Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles (15 page)

—Don’t think. Keep moving.

It’s not her?

—No. I promise. Now go.

Where?

—Out the side entrance on the east side. Go, and be on the lookout. More will come.

Wiping his boot along the floor, Aidan touched the door and peeked out. The corridor was empty. He started off in a crouch, moving as quietly as he could, avoiding the revealing light of torches when he was able, inching his way closer to the east wing.

Memories of the past month crept into his thoughts as he picked his way from shadow to shadow. He saw the faces of the clansmen at Sharem, wide eyes and open mouths pleading with him to extinguish the pure-fire that burned the flesh from their bodies, the lightning that shattered bodies like an axe shattered a log. His lips throbbed as he recalled his father striking him. Unbidden, his mother’s severed head floated into his vision. Aidan gritted his teeth against the image.
That wasn’t her.

Footsteps reached his ears. At least three pairs, all in step and growing closer. He ducked into an alcove and waited until a trio of Wardsmen marched by and around a bend. Slinking out, he set off again.

“Since I’m doing what you asked,” he whispered as he crept along, “would you tell me what it is we seek in the south?”

—Not what; whom.

“All right,” Aidan whispered with forced patience. “Whom?”

—The Prophet.

“Who is the Prophet?”

But the sword had gone silent yet again.
Even more stubborn than I am,
he thought.

He finally made his way to a side door and eased it open, slipping into the night. Clouds scudded across the sky but added no snow to the ankle-deep carpet. The torches adorning the courtyard were unlit. Aidan paused, frowning. The Lord of Midnight made all men and women nervous, but the Touched especially so. Wardsmen patrolled Sunfall’s grounds all night long as much to keep torches lit as to fend off intruders. So why were these lamps unattended?

A ball of light came into view. A Wardsman emerged from the shadows, one hand holding the lantern in front of him while the other gripped the sword at his waist. Aidan squirmed, undecided. The Wardsman was probably on his way to light the lamps along the stone path that meandered through the courtyard. That would make his escape more difficult.
But what has been easy as of late?

Quietly, he started forward, sidling along the wall so the shadows covered him like a cloak. The crunch of his boots as they settled into packed snow topped with brittle ice sounded deafening in the quiet night, but he didn’t slow. Glancing at the Wardsman— he strode past him without slowing—a terrible thought struck him.
Can only Sallnerians be vagrants?

—Dark magic can raise any dead, but I suspect most do come from Dimitri Thalamahn’s reign eight hundred years past.

Could he be back, too? The Serpent King?

The sword hesitated.
—No.
It went silent.

Finally he rounded the corner and settled into the bend in the wall. He expelled his breath in a steamy puff, drinking in gulps of sweet, crisp air. He looked around to determine where to move next—and stared into the eyes of a Wardsman. The other man grinned, a humorless expression that did not fit with his soulless, dead eyes.

Eyes like his mother’s.

The vagrant issued a loud guttural sound into the night sky and raised its short double-headed axe. Aidan glanced to his right and saw the fiery light of the first Wardsman’s torch bobbing closer. No. No human would answer that call. He thought about stealing the torch’s light, but even as he did he felt his body cry out in protest. He was exhausted. Kindling so much as a spark seemed as daunting as lifting a mountain.

—You do not need magic for this.

“What do you mean?” he whispered.

Heritage rattled in its scabbard.

—Hold me and blink.

Pulling the sword free, Aidan’s hands shook as much from the effort of holding Heritage as from fear. Then he blinked. The world was awash in bright white light, the vagrants sketched in obsidian outlines. He felt his feet shift and looked down. His stance had changed, balancing his weight. He didn’t remember moving, but the stance felt natural, appropriate. The Wardsman now looked anything but natural. Their human faces had vanished, replaced by leering skulls dotted with flesh and dirt.

—Aim for their heads. No other blow can stop them.

The vagrants dropped into defensive stances of their own and split, each moving to flank him. The one on his right lunged in. Aidan parried its attack almost offhandedly, swatting it aside and keeping his focus on the second one that continued to circle. How he had anticipated the move, he couldn’t say. Spinning Heritage, Aidan drove his shoulder into the creature’s stomach. The blow sent it stumbling back as he whirled and slashed at the neck of the other vagrant. Heritage cleaved through rotten skin as if it were water. The head tumbled to the ground, settling a short distance away. The body crumpled soundlessly.

He turned to advance on the vagrant he had forced back. The creature swung its axe down. Aidan darted to one side, preparing to lunge back in.

—Behind you!

He felt a boot plant itself in his lower back. He toppled over, Heritage disappearing in a bank of snow. Instantly his vision returned to normal. A third Wardsman stepped from the shadows as Aidan lay groaning.

“Tell the master we have him,” one said. Its partner nodded, turned away, and stiffened. A spear burst through the back of its skull. The shaft tore free and the vagrant dropped, dead again.

Aidan didn’t know who had come to his rescue, and he didn’t care. He grabbed Heritage from where it had fallen beside him and blinked, barely aware of his vision returning to onyx outlines against a white field. Rising smoothly to his feet, he brought Heritage slicing across the neck of the last vagrant. It jerked, went limp, and fell.

He watched with wonder as the white glow receded, returning the world to its natural color. Exhaustion traded places with the vigor that took hold of him when he wielded the sword—which suddenly weighed as much as four blades.

Daniel stood in front of him, staring in shock at the vagrant he’d slain. The lower half of his spear, splintered in the center where it had snapped off in the vagrant’s skull, trembled in his grip. Daniel dropped it but didn’t seem to notice.

Aidan sheathed Heritage before reaching for Daniel’s shoulder. At his touch the Wardsman yelped and leaped back.

“It’s just me,” Aidan said, raising his hands.

Daniel relaxed. “Aidan,” he croaked, toeing the lopsided face of the first one he had killed. The human mask had torn free and hung loosely like molted skin. “What are those things?”

“Sallnerians. Well, they’re called vagrants, but...” He shook his head, too tired to explain.

Daniel nodded as if the answer made complete sense. His eyes widened when he saw the sword at Aidan’s side. “I saw you fight, Aidan. Some of those maneuvers would have made your father envious. But—and no offense—I’ve seen blind men swing more steadily than you.”

“I...” Aidan paused. He could see himself wielding the sword, weaving in and out of the reach of the vagrants’ weapons, but it was as though he’d
watched
the battle rather than participated in it. He could see the movements, but he didn’t understand how he had performed them. “I guess I just swung and hoped for the best.”
How in the Lady’s name did I do all that?

—Not now. Also, watch your language.

Aidan laughed helplessly.

“Are you all right?” Daniel asked, looking at him warily.

Aidan got control of himself. “Yes. Just thankful to be alive, I guess.”

“Same here.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” Aidan said, his tone serious.

“Any time,” Daniel said, forcing a grin onto his face.

Nodding, Aidan turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go away.”

“Your mother just issued orders that you are to be arrested on sight. Patrols are looking for you everywhere. And now these things...” He trailed off, gesturing at the vagrants. “What’s going on, Aidan?”

“My mother? How long ago did you see her?”

Daniel shrugged. “Not long ago. Have you seen her?”

“Sort of,” Aidan said absently.
What does he mean, do you think? My real mother, or another vagrant?

—Your real mother wouldn’t order you arrested. It’s likely that another creature already impersonates her and is looking for you. Say nothing of this to Daniel. Act natural.

Aidan didn’t see how that was possible at this point. “Did my mother explain to you why I’m to be arrested?”

“She told the search party that you assaulted your father,” Daniel said. “I volunteered to search, hoping I could find you before anyone else did.”

Aidan said nothing.

Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ve known you a long time, Aidan. I’d like to think I know you better than anyone. And I know that whatever happened to bring you to this place, right here and right now—well, you must’ve had a good reason. Wherever you have to go, and whatever you have to do, I’m with you.”

“You can’t come with me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m in trouble, Daniel. I—”

Daniel shrugged. “I’ve been in trouble before.”

“My own parents want me arrested for treason. If you come with me, you’ll be hunted, too. I can’t let that happen.”

His friend shrugged again. “I don’t care.”

Aidan sighed. “I appreciate—”

Daniel raised a hand. “You’re my friend. Whatever is happening to you, you need help. You can’t do this alone. I’m going with you.”

Chewing his lip, Aidan said, “Give me a moment.”
What should I do?
he sent to the sword.

—What you said was the truth: he will be in danger with you.

Aidan nodded. “I can’t let you come with me.”

“Funny,” Daniel said with a small smile. “I don’t remember asking for your permission. You need my help, O Mighty Prince. I’m going with you, and that’s that.”

Aidan looked at the sword, back to Daniel, and shrugged. Privately, he was thrilled. The idea of leaving everything he had ever known behind with only a talking sword for company had not exactly filled him with confidence. He started toward the gate leading down the east pass.

“We’ll probably encounter more of them along the trail,” Aidan said.

“That’s why we’re not taking the trail.”

Aidan started to ask what Daniel meant then yawned, his jaw cracking. Daniel motioned for him to follow. At the far side of the courtyard, Daniel bent over a stone bench.

“Help me with this, would you?”

Aidan’s arms felt as wobbly as his legs, but together they pushed the bench to one side. Daniel knelt, brushed away snow to reveal a slab of stone that made up part of the path that meandered through the courtyard, then, grunting, lifted it and set it to one side, revealing a square-shaped hole.

“What is that?” Aidan asked, crouching beside his friend.

“Just a tunnel I found once,” Daniel said casually.

“Where does it lead?”

“Into Calewind, right near the south gate. We might have our hands full when we get there, but I’d rather crawl on my belly like a worm than go down that pass. Nowhere to hide along the trail, right?”

“Right.”

Daniel eased himself into the hole feet-first. “Come on, then,” he called softly. Aidan went in and blinked in the dim light that Kahltan sent from high overhead. Ahead, Daniel moved in a crouch. Aidan followed. A few minutes later Daniel stopped and rapped against the rough wall to the left. Dirt and dust fell away as the wall slid to one side. They emerged in an alley near the south gate, just as Daniel had said. Aidan hid while Daniel approached the pylon looking out over the city, and the open country on the other side of the wall. A Wardsman opened the door, looked around, then waved him in. Silence for a few moments, then grunts followed by heavy thuds. Daniel peeked out the door and waved Aidan forward.

Aidan stepped over the bodies carefully. Then he recognized the men who had led him out of the city on his birthday. “Did you...?” He swallowed, unable to continue.

Daniel shook his head. “They’ll be fine.” He led them outside. “Where are we headed?”

“South.” Aidan thought about explaining, but Daniel was already walking.

“Then to the south we go.”

Aidan stepped forward. A moment later, blackness overtook him, and he felt an icy sting spread over his face.

“Are you all right?” Daniel asked, hauling Aidan up from a pile of snow.

“What happened?” Aidan asked, brushing ice and slush from his face.

“You fell over,” Daniel said. “Are you ill?”

“Tired,” he mumbled.

Daniel hoisted Aidan’s arm around his shoulder. “We’ve got to get moving.” Lips thinning, he studied the thick clouds hanging above them. As a Leastonian, Daniel could read the sky as easily as Torelian scholars drank in books. “We need to get moving. Can you walk?”

Aidan wobbled slightly, but gestured that he would be fine. “All right,” Daniel said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 14

Fire and Fishing Lines

S
NOW BEGAN SPRINKLING DOWN
less than an hour later. At first, Aidan and Daniel ignored it. They had decided to keep clear of the North Road, huffing and puffing between hilltops and picking through stretches of woods. When they crested a hilltop that overlooked the village of Gotik, Daniel asked Aidan if he wanted to stop. He proposed sneaking into the city and taking shelter in a stable, just for the night.

Aidan, bent over and wheezing, did want to stop. He wanted nothing more than to curl up right there on the hilltop and sleep. But they didn’t. Gotik was too close to Calewind. Aidan would almost certainly be recognized there. Daniel cast a nervous glance at the clouds and nodded. They steered clear of Gotik’s walls and ran on.

Within another hour, Aidan severely regretted his decision. The wind picked up, howling and stinging their ears. The curtain of snowflakes turned into a blinding torrent of stinging darts. Squinting against the onslaught, Aidan slogged forward. Ahead of him, Daniel bent into the wind, his cloak streaming out behind him like a cape.