Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles (18 page)

Aidan chewed thoughtfully. He and Daniel had been through a lot recently, but even Aidan was having trouble believing everything that was happening. Of course, Daniel had seen a vagrant with his own eyes. After something like that, what wouldn’t he believe?

He took a breath. “Since my ceremony, I’ve been hearing a voice in my head. At first I thought maybe I was just hearing things. A couple of weeks ago, I found the source of the voice.” He reached beside him to grip the sword, pulled it from its sheath, and held it before him.

Daniel let out a low whistle. “I saw Heritage last night, but we had more pressing concerns so I didn’t bring it up.” He looked at Aidan with wide eyes. “Why do you have it?”

“Because according to Heritage, I am the sword-bearer.”

Daniel’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s impossible. I saw what happened the day of your ceremony. The sword rejected you.”

Irritation clawed at Aidan. “I know. I was there, remember?”

“And your mother is the sword-bearer,” Daniel continued, oblivious to his friend’s reaction. “Shouldn’t the sword be with her?”

“I don’t know why she—”

“And why would—”

“I don’t know!” Aidan shouted.

Daniel coughed again and looked away, scratching at his cheek.

“I don’t know what’s happening or why,” Aidan said in a whisper, looking into the flames. “I only know that the sword told me to travel south and find someone called the Prophet. And since I have no home and nowhere else to go, I’m going to do as it says.” Silence stretched out between them.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just surprised, is all. Everything’s happening so fast.”

“For you and me both,” Aidan snapped. Daniel drew back, looking hurt.

—He didn’t deserve that,
Heritage said.

Aidan felt shame and embarrassment boil up. He started to apologize when Daniel froze.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?” Aidan said. Then he did hear something, a muffled crunch from above. Another crunch, louder this time, then again and again in a steady cadence. Footsteps.

Aidan kindled and the fire shrank to a small flame. A faint shaft of light filtered down through the entrance. He crawled over and pressed his back to one side of the mouth. It was wet and slippery; the fire had melted the ice coating the wall. Daniel crouched opposite him, one hand clenched around his dagger, the other corked over his mouth to bottle another cough.

The footsteps paused outside the entrance. Keeping still, Aidan held his breath. After several moments, the footsteps moved slowly away.

A cough erupted from Daniel. Muffling a curse, the Wardsman ducked his head into his arm and continued hacking. The footsteps rushed back, then paused. A long moment stretched out. Then scratching noises and deep breathing reached his ears, coming closer and closer down the shaft.

Aidan glanced at Daniel. The Wardsman’s face was tight.

Aidan raised three fingers. “On three,” he mouthed. “One. Two—”

A skull head popped out of the opening. Roaring, Aidan brought Heritage crashing down, shattering the skull. The vagrant crumpled. Aidan’s momentum carried him forward. He stumbled on the body and almost crashed on top of it. A hand pulled him upright.

“We need to get out of here,” Daniel said hoarsely.

“Hold on,” Aidan said. Closing his eyes, he pictured the thicket where Daniel had emerged with their food, and kindled from the tiny flame. Wind rushed around him. He opened his eyes just as Daniel whispered a curse and pulled him to the ground behind a tree. Peering around, Aidan saw several other Wardsmen moving through the woods. Each grunted like an animal scrounging for dinner as they stomped around, heads whipping this way and that to peer around trees. Their eyes were blank and cloudy. Vagrants.

Focusing on the farthest point north of their location that he could see, Aidan clasped Daniel’s wrist and shifted again. Dizziness swarmed over him.

—You need to take it easy
, the grandmotherly voice reminded him.

“Come on,” he said, rising and breaking into a run. “Let’s keep moving.”

Daniel followed, coughing every step of the way.

Chapter 17

Whites of His Eyes

B
Y DAY
,
THEY TRAVELED
, keeping off the main road and sticking to tree cover when possible. The bare trees provided little protection against the cold; Aidan cast heat bubbles for both men and made small fires for meals. Save for the crunch of their footsteps through the snow, Aidan and Daniel were as silent as the land was still. Aidan realized his outburst in the cave had been unfair to Daniel, and that he should be the one to break the silence first. But the longer he allowed the silence to stretch, the less sure he was how to broach it. He wasn’t angry with Daniel at all, really. He wasn’t even frustrated with him. He was frustrated with Heritage. The sword instructed them to journey south, but where were they going
exactly
? When did they need to get there? And why did the sword only see fit to answer one or two questions at a time when they had hours upon hours with nothing to do but run, hide, and talk?

Daniel hunted game whenever they stopped, but the meals were always eaten in silence. Three times each day, Aidan awkwardly took hold of Daniel’s arm and shifted—first using the light stored up in the lamp, twice drawing from the Lady. They devoured ground, skipping over several miles with each jump. Even so, Aidan grumbled. He wanted to jump further, but he could feel the fever ebb overnight then trickle back in, stronger after each shift.

By night, they camped wherever they found shelter, taking turns holding watch while the other slept for a few hours. Aidan slept first, making sure to keep his body rested so he was ready for the next day’s shifts. He tried apologizing when Daniel woke him for his turn at watch, but Daniel immediately curled up in his cloak and turned away. The only words they exchanged were directed not at each other, but at the sky. “The Lady rises and burns away the night,” they said by rote at first light each morning. Then they packed what little supplies they had brought and resumed their silent march.

On the evening of the sixth day after they’d fled the cave, Aidan stopped in the middle of picking his way down a slippery hill and took Daniel’s arm.

“I’m sorry.”

—There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Daniel doubled over coughing, waving him away. “Forget about it,” he said, turning to spit. He gave Aidan a wan grin. “I shouldn’t have asked so many questions.”

“I really didn’t mind,” Aidan said, smiling back. Apologizing had left him feeling better, lighter, than any amount of sleep. “I just don’t know the answers, either,” he went on, throttling the sword hilt.

—Ouch,
Heritage said, sounding bored.

Oh, shut up.

“We’ll figure everything out,” Daniel said. “For now, let’s just find a place to sleep.”

“Preferably someplace indoors,” Aidan said, frowning at his friend. “You look terrible. No offense.”

Daniel started to insist that he was fine but stepped forward a bit too quickly, lost his balance, tumbled into Aidan, and sent them both rolling down the hill in a flurry of shouts and snow. As he rose and dusted himself off, Aidan let out a great laugh, his first in weeks, and pulled his friend to his feet. Daniel let out a gruff “Thanks” and trudged forward.

They continued on for three more days, using the long poles for support as they hiked up and down an endless spread of rolling hills. At twilight on the ninth day, just as they were making their way up another small hill, Daniel stopped and turned, looking back the way they had come.

“What is it?” Aidan asked.

Chewing his lip, Daniel scanned the land behind them. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Aidan looked around nervously, hand going to his sword hilt. Daniel jabbed his rabbit-roaster-turned-walking-staff into the ground thoughtfully before resuming their trek.

The wind gained speed over the next few hours, whipping at their cloaks and snatching away breath. By evening, small flurries of flakes leaked from the darkening sky.

“We’re going to want to find cover soon,” Daniel said.

Aidan pointed ahead. “I think I see a village.”

Daniel frowned. “If we’re going to be ambushed by walking corpses again, I’d rather be hiding among trees than caught inside,” he said hoarsely.

“We’re staying indoors tonight,” Aidan said firmly.

Daniel started to protest before breaking down in a fit of coughing. “I don’t want to slow us down.”

“You think I’m worried about you?” Aidan said, and tried to laugh off his concern. “Staying in an inn means lanterns, candles, hearths—plenty of light I can use should anything happen.”

Daniel nodded weakly. Less than an hour later they entered the village. Quaint houses spread out in neat rows, their roofs thick and sloped to dump snow to the ground. Not that much covered the ground. In every Torelian city, a handful of Touched, usually first-year Learners at the Lion’s Den and other universities, encased themselves in heat bubbles and walked up and down the streets, melting the snow to keep the lanes clear. Soft lantern light glowed through frosted windows. They came to a stop in front of a large brick building. A wooden board with
Hornet’s Nest
carved into it hung above the entrance. After examining the board for a moment, Daniel pointed to one corner of the sign and turned to his friend, one eyebrow lifted. Aidan leaned in closer then recoiled. The mark showed a snake coiled around a dagger. The Sallnerian serpent.

Not all Sallnerians stayed in their assigned Territory Bridge communities. Many southerners settled in Torel, Leaston, or Darinia—a rare occurrence, given the west’s hundreds of miles of deserts—but were required to show the mark on their homes and establishment to reveal their nationality. Aidan remembered reading about an outbreak of disease some four hundred years ago in the east. Torelian healers had etched a skull on the door of every home where the infected lay dead or dying. Uninfected would cross the street at the first sign of the skull, afraid that even touching the door would strike them down. Spotting the Sallnerian serpent had a similar effect.

Aidan looked from the sign to Daniel’s pale face. “It’s the only inn we’ve seen so far.”

Daniel nodded and turned the knob before glancing again at Aidan. “Better cover your face. I can’t imagine you’d be popular with the clientele.”

Aidan donned his hood and they ducked inside.

A tiny, unlit hearth left the room nearly as cold as the outdoors. A few large men—Sallnerians all, marked by their brown skin and almond-shaped eyes—sat at the bar staring into dirty mugs. The walls were scuffed and discolored with dried splotches of booze, likely scars from where mugs had shattered during tavern brawls. A pungent miasma of pipe weed hung over pockmarked benches and tables. In the corner near the hearth, a group of boys with dirt-smudged faces and wearing ratty clothes threw a pair of dice against the wall.

The innkeeper, a scrawny fellow whose oily skin shone in the room’s dim lighting, was bent over wiping stains from the counter as they approached. Glancing up, his frown stretched into a lopsided grin when he noticed the jewel-encrusted hilt of Aidan’s sword.

“Welcome to the Nest,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“Help you?”

“We’re looking for a room,” Daniel said.

“You Wardsmen?” the skinny man asked, nodding to Daniel’s partially concealed armor. The “H” across his chest was just viewable.

Daniel shrugged open his cloak. “We are. You’d do well to show proper respect to Crown’s men.”

The innkeeper absently batted at a wisp of greasy hair. “You got coin?”

Daniel drew three gold coins marked with the serpent from his pouch and tossed them onto the counter. The innkeeper snatched them up before they could clink twice against the counter and held them up to a lantern. His face drooped in a pout. “Southern coin?”

“That’s more than enough, I’m sure,” Daniel said, then motioned for Aidan to follow him as he made his way to the back of the common room.

Daniel signaled to the serving girl as they sat on opposite sides of a table. Aidan kept his head down as he peered about the room, hoping no one had taken special interest during their exchange with the innkeeper. He didn’t need anyone getting ideas about slitting their throats and robbing them while they slept. After a quick look around, he let himself breathe easier. None of the men at the bar had looked up, the innkeeper had gone back to polishing dirt, and the boys in the corner whispered among themselves and threw their dice, the cubes rattling against the wall and floor.

“Would you like to get some food, or...?” Aidan asked. Daniel wasn’t paying attention. He was watching the youths thoughtfully. Aidan tapped the table. His friend jumped, startled.

“Hmm?” Daniel said. “Food? No, that’s all right.” He turned back to the dice game. Another throw sent the cubes rattling against the walls and floor. One of the boys looked over and flashed his hands at his friends. The boys glanced their way but continued throwing their dice. “Unless you’re hungry,” Daniel went on absently. “I’m more thirsty.”

“All right. I’ll see about—”

The door banged open, letting in a gust of snow and a shrill howl of wind. A man and a woman bundled up in cloaks entered. They were silent as they crossed the room to sit at a table directly opposite the two friends. The woman shrugged out of her cloak to reveal a head of long, silky black hair. She inclined her head to her companion as he took her cloak, then slid onto a bench with her back to Aidan and crossed her legs. Her companion, his hair blonde and pulled back in a ponytail, hung their belongings on a peg and sat, leaning in to hear what she was saying.

Aidan frowned. Something about the woman tickled the back of his mind.

“Hey, did you notice...?” He looked up but Daniel was gone, striding across the room and kneeling to talk with the boys. To Aidan’s astonishment, Daniel peeled off his gloves, dug into his purse, and held up a coin—a
square
coin. One of the boys took the coin, turned it over, bit it, and handed it back, nodding to the others. Daniel tucked it away and made a series of gestures, his hands a blur. The boys glanced at each other and gestured back. While Daniel’s fingers waggled, one of the boys stood, slipped behind the bar unnoticed, and crept back with parchment, an inkpot, and a quill.