24. Harper
24
Harper strode alongside Aedon, who looked at her appraisingly as she examined the new outfit she wore, courtesy of him. It was a mismatch of garments, but Harper didn’t care. The loose-sleeved shirt billowed on her arms, and she had tucked the long hem into the well-worn leather breeches. The leather boots, at first too large, had molded to her feet, thanks to a few whispers of magic from Aedon. She could still feel his hands upon her calves, stroking the boots into a perfect fit as he knelt before her. That had done strange things to her insides that she did not want to acknowledge. It had been too long since she had enjoyed the touch of another and nothing more, she had ruled, before resolutely clamping down upon the feeling.
Aedon would also not reveal to her where or how he had procured the clothes. Harper had a sinking feeling they were the product of thievery, but she was so comfortable and warm, she did not dare complain. A gentle breeze lifted the scent of lavender water off the tunic and cloak. This one had no holes or patches, and it was far sweeter than the stale sweat and ale that had ingrained in her former cloak.
She pulled the cloak closer, her fingers seeking out the soft wool and fingering the dull metal clasp. It seemed rudimentary compared to Aedon’s, but a thing of beauty and craft to Harper. More than that, the cloak was warm. It made her old one seem like a thin, tatty rag in comparison.
“We’ll have to get you a weapon, of course,” mused Aedon.
Harper snorted. Her hunting knife was one thing. A sword or some such item seemed ludicrous. “A weapon?” She was so lost in the thought, she did not see the root at her feet. She stumbled—and immediately, his hand was upon her wrist, his arm around her waist. She braced against him as he righted her, almost chest to chest.
“Steady there, Harper. Are you quite well?”
For a second, she could not breathe with his verdant eyes fixed upon her. As the heat of his touch seared through her sleeve. As the firmness of his hand at her waist melded them together. She pulled away, heart hammering. “Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Not at all. Your first lesson in swordsmanship will be?—”
“Stab them with the sharp end,” Harper blurted. Anything to rid herself of this feeling.
He shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t going to say that, but I suppose that is as good a first rule as any.” He grinned. This close, his charming personality was overwhelming and she could not help but be attracted to him. Pushing down the swoop in her stomach, she mentally chastised herself. He’s a criminal, you fool, charming or not. She stared at Brand’s back as they followed him and Erika. Ragnar, at his own trundling pace, followed a distance down the path.
Harper’s eyes traveled over Brand’s broad, muscled shoulders, then the length of his sweeping, eagle-like wings—anything to distract herself. They were huge, and she had an inkling of curiousness to see what they looked like fully spread. Imposing, she was sure.
“Don’t worry about those two.” Aedon leaned closer to whisper. She jumped as his hand brushed hers. “They’re not the best with strangers. They have good cause to be wary, but when you get to know them, well, they’re as protective and loyal as anyone I’ve ever met. You just have to bear with them. It’ll take a while to earn their trust.”
“What is he?” Harper whispered back.
Aedon eyed Brand. “He’s an Aerian.” At her blank expression, he elaborated. “A winged warrior of the skies.”
She shook her head slightly, even further nonplussed.
Brand turned at the noise, eyes narrowed, and Erika tutted at Aedon. “Are you going to chat all day? We have a crucial mission. Head down. Feet forward.”
Aedon bowed his head in mock contriteness, but he slid Harper a wink, which seemed to be his cue for mischief.
She bit her lip. “Where are we going?”
Brand and Erika whipped around, both fixing him in a glare as Aedon opened his mouth. He frowned. “What? There’s no sense keeping her in the dark. What secret do we have to hide?”
“It’s just none of her business,” Erika snarled, and Harper’s steps faltered at her open hostility.
“She’s with us now. Perhaps she can help,” Aedon said stubbornly. All trace of his mischief vanished, and the look he gave Harper was full of determination. “In fact, I know she can.” He lifted his chin and glared at Erika, as if daring her to disagree.
Harper looked between the two of them. She had no idea how she was supposed to help, but she wasn’t about to step between the two of them. Not when he fought her corner. To Harper’s surprise, even though Erika’s mouth was set in a thin line and her disapproval was clear, she relented. “Fine. Only the particulars. No more.”
Brand continued walking without a word. Erika huffed and stalked after him.
“What was that about?” Ragnar asked as he caught up.
“They’re being difficult, as per usual,” called Aedon after their retreating backs. Brand raised his hand in an obscene gesture. “Rude!” Brand made the gesture again. Aedon tutted, but his customary carefree twinkle had returned.
“So, where are you going?” Harper asked.
Aedon sighed. “We travel south at present. We’re returning to a small village where a sickness spreads. We carry the cure.”
Harper frowned. She had not expected that. “Wait… Did you steal the cure?”
“Of course,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “Not even all the assets in the village could have bartered for it, and people are suffering. Those who held the cure were unwilling to part with it for anything less than a king’s ransom. The villagers asked for our help. Naturally, we agreed.”
“Who had the cure?”
Aedon grimaced. “The elves of the living forest, Tir-na-Alathea. Stuck-up bunch. Can’t stand them. Far too full of their own self-importance, if you ask me. They don’t have an ounce of compassion and wouldn’t have agreed to trade for anything I could give them, so I took it. But it’s for the greater good. The sickness is like nothing we have ever seen before, and it’s contagious. Without a defence, it will spread. Many lives are at stake if it does.”
“What is the sickness?” Harper asked. A frisson of anxiety fluttered through her. Careful now, Harper. You’re in a land where magic seems to be normal. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.
Aedon shook his head, frowning. “It’s a tricky one. It saps strength—both physical and magical.”
“Is it so bad that it saps magic?”
“It’s different here in Pelenor. Magic is everywhere. It’s in the fabric of the very air. Our land and people depend on it. It’s like your Caledan without rivers or air. There’s hardly any magic in Caledan. You have so few with magical blood there. Frankly, I don’t know how you all make do without it.”
“I’m mortal and make do without it. I can’t believe it’s as bad as being without air.”
Aedon gave her a strange look. “You’re not mortal, and yes, it is. You wait and see when we get there.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Who are your parents?” he asked.
The question caught her off guard. “What? I don’t know.”
“I’ll wager not, because they were from Pelenor. Or at least, I reckon one of them was.”
Harper stopped dead. “I’m sorry?”
Aedon halted and looked at her, sighing. “I suppose if you don’t know, you ought to. It’s only fair. Like plenty of folks here in Pelenor, you’re only part-mortal.”
“And part what?” Harper was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing.
“Elf.”
“What?” she whispered. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s true,” he said simply. His customary cheeky glimmer was gone, the dimple absent from his cheek, and he looked at her with such open sincerity, she almost believed him. Almost.
“It can’t be. I’m from Caledan. I’m mortal, like everyone else there.” She swallowed.
“You really don’t know?”
Erika butted in. “Or she is a liar.”
“Surely you feel it flowing through you,” Aedon urged, silencing Erika with a glare. “Don’t you feel more alive? I can feel it from here. Your blood sings of magic. You even have a little point on your ears!”
“Well, I caught up on some sleep and got some food in my stomach. Of course I’m going to feel better.” She resisted the urge to feel her ears. He jested, surely. She had never noticed it before.
“Yes,” he said, a touch of impatience in his tone. “But don’t you feel far better than that ought to make you? Like you have a spring in your step? Like your muscles don’t ache as badly as they did before? Like your head is clearer than it’s ever been, despite the fact you ought to be asleep on your feet given the day you had yesterday?”
“Well, I suppose so, but that doesn’t mean I have magic. I mean, half-elf? Really?” she scoffed. Her hands rose and she fingered the tips of her ears, then pulled her hair away so he could see. “For starters, explain these. Human ears. Nothing like yours.”
“You wait,” he said stubbornly. “You’ve lived for what, twenty or so years in Caledan? Where there’s a dearth of magic, what with it being beyond the veil.” Harper had no idea what he spoke of. “You’ve been starved of it. No wonder you couldn’t perform any magic, accidental or not. Now you’re here. Wait for it to fill that void again. You watch your ears. In a month, they won’t be the same.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “You mean my ears are suddenly going to go all pointy?” Her voice oozed disbelief.
“Suddenly is the wrong word, but yes. Gradually, you’ll develop more of a tip. If your elven blood is strong, from a parent, it’ll be quite pronounced and your magic nice and powerful. If it comes from a little further down the line, a great-grandparent or beyond, perhaps your ears won’t change at all, but you’ll sure be able to feel that magic.”
Harper continued trudging along behind Brand’s unrelentingly straight back, her own shoulders slightly bowed. She did not know quite what to make of Aedon’s fantastical claim, but she could detect no hint of a lie in his words.
“I can teach you, if you’d like,” Aedon offered when she did not reply. “To find and use your magic, I mean. With time and help, you’ll be able to coax it out of hiding—and then strengthen it.”
Harper looked at him quickly, but there was no sign of merriment in his expression. She narrowed her eyes, but her stern expression was a front for the wild storm within her. She spun out of control, and the ground beneath Harper’s feet was her only anchor stopping her cascade into open panic. All of her reality seemed to have unravelled and it had no intention of stopping. How deeply did this run inside her?
He held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, don’t believe me. Humour me, though.”
She could not respond.
“Please?” The sincerity in his eyes was her undoing.
Harper blew out a shaking breath. This was madness. All of it. She would humour him. “Fine. What do you get out of it, though?”
Aedon grinned. “Another elf-blood to keep company with, which will be a nice change from those two misery guts—” He ignored Brand’s rude gesture, “—along with the satisfaction of another member of our merry little band being able to spellcast. It’s really rather handy.”
“Aerians, humans, and dwarves can’t spellcast?”
“No. It’s proven rather divisive in Pelenor, as you might see. Elves and magic rule. The humans fall to the wayside, and the half-breeds are somewhere in between. Magic means status, power, and wealth. It’s just easier to get along here with it.”
Harper frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I suppose it’s not, but it is what it is, and no amount of disliking will change it.”
Harper pondered his words as they strode down a rolling hill and the woods gave way to meadows and plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. A river glinted in the distance, and smoke rose from a settlement on the horizon.
“How far is it?” she asked.
“Oh, a few days’ trek yet. Magic can’t fly us there, sadly, and Ragnar is a bit too fat for Brand to carry.”
“I heard that, you cheeky little bugger,” Ragnar called from behind them.
“You were meant to!” Aedon trilled.
Harper stifled a laugh, and her cheeks warmed as he winked at her. They had a strange group here. A friendly, though quiet dwarf, a mischievous elf, and two brooding warriors, all with their own secrets. His offer was overwhelmingly tempting. There were magical beings in all the old tales. If the legends were to be believed, even the elusive Eldarkind, the high elves of Caledan, possessed the skill to perform great magics, though they had disappeared from the land with the dragons. “You’re really going to teach me magic?”
“Yes. Real magic.”
“The Dragonheart also holds magic?”
“Yes, plenty.”
She frowned. It seemed logical. If the stone had brought her here, surely it could take her back. “Is the village you seek on the way to the royal city?”
“I suppose, in a fashion. It’s not direct, but it’s not too much of a detour. Why?”
“I want to see the king and ask him to send me home with the Dragonheart’s magic. If it’s his, he can keep it. I just need the magic to leave.”
Aedon looked at her, an inscrutable, closed expression upon his face. “It’s an impossible task. If you wish to go, you can go, but I think your destiny has summoned you here for a reason, Harper. It’s not every day a Dragonheart crosses into a different land to call someone home.”
“This isn’t my home.”
Aedon was silent for a long moment. “Not yet,” he murmured, then strode ahead to join Brand and Erika, leaving Harper to wonder at his words—and where she belonged.