It was midday and Kaelyn’s feet were cold–and she was sure if they weren’t cold they would hurt. It seemed like she’d been walking forever, but then, according to everything she remembered, she pretty much had been. Whatever sage had said the journey was what really mattered hadn’t walked halfway across two kingdoms in the snow.
Mac had claimed today was the last day, but a part of her didn’t believe him, couldn’t believe him. Her entire definition of herself was this journey and she wasn’t sure who she’d be when it came to an end.
But of course, she’d be herself again. That self she didn’t remember, the person Wyndham knew but didn’t mention.
The end lay so close. And yet, the path still twisted between snowy pines and sheer granite walls. Even the overcast day pressed down at her, making her feel small and insignificant. Who was she to demand her memory back?
Who was she not to?
The path wound around an outcropping and sloped down into a narrow dead-end valley. She stopped and sucked in a cold breath. Carved into the granite was an enormous structure, four stories high, with towering pillars. There were hints of massive windows but they were merely suggestions cut into the stone. Windows that big would let out too much heat and there wouldn’t be enough tapestries in the kingdom to keep it in.
“Oh my,” said Jillyn, stepping beside Kaelyn.
“The little known northern Oracle,” said Mac. “Impressive, isn’t it.”
Talar rubbed his wrists. “You can say that again.”
“Impressive, isn’t it,” said Gerid, mimicking Mac.
Aric groaned, picked up a handful of snow, and threw it at Gerid.
Gerid leapt out of the way. “What?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Kaelyn fought the smile pulling at her lips. “You two can play in the snow all you like, but I’m going to find a fire and pray it’s possible to unthaw my feet.”
“After you, my Lady,” said Talar.
“Actually it would be better if I were after you so you can cut a path in the snow for me.”
Gerid snorted. “Oh, now we’re all high and mighty, hanging around Princes.”
“Don’t forget the fourth son of a Baron,” she said.
Gerid chuckled. “Well, since you flatter. . . .” And he waded down the slope, starting a path for her.
The rest of the group followed, but she hesitated, staring at the structure.
Mac rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Last stop.”
She nodded. That it was.
“Come on.”
She followed the group to the only entrance, a small wooden door dwarfed by the immensity of the building. The entire outside, including the pillars, the hints of windows, and the door, were covered in symbols, swirling around and around like the marks on Talar’s wrists and body and Bledig’s face.
She ran a hand over the delicate work, letting the whorls and rough stone dig into her fingers and palms. She needed for this moment to feel real, visceral, something she could hang onto. And already the indistinct sky and snowy landscape made it seem like a dream.
“So what do we do?” asked Jillyn.
“Why don’t we try pulling that rope.” Mac pointed to a cord that disappeared through a hole in the wall beside the door.
Jillyn inched back. “Kaelyn should do it.”
All eyes turned to Kaelyn. She felt like she was back in the jousting circle with all those clansmen watching her. Her heart thudded.
Mac stepped close. “Didn’t think you’d make it, did you?”
She swallowed. She hadn’t really thought about it. Just like she hadn’t thought about a lot of things.
“This is your adventure, pull the rope.”
This was hardly an adventure. Maybe Mac and Talar and the others thought so, but she had never imagined her journey in that way.
Mac nudged her toward the rope.
Her palms grew clammy. This was ridiculous. All she had to do was pull the rope.
She ground her teeth. All she had to do was pull it. She grabbed it and yanked before she could lose her nerve. It gave, ever-so-slightly, but nothing happened. No sound and no movement.
“What now?” she asked.
Gerid shrugged. “We should probably wait.”
Kaelyn’s stomach roiled. She didn’t want to wait. She was done waiting. “But nothing happened.”
“I doubt that,” said Mac. “In my experience, when I’ve pulled a rope, something always happens.”
As if to punctuate his words rumbling, soft and low, trembled on the other side of the door.
Everyone stepped back. Mac, Bledig, Talar, and Aric rested hands on their sword hilts.
A hiss and a click followed and then silence.
She held her breath. Here it was. The entrance to the Oracle.
Then the door opened a crack, creating a mound of snow that blocked it.
“Do you mind digging us out?” called a reedy tenor through the crack.
Kaelyn pursed her lips and glanced at Mac. He seemed just as stunned. Everyone in the group did. Eyes wide, breaths held. She certainly hadn’t expected this.
Mac snorted, breaking the moment. The men dug the snow away from the door and a little, bald man shoved it the rest of the way open.
“Welcome, travelers. I assume you seek the Oracle.”
All eyes turned to Kaelyn. Well, here she was.
She inched forward. “Yes. I’m hoping the Oracle can help me.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and he glanced at the group around her. “I see you decided to bring friends.”
She turned to see what he saw. What an odd group they made. An old warrior, a young one, two clansmen, and three southerners. She supposed she could have left everyone but Mac in Carthway–although Bledig would have followed regardless. It would have been easier than dragging them into the northern wilderness with her. But they all seemed more excited about her getting her memory back than she did, and she hadn’t wanted to disappoint anyone. “It’s kind of been one of those journeys.”
“I can tell,” said the man. “All right, well come on then. You’re letting all the cold air in.”
They entered an enormous, empty hall, lit by chandeliers hanging high above their heads. Giant pillars held up a ceiling that disappeared in the darkness and the walls were covered with more swirling carvings.
The door closed with a hiss and a click, and the man slid a heavy bolt into place, the sound booming through the room. “The Oracle isn’t ready to receive you right away, so let’s get you warmed up.”
He skirted the perimeter of the hall to a narrow, curving stairwell, and they climbed past six levels to the top. The man led them to a plain wood door and ushered them into a sitting room.
Simple wood furniture with embroidered cushions created a small conversation area near an equally modest hearth, holding a fire. Save for a table and a heavy tapestry depicting a woman surrounded by a halo of light and backed by mountains, the rest of the room was bare.
“I’ll have dinner brought up.” The man’s gaze settled on Kaelyn. “Someone will come for you when it’s time.”
She mumbled a thank you and he left.
Mac eased into the chair closest to the hearth with a groan. “Add a little more wood to that fire, boy,” he said, pointing to Gerid.
Jillyn and Aric took the bench beside Mac, then squeezed over for Wyndham, while Talar took the last remaining chair.
Gerid added a log to the flames, making them snap and dance, and sat before it, hands outstretched. “And here I thought I was getting used to the cold.”
Mac snorted. “Not even the clansmen are used to the cold.”
“The clansmen are very proud of their country,” said Wyndham.
Talar shifted his chair closer to the hearth. “Doesn’t mean they like the heart of winter.”
Wyndham shrugged.
She supposed he was going to have to get used to the northern winters. Of course, there were a lot of things she’d supposed, and only half had really come true.
Cat wove his way to Gerid, rubbed his body along Gerid’s leg, and curled beside him.
The fire snapped again.
Kaelyn leaned against the wall beside the tapestry and stared at the ceiling. It was smooth, carved stone, stained with soot.
Here she was.
She didn’t know what to think and certainly didn’t know what to feel. It seemed she was frozen, inside as well as outside. There were thoughts, captured in her mind like the sun in the icicles hanging from the trees outside, but she was afraid to let it melt to examine them. Soon she would know who she was. Soon she would have answers as to how she felt about Wyndham–although she didn’t really need her memory back to tell her that. It was just more complicated because Talar made her feel things as well. But then, both men were promised to others and neither would likely look at someone as plain as her. She wouldn’t even make a good wife, always stirring up trouble, creating a scene and doing things she wasn’t supposed to.
She closed her eyes. Perhaps that’s what the bandit had meant when he’d said she shouldn’t have been in the warehouse. Maybe she’d stirred up trouble. Trouble certainly followed her.
Something creaked and she opened her eyes. The door stood open and a steady stream of men and women, wrapped in heavy clothes all various shades of gray, carried in food. Without a word they placed breads, dried fruits and meats, and a steaming cauldron of something on the table, and left.
Bledig sniffed at the cauldron. A slight smile pulled at his lips and he nodded. Gerid stood and the rest followed him to the table.
Kaelyn’s stomach rumbled but she remained where she was.
Mac eased to her side. “You should eat something.”
“I will, in a minute.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue with her.
She leaned her head back and stared at the edge of the tapestry. Mac was right. She should eat something. She just didn’t feel like it.
Her stomach churned. She didn’t want to be standing there waiting any more. She needed to do something, go somewhere, be somebody.
The tapestry fluttered and she inched closer. The heavy material covered a shuttered window–like every other tapestry she’d encountered in the north. A hint of wind cut through a narrow gap between the wooden and the wall. Beyond lay a snow covered garden.
She shoved away from the wall. The garden might be outside but it was still a destination. She crossed the room and opened the door.
Wyndham grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
She met his blue gaze and shrugged out of his grasp.
“Let her go,” said Mac.
Wyndham nodded, but his brow creased.
She offered a soft smile and slipped into the hall. When all was settled she’d talk to him. But now she just couldn’t. The hall was cooler and darker than the room. Shivering, she hugged herself but didn’t go back inside.
The tread of hardened-soles on the stone floor clicked behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. It was Bledig, her northern shadow.
Fine. He could follow her all he wanted. It didn’t mean she had to talk to him.
She wandered down the hall, determined to ignore him, and he made it easy by hanging back. Good. Besides, what would she say? Although maybe she feared more what he would say.
A door halfway down the hall opened into a narrow path and beyond lay the garden. She waded into the untouched snow blanketing it and sucked in a freezing breath. Sheer rock walls surrounded the half-dozen trees and if she ignored the shuttered windows, she could imagine she’d found a secret grove, untouched by man. Above, the thick gray clouds were breaking up, revealing early-evening blue. She spread her arms and spun, the snow clinging to her breeches and boots, making her movement jerky. She kicked at it, spinning faster, around and around. The sky whirled above her, the air burned the inside of her nose and down her throat.
Why, why, why?
Who, who, who?
She wanted answers.
And yet she feared what she would learn.
A scream bubbled within her, boiling deep in her gut and pouring out of her. She wanted the world to know but she had no idea what. There were no words, nothing but the scream, and she let it out. Her voice echoed through the garden, bouncing off the stone walls and flying up through the parting clouds. Suddenly exhausted, she flopped backward into the snow.
That had felt good.
Bledig shuffled up to her and stared down. “You are strange.”
She snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why should I tell you something you don’t know?”
She shrugged.
He crouched, wrapping his cloak under his knees. “What would be the point of saying anything when soon you’ll know everything?”
“Don’t tell me you’re a philosopher?”
Bledig raised an eyebrow. Save for the tattoo on his cheek, he looked a lot like a younger Mac at that moment. “No.”
He turned his gaze to the sky and she followed it. More blue could been seen.
“Why did you follow me?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. Maybe he’d surprise her and say something different.
“I’m sworn to.”
Nope. No surprise. “I won’t be upset if you forgo your oath.” A celebration would be in store if the clansman and all his people just forgot about her.
“Then what would I have? I’m already dead. You killed me in the trial, or you should have. I live at the Goddess’s mercy.”
“What does that mean?”
His brown gaze met hers. “If I didn’t have my oath, I wouldn’t have anything.”
She sighed. “I understand, but I don’t really understand. I mean, vows and traditions are important.” She pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. She didn’t know how she could explain to Bledig that she wasn’t who he thought she was without hurting his feelings. “I don’t understand how you can be dead without really being dead.”
“You died.” He stood, towering above her. “You died and were reborn.”
“Not really.”
“Is not your old life dead?”
She shivered. “When I get my memory back I can go home to my old life.”
“Is that what you want?”
She jerked up and hugged herself. That was the question. What did she really want? It seemed that no one else, not even her, had asked it. She didn’t even know if it would matter if she got her memory back. If that bandit had really been her brother then she didn’t want to remember her family. And while it might be nice to remember Wyndham, there seemed a great potential for heartache with him. But if she didn’t remember, she had no idea what she would do or where she would go.
A young woman waded into sight and cleared her throat. “The Oracle will see you now.”
I love the bit where the monk asks to be dug out.
Nice chapter, Kelsey. I can’t wait for next week!
Thanks Josh. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.