Duskfall (5 page)

To the fat-faced man’s credit, he came at Knot again without hesitation. Knot parried the spear-thrust with a movement of the club, then let his momentum take the club back to connect with the side of the man’s fleshy face. The man fell, silent, red seeping from his head into the snow.

Knot picked up the spear. He would leave one man alive, the one he had kicked unconscious, just to corroborate his involvement and steer blame away from the tiellans. The spearhead slid in and out of the other two men’s ribs easily. Knot hesitated. He felt a thrill move through him as he killed the two watchmen, the same thrill he had felt in the chapel as he killed the men from Roden. The thrill frightened him, but what frightened him even more was how he craved the feeling again. He wanted to kill this last man, consequences be damned. Knot stood trembling, vaguely aware of the dull ache in his shoulder.

Then he threw the spear into the blood-soaked snow and walked away. Before he had gone a few paces, he bent over and vomited.

W
INTER STARED INTO THE FIRE
. Despite the heat of the flames and the heavy wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the only thing she felt was cold. Eranda sat beside her, one arm hugging her tightly, but the gesture felt dead and frozen, like a tree limb in winter.

“I’m going to find him,” Winter said. She wasn’t sure if she had said it already, or had just been repeating it over and over in her mind. She was vaguely aware of Eranda and Darrin looking at each other before Darrin responded.

“Knot saved you last night, no doubting that. Might’ve saved us all. But he left for a reason, Winter. He’s dangerous, or at least has dangerous men on his trail. We’ve known it all along, whether we said so or not.”

“Don’t,” Winter said. She didn’t want to hear it. She had made up her mind.

“Winter,” Darrin tried again, “he isn’t one of
us
. He’s not—”

“I said
don’t
,” Winter repeated. “He’s the only family I have left.”

“You feel that way now,” Eranda said. “But
we
are here for you. Your own kind. Knot was just a human. He didn’t belong in our world.”

Winter frowned, feeling some of the coldness fade. Eranda was right.

And Knot… she kept telling herself that he had his reasons for leaving, that he wouldn’t have gone if he didn’t have to. But a thought nagged at her. What if he hadn’t left because he
had
to?

What if he had just left?

He was human, after all. Perhaps Winter never should have trusted him in the first place. She stared into the fire for a long time.

“You’re right,” she said, eventually. “I do still have friends here.” She attempted a smile. “And I need you to help me do something.”

“Winter—” Darrin began, but she cut him off before he could continue.

“Not to help me leave,” she said. Darrin visibly relaxed. “I need to put my father to rest.”

* * *

Wind swept Winter’s hair across her face as she watched Lian and Darrin walk down the pier, carrying her father’s body, wrapped in cloth. Eranda and her three children had arrived a moment before with a torch.

Winter had thought she would be able to help prepare her father’s body, but even going near him had been difficult. Touching his face, feeling the coldness of it, had been too much. Winter was grateful the others had been willing to help.

The Swordsmith’s Daughter
rocked gently in the water against the pier behind her, freezing wood against freezing wood. But even in the middle of the long winter, the Gulf of Nahl itself never froze.

In one hand Winter carried the bow her father had given her at the beginning of her thirteenth summer. Fishing had been their profession, but hunting had been her passion. The days she spent in the wilderness with nothing but a bedroll beneath her and a bow at her side, away from humans and away from tiellans and away from everything, were some of the days Winter valued most.

She had sent Lian to ask Gord if he would attend the funeral, but his wounds were too serious. Winter hated to think of Gord, injured and alone. The guilt she felt for what had happened to him, and to all of them, was as constant as a river.

Lian and Darrin both nodded respectfully as they passed, and Winter motioned for them to put her father on a small sailboat that rocked against the dock next to
The Swordsmith’s Daughter
. Her father had taught Winter to sail in that boat. Winter had thought briefly about sending him out on his fishing boat, but knew she couldn’t.
The Swordsmith’s Daughter
meant too much to the community.

Lian and Darrin stepped carefully onto the boat, placing her father’s body near the helm. They turned, looking to her.

“Hoist sail.” The wind seemed to carry Winter’s voice far away.

“Aren’t you coming aboard, Winter?” Darrin asked.

Winter shook her head. She hadn’t told them her plan, and she wasn’t sure if they would approve. At first they had assumed she wanted her father buried in Cantic tradition, beneath the ground near the chapel with a stone statuette of him, to protect him from Oblivion. They would certainly bury Dent there, if the humans allowed it. Winter, still sick whenever she thought of the wretched place, wouldn’t go near it. Her mother had received no such treatment; nor, then, would her father. He would want it this way, like the ancient tiellans of the sea.

“Lash the tiller, then disembark,” Winter said, nearly having to shout over the wind. While the others had prepared Bahc’s body she had soaked the boat with oil.

Darrin obeyed, but Lian stood looking at her. “This is what you want?”

“Do it.” She was trying to take charge. “Please.”

Lian looked at her a moment longer, his breath rising in the air, and then finally turned to help Darrin with the tiller.

“Cut the lines,” Winter said when they had set foot on the pier again.

The two tiellans did as ordered, their daggers slicing through the frozen lines that held the boat. Small icicles fell from each line as it swung back to the hull, shattering into the sea.

The group stood silently, watching the boat slip out into gray waters. The only sound came from the howling wind.

“May Canta guide him home,” Eranda whispered.

“Canta is dead,” Winter said. Then she raised her bow and touched an arrow with an oil-soaked rag to the torch that Eranda held. The arrow burst into flame. Winter nocked the shaft, taking aim.

She released, and the arrow soared through the air, a blazing orange line against the gray sky. It plunged into the sea a few rods from the boat.

Winter cursed, her eyes stinging. She drew another arrow, lighting it. It fell even further away from the vessel than the last.

Winter lit another and fired. The flames fell into the sea. The wind was carrying the shafts, but that was no excuse. Winter should be able to account for the wind, to find her target despite it. That was what her father had taught her.

The boat would soon sail out of range. Winter fought the panic rising in her chest, the embarrassment coloring her cheeks, and continued firing.

On her sixth or seventh arrow, Winter finally hit the mark. It struck the bow of the boat, and in seconds the entire vessel was aflame.

Everyone wanted to believe that Canta could save them from Oblivion. Everyone wanted to believe that there was something more to this life, that something of them continued in Canta’s Praeclara. But, as Winter watched her father’s boat burn, she realized the truth. There was this life, and there was Oblivion. Nothing else.

She would never lie to herself that way again.

Winter flinched as she felt someone’s arms wrap around her, and realized that she was sobbing, silently, her body convulsing in the cold. She couldn’t take her eyes off the burning boat, alone in the wide, sullen sea.

* * *

“You’re still going after him, aren’t you?” Darrin asked, hours later back in his family’s hut.

Winter nodded, fiddling with the straps on the pack she had filled with clothing, food, sleeping gear, and about half of the money she had. Her father’s money.

Winter had given the rest of the money, what her father had saved up and hadn’t spent on her wedding, to Darrin and Eranda. She left the fishing boat with them as well. She didn’t know if Darrin and Lian would be enough to crew the vessel, even when Gord recovered—certainly no humans in Pranna would join up—but it was the least she could do.

“No stopping you, then?” Darrin asked.

“No stopping me.” Winter felt a brief pang of regret at leaving this family that had always been so kind to her. But she knew that she couldn’t stay. They had been kind to her, but they had never been
her
family. Even if she never found Knot, she still had to leave. There was too much here that would haunt her.

“Why are you doing this, Winter?” Eranda asked, seated near the fire. Tohn slept in her arms.

“He’s my husband. We said the vows.” She looked up at Eranda. “Tiellans don’t break vows.”

Eranda raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care for tiellan tradition?”

Winter frowned. Eranda was right; she had never been much for tradition. But she had always been stubborn. Knot had left her. Maybe to protect her, maybe to just get away from her. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to let him go that easily.

She felt a sense of duty, and she had feelings for Knot—no use denying that—but more than anything, she just needed to
leave
. She wasn’t going after Knot so much as leaving what remained of her life behind. Now that her father was gone, she had nothing left to keep her here. She had always wanted to get away from Pranna, to see the world. She had always wanted more than this town could give her.

But she couldn’t tell Darrin and Eranda that. They would understand duty before they understood need.

Lian walked in, bundled warmly in wools and fur, a leather pack swung over one shoulder. His wide-brimmed
araif
was tilted at an angle on his head. Winter’s gaze lingered briefly on the dagger and short hunting knife thrust through his belt, thinking of her own bow and quiver that she had packed.

“What?” he asked, when he saw her staring at him. “You’re not goin’ alone. Don’t think you can argue with me.”

Winter couldn’t help but smile. She needed to leave, but she was terrified of traveling to Cineste—where Knot had said he might go first—alone. She had no idea what she was doing; no idea how to find Knot. She had been worried she would freeze up the moment she came in contact with any human.

“I guess I could tolerate the company,” she said, trying to hide her relief. And beneath her relief, surprise. Lian loved Pranna, and had always hated the thought of leaving. That reason, among many others, was why their relationship had never worked.

“There’s stew in the cauldron, Lian. Help yourself,” Eranda said. She was rocking Tohn now, her chair creaking. “We insisted Winter eat. Same goes for you.”

“Much thanks,” he told her with a smile, “I always got room for a hot meal.” Shedding the large sealskin cloak he wore, he dished out some stew and sat down.

Winter glanced at Eranda, who understood her look and nodded. “Darrin, love, would you help me get these children to bed?”

Darrin began to protest, but fell silent when he saw his wife’s face. “Of course.” He helped Eranda up. “I’m exhausted, anyway.” The couple moved quietly into the other room.

Then Winter and Lian were alone.

“Thank you,” Winter said, sitting beside him in front of the fire.

“What for?”

“Don’t play that game,” she said, looking at him seriously. “I mean it. For being there this morning, for helping with my father, for being here now… thank you.”

Lian nodded, swallowing. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he said, returning her gaze. His eyes weren’t as dark as hers, more of a grey color, but Winter had always thought them handsome.

She didn’t respond, and they sat in silence.

“You know this is crazy, right?” Lian finally asked, looking at her earnestly. Winter punched him in the arm in response. He flinched, spilling stew on himself.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know it is.”

“Then why’re you doin’ it?”

“Because it’s the only thing left,” Winter said, surprised at how good it felt to finally voice her emotions. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“I just told you, Lian, there’s nothing here for me.”

“
I’m
here for you,” he said. She looked at him. Orange firelight flickered on his face. She shook her head. She had loved Lian once, but she hadn’t felt that way about him in years. He was a good man, and a good friend, but he wasn’t what she wanted.

“Think of it,” he said, setting down the bowl and grabbing her hands. “We could keep up your father’s fishing business. Have children, grow old together. We could be
happy
, Winter. We could, I swear it.”

“That’s one thing you’ve never understood about me,” Winter said. “I’ve never
wanted
to stay here in Pranna. Not with you, not with Knot, not with anyone. And now that Papa’s gone… there’s no reason for me to pretend anymore.”

She squeezed his hands, but then pulled away. How could she explain to him that she had
never
felt she belonged in Pranna?

There was silence for what seemed a very long time.

Eventually, Winter stood. “We leave early, before they wake,” she said, nodding towards the back room. “I don’t want a messy goodbye. The children wouldn’t understand.”
And
, she thought,
I’ve already shed enough tears in the past two days for ten lifetimes. Don’t know if I have any more left.

When Lian didn’t respond, Winter felt a twinge of fear in her chest. Panic rose inside her, but she fought it down.

“Of course,” she said, hesitantly, “that’s if you still want to come with me. I understand if you don’t. If I leave, you could still have a life here.”

“I’ll go with you, princess,” he said, staring into the fire. Winter felt her face flush. Lian had called her that since they were children. “But I’m only goin’ for you. Not for him. Find him or not, I don’t care.”