A roar of triumph swelled from General Shadowalker’s soldiers as the golden canopies of the Golden Grove came into view, bathed in the mist of azure waterfalls. Swarms of pygmy dragons took to the sky from their wildflower nests, glittering in a riot of jewel tones. They winged through the Golden Grove’s ancient trunks, dodging through doors and windows that had been grown inside the gold and silver-veined wood. One of the last bastions of magic left. If it were to fall, the thrice-accursed war would be lost.
The anticipation and excitement resonated so deeply through the soldiers they practically hummed. Another victory. Another haul of food for the rebellion and all those that relied on it. The parties alone would last well into the night, flooded with cheap ale and high spirits.
Aspen leaned against her saddle pommel and watched her troops. They eyed her beneath their leather helms, awaiting that final order before they could consider their mission complete. None of them broke formation, but their longing was palpable. She let the silence drag on, seeing if any of them would break. They didn’t.
Aspen’s heart swelled with pride, and she allowed herself a small smile. “Go on, then,” she said.
The deluge would have been no greater if she had thrown open a dam. The soldiers’ whoops knocked birds scattering into the fading evening sky and rattled the trees’ golden leaves. Even though she had released them of duty, they each stopped first to salute her, two fingers to their lips, before making their way into the village. Elves—mostly elderly with stooped backs and white hair, or children clutching to the hems of robes—poured from their homes and welcomed the soldiers back with hugs and cheers and offerings of food. None of the soldiers accepted the food—it was too precious a commodity to take from their own people—but the gesture was appreciated.
Aspen watched as groups laughed together and pantomimed their success. Her heart warmed in her chest. Twenty years of war had taken many things, but it was moments like that that made her remember their sacrifice was worth it.
“They’re a little livelier than usual tonight, wouldn’t you say?”
Aspen turned to her cousin, Ash, who had sidled her mount beside hers. The trees’ golden glow haloed her honey-blonde braid and small face smudged with dirt from their journey. Her gray-green eyes were nearly the same color as the feather fletches on the quiver of arrows she carried across her back. Aspen’s mount, Stormbreaker—a massive, dapple-gray unicorn—shifted beneath her, snorting and tossing his head in greeting to Ash’s.
Aspen scratched him beneath his mane. “As they should be. A victory against the soldiers at Bael is no small feat.”
“Helped in no small part by the legendary General Shadowalker, of course.” Ash looked at her with an impish grin and waggled an eyebrow.
Aspen rolled her eyes. “Perhaps. But now Aspen Tanner is going to bed.”
“Good. If you wake up before noon tomorrow, I’ll tie you to the bed until you get some proper rest.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Aspen clicked to Stormbreaker and away they went. She waved to Ash over her shoulder.
She followed the outskirts of the Golden Grove proper, nodding to elves as she passed. The older ones eyed her with disdain and stepped back a few paces as if she might taint them. Whispers of half-blood curse and coward followed in their wake. The children waved and offered hay to Stormbreaker. They gave Aspen hope.
She stopped at a small hut nestled just outside of the golden tree line. Vines climbed their way up the walls and had nestled beneath the shingles, and cobwebs had gathered in the corners of the windows and doorway.
A hollow pit formed in Aspen’s stomach even as relief washed through her. She was home, but it was an empty one devoid of the life and color that had once filled every corner of the clearing.
Aspen dismounted and unsaddled Stormbreaker. She gave him a thorough brush down until his silver coat shimmered and then sent him on his way to roam where he pleased. He whiffled at her cheek before trotting into the trees to find his herd.
Aspen watched him go and then waited for the moment she had watched from her bedroom window nearly every night of her life.
The sun dipped behind the Architect’s Heart, the mountain range shaped in a protective ring around the Golden Grove, and a great sigh went up from the trees. The leaves shimmered and rustled, and their golden light dimmed. A few moments later, the first moonbeams caressed the trees, and the leaves shed their golden coats. Golden hues faded to silver in the moon’s embrace and drowned the grove in their brilliance.
Whenever you’re here to see the leaves turn from gold to silver, you’ll know you’re home.
Aspen rubbed the base of her left thumb, the mark beneath her bracer burning. She remembered the boy that had told her that. Remembered the promise they had made to each other.
And how she had shattered that promise.
Aspen trudged through her door, knapsack weighing on her shoulders and sword heavy at her side as the nostalgia turned bitter in her mouth.
The silver leaves gilded every edge of her cottage. Dazzling specks of dust were wisping away from the open door. She grimaced and slammed the door against the light, drew the curtains tight, and basked in the blessed dark. She could forget for a moment the dust that had built up over her months of absence, that she had left a dish or two in the sink, and that she was alone in a home that had once been full of life.
Aspen unbuckled her sword from its sheath and hung it in its place against the wall. Her knapsack she dropped to the floor without preamble, and then she slumped into her chair next to the cold hearth. She could have lit it. She could have lit a candle, at the very least, but the night was warm, the hour too late, and the price of getting up was far too great.
Now that she had settled in, though, the ache of battle crept through her bones. The jagged wound that ran from her right shoulder to her left hip throbbed. She’d have to have Ash help her with some salve eventually.
Aspen flexed her shoulders and stretched her neck. Despite her soldiers’ success, a worm of worry crept at the corners of her mind. She tried to shake it off. The ambush at Bael had been as fruitful as she had hoped. They had secured more supplies for the rebellion, caused some mayhem, and had gotten away with no casualties. On either side. A perfect mission.
And yet, the worry remained. She had a knapsack weighed down by snatches of paper, clustered together from correspondents across Loralan. Nothing significant. Nothing alarming. Save for a single name woven through them. Lorate. A nothing fort in a tiny village, unimportant to the rest of the world.
Weariness settled across Aspen’s bones. “We’ll settle it tomorrow,” she said to herself.
She hummed to herself as the blanket of sleep hovered over her eyes. When was the last time she slept? She couldn’t remember. She ought to get into a proper bed. It wouldn’t do to be sore for roll-call the following morning. She had to…
Sleep…
She was nearly there when someone rapped on her door. “Aspen?”
Aspen rolled her eyes to the ceiling and curbed a sigh. Maybe if she didn’t move, they’d look for her somewhere else and leave her in peace.
Another knock. “I know you can’t let a mouse by without waking up, Aspen. I hate to interrupt you, but we have to talk.”
Aspen padded to the door with a groan. “Ash, you’re absolutely certain this couldn’t have waited until morning?”
Ash folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Considering I usually have to force you to sleep, you think I would do this if it was avoidable?”
Aspen opened the door wider with another sigh. “I suppose you can come in, then.”
“As if you could stop me.” Ash slid past her with a smile. “I’d light a fire to brighten up this den of yours, but we don’t have time for that.” She lit a few candles and sat down. The cheeriness melted from her face the moment Aspen closed the door. Concern pulled tight around her mouth and eyes.
Aspen edged into the seat across from her, a thousand thoughts circling through her mind. “What’s wrong?”
Ash steepled her fingers and pressed them against her lips. She watched Aspen, eyes darting back and forth. Studying her for who knew what. Aspen had long since learned the art of silence, but something about Ash’s piercing, gray-green gaze was always too much for her. She shifted in her chair as much as she could stand before finally snapping.
“What?”
Ash leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. “There’s really no good way to tell you,” she said into her palms. She slid her hands away from her face and pulled her hair back tight. “There’s been another prince sighting.”
Aspen’s heart plummeted to her seat. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. A lump caught in her throat and choked her. Stars swam in her vision as her ears rang and blood fled from her face. All thoughts of sleep vanished in a second.
“No,” she said, not realizing it had been audible. Not again. She couldn’t do this again. How many times now? Five? Six? She had lost count against the raw, aching heartache that drained the lifeblood from her veins. She couldn’t look at another pair of too-blue eyes—another smile not quite crooked enough. Each hope dashed to pieces against the bitter rocks of reality. “He’s dead, Ash.” The croak finally made it from her constricted throat. “Haven't we been through enough to know? Haven’t I?”
“Aspen, I know. Sweet Sister Earth, I know.” Ash leaned back in her chair, eyes cloudy as she watched the candles’ dancing flames. “I hate to bring this to you. Especially when the last one was so…” She glanced at Aspen, searching for a word. Probably one that would best spare her feelings.
Aspen was too old to be coddled. “Disastrous? Horrific? Catastrophic in every way because I let my desperation cloud my judgment?”
“I suppose that’s…several ways to put it,” Ash said.
Aspen massaged the bridge of her nose, a dull ache settling in behind her right eye. “Have them send someone else. Or better yet, no one at all. Can’t they let his memory finally rest in peace?” She bit back the emotion that threatened to reach her voice.
“He’s the only one that can lay claim to the throne and give us legitimacy,” Ash said with regret. “We have to take any chance we can to find him.” She looked at Aspen. Aspen’s inner hurt was reflected in her face. “And you are the only one we can trust with certainty to get it right.”
Aspen shut her eyes; closed out the world for two moments. The only moments she could spare. She cursed to herself. “I won’t do it, Ash. If someone wants to bring him to me, fine.”
Ash closed her eyes, the pain evident on her face. “You know that’s not how this works.”
“Make due, then.” Aspen knew she was putting Ash in an impossible position. She knew this wasn’t her fault. But Aspen could not do it anymore. To herself or anyone else. “I have soldiers to train here, and I’m sure orders will come from Dallowyn any day now of where he wants us next.”
“They could do without you for a few days. Lorate’s only a three day’s ride at—”
“Lorate?” Aspen’s stomach plummeted. Not Lorate again. That had been another dread she had hoped to bury. Aspen crossed the room to her knapsack, despite her aching joints, and retrieved her satchel of messenger pigeon scrolls. She dug through them until she retrieved a bundle tied together. All in various handwriting. She sat down again and studied them in the candlelight. “Why does that place keep coming up?”
Ash craned her neck to see. “What is it?”
“Messages from the scouts. Several of them have made passing remarks about Lorate; said that it’s come up in several conversations across the kingdom. Nothing substantial or out of the ordinary, but this many at once…”
Ash crouched next to her and ran her fingers over the scrolls. “Maybe it’s a sign?”
Aspen snorted. “Doubtful. But it warrants some extra study, at least.”
“I’d say quite a lot of things require further study, namely your ability to control your soldiers, oh esteemed General.”
Aspen shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. She needed to employ a guard dog. Or twelve.
“Elder Inula, to what do we owe your visit?” Aspen asked as she glanced to the doorway where a new visitor had emerged.
The tall, regal elf glowered beneath the copper circlet on her brow. The flaxen tresses combed past her knees stood in stark relief against her deep green robes, and she clasped her long, graceful fingers in front of her. “I thought you ought to know already,” she said, her green eyes dim with aloof disgust. “General Shadowalker has eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?”
“None where your oversized nose can’t reach, apparently,” Ash grumbled to herself.
Inula’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have something you wished to share, Ash?”
Ash beamed a dazzling mockery of a smile. “Nothing at all, mother, except to tell you how radiantly spiteful you look this evening.”
Inula’s grasped hands tightened. “I told you never to call me that.”
“Radiant?” Ash asked airily.
“Mother.”
“Oh, but I thought you were all about titles?” Ash placed her hand on her chest, her face screwed up in exaggerated apology. “Or is that only for ones you feel you’ve earned?”
Aspen withheld a snort.
“Enough, whelp,” Inula said. “You are lucky I allow your presence here at all after your banishment.” She turned to Aspen, cutting Ash out of the conversation. Ash made a face and a few unsavory gestures. “You are to go to Lorate at once,” Inula said.
A new wave of dread settled over Aspen. That place again. Her reluctant resolve to go doubled, but she couldn’t let Inula know that. “My apologies, but I am otherwise detained. Unless these are orders from General Dallowyn, I’m afraid—”
“They are.” Inula handed her a ribbon-bound scroll with a smirk. “His network has uncovered a plan for Lorate to invade the Golden Grove. Heard some fool nobles discussing it over dinner.” She brushed an errant strand of hair over her shoulder. “We don’t know when or how, but anticipate it will be in the next few months. Although my personal force is formidable, and your soldiers are…adequate, they will not match the numbers Osmen will send after us. We must request aid from the Midnight Fens while their gateway is active in Lorate.”
Aspen’s mouth went dry. An invasion. Already, her mind buzzed with preparations that had to be made. She would have to appoint someone to oversee training and general management while she was gone. Her soldiers would have to give up some of their accommodations to provide room for the Midnight Fens’ forces. Food would need to be reallocated—
She shook her head. All that in time. Right now, Lorate was their only path forward. Aspen nodded and took the scroll from Inula. She felt the buzz of protective magic around it. Duplication spell, most likely, in case something were to happen to it.
“We will ride at once,” Aspen said, the words dull and lifeless in her mouth.
“No mounts,” Inula said.
“You can’t be serious!” Ash leaped to her feet, cheeks flushed with outrage. “That’s a two-week journey by foot!”
“The Midnight Fens do not tolerate beasts of burden of any kind. It will already be a miracle if they let half-bloods such as you in.” She looked Aspen and Ash up and down with contempt. “Besides, your mounts have just returned from a long journey. They require their rest.”
Ash clenched her fists, her lips pressed tight. “Ah, yes, but the half-bloods are disposable, is that right?”
Aspen clamped a hand around Ash’s arm before she could say anything else. “We will leave immediately.” She bowed to Inula, the movement stiff and reluctant, and forced Ash out the door.
“Oh, and General.”
Aspen stopped with a masterfully concealed sigh but didn’t turn around.
“Your purpose here is based solely on your ability to perform. Don’t fail us again.”
The words fell like death knells on Aspen’s ears.