78. Aedon
78
AEDON
T he refuge of Keldheim was a long-awaited relief. The silent halls were peaceful, the air clean, but it was still too dark for Aedon’s liking. The giant faelight and scattering of lanterns could not replace the daytime sun, nor the wind upon his face. Korrin had granted them refuge, gladdened they had somehow survived, though filled with grief was he for the loss of so many of his kin in another fruitless mission to retake Afnirheim. The last for now, Aedon knew, for the dwarven forces were too spent to attempt a third. Winter would soon likely close any attempts to salvage the dwarven stronghold.
As much as relief filled Aedon at the prospect of his own safety, Brand’s and Erika’s trepidation matched his own. It had been a long time since they had felt so hopeless—and so helpless. They regrouped in the infirmary, where Brand and Erika rested near to each other in the now crowded space filled with as many beds as would fit, for the number of wounded was overwhelming and spilled out into the halls of the dwarven city.
The four—for Ragnar joined them, albeit on a crutch—sat in silence. They all knew. It was the calm before the storm. They had seen nothing of Saradon’s—or Valxiron’s—power yet. Inexorably, Saradon would come and do all in his power to lay waste to the lands and peoples before him. Do all in his power to stop the prophecy from coming to fruition.
What part would Harper play in it? None of them knew. None of them could know. Aedon’s heart ached for the loss of her. She gave herself so willingly for us . That, above all else, proved their companionship. She truly had become one of their small family, their bond as deep as blood.
Her friendship had also brought him the peace he had sought over the years since Valyrea’s death. Perhaps he could truly open up to her. If we ever see her again , his mind taunted. Somehow, just like the others, she helped heal him of a grief so old and deep, he never thought he would see the end of it. Now, he truly regretted being so casual and flippant with her own feelings. She had deserved better than that.
He winced, recalling how he had been so cold to her when all she had sought was some warmth and love. No more than she deserved after her own hardships and a life of cold loneliness. He chastised himself for not being as good a friend as he ought to have been—but she was alive, and there was hope to make amends. There could be no greater way to repent than to save her from the arms of their enemy.
Aedon watched as Brand slowly climbed from his bed to pour a goblet of water for himself and Erika. The Aerian’s wings were a mass of bandages, and the rest of his body was patched with poultices over the various wounds and bruising he had suffered. Aedon hoped the Aerian would recover to his former strength. Erika was in an even worse state, her strength utterly spent and every limb in need of tending from the injuries she had sustained in their escape.
Brand hobbled to Erika’s bed, lifted the goblet to her lips, and trickled it in, more tenderly than anyone would have thought possible of the huge warrior. She tilted her head up, taking the offering like a small, frail, helpless chick in the nest, all the while glaring at him fiercely. Aedon smiled, which deepened as Brand bowed to rest his forehead against Erika’s. Both closed their eyes in unspoken solace.
Had he found redemption, too? Aedon wondered. Long had Brand carried the weight of Nyla’s death upon his shoulders. The death of another was a heavy burden to carry. Aedon felt that only too well. Brand could never bring her back, as he well knew. Aedon wished his friend would stop blaming himself—and cutting himself off from love again. It was no betrayal to seek a second chance. Aedon had only just realised that himself, though too late to save any fragment of a relationship with any of his past courtships.
“You know, if you’re going to be busy mooning over a girl, Aerian, you shall have no hope of winning chatura any time soon,” Ragnar said, a hint of hoarseness still in his voice. He sidled up to Aedon and smiled warmly.
Aedon clasped his friend close in a one-armed hug, grinning. “Well met, my friend.”
“Shut up, dwarf,” growled Brand, then he kissed Erika upon the lips in front of any who watched.
Aedon laughed delightedly. “Oh, thank heavens! It’s about time.”
Brand grinned, his cheeks red at the unusual public display of affection. Erika’s smile was hard but filled with her own brand of affection as her fingers laced through his.
As they talked into the night, Aedon found solace in his companions, until the healers sent him and Ragnar scurrying for fear of disturbing the other patients. Aedon missed Valyrea fiercely. It was an aching void that would never be filled. Something within him died with her that day. He wondered if he could ever truly love again, as more than a friend anyway, for none of his companions would become as close of a soul mate as his dragon had once been.
He had lost his chance with Harper, for he did not know how to love her when she had sought it. He respected that she had realised her own worth was far greater than he had measured it, with no small amount of shame on his part. He was grateful she still cared enough to sacrifice herself for them. After his treatment of her, it was more than he deserved. He vowed to get her back. A part of him hoped that now, in the arms of her enemy, she had at least one to call a friend, or at least an ally, temporary or not, in Dimitrius. She would need to find much strength before they saw her again.
“Are you all right, friend?” Ragnar, released from the infirmary to reside once more in the konigshalle, paced beside him silently.
Aedon huffed, and scrubbed at his eyes which stung with gritty tiredness. “Just worrying, Ragnar. Just worrying.”
At Ragnar’s silence, he continued. “I mistreated Harper. I see it now. She’s been a better friend to us than we deserved, even after we doubted her at first. I hope she is as safe as can be.” His thoughts strayed to Dimitrius and his promise to protect her. Did he trust the spymaster? He had seemed so sincere, yet it had been many years since they had seen eye to eye. “And that our paths cross again,” he said finally, his voice heavy.
“Against all odds, we are all here.” Ragnar’s voice was warm, reassuring. Aedon was grateful that his friend never lost hope. “We will find her again.”
“More than that,” said Aedon grimly. “We’ll do everything we can to stop Saradon. I would not be doing my duty as a former general of the Winged Kingsguard if I did not stand up to protect those who cannot protect themselves from power such as his.”
Ragnar looked at him in surprise. “You would take up your old position?”
Aedon snorted. “No. No matter the current situation in Pelenor, I would not be welcomed back into those ranks, but there is nothing to stop me acting of my own volition. I may have a dragon no more, but her fire burns in me, and I will no longer squander it selfishly. She would want me to fight, as we always did, for the peace of others.”
Ragnar clapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you, my friend—my brother.”
Warmth bloomed within him. Aedon nodded, but glanced at him sidelong. “You know, you could help the cause, too.”
Ragnar scowled.
“Hear me out. No matter your personal squabbles with Korrin or anyone else here, your rank holds power. You know as well as I what good that can do. We must not permit suffering if we can avert it. Look at the sacrifices your people have made already, let alone our companions. Think of the suffering to come.” Dimitrius’s words weighed heavily upon him, his fervent promises of the destruction Saradon would wreak upon Valtivar. “You could stand against that,” Aedon insisted.
“But how?” Ragnar’s quiet voice held hope and desperation.
Aedon only shook his head. “Who knows, my friend. The opportunity will present itself, I am certain. Saradon’s Curse spreads. Somehow, Harper is the key, as are the Dragonhearts. But moreover, we must all stand as one against him. Nothing will spell our doom more surely than dividing.”
Ragnar sighed. “I do not know if I can reconcile with Korrin.”
“You can try, and that is all I ask you consider.”
Through the rock of Keldberg Mountain and across the valleys lay Afnirheim, a shattered reminder of their fate should they fail.
“We must stop him,” Ragnar said.
“Let us hope we can outrun the storm long enough.”