30. Chapter 30
Vaelin's boots crunched on the loose gravel that peppered the mountain trail as he navigated the descent from the bridge.
Come on, Isla. Stay with me.
The words had slipped out of him without conscious thought, like an oath.
Did she feel it too? Did it matter?
He could no longer deny his feelings for her.
Could no longer explain it away as mere curiosity, as some unexplained connection related to his dream or the looming calamity that hung over them all like a sword at the back of their necks.
He could no longer convince himself that his attentiveness to her every move, every shift of discomfort, was in service to some misguided sense of responsibility to see this mission through.
He could no longer ignore the way his magic leapt at her voice, and calmed instantly at her touch.
He couldn’t deny the way his chest warmed at her smile, or that he struggled to keep his eyes off of her, or that his pulse raced when their bodies brushed.
And he was running out of excuses to touch her.
But she'd pulled away from him on that plateau, and he wouldn't push her.
He cleared his throat, shaking his head as though it might dislodge the mess of emotions that warred in his chest. The burnout was a raw and sharp reminder of just how much he’d pulled on his magic to ensure her safety, the taste metallic in his throat.
The exhaustion weighed down his muscles, his bones… but he had no regrets.
Evric moved to his side. He tilted his head at Vaelin, an eyebrow raised in question, but said nothing. Vaelin caught his eye, immediately looking away. Evric clapped him on the shoulder wordlessly.
Isla’s voice drifted on the wind, curling over his shoulder. He gritted his teeth at the urge to turn and look behind him to where she descended the mountain alongside Aurelia.
He was fine. He'd endure.
Isla struggled to pay attention to what Aurelia was saying about the Market they would likely reach tomorrow, her mind fixating on the need to disassemble the past hour of her life and put it back together in some way that made sense.
Come on, Isla. Stay with me.
His voice had sounded almost reverent, somehow richer than she’d ever heard it as his breath skated over her face, his forehead pressed against hers.
She shouldn’t interpret their closeness as anything more than what it had been — a moment of desperation.
A literal life or death experience. He’d needed to convince her, to distract her, to jar her into movement. And it had worked.
Still, she played it over and over in her head, like a melody she couldn’t hear enough of. The warmth of his palm enveloping hers where it lay against his broad chest, his fingers intertwining with her own.
But it hadn’t been anything other than necessity.
He was a fearsome, unbreakable fae warrior, and one of the strongest living windwielders.
She was a human healer who had never even travelled beyond her own realm.
And for some reason, he was determined to uphold his misguided impression that she was somehow the key to saving them all from the fate of this looming calamity.
He had a vested interest in keeping her alive, in seeing his mission through. It didn’t go any deeper than that.
And yet, she found herself now re-thinking every touch, every lingering look she’d explained away or tried not to acknowledge.
She thought of the look of quiet fury on his face in Brackenford, when he’d learned the severity of her injuries.
She shivered, remembering the feel of his fingers as they traced her skin, the warmth of his breath on her neck.
The way he had carried her up the stairs of the inn that night when her body could no longer hold her up after clawing that boy back from the brink of death.
The way his heart had raced, then slowed, beneath her palm as she’d woken him from his nightmare.
The press of his body against hers as the flood current crashed around them.
The fury in his eyes at her disregard for her own safety…
“Isla?”
She jerked, looking up at Aurelia. “Sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” Aurelia said, smiling. “Evric just said we’re going to make camp here for the rest of the day.
Vaelin and I are both feeling the burnout, and we’re all tired.
That was… a lot.” Her eyes slid out of focus, a shadow of grief passing over them, and Isla knew she was thinking of Alaeric and Bronwyin’s fall in addition to the stress of their own crossing.
She nodded mutely, scanning the small plateau they stood on. They’d descended quite a bit, the bite of the wind less sharp here, a few older pine trees providing some shelter. Vaelin was gone.
“He’s getting firewood,” Evric said, as though he had read her expression easily.
Isla nodded, attempting to put on a show of indifference as she shrugged off her satchel and placed it next to Aurelia’s pack.
Vaelin sat with his back to the mountain so that both the campsite and trail were in full view before him, a forearm resting across the knee of his one bent leg.
By the fire, Aurelia and Isla traded healing knowledge, Isla’s brow knitted in concentration, the high noon sun casting shadows across her face.
He dragged his eyes away, setting his jaw.
The metallic tang of burnout had subsided, his magical well already refilling — it was easier, in Vaelora.
Still, he had decided they’d take the day to rest and recover before making their way to the Market.
The sands would not be easy on them, and they had few days of relative comfort remaining to them.
Better to be sure they were all at full strength.
A pair of boots halted before him. He looked up at Evric, standing before him with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Vaelin raised an eyebrow.
“Alright, let’s go.” Evric clipped, and turned before Vaelin had a chance to decline.
Evric strode to the broadest section of the clearing, stooping to retrieve his short blades from his pack.
He looked back to where Vaelin still sat, glowering, and casually flipped one of his blades before pointing it at Vaelin.
“Come on, sweetheart. You can’t be that tired. ”
Vaelin’s glower darkened. “We’re supposed to be resting.”
“Fine,” Evric shrugged. “No magic. Just weapons. And I’ll go easy on you.”
Vaelin quirked an eyebrow at him. He sighed heavily, knowing that his friend was unlikely to be swayed, and rose from the ground, unsheathing his own sword.
They fell into step, circling each other as they had countless times before. Then Evric lunged forward, a testing jab with one of his blades. Vaelin deflected the blow easily as Evric grinned, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Just making sure you’re awake.”
Vaelin rolled his eyes. And then they moved in earnest.
Evric lunged forward again, this time spinning away as Vaelin moved to deflect, bringing both blades down in a punishing slash that Vaelin dodged just in time. He brought his longsword up in an arc, sunlight flashing off the blade, its tip just grazing Evric’s shoulder as he danced away.
But the firewielder was already attacking again, slashing, then parrying, jabbing and twisting.
Vaelin felt the familiar burn of his muscles as they rose to the occasion, the familiarity of the dance soothing his fatigued mind.
Thoughts of Isla, of the bridge, the calamity slipped away as he dodged, then slashed, his blade colliding hard enough to send one of Evric’s weapons skimming across the rocky earth.
Evric huffed in annoyance, advancing on Vaelin with renewed intensity, slashing viciously with his remaining blade.
Vaelin raised his blade to parry, and Evric grabbed the blade with his bare hand, his fist colliding with Vaelin’s jaw.
Vaelin reacted instinctively, ripping his blade back as he kicked out, the heel of his boot colliding with Evric’s sternum and sending him staggering backwards.
Vaelin licked his lip where blood dripped from the corner. “Fucking idiot. I could have taken off your hand. And that’s the second time you’ve punched me.”
Evric grinned wildly, blood dripping from his palm.
Isla felt her jaw slacken as she watched the two fae spar, an unfathomable storm of strength and violence.
She had thought she’d held her own against Vaelin when they had trained, but now…
she could see that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of his abilities that day.
She marvelled at the speed with which he and Evric spun and slashed, parried and blocked.
Neither of them used magic, just sheer brute strength as the metallic ring of blades clanged through the air, echoing off the surrounding mountains.
Next to Isla, Aurelia rolled her eyes.“Idiots,” she muttered.
She couldn’t look away. Evric jabbed at Vaelin as much with his words as he did with his blade, Vaelin rising to meet each blow with a ferocity that had Isla fisting her hands in her tunic. When Evric grabbed Vaelin’s blade with his bare hand, she gasped and Aurelia groaned.
Several minutes later, the men stood glaring at each other, their chests heaving as they dripped blood and sweat. Evric grinned at Vaelin, and to Isla’s surprise, a small smile curved Vaelin’s lips in answer.
They rose at first light, continuing their descent down the mountain as they headed toward the Market, where they’d stock up on the supplies they needed to cross the sands.
“Have you ever been to the market?” Aurelia asked Isla as they hiked.
Isla shook her head. “I went once with my mother, but I was young,” a memory flashed through her mind and she narrowed her eyes, as if to see it more clearly, “I remember… the colourful tents of the less permanent stands - these vibrant colours I hadn’t seen before.
And banners flapping from the more permanent fixtures - buildings of rock and timber, but mostly rock.
Sandstone, even, maybe? It seemed like a small city all built on one road. ”
Aurelia’s eyebrows rose. “That’s… a very good recollection from childhood,” she said, surprised.
Isla shrugged, “I’ve always had a good memory. Is it still like that?”
She nodded. “I’ve always loved the Market. Since it’s the only place, really, where people can sell their wares outside of their own realm, it always has this bustling mix of peoples from across the Continent. It sort of shows what things might be like, if we were all less… insulated.”
Isla looked at the fae, considering her words, but then a sudden humming of voices threaded its way up the mountain trail, pulling her from her thoughts.
No, not voices - moans. Cries.
Instinctively, she rushed to where Vaelin and Evric had halted just ahead of them, grim-faced as they stared down at the Market. Or what was left of it.
Isla’s memory had held true — it resembled a small village.
Or it had, before the landslide had decimated it.
In the aftermath, only wreckage remained.
The skeletons of buildings, many with only one or two stone walls remaining, lined each side of the Pass, forming what had once been the corridor of the bustling marketplace.
Less permanent structures - lay in piles of rubble, and ripped, vibrant fabrics.
Crushed rock, earth, and timber lay everywhere, a thick layer of dust coating both the structures and the people.
The moans of the injured were like a siren’s call to Isla’s ears.
She glanced to Aurelia. Her eyes held an ocean of concern threaded with a healer’s need to ease, to repair, that Isla felt in her bones.
She moved to brush past the men, eager to help where she could, but Vaelin held out an arm to bar her way.
“It may not be safe,” he said without meeting her eyes, his voice gravelly, “We don’t know who - or what - is down there.”
“What are you talking about? We have to help them,” she said, stubbornly.
He shook his head, “Not yet.”
She stared at him, but he kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on the wreckage spread out before them. Her temper flared. “Would you rather wait until more of them die from the shock? From blood loss? I thought you wanted to save lives, not condemn them.”
Vaelin ground his teeth, his jaw tight. Beside him, Evric pressed his lips together, eyebrows climbing. Her patience gone, Isla walked into Vaelin’s outstretched arm. She knew that if he’d wanted to, he could easily have stopped her, but he moved like water, allowing her to brush past.