Chapter 7: Late.

Of course she was alive.

With my luck, I should have known that.

With an undeniable rage burning inside of my chest, I knew that I could not rest. Washed and dried, I stood wrapped in furs inside the Map-Room. Thunder and lightning broke the night outside, whilst rain lashed against the window panes. The wind howled and behind my eyes, a headache thundered.

The grand table was a mess of reports and illustrations of ghastly creatures. I mess that I knew Mahon would not endure. The placeholders on the maps had been changed – placed in areas that I had not ventured before.

More curved along the lands near Naredan.

The Final Tablet.

"We received word of Haaling yesterday morning." Fyr watched me cautiously. "Was that you?"

"I stepped back into Cadelith in the forests around Haaling." I said. "And found the Legion's birthplace in smoking ruins."

"Reports spoke of a freak storm – bolts from the blue that scorched the fallen outpost." Matthaeus sipped his breakfast juice, staining the bow of his lip red.

"How could that have happened?"

"We expanded too boldly – to show that we were not weakened by your disappearance. We spun the story, saying that your absence was intentional. That we were infallible, but Vanya's reappearance sparked rumours that you had died. That the battle in Aoak had been your end."

"When?" I asked in a clipped voice. "When did you learn that she was alive?"

"Three weeks after you vanished in Aoak," Fyr was strangely nervous, her small hands smoothing over the wrinkles in our main map repeatedly. "...we heard rumours. Everything was in disarray here in the inner circle in the Legion with what had happened. We were hanging by threads, struggling to show brave faces. But – the rumours kept coming. Land was being poisoned, people were being slaughtered or kidnapped. Terrified people spoke of the Burned One who swept through the outer fringes of the land belonging to Naredan lords with a black rage. A merciless rage. It sounded too familiar."

Anger sparked, like embers burning in my fleshy throat. I curled my hands tight, my nails cutting into my skin. It had been a possibility. I had considered it, but hearing the news still felt like a terrible blow. It only deepened the disrespect she had inflicted on my family and on me. The Dratlan Elves deserved better than her survival.

Keenly, I remembered the heartbreak on Kendon's face. There had been anger, but heartbreak too. He loved her just as much as I had. We had loved each other – or so I thought. There was a strange strength to the rage felt when someone wronged those I loved. It wasn't as crippling as my own wounds, but it fuelled me.

Kohen cleared his throat, breaking the silence my anger had created. "We thought that if Vanya had lived, then there was a possibility that you had died in the Abyss. That your fight had continued and she had bested you."

A flicker in the back of my mind – keening, brutal grief that wasn't mine.

Shaking hands touched my head and I pressed my fingers into my temple, feeling a rush of blinding, white light. That grief – I knew what it felt like, but this wasn't mine.

Kohen stared at me.

The feeling faded and I swayed, hands braced against the table. "And where was she seen last? Has she definitely been sighted."

"I got close enough to feel her." Kohen watched me warily. "Close enough to feel that festering hate. I recognised it."

"From the time you jumped in front of a blow meant for me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched, flashing the curve of a sharp tooth. "As if you wouldn't do the same for me."

"I appreciated the gesture."

"But you wondered in your moments of peace whether I had succumbed even though you had worked so hard to save me?" Kohen's eyes shone. "You don't have to worry anymore. I was under the best care."

"I fed him soup." Gwen declared.

"And she forgave the brisket that I had owed her." Kohen said jovially.

"What infallible care and kindness." Fyr replied. "To forgive the small debt of a near-dead man."

"I could give you some tips, Fire-Lady?"

"I doubt I could learn much from you, Gwen."

The Troll sniffed. "As if you haven't learned many valuable things in my company?"

"Could you give some examples?"

"How can I?" Gwen arched a dark brow. "How can I know, Fire-Lady, what you chose to get into that walnut sized head and what you don't?"

"My head is not the size of a walnut!"

"I can crush your skull in one hand. I can crush a walnut in one hand. There is little difference between the two to me."

"I would argue with that, but I have seen you crush a man's skull," Fyr went grey. "I didn't expect it to..."

"Pop?"

"More like an egg-shell."

A hand touched my elbow softly and I looked up into Kohen's eyes. "I can feel your exhaustion."

"Kohen, I've just learned that Vanya is alive. I cannot sleep."

"And will she burn the world to ash tonight?" Matthaeus asked. "She did not do it yesterday. She will not do it tonight. Her master is plotting. He is quiet. For what he intends to do, we must prepare. If the world is to see the Seeker returned, they must see her in her full strength. And Vanya will learn of your return, she will see your strength and she will fear you."

"You put forward a good argument."

Matthaeus laughed. "I have lived for centuries, Seeker. I have picked up many tricks."

"You must teach me some of them."

"Some."

"By that, he means that you will be dead before you can learn them all." Kohen hooked an arm through mine, clearly intending to bring me back to my room.

"Morose." Fyr tutted. "Sleep well, Avi."

The doors closed behind Kohen and I. Coldness leached through the stone walls and I shivered, feeling the insistent throb behind my eyes. "They have taken my return well."

"Fyr is terrified that you will vanish again. The others are better at pretending that your return hasn't sealed some well hidden grief." Kohen looked away from me, examining the faded art along the ceilings. "All of us, we are good at pretending to be more whole than we are, but we are not. We are made of worry and grief, held together by honour and newly found friendships. We found each other after Dratlan. We all need each other. Your disappearance was tough, but to feel it multiplied through our friends, then through the hundreds whose hope began to dim...that – that was rough."

"I could promise that it won't happen again."

"But I would know you're lying." Kohen looked back to me, his expression oddly vacant.

"I know."

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People stared during breakfast.

Today's dawn was grey and dark, bringing only soft rain and cold.

I spooned honey into my porridge, trying to avoid the staring eyes. It was strange to have to pretend not to see them. They didn't look away when spotted. They just stared and stared. As if I was just a dead woman walking. I didn't think I understood what had happened to the Legion after I vanished.

"The Abyss has left a mark on you." Kohen said. "A shadow over your soul. As if you have broken another tablet, but not as burning. Not as bright."

"And not as sore." I grumbled. "I would trek through the Abyss again if it meant not having to break another tablet."

Kohen frowned at me. "You mean that."

"I was built for endurance and rough terrain. Not for magical tablets that feel like liquid fire is melting my bones." I set down my spoon, frowning at the watching faces. "I am going to find something to do."

"Oh, there is always plenty to do." Fyr scattered berries on her porridge delicately before casting a prim look in my direction. "But I do believe that your healer, Beatrice requested you to rest today?"

I went red. "I don't feel tired."

"You are worse than a child." Fyr's tone changed and Gwen hid a grin. The Troll loved it when anyone other than her was at the other end of Fyr's reprimanding quip. She meant well and I knew Fyr hid her worrying under commands, but ... Asha'da. "I will tell the kitchen to make you some broth and tea and I will send someone to light the fire in your room. You can take the day off Aviana."

"I can?"

Fyr arched a brow. "You seem to be resisting my good advice. I may extend your bed-rest to two days, en-case your brain was injured unknowingly."

"I blame you for this," I pointed at Gwen, whose smile fell swiftly as Fyr looked around to her. "You're contaminating Fyr's gentle nature. She is back-answering me."

"There is nothing gentle about Fire-Lady's nature," Gwen curled her lip. "She has just been good at hiding it."

"I wholly object to this." Fyr cast me a stern look. "And I know fully well that you are just doing this to avoid our conversation."

My quip died on my lip when the horns on the walls began to blow once more, signalling the return of soldiers. I shared a look with the others. "Are we expecting a force to return?"

"The force from Cathangra." Fyr rose. "Which means..."

Mahon.

Kohen beamed in my direction as giddy relief flooded my chest. I left my breakfast without a thought and as I walked for the doors, I heard the scrap of the others' stools. People began dribbling out and I could exclamations in the town where wives, husbands and children welcomed their loved ones back. I cut around, moving so I could stand on the steps leading up to Ewyn's Hall.

The gates of the inner bailey opened and soldiers rode in on the slick, rain-soaked stone. I pulled my hair back, misting rain wetting my cheeks.

It was a familiar and humbling sigh. The Legion soldiers in emerald and silver – a familiar colour on the banners that marked areas as protected by this force. Leading the charge, seated on the saddle of a sun-kissed mount, was Mahon Bryant. Behind him, Taelan rode in on Dru and the others kept a distance from the Elk and his impressive velvet horns. Stable-hands began to move forward to take the horses into their care.

I couldn't look away from Mahon even as the courtyard became a hive of activity. Workers and soldiers all moving, afraid to be accused of inefficiency by their scowling Captain. Even as people moved around him, I was pinned onto him.

Mahon.

The giddy feeling carried me forward and I slipped around moving bodies, aiming for him. Already, messengers were there to pass on messages and essential information. He surveyed them with a disapproving frown, before scanning over their heads.

I moved to the front of the crowd, his name on the tip of my tongue. Fyr embraced him and he returned it gingerly, a single arm wrapped around her shoulder. Kohen just rose onto his tip-toes, ears perked.

"The Keep is silent," He grumbled.

"You usually disapprove of un-necessary noise." Fyr leaned back, searching the crowd.

He looked down at her. "I thought – I thought there would be a reason for celebrating."

Something washed through me, hot and burning like Gwen's best ale. My memories had not done his voice justice – that commanding, deep voice. I drank in the sight of him, wondering what I could say to him. What I should say.

Rainwater dampened his dark hair and his winter's cloak was sogged down by the stormy weather.

People jostled around the courtyard, passing rumours and stories. Friends drew each other into embraces, whispering little secrets.

People began to turn, a whisper scattering through the crowd. It felt like they were waiting, watching. Happiness flickered and burned inside my chest. Mahon.

I forced myself to step forward. Mahon's gaze shifted over Fyr's head, flickering over me dismissively. As if just checking what threat may have wandered too close to him. Gwen, who just barrelled through the crowd, reached into her pocket.

Mahon refocused on me, his frown severe. A gloved hand settled on his sword's hilt as he looked over me, lips pursed and eyes dark. I just smiled when he met my gaze, still saying nothing. His gaze was burning, that blue so dark that for a moment, one could think that he was something other than human.

The courtyard was oddly silent now.

"Mahon."

The sound of his name was soft under the fall of rain. He did not take his eyes from me when he handed the reins to a small stable-hand, a hand curving over the snout of his golden mount. Behind him, as Taelan dismounted his battle-stag, he was embraced by Matthaeus.

Eyes shifted from us.

I smiled, my chest tight and relief burning so bright that the emotion flickered silver along my arms. "We made it to the dawn."

His lip curled. There was nothing soft in his expression as he loomed over me, his dark hair slick with the rain.

Again, I tried. "Do you have nothing to say to me?"

His voice was rough. "I am no good with words."

And he reached for me then, a broad hand curving around the back of my head. His fingers curled in my heavy hair and he tugged on it, tilting my face up. He kissed me softly, but it still burned -tasting of rainwater and longing. There was no attention paid to the stupefied onlookers and I found them melding into the background.

A hand pressed into my lower back and he kissed me harder, deeper with a heated, urgent need that robbed the breath from my lungs. I grabbed his arm, nails digging into those corded muscles. My chest seized and the rainwater was so cruel in its coldness – when his skin burned and I felt the strain of the last few weeks settling inside my chest, clashing with a relief so vicious that I thought it would tear its way out of my skin.

And if he had been holding back, I felt the moment he broke. An errant breath hooked from my chest and he was undone. He pulled me to him, hands harsh against my skin and he held me as I was made of broken pieces – that I would fall apart and vanish into the storm if he held me a little gentler. He was bruising. His fingers dug into my hair and our mouths slid together. Desire and relief continued to fight.

He curved over me, hands gliding up so that he could cup my cheeks. He drew back, his broad chest heaving. For a moment, he said nothing and just stared down at me, tracing the curve of my face.

A horse neighed.

Mahon's expression shifted and he seemed to notice and eerily silent crowd. They instantly found things to do as his cold gaze scoured the courtyard.

He hitched his chin, yielded a step and said to me curtly. "You are late, dear."

I blinked, a little scattered. The Captain surveyed me, his expression unshifting.

"Late?" I mulled over the word.

"Late." Mahon spoke plainly. "As in, not on time."

The watching crowd was deathly silent. My cheeks coloured and anger rushed in to replace my shock. Typical Mahon.

"I am aware of what it means."

"Clearly not," Mahon said and turned to the crowd. "I wonder, are we not in the middle of a war? Why do we have time to stand around and stare?"

That watching crowd vanished so quick, it was like a cloaking cast had been thrown over them. As if it were just another day, Mahon addressed the inner-circle. "I am scheduling a meeting in the Map-Room for fifteen minutes. Perhaps someone should stay with Seeker Birchwood – just in case she wanders off again."

Incensed, I stumbled over the caustic words on my tongue. Mahon side-stepped me, glancing at me for a moment only to arch a dark brow before marching up into the Keep.

The inner-circle just looked at me, each with varying expressions.

"Aviana," High-Elf Taelan took my hand, kissing my knuckles. "Your aura burns with silver."

"Thank you." I refocused on the High-Elf, giving him a weak smile. One that he saw through instantly.

His great war-stag inclined his head, one of the tips of his velvet antlers brushing against me. Dru. The High-Elf pursed his lips, his attention flickering to Ewyn's Hall. "We saw signs of your return days ago and we rushed back here. We slept little and your Captain spoke even less."

"He is a strange one."

"His head is rotted." Gwen grumbled, tossing a coin towards Fyr.

Quickly, I snatched it from the air and brandished it at her. "What could you possibly be betting on now?"

"I thought the Captain would ravish you in front of the crowd." Gwen said glumly. "But maybe my head is riddled with maggot holes."

"I know the Captain too well." Fyr began to climb the steps. "Such behaviour is not...in him. Come. Let's get out of the rain."

I watched as Matthaeus treaded an arm through Taelan's and the two males leaned against each other. The open affection made my insides twist.

"I know he misses me." I said softly. "I know it."

Kohen pressed his shoulder into mine. "After that show, how could you not?"

"He's mad."

"No." Kohen shook his head. "He's not mad. He's afraid. Afraid to open himself to someone who throws herself into danger, afraid of opening himself up because it has always led to pain, to ridicule and torment. Dark corridors and painful lashes."

"I would never..." I began furiously.

"For a man so strong and sure, he is more vulnerable than anyone will admit." Kohen nudged me towards the stairs. "He is comfortable with his nature, but he bleeds on the jagged edges of his old, unhealed pain."

"Am I a terrible person for being angry then?"

"No."

"How do I solve this then?" My throat closed over. "I missed him and I still miss him."

Kohen gave me a short, warm smile. "Go to him. Give him no options to hide. You're good at that."

I squinted at him. "You've become awfully direct, Kohen. What did I miss?"

The Zentin laughed, the sound gentle and soft. "Nothing. Life here in Adotlan does not move on without you. It cannot."

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Welcome back to Avi's world. 

Tell me your thoughts, theories and conspiracies. 

Has Mahon infuriated you? Is Vanya REALLY back?

((I'm really bogged down with placement at the minute - which sounds like an excuse, but I've been in college for 7 years now so maybe it's an old one, but that's why my updates are very slow.))

Until next time - Saoimarie.