Chapter 4

How long until we are summoned?”

Amarynn tore off another piece of bread and dunked it in her gravy. She scanned the hall while Bent considered her question. Her gaze settled on a group of men at the other end of the long hall. They were a mix of Legion and Travelers, soldiers she’d served with for many years. Four of them shouted and howled with laughter as the fifth man downed a tankard of ale in one long gulp. He slammed the heavy cup onto the table and lifted his head, his brooding stare locking with Amarynn’s. The corner of his lip curled in a sinister grin.

“Rynn, lass!” Bent snapped his fingers in front of her, breaking her thought.

“You didn’t tell me Matteus was in Calliway,” she whispered.

Bent followed her gaze.

“Rynn, leave it alone,” he warned.

She slowed her breathing, fixing her ire on the grizzled man at the end of the long table. He smiled openly at her; the lack of sincerity was evident. His face was marred. Firelight rippled across an abundance of knotty scars, and his oily, black hair hung over his ears in unkempt strands.

“Amarynn!”

She reluctantly broke her stare and picked at her food, taking long breaths to steady her shaking hands. Her foot bounced against the floor in a quick, agitated rhythm.

“Would it have made any difference if I’d told you?”

Amarynn looked past Bent, focusing on the men at the other end of the room. She always felt disdain from the other Travelers, but never as venomous as they were in the past two years. She had always known she was different from the others, but she could never put her finger on why.

From the moment she had appeared on the stone floor of Regealth’s aethertorium, Amarynn was raw and wild. Where the other Travelers were docile and confused at first, her anger and singular focus on destruction was a surprise. Regealth chose to call her Amarynn, an old Vhaleesian word meaning ‘shining star,’ to honor the unique circumstances that surrounded her crossing. At first, she had lived up to her name. She learned quickly, embracing the Legion and her role as a warrior without question. Her skill with weapons was uncanny, and her complete absence of fear in battle singled her out as the biggest threat the Legion could offer an enemy on the battlefield.

But despite being the most feared and revered of all the immortal Travelers, King Lasten had always excluded her. She received no invitations to galas and no inclusion in war councils. She lived simply and did what she did best. She killed, and she did it better than anyone. One by one, each member of the Legion elite distanced themselves from her growing anger. It had all come to a head one dark winter night.

She dropped her eyes to the table. Images of the last time she set foot in the practice yard played out in her mind, her memories clear.

A blade in each hand, she was destroying yet another unfortunate sparring dummy in the practice yard when they struck. Her arms were grabbed, pinned behind her back, while her blades clattered to the ground. She felt arms encircling her, squeezing so hard she lost her breath. They were like a vise, crushing her. She wasn’t afraid for her life — death was not possible — but the pain of recovery was nearly unbearable, should she sustain what would be a death blow to any mortal man. She could smell the rank sourness of Matteus’ breath as he leaned in close to her ear. “Bitch. You are nothing special. We’re tired of hearing your name.”

When the dagger was drawn across her neck, her body hovered near unachievable death, her blood spilling onto the cold and frozen ground. Hours passed before she was discovered.

Bent found her and took her back to his quarters. He enlisted the help of the precious few Travelers left that could still be trusted. He stayed with her as she fought her way back to the life she hated.

The old Blademaster knew what she would do.

Bent had told her stories about the other Traveler who left. Essik was in such a state of disarray, Bent said; he most likely went mad wherever he ended up. There were stories about a wild giant that haunted the Dark Mountains, howling and tormenting the folk who dwelled high up in the ranges.

Still, she was done. Why fight for a Legion that hated her? She already hated herself; she needed no help with that.

She recovered, as all Travelers do, but the moment she could walk and fend for herself, she left — slipped away in the middle of the night. She crept past Bent as he slept and left his room’s warmth and safety. As she slid through the night towards the stables, every sound and shadow made her jump. Amarynn still remembered the shame she felt for fearing the darkness. Thank the gods for Dax. He was one of the only beings she truly trusted. She recalled the relief that came with his warm breath on her trembling hands as she slid the bridle over his head. He carried her away on his back with such surety and strength. She almost wept for the comfort he gave her as they made their way into the night, away from Calliway and the Legion, away from the pain, and into the unknown.

The fingers of Amarynn’s right hand closed over the knife that lay beside her plate. Bent recognized the danger immediately, but she was on her feet so fast that he had no time to stop her.

She strode to the end of the table, the ring of her footsteps over the stone floor audible in the suddenly-silent room. Matteus kept his arms crossed, making a show of nonchalance that infuriated her. There was a collective holding of breath as she slowed her pace and stopped in front of him. The two immortals stared at one another for several seconds before he pushed his chair back and stood. He was at least a foot taller than her five and a half feet. Amarynn held her ground, refusing to look up. Her nostrils flared, and her jaw clenched as she turned to cast her derision on his cronies around the table.

“Fine night for cowards,” she said quietly. The corner of her mouth tugged up in a half-smile.

None of them moved; they tried their best to look unbothered. Matteus rumbled, “Welcome back, Rynn.”

She waited a full minute before turning back to him. She heard Bent’s careful footsteps behind her.

“Matteus.”

He wrinkled his crooked nose, sniffing in distaste.

“Who was stupid enough to let you in the gates?”

“Who would be stupid enough to try and stop me?”

Matteus stepped up to her, toe-to-toe. Her eyes were level with his chest.

“I thought we made it clear you aren’t wanted here.”

She inhaled deeply, a slow sneer creeping onto her face. She let the knife in her left hand fall to the floor while her right hand darted to the dagger’s hilt strapped to her thigh. In less than a second, the blade was at Matteus’ throat. His mud-colored eyes widened slightly, then darkened.

“You don’t have the balls,” he taunted.

“I’ve no balls at all.” Her sneer turned to a smirk as her left hand swept up her belted dagger and pressed it firmly into Matteus’ groin. “I wonder if you do.” She pressed harder. “Oh! There they are. We’re immortal, so do you think they’d grow back if I cut them off?”

Another Traveler, Cam, jumped to his feet in Matteus’ defense. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Cam didn’t have a chance to draw his weapon before he found Bent’s leveled at his chest. “Are you willing to bet on that?” The others fidgeted uncomfortably.

An uneasy silence descended, and Cam took a slow step back. Bent lowered his sword. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”

Keeping the blade at Matteus’ throat, she watched Cam slink back into his chair. Matteus laughed. “Who should we be afraid of? A little thing like you?”

He purposefully pressed himself into the edge of Amarynn’s blade as if he’d gladly accept her challenge. The metal pressed into his skin, a thin line of blood beading along the blade’s edge. After a tense moment, he sat back down and laughed as he took another long pull from his tankard. He swallowed deeply, then cleared his throat, turning to spit at the hearth. “You are only deadly to mortals.”

“As are you,” She gestured to herself with a slight bow, then sheathed her daggers.

Matteus’ face darkened.

She studied him a moment longer as a slow rage roiled in her belly, threatening to overtake her. Matteus wanted her to lose control, to prove their disdain for her was not without merit. Her hands clenched into fists, but she turned on her heel and walked past Bent, who sheathed his sword with his eyes still locked on Cam. She let her hand fall to the hilt of her short sword. Hushed voices and the crackling of the hearth filled the heavy silence.

“Go on, now! Run away as you do.”

Her steps stilled. Matteus snickered as his men resumed a quiet chatter. Bent stood his ground at the ready, unsure of what Amarynn would do.

Without a word, Amarynn resumed her pace and continued, stalking past the tables and out the door.

Night was fully settled on the city when Amarynn left the hall. She was still seething from the exchange with Matteus. She needed to remember exactly why she had returned, why she had decided to insert herself back into what she had worked so hard to leave behind. There was only one person now who could convince her to stay, and she needed to see him.

She slipped into a slim passageway partially hidden in the shadows past the kitchens. A narrow staircase twisted and wound down through the walls of the castle. She took the steps quietly, making turn after turn without hesitation, on pure instinct. This passageway was purposefully tricky, hallways off shooting in all different directions, but this route had been for her use alone since she had been allowed to leave the castle some twenty years ago.

The landing at the bottom was small, the space dominated by a decrepit wooden door. She raised her hand to rap lightly but hesitated. If Bent had come for her, everything was about to change, and stepping foot into the room beyond the door would ensure it. Regealth had promised to try to find a way to undo what had been done to her, and a summons from him meant she would find out if her wish were possible or not. Either way, her heartbeat was just a bit faster than it was earlier.

Just as she resolved to knock, the door swung open just enough for a man with greying hair and a beard to step into view.

“You are earlier than I expected,” he chided.

“I just arr—”

He held his hand up, and she closed her mouth. Experience taught her that arguing with Regealth was a no-win situation. She slid through the partially open door and leaned back against it to push it closed. The room had not changed in twenty years. These were the mage’s chambers, not the study where he worked on matters of state. This was the room that led to the aethertorium, her birth chamber. A deep hearth glowed with dying embers opposite where she stood, illuminating two deeply padded chairs in front of it. She had spent hours sitting there listening and learning in the weeks after she had arrived.

Water spilled from a crevice in the wall to her right, near the passageway leading to the aethertorium. The crystal-clear liquid collected in a pearlescent basin, then drained onto the floor below it, seeping into the crevices in the wall. This far down in the castle put Regealth’s chamber just above the aquifer that fed most of the springs in the hills to the south. As a water mage, Regealth relied on proximity to his element; he could be no closer to it than here.

“My girl.” Regealth looked her up and down, then smiled warmly, a tinge of sadness in his expression.

The candles on the table glimmered and cast familiar shadows all along the walls. This was the first home she remembered. Wandering to the small table, she unbuckled her sword belt and lay it on the short bench tucked partially beneath. Her eyes roamed the room. It seemed impossible all Travelers started here as their beginning, even the brute Matteus, though none of them had stayed here as long as she had. She walked around the table before taking a seat in one of the chairs by the hearth. Staring into the embers with her elbows on her knees, she waited for the mage to join her. His robes rustled as he eased into the chair beside her.

“These bones are old,” he scoffed.

She was silent, contemplating her next words. Her question was simple, but there was no way the answer would be anything but complicated.

“Why did you send for me?”

She heard his sigh and immediately knew the answer would not be what she had hoped for. She dropped her head into her hands.

The mage cleared his throat.

“I need you here if I am going to unlock the way back,” he explained. “I tried without you, with the few Travelers like you who can be trusted. Even Ehrinell helped,” he chuckled, “but I got nowhere.” He tapped one finger on his temple. “I believe I know why it didn’t work, though.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Why?”

“There’s a very long story to be told about that girl, but not tonight.” He leaned over and plucked a small decanter from a side table. He held it in the light, admiring the vessel. “Metheglin,” he said, “from the Handaals. A priest I once met had it sent to me. Quite a pleasant surprise!” He poured a small measure of golden liquid into a delicate glass goblet and sniffed it.

“Why not tell me tonight?”

“Because I am tired, and now I can rest well knowing you are back. I worry, you know,” he frowned and reached for her hand.

She pulled away.

“Did I come back for nothing?” she whispered. “I am to see the King tomorrow. I could face consequences.”

“Lasten is not unreasonable.” Regealth traced a finger around the edge of the cup.

Amarynn’s brow furrowed. “You know he doesn’t like me. He despises me. Can’t you intervene on my behalf?”

Regealth set his drink down and turned to face her. “You never should have left, girl. My issues become extraordinarily difficult when you do ridiculous things like run away!” The mage’s face was stern. “There are secrets about Travelers that only I possess.” He leaned close and placed a hand on her shoulder. “And you are right. He does have a reason to dislike you, but it is through no fault of your own.” Regealth patted her lightly and sat back. He picked up the goblet once more. “Now that I am close to discovering a reversal, he cannot know you came here at my request. That is why I sent Bent after you.”

“Bent and I have already discussed this.”

The mage took a sip of the metheglin. “Ah! Delightful!”

“Regealth!” Amarynn’s knuckles were white on the arms of her chair as she tried to contain her frustration. “I am back. I came back for you. Can you do it or not?” Amarynn waited, but he was silent. She shook her head. “You can’t give me any guarantees? Any hope? I need to know I came back for a reason.”

“Trust me, girl. There is a reason. Telling you now would only complicate things. I need you to be convincing because I need you to stay.” He took another small sip. “If only you hadn’t left to begin with,” he mumbled.

She grimaced and stood, snatching her belt and scabbard from under the table. Her exasperation and anger rose, threatening to take over if she didn’t leave soon.

Regealth used his free hand to shoo her away. “Go rest, girl. Make your case with Lasten tomorrow, and do not do anything foolish. Then we can see if what I’ve learned is worth something.”

She fastened the belt buckles around her hips and stalked to the door. She had come looking for answers to reassure her, but all she had were more questions. The one person who might have given her the hope and resolve to meet with the King (and not lose her head) had done nothing but add to her confusion. But that was Regealth. Nothing was ever easy with him. She took one last look over her shoulder at the mage, then closed the door behind her.

Amarynn knew Bent questioned whether he had done the right thing in bringing her back, as Regealth had asked. She repeatedly asked herself the same question as she climbed the twisting staircase and stalked out to the training yard. The night was crisp and clear, both moons shining brightly over the city. The barracks behind her bustled with sounds of soldiers, and part of her yearned to return to the warm glow of Bent’s room. But then Matteus’ smug expression crept into her mind, and she felt her rage begin to blossom.

Amarynn sliced and beat at the sparring pole for a full hour before retiring. She made her way to the stables and found Dax in the last stall, lazily chewing oats and swishing his tail. He swung his massive head around toward her as she opened the door, butting her with his nose. She gripped his ears and pulled his head into her chest, breathing in deeply when he blew softly and pushed against her. She slid to the ground, keeping one hand on his muzzle, and for the first time in three months, Amarynn, the legendary Traveler of the Legion of Karth, cried until she slid down into the hay and fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.