XIII
FORWARD NOT BACKWARDS
‘NO DARKNESS FOUND us before daylight did. ‘I’d kept a weary vigil, my leg slowly mending, the cold and fatigue still threatening to drag me down into a sleep from which I might not wake. The storm rolled on unabated, but now that the black sun had raised its head, I could see a little better at least. In the distance, a broad, dark strip of frozen river snaked through the scattered pines and stubborn tundra scrub. And as I gazed upon that icy shore, I realized at last where we were. ‘“The Mère …” I breathed. ‘My thigh still ached, but the sanctus had healed the broken bone well enough.
And so, staggering to my feet, I looked around us. It had been ten years since I left this place behind me: the majestic frozen flows, the snowclad expanse, the shadow of peaks looming far to the freezing north. The land that had borne me, lit a fire inside my chest, and in the end, cast me out like a beggar into the cold.
‘“Nordlund,” I sighed. ‘At last, I’d come home. ‘A muffled shout came from the corpse behind me, followed by a horrified wail, and turning, I saw blood-streaked hands clawing their way from Fortuna’s gut. ‘“Hold on!” I called, prising the ribs and frozen flesh apart, and frost crackling, bones snapping, Dior dragged herself free of the wreckage. She was gasping, drenched in slime and blood, one side of her face swollen black and blue. As I hauled her to her feet, she looked at herself, horrified, scarred hands held out before her. It seemed she might retch.
‘“Sweet f-f-fucking M-mothermaid …” ‘“All’s well, girl. Breathe easy now.” ‘She looked to the cliffs above, the broken pine we’d smashed through, and at last, to Fortuna’s ruins. I saw her eyes close, her cheeks balloon. She fell to her
knees in pink snow, bending double. But still, she clenched her teeth, finding someplace iron deep inside and swallowing hard. I tore off Fortuna’s blanket, wiped the worst of the gore off her skin as she heaved and swallowed again.
‘“Can you walk?” ‘“W-where?” she whispered. ‘“That’s the Mère River. We’re close to Aveléne. I can carry you if you’ve a
need.” ‘“And who’s going to c-carry you?” lle ‘I waved vaguely. “A technicality, MLachance.” ‘Dior managed a smile at that. And I watched, marvelling as she dragged gore-streaked hair from swollen eyes and stood on shaking legs. ‘“We’ve come this f-far. Forward, not backwards.” ‘She scrubbed her skin and hair in the snow as best she could, and I handed over her boots and clothes. Dior kissed her fingertips, kneeling to press them to Fortuna’s cheek, and I could see tears in her eyes as she murmured thanks. It might’ve seemed a foolish thing to some – for this girl to cry over a horse she barely knew when she’d lost so much already. But in truth, we weep not for those departed, but for we who remain. And it’s ever best to take the time to say goodbye. All too often, fate robs us of the chance. ‘We kept to the banks, Dior and I limping side by side. This part of the river was once rushing rapids, frozen now into a still life, in stasis, like the things yet hunting us. I looked to the ridge above, the frost behind, knowing he was still back there. I could feel him now, drawing close, cold and relentless as the snows. The storm rolled on, chilling us to the bone. A snow hawk circled overhead, almost lost against the grey skies. ‘Four days we walked those banks, and by the end, we were both fit to fall.
But finally, cresting a snaking bend, I took Dior’s hand and pointed. “Look!” ‘A jagged mont rose up from the Mère’s shoreline like a tower to heaven.
Good, thick walls encircled the base, and on the road spiralling up its slopes, little houses stood; solid Nordlund stone with black tiled roofs. Atop the chill rock loomed a castle carved of the same dark basalt it stood upon. ‘“Château Aveléne,” I breathed. ‘It had seen better days, to be sure – no enchanted castle from a faerie story, nor a place a king would gladly hang his crown. Aveléne was a grim, foreboding place, keeping stoic watch over the frozen river snaking from the north. But any light was welcome in a sea of darkness, and even from the valley below, we could see tiny flames upon the walls that told us here, despite all odds, humanity endured.
‘“Who built this place?” Dior whispered. ‘“An old Nordling king,” I told her. “Centuries past. Lorenzo the Fair, his name. He intended this castle as a gift for his bride on the arrival of their first child. But Lorenzo’s queen and the babe both died in the birth. She lies buried within, along with the child she bore. The castle still bears her name to this day.
Aveléne.” ‘“You’ve been here before?” ‘“Years back,” I nodded. “Astrid and I stopped here, after we left San Michon.
She was heavy with Patience by then, and there were few places in the empire that would’ve welcomed us in our disgrace. But within these walls, we found sanctuary. Peace. It may not look much, but the two happiest days of my life, I
had right here.” ‘Dior met my eyes. “You mean …” ‘I nodded and swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat.
Thumb running across the tattoos on my fingers as the echoes of laughter rang in my head. ‘“This is where Astrid and I were wed. And where Patience was born.” ‘We trudged up from the frozen bank, past a long wooden pier, now mired in the ice. Barges were dragged up onto the shoreline, and heavy sleds were now lashed to the jetty instead of boats. The snow sat two feet deep, and the going was slow, but at last we hitched up outside the trench and walls encircling the mont. Braziers burned along the battlements, crossbowmen with quarrels dipped in pitch stood the watch. My heart lifted to see it – not a muddy village with a palisade of twigs, nor a gutted monastery with corpses on the walls. But the first true sanctuary we’d found since we left Sūdhaem. ‘“Hold!” cried a voice from above the gates. “Who goes?” ‘She was a stout Nordish lass, dark of hair and pale of skin. She watched as I pulled the glove off my left hand with my teeth, held my palm up in the freezing
air. ‘“A friend,” I called. ‘The lass looked me over, scowling. “If you knew our capitaine, Frère, you’d know how little weight that star holds beyond these walls. No friend of Aveléne bears it.” ‘“I know your capitaine, mademoiselle,” I replied. “Better than most. I pray you run now, and bring news that Gabriel de León is come to see him.” ‘“The Black Lion …” someone whispered. ‘The watchlass looked me over, growled to the boy beside her. “Run, Victor.” ‘We stood in the freezing cold below the walls, Dior shivering on my shoulder, my breath frozen at my lips. I was relieved beyond measure to be here,
shoulder, my breath frozen at my lips. I was relieved beyond measure to be here, but as I looked at the youngsters along the battlements, my guilt gnawed me to see it – this tiny spark of light to which we’d brought such danger. I could only hope my friends would understand the peril we faced, and why I’d dragged it to
their door. ‘Truthfully, we had nowhere else to go. ‘After an age, I heard metal on metal, a dim cry. And with the splintering of ice upon frozen hinges, the drawbridge lowered. I saw a figure, broad- shouldered, dark-skinned, squeezing through the gates before they were barely open, and in a rush, he was running at me, his smile so bright it almost made me cry. He was older now, as we all were, flecks of grey at his temples, a few wrinkles in mahogany skin. But damned if he wasn’t still as handsome as he’d been the day I walked into his armoury all those years ago. ‘“LITTLE LION!” Baptiste roared. ‘He crashed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs as he roared. And I laughed as he lifted me off the ground, howling, and Great Redeemer, the joy in his eyes was enough to break my heart. I simply held on, tight as I dared, his baritone deep in my chest as he bellowed my name, and God, try though I did, I couldn’t hold back my tears. ‘Baptiste let me down after an age, and he kissed me on both cheeks, bewildered. “Good God Almighty,” he breathed. “I never thought to see you again, brother.” ‘“Nor I you,” I grinned. “But never in my life have I been happier to be wrong.” ‘“Admitting you were mistaken?” came a voice. “Well, that’s a first, sure and true.” ‘I looked beyond Baptiste’s shoulder, and saw him striding across the drawbridge towards me. As princely as he’d ever been: long golden hair swept back from his scarred brow and cheek, his jaw set, his features proud. But his eyes were tempered with wisdom now, shining with tears as he opened his arms.
‘“Fairdawning, Peasant,” Aaron grinned. ‘“Godmorrow, Lordling,” I laughed. ‘And he threw his arms around my shoulders and dragged me into an embrace, and all the years between us were nothing then. We were but boys again, paleblood born, brothers-in-arms, who’d stood side by side and stared into the face of hell together. Hard as iron. Strong as silversteel. Still unconquered. ‘“It’s so fucking good to see you, brother,” I whispered. ‘“And you, brother,” Aaron breathed, his voice breaking. ‘I grabbed his cheeks, pressed our foreheads together. And at last, reluctantly, he broke from my embrace. “Last we heard, you were down in Sūdhaem with
he broke from my embrace. “Last we heard, you were down in Sūdhaem with your wife and girl. What in God’s name brings you back here, Gabe?” ‘“We need your help, brother.” I looked to Dior behind me, huddled against the chill in her lordling’s coat. “She needs your help.” ‘Baptiste raised one heavy brow. “She?” ‘Dior gave a graceful curtsey, like a lady in the Emperor’s court. ‘“Best fetch a few bottles,” I told them. “We’ve much to talk about.”’
