18. Harper
18
“Aedon? Who’s this?” a deep, gravelly voice asked, a heavy twang twisting the Common Tongue away from the slant Harper was used to in Caledan. Harper looked up. And up. Large, booted feet. Muscled legs twice as thick as her companion’s—whose name she surmised now was ‘Aedon’. A chest so broad that the armour upon it would have fallen right off a human. Bare, scarred arms with leather bracers. He towered over her so much, her neck hurt from how far back she had to bend it to take him in. A weather-worn, craggy face stared impassively down at her. And… Wings? Wings rested on his back, just like the woman she had seen in the village. Except his were far bigger and tawny in colour. She gaped. There was no fear left in her to be scared by this monstrous male.
“Er… I have no idea,” Aedon replied. His voice was almost sheepish. He turned to Harper. “Who are you?”
The man-bird groaned. “Not a dead weight. Please tell me you have not picked up another useless mouth to feed. We already have the dwarf. You were supposed to get horses. Four legs! Not two!”
“Hey, you’d starve if it wasn’t for his cooking. You’re just grumpy you can’t beat him at chatura. She won’t be a weight at all,” Aedon said, waving at the bird-man dismissively. “Will you?”
Harper froze. She had no idea how she ought to reply.
“See. We’re fine. Our band of merry men and women grows one larger, at least for now. Brand, she seems to have had a terrible day of it. I’ll wager she has a story that will entertain us as we sup tonight. Surely she can stay for a night?”
Brand huffed and turned, stalking away. “Fine,” he muttered. “Keep the stray. She’s all yours.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Aedon, winking at Harper and offering a hand to her. She took it mutely and stood. “He’s as soft as a dwarf’s backside when you get to know him.”
The elf drew himself up. “My name is Aedon. The Aedon.” He smiled at her, as if expecting her to know who he was. She stared at him blankly. His face fell slightly. “Er, right. Not from around these parts, I see. I guess there is a limit to how far my reputation precedes me, and that’s wherever you’re from, which would be where, Miss…”
“Harper,” she replied quietly. “I’m from County Denholme. In Caledan. This isn’t Caledan, is it?” It was barely a question. She knew, deep in her gut. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails cutting little half moons into the skin. But no amount of sharp pain made any of this vanish.
“Right you are, Miss Harper. When did you arrive?”
“Today.” She hedged her bet—honesty with no detail to incriminate her.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Today? Here? Hmm… Your lips are turning a little blue, and we could do with finishing off our rather spectacular escape. How about we get somewhere safer and you dried off, then we’ll talk. Trust me. You’re safe for now.”
Safe. Did she feel safe? Every nerve in her body screamed of fighting or fleeing, even through the growing haze of exhaustion which threatened to collapse her after the longest day of her life. Aedon strode away, and turned back to her, waiting expectantly when she did not follow. It took every ounce of effort not to sway on her feet—or fall. Harper swallowed, her throat dry and thick. More walking. She was certain her body could not take it, yet she had no choice but to go forward. Backwards seemed absolutely out of the question. “All right.”
Aedon nodded. “That settles it then. Tonight, you can sing for your supper.” He smirked. “Not literally, if you’re a terrible singer. Singing is not mandatory. Then we’ll give you a bed for the night. Of sorts. More of a metaphorical bed, to be honest. On the ground. Ahem.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “Smile, Miss Harper. There’s no need for that wan face. After a hot meal and a good night’s sleep, you’ll feel far more chirpy tomorrow. Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of them.”
Harper was too tired to even wonder about who that might be as she trudged after him, utterly dispirited. Clearly, her day wasn’t getting back on track anytime soon.
Up ahead, “the rest of them” awaited. She could tell they were eager to be off from the way they shuffled their feet, their packs on their backs, looking down the path. Averting her eyes from Brand’s burning glare, Harper glanced at the two others. A stern-faced woman, who looked reassuringly human, and a cloaked and hooded stranger, who bent over a pack and did not look up as she arrived. Harper could tell little about him aside from a medium build and short stature.
“Harper, meet the rabble. Erika, Ragnar, this is Harper. Brand you’ve already met. We’ll do better introductions later, but I’m afraid we need to hurry now.”
Erika gave him a reproving glare. “We’ve been waiting for you all day, Aedon. It’s you being tardy keeping us now—and Brand here tells us you didn’t even get what we came for.” She shoved a cloak at him, and then her hostile glare swept across Harper. Harper suppressed the urge to recoil.
“Say no more!” With a gleaming smile, Aedon breezed past her, relieved her of the cloak, and marched off down the track. Brand, Erika, and Ragnar followed without a backwards glance. Harper, with a heaving sigh, stumbled after them at the rear.
They walked until they were high into the foothills and the ache in Harper’s legs became a relentless burn. Her head hung so low, she stumbled into Brand, so exhausted that she did not realise they had stopped before her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as he turned and stared at her. He turned away.
“We’ll make camp here,” Aedon said. “Erika, can you do your thing?”
She nodded and strode away.
“She’s going to make sure we can’t be tracked,” Aedon explained to Harper with a wink. “We don’t want to receive any unwanted guests now, do we?”
In quick order, Brand laid a fire that Aedon lit without a single word, while the cloaked stranger rolled out what paltry bedding they had. Harper realised the sky darkened, heralding nightfall, and the air had subtly grown colder. Her cloak was still wet. Now that they had stopped moving, her shivers returned, though she had dried off somewhat during the walk. Aedon ushered her closer to the fire, confiscating her sodden cloak and placing his own around her shoulders. She slumped onto a large rock, grateful to be off her feet, and looked around. This forest, at least, looked familiar. The pines could have belonged to her own forests. Perhaps I’m not as far away as I think. She clutched hopelessly at the thought.
“So, who’s the precious flower?” asked Erika as she returned, casting a critical eye over Harper. “She’s not from round here, is she?”
Harper tried not to stare. Standing this close, she noticed that under Erika’s rough-hewn fringe lurked a huge scar on her forehead, one that still looked angry and red, though she could not tell how it had been caused. Erika glared at her. Harper looked away quickly.
“Caledan. You arrived today, you said?” Aedon replied. He leaned closer to Harper, frowning.
Unease curled within her. “Yes.”
“That’s impossible,” Aedon murmured. “Logistically impossible to arrive here today from Caledan.” The others shared troubled glances that set Harper on edge.
“How do I get back?” she asked, desperation tightening her throat. “This is some kind of mistake.”
“Well, she can’t stay with us,” Brand cut her off.
“And where else is she going to go?” Aedon fired back. “She cannot return to Caledan, if that’s where she’s supposed to be. We’re thousands of miles away.”
“What?” Harper asked, stilling. That couldn’t be true.
“Nothing. All in good time,” Aedon said quickly. She could tell his smile was forced. “Get the soup cooking, Ragnar. I’m starving. It’s been a hard day’s work, you know! Whilst you lot lazed around, I was out grafting away for us all.”
Brand snorted with derision.
The hooded figure shed his cloak, and Harper stifled a gasp. The man was not at all what she had expected. Shorter than all of them, he was muscled, with a shock of wiry, dark hair and a beard to match, all of which had been neatly braided, bunched, and tied together with cords and beads of metals and glass. He was older in appearance than the rest of them, with deep-set wrinkles lining his face. Harper looked away as he caught her staring, just as she examined the tattooed skin of his face and hands. Is he a… dwarf? Harper wondered, not daring to ask.
She noticed how very differently they all dressed, as though they came from differing cultures. Aedon’s refined—though worn—attire clashed with Brand’s practical and hardwearing war gear. Erika’s mismatched clothes had an air of the nomadic about them—garments patched with fabrics of many textures and colours, fur on her breast, shoulders, and boots. Ragnar seemed a mixture of all three. Rich fabrics, tired though they were, under robust patterned leathers with hints of fur embellishments.
Ragnar unstrapped the small pot from his pack and set to skinning a small mammal, then peeled some strange looking root vegetables. Soon, a soup bubbled away on the fire, and Harper could not help but blush when her stomach rumbled. Whatever time of day her body thought it was, perhaps it no longer cared now food was on offer. The pot was too small to feed them all with Harper there, but Aedon insisted on sharing. Though she tried to refuse, he would hear none of it, wearing her down with a winning smile and friendly glint in his eyes. She mumbled her thanks and accepted the small serving, along with a hunk of hard bread to dunk into it.
He served himself last, then sat next to her, his crossed legs bumping hers as they all huddled around the fire. She tried not to think about it. He was easily one of the most handsome men she had ever seen—his easy charm so different to Alric’s rough kindness, his lithe muscle so contrasting to the tanner’s ox-like strength—and his kindness left her slightly flustered and tongue-tied in his presence.
They ate in silence, each ravenously tearing into their portions until the food disappeared in short order. The small serving was the most satisfying thing she had eaten in weeks, hearty and whole compared to the thin, watery stew she had last eaten at the inn. Her stomach felt full and warm, banishing some of the chill that had settled deep in her core that day.
Brand sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Excellent as always, Ragnar.”
Ragnar dipped his head in thanks, still eating, his attention on his food. The rest of them turned theirs to Harper, who squirmed under their scrutiny.
“So.” Brand said.
Aedon shot him a glare. “Be kind,” he muttered. He turned back to Harper. “So…” His voice was lighter. He tilted his head. “You’re not from Pelenor. Tell us how you journeyed here.”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Harper admitted. Internally, she warred for a moment. What should she say? How much could she trust these strangers? But, with weary resignation, she knew that she needed their help. There was no one else to turn to. She recounted finding the Dragonheart and what had happened when she touched it.
“You have a Dragonheart?” Erika’s hard gaze bored into Harper, who flinched under it. Everyone’s attention on her, she tentatively brought it out of her cloak. The group collectively sucked in a breath before they all leaned closer.
“It is a Heart of Dragons, really and truly?” Ragnar looked to Aedon, who nodded slowly. The dwarf raised a hand to his chest and shook his head. Harper thought he seemed filled with emotion, but she did not understand why.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing happening,” Brand said. His gaze flicked between Aedon and the Dragonheart. “Is it dangerous?”
“I haven’t, either. Dragonhearts, being gateways to other lands?” Aedon huffed and shrugged. “Dangerous, though? No, I don’t think so. But there are clearly greater magics at play here than what I understand. What happened next, Harper?”
“Well, then I found myself here—well, not here, but over by that village. When they saw me, they accused me of stealing the Dragonheart. I ran, and that’s when I bumped into you.”
“Quite literally,” Aedon said with a rueful grin, rubbing his chest. “So you really didn’t take the Dragonheart?”
“I didn’t.”
“It’s beautiful.” Aedon leaned closer. There was a yearning in him, one that ellicited a coil of something uncomfortable in her gut. “May I?” This close, she saw his green eyes held flecks of blue and gold in them. Somehow, she reached out to him even though she had just a moment before thought it not wise to give her rare treasure over. She blinked, startling as his fingers brushed hers. And then, it was in his hands and she felt dazed. What had just happened? That unease coiled anew in her stomach.
Aedon gently cupped the stone, examining it as though it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. Perhaps it was even more valuable than she had first thought. She cleared her throat. With a smile, he handed it back to her, his hands lingering for just a second as she took it. She tamped down on the uncomfortable feeling. Nothing was amiss. He’d given it back. Why did she still feel uneasy?
“Now, I have a question. Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re currently in the Kingdom of Pelenor, to the southeast of the living forest of Tir-na-Alathea,” Brand said, as though that explained everything.
“Pelenor?” Somehow, it sounded worse for others to voice that she was definitely in a different land. She had never even heard of the place. She knew of Caledan. To the south was Roher. To the east, the steel-grey waves of the ocean. To the north, the biting cold of the ever-winter lands. She knew even less about what lay to the west. She clamped down on a fluttering in her chest, and folded her trembling hands together.
“Yes,” Aedon said. “I suppose we don’t need to teach you Pelenor geography right now. You probably need some more sensible clothes, though. Yours look a little, ah… worn.” He wrinkled his nose. “What in Pelenor is that stain on your shirt? Some kind of blood?”
Harper looked down and her cheeks warmed. “Oh. No, it’s stew. I don’t have much coin. It’s at… home.” The word felt strange upon her tongue. Harper offered her copper, shameful as it was. She wondered if it were a hidden blessing that all her wordly goods and money had remained behind. Betta would need them in her absence.
Aedon bit it, then tossed it back at her. “Oh, that won’t do you any good here. What about your bracelet? That metal looks valuable.”
Harper snatched her arm back. “No. Sentimental value. It’s not worth anything to anyone else. It’s all I have from my childhood.” She ran her finger over the single charm, as she had done thousands of times before, and tucked it out of sight up her sleeve.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Look, there’s been a terrible mistake of some kind. If you could just tell me how to get home, or send me back, I’ll be on my way.”
Aedon shared a troubled look with Brand, who shrugged. “You’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. Might as well be now.”
“I’m afraid there’s no way back, Harper,” Aedon said quietly.
She furrowed her brows. “What?”
“I mean, it’s technically possible. You could travel for months, eventually reaching where you call home. Maybe. If you survived the sea crossings. And the wilds.”
Harper’s chest tightened. That could not be. “There must be some way I can get back!” she said desperately, fighting the nauseating swoop at the bottom of her stomach. Home might not have been much, but it was hers, and the only anchor she had in the world. More important than anything, Betta depended on her.