Isik and I stood together until the pounding of our hearts slowed, then I stepped away.
He ran his hands over his beard, letting out a short breath. “So he is here.”
I nodded, still too awestruck to speak, and touched my hair where the Bear had breathed on me. It was warm, and a little damp. I shivered. “I think he has been from the beginning. I saw him, on the shores of the Headwaters.”
Isik shook his head, overcome. “I thought I saw him too, once, perhaps twice. But I was never sure. He seems… content, to leave us in peace?”
I nodded. The memory of the Bear’s eyes still saturated me, but other concerns began to resurface.
“Did you hear the voice?” I asked. “Before the Bear came.”
“When I arrived, he was already here. What voice?”
I told him, explaining how the sound had seemed to come from the earth itself, how the roots had spasmed and the foxfire had awoken.
“This foxfire isn’t… normal,” I added, gesturing at the night. Tendrils of illumination remained among the trees, but I could barely see them now in the firelight. “It dimmed when Aegr was near, and I’ve seen it during the day. It burns even when the forest is dry. And the colors, they’re not right. And,” I added with growing realization, “I’ve seen it before. In the High Halls, that night we spoke in the forest.”
Isik’s brows drew together. “Have you noticed there’s more of it, the further east we go?”
I suppressed a shiver. “Yes. It seems a great coincidence, the foxfire waking when the voice came. Whoever spoke asked me to free them, Isik. And if I’m right, Aegr chased them away. Or at least, they fled his coming. The foxfire dimmed where he passed, too.”
Isik surveyed the night for a somber, contemplative moment. The fire crackled at our backs and the forest slowly regained its sleepy chorus—the repetitive call of a nightbird and the occasional dance of dry leaves in the wind.
“I have no answers, though I suspect Aegr might, if he could speak. Perhaps he came because of the voice,” the Miri suggested. “Or perhaps they were both drawn to you for the same reason. Did you use your magic again?”
I searched for the rebuke in his voice. But there wasn’t one. Just a question. In fact, the hard edges he’d worn when he left seemed to have faded and his gaze was concerned, but not accusatory. Perhaps he’d reconciled himself to my sacrifices?
“No,” I answered simply and pushed the topic aside. We could do nothing more than stew in our own questions, and my brother was still missing. “Did you find Berin?”
“I didn’t. But I found a village. Arune rules there, if what I saw was any indication. The people speak Fith, but they do not seem to be allies with the riverman’s folk.”
“The riverman spoke of another clan of Fith who had a foreign ‘god,’ ” I shared, though the mention of gods and worship felt heavy on my tongue, charged with more potential conflict. “He called them the Aruth.”
Isik gave a thin laugh. “Aruth. Arune. Gods below, he’s conceited. Your companions are there, except for Berin and Ursk. I saw no sign of them.”
“They’re all right? Seera and the rest?”
“They’re alive and looked as though they were being cared for.”
Relief and unease sifted through me. “So Berin and Ursk escaped and carried on to the coast.”
Or they’re dead, I thought. I’d heard Berin’s horn, but that didn’t mean he had been the one to blow it, or that he had lived long after that.
I dropped a hand to the horn at my own belt, anchoring myself to the smooth, cool feel of it.
Isik nodded. More tension ebbed from his frame and he glanced back at the fire and the pot of stew. He looked so human in that moment, so tired and hungry.
I crouched and started to reach for the pot, shielding my hand with a fold of skirt, but he beat me to it.
“Let me,” he said mildly, his mind clearly elsewhere. He sat by the fire and edged the stew out of the coals with a stick. I offered him a spoon from my pack, and he began to eat with obvious hunger. His shoulders slumped as he chewed and he smiled in satisfaction. “I forgot what a good cook you are.”
“Don’t tell the others.” I waved a finger at him, though the humor felt forced. It seemed we were both going to ignore our earlier conversation, and I was glad for it. Perhaps we need never speak again of love and worship and obligation. We could return to being friends. “Then I’ll be cook and story-singer and healer.”
“Our secret,” he said through another mouthful. “Tomorrow I’ll go to the lake and see these Hask. That’s the direction Berin and Ursk went, last sign I saw of them. That man Ursk is very good at hiding his passage.”
Another day of waiting. Displeased, I prodded at the fire with a stick, nudging a charred chunk of wood deeper into the flames. “Do you think—”
Arune stepped from the shadows, glancing around with overdone curiosity. Isik was up in a flash, woodcutting axe raised, and I snatched up my staff.
In the firelight I saw Arune clearly for the first time. His face was beautiful, almost feminine, white hair wild and wind-tousled, except for where it was bound back at the temples in thin braids, twined with black threads and hung with fine animal teeth. A long tunic slit at the hips clothed a narrow-hipped, athletic frame with long, trouser-clad legs and well-kept wrapped leather boots, embossed and braided with intricate depictions of snow and wind.
The Winterborn eyed Isik. “Greetings, Son of Esach. Yske.”
“I hear you have my people captive,” I stated, pleased when my voice came out cool and devoid of emotion. “Release them.”
Arune appraised me momentarily. “They’re not prisoners, just… surprise houseguests. You’re welcome to fetch them, whenever you please. I’ve just come to arrange the payment of your debt.”
The ease with which he agreed made me suspicious. “Who do you want me to heal?”
“My sister. A desire I’m sure you can understand.”
My apprehension began to retreat into the clear, analytical purpose Aita had taught me. “What is wrong with her?”
“As I told you, Logur tried to use my blood to open a door to the High Halls, some seven years ago. That blood was, in fact, my sister’s. My kin’s.” Arune delivered his words with a deadly lightness. “But she is immortal as I, and had no death blood to spill. Yet her wounds were grave, so now she sleeps in a tomb of ice. Heal her and I will consider your debt paid in full.”
I came to stand next to Isik. “You’ll free my people and swear to do us no harm?”
“Yes.” Arune nodded with overdone graciousness. “I’ll even lead you to your brother. I know where he is now, he and the other that escaped with him. And I’ll allow your people to winter with mine— largely to keep you from causing trouble, but I could also use a healer and more good warriors within my walls. Trust me when I say you will not survive alone in this land, and the other clans in this region are prone to butchery. The Hask may throw you to their bears. The Fith to the riverman’s monsters.” His eyes moved to Isik. “You really should leave though, and take your blood with you.”
Isik let out a gust of breath and glanced at me. “So everyone tells me.”
“Regardless, come to my hall in the morning,” the Winterborn concluded, with a vulpine smile. “You already know where it is.”
Isik scowled. “You followed me back.”
“You’re a child, young Miri,” Arune said, a doting uncle despite the fact that they, deceptively, looked no more than a year or two apart in age. “I may be a half-blood but I’ve walked this world longer than you. So believe me when I tell you that I do not simply ride the winter wind. I am the wind. It is I. And it whispered of your presence for many days before you trespassed here.”
I saw a flush creep up Isik’s neck and his fingers tighten on the axe, knuckles white.
“We will be there,” I promised, brushing Isik’s arm with one hand to keep him quiet. He stilled beneath my touch. “Thank you, Arune.”
Arune seemed delighted by my politeness. He offered a bow, white hair falling forward and the fine animal teeth in his braids tinkling.
“Until tomorrow,” he said, and vanished to the wind.
* * *
Thunder rolled, rain drenched the forest, and Isik let his human façade fall away. In my Sight his Miri aura saturated the gloom, drifts of dust the color of soaked slate, edged with gold. It swirled and gusted without heed to raindrops or shuddering leaves. His shoulders were level, his chin high and his pace determined but smooth, a king in his court. The son of a once-goddess, surrounded by her power. Fueled by it.
My breath was shallow as I followed in his wake, staff in hand and Nui at my side. I’d rarely seen my friend in this state, and it impacted me more than I wanted to admit, fanning the embers of thoughts and truths best left untouched.
The pull of him was… intoxicating. I told myself this reaction was purely physical, a natural response to seeing someone who was objectively beautiful, soaked with rain and at the height of their power. There was nothing spiritual about his draw, no soul-deep tug of worship, nor the inexplicable bindings of romantic love.
Still, when he looked back to check on my progress and I saw the familiar lines of his face, the coolness in his eyes, his words came back to me.
I’ve never had worshipers… but I feel the lure of it.
I coaxed my expression into impassivity and looked away. This show was for the Aruth and Arune. Not me.
The forest ended and the walls of Arune’s settlement came into sight. Rain battered a network of fenced, dying gardens and shelters for animals, running right up to the palisade. Throughout, chickens and rugged goats watched us through the downpour with the same steady silence as the guards at the high, narrow gate.
Arune waited, framed by open, iron-banded oak doors and half a dozen warriors with spears and helmets. The rain did not touch the Winterborn, though his hair stirred in the breeze. When lightning laced across the sky, light flooded his pale-skinned face and made his white hair glisten like silver.
The eyes of the guards—boasting the distinctive eastern cheekbones and rain-soaked brown hair—fixed on the two Miri-blooded men, awe leaking through their stalwart exteriors. I felt it too. The power of the moment was undeniable, but I kept my composure.
Arune cocked his head to one side, blue eyes flicking from Isik to the sky above. “Remind me never to fight you in the rain,” the Winterborn commented dryly, then stepped aside and threw out an arm, welcoming us to the settlement. “Come.”
We passed through the muddy, rain-splattered streets. Despite the weather, locals clustered in small windows and open doorways, or lingered under the dripping eaves of wood-tiled roofs. Nui pranced past a few growling dogs, unbothered by their hostility, and I laid one hand on her sodden back.
Arune’s hall was built in the style of the far north, circular with an outer tier and a lower central pit, where a fire burned away the chill and damp. Carved animal totems sat atop the ceiling’s spoke-like beams, each one watching us enter. A few villagers passed to and fro, stoking the fire and tending three cooking tripods which filled the air with the scent of baking flatbreads, roasting venison, and a pot of earthy mushroom stew. Smoke trailed up toward a broad chimney, where sparks danced in the shadows.
Not far from the flames, I saw my companions. Askir, Bara, Sedi, Ittrid, Esan, and Seera hovered as if they’d only just entered the hall themselves, their hair and clothing wet from rain.
They perked up as one as I stepped inside, though Askir’s eyes immediately jumped to Isik at my shoulder. Bara and Ittrid sprinted across the wooden floor, outpacing the priest.
Bara pulled me into a firm, relieved embrace. Ittrid took his place a moment later, enfolding me in warm arms and the scent of smoke and a sweet medicinal herb that made me take her arm as she pulled back. The smell came from a paste, crusted beneath a bandage at her collar.
“I’m fine,” she told me. Her smile was warm but I saw the strain behind it, the days of anxiety and frustration. “Their healers have been good to us.”
“You’re alive.” Bara squeezed my shoulder. “The Winterborn told us, but I hardly believed him.”
Arune tsked. “You’re so distrustful.”
“Why are you with a Miri?” Askir cut in, still eyeing Isik. “A full-blooded one, at that.”
Bara glanced at the tall form of Isik behind me and kept his hand on my shoulder.
Before I could reply, Sedi, Esan, and Seera closed in. All sported a mosaic of minor injuries and several more serious ones, Seera’s arm in a sling and the fabric of Esan’s tunic showing layers of bandages beneath.
Esan nodded and smiled in a rare display of affection, though he gave none of that smile to Isik. Sedi smiled and Seera looked almost relieved to see me, though her eyes roamed, noting the distance Isik and I kept from one another.
“This is the son of Esach,” I explained. “Sent by Aita.”
“Fathered by Gadr,” Askir concluded.
“The priest knows his business,” Arune commented, fluffing his hair out with his fingers to dislodge the rain.
“I’m Algatt,” Askir replied to the Winterborn. “Gadr is still our ruler, under Thvynder, and he is not quiet about his relationship with Esach. But why is a Miri here?”
“Aita sent me,” Isik said, repeating my earlier assertion. “I assure you, I’ve only come to help. There have been rumors of strange sights in the Unmade. I came both to investigate and protect Yske.”
“And Yske and I have struck a deal,” Arune cut in, usurping the conversation.
“Let’s sit,” I suggested to the Winterborn. “Perhaps drink something warm while we dry off and I explain the situation to my companions?”
Arune nodded and called to the villagers at the hearth. A few moments later, we clustered in a corner of the hall, steaming cups in hand. Arune left us with a half-bow, and my companions and I were alone with Isik and the servants, the latter of whom studiously ignored us.
“Have you been treated well?” I asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” Ittrid admitted, grudgingly.
“We’re captives,” Sedi growled.
“We’re fine, for now.” Bara glanced across the hall as if he feared we’d be overheard. “Where are Berin and Ursk?”
“According to Arune, they went east toward the Hask. We’ll follow them soon.” I sniffed at my tea, which no one had touched yet, and sipped it. The flavor was sweet, pine touched with honey. Not so different from home, I thought with a pang of longing. “I’ve agreed to heal Arune’s sister, in return for your freedom and finding Berin.”
“Where is this sister?” Ittrid asked. “We’ve seen no other Winterborn.”
“I’m not sure. But Arune will tell me where, I’ll heal her, and you’ll be free. We’ll find Berin and figure out what to do.”
“What can we do?” Seera asked. “Winter’s coming. We can’t turn back now.”
“We’ll survive,” I promised, running my gaze over each of my companions in turn and conjuring a soft, courageous smile. I didn’t think of Berin then, lost and alone with Ursk. I didn’t think of Isik’s pending departure, Arune’s offer of shelter, or the riverman out for my blood. I just took in the faces of my companions, alive and near, and smiled. “We will get home.”