Cornerstone (16 page)

Things had only gone downhill from there. He hadn't stopped to refill his pack with food before setting out to chase after Emariya, and now what little he had had was gone. Every damn tree looked the same, and the sky was so gray with winter snow clouds that he couldn't base his direction on the sun. Garith had given up hoping he was still going north, and now only prayed he wasn't going in circles. As far as he could tell, he was still in the Borderlands, so all he had to do was make sure he kept a constant direction and eventually the forest would give way to open land. Then he should be able to get his bearings, he told himself. He almost believed it.

He stopped still, listening. For a moment he thought he heard rustling in the brush ahead. Deer, maybe? Not that it would matter. All he had was a small knife, and he was unlikely to be able to take down a deer with only a knife. Then he heard it again. This time, though, the sound was different. It was voices, suggesting there were at least two people ahead. He was too tired, too cold, and too hungry to consider that it might be an enemy. He started quickly toward the sounds ahead, not bothering to try and conceal his approach. He could smell the smoke now. Someone had built a fire! Just the thought of being able to warm himself by the fire was encouraging.

“
Friend, or foe?” The question came from behind him just as he felt the cold point of a blade at the base of his neck.

***

That morning, they caught their first glimpse of mountains. While Khane and Rink had seen them before, the girls never had.

“
Ooh, they're magnificent!” Jessa exclaimed.

Emariya had to admit that her friend was right. The mountains were a deep charcoal blue, so dark they were almost gray, with lines of white snow running wildly across their expanse. As the early morning sun hit them, they came alive as a molten, shimmering silver. At first, they seemed to be gently rising, rolling much like the hills near Warren's Rest, but as the day wore on, they rose sharper, higher, and more absolute, as if raising a fist high in the air triumphantly. Here, the flat spacious plain met the rocky, barren mountains in a perpetual battle that the plains were fated to always lose.

“
You'll see many more of 'em where we're headed. Won’t be nothin' but rocks, dirt, and bigger rocks. Reckon they won't seem so pretty before long, and you'll be wishing for your fields again.” Khane was practical, and also likely right.

They came upon Three Stone Pass just as the morning turned to afternoon. The snow fell steadily as they brought their horses to a stop. They had been traveling with mountains on both sides for a few hours now. To their right lay the upper reaches of the Borderlands that flowed into the mountains lining the entire northern coast of The Three Corners. Carved into the mountainside was an enormous stone gateway. Emariya knew from her lessons as a child that no one knew who had built the ancient structure. It was revered by both the people of Thalmas and those of Eltar. The pass was universally respected as the border between the two lands. It was also the only logical crossing point directly between Eltar and Thalmas if one wanted to avoid going through Sheas first. Up this far, the Borderlands were, for all intents, impassable, and if you went much farther south you would hit the Cradle of the Three, the small triangle of land just north of the river where all three lands came together.

Carved into each side of the stone pass were words in an ancient language. At the height of the pass on the highest stone, a marking was still visible. Three symbols were connected by a crude triangle. At the top was a rudimentary eye. On the bottom right was an ear and on the bottom left a hand. Some believed that if your heart were open, when you crossed under the pass, you would hear the voices of your ancestors. Emariya thought that was likely just an old tale intended to make those who had died seem not quite so gone. But there was no denying that there was definitely something reverent and almost eerie about the enormous stone structure. Dismounting, she walked tentatively forward.

The steadily falling snow coated her pale blue velvet cloak with a dusting of white, as pure as the delicate crystal beads embroidered upon her soft white gown. Tiny flakes clung in the strands of her hair, as if making a halo of snow. Her face was pale from the cold, except for a tiny flush of color on her cheeks. She looked as if she could have been made of ice, herself, as she walked forward. Something about this place made her feel incredibly serene. The immovable stone of the gate rose up before her, asking if she were truly sure of her choice. She was a child of Eltar. If she so desired, she could still turn back and return to Warren's Rest, having never truly left her home. At the same time, the icy stone gate was a visible reminder of the choice she was making. Behind her lay everything that had been hers, all that she had known. Ahead waited the unknown, but yet the promised. If she continued forward, soon the land ahead of her would be hers, as well.

“
Give her a moment,” Jessa murmured sympathetically behind her, keeping Rink and Khane at bay.

Emariya stepped steadily toward the pass. Stopping just in front of it, she reached cautiously toward the words carved in the stone. Acting without thought, searching without knowing what she sought, she wasn't sure what she was hoping to achieve. Relentlessly, the stone called to her. Its undeniable pull drew her in. Closer. She moved forward again until her feet could move no more. Rooted in place by an impossible force, she brushed her fingertips against the words, clearing away the snow. Time had eroded bits of the stone from the ancient carved letters, leaving her unable to make out any of what they had once said.

Fear nagged in the hidden recesses of her mind, warning her that if she crossed this threshold, she would never return again. She already missed her home. “I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do this,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Daughter of stone, child of two. Choose your path and the way will open to you.
She jerked her hand back. The stone felt warm beneath her hand.

“
We can turn back if it's what you wish, Emariya. We don't have to do this, you know.” At some point, Jessa had come up behind her quietly. “But the choice has got to be yours.”

“
I don't have a choice,” Emariya said, taking a shaky step back from the wall. “I have a responsibility. To Eltar. To my father. We have to go forward, to Thalmas. There is no other way. I'll do my part. I must.”

“
You always have a choice. Only you can chose your path,” Jessa said.

Emariya laughed, her tension broken by the implausibility of it. “Yeah, that's what the stone said, too.”

“
What?” Jessa asked sharply.

“
I could have sworn I heard something from the stone.” Emariya sounded crazy, even to her own ears, so she couldn't blame Jessa for the look she was giving her. But what she loved about her friend was that as crazy as it sounded, she looked more worried than doubtful.

“
Emariya, if you don't want to marry him…we could try and go south, see if we could rescue your father ourselves. Your uncle might be willing to listen; you are family, after all.”

For a moment Emariya considered it, then, slowly, she shook her head. “No, I don't think he would listen, and even if he would, I've given my word that I would go and marry Torian. I won't go back on it. We will continue to Castle Ahlen.”

With a final touch to the stone, she slowly stepped forward into the rocky pass, each step leaving Eltar farther behind her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

What Once Were One Split Thrice

“
What brings you this way?” The man who asked seemed to be the one in charge. After being found in the woods, Garith had accompanied the short man back to his camp, where seven other men waited. They all wore the same brown cloaks draped importantly from their shoulders. Each cloak was clasped at the neck by a golden pin, which depicted a broken circle. Their clothes carried the dust of cloth not washed any time in recent history.
Did these men live in the woods?
He had been trying to figure out who they were, or even where they were from, but so far Garith couldn't tell. The man held his stick towards the fire. Grease dripped rhythmically to the ground from the flank of venison dangling from it, sizzling enticingly over the hot flames. The sweet aroma of the freshly cooked meat left Garith’s mouth watering.

“
You don't need to be afraid, boy. We mean you no harm.” Judging by the man's grin, Garith wasn't sure he believed him, but he couldn't think of anything to say but the truth.

“
I'm headed to Thalmas.” He tried to hold his chin up confidently instead of looking down at his boots.

“
Thalmas—you got business there? You don't seem like no trader, seen as you ain't carrying nothing to trade.” The men sitting around the fire laughed. The leader's smirk was getting on Garith's nerves. Still, the man appeared well hardened from a life on the road, not to mention that he was twice Garith’s age and at least a foot taller than him, to boot. He needed to keep his head.

“
Yes sir, I'm going to see the Prince.”

“
Oh the Prince, is it? You hear that boys, this one here is gonna see the Prince.” They laughed again. Grinning, he poked a knobby finger toward Garith and said, “And why is the Prince gonna want to see you?”

The heat was rising in his ears, and before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out. “Yes, the Prince! My friend, Lady Warren, is going to marry him, and I'm going to see that she makes out all right. She'll likely take me into her service as a blacksmith, like my father.”

Suddenly the men were paying attention. The man in charge sat up a bit straighter.

What had he done? He could’ve kicked himself. He'd come chasing after Emariya, afraid of what would happen if people found out about her journey, and here he'd just gone and spread the news himself. At least these men didn't look like scouts or raiders from Sheas.

“
Lady Warren, you say? Of Warren's Rest in Eltar?” the man in charge asked with a friendly smile. He stood from his place by the fire and came to extend a hand to Garith. “Seems I forgot my manners. Name's Russell.”

“
You know her?” Still cautious, Garith shook the man's outstretched hand.

“
I can't say that I do. But I believe I knew her parents. Lady Valencia Roth and Lord Oren Warren, I presume? Can you tell me, how do they fare?” Taking his place back by the fire Russell gestured to an open spot next to him, inviting Garith to sit.

Starting to feel more at ease, Garith went and sat. Oh, the warmth of the fire felt good. “I'm sad to say Lady Valencia was killed many years ago.”

“
Oh, such a shame. You say ‘killed’, might I infer that hers was not a natural passing? Such a pretty girl she was.”

“
Oh yes, and everyone says her daughter is every bit her image. We've always thought it was Sheas that killed her, but no one knows for sure. Oren came home from seeing to Council business and found her cold on the floor. Emariya and her brother Reeve were lucky enough that their mother's handmaiden had kept them hidden, else they might have been taken, or worse,” Garith said, with the tone of importance one adopts when telling a great story.

“
I see. Yes, that is fortunate, for sure. What great foresight, to have hidden the children,” the man said.

“
I bet Lady Valencia used her gifts to know her fate; she used it to protect them, I reckon,” said a man from across the fire.

“
Gift?” Garith was curious.

“
Do you know of the Stones, son?” the leader asked.

Garith shook his head. The warmth of the fire was starting to seep into his bones now, and he peeled off his faded cloak so that he could lay it out to dry.

“
We don't know for sure how far back it happened, but we think it was at least three generations ago, sometime many years after The Split. Upon each of the prominent bloodlines of The Three Corners was bestowed a powerful gift. Henceforth, they were known as Cornerstones. The Ahlens of Thalmas—they received the sight of the Stones. From what we know, the sight grows more pronounced with age. They say that King Dellas has been driven mad by his visions. But those visions are his family's gift—or their curse, depending on how you see it. He is plagued by sights of what the future may bring.”

“
He can actually see the future?” Garith thought maybe the man was fooling him.

“
He sees something, all right. But he won't talk about what he sees, so no one really knows if what he sees actually happens or not,” another man sitting near the fire spoke up.

Another man nodded as he added his thoughts, saying, “I don't think I'd want to see what was to come. Imagine knowing when you or your little 'uns would die? Ain't no wonder he's addled in the brain. These times, it’s hard enough to see what is, much less to think of what’s to come.”

Garith spoke up. “Well, maybe he could see that things will improve?”

“
A fine notion, son, but I don't think we're likely to see things get better anytime soon,” Russell said gravely. “If what you say is true, and a Warren is intending to marry an Ahlen, things are about to get a whole lot worse.”