Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles (20 page)

—All of your questions will be answered, but only if you continue south to the Prophet.

I already told you, I need to get home to—

—Home is dangerous, Aidan. You have seen that. Also, your family is not there. Please. For now, I ask that you trust me.

Aidan thought for a moment.
Will you answer more of my questions?

—The Prophet will answer—

Rage and desperation, blacker than the despair he’d felt when he’d lost control at Sharem, swept through him.
No. You’ve had me waiting and running for days. I’m exhausted, I’m angry, and... and I’m afraid. Give me answers or I turn around and go home.

—Very well. But not now.

When?

—Later tonight. I promise.

Aidan focused on Daniel. “It has something to do with wielding Heritage.”

“Oh,” Daniel said faintly. “I suppose that’s fine, then.”

Adjusting his hood, Aidan strode to the innkeeper. The bony man had turned a pale shade of gray. Aidan leaned in close to the cowering man. “I trust that while we sleep tonight, none of your large friends will mistakenly enter the wrong room.”

“N-no, sir. I’ll m-make sure of it.”

“Good,” Aidan replied. Then he had an idea. He bowed his head, gripped Heritage, blinked, and slowly raised his eyes. The innkeeper took one look at his eyes and let out a terrified shriek, dashing through the doorway behind the bar.

—Oh, that was fun
, the grandmotherly voice said.

With a grim smile, Aidan motioned for Daniel to follow him. They bounded up the stairs.

Down in the empty common room, the Torelian man and Sallnerian woman sat forgotten. They shared a look, then the man reached down to kiss his companion’s hand and made his way up the stairs. The woman continued to sit, studying the severed hand, and thinking.

Chapter 18

Whispers in the Night

A
IDAN TOSSED AND TURNED
a few more times before sitting up. He looked across the room. In another narrow bed, Daniel mumbled in his sleep and coughed softly. Swinging his legs to the floor, Aidan dressed and took Heritage from beneath his pillow. Pulling his hood down over his eyes, Aidan tip-toed to the door, cringing with every creaky step, eased it open, and closed it gently behind him.

Wind shook the Hornet Nest’s thin walls as he made his way down the stairs. The common room was dark but for lanterns that cast flickering pools of light on every other tabletop. Aidan grabbed a lantern and made his way to a booth against the far wall with a perfect view of the front door, the stairs, and the door behind the bar. He sat down, tugged away his hood, and placed Heritage and the lamp on his table.

I didn’t wake you, did I?
he asked.

—Not at all. I don’t need to sleep.

Good. You said we would talk more later if I chose not to leave. It’s later.

—So it is. You can speak aloud if you like. We are quite alone.

Aidan winced. “I feel funny talking to you out loud.”

—I’m hurt.

“You know what I mean.”

—I suppose I do, though I don’t understand why it bothers you so much. You are partaking in one of the most intriguing traditions of your family. I would think your embarrassment would be dampened by your fascination.

“Are you one of my ancestors, then?”

—No.

“Then who are you?”

—That question will be answered in due time. What others do you have?

Aidan sifted through his many inquiries. “Why do my eyes glow when I wield you? And my vision change—does all of that have to do with
Ordine’kel
?”

—Actually, no. Gairdens who were gifted with only one half of
Ordine
did not experience what you have. It is, as with so many things of late, unique to you.

“Why?”

—I will answer the ‘why’ regarding the vision shift you experience, but as for why so many unique events are happening to you, that is better left for another conversion.

“Fair enough.”

—In short, when you combine
’cin
and
’kel
, you are tapping the full potential of the Lady of Dawn herself.

He expelled his breath in a slow whoosh. “Do you mean to tell me that I can channel the power of a goddess?” Heritage was silent for a moment.

—I mean you are the most powerful
human
to have ever existed. You were strong before; you are even more so, now. Your vision changes because...
The sword paused.
Because the Sight, as I call it, is perfect, allowing you to see what is truly there.

Aidan was speechless. He thought back to his confrontation with the vagrant posing as his mother. When he’d embraced
Ordine’kel,
its true face had been revealed as if its mask did not exist.

—You are rightfully impressed.

“Why me?”

—As I said, we will discuss that in due time. There is one other significant facet to the full
Ordine
gift. Because you did not tap into
Ordine’kel
before accepting Heritage, your access to
’kel
is dependent upon holding Heritage.

“And
Ordine’cin
is always available to me because I was born with it.”

—Correct.

He pondered what he had learned over the past several days. “The way you and I talk. Is that how sword-bearers communicate with our ancestors?”

—Primarily. There is another method, but that, too, is best saved for another chat.

“What about when a Gairden undergoes the Rite of Heritage, accepting the position of sword-bearer from a Gairden who is still alive? Does the previous sword-bearer lose communication with the sword?”

—Yes... in a manner of speaking.

“So my mother can no longer communicate with her ancestors?”

Heritage did not respond.

Aidan banged his fist on the table, sending Heritage and the lantern ratting against the wood. “Why won’t you answer?”

—Because it is a very complicated matter. We’ll discuss it soon.

“Why not now?”

—You are not ready.

“I am tired of everyone telling me what I
am
and am
not
ready for.”

—I thought you preferred to have all your affairs handled for you. Minimal effort, minimal responsibility. Isn’t that your way of life?

Aidan closed his eyes, seeing the shocked faces of the clansmen at Sharem, heard their screams as they were burned alive and ripped apart. He remembered the odor of burning flesh, their blackened hands outstretched in unanswered pleas for mercy.

“Not anymore.”

—
I am happy to hear that, Aidan.

They were silent for a few moments.

“So,” he said, steeling himself, “if I’m the sword-bearer, then my mother is not.” He thought back to the corpse that had worn his mother’s face in the sword chamber. “Something has happened to her. Why was she demoted? Where is she?”

Silence.

Aidan’s eyes stung as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s my fault. Whatever’s happened to her is my fault.”

—You have told me what you find tiring. Would you like to know what I find tiring?

He didn’t answer.

—Your constant desire to make everything about you.

“You don’t understand. This
is
my fault. I—”

—No, Aidan, it is
not
your fault. Everything always has to be about you, doesn’t it? Good things, bad things—they
must
have something to do with you. Stop wallowing in self-pity, child. It is past time you grew up.

Aidan stared open-mouthed.

—I am proud that you have decided to think for yourself and take matters into your own hands. But this is not only about you, Aidan. Do not presume to make it so.

“I just want to understand.”

—You will, in due time.
But for now, will you swear to never forget what I’m about to tell you?

Aidan nodded.

—Your parents love you dearly. They always have, and they always will. Never forget that.

He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

—I believe that’s enough for tonight. Get some rest for the journey ahead.

Suddenly flooded with weariness, Aidan pushed himself from the table and gathered Heritage. There were other questions to ask, but they could wait. Replacing Heritage at his side, he began to cross the common room when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The dark-haired woman from earlier that night entered, then stopped when she saw him, startled.

“I guess I’m not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight,” she said, smiling. Her hair bobbed against her shoulders as she strode toward him. Her wool tunic and trousers were simple, clothes meant more for riding than time spent in palace courts, yet the plainness of her garments was offset by rings adorning each finger that glittered in the room’s dim lighting. A golden bracelet, which Aidan recognized as the unmatched craftsmanship of the Darinian smiths of Zellibar, jangled on her wrist.

Aidan smiled and nodded, preparing to move around her toward the stairs, when she reached out and placed her hand on his wrist.

“Would you mind keeping me company? My brother is asleep, and I’m a bit restless.”

“I’m rather tired,” he began.

“I’ll only keep you for a short while,” she promised, flashing another dazzling smile. It was beautiful—but there was something familiar about it as well, he noted. The soft touch of her fingers decided for him. He sat down at the nearest table, carefully setting Heritage on the bench beside him after he was settled.

“Thanks,” she said as she sat across from him. “I’m Christine.” She extended her hand.

Taking her hand, Aidan began to voice his own name before instead saying, “Thomas.” It came out awkwardly, as if it was a word he’d just learned and was having difficulty pronouncing.

She held his gaze and his hand for a few long moments then retracted her arm to fold her hands on the table. “Nice to meet you. Thomas.”

Aidan felt a moment of panic when he realized his face was not concealed. His hand twitched, wanting to pull down the hood of his cloak, but he resisted. It would seem too suspicious now, and she didn’t seem to recognize him, covered as he was in dirt and muck picked up from travel.

“I’m surprised you want to talk with me,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Because you’re Sallnerian, and I’m Torelian, and civil conversation just won’t do,
he thought. “After what happened earlier tonight, people seem eager to stay as far away as possible,” he said instead.

“Except for your friend,” she noted.

“He wouldn’t be a friend, otherwise.”

“Good point. I assume it was magic you were using?”

“Yes.”

“I am also one of the Touched.” She held out her right hand. Among the ornately crafted rings inset with different jewels was the gold loop and purple stone of a Cinder Band, which occupied her forefinger.

“Where did you train?” he asked her.

“At the Lion’s Den in Sharem.”

“Ah,” Aidan replied, eager to steer the conversation away from that particular city. To his delight she seemed to pick up on his discomfort.

“Where are you from?” she asked. “You look Torelian.”

Aidan hesitated. She seemed nice enough, but the less anyone knew about him, the better. “From Torel, yes. Now I’m a vagabond.” It was true to a degree. “I have no home.”

She made a sound of understanding. “My brother and I have traveled the world since childhood. I paid for my education as I earned a living: spent time learning, then spent time working, and so forth. It took a long time, but I did it.”

He nodded. “If I may ask, weren’t your parents able to help with your education?”

She lowered her eyes. “My mother died when I was very young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” she said, unperturbed. “Garrett and I stayed with our father for a year or so, but we don’t really get along with him.”

Aidan nodded.
The man with her in the common room.
He felt oddly relieved. He opened his mouth to say something, but yawned instead. “Sorry. I’m afraid my travels are catching up to me.”

“Not a problem,” Christine said, again flashing that enchanting smile. “Thanks for entertaining me for a bit.”

“It was my pleasure.” He lifted Heritage from the bench and rose. “Goodnight, Christine.” He got about halfway across the room before she spoke again.

“Thomas,” she called, and it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. He turned. Rising from the table, she sauntered toward him with a lopsided smile.

“Since we’re both travelers, I wonder...” She paused, and a slight blush spread over her cheeks. Aidan was surprised; blushing didn’t seem like the sort of reaction she had very often. He found himself smiling. She wore the blush well.

“Would you and your friend like to travel with Garrett and me?” she continued.

“That’s a nice offer, Christine, but—”

“We travel all over, like I told you,” she said in a rush. “We perform a small magic show in every city and village we come to. We have our own group, just the two of us, called Spectacle. We’d be happy to have you both.” She winced. “I apologize for rambling, I’m not used to... never mind.” The blush spread further.

Aidan gave her an easy smile. “I do appreciate the offer, Christine. But I’m afraid I can’t accept. I have somewhere I have to be.”

“Oh. All right,” she said, giving him a bright smile.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. But my friend and I have plans that cannot be broken.”

“I understand.”

“Maybe we will meet again,” he said, and he hoped it was true. “Now just isn’t a good time. It was nice to meet you, Christine.”

The crash and yell from downstairs brought Aidan and Daniel awake with a start. Raising a finger to his lips, Aidan grabbed Heritage, dashed into the hall, and peered down the stairs. The inn door lay in pieces across the floor. Howling wind vomited snow through the doorway. There were Wardsmen in the room, five of them that Aidan could see, each looking around with flat, dead eyes. Aidan grabbed the hilt and tapped into
’kel.
The Sight stripped the human faces from the vagrants. Aidan cursed under his breath. How did they
always
manage to find him?