Chapter 15 | Whisper

They slept for a while as night fell.

Together they nestled in the hollow between the roots of a great, towering oak tree – a giant so large and ancient that Aire was convinced that it would have been planted during the ages of the Danann, in the age of gods and goddesses. Before the birth of magic mortals. Aire slept well, comforted by that thought.

They woke and walked before the great sun rose. Siseal guided them through the cold darkness, confident in a world where no one could see only himself. They broke through the line of trees, keeping the river to their side. Nyeth had argued that water would bring them somewhere. A town, a house where they would be something for them to use.

Aire didn't know what to think. She had escaped the fall of Cearna and found her way through Kaelara to the dismal city of Irial, but that had been luck and the pity of poor souls who hadn't been hardened by the Empire yet. Her father had trained her to fight, and she remembered most of his lessons, but her skill had not been truly honed. She had trained, built traps with her father's hands guiding her but she couldn't remember how to make one. There was no need for traps in Irial.

Not the kind that caught rabbits anyway.

The maze of trees ended as the dawn broke over the horizon, bleeding hues of orange and yellow over the distant, rolling fields. The river continued to snake out of the forest, looping around an outcrop of rock.

"We escaped the forest." Anluan took a deep breath.

Nyeth, who had been kneeling by the water's edge to scoop water into the hollow bowl of her joined palms. She drank greedily, before brushing her wet palms over her face. Soot and grime were crusted into her skin and Aire didn't dare think about what she looked like. The rest of them, in the light of dawn, and away from the dark of the forest, looked dirty and ragged.

"And now we're exposed." Aire touched her stomach for a moment, grimacing. "We need to get out of Kaelara. We need to look like we are not escapees."

"And how do we do that?" Siseal asked.

"We rob some clothes." Brice looked at them, hitching her chin. "We cannot draw attention to ourselves."

Nyeth looked back, brushing her wet hands on her briste. The cloth was cut open at the knees, torn from branches and darkened by the road. "Back in the tent, you spoke of going to Sibran. Did you not, Brice?"

"I think it would be best. The land is difficult to traverse, even for the Crimsons. I have lived there for long enough to know where to hide, where to hunt. We could be safe there."

Hunt. Hope fluttered inside Aire's chest. Brice would hunt. Perhaps she would teach her, if Aire could find something to teach her.

"Could?" Nyeth arched a dark brow.

"Safety is not a certainty. Not for us." Brice told her.

"Then, if we are going to steal clothes, we will need warm ones." Aire said, her mind whirring. "And we will need some weapons. I do not have the luxury of an aggressive Wield and I think we should not rely on magic either. We will meet vagabonds on the roads, and we should be able to defend ourselves without leaving traces of magic."

"I am not trained well with physical weapons." Brice admitted.

Ah. There it was. A trade.

"I will teach you what I can, but even the sight of a blade and a person willing to fight is enough to deter some thieves." Aire lay a hand on Brice's shoulder, squeezing.

"I need just a staff." Nyeth rose again, a sliver of a smile rising. "I defended myself many times without a Wield. I will do so again."

"Then, we have a plan." Aire said. "Or at least the bones of one. Let us take a drink and keep moving. The river may lead us to a village and from there, we can get what we need and find the directions to Sibran."

"Let's wash our faces then," Nyeth motioned to the river. "We look terrible. Aire, you have muck all over your hair. You could be a creature from the dirt."

Aire pressed her lips tight, quelling a sudden burst of panic. Hair. Her moon-damned hair. If she washed the muck from it, would the colouring be exposed for all to see. Then, the magic in her blood would be the least of her concerns.

"I will wash my face, but not my hair." Aire kept her voice level and firm. "I will not touch my hair."

Nyeth stared at her for a long moment, her gaze unwavering. Aire had used that same approach on people that she and Aevran had been sent to talk to. A silence and an unflinching gaze. Aire felt the itch rise, the desire to fill the encroaching quiet.

Nyeth broke first, shrugging her shoulders and turning away. Siseal and Brice knelt beside each other at the water's edge and began to try and scrub at their hands and cheeks. They would all need a hard bristled brush.

Anluan did not go to the water.

Slowly, he moved to the small dirt road and stared at the horizon. He was a small figure, the wind stirring his hair. Aire could feel the air shift as he manipulated his Wield. The others did not react, laughing lowly amongst each other as Siseal splashed at the women.

Beyond that, Aire could feel something. An oddness in the earth. A great trembling, rumbling that rippled through her blood. She moved silently, standing behind the boy.

"Something is coming?"

Anluan swayed, his eyes closed. Frustration bit at Aire as the feeling inside of her grew, but she could not pin-point it. It was as if the earth was disturbed and every beat against it rippled back to her. Beat. Beat.

"Anluan?" It was Siseal now who spoke, staring at his twin. "What do you hear?"

"There are footsteps all around us. A horse approaching..." He pointed forward. "That way."

"The horse could be anyone. Where are the footsteps coming from?" Aire asked.

Anluan turned, his head cocked to the side. He faced the forest. "I didn't hear them."

"Hear who?" Nyeth rose, all traces of laughter gone. Her face hardened and the wind seemed to charge, heat wrapping tight around Aire as the Knechru woman clenched and unclenched her hands. Aire could feel her Wield as it was called – sizzling heat that punched the air from her lungs.

Wide-eyed, Siseal stared into the dark trees. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"People are coming," Siseal took a step away from the trees. "They are not wearing red."

"Opportunists?" Nyeth asked, her tone savage. "Perhaps I will burn away their greedy eyes and teach them not to bother another Wielder again."

Brice stood up. Even exhausted as she was, Aire could feel her Wield rising. The feel of them, cloying together made the air thick. If her hearing was stronger, she could imagine the wind singing with the sound of it.

She wondered then, if that's how the Bloodbounds had hunted her people – by listening to how their magic sung on the breeze, how it weaved through blood and danced on the wind. It was so intertwined with the land around them, that it was easy to find. Perhaps. If one knew where to look.

Aire faced the dark trees, squaring her shoulders. Her stomach spasmed, pain lashing up the tender wound. 'Moon,' she pressed a hand to it gently, the curse falling out unbidden. Royden would make a snide remark. That she was certain of in this uncertain world. Aevran would stand at her shoulder...

No.

She did not need them to stand strong. She wanted them, but she would survive without it. She had no weapons, so she bent low to the ground and picked up a slick rock. Her fingers curled tight around, the edges rough and dull. A rock would have to be enough. If she could just get close enough to their head, she could crush their skulls.

Their approach became evident. The soft step on fallen twigs, the low murmur of voices. Aire couldn't believe that she hadn't known they were being followed. Seconds later, she realized that their noise was on purpose.

Wind rustled out from the forest, rustling the high canopies; those limbs creaked and seemed to stretch closer – wooden fingers looking to block the sky from those who wandered below.

"They are waiting," Anluan breathed.

Aire's lip curled and she called to them. "Stand out from the shadows. There is no need to hide when we are outnumbered. You know it. We know it."

Silence stretched for a long second.

A man stepped forward; his face shadowed by the forest. Paint marked his cheeks, streaking in his spiked hair. His chest was broad, covered in the heavy grey pelt of a wolf His weapon was sheathed at his side, but that gave Aire little comfort. Not when there were figures emerging from the gloom, armed to the teeth and baring the marks of a recent battle.

"We mean you no harm."

"I doubt that" Aire snorted. "You would be armed so, if you didn't."

Heat pulsed from Nyeth's skin, as soft and quick as a summer's breeze. A warning. The others watched them, reminding Aire of wolves waiting for their cue to strike. They all wore furs, bearing cleverly cut weapons that had to have been crafted by a Master Blacksmith.

"We have come far to see you five." The main man spoke. As he shifted, Aire caught the markings on his hilt. A blade of Lunar Steel. Strong metal, found only in Cearna and the edges of Vespith and Kaelara. Lunar forges had burned in great Cearnain towns, crafting the blessed blades.

These were no rogue wanderers, looking to rob them. No vagabond could afford to carry such steel.

"And why have you come far?" Aire questioned, her voice as quick and sharp as a whip.

"We heard whispers of living Wielders, hunted by the Empire." The man spoke again, his voice low and gruff. Age was woven with grey strands into his dark beard. "We wanted to ensure your freedom and safety."

"You have soot on your hands." Nyeth pointed out suddenly.

The man examined his fingers, dark with ash and blood. "That I do."

Saviours. Aire's gaze narrowed. "You were the ones who attacked the Crimsons' camp."

"Aye." The man inclined his chin. "An attack that went very wrong, very quickly. There were more amongst our numbers, but they were lost to fire or to the blade of a Bloodbound."

Aire fixed her grip on the rock and asked, "Who are you?"

"Laochra."

"A Cearnain name?"

This Laochra narrowed his eyes at her. "A common name given to Cearnain boys and girls pledged to a life of fighting. What do they call you, suspicious girl?"

"Suspicious as I may be, you can understand why we may be wary of strangers who emerge from the darkness." Aire could feel the other's Wields abating. "Why did you concern yourself with the lives of Wielders? No one attacks and Bloodbound to save our kind out of the goodness of their own hearts."

"I made a pledge." The man stepped forward. "Under the light of the old moon, to protect Cearna and what Wielders have spread out through the five lands. I have failed to protect Cearna, but I will protect the drops of magic that have escaped the Empire's rage and bloodlust."

Her blood went cold. Aether.

The ancient warriors of Cearna. Boys and girls chosen from Vespith and Cearna to spend their life training to be fearsome warriors, sworn to protect Cearna, the ancient homeplace of the Danann and magic. Traitors.

"Aether." Her voice was a venomous hiss. In that old-buried rage, she stepped towards him. The figures in the trees shifted, but Aire did not care. "Your promises mean nothing now. The Aether abandoned Cearna when she needed it."

Laochra's face shuttered. "The Aether would never."

She had been a girl then, but the memory was as clear as day. But how could she tell him that without giving too much away. "Where were you when Cearna fell?"

The older man's lips pinched; his shame was evident. "Our offer remains the same. Safety for all of you."

"Aire..." Siseal's voice was soft. "I can see it."

Her chest constricted. The hope in his voice was almost too much to bear. "Siseal..."

"Safety," He pressed, insistent now. "In the shadow of jagged stone teeth. Freezing water crashing across a beach. A forest of ancient trees, hiding beasts that prowl and wait for a foolish wanderer."

Laochra pressed forward. "The entire Empire will be hunting you now. There has not been a whisper of magic in a long time. Word will have reached the Emperor of your existence. You cannot go back to your old lives."

Nyeth's lip curled. "Do you not think we know that?"

The thudding against the earth – one that rippled through Aire's blood grew. Still, she stewed. Where could they go? Injured, hungry and weak. She did not have the survival skills to survive in the wild and if the others did not, who would teach them?

A woman stepped up to Laochra's side. "A rider is approaching."

They looked to the road. She was right. In the distance, a man sat atop a horse. Strapped across the horse's back, was the dead body of a doe.

"It is just a hunter." Aire murmured.

The woman spoke again. "He will speak of this strange gathering, Laochra. We should make sure he does not talk."

"We do not kill out of convenience Sloane." Laochra said sharply. "We kill only when necessary. He will say nothing because he is a hunter. Those who are not of nobility are forbidden to hunt. The Empire would skin him for such insolence."

Aire did not dare reach for the mark across her palm. Kill only when necessary

The woman simply nodded her head, but her sharp eyes watched the approaching rider. They all fell silent, the air charged with anticipation. Aire could feel it cloying in her throat, a bitter poison that slipped into her bloodstream. The weeks of tense fear, the grief of another life of hers lost to the Empire's hatred, her near-death – it was all burdening on her.

Aether.

The rider passed. He cast them a look – filthy from soot and dirt. The armed figures in the trees. She wondered if would be able to feel the air, the magic whispering between the breaths of wind. The doe on the horse's back gazed out unseeing. It had been a clean kill.

Aire looked to the man. To the sunken cheeks and the haggard, grim look in his eyes. Around his wrist, he wore a woven band that had been hand-dyed. It looked like child's work, the threads of wool beginning to unravel.

He just kept riding and the group watched until he vanished again. Aire hoped that he did not encounter a soldier, and wondered again, why he dared to take the road. Had the fire scared him out of the wood? Or something worse?

Aire was the first to speak. "Where do you plan on bringing us?"

"I cannot tell you that," Laochra said gently, glancing up to where the sun melded over the horizon, spilling light through the cracks of wandering clouds. "Not until you see it for yourself. Not until we can trust you. We do not have much time either – our stop was too long and the Bloodbounds of the empire will surely be hunting us now."

His mistrust was something she could understand, "And if we want to leave later?"

"We are not the Empire. You would be free to leave."

"And if we don't go with you now?"

"Then we would give you a weapon, some rations for the road and a horse. As much as we can spare. Our journey home is a long one."

"That is a good offer," Aire mulled it over. Too good. Junhyn had always warned them to watch out for offers with golden teeth. They glimmered and glinted, drawing in greedy hearts, only to have their throats torn out by those very teeth.

The woman, Sloane, beside Laochra gave a short sigh. She was young, perhaps the same age as Aire; her pale-red hair was shorn at the sides and her arm was freshly bandaged. Her cheeks and the bridge of her strong nose was splattered with freckles. "You have some nerve to question the people who saved you, girl."

"Girl?" Aire bristled.

"You would be dead now or hacked apart for your magic if we did not save you and yet, you have given us no thanks."

"Sloane, hold your tongue." Laochra warned. "We do not protect to earn thanks. We do it because it must be done."

"We lost good people in that attack." Sloane argued. "To save their lives."

"We made that choice." Laochra's voice rose. "They did not ask for us to do that for them. We do not help and expect praise and adoration for it. It is not our way."

Sloane scowled but backed down. "I apologise. I was too quick to speak."

Laochra turned to them, scanning their faces before sighing. "Forgive Sloane's impulsivity. She is young and she is angry. She lost everyone when Cearna fell."

Sloane scowled at that but did not comment. She just glowered ahead, focusing on the land beyond.

Aire remained silent, still bristling at the girl comment. And at the growing realisation that she had little choice but to go with them. The mere minutes that had passed where she was bracing herself for the fight had wiped her energy and she longed to sit again.

And – the others had not spoken.

The boys were silent, standing together and the women just looked between Laochra and Aire expectantly. Aire had a funny, awful feeling that if she did not go with them, then the others would not either. And ... as much as she hated the Aether, she would not deny the others a haven.

Last, there was a promise. One she had made to herself in the dank dark of Irial. Retribution. Revenge. Her energy fled and she swayed in the breeze like a stalk of a flower whose petals clung by a mere wisp.

"How will you help us in your haven?" Aire asked.

"We do not mean for you to grow soft. That is not how we survive in this world. We will train you, feed you and shelter you." Laochra explained.

"I cannot stay in your haven forever." She looked to the other Wielders. "I will stay long enough to recover and gather my strength. There are people – old friends, who betrayed me. I must return to them."

And find Royden's pinkie bone. She would find it once she returned to Irial. The other spirits would guide her to it. She missed her spirits keenly, feeling their absence in the quiet wind and the whisper-less night.

Laochra nodded. "You will not win against them like this."

"I know."

Aire eyed the twins. They were too young, too sweet for this world. A few months, perhaps a year in this haven would be good for them. Then, she would be able to leave for Irial knowing that they had the bones of skill to protect themselves.

A year for them to grow strong. A year for Nyeth and Brice to recover. A year for Aire to train. For their tracks to go cold, lost in the wild of the land.

A year for Junhyn to grow lazy and happy. For all of them to reap from benefit from the coin they had gotten for Aire's capture. All the better to see their hard work fall apart and burn around them as they witnessed her rage.

They would think of her as just an old bag of coin and she would return to put a blade between their ribs.

<> <> <> <> 

| Welcome back to Aire's world. 

They seem to have escaped the Bloodbounds. Aire is out of death's shadow - for now.  

Tell me your thoughts, theories and conspiracies. 

Do you trust the Aether? 

Will Aire ever get her retribution? 

Should she go to this haven?

Until next time - Saoimarie. |