Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Aiden
The Tears of the Gods had washed away the blood and grime from Aiden’s clothes.
His hair, grown out half an inch since he’d last shorn it, glowed silvery in the moonlight; he’d noticed as he took a look at his reflection in the puddle he’d used to shave, with the knife the Flames had given him, the beard that had formed since he’d left Ashthorn for Lory’s trials.
He still couldn’t believe he’d found a whole community of Flame-born in the mountain caves Falcrest had warned him of so many times. Perhaps because of Hodurac, the grumpy leonthor who’d bitten off heads of rebels and Ashthorn students to protect Lory during her trials, if he was to be believed.
With a glance at the cave mouth behind him, he reassured himself the creature wasn’t lurking, waiting to tear off his head for his questionable past, his blood and heritage, or the magic of unmaking that he’d referred to before.
Aiden still couldn’t believe he had that sort of power.
He didn’t even understand what it meant, but that didn’t change the bargain he’d made with the leonthor.
At least the Flame-born had welcomed him after their initial skepticism.
They’d told him stories of their history over a meal by the fire, had given him a place to sleep in one of the empty alcoves where the Flames slaughtered by the General of the King’s army and the brutal captain who’d killed his own men before, as the leonthor had phrased it, had slept before.
Falcrest had come there to kill Flames with Ycken. Aiden could barely believe that either. Only, their blood had left red stains on the cave floor.
For all the months he’d known the captain, he’d never done anything without a good reason, killing included.
He’d stabbed ashlings in the mess hall at the command of the Triad, only to save however many he could.
If he wasn’t the one to guide the weapon piercing their bodies, their death was certain.
This way, he bought them at least a chance.
He’d killed Criulian rebels, despite his Criu heritage, and the Guardians knew; the captain hated himself for it—but he did it to keep the facade of the ruthless warrior, loyal to the king. He did it, biding his time until Elina was free.
How he wished he were there to help free her. If there was anything he knew, it was that knowing a sibling suffered was worse than suffering himself. So he’d gladly risk his life to free the sister Falcrest had lost so early in life—like everything else.
Now that Aiden wasn’t more than a fleck of onyx in the shadows of the night, a whisper on the wind as far as the rest of the world was concerned, no longer alive, no longer owning a name, a home, or the right to anything other than to kill, he might be able to finally do something useful with his existence.
Running his fingers over his chin, cheeks, and jaw, Aiden made sure he hadn’t missed a patch of beard.
Then he wiped his face with a wet cloth.
He’d made his vow to bring Lory back to the leonthor, and he’d keep it.
In no way had he made a commitment as to when that would happen, so he didn’t look back as he headed into the darkness to meet with the man to whom he owed everything.
He didn’t lose his footing on slippery stones on his path down the side of the mountain, and he didn’t let the rain-swollen streams crossing his path stop him. With a flick of his fingers, the water froze solid, and he continued his hike, ignoring the mud and the water seeping into his boots.
By the time day broke, he saw the landmark Falcrest had mentioned on the horizon.
An inconspicuous formation of rocks, wide enough to hide a small cabin.
High trees shielded most of the gray stones from prying eyes, but Aiden was prepared for that, too.
Falcrest had given him other clues, like the shape of the mountain peaks if he approached from east, west, north, or south, the vegetation he was supposed to look for, the absence of caves and rebels.
This part of the mountains was fiercely Sen Dunai territory; no rebels had entered this piece of land, and Aiden wasn’t surprised they hadn’t, with the steep cliffs looming in the south and east, and the hidden vantage points the Brestolyan army had established along the west—and which Falcrest had told him how to avoid.
Aiden ducked past them, a ghost in the lush greenery that was soaking up the rain like lifeblood.
By sunrise, he was close enough to the rock formation to make out an overlap that indicated something more was hidden there.
His heart picked up pace, and his empty stomach stopped its rumbling; he hadn’t bothered bringing supplies, knowing what would wait for him at the end of this path.
Not far now… He’d rest and make it to the meeting point before tomorrow night ended.
Lifting his gaze to the cliffs blocking access to the Criulian border, Aiden climbed up the nearest tree and settled on a thick branch. He could sleep here for a few hours before he made the last leg of his journey. Before his name would forever be forgotten by the world.