Winter Heart, page 5
When the old man caught sight of her, he chortled in his throat and stood. “Now here’s a respectful young person."
Niamh grinned, greeting him with a wave. The young man sighed, as if whatever he was about to say had to have been repeated several times over the day. He grumbled something under his breath. The old man either chose not to listen or didn’t hear his comment, dismissing it with a grunt, and scurried back into the cottage to retrieve Niamh’s package that she'd come for. For a few moments, this allowed her a good chance to study the man she was left alone with.
Now that he was standing and moving on to his next task, Niamh saw that he carried himself with a regal bearing. A ramrod straight back, measured steps, and purposeful movements all told her he was not raised in the forest.
He had medium length hair for a man, it reached only a little above his shoulders, but the color was a beautiful blond. Like spun gold shimmering in the dappled light of the trees. On the right side of his face, a small section of his hair was braided and fell to his shoulder.
His jaw was clenched in frustration at the moment, but she could see it had an elegant line. This line was repeated in the shape of his nose, which was pointed and straight in a strong profile.
He was wearing a simple white shirt that looked like it had seen better days. It was torn in a few places, and stained with dirt and grass. His black breeches were in better shape, looking like they were woven of fine, thick material, tucked into tall, black boots. They were not in the Eiran style, however. They were too thin-looking for that.
Finally, he turned to face her. His silver gray eyes glancing into her blue ones for a moment. “I see he has you working hard.” She offered, smiling good naturedly. He grimaced.
After a moment of awkward silence, the only sound between them the rustle of leaves in the breeze, Niamh shifted. “I'm Niamh.” She offered, attempting to cut the tension.
He nodded. “Please excuse my manners.” Fane reached for her hand, which she offered after a moment’s hesitation. He was most definitely not raised in the forest. "I'm-" He hesitated, as if not knowing how to continue. "-Fane. I'm Fane." He said.
Niamh nodded, skimming over the awkwardness of that introduction. “I make monthly stops here for rare herbs for my work since he-” She gestured toward the cottage “is the only one within several hundred miles that produces them.“ Niamh cocked her head slightly, “I’ve never seen you before. How did you come to be in the service of the old man of the woods?”
Fane chuckled, there was a nervous edge to the sound. “Ah. Well, he helped me. And in return, he asked me to do some chores for him. I didn’t realize that they would be so numerous and laborious.” He hesitated, studying her face. She guessed he was gauging if he should tell her the whole story or not. Finally, after a moment, he relented. “I actually came here by accident. I lost my way in the woods, and if it were not for him, I would have died.”
“Where are you trying to go?” She asked
“North.” He answered simply. Niamh wasn’t sure if she should continue pressing him, considering how cryptic he seemed to be. Maybe he’s running from something?
Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask more, the old man toddled out of his hideaway.
He promptly handed Niamh her package, wrapped in brown paper. “I found a special surprise that I added to your order this time.” He winked, “Use it wisely.”
As he turned to Fane, the old man’s face took on a crooked, sly smile. “Did you finish repainting my roof? “ He asked.
“Yes, as well as stacking your wood, cleaning off the side of your house, sweeping and dusting all the interiors twice, and stacking the stones along your pathway. “ Fane replied with a hint of resentment.
“Well done.” The old man clapped his hands together once in finality. He looked at Niamh, then back at Fane. He appeared to be thoughtful for a moment. “Now if only there was something else I could think for you to do...”
As the apprehension in Fane’s expression grew more and more prominent, Niamh interrupted the silence. “ I...I could use an escort back through the forest.” She offered. Fane looked at her with as much surprise as she felt hearing that come out of her mouth. “If he wants to accompany me.” She added, with a cautious look from under her bangs at him.
He hesitated for only a moment, and she caught his eyes flickering between herself and the old man.
“Of course. It would be my honor.” Fane finally said, something like a mask covering the authenticity in his voice present only a moment before.
Satisfied, the old man shoved a pack of items toward Fane, as if this had been his plan all along. “Good! Excellent. Thank you for the help, Fane, but you are no longer needed. “
Niamh stifled her giggle as the old man gave Fane an enthusiastic clap on the back, making the younger man stumble.
The two of them departed the house. Barely looking behind him, Fane took a place next to her as she sat atop Alvyss, her horse. His blond head was level with Alvyss’s neck, and he had to look up at her as he'd offered his hand in assisting her mount. After a few moments of awkward silence between them, she cleared her throat.
"Would you mind telling me where we're going?" Fane asked, breaking the silence.
Finally, a conversation. “We’re heading to Ahealath, the capital city of Eira.”
“Ah, so that’s where we are.” His gray eyes darted around, taking in every pine tree, sheer cliff face, and white slope. A hare jumped across the path.
“Were you trying to go to the king’s wedding?” Niamh asked. Perhaps he’d just lost his way. His accent wasn’t quite Eiran, but it didn’t sound like any other accents Niamh had ever heard either.
“Wedding?” Fane still looked a bit distracted, taking in the scenery with an awed expression.
“Yes, you’re not from Eira, right?” Otherwise he would have known.
“I-” Fane turned wide eyes to hers again. Why is he so nervous? Niamh wondered inwardly.
“I- no, I’m not. I’m from...Close by.”
“Oh, you mean in the woodlands?” Then why would he have been lost in the woods?
“Yes, the woodlands here. Right between Aridia and Eira.” Fane nodded resolutely.
That must be why his accent is so strange. Niamh would have never said this out loud, especially not to the young man’s face, but she couldn’t place his accent at all. It was also strange that a man from the woods would be so properly mannered. And finely dressed. But, then again, Niamh hadn’t ever left Eira. So how could she know what traditions might have been different in other parts of the world?
“Well, I’m sorry you’ll be missing the wedding, but I’m sure you’ll get to taste some of the special treats they made for it.” Niamh forced brightness into her voice to drown out the suspicion that bubbled up there. “So it might be like you haven’t missed it at all. There will be plenty of Aridian people there, so maybe you’ll see someone you know.”
His strong grip on the horse’s bridle tightened along with his rigid spine. Niamh immediately felt as if she’d said something wrong.
“Yes. Perhaps.” Fane answered after a moment.
Another long period of silence stretched between them. It seemed to last for hours.
“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you.” Fane said. His voice seemed more relaxed than it had been before. “Who knows what else that old man would have had me do for him if you hadn’t come along.”
Niamh obliged him with a short laugh. This seemed to break the tension between them for the moment.
Fane seemed to be of good-humor, and followed each one of her questions with one of his own. Most of Fane’s answers were cautious, but polite and steady, as if he thought intentionally about what he was to say. He did appear to casually side-step any specific questions about where he came from or his past, giving her vague answers or redirecting her back to her own answers. Niamh had seen King Airem play the exact same political game, and so she knew when to let it go.
Once Niamh had determined she would not be getting much from him by way of his origin, she gave up and moved on to other topics.
FANE HAD NEVER SEEN a glacier, but he could imagine the sensation every time the young woman looked his way. The heart of glacial ice sat in her eyes; clear and blue and depthless.
The rest of her was rather unremarkable. Fane noted she wore no color on her cheeks, eyes, or lips like many of the women he’d encountered in his court. She was, Fane realized, refreshingly normal. Not that he'd interacted with many “normal” people, between the tittering, blatantly cheeky maids that followed him around his own home. Or the vain, gossiping women of his court, including the multiple of their number that emerged from Friedhelm’s quarters every morning.
From his readings into Eira’s culture, he remembered that both the men and women of the northern country wore their hair long. This was the case for the Eiran in front of him, as her rich auburn hair was tied back in one long braid that reached past her waist. She was shorter than he by a head, but she'd swung herself up onto the giant draft horse between them with the ease of someone that had done it their entire life. It was a wonder to him that someone of her stature could even reach the stirrup, much less mount the hulking creature.
They rode in silence for the better part of the rest of the ride, Niamh apparently having reached her conversation limit. The prince distracted himself by watching the wildlife, and allowed himself to fall into his own thoughts. He enjoyed the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair again after his time in the enclosed, stiflingly deep forest.
He wondered who would be searching for him by now. Friedhelm, like their father before him, had never been a warm or affectionate type, but he would surely care that the prince of the realm had never returned home. There would be search parties, or perhaps the king’s personal guard dispersed into the town, questioning residents and scouring the woods. And if what Niamh had said was true, and there were visiting Aridians in the capital, Fane could only hope that word of his disappearance hadn’t reached this far yet. If Niamh was so easily able to place where he might have been from, then how much more easily could someone of his own countrymen discover him? Fane grimaced at the thought.
As soon as the Eiran had appeared in the clearing at the cabin, Fane knew he would need to improve his accent if he was ever going to blend in in this new place. She sounded like Rune had, and Fane tried to draw on his recent memory to bring Rune’s accent to his own speech. The hard r’s at the end of words, and the lilt upward at the end of sentences, would be the hardest to master.
7
A HULKING WOODEN GATE appeared before them, towering to the ramparts many feet above as they rode toward it. The blue and white of Eira's banners flapped merrily in the breeze.
Now, this was familiar to Fane. Fane had rarely wandered from the beautiful white walls confining him to his home in the castle of Aridia. From what he saw from his window, however, Traehjem, Aridia's capital city, was bigger, more sprawling and expansive, compared to the little mountain kingdom's capital.
What Ahealarth lacked in size, it certainly made up for in height. The buildings, mostly constructed of wood and stone, stacked high. Each level was either a family home or reputable business - tailors, schools, taverns, dressmakers, bakeries, and the like. Each equally as charming and welcoming as the last.
Though Eira’s capital city streets were narrower, older, and a great deal more rickety, the hustle and bustle was a familiar sight. As the two of them entered the city square, vendors could be heard shouting from all directions.
Patrons scurried between each other, all carrying baskets and wrapped parcels tucked under thick, coated arms. Fane inhaled to take in the spices permeating the cold air: nutmeg, clove, freshly baked breads and pastries, warm smelling sugared squash and savory meats, cinnamon, apples, and all other manner of homely smells intermingled around him. It made his mouth water.
They continued toward the shining castle on the hill, passing through the marketplace, up past shops, fine houses, not so fine houses, and many, many people. Fane guessed that the city had to be built smaller to allow for the roads to be more easily cleared of the snow, and to keep people warm in their dwellings.
Niamh skirted around the edges, her horse parting the way for them as they made their way through town. Neither of them spoke for the duration of the ride, mostly because Fane was still taking in his surroundings, and Niamh looked to be concentrating on maneuvering her horse through the crowd without interference. For a moment, he’d forgotten that there were supposedly Aridian visitors in town. As soon as he remembered that fact, his admiration of the capital was far less pleasant. He began scanning the tops of heads for the trademark Aridian blond, but found none. This survey continued all the way up the slope of the wide cobblestone street to the front gate of the castle.
Niamh led her horse through the castle gates, walking into a snowy courtyard lined with soldiers. Fane was not unused to this sight, and he was set at ease being among the things familiar to him again. Battlements, castle gates, courtyards. These were the things of his childhood. He relaxed only slightly. The Aridian nobles may have been inside the castle too, but at least there were no more crowds for them to hide in. Fane was unsure if he would be recognized at all, as he rarely appeared outside of his own palace walls, but he couldn’t afford to take chances now.
Niamh handed off the horse to a stable hand, as a bright voice appeared in the courtyard. “Niamh!” A young woman about the same age as his companion shouted from a stone arch a ways away from the pair.
Niamh turned to face her, a flicker of a grimace in her eyes, and the girl sauntered up to them. She cast an appreciative eye toward Fane, looking him up and down like so many of the women of his court.
“Well, hello there.” She turned a raised eyebrow to Niamh, “Where did you pick him up?”
The young woman in question bristled a bit, but didn't answer. “What do you want, Maewyn?”
Maewyn sighed, seemingly thwarted in her attempts to get a rise out of Niamh. “Hael is looking for you. He said you would be back later and he needs his supplies. And also,” A mischievous smile crept over her face, smirking at Niamh knowingly. “He’s letting me take part in the trials for apprenticeship.”
“Oh?” Niamh asked, sounding completely uninterested.
“I’m supposed to be starting them tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have me as a new partner soon?” She poked at Niamh playfully. The young woman brushed her hand away.
“Many people take those tests, it’s not always to become an apprentice.” Niamh answered, barely containing the ire lacing her voice. Fane raised his eyebrows. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask what tests she might have been referring to, Niamh turned from Maewyn to face the saddle. Maewyn, completely unruffled, turned away, blowing a kiss to Fane as she sauntered off.
“Well, I guess we will be making a short stop to see my master.” Niamh said, sighing. She gathered up her saddlebags from her horse as he was led off to the stables, and motioned for Fane to follow.
They cut through the same open air arches that Maewyn had emerged from, and came upon a stunning garden made entirely of ice and frost. Bears and elk sculptures loomed over them as Niamh weaved through a labyrinth of sculptures and delicately trimmed evergreens. There were fountains that flowed with water, despite the cold, and frostflowers dotted the landscape. Fane was used to the overflowing greenery of Aridia’s famous gardens. These felt lifeless to his eyes, but he was sure that they were magnificent to a native of Eira.
Several minutes later, after a brief stop at a cozy looking cottage nestled in the corner of the ice gardens, they stood outside another house. This was further up the hillside, away from the castle, and looking down on everything in the valley below. It was a relatively easy trail up to it, and they reached it without difficulty.
The house was more exeptional than most of the cottages he'd seen so far, being built of fine wood and strong stone. Carvings of Eira’s folklore and rare flora decorated the areas around the doors and windows. Niamh knocked once before the door opened for her, seemingly on its own. She stepped inside with confidence, carrying a small box of the supplies she'd retrieved from the old man in the woods.
“Master Hael?” She called, her small voice barely reaching to the top of the foyer. A cleared throat from the room to their right led them into a warm office, filled to the brim with books of every size and shape.
A man that looked a little older than his brother, in casual dress sitting in a plush armchair in the middle, a steaming cup of liquid at his elbow on the side table. In his lap was an old looking book, its pages frayed from age.
At a distracted wave from the red-haired man, she set the box on his side table.
“I...may have found something else at the Wizard’s cottage.” Niamh began hesitatingly. The man looked up at him. His brown eyes were, to Fane, far older than he looked.
“Indeed. You did.” He grumbled.
Niamh gestured between the two men. “This is Fane. I met him at the cottage in the woods, and the Wizard sends with him his highest...recommendation.” Fane couldn’t help but notice the hidden smile in her voice at the last word. Niamh continued, “He was living there for some time when I allowed him to accompany me back here.” She smiled at Fane, attempting to break the tension in the air. “Fane, this is Master Hael, the Head Mage of Eira.”
Fane tensed. If the mages in Fane’s parents’ court terrified him for the power they had, he couldn’t fathom how much power lay behind those ancient-looking eyes. Fane bowed politely, calling on every princely instinct he had in the wake of the stirring in his gut. “It is an honor, sir.” He straightened. “I have heard stories of your great power even in my home country.” And truly, he had. The stories of the great Phoenix Mage of Eira spread worldwide. The mages of his parents’ court, even as distant as he was from their personal lives, spoke of him with awe and reverence.
Hael, unfazed by any of the praise that was heaped upon him, put the book down and uncrossed his legs. “Where do you come from?” He asked, not at all politely.
Niamh grinned, greeting him with a wave. The young man sighed, as if whatever he was about to say had to have been repeated several times over the day. He grumbled something under his breath. The old man either chose not to listen or didn’t hear his comment, dismissing it with a grunt, and scurried back into the cottage to retrieve Niamh’s package that she'd come for. For a few moments, this allowed her a good chance to study the man she was left alone with.
Now that he was standing and moving on to his next task, Niamh saw that he carried himself with a regal bearing. A ramrod straight back, measured steps, and purposeful movements all told her he was not raised in the forest.
He had medium length hair for a man, it reached only a little above his shoulders, but the color was a beautiful blond. Like spun gold shimmering in the dappled light of the trees. On the right side of his face, a small section of his hair was braided and fell to his shoulder.
His jaw was clenched in frustration at the moment, but she could see it had an elegant line. This line was repeated in the shape of his nose, which was pointed and straight in a strong profile.
He was wearing a simple white shirt that looked like it had seen better days. It was torn in a few places, and stained with dirt and grass. His black breeches were in better shape, looking like they were woven of fine, thick material, tucked into tall, black boots. They were not in the Eiran style, however. They were too thin-looking for that.
Finally, he turned to face her. His silver gray eyes glancing into her blue ones for a moment. “I see he has you working hard.” She offered, smiling good naturedly. He grimaced.
After a moment of awkward silence, the only sound between them the rustle of leaves in the breeze, Niamh shifted. “I'm Niamh.” She offered, attempting to cut the tension.
He nodded. “Please excuse my manners.” Fane reached for her hand, which she offered after a moment’s hesitation. He was most definitely not raised in the forest. "I'm-" He hesitated, as if not knowing how to continue. "-Fane. I'm Fane." He said.
Niamh nodded, skimming over the awkwardness of that introduction. “I make monthly stops here for rare herbs for my work since he-” She gestured toward the cottage “is the only one within several hundred miles that produces them.“ Niamh cocked her head slightly, “I’ve never seen you before. How did you come to be in the service of the old man of the woods?”
Fane chuckled, there was a nervous edge to the sound. “Ah. Well, he helped me. And in return, he asked me to do some chores for him. I didn’t realize that they would be so numerous and laborious.” He hesitated, studying her face. She guessed he was gauging if he should tell her the whole story or not. Finally, after a moment, he relented. “I actually came here by accident. I lost my way in the woods, and if it were not for him, I would have died.”
“Where are you trying to go?” She asked
“North.” He answered simply. Niamh wasn’t sure if she should continue pressing him, considering how cryptic he seemed to be. Maybe he’s running from something?
Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask more, the old man toddled out of his hideaway.
He promptly handed Niamh her package, wrapped in brown paper. “I found a special surprise that I added to your order this time.” He winked, “Use it wisely.”
As he turned to Fane, the old man’s face took on a crooked, sly smile. “Did you finish repainting my roof? “ He asked.
“Yes, as well as stacking your wood, cleaning off the side of your house, sweeping and dusting all the interiors twice, and stacking the stones along your pathway. “ Fane replied with a hint of resentment.
“Well done.” The old man clapped his hands together once in finality. He looked at Niamh, then back at Fane. He appeared to be thoughtful for a moment. “Now if only there was something else I could think for you to do...”
As the apprehension in Fane’s expression grew more and more prominent, Niamh interrupted the silence. “ I...I could use an escort back through the forest.” She offered. Fane looked at her with as much surprise as she felt hearing that come out of her mouth. “If he wants to accompany me.” She added, with a cautious look from under her bangs at him.
He hesitated for only a moment, and she caught his eyes flickering between herself and the old man.
“Of course. It would be my honor.” Fane finally said, something like a mask covering the authenticity in his voice present only a moment before.
Satisfied, the old man shoved a pack of items toward Fane, as if this had been his plan all along. “Good! Excellent. Thank you for the help, Fane, but you are no longer needed. “
Niamh stifled her giggle as the old man gave Fane an enthusiastic clap on the back, making the younger man stumble.
The two of them departed the house. Barely looking behind him, Fane took a place next to her as she sat atop Alvyss, her horse. His blond head was level with Alvyss’s neck, and he had to look up at her as he'd offered his hand in assisting her mount. After a few moments of awkward silence between them, she cleared her throat.
"Would you mind telling me where we're going?" Fane asked, breaking the silence.
Finally, a conversation. “We’re heading to Ahealath, the capital city of Eira.”
“Ah, so that’s where we are.” His gray eyes darted around, taking in every pine tree, sheer cliff face, and white slope. A hare jumped across the path.
“Were you trying to go to the king’s wedding?” Niamh asked. Perhaps he’d just lost his way. His accent wasn’t quite Eiran, but it didn’t sound like any other accents Niamh had ever heard either.
“Wedding?” Fane still looked a bit distracted, taking in the scenery with an awed expression.
“Yes, you’re not from Eira, right?” Otherwise he would have known.
“I-” Fane turned wide eyes to hers again. Why is he so nervous? Niamh wondered inwardly.
“I- no, I’m not. I’m from...Close by.”
“Oh, you mean in the woodlands?” Then why would he have been lost in the woods?
“Yes, the woodlands here. Right between Aridia and Eira.” Fane nodded resolutely.
That must be why his accent is so strange. Niamh would have never said this out loud, especially not to the young man’s face, but she couldn’t place his accent at all. It was also strange that a man from the woods would be so properly mannered. And finely dressed. But, then again, Niamh hadn’t ever left Eira. So how could she know what traditions might have been different in other parts of the world?
“Well, I’m sorry you’ll be missing the wedding, but I’m sure you’ll get to taste some of the special treats they made for it.” Niamh forced brightness into her voice to drown out the suspicion that bubbled up there. “So it might be like you haven’t missed it at all. There will be plenty of Aridian people there, so maybe you’ll see someone you know.”
His strong grip on the horse’s bridle tightened along with his rigid spine. Niamh immediately felt as if she’d said something wrong.
“Yes. Perhaps.” Fane answered after a moment.
Another long period of silence stretched between them. It seemed to last for hours.
“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you.” Fane said. His voice seemed more relaxed than it had been before. “Who knows what else that old man would have had me do for him if you hadn’t come along.”
Niamh obliged him with a short laugh. This seemed to break the tension between them for the moment.
Fane seemed to be of good-humor, and followed each one of her questions with one of his own. Most of Fane’s answers were cautious, but polite and steady, as if he thought intentionally about what he was to say. He did appear to casually side-step any specific questions about where he came from or his past, giving her vague answers or redirecting her back to her own answers. Niamh had seen King Airem play the exact same political game, and so she knew when to let it go.
Once Niamh had determined she would not be getting much from him by way of his origin, she gave up and moved on to other topics.
FANE HAD NEVER SEEN a glacier, but he could imagine the sensation every time the young woman looked his way. The heart of glacial ice sat in her eyes; clear and blue and depthless.
The rest of her was rather unremarkable. Fane noted she wore no color on her cheeks, eyes, or lips like many of the women he’d encountered in his court. She was, Fane realized, refreshingly normal. Not that he'd interacted with many “normal” people, between the tittering, blatantly cheeky maids that followed him around his own home. Or the vain, gossiping women of his court, including the multiple of their number that emerged from Friedhelm’s quarters every morning.
From his readings into Eira’s culture, he remembered that both the men and women of the northern country wore their hair long. This was the case for the Eiran in front of him, as her rich auburn hair was tied back in one long braid that reached past her waist. She was shorter than he by a head, but she'd swung herself up onto the giant draft horse between them with the ease of someone that had done it their entire life. It was a wonder to him that someone of her stature could even reach the stirrup, much less mount the hulking creature.
They rode in silence for the better part of the rest of the ride, Niamh apparently having reached her conversation limit. The prince distracted himself by watching the wildlife, and allowed himself to fall into his own thoughts. He enjoyed the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair again after his time in the enclosed, stiflingly deep forest.
He wondered who would be searching for him by now. Friedhelm, like their father before him, had never been a warm or affectionate type, but he would surely care that the prince of the realm had never returned home. There would be search parties, or perhaps the king’s personal guard dispersed into the town, questioning residents and scouring the woods. And if what Niamh had said was true, and there were visiting Aridians in the capital, Fane could only hope that word of his disappearance hadn’t reached this far yet. If Niamh was so easily able to place where he might have been from, then how much more easily could someone of his own countrymen discover him? Fane grimaced at the thought.
As soon as the Eiran had appeared in the clearing at the cabin, Fane knew he would need to improve his accent if he was ever going to blend in in this new place. She sounded like Rune had, and Fane tried to draw on his recent memory to bring Rune’s accent to his own speech. The hard r’s at the end of words, and the lilt upward at the end of sentences, would be the hardest to master.
7
A HULKING WOODEN GATE appeared before them, towering to the ramparts many feet above as they rode toward it. The blue and white of Eira's banners flapped merrily in the breeze.
Now, this was familiar to Fane. Fane had rarely wandered from the beautiful white walls confining him to his home in the castle of Aridia. From what he saw from his window, however, Traehjem, Aridia's capital city, was bigger, more sprawling and expansive, compared to the little mountain kingdom's capital.
What Ahealarth lacked in size, it certainly made up for in height. The buildings, mostly constructed of wood and stone, stacked high. Each level was either a family home or reputable business - tailors, schools, taverns, dressmakers, bakeries, and the like. Each equally as charming and welcoming as the last.
Though Eira’s capital city streets were narrower, older, and a great deal more rickety, the hustle and bustle was a familiar sight. As the two of them entered the city square, vendors could be heard shouting from all directions.
Patrons scurried between each other, all carrying baskets and wrapped parcels tucked under thick, coated arms. Fane inhaled to take in the spices permeating the cold air: nutmeg, clove, freshly baked breads and pastries, warm smelling sugared squash and savory meats, cinnamon, apples, and all other manner of homely smells intermingled around him. It made his mouth water.
They continued toward the shining castle on the hill, passing through the marketplace, up past shops, fine houses, not so fine houses, and many, many people. Fane guessed that the city had to be built smaller to allow for the roads to be more easily cleared of the snow, and to keep people warm in their dwellings.
Niamh skirted around the edges, her horse parting the way for them as they made their way through town. Neither of them spoke for the duration of the ride, mostly because Fane was still taking in his surroundings, and Niamh looked to be concentrating on maneuvering her horse through the crowd without interference. For a moment, he’d forgotten that there were supposedly Aridian visitors in town. As soon as he remembered that fact, his admiration of the capital was far less pleasant. He began scanning the tops of heads for the trademark Aridian blond, but found none. This survey continued all the way up the slope of the wide cobblestone street to the front gate of the castle.
Niamh led her horse through the castle gates, walking into a snowy courtyard lined with soldiers. Fane was not unused to this sight, and he was set at ease being among the things familiar to him again. Battlements, castle gates, courtyards. These were the things of his childhood. He relaxed only slightly. The Aridian nobles may have been inside the castle too, but at least there were no more crowds for them to hide in. Fane was unsure if he would be recognized at all, as he rarely appeared outside of his own palace walls, but he couldn’t afford to take chances now.
Niamh handed off the horse to a stable hand, as a bright voice appeared in the courtyard. “Niamh!” A young woman about the same age as his companion shouted from a stone arch a ways away from the pair.
Niamh turned to face her, a flicker of a grimace in her eyes, and the girl sauntered up to them. She cast an appreciative eye toward Fane, looking him up and down like so many of the women of his court.
“Well, hello there.” She turned a raised eyebrow to Niamh, “Where did you pick him up?”
The young woman in question bristled a bit, but didn't answer. “What do you want, Maewyn?”
Maewyn sighed, seemingly thwarted in her attempts to get a rise out of Niamh. “Hael is looking for you. He said you would be back later and he needs his supplies. And also,” A mischievous smile crept over her face, smirking at Niamh knowingly. “He’s letting me take part in the trials for apprenticeship.”
“Oh?” Niamh asked, sounding completely uninterested.
“I’m supposed to be starting them tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have me as a new partner soon?” She poked at Niamh playfully. The young woman brushed her hand away.
“Many people take those tests, it’s not always to become an apprentice.” Niamh answered, barely containing the ire lacing her voice. Fane raised his eyebrows. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask what tests she might have been referring to, Niamh turned from Maewyn to face the saddle. Maewyn, completely unruffled, turned away, blowing a kiss to Fane as she sauntered off.
“Well, I guess we will be making a short stop to see my master.” Niamh said, sighing. She gathered up her saddlebags from her horse as he was led off to the stables, and motioned for Fane to follow.
They cut through the same open air arches that Maewyn had emerged from, and came upon a stunning garden made entirely of ice and frost. Bears and elk sculptures loomed over them as Niamh weaved through a labyrinth of sculptures and delicately trimmed evergreens. There were fountains that flowed with water, despite the cold, and frostflowers dotted the landscape. Fane was used to the overflowing greenery of Aridia’s famous gardens. These felt lifeless to his eyes, but he was sure that they were magnificent to a native of Eira.
Several minutes later, after a brief stop at a cozy looking cottage nestled in the corner of the ice gardens, they stood outside another house. This was further up the hillside, away from the castle, and looking down on everything in the valley below. It was a relatively easy trail up to it, and they reached it without difficulty.
The house was more exeptional than most of the cottages he'd seen so far, being built of fine wood and strong stone. Carvings of Eira’s folklore and rare flora decorated the areas around the doors and windows. Niamh knocked once before the door opened for her, seemingly on its own. She stepped inside with confidence, carrying a small box of the supplies she'd retrieved from the old man in the woods.
“Master Hael?” She called, her small voice barely reaching to the top of the foyer. A cleared throat from the room to their right led them into a warm office, filled to the brim with books of every size and shape.
A man that looked a little older than his brother, in casual dress sitting in a plush armchair in the middle, a steaming cup of liquid at his elbow on the side table. In his lap was an old looking book, its pages frayed from age.
At a distracted wave from the red-haired man, she set the box on his side table.
“I...may have found something else at the Wizard’s cottage.” Niamh began hesitatingly. The man looked up at him. His brown eyes were, to Fane, far older than he looked.
“Indeed. You did.” He grumbled.
Niamh gestured between the two men. “This is Fane. I met him at the cottage in the woods, and the Wizard sends with him his highest...recommendation.” Fane couldn’t help but notice the hidden smile in her voice at the last word. Niamh continued, “He was living there for some time when I allowed him to accompany me back here.” She smiled at Fane, attempting to break the tension in the air. “Fane, this is Master Hael, the Head Mage of Eira.”
Fane tensed. If the mages in Fane’s parents’ court terrified him for the power they had, he couldn’t fathom how much power lay behind those ancient-looking eyes. Fane bowed politely, calling on every princely instinct he had in the wake of the stirring in his gut. “It is an honor, sir.” He straightened. “I have heard stories of your great power even in my home country.” And truly, he had. The stories of the great Phoenix Mage of Eira spread worldwide. The mages of his parents’ court, even as distant as he was from their personal lives, spoke of him with awe and reverence.
Hael, unfazed by any of the praise that was heaped upon him, put the book down and uncrossed his legs. “Where do you come from?” He asked, not at all politely.
