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Chapter 43 Cirri
It was easy to hate cruel men, to hate monsters without a giving bone in their body. It was easy to hate wargs, and selfish little boys like Miro.
Hating Hakkon was like hating the sky for breaking into a thunderstorm. He simply didn’t care; my hate slid right off him, and from the very moment he decided I was of use to him, he was a perfect gentleman.
Led by Miro on the leash, surrounded by an honor guard of wargs, Hakkon led us out into the plains of Foria, leaving the fire and the horse’s mostly-eaten corpse behind.
I stumbled in the dark, my leather bag once more slung over my shoulders, my books tucked away carefully, but I couldn’t see a blessed thing on this cloudy night. Miro was charging well ahead with the lantern, once more holding his head up proudly as he spoke to Hakkon, telling him of my dead family and the estates he’d killed them for.
And why shouldn’t he? He’d narrowly avoided death, and brought Hakkon a true prize: the means to lure Bane over the border, right into a seething tempest of rage and vengeance, a whirlwind of twisted creatures ready to eat him alive.
So he was walking faster, trying to keep up with Hakkon as though he were an equal, a valued lieutenant, and I was left to stumble after him in the dark, tripping on stones and branches, once over an old barricade left over from the war. The tether occasionally pulled at my ankle, nearly upending me, and I’d have to make a dash to catch up with Miro’s steady march.
Until I stumbled over something bigger, plunging forward and just catching myself on my hands. I squinted behind me, seeing that I’d walked right into a half-burned log buried in the grass.
And there were more ahead of us, a whole pile of them; the foundations of an old cabin emerged from the grass, most of it burned black, but no creeping vines or plants had made a home of the ruins. It was simply an untouched pile in the midst of the flatlands.
Hakkon made a low noise, almost a snarl, and one of the wargs crept over the cabin’s remaining wall on all fours and began digging around on its floor, shoveling away at debris with spade-like claws.
Then he motioned to Miro. “Give that to me.”
Miro stared at him for a moment, face taut with strain, and Hakkon curled his lip. “The leash, boy. Give me the leash.”
Miro glanced at me as I picked myself up, not bothering to dust dirt from my palms—no doubt I’d be dragged along again—and licked his lips, clearly debating the merits of telling Hakkon no.
I saw the exact moment he realized it was futile; he no longer controlled the situation. He no longer controlled anything but the chance to save his own sorry skin.
Hakkon took the proffered leash, smiling at Miro in an unpleasant way. “You’ll go first, boy. Into the tu
The warg had not been digging at random. The scent of rotting wood filled the air; it had scraped away the trash from the cabin floor and pulled up a trap door with the squeal of rusted hinges, revealing rough-hewn steps. Miro stared at the descent, frozen in place.
“Any day now,” Hakkon said, amused. “You don’t need the little night-light.”
That did it; a vivid flush suffused Miro’s cheeks, and he snapped, “I’m not afraid,” clearly revealing his fear.
Strangely enough, I wasn’t afraid at all. Eight wargs surrounded us, unseen and unheard, but I knew they were prowling the cabin, boxing us in. Nothing down those stairs could possibly be worse than knowing I was watched and hunted at this very moment.
I watched impassively as Miro lowered the lantern to the floor and descended the steps cut into the earth, disappearing into the darkness. Several wargs spilled after him, jeering in high voices to push him along. Two of them carried the saddlebags in clawed hands: the jewels Miro had stolen from the Tower of Spring, stolen again by wolves.
Hakkon extended a hand, helping me over the burned wall.
As I passed over, I did my best not to touch the wood, not leaving so much as a fingerprint in the burned ashes. I wanted to mark it so badly, to leave the tiniest imprint that told Bane I had been here, that I was hoping he’d come; but I was torn down the middle.
One half of me prayed he’d stay in the Rift, believing in Miro’s letter. The other half screamed for him to come, to save me when I needed him most.
But the first half was wi
Stay away, Bane.
Hakkon gri
I glared at him and he laughed. “Down the stairs, nice and easy. Remember, my sons and daughters are ahead of you and behind you.”
I descended the steps. They went a good fifteen feet into the earth, and opened on a small and empty cellar. The only thing in the cellar was a dug-out doorway, a long, narrow passage just visible beyond it. Far ahead of me, I heard the wargs, the scratch of claws on stone, Miro’s curses as he stumbled in the dark.
The only relief was that it was a single passage. No branching corridors where hungry things might lie in wait—if the Fae still lived anywhere, the wilds of Foria’s Below seemed like the place for it—and the air smelled of simple, honest dirt, not the primordial breath of the mountains.
As soon as I reached the bottom, Hakkon gestured to one of the wargs on the steps. “Collapse the tu
I stared at him in horror, and Hakkon tilted a smile towards me. “Go on now, woman. Unless you wish to be buried under the earth, your bones gnawed and forgotten.”
I started to walk, my leash dragging with every step, making a hissing sound… I looked down, and then up at Hakkon, towering in the passage behind me, his hands empty.
He held his hands up, showing me his palms. “What use is your leash? There’s nowhere to run. Have your freedom, little one.”
That was true, but nonetheless… I didn’t trust even a selfish gesture of kindness from an enemy.
First he would drop the leash, then he would offer me a gift, and with each step, if I accepted, he would be prying the door open further and further, making me susceptible to his generosity. Making me grateful for his kindness, until I could no longer think of him as an enemy or a captor.
I pointed at him, telling him, I know what you’re doing. I won’t trust you, not for a single heartbeat, just because you don’t leash me like a dog.
Hakkon’s grin was a slice of icy white in the shadows. He pulled a knife, and even as I backed up, meaning to run, he knelt and grabbed my leg, pushing my skirt up to my knee.
His hands were warm and rough, callused as only the hands of a soldier or laborer could be. Hakkon sliced through the knot of the tether and tossed it aside, and though I expected something worse, he simply released me, smoothing my skirt as it fell back into place.
I stared up at him, debating fighting to take the knife, but he’d gut me like a pig before I could lay a finger on him; there was nowhere to run in either direction. He was dead right about that.
Hakkon shook his head solemnly, resheathing the blade. “You may not speak aloud, redling, but I see those thoughts in your eyes. It’s a wise choice to back down; when the wolf ca
I sneered and signed, the wolf ca
“Not this time. I have pla
Miro has already ruined your plans. Bane doesn’t know where I am. He won’t come for me.
There was a deep, groaning rumble behind us, and I flinched as the sound of several tons of earth collapsing echoed through the tu
Now there was truly no way but forward. I kept one hand on the wall to guide myself forward blindly.
“That soft little boy can’t stand in the way of destiny. All I must do is send one of my wolves to the Rift, a lock of your hair in his mouth, your blood on his teeth… and Bane will come.”
A shiver ran down my spine. It was all too plausible, and the last thing I wanted.
To keep myself from spiraling into despair, I focused on a little detail that had disturbed me.
What do you mean by ‘beloved’? I asked suspiciously, signing broadly as I walked; Hakkon’s brown eyes gleamed yellow in the pitch-black darkness of the tu
“Of course, but every man needs his one great adversary, the foe who forces him to become better, faster, stronger. I have always respected your husband deeply. How could I not?” Hakkon chuckled, a warm, inviting sound. How could a warg sound so… human? “He forced me to acknowledge my weaknesses, to shore them up against the might of his storm. Wargyr was the one who forged me, but Bane… he refined me.”
Instead of answering, I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms as I walked. The pain cleared my head, kept me sharp.
I was exhausted from the past day, not only from the poison Miro had used, but from riding nonstop, from the terror of riding under the mountains. At times my eyes had drifted closed while on the horse, and only the fear of falling off and breaking my neck had kept me awake then.
Now I was ru
And by the Light… it was a walk.
One foot in front of the other. One step, one more, and yet another.
But I didn’t falter more than once. The first time I stumbled, leaning against the wall as my body tried to overtake my mind and drag me into a waking half-sleep, Hakkon touched my shoulder. The sort of caress that made me think there were other things on his mind, and I startled upright, suddenly wide awake again.
“I’ll carry you, redling, if you’d rather sleep.”
I cut a narrow look at him, unsure if I was looking in his direction at all, and kept walking, trying to maintain a distance between us and failing. He was always one step behind.
The second time I felt my feet dragging, like I was tugging bricks behind me, eyelids heavy, I decided to speak again.
Why are you still trying to invade us? I asked. The war is over. King Radomil has given up on Veladari land. Why keep trying when you know the fiends will drive you out?