Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 (33 page)

She had smiled then, thinking of Sisters who had corrected her prayers, word for word, into the proscribed formula — which she had known perfectly, of course, but often resented giving them the satisfaction that she had learned.

Adria had always thought it unreasonable that an unknown god, whose rules changed over time, could somehow demand exactitude of prayer. Had she been anyone but a princess, her mistakes might have earned her a more physical reprimand, like those Twyla described from her own brief schooling.

Again, Adria grew sick for home, as she and her uncle watched the stars, but then a soothing music began, and her thoughts returned to the present. Distantly, in the camp proper, just down the hillside from where Adria made her camp with Preinon and the Runners, someone sang a lullaby, and as she tried to make out some of the words, she grew a little sleepy. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to clear them.

“I am ready to speak, Uncle. You did not intend to speak merely of stars.”

There was a formality to serious conversations which the Aesidhe followed, Adria had already learned. Even an adult needing to lecture a child would simply say they wished to do so, and then would wait for the child to ask. Aesidhe children had many parents to watch over them, and they learned rather quickly what dangers existed in the world around them, and that what mistakes there were to be made must be corrected as a matter of survival. There was little reluctance or fear of punishment.

“Do you know what we are going to talk about?” he asked.

“I… think so…” Adria nodded, and a lump formed in her throat. Her suspicions had grown in recent days, as the Runners grew more busy, even restless. She was glad he had given her a day to think about this, even with only such a simple warning. Still, he waited for more of an answer.

“We are going to speak of my fate among the People.” She took a breath. “It is going to be summer soon, and you will have much to do to protect the other Aesidhe camps and villages which remain… to protect them against Father’s armies. There is a reason this camp is separate. You and the Runners do not camp here all year. Do you?”

“No,” Preinon nodded. “And I am impressed by what you can see without hearing the words.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” She frowned, looking down through the trees to where the lullaby was being sung, to a larger fire, with more substantial dwellings built up around it — though still a temporary affair of saplings and skins, ready to break down in an hour or two and move. “I am… meant to remain behind, and this is the last tribe you will camp with for awhile.”

“Shema Ihaloa Táya are a good tribe, and this is a good camp. It is safe for now, but they are also aware of the danger which comes, and you will learn much among them.”

Adria’s homesickness from before returned in double, but she managed to hold back her tears. “When do we say goodbye?”

“Tomorrow.”

Adria heard herself say, “But I am an excellent archer. I could… at least help guard the Runner camp while everyone else…” but she quickly realized she was pleading, and a little foolishly.

Perhaps she could guard the camp, but if the camp had to be abandoned and the Runners had to flee, she would only hold them back, or else would have to be left behind. That much she had seen when following Mateko.

Adria finished arguing with herself and sighed her resignation. “No, I know that is not the way.”

“You are wise already.” Preinon smiled, but then his face turned serious. “Learn everything you can this season, and work hard for them, and… should anything happen, protect them with your life, and, if need be, your name — for it may yet bear some weight in the worst of circumstances. You would not easily come to harm, even at the wickedest hands in Heiland.”

“I will, Uncle,” she nodded. He was not being frivolous — not merely trying to keep her out of danger. They were on the borderlands, and Adria knew there were safer camps west or south he could have left her with. No, here she could be put to better use, and could learn more quickly.

By the next summer, this camp would likely have to move deeper into the forest, for by next year the Knights would march a little further, the forest would shrink a bit more.

He smiled. “We will return occasionally, even during the summer. And should you choose, we will begin your training in earnest before winter comes. We cannot make great promises to each other, when this season could break them as easily as a life, but… the others have watched you, as have I. You have an able body, a strong will, and a sharp mind. It is possible you could be trained to be one of us, in time.”

“A Runner…” as much as she had wished to go with them, their abilities often seemed far beyond what she could attain.

Adria was confident that her ability with blade and bow could grow to serve the Aesidhe well, but these seemed the least of their skills. Had she not been with Mateko the day before, she would never even have known they were around, and even their bird calls would have fooled her.

But Preinon would not have mentioned the possibility of her becoming one of them were it not real. They had already made concessions for her inadequacies and ignorance, as they would a child, but she knew that he would not neglect the needs of the People merely for the sake of her feelings.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she smiled, and he reached over to grip her shoulder and nodded into the sky again, silent. Adria’s thoughts filled with fantasies of walking silent and invisible, of her arrows appearing out of nowhere lodged near the feet of enemies who turned about, but could not find anyone to strike.

She forced her thoughts to calm, otherwise she might not continue their conversation, much less get to sleep that night. Already, Adria was anxious for his return, but this was still a goodbye. Adria knew quite well that, with the paths the Runners walked, it might still be the last time she ever saw her uncle.

“There is something I wish to speak of, then,” Adria began. “We started last night, but… there is more I would understand.”

Preinon seemed to have been expecting this, and nodded solemnly. “Say what you will, and I will listen.”

Adria collected her thoughts a few moments longer. Her life had changed quickly, remarkably, and she only gradually had begun to piece together the past and the present of her circumstances. Preinon had a longer memory, and a deeper point of view, both as an Aeman and an Aesidhe. She had many questions, and he was one of a few who had many answers. Still, the enormity of her ignorance, now that she found the courage to diminish it, left her awestruck and nearly dumb, and she struggled for a place to start.

“I… remember the night you left Windberth for the last time, and… I know that my father made war with you soon after that. I know that you gave me hints, before, about the Aesidhe, and about you.” And here she had to guess a little. “I think that you rebelled against my father only when Taber and her Knights began to destroy the Aesidhe, and that my father and the Knights defeated you. Is this all true?”

“True enough,” he answered, after a moment of thought. “I did not truly rebel, though in the end this was a mere formality. Ebenhardt marched against me before I could have organized anything like a true resistance. I was never the diplomat that Taber was, and could never rally enough of the nobility to me. It…” he hesitated, sighing, and shook his head.

Adria knew he was not ready to tell her anything like a whole story. Still, she could not easily imagine betraying Hafgrim, or even him betraying her. She wanted to know something of how a brother could fight a brother.

“Did you fight my father’s armies, or were you forced to retreat?” She softened the words a little.

“You must understand,” he continued. “The duchy that your father gave me, the role was mostly... administrative. It lay across the western divide, against and beyond the Greywards. They called it the Violet West, even before the banners of Idonea flew there, because of how the mountains showed in the sunset.” He seemed a little wistful at this, but continued without changing his tone.

“Most of it was actually owned by the crown — I was merely placed there to guard it against corrupt silver or iron barons of Ebonfold or elsewhere. I oversaw the transport of lumber and metals to Windberth and the lowlands. I was given a few small estates for my own subsistence, but even what profits I was allowed from wood and ores had to be traded for food and necessities. You father never placed great trust in me. He allowed me the prestige and title due me by blood, but never risked giving me the means to oppose him.”

“How did you, then? Why did you?” Adria urged. She wanted a picture.

“To tell the truth, with some shame... I didn’t resist him,” he frowned. “At least, not until it was too late… I was betrayed even as I would have acted to betray him.

“This…” The wistfulness now fully gone, he hesitated in how to continue. “Is not the best story for tonight.”

Adria did not hesitate. “And if you should not return after the summer, who then is there to tell it?”

Preinon considered her words, then nodded. “There was a man in my court, a banneret by the name of Sir Godwindson. He was an excellent captain, and indeed a good friend. But he harbored ambitions of becoming an officer among the Knights of Darkfire — or perhaps he had already been promised such.

“When the Sisterhood began its aggressions against the Aesidhe in earnest, I was… far from certain of their cause. I had dealt with some among the Aesidhe personally, and had made some effort at establishing treaties, had bartered for the use of what they considered to be their land.

“Because of my status, such efforts were mostly overlooked by your father’s zealots, and were even welcomed by many within my demesne. In the less settled Violet West, many had long grown accustomed to dealing with the Aesidhe as a matter of survival.

“When the Knights of Darkfire began their destruction, at the time mostly in secret, I quickly learned of it from both sides of the conflict. I knew I would have to make some difficult choices. I knew that the Knights would in time move west, and that the treaties I had made would be broken. I did not wish to be forsworn, but also did not wish to defy Ebenhardt.

“So instead, I sought a peaceful solution. I warned the Aesidhe tribes with whom I had dealt, and I aided them in their retreat... those who chose to, at least. By the time I turned my attention toward the Heiland nobility, Godwindson had already carried word to Windberth of my… betrayal, it was called. So when the Knights of Darkfire came, they came for me first, with King Ebenhardt and Matron Taber at their fore.”

He caught himself, then, and paused. Adria could see the pain in his features, and she did not urge him on. Nonetheless, he continued.

“There was little time, and I had no hope of resistance… what few men I could organize would have been outnumbered a hundred to one — and I knew not all of them would wish to fight such a battle. Many would be Godwinson’s, or the king’s. I was given the chance to be tried, but of course the best I could hope for was imprisonment. Taber’s law had already made it possible for them to order my death, if not for treachery then for heresy.

“Through circumstances beyond my control, I was given an escape. At the time, my pride might not have allowed it. But I had good counsel. I knew that if I behaved as a coward, and abandoned my men, none of them would have to fight, and could surrender without issue, and their lives and families would be safe. Godwinson was... not my friend, in the end, but I held faith that he would protect those who remained behind from what were deemed my sins. It was... the best I might have hoped for.”

Adria could see tears in his eye as he considered the stars once more. 
The Valley-Keeper?
 she wondered. 
Whispers-of-Smoke?

Much was left untold, but Adria understood that it might take time, that he… and perhaps she… might not be ready. So she helped him to the next part, with a grim smile.

“So you fled into the woods, after all the children you had sent ahead of you. And my father was the dragon, after all.”

He blinked a moment, uncomprehending, and then laughed, and some of the sadness of his story was broken.

“You remember that story? I had almost forgotten….” he smiled, shaking his head. “But there is some truth in it, and in how I left, I suppose. Many of the Aesidhe had taken my warning better than I had myself, and had been watching, and I soon found aid from them. I joined in their retreat, and I offered them my counsel and my strength.”

“You knew the Aeman Heiland world as they did not,” Adria nodded. “You knew my father... you knew the religion and the politics. You knew the structure of their armies, how they moved, how they fought. You knew how castles were built, and how they might be avoided, or even taken down, should the possibility arise. You knew the Matron, and you knew the Knights, and you knew that they would never stop, and that you, and the Aesidhe, would always have to keep running.”

He nodded grimly. “The tribes were disparate when I joined them, and some even warred with each other. They were used to Aeman incursion, but were slow to realize that their danger was fast increasing.

”Still, those who had recently been attacked had sent a few messengers among the tribes to warn them, and these were joined by others as the months and years went on. I became one of them myself, for, as you say, I knew the danger best. Over time, we became more than messengers. Those best at running, the best Hunters, began to serve as active scouts, and finally became warriors of a sort, the first and last line of defense.”

“The Runners,” Adria said. “Metehãloweye. This word I know. They became like the Wilding Ghosts of the stories, and for good reason. The Knights cannot fight what they cannot see. They fear it. They fear you, though they do not know you lead them.”

“I am only one among them. I did not make them as they are. I have learned more from them than they from me. But… the effect is the same. The Aeman at last have something to fear from the Aesidhe, even if it is half-shrouded in myth.”

They were silent for a moment, before Adria posed a deeper question, though she felt almost silly to ask it aloud.