Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) (13 page)

“It’s going to take a lot more than sorry to wash away more than half a lifetime of grief, Logren. I know…” he started, voice catching in the back of his throat and giving him pause to think through what he was about to say. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t able to make yourself known to me, but it’s going to take time for me to come to terms with the fact that you’re alive, well and have been so this entire time. Surely you won’t begrudge me that.”

“Of course not,” he said quietly. “But you can do it under my roof, for the time being anyway. Now that Lorelei’s away, and Bren with her, you can stay in the spare room.” As if he expected protest, he lifted his hand, preemptively stopping Vilnjar from replying. “And I won’t take no for an answer. In fact, I’ll tell anyone in Dunvarak who’ll listen they aren’t to put a roof over your head until I say they can.”

Logren was a hard man, but for the briefest of moments Vilnjar saw the familiar glimmer of his father’s softness in his eyes, the leaping fire of playful joy flickering within as he held out his hand in a gesture of peace.

“So,” he started, “will you be staying with me, or sleeping beyond the walls?”

“When you put it that way…” He accepted Logren’s hand, and for the first time since they’d been reunited, he didn’t feel the same bitterness inside. He felt the relief hidden behind it, begging silently to be felt.

“Good, now let’s go see if Viina’s planned anything for lunch. I’m starving.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Confinement to the barrier so long before sunset made the raven restless. Brendolowyn watched Hrafn pace and flutter across the small space for more than an hour before the bird finally gave up and went to roost in the upper corner of the mage’s tent. Such long journeys gave Hrafn a sense of freedom some part of him still longed for, the part his connection to Bren made impossible to quell.

The bird was old, had been old as long as Brendolowyn could remember, but the connection between him and his spirit animal lent an ageless quality to him that wasn’t so easily explained. By all rights, Hrafn should have died while his mage was in captivity, and for a long time Brendolowyn believed he was dead, but when the Light of Madra laid him to rest on the cold shores of Rimian, Hrafn was there.

He would always be there, until the day his mage was taken from the world and set upon the path that awaited him in the afterlife. Archmage Auden said Hrafn would find him even there, that the two of them shared many lifetimes together and would continue to travel well beyond the veil between life and death when all was said and done.

Glancing up at his familiar, Hrafn tucked into himself, wings folded and head buried comfortably, but his hard stare never wavered from the goings on below. He was particularly perturbed by the U’lfer, and though Bren himself felt equally annoyed by Finn’s presence, he wondered if it didn’t go deeper. If it wasn’t the presence of a wolf among them that disturbed his avian friend. Would Hrafn be equally bothered by Bren himself once he’d embraced the beast beneath his skin? Or would they go on as they always had together, as though nothing whatsoever changed?

The wolf was always there. It woke and stirred inside him when he began transitioning between childhood and adulthood, and though Hrafn never seemed bothered by the wild and confused beast trapped beneath the surface, Finn’s beast was different. It appeared in every temperamental word the warrior uttered, every glance.

Was that what awaited them all? Boiling tempers? The inability to curb their own emotions?

Brendolowyn hoped not. He had no desire to wear his heart so boldly on his sleeve.

He told himself he wouldn’t get too close or interfere with the natural progression of things. He would step back and let the U’lfer have what was rightfully his, according to Yovenna, but Finn was a blighted idiot, too young and arrogant to understand the delicate nature of courting a woman. Maybe he was bored and restless after the long afternoon and evening trapped beneath their camp’s protective barrier, or maybe they were all just tired, but it seemed everything Finn said made Lorelei grit her teeth.

If he kept it up, Bren would get exactly what he wanted: the life he’d seen with her, and while the thought brought him the barest hint of satisfaction, it also made him guilty.

Huddled in his robes beside the fire, their bellies filled with a thin stew made from dried vegetables and beef, two trolls drawn in by the flickering light of their fire through the barrier paced just feet away from where they sat. Their ragged, heavy breath mingled with the fierce keen of the wind, each draw sounding like bones rattling in their heavy, wheezing lungs.

The sound was disturbing, and more than once it startled Lorelei from her weary thoughts to stare beyond the barrier with wide, frightened eyes.

The fact that a good meal was just beyond their reach seemed to enrage them, and as they stomped and bellowed, Finn took it upon himself to taunt them like a fool. He stood at the edge of the barrier, watching them, occasionally snorting amusement and asking what would happen if they started to hammer their great, hairy fists against the magical shield protecting them.

“They can’t get close enough to touch the barrier,” Brendolowyn explained, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. “It won’t stop them from trying, and they will likely spend all night attempting to do just that and failing miserably.”

“You mean they will really linger out there all night?” Lorelei balked in dismay. “Stop it, Finn!”

Barely glancing back over his shoulder at her, the sound of his tongue clicking the roof of his mouth was followed with an annoyed sigh.

“They will tire themselves out just before dawn and skulk off back to their caves, but it is better not to rile them.”

Trolls were relatively witless oafs that thought only of filling of their stomachs. They really would hover there all night searching for a way to get to what they wanted, and though the barrier was strong enough to keep them out, they would stomp and rage and roar through the long night, making it difficult for any of them to sleep. It was a good thing they were all so exhausted, though exhaustion was rarely reason enough for Bren’s body to give in to peaceable sleep. Lorelei would probably toss and turn for a bit before the merciful tug of slumber drew her into its arms.

To him, her peace was all that mattered.

It was impossible to hold reasonable conversation, and he toyed with the idea of working a muffling spell to soundproof their camp against outside noises, but in the end he was too tired to summon the magic required to do it. So the companions suffered through it, trying their best to ignore the huffing, grinding, roaring sound of angry trolls longing to crush them and eat them.

Darkness barely began to set in when Lorelei announced she could no longer sit up straight. After washing out her bowl in the snow, she retired to her tent, rustled around for only a few minutes inside and then settled. The U’lfer didn’t follow, but sat with his knees drawn, arms wrapped around them as he stared into the fire. Only for a moment did he turn over his shoulder and look at the tent, as if debating whether or not he should follow or wait until he knew she was asleep to creep inside and make himself comfortable.

Why they shared a tent was beyond Bren. Logren confirmed they weren’t mated, not yet, and Lorelei didn’t seem to know if they ever would be. Despite that, regardless of the constant bickering between them, she did sort of cling to the warrior, and though she hadn’t said as much, Brendolowyn got the impression she felt safer with Finn than anyone else. She trusted him. He’d gotten her out of the Edgelands, or at least as far as Great Sontok before Logren intervened, and who was to say Finn wouldn’t have seen her to the other side of the mountain without her brother’s intervention?

Despite his evident recklessness and lack of self-control, Finn clearly possessed some skill, and his ability to embrace his inner beast saved Brendolowyn, loathe as he was to admit it.

Still, he didn’t have to like the wolf, and he had a feeling there was little Finn could say or do to nudge him in an amicable direction. He was arrogant, brash, mouthy and immature, and he had a lot to learn about life before Bren would think him even the slightest bit worthy of saving.

It is not your place to judge his worth.

Yovenna’s voice was like a constant curse inside his mind every time he thought ill of the U’lfer sitting across from him. A curse that couldn’t be ignored no matter how hard he tried to block it out, he lowered his head and let the fabric of his hood shadow in around his face.

It was the first time the two of them had ever really been alone, though he wasn’t sure it could actually be considered alone. Lorelei was just a stone’s throw away from where they sat. It didn’t seem a good time to make conversation, but he learned soon enough Finn couldn’t be quiet even at the best of times.

“Is it true, what you said earlier?” he asked. “You were in the arenas at Bok’naal?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“A man will say anything to impress a woman,” he muttered.

“I need not say things to impress anyone.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have to, with your fancy magic, worldly rapport and Alvarii grace.” Finn made little effort to hide the distaste in his voice, but Bren didn’t allow it to bother him. “So, what was that like?”

He didn’t have to look up to see there was a curious gleam in the U’lfer’s eye, the kind of youthful curiosity that came tempered with inexperience and insensitivity. The boy may have seen a lot, may have even proved himself a warrior among his own kind, but the U’lfer weren’t exactly a fighting breed anymore, and Finn clearly had no real concept of what it meant to live one’s moments as if they might very well be his last.

“I’d say it was riveting, but that would be a lie.” Still not lifting his stare from the fire, he felt a subtle shift in the mood of his companion, a defensiveness rising to the surface. “I fought for my life every single day and barely made it out alive, but it was a learning experience I’ll surely never forget.”

“How did you? Escape, I mean?”

Provoked by his nerve, Brendolowyn finally drew his gaze upward and narrowed disbelieving lavender eyes across the fire at Finn.

“I mean, I don’t know a lot about it…”

“You wouldn’t, would you? Know anything about it at all.”

“Only what I’ve been told,” he shrugged as if the bite of Brendolowyn’s tone barely nibbled at the surface of his consciousness. Was he really daft, or just so arrogantly immune to others’ emotions he could easily ignore it? “And most of it is pretty outdated. We don’t exactly leave the Edgelands or have much contact with people from the outside world. Well, we didn’t. I’m a man of the world now, I suppose.”

“That would explain a great deal about your lack of tact and social grace.”

“So,” Finn prompted, still oblivious to the cold tone in Bren’s voice, “how did you get out alive?”

“Very carefully.”

For a long time the U’lfer was actually quiet. Not angered by the harshness in Bren’s tone, but contemplative, as if he were trying to imagine it. At last, he shrugged and said, “I just wondered. I think it’s important to know what you can expect from the people who are supposed to watch your back, that’s all. If you managed to get out of something like that…” He let his mind wander, the barest modicum of respect lingering in those words he never finished.

“And what about you? What can I expect from you as
you
watch
my
back, Wolf?”

The fact that he’d spoken the word wolf like an insult did get under Finn’s skin. The sudden shift in his mood and demeanor was enough to confirm it, and though he knew it was petty, Brendolowyn felt a certain amount of satisfaction at having riled his companion.

Petty, potentially dangerous…

They were supposed to change the cycle of time, Brendolowyn was supposed to ensure Finn didn’t die in the same manner he’d done time and time and time again, but what was to stop the U’lfer from shattering time by refusing to extend a hand if Bren himself was in need?

“I’ll watch your back,” Finn said as casually as if he might have said he’d watch fish rise to the surface of a lake to catch gadflies in their mouths, and then he added, “so long as your back doesn’t get in the way of my keeping her safe.”

“And you can expect the same from me.”

Shrugging, as if he didn’t care one way or the other, Finn dropped his hands into the snow and pushed upright until he was standing. “It doesn’t matter either way to me. I don’t need you to watch my back. I can take care of myself and the princess too.” He lingered for a moment at the edge of the fire, then turned into the tent behind him, ducking inside and letting the flap flutter at his back.

He really was as clueless as he was arrogant. He had no idea what awaited them on the road ahead, of the dangers they were meant to face and how close they might all come to losing their lives before achieving their task. Brendolowyn’s awareness wasn’t much clearer, but he knew the danger existed, knew if he didn’t change the things he’d done in the past, Finn would die and it would be his fault.

Brendolowyn turned to watch the trolls pace just beyond the barrier, listened to the dreadful sound of their huffing and moaning as they dragged clubbed weapons across the frozen surface beneath their stomping feet.

He was no better than Finn. He’d been contemptible in his replies, allowing his obvious emotions to rise to the surface in the same way he’d belittled the U’lfer.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, Finn’s asking about the arena. After all, Brendolowyn himself brought it up, made it known to them he’d once been enslaved by his own foolishness and forced to do unspeakable things just to stay alive. Things that made him feel dirty and foul, that made it hard for him to sleep at night without waking in a cold sweat, his heart racing as memories of the most awful time in his life plagued his dreams.