Chapter 18 Aendor
Aendor
Damien
The closer we get to Aendor, the more I worry about what we will find when we arrive.
Every village we pass has been raided by New Stygarde soldiers.
Every person we meet seems reluctant to even talk to us about what happened.
In our disguises, we blend in perfectly with the people migrating or trying to rebuild, but there seems to be no end to the destruction.
If this has happened in the Borderlands, what will our destination look like?
Brahm and Nevina can’t have made it easy on Tempest when we went missing.
The coastal territory would have been the first place the crown would have looked for us.
To top off my concerns, Eloise is keeping something from me.
She’s been quiet since we left the cabin.
Contemplative. Down the bond, I can feel there’s something she wants to ask me, but she’s not quite ready to broach the subject.
And I’m not ready to prod either. What if she’s changed her mind about Jaqual?
What if she wants to fall on her sword, sacrifice herself for the greater good, as she has so many times before, to improve our chances of success?
I scowl and slump in the saddle as I consider it.
Beside me, Warbill picks up on my sour mood. “You two are in rare form today. Did I miss a wagon of dead puppies, or has something else turned your personalities into black holes where all good humor goes to die?”
“I miss the days when you were starving to death and were too weak to share every thought that pops into that drink-addled brain of yours.”
“Drink-addled? Did I miss morning cocktails?”
“He’s worried what we’ll find when we reach our destination,” Eloise chimes in, raising an eyebrow. “And so am I.”
Warbill scoffs. “Oh yeah, we’re totally fucked. But we were fucked either here or there, so best to accept the inevitable with a smile on our faces.”
I turn my head to face Warbill and force a smile.
“Goddess, that’s frightening. I’ll stick to the scowl.”
Eloise chuckles.
It’s a few hours’ ride more until we reach Wickham Wood and enter Aendor through a narrow mountain passageway that borders Dimhollow. A single uniformed guard polices the border, and I’m relieved that he’s wearing the blue uniform of Aendor and not Nevina’s silvery white.
“Only one man?” Eloise says. “During a time like this?”
“Few know about this passage, and fewer still would risk being this close to witch territory. People fear this area just as they fear the forest.”
If we’d had the option to send a raven letting Tempest know we were coming, I would have.
It’s been weeks since we communicated. The last message I received from her was when we were under the protection of the mountain dwellers, and I have no idea what to expect tonight.
But reaching out through the shadow network is out of the question. Every shade in the area would feel it.
“Identification?” the guard mumbles.
“We’re spice traders, visiting Aendor for the market.”
He studies me more closely. “What type of spice?”
“Thanesia’s own,” I say, invoking the name of the goddess. “A spice fit for the true king.”
Now, he meets my eyes. “Enter. We need more of that flavor in Aendor.”
The gate rises, and we ride through. “Thank the goddess that still worked,” I mumble. “It’s been a while since Tempest gave me that code.”
“Thank the goddess you remembered it after those morning cocktails,” Warbill says.
Eloise chuckles.
The rocky terrain that marks the base of Mount Perilon gradually blends into the red sand beach as we near the coast. “The lord and lady of Aendor stay in the Palace of Dawn at the other end of the city. We’ll find Tempest and Thane there.
If we follow the coast, it will take us through the port, and then we can make our way to the capital. ”
“Wow, the red sand against the blue water and the purple moonset is stunning,” Eloise says. “I’ve only ever been here in an alternate reality, during my trial with Valeska. This is so much more.”
“The most beautiful view in Tenebris,” I say without a second of hesitation. Stygarde Castle and its surrounding grounds are beautiful, but they don’t hold a candle to this.
“I’d have to agree,” Warbill says. “I’d do anything to have Bolvet back to its former glory, but even I must admit, the view has always paled in comparison to this one.”
We take it in for a few seconds more, and I catalog this moment, this profound and indescribable experience of looking out on an unbroken horizon, as one more reason we must win this war. The dark elves can’t have this. They can’t take this from us.
“We should keep going,” Eloise says. “We haven’t eaten, and we’ve been riding all day.”
I nod. She’s right. We have to keep up our strength.
I can see our journey has weighed heavily on Warbill, who seems to sag in his saddle.
I cluck my tongue, and we set off for the city.
We reach the port as the moon sets. All three of us dismount, leading our rabble beasts through the congested marketplace.
A fist-sized lump forms in my throat at the state of things.
At one time, this marketplace was the envy of every territory, with ships docked at long wooden ports and a central market brimming with the freshest fruits and vegetables, the most beautiful jewels from our world and others, and any spice or root one could dream of.
Textiles that begged to be touched billowed in the sea breeze.
The colors and textures brought the region alive. One could obtain anything here.
Now, the docks have all been burned, as has the large open-air building with its many tables used for trade. Exchanges are still happening, but the goods arrive by dinghy, and the traders are operating directly out of the cargo boxes. The entire beach smells of char.
“Goddess, it’s worse than I ever expected,” Warbill murmurs. “Do we even know if Tempest is still alive?”
His fears are well justified. “I don’t. My last message to her was not returned, but of course, she would have sent it to the mountain dwellers using Dimhollow’s ravens.”
“It’s like walking through a funeral,” Eloise mumbles.
“I have to agree, little bird.”
“Let’s hope no one we know is in the coffin,” Warbill adds.
We exchange glances and hasten our steps.
It’s full dark by the time we reach the Palace of Dawn.
Aendor’s castle isn’t quite as large as Stygarde’s but is just as beautiful, constructed of slabs of pink quartz from the mines of Perilon.
It gleams in the moonlight as if it’s made of glass.
But although my memory recalls candlelit windows and acres of blooming gardens, the windows are dark now.
The front torches are extinguished. The garden is noticeably overgrown.
Although, a spark of hope ignites in my heart that it hasn’t been completely untended.
A few blooms are still in place, and weeds grow sporadically around the base of the plants but haven’t outgrown them altogether.
The gardener’s duties have been neglected for a matter of weeks rather than months.
I lead Borus around back but find no one in the stables, no guards, no signs of life. All the doors are locked.
“What now?” Eloise asks.
Warbill answers for me. “Now, we take our disguised selves to the local pub and inquire about the happenings of the last several weeks. Mark my words, if you want to know something, you ask at the tavern.”
“The best plan I’ve heard all day is the one where we sit down and drink a beer,” Eloise says.
We all journey to the center of the territory, encouraged by an increase in activity there, and find a pub called the Maiden’s Voyage, where a somber man in a filthy shirt serves us ale.
“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, what happened here?” I try my best to sound simple, like a man who grew up on a farm in the Borderlands.
The bartender looks over his shoulder then steps in close to the table.
“Same as what’s happened everywhere. That blond harlot on the throne come burn everything down looking for Prince Damien and his mate, assuming we’re hiding them here.
If he were here, you bet your ass we’d be helping him, but he’s not.
Fucking Banias ruined half the territory looking for him, though.
We were blessed by the goddess that the fire didn’t reach the Maiden. ”
“What happened to the lord and lady?” Eloise asks. She clears her throat and adds, “We passed the palace on the way here, and it looks abandoned.”
“They’re not dead, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The man takes notice when we all breathe a sigh of relief.
“What brings you three to the territory anyway?” the man asks.
“If someone would like an audience with the lord and lady, where would they go to find them?”
The man’s face grows impassive. “I’m just a barkeep. Wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“We’re spice traders,” I say. “Thanesia’s own. A spice fit for a king.”
The man rubs his stubbled chin. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. But…if you need a place for the night, I have a few rooms upstairs. Best view of the harbor.”
“We’ll take two.” I toss a gold quill on the bar.
He picks two brass keys off the rack behind him and slides them across the bar to us. “Upstairs. This one—” he twirls the slightly larger of the two between his fingers “—is to the door at the end of the hall. Make sure you visit that one first.” He hands it to me with a wink.
We abandon our unfinished beers on the bar and climb the steps to the second floor. Eloise’s still-disguised hand slips into mine as we walk down a long, narrow hall to a heavy wood and metal door that looks as if it belongs in a dungeon rather than an inn. I slip the key into the lock.
“Nothing foreboding about this situation at all,” Warbill mutters.
I press a finger to my lip and slowly swing open the heavy door. We all step into the dark chamber beyond, where it takes my night vision a few seconds to adjust.
The door slams behind us, and a pair of swords presses into our throats. “You’d best tell us what you know about spices.”
Candles flicker to life in the antechamber, and I look into the face of a man I once knew very well. “Lord Thane?” I tug Eloise’s hand, and she drops the spell disguising us.
“Prince Damien!” The older shade lowers his sword and slides it into its sheath, then motions for a younger man who I don’t know to do the same. Thane’s gaze darts between me, Eloise, and Warbill. “Thank the goddess! Welcome to Aendor.”