34. Harper
34
HARPER
T he jarl looked disgruntled when she returned to him, but he brightened when she told him, between short, gasping breaths, what she had seen of Ragnar and his kin. “You describe a thirl door.”
“What’s a thirl door?”
The jarl set off at a jog, and she hastened after him. “It is a secret door, several of which are built into every dwarven city, that allow in good times for smuggling and illicit affairs, and more dire days for escape if the city is lost,” he said as they ran back to the konigshalle to speak with Korrin. “Our kin from Afnirheim should have used them to escape, but maybe they did not concede defeat until too late, or perhaps they were cut off. We cannot know. To my knowledge, a thirl door has never been used for entry, but perhaps there is nothing to stop it.” With that, he hurried them both back to the konigshalle, summoning her companions to join them.
Konig Korrin paced the hall, his brows furrowed, as Jarl Halvar finished recounting Harper’s time with the Vanir—and her accidental discovery. “You are certain?”
Halvar nodded. “From what the girl describes, it can only be a thirl door.”
“How many of our kin did you see there?” Korrin asked Harper.
Surprised by his attention, she bowed hurriedly to give herself a moment of composure. “Hundreds, Konig. All in a terrible state.”
“We cannot abandon our kin,” Korrin said decisively. “I thank the Mother for her vision. Now we are armed with knowledge.”
“What will you have us do, Konig?” the jarl asked.
“For now, Jarl Halvar, I will muster Keldheim’s forces. We will rescue our kin and determine the true scale of the rot in our once fair city.” He glared at them all balefully. “Then I will muster every dwarf in Valtivar, and we will retake Afnirheim. The goblin scum will pay for their sins, and we will defeat them once and for all. The pascha’s domain will be no more in our mountains.”
Harper took a step back at the vehement hate and determination in Korrin’s voice.
“When will you have us ready, Konig?” Halvar asked, his own visage grim.
“At once. Call every dwarf to arms. Those we do not take will defend Keldheim in our absence. We leave three days hence, by the tunnels and our own thirl doors. We stay away from the roads. None but our own kin will know of our passing. The goblin scum will not know until our blades fall on their necks. I will lead us to victory.” Korrin gripped the head of the ceremonial axe belted to his waist until his knuckles whitened.
“We could not have asked for a better outcome.” Brand heaved a sigh of relief.
Aedon bounced on the balls of his feet with impatience as they made their way back to their quarters. “I wish we could leave now.”
Erika nodded in agreement, her mouth set in a grim line, but she did not speak. Harper felt nauseated by both prospects: staying, or going.
“These things take time. Three days is quick for an entire city to arm,” Brand mused.
“Not quick enough,” grumbled Aedon. “Will you share your vision with us, Harper?”
“W–What?” Harper stammered as he disrupted her thoughts, which had once more strayed to her vision of Ilrune.
Aedon frowned at her. “Are you all right? You seem quiet.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, willing the heat from her cheeks, unsuccessfully.
Aedon’s frown deepened. “Will you show me your vision of Ragnar?” he asked again.
“Yes,” Harper said with relief. She willed herself to calm down. They did not know of her other vision. But ought she tell them? Once upon a time, she would have found it far-fetched to claim, but she was slowly beginning to accept that in Pelenor, the ridiculous was true more often than not. And yet if she told them, it would create such a rift between them when she had only just started to feel secure in her growing friendship—and place in their group. Already, a gulf had begun to grow between her and Aedon. After what had happened, he had stepped back, his friendliness strained. She had no idea how Brand felt. It was clear Erika hated all Saradon stood for, though Harper still had no idea why. Harper didn’t need Erika to like her any less, Harper thought, suppressing a snort.
“Let’s not delay then,” said Brand. “Let’s see this vision, and go train. We’ll need every ounce of strength we have to survive a horde of goblins.” He cracked his neck. “I need to smash some steel.”
In the privacy of their quarters, they sat on the floor, cross-legged, hands interlaced. Aedon’s magic mingled with Harper’s and teased out the vision—but she kept the other vision tightly locked away.
“I will be glad when he is with us once more,” Brand said heavily after the vision faded. “Let’s go. Ragnar needs us to be as strong as we can for him.” Erika and Aedon jumped up to fetch their weapons, but Brand grasped Harper’s wrist as she rose, halting her. “You’re not yourself. What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice as the others left. His gaze searched hers, but she dropped her eyes.
“Nothing,” she said.
“I will not ask again, Harper. You can trust me. Whatever it is. You are one of us now. To compromise you is to compromise all of us.”
Harper squirmed in his grasp.
“Distraction could mean failure. Ragnar is counting on us.”
She swallowed. “There was another vision.”
“What was it? It must have been grave to disturb you so.”
Harper nodded, pleading eyes raising to Brand’s. “You mustn’t tell anyone else. Please.”
“I swear it, unless it will harm any of them.”
“It won’t,” she said quickly. “I… I found out who my mother is. Or rather, was.”
Brand waited expectantly.
Her voice was so quiet, he had to lean closer to hear her. “My mother was Ilrune of the House Ravakian. Saradon’s own granddaughter.”
Brand’s hand slipped from her wrist and he stilled with predatory grace. She felt the weight of his full attention crash upon her. “It cannot be.”
Hot tears pricked Harper’s eyes. “It is. I saw her die. I saw her send me to Caledan.” She shook her head, trying to shake away the memory of the dragonfire as it obliterated all. Her hands trembled as she closed her palms over her eyes—unable to spare herself reliving it again.
“Skies above,” swore Brand quietly, as the others returned noisily from their rooms. Harper sniffed and straightened, wiping her face clear of any expression that could betray her secret to them. His lips thinned. “Speak no more of this now. Later.”
Relief bloomed in her. Head low, she raced off for her own knife and sword, not meeting Aedon’s or Erika’s gaze. But Brand stared after her and she felt the weight of his brooding upon her retreating back. She hoped she was right to trust him.