Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harper
B y the time we reach the bridge, the sun is setting. My legs are like rubber. I’m not used to running long distances, and clearly not as if my life depends on it. That was more terrifying than being imprisoned and tortured, where at least I knew what was happening. Portals sucking people away were worse.
Bor. That poor baby is in evil’s clutches now.
Aaran holds me back while he checks for dark magic on the bridge. He’s been doing this every few miles. Once he’s satisfied, he offers me his hand to cross. “On the other side, we can rest under the bridge for the night.”
Two visions war in my brain. The first is the unsavory people who often live under bridges in the urban areas back home. The second is a childhood tale about a troll and three goats. Thoughts of my father and his warmth and fun-loving ways flow through me.
On the west side of the bridge, the air is lighter. It’s easier to breathe. I inhale deeply and gently let it out. “That’s nice.”
“Yes. That is Mother’s magic, and some of the oracles.” He rounds the stone pylon and heads down the embankment.
I wait, as if a troll might appear, then laugh at myself and ease toward the river.
No goats or monsters of any kind lurk in twenty feet of dry land under the bridge, and the riverbank is two feet above the rushing water. As the sun lowers behind us, Aaran and I gather rocks rounded by the water. Rather than burn wood that might smoke us out, we pile up the stones, and Aaran uses magic to heat the rocks. He digs in his pack, pulls out a warm blanket, and lays it on the ground. “It’s not exactly lush, but we should be dry and warm through the night.”
I lean against a pylon, and the magic heat drives away the coming chill of night. “It’s perfect.”
He’s still healing. Tired from the long day, he drags his feet and his shoulders slump when he walks to the bank. “I’ll try to use magic to bring up a fish or two. We can cook it on the rocks.”
Even though eating unseasoned fish from rocks sounds horrible, my stomach rumbles. “Are you sure you have more magic to use?” I hate seeing him weak.
“This doesn’t take much, and we have to eat.” Eyes closed, he lies on his stomach and reaches into the river. His skin brightens, and the pulse of his warm magic flushes over me.
A minute later, he pulls a fish big enough to feed us both from the water. In his elvish language, he says something that might be a prayer before he brings the fish to cook. Adding heat, he places the fish on the stones with a sizzle.
“You’re just going to cook it head and tail and all?” My hunger is failing.
“Without a pan, this is the best way to keep it moist. I won't make you eat scales or bones.” He winks.
Despite myself, my cheeks heat. “You can’t make me do anything.”
“True,” he says, and smiles without looking up from his cooking. “What were you thinking when I said we’d sleep under the bridge? I felt something, but I couldn’t tell whether it was happy or sad.”
“My father used to go on business trips when I was a girl.” He had blue eyes and brown hair, always looked powerful in his business suits when he came home from work. Then he would change into jeans or shorts, and that felt better to me.
“The bridge made you think of your father’s work?” Now he looks, but his expression is confused. He flips the fish over.
Shaking my head, I explain. “When he was gone for a long time, he’d bring me home a gift. Once he brought me a book with children’s poems, stories, and fairy tales. It was hard-covered and had characters from rhymes and stories on the front and back. I loved that book. There was a story about a troll who lived under the bridge and three goats that wanted to cross. This made me think of that story, which made me think of my father. And I suppose thinking of him makes me both happy and sad.”
Aaran’s knife glints in the glow of the stones. He cuts open the fish, slices out some flaky white meat, places it on a leaf and hands it to me. “It probably would benefit from spices, but we’ll have to make do.”
Too hungry to argue, I eat the fish, and while salt would be nice, it’s not bad.
Fed and having washed our hands in the river, we lie back on the blanket. I rest my head on Aaran’s shoulder and close my eyes.
“Tell me the story,” he says.
“Hmm?” My muscles tick as they relax from a day of overexertion.
He wraps his arm around me and kisses my cheek, and it feels as if we’ve always known each other. “Tell me about the goats and the troll.”
Eyes closed, I conjure up the tale of The Three Billy Goats Gruff and tell him what I can remember, right through the demise of the unfortunate troll. “I’m not sure if we’re the goats or the troll.”
He chuckles, and my head bobs on his warm body. “I’m not sure who’s the hero of that tale.”
“When I was little, I cheered for the goats, but now I can see the flaws in the lesson. I can’t say if that’s the point of the story or not. Most of the nursery rhymes and fairy tales from my childhood are either gruesome or ambiguous when you think about them.” This is not the first time I’ve realized this. It was a topic in one of my literature classes in college. “A lot of them were written during times of war and disease.”
“It’s interesting. Not much different here. There were many tales of children being whisked away by monsters in my childhood as well.” He falls silent.
“Perhaps because there were monsters, and it would frighten you into staying in places your parents thought safe.
“Perhaps.”
A s the sunlight brings the first gray and purple to the day, I pull out of Aaran’s arms. At the water’s edge, I slip out of my clothes and into the river. The cold water makes me squeak despite not wanting to wake him.
“Harper?”
I squeeze my eyes closed and wish I had been able to keep silent. “I’m just washing up.”
An instant later, he’s at the edge of the embankment stripping out of his clothes.
The cold washes away, and even after seeing him naked before, I heat from head to toe. He’s beautiful, hard, and muscled. Whatever harm the wound and two days’ rest did, it hasn’t affected his toned body.
He steps into the river, and without being fazed by the chill, dives under. Like a merman, he swims toward me.
Instinctively, I step back. The round stones under my feet are hard to grip, and I slip. My head goes under in an instant. I come up sputtering and cough up water. When I stand, Aaran wraps his arms around me.
“Are you alright?” He brushes my hair from my face, and it takes several attempts to get the wet strands out of my eyes. “Why did you back away?”
Clutching his shoulders, I don’t have a good answer. “I don’t know. This felt new somehow. You’re…” I search for the word. “Changed. Not in a bad way, but still, not the same.”
With his muscled legs wide, he lifts me until he can kiss my throat without leaning over. “Back in familiar light magic. I’m feeling much better. If we didn’t have to get to the spring before dark, I would make love to you here on the banks of the river. I would hear you scream my name a dozen times.”
My breath hitches. Wrapping my legs around his hips brings his cock along my slit. I rub along his shaft and moan. “You do feel better.”
A few minutes to forget everything else. It’s not too much to want. The aches of my body and the memories from yesterday, I just want it all to go away, so I won’t hurt so much.
With a frustrated groan, he carries me from the river and lies on top of me on the grassy shore. I love the weight of him pressing into me. His mouth is electric along the skin of my neck and chest. He looks into my eyes, and his shine with so much love, it’s hard to breathe. Lowering his mouth, he devours mine. His tongue seeks mine and slides over and around until I’m squirming beneath him.
Threading my fingers through his damp hair, I suck his tongue, then make love to his lips. On fire, I lift my hips so he can feel how wet I am, and it has nothing to do with the river.
A kraa-kraa breaks the silence as the shadow of a bird flies over us.
Aaran stills.
“Oh god, is it the blackbirds? Has Venora found us?” My pulse races, and I try to judge how far it is to get under the bridge and out of sight.
Shading his eyes, he looks up. “We’re safe.” He sighs, lifts to one arm, and grabs my clothes. “You should get dressed. That’s not a blackbird. It’s a raven. Mother and the ravens are connected. I’m sure she sent it.”
Taking my clothes, I scramble out from under him and run under the bridge to dress. “Your mother, she sees through the raven?”
He rises slowly and pulls on his pants. It’s hard to look away from how male and perfect he is. Shrugging into his shirt, he says, “When she wishes.”
The raven lands on a rock at the base of the bridge. “ Kraa-kraa .” With shiny jet-black and curious eyes, it looks at me, then at Aaran.
Taking a knee, he pets the bird.
It fluffs and bends its neck for more attention. Then it flaps its wide wings and cocks its head.
“Tell her we’re on our way.” Aaran gives it one last pat and turns to me. “We can make the Naomh Spring before dark if we leave now. It’s a full day’s walk.”
The raven flaps its wings and takes flight. It speeds west until it’s only a speck in the purplish sky.
Sitting, I pull on my shoes. I can’t decide if his mother knowing her son and I are intimate bothers me or not. She was very kind in the vision, giving me hope and making me want to hang on. All of that may have changed now that she knows. Mothers are protective of sons, especially those meant to rule one day.
Aaran’s shadow blocks the rising sun. “Stop worrying. You’re giving me a headache.” He grins at me so brightly that I know he’s not serious about the headache.
A s cool as it was at night, the rising sun makes the plains fairly hot. “Does it snow here?”
“It does. More here than it did in the east. It’s beautiful at home when the snow is fresh.” A hint of his worry that they may never see another winter in Domhan niggles at me through our connection.
Wishing I could assure him it will be fine doesn’t make it true. We may all die, and then perhaps we won’t care what happens to this world. “I’d like to see Domhan covered in snow. I always love how the world gets quiet when it snows at home. Fewer cars, the birds are silent, and the snow mutes much of the commotion in Princeton. I bundle up and sit on my patio with cocoa and watch until I’m wet through.”
“I would like to see that.” He narrows his gaze and stares ahead.
Something is moving toward us fast. “Oh, god. What now?” My gut knots, and I crouch, ready to run.
“We’re safe, mo chroi . I think Mother has sent some transportation.” He continues walking.
Following, I narrow my gaze to see what he means by transportation. The black spot approaching becomes a beautiful horse, bigger than any I’ve ever seen.
It lowers his head affectionately toward Aaran, and Aaran runs his hand up the beast’s nose, then pats his neck. “Hello, Gaofar. It’s good to see you.” Grabbing a handful of thick black mane, Aaran swings onto the horse’s bare back.
“Hand your pack up.” He wings my pack over his shoulder and extends his hand to me. “Come on.”
Drawing a deep breath, I wonder if my sore muscles can take the pounding of a horse’s hooves. I take his hand, and he swings me up in front of him. A small squeak escapes as I adjust to the change in altitude. “This is the biggest horse I’ve ever seen.”
His arms cradle me on either side. “Have you ridden before?”
“It’s been a while. We went on trail rides when I was little, and I took lessons as a teenager.” I take hold of Gaofar’s mane and hope my grip and Aaran’s arms are enough to keep me astride.
“This will be like riding air.” We start at a light trot. “Gaofar is the king of the horses of Siar Fàilte.”
“He’s very beautiful, and my feet are grateful for the ride.” I lean into Aaran’s chest. “I’m a little worried about my ass though.”
His chest shakes as he laughs. “Hold on tight.”
They must have a signal that’s imperceptible to me. Gaofar leaps into a gallop. I yelp at the sudden change, but an instant later, realize this is not an ordinary horse. His gait is so smooth and easy that it’s as if we’re flying. Still holding on, I relax into the ride.
The countryside whizzes past in a blur of green, brown, and blue. I breathe in the scents of this strange world. This is the first time since leaving my home that I feel safe. Perhaps I’m fooling myself, but a sense of ease surrounds me. Maybe we will live through this, or this could be the calm before the storm. Whatever it is, I’m relieved to slip out of fight-or-flight mode.
I don’t know exactly what I expected from the spring that feeds a second large river on this continent, but it’s more of a stunning oasis. The land before was beautiful, but this is another level of green and lush. Kelly-green grass covers the ground, and several rock outcroppings have water running down them as if the rocks are capping a water spout. Flowers bloom in lavender and yellow along the base and on the bank. The spring itself is fifty feet wide and twice as long. A lake, big enough that I can’t see what’s on the other side, lies just south of the spring.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Well, excluding the fairy glen.” My cheeks heat with the memory of that magical night, though it seems like a lifetime ago. “Does this spring feed that entire lake?”
As we walk along the north side of the spring, he says, “There are many springs underground that also feed Naomh Lake.”
As we turn south, Nainsi, Bert, and Fancor smile at us. Bert waves.
Three gray horses nearly as big as Gaofar munch grass near the spring.
Fancor strides toward us. “We were getting worried.” He pats the horse.
Aaran lifts me down to Fancor, who eases me to my feet.
I throw my arms around him. “I’m happy you are here.”
“Well, that’s nice.” He pats my back and blushes.
I hug Nainsi and Bert. “Where is everyone?”
Aaran lets Gaofar join the other horses, then shakes hands with Fancor and stands beside me, waiting for the answer.
Nainsi says, “The true queen sent carts and horses to transport us early this morning. Jax and the soldiers accompanied them to Tús Nua. We wanted to wait and reach the city with you.”
My heart aches a little from the sweetness of this gesture. “I’m happy to see you.” I feel Aaran’s trepidation before he speaks.
“How many did we lose to those portals?”
In a long silence, Bert and Nainsi look at the ground.
Clearing his throat, Fancor crosses his thick arms. “It’s a damned shame to get that close and…” He takes a breath. “We lost eight. Avon, four freed elves, and three of the littles, including Tal.”
It feels as if my heart will spill out on the green grass. I clutch my chest. “They were meant for me.” I crumple to the ground. That monster has three of those babies. “It’s bad enough to be an adult in her clutches, but the children. Tal is so strong, but how does a child survive amidst such evil?”
“They were taken to hurt you. There’s a difference, mo chroi ,” Aaran says.
Nainsi crouches to meet my gaze. “We’ll get them back.” She sounds so certain I almost believe her. “Right now, you need to pull yourself together, and we all need to go to the city. You must give the people hope that we can defeat the witch queen, Harper.”
“I don’t know if I can pretend to be something I’m not. I’m nobody’s hero, Nainsi. Those people in town are expecting some kind of magical miracle. Won’t they be disappointed when they see it’s only me?” I feel as if the world is crashing down around me. This is all too much.
Her lips pull into a straight line. “Do you think they are the only ones under the thumb of evil? My parents died for this cause. Many more will die before this is over. If you can’t stand up and walk into the city as a sign of hope, then we may as well send you back to New Jersey.”
“Nainsi.” Bert’s voice is soft but admonishing. “Enough.”
She takes a deep breath, and her expression softens. “Forgive me. You have been through a lot since you came here. More than you should have endured. All I’m asking is that you be the Harper Craig who walked through that portal in the woods outside of Clandunna because she had to save the village.”
It seems like a lifetime ago, but it was less than a month ago. Home seems like a distant memory. Sometimes it feels like I was in my condo a moment ago. Right now, it could be a lifetime in the past. It all feels the same. I shake my head to clear the stupid thoughts. Wiping my face, I stand. “You’re right. I came here to help. Everything I went through, and whatever our friends are enduring now, would be for nothing if I give up now.”
Nainsi pulls me into a brief, fierce hug, turns, and mounts one of the gray horses.
Grinning, Aaran takes my hand.
“You’re not disappointed in me?” My courage faltered. He should be disgusted.
With a shake of his head, he leaps onto Gaofar’s back. Once I’m securely seated in front of him, he whispers in my ear. “Fear is normal. Worry over our friends is expected. I never had any doubt that you would stand up. Never.”
That’s more than I can say. I had nothing but doubts. I lean into his chest, and we ride for Tús Nua.