20. Harper
20
Aedon sighed and ruffled his hair. “Well, I mean, there might be one way back, but it’s really very unlikely.”
“Tell me,” Harper pleaded. Panic fluttered at her edges, threatening to devour her and only kept at bay by years of resourcefulness at surviving any situation thrown at her. But this? This was beyond finding her next meal or a safe bed for the night… this was world-shattering. She was thousands of miles away from everything she knew—and Betta. Guilt stabbed and twisted inside her. Betta would be worried sick that she had not returned home that night. Would the old woman go out to search for her in the storm? Would harm come to her on Harper’s account? She could not bear it.
Aedon shrugged, unaware of her inner turmoil. “If the Dragonheart truly brought you here, perhaps it can send you home. Unfortunately, no one here knows how. Perhaps there are elves elsewhere, or even the king’s mages, who would know of such magics. But you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who will help you when, no offense, you have nothing to offer in return.”
It was clear from Aedon’s dismissive tone that he thought the notion hopeless. Harper’s heart sank a little at that.
“Mind, I think he’d want his Dragonheart back first, and there’s every chance you wouldn’t even get to petition the king. You’d be presumed to have stolen it and left to rot in some dark hole for such a treasonous act. Dragonhearts are incredibly precious, and the king lays claim to them all.”
Harper recoiled, her arm protectively encasing the Dragonheart. “It’s mine! I found it.”
“Well, perhaps the king will look leniently on you if he believes that, but as I said, it’s a long shot. In any case, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.” He leaned back against the tree he sat under.
“I’m stuck here for now?” Harper said, swallowing.
“Yes.”
She nodded, silent for a moment as she tried to take in that fact. She had not realised that, having gotten to this strange place so easily, there would be no way to go back. She huffed, a mirthless chuckle. Way to get what you wished for, Harper, she berated herself. She hadn’t meant this—had she?
“Pelenor isn’t all that bad!” Aedon said, nudging her and grinning. She forced out a small smile, but it did not reach her eyes. “I mean, it’s better than Valtivar.” He chuckled, but no one joined in. He threw up his hands. “Oh, come on, you grumps. Lighten up.”
“What’s Valtivar?” Harper asked.
“Another country bordering Pelenor. Far to the south of here, across the mountains.” He nodded at the dwarf. “Ragnar hails from there.”
“What about you?” Harper asked Aedon. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Pelenor, though I have the blood of the elf realm, Auraria, running through my line.” A smile lit his face. For a moment, he looked utterly carefree, staring into the distance as if he could see a different place around him.
“Is that far away?”
“Oh yes.”
“Why are you here then?”
Aedon’s smile faded as he shot a glance at the rest of the crew, who fidgeted. “I’m an outcast. We all are, in a fashion. Cast out by our families, countries, and people.”
Harper’s heart sank. “You mean, you’re criminals?”
Aedon drew himself up, full of affront. “Not at all!” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Well, I suppose a little.”
“You can’t be a little bit of a criminal. You either are or you aren’t.”
“We’re not in our own eyes, and that’s what matters to us,” growled Brand. “But if you want to get technical, yes, we’re outlaws.”
Harper looked between them. They didn’t seem very criminal, though they didn’t seem too friendly, either.
“Oh, go on, elf. You might as well tell her who you are.” Erika scowled. “Sate her curiosity—and your ego. But she has no right to know my story, save from my own lips.”
“Nor mine,” Brand said.
Ragnar remained silent, watching from the shadows at the edge of the fire.
“Oh, if I must!” With a dramatic flounce, Aedon leapt to his feet and swirled into an exaggerated bow. “Aedon, legendary Thief of Pelenor, at your service, miss. Pleasure to meet you.”
Harper’s jaw dropped. “You’re… You’re a thief?” she spat.
“Again, not in my own eyes, but technically, yes. My reputation far precedes me. I’m rather proud of it actually.”
“What sort of things do you steal?” Harper’s eyes narrowed as she took in the ragtag crew once more. They didn’t look wealthy. She presumed a good thief would at least wear fine clothes, or have a hoard of treasure. Some evidence of the proceeds of their crime. Maybe they’re terrible at it, the thought surfaced.
“Things that need to be liberated from their present owners.” Aedon lifted his chin, and Harper was surprised by how resilient his sense of righteousness was. It oozed from him. But now that she knew he was a crook, it tainted how handsome she had found him. “We take from those who have not earned it and give to those in need.”
Something warmer stirred in her at that. She stamped upon it. “That’s very gallant of you, but theft is wrong, no matter how you try to justify it.”
“You’re quite mistaken.” Aedon’s eyes flashed, and she shrank back at their intensity. “Would you consider it unreasonable to return funds to overtaxed peasants who cannot feed their starving children? Would you consider it unreasonable to liberate commandeered goods, stolen for avarice, and return them to their owners? Would you consider it unreasonable to liberate a cure to a sickness that would otherwise be withheld, costing innocents’ lives?”
Harper swallowed, thrown off guard by his passion. “I—I suppose not.”
Aedon sat on his rock with a huff. “Well, there you have it. Of course, the king and his guard don’t agree. That’s why I’m one of the most wanted criminals in the land. Though these three aren’t far behind.” He nodded at his companions.
“Were you stealing something today?” Harper asked. “You were being chased.”
“Yes.”
Harper leaned forward.
Aedon sighed. “I can’t divulge. I did not get what I came for, if that will relieve your distress.” He shared a loaded look with the rest of the group and his tone soured. “But, suffice it to say, it keeps in line with our criminal ethos to protect those who cannot protect themselves within the line of the law dictated from those fair few upon their golden pedestals.”
Harper coloured. Perhaps she had been wrong to call them criminals, but then again, they were thieves and quite freely admitting it. His arguments made sense, and yet, the law was the law for a reason. Surely no man—or elf—ought to be above it.
“Now.” Aedon’s tone held an edge of unfriendliness she had not expected, but understood, “we gave you food from our meagre stores, you’ve had warmth from our fire—and my cloak, I might add—and you are welcome to shelter with us for the night. Frankly, you ought to be grateful we’re taking you in. However, if you’d rather not spend the night with a bunch of hardened, moralless criminals, you’re free to leave.” He gestured at the path.
“May I stay?” she asked in a small voice. “Please. I have nowhere else to go.” Goodness knew what roamed the unfamiliar lands. Harper was not afraid of the dark or the forests, but she was not a fool. She was a stranger in these lands and with no means to protect herself. There was safety in numbers, at least. She could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile on Aedon’s face at her words.
“She can’t fight, she can’t survive in the wild, and she has no magic.” Erika’s assessment was brutal. Harper flinched.
“I can survive. I’ve hunted and provided for myself for years,” Harper retorted with a spark of defiance. The harsh woman continued to glare, but Harper straightened her spine, glaring back.
“What good is a—” Brand began.
Aedon cut him off with a hiss. “She does have a Dragonheart, though. That makes her special. Give her a chance, Erika. I doubt you’d survive in her lands.”
Erika huffed. “I could survive anywhere.”
“We don’t need a wet blanket,” said Brand. “She’s a liability. We’ll get ourselves caught with her slowing us down. We cannot afford the delay—not now—as well you know.”
“I’m happy for the girl to stay.” Ragnar’s voice was quiet, albeit filled with an authority Harper had not expected. The others stopped their bickering to look at him. He met each of their gazes in turn, and there was something accusatory in his that made each person drop their eyes. “I know what it is to be an outcast. You all do. You all know how important it is to be accepted, flaws and all. The girl’s fallen on hard times, as we have all done. We have a home in each other. Why not one more, at least for a while?”
Brand glanced at his feet, Erika looked uncomfortable, but Aedon beamed. “That settles it then. Three votes to two. Yes, Harper’s vote counts. You’re stuck with us now.”
Harper gave Aedon a hesitant smile. For all their strange depths, he seemed keen to have her. Perhaps, despite his flaws—and illegal habits—he was a generous soul and that deserved its own merit. She had nothing to offer them in recompense. “Thank you. I’ll do whatever I can to earn my keep.”
Erika huffed, but Aedon ignored her. “That’s the spirit!” He threw her a one-sided smile, and his twinkling gaze sent something twisting deep in her core as he reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly and he shook it. After he let go, she could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers upon her palm.
“Now that’s settled, how about a game of chatura?” Ragnar said. He pulled forth a box that contained a folded, hexagonal wooden board and several dozen tiny, intricately carved pieces in three different colours of wood.
Brand rolled his eyes.
“What? You’re afraid of being beaten again?” asked Ragnar, grinning.
“Never,” Brand growled, his attention snapping to Ragnar. “A farthing says I can wipe the ground with you.”
“Easiest money I’ve made all week,” Ragnar chuckled. He lay the board flat and started to stack two sets of figures upon it in a seemingly random order. “Erika? Aedon?”
Erika shook her head, continuing to tend her blade.
Aedon sighed and held up his hands. “I have no coin left, Ragnar. You cleared me out last week.”
“And don’t forget the ‘I owe you’, master elf.”
Aedon winced. “And that.”
“Harper?” Ragnar asked.
She looked at the board. “I don’t know how to play.” It looked like no game she knew. In the inn, most games centred around coins and alcohol, played with whatever chips the gamblers possessed and whichever vague rules—which were usually as fluid as their drinks—they decided.
“Go on,” said Aedon. “Count me in. I’ll show you how it’s played.” He gave Harper a winning smile, which she responded to before she remembered he was a criminal. She looked away, sour-faced.
“That’s a poor do for the girl. She’ll never learn to play from you. You couldn’t win if I was blindfolded!”
“We’ll see about that.” Aedon stuck out his tongue. “But no money in or out on my part, Master Dwarf.”
“Spoilsport.”
Ragnar promptly cleared the board of all of them, taking Brand’s farthing—a copper coin stamped very differently to Harper’s—to the tune of the huge man’s cursing. Harper did not have a clue what had happened. Some strange game of strategy, much more complicated than she could follow, with the amount of turns per player changing, different rules for when and how each figurine could move, and a seemingly arbitrary rule system.
When they had finished, Harper’s face ached from smiling. Somehow, lost in the game, she had forgotten the shattering of her world for a few precious moments.
“Chatura master again!” Ragnar crowed.
“Lucky win,” retorted Brand with a scowl. He rose to his feet and stomped off.
Aedon winked at Harper. “You’ll pick it up in no time. Ragnar, perhaps we have a future chatura mistress on our hands.”
Ragnar laughed. “Maybe if she learns from me. Definitely not if she learns from you.”
That night, Aedon let Harper keep his cloak and a pelt as bedding, and brushed off her thanks. She wrapped herself in the homely material, noting the faint smell of herbs and woodsmoke. As she lay down away from the others, who piled onto their bed of pelts, she could not sleep, despite her exhaustion.
It was difficult enough to explore the idea of travelling to a different country, but not being able to return home? What would Betta do without her? Then there was the small matter of the Dragonheart. And running with a band of outlaws, including the most wanted criminal in the kingdom. One who had her in a strange and annoying kind of flutter. Harper suppressed a groan.
Silence descended as her campmates drifted into slumber. Before long, Harper’s eyes slipped shut, despite the chaos of her mind. She fell asleep snuggled in the warmth of the cloak, the fire before her burning itself to glowing embers.