, and all proseika after him have gotten one. You already had one of those when you were given the title, so it didn’t apply to you. You remember that mark I showed you on the dagger?”

He nodded, not about to interrupt her in full excitement.

“That’s his middle name, Morkevith, in written form. It means…” She looked at Ehlren. “Defender of life, correct?”

“Yes, but he was using that mark before he was exalted,” Ehlren said. “All of his known weapons, even the first ones in the preserved sketches, have it.”

Arden continued. “His apprentice survived the destruction of Dhagba and was able to save a few of Gordia’s writings, although the secret of the weapons’ creation was lost. What he knew, he passed on to his heirs, of which the smith Thrass Merdavin is one. If anyone would know more about Gordian weapons, it’s him.”

Grinning, he couldn’t help it at seeing her so animated. “Then I suggest we finish our meal quickly. I imagine you two will have plenty to talk about.”

Arden

Arden turned in a slow circle, basking in the fiery furnaces and heavy machinery of the foundry. Everywhere she looked, a new piece of equipment or the glow of molten metal pulled at her, begging her attention. Massive rails overhead continuously fed the gaping maw of the smelter, the loud grind of gears and clank of chains as they swayed with mechanical movement filling the entirety of the space. Bucket after bucket, each large enough to hold a horse, drifted by overhead, dumping loads of raw ore into a crucible so large she couldn’t see the whole of it. To be in such a place as it ran in the full throes of production, her heart sang to be amongst such wonders. Her family’s factories were nothing in comparison to the incredible scale of the dwarven process.

“Thrass should be all the way in the back,” Ehlren said. “That’s where he tinkers. It’s a shack he calls a laboratory.”

Vibrating in time with the conveyer above, she grabbed Darius by the hand and pulled him along after Ehlren. She knew he didn’t have the same fascination as she did, but having him with her made it all the better.

Tucked into the far corner of the foundry, a long wooden building leaned precariously against the stone walls. Part of her worried knocking on the flimsy door might take the whole place down, but Ehlren had no such qualms and pounded on it loud enough to be heard over the noise around them. After a few moments, it opened, revealing a hunched old dwarf squinting at them through goggles the exact same as she wore from time to time.

“What is it?” he said, his words clipped. “I’m very busy.”

“Master Thrass, the yar’s guests would like to speak with you.” Ehlren’s tone did not give the impression it was a request, and she frowned.

“Guests? Guests? No. I haven’t time for guests.” His long, thin fingers, completely unlike most dwarves’ hands, shooed them off. “Go bother one of the other smiths for a tour.”

Ehlren’s face soured, and Darius started to step forward, but Arden cut him off, placing herself between Ehlren and Thrass before tempers ruined her chances for getting more information.

“It isn’t a tour we’re looking for. We’d never bother you with such a triviality.” She reached behind her, under her coat, freeing the dagger from the sheath she acquired the day before. “I have questions about this, and you’re the only one who can answer them.”

The Gordian dagger gleamed orange in the light of the foundry as she held it out to him. His bushy white eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Where did you come by this, child?”

She offered it to him to examine. “It was an engagement gift from your yar, and one I dearly treasure. Would you do me the honor of speaking with me, descendant of Guain?”

His gaze lifted from the dagger to meet hers. “Who are you to have been given this?”

“My name is Arden. Newly bound to Darius Marillion, King of Valentia, proseika to the people of Ogtern Mountain.”

“Ah,” he rubbed at the sparse hairs on his chin. “I’ve heard of you, Light of Valentia. Your work in Aerenhall was quite impressive for a human.”

She blinked at him several times, confused. “You know about that? But how…”

Thrass opened the door fully and bid them to enter. “One of the swords from Aerenhall made its way here after the war. I made some enquiries. Your blacksmith was quite happy to tell me about you in his letters.”

Beyond stunned, she wasn’t sure how to take a compliment from such a skilled craftsman. “I only work out the process, Master Thrass. The power at the forge is not mine.”

He grimaced. “Then you sell yourself short. But never mind that.” He pointed the dagger at her, circling it about as though it were a wand. “What is it you’ve come to ask?”

She pulled a small book of parchment from her coat pocket and thumbed through the first few pages. “I was curious to see if any progress has been made in recreating this type of metal with similar properties. I’ve decided to run tests of my own on some shards I acquired, but I don’t want to repeats things you’ve already tried if you’re willing to share knowledge with me.” Stopping on a page with lists of chemical solutions, she stepped up to show him. “Some of these would give me a better idea of the composition, but I wasn’t going to use them on the intact weapon due to the corrosive nature. Now that I have the shards, I can start in earnest.”

As he read over her list, Thrass shuffled around the long workbench, wandering all the way to the far end that was piled with journals and stacks of loose parchment of every shape and size. While he dug through his papers, she marveled at all the shelves of tools and beakers of bubbling concoctions. Every surface was crowded with bits of metal or small weapons, all banged up or cut into or disassembled entirely.

“Here we are.” He held up a sheaf of papers. “We can look through these and I can tell you results. Most of what you’ve got there I’ve already done, though there are a few items on your list I’m unsure of. What’s Hiriam’s Number Seven?”

“An elvish acid derived from plant materials. Hiriam is a trader that passes through Aerenhall a few times a year, and I always find something of interest. The number seven concoction is highly reactive to certain types of calcium crystals and a few other things. The color of the sparks indicate the mineral present.”

Thrass frowned. “Elvish brews. Of course. Those are hard to come by down here thanks to politics and prejudices. I’d be done with the lot of them if I weren’t so old. And what about this one? This Yudaraway reduction.”

“Oh, that one’s brilliant. It’s—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Darius said, resting a hand on her arm. She’d forgotten he and the others were there at all, “but I get the feeling this is going to take a while and make very little sense to us mere mortals. Would it be all right if we commandeered your table and chairs near the entrance?”

Thrass waved him away. “Do what you will, but don’t touch anything. Now, you were saying?”

She chuckled a little, feeling sorry she dragged the others into it. “One moment, please.” Ushering Darius back to where Ehlren and Vennic waited, she tried to apologize. “This is likely going to be very dull for you. You don’t have to stay on my account.”

“I may have cards and dice with me,” he said with a grin. “I came prepared. Take all the time you need, asahana.”

Grateful, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you. For everything today. I can’t tell you what this opportunity means to me.”

“I think I have a general idea.” He winked. “Best get back to it.”

No further encouragement needed, she hurried back to Master Thrass. With no notion of when she might get another chance to speak with someone who understood her metallurgic ramblings and with so much knowledge she could learn from, it was all she could do not to run.

Chapter 24

Darius

Dozing in the chair, a nudge from Vennic prompted Darius awake. He pointed towards the workbench Arden had been hunched over for hours, pouring over documents from Thrass. The old dwarf was down at the far end of the laboratory, endlessly scribbling notes. Arden, however, was snoring softly, resting on top of her arm, pencil loosely held with her other hand.

“I think you’re right,” Darius said quietly. “She won’t be happy about it, but it’s near three already.”

As Vennic roused Ehlren, who passed out hours ago, courtesy of the flasks he brought back when he went out for food, Darius set a hand on Arden’s back and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Wake up, asahana. It’s time to go.”

She sat up with a start, nearly knocking him in the head. “What? Was I sleeping? But I’m not finished. I still have so much to—”

Brushing away the hair stuck to her lip, he smiled at her. “You need to rest. Maybe come back again later?”

She sighed and looked at her work, sad to leave it. “I suppose you’re right. I just wish I had more time. I suppose I can always write to him, but to have so much at my fingertips now…”

“Packing it up for the night?” Thrass joined them at the workbench. “Yes, likely a good idea. Though, I will say you’ve shown more dedication to this pursuit than I’ve seen from anyone in a long time. I’d try to convince you to stay on, but…” He glanced up at Darius with a knowing grin. “I imagine you have other duties pulling you away.”

“I really wanted to finish copying this section of the effects on Torn Ones,” Arden said. “Another page or three, and I’d have it all.”

“The lady is always welcome to join me after breakfast,” Thrass said. “We could make a full day of it.”

As happy as Arden looked at the prospect, he had to put a damper on it. “I’d love to agree to such a thing, but there’s a chance we may have to depart tomorrow. After investigating this illness, I wonder if perhaps there isn’t a cure somewhere outside the mines. The elves may have some insight on the affliction, and I’d like to speak with them about it as soon as possible.”

“We’re leaving already?” Arden looked stricken, but he understood her disappointment.

Darius nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, depending on how the yar feels about my findings and my course of action. I think he’ll want to see this taken care of quickly.”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious illness striking down our miners. It’s most serious,” Thrass said with a sad shake of his head. “After the afflicted showed signs of being poisoned by darkness, they attempted to drive it out by using Gordian weapons to make small cuts in their skin. It… didn’t end well.”

Frowning, he didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, it didn’t end well?”

Thrass shrugged. “The weapon they used did react to the illness, but on a very destructive scale. After a small, one-inch cut was made in the first subject’s skin, he bled out within a minute, as though his blood was trying to flee an attack. Messy business, that.”

The color drained from Arden’s face. “From such a small incision?”

“Aye. These weapons are more powerful than anyone suspects.”

“Then the elves may have something to offer in the way of a solution,” Darius said. “They’ve dealt with their share of dark magic. If the light magic of Gordian weapons is too much for this situation, perhaps they’ll know of something better.”

Thrass snorted. “It’s not magic, proseika. Dwarves do not wield that power, and never have. Science is the true strength of Gordian weapons, not some enchantment.”

Not wishing to argue philosophy with the smith, he simply smiled and waved the subject away. “I think that’s a discussion for another time. Thank you for seeing us today, Master Thrass.”

“It was truly my pleasure,” he replied, then turned to Arden. “You’re welcome here any time, child. Do write with your findings, and I’ll be sure to send you any news from my end in the future.”

Beaming with pride, she took his hand with a firm shake. “It was an honor to speak with you. I can’t thank you enough.”

Their farewells said, they collected Vennic and Ehlren and made their way home. As late as it was, there was little conversation outside of planning to convene again after a few hours of rest. Back in their room, he tended to the missives waiting for him as Arden changed for bed. By the time he was ready himself, she was long asleep. He watched her for a while, turning over his thoughts and feelings in rhythm with the rise and fall of her breathing. A large part of him wanted to wake her, as though searching her eyes might bring him the clarity he couldn’t find on his own. Everything was much less complicated inside her gaze. What she asked of him was so simple, so obvious, that it seemed easy to give. But on his own, doubts closed in and memories split his emotions in too many different directions.

Exhausted by it all, he gave it up for the night and eased in beside her. The warmth she radiated was more than enough to settle him into slumber.

Three hours later, he woke when he felt her slip away, the bed suddenly cold with her absence. Arden walked across the room to her dressing chamber, her steps so silent and smooth she could be taken for a ghost. Without closing the door, she gathered her clothes for the day and shrugged out of her nightdress, leaving him with a full view of her exposed backside. His breath caught in his throat. Every inch of her pale skin was pure perfection, save for a long, curved scar tracing her right hip, a slash of pink against her flesh. Where had that come from? Who would ever want to hurt Arden?

He watched her dress without saying a word, though he was sorely tempted to stop her. Desire rushed through his veins, but he had no care to bring her any embarrassment. After all, she hadn’t known he was watching. While he was certain she’d welcome his advances, neither of them had gotten much sleep, and there was much to do. Before she turned around, he closed his eyes again, curious to see how she’d choose to wake him.

The mattress sank under her weight as she sat beside him. Soft fingers combed through his hair as she leaned down to his ear.

“It’s time to get up, kendala,” she whispered. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, he let his eyelids blink open, looking up into those beautiful blue orbs of hers. They held a note of sadness in them, which he greatly disliked seeing.

“Good morning, asahana. Are you all right?”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach beyond the curve of her mouth. “Tired, but I’ll be fine. I thought we should get moving first thing.”

When she stood, he sat up and took her hand, stopping her retreat. She looked at him with curious uncertainty, but didn’t pull away.

“You can tell me anything, Arden. You seem shaken.”

She shook her head and extracted her hand. “Bad dreams is all, memories I try to put behind me. Don’t worry over it.”

He swung his legs out of bed, intent on finding the cause of her distress, but she was halfway out the door before he was on his feet. “I’m going for breakfast. Meet me when you’re ready.”

The door closed behind her, without so much as a pause to hear his reply. Really, he likely deserved her scorn for as often as he pushed her away. But her quick exit was the first time she ever flat out refused to confide in him, and it stung far more than he expected it to. He needed to do better—
be
better— for her.

After he dressed, Darius wandered out into the hall, headed for the dining room. Dwarven architecture always felt very confining and dark to him. He much preferred the light airy feel of Castle Dulaine, though he was most at home under the wide open sky. Trudging through the yellowish lighting of the ambassador’s house, he couldn’t imagine how Arden was so enamored by it, but, then again, rocks were her passion. If it was ever an option to do so, he imagined she’d leap at the chance to move their stronghold inside a mountain without a second thought. Not that she seemed unhappy on the surface, but while they’d been in Ogtern, she looked so much more alive than he’d ever seen her before.

The dining room was comprised of wood and granite from any angle you looked at it. Arden and Vennic were already deep in conversation, Vennic holding a folded piece of parchment in his left hand.

“Messages already this morning?” Darius yawned as he sat beside Arden. “And our host is absent again, I see.”

He handed over the missive. “Doma’s already off taking a meeting with the yar. He left this for you.”

Darius read over the short note with tired eyes. “He’s meeting with the yar until nine, and we’re to be there for an audience immediately following.” Tossing the paper aside, he dug into the eggs and sausage on his plate. “Best eat fast. That’s in less than an hour.”

The Varkomen was bustling with activity when they arrived, with messengers running past in every direction as they made their way to the reception room. Ehlren was already there waiting for them, looking as well-rested as Darius felt. The moment he opened his mouth to speak, the door opened and disgorged ten of the upper nobility, including Doma. They all hurried away, leaving them to their meeting with a very vexed yar.

“Damned fools,” he grumbled to himself as he shuffled papers away. “They never listen.”

Darius rapped his knuckle on the open door, and he looked up. “If this is a bad time…”

Yar Bronson motioned them in. “No, no, come in. How’s your visit been? Made any progress in your investigation?”

“Some, but I think to make any more, we’ll need to leave the city.”

“Leave? When the problem is here?”

They sat down around his desk, and Darius tried to explain. “The symptoms might be here, but I suspect the cause and solution are both elsewhere. Would you happen to have a map of where the mines run, as seen from above ground? A topographic one?”

He rubbed his chin, thinking on it. “Not in here, no, but there may be one at the athenaeum. I seem to recall there being surveys a few years back, just before the war. They keep a map and mark it with new tunnels when they’re dug, to avoid collapse from above. The planning committee is supposed to keep the filed maps up to date. What do you need that for?”

“We suspect the spring in that newest tunnel. Finding the source of that water might help determine if something topside is causing the sickness.”

The yar huffed. “The rocks act as natural purifiers. Anything at the surface would be filtered out.”

“Given the similarities of this illness to hega rhotaru, I’d prefer to check it all the same.” Having his decisions questioned never sat well with Darius, whether it came from a leader of a nation or a common farmer. “At least we can rule it out then. If there are no answers topside, we’ll try again here.”

“And you’re certain you haven’t contracted it yourselves?”

“Given the first sign of it is bruising on the torso a day after exposure, I think we’d have noticed by now.”

“We could have our healers have a look at—”

He stopped him without a second thought, immediately thinking of Arden. “Not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Once we’ve learned the cause, or failed to, we’ll be back to help.”

The yar didn’t look happy about it, but capitulated nevertheless. “Fine. I’ll inform the guards of your impending return. Speak with Morda at the athenaeum for the maps you need. Is that all?”

“It is.” Darius stood and dipped his head at him, a nod of a bow from one king to another. “Thank you for your hospitality the past few days.”

The yar returned the sentiment and shook his hand, then moved on to Arden. Holding her fingers, he brushed a whiskered kiss across her knuckles. “You are always welcome in Ogtern, my lady. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

She curtsied a little and smiled, ever respectful. “You have an amazing city, Yar Bronson. I’m sad to leave her.”

His grin for Arden faded as he looked at Vennic. “Safe journey, good sir.”

Vennic smiled at him, placating as ever, but didn’t offer any pleasantries of his own. Ehlren lingered a moment as they saw themselves out, but joined them in the hall not long after.

“I need to see about the map, but Arden has business to wrap up with Master Thrass. Would you mind coming with me, so Vennic can go with her? I’d like to be away as soon as possible, and I might need translation at the athenaeum.”

Ehlren nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Reconvening at lunch, then?”

“One last trip to the Tinker & Fang?” Arden suggested, oddly happy about going to a place Darius had done more than his fair share of shady business.

Ehlren chuckled. “Might as well, as it’s between the two places.”

That settled, they split up and headed out. Though he was reluctant to lose sight of Arden, he knew she was safe in Vennic’s hands. There was work to do, and he couldn’t be everywhere at once. The athenaeum awaited.

Arden

Arden clutched her notebook to her chest as though it were a child in need of protecting. The information she collected on the Gordian weapons would save her years of her own research, and for that she couldn’t be more grateful. If it were possible, she’d pick up the entirety of Castle Dulaine and put it on the mountain, simply to be closer to Master Thrass and his amazing mind. It was slightly heartbreaking to know how much she could still learn from him if she had even one more day.

As sad as it was to be moving on, seeing Darius waiting for them at the Tinker & Fang comforted her considerably. Perhaps they weren’t everything she wanted them to be, but his presence was a balm to her hurts. Even when her old nightmares invaded her sleep, they were less overpowering, less insurmountable, when he was with her. He might not ever love her, but she realized the day before that didn’t matter.

Where he went, she would always follow.

“I’m sorry we don’t have longer for you to work on your research,” he said after she and Vennic sat down, “but, I have some news that might cheer you up.”

She sighed and lifted a cup of water to her lips. “No cause or cure for this illness, plus I have to leave the largest treasure trove of information I’ve ever encountered. Please, I could use some good news.”

“The source of the spring lies in the Blighted Sands the Ansere’th have been reclaiming. Which means…”