Page 19 of Heart of Shadows

Up ahead, “the rest of them” awaited. She could tell they were eager to be off from the way they shuffled their feet, their packs on their backs, looking down the path. Averting her eyes from Brand’s burning glare, Harper glanced at the two others. A stern-faced woman, who looked reassuringly human, and a cloaked and hooded stranger, who bent over a pack and did not look up as she arrived. Harper could tell little about him aside from a medium build and short stature.

“Harper, meet the rabble. Erika, Ragnar, this is Harper. Brand you’ve already met. We’ll do better introductions later, but I’m afraid we need to hurry now.”

Erika gave him a reproving glare. “We’ve been waiting for you all day, Aedon. It’s you being tardy keeping us now—and Brand here tells us you didn’t even get what we came for.” She shoved a cloak at him, and then her hostile glare swept across Harper. Harper suppressed the urge to recoil.

“Say no more!” With a gleaming smile, Aedon breezed past her, relieved her of the cloak, and marched off down the track. Brand, Erika, and Ragnar followed without a backwards glance. Harper, with a heaving sigh, stumbled after them at the rear.

They walked until they were high into the foothills and the ache in Harper’s legs became a relentless burn. Her head hung so low, she stumbled into Brand, so exhausted that she did not realise they had stopped before her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as he turned and stared at her. He turned away.

“We’ll make camp here,” Aedon said. “Erika, can you do your thing?”

She nodded and strode away.

“She’s going to make sure we can’t be tracked,” Aedon explained to Harper with a wink. “We don’t want to receive any unwanted guests now, do we?”

In quick order, Brand laid a fire that Aedon lit without a single word, while the cloaked stranger rolled out what paltry bedding they had. Harper realised the sky darkened, heralding nightfall, and the air had subtly grown colder. Her cloak was still wet. Now that they had stopped moving, her shivers returned, though she had dried off somewhat during the walk. Aedon ushered her closer to the fire, confiscating her sodden cloak and placing his own around her shoulders. She slumped onto a large rock, grateful to be off her feet, and looked around. This forest, at least, looked familiar. The pines could have belonged to her own forests. Perhaps I’m not as far away as I think. She clutched hopelessly at the thought.

“So, who’s the precious flower?” asked Erika as she returned, casting a critical eye over Harper. “She’s not from round here, is she?”

Harper tried not to stare. Standing this close, she noticed that under Erika’s rough-hewn fringe lurked a huge scar on her forehead, one that still looked angry and red, though she could not tell how it had been caused. Erika glared at her. Harper looked away quickly.

“Caledan. You arrived today, you said?” Aedon replied. He leaned closer to Harper, frowning.

Unease curled within her. “Yes.”

“That’s impossible,” Aedon murmured. “Logistically impossible to arrive here today from Caledan.” The others shared troubled glances that set Harper on edge.

“How do I get back?” she asked, desperation tightening her throat. “This is some kind of mistake.”

“Well, she can’t stay with us,” Brand cut her off.

“And where else is she going to go?” Aedon fired back. “She cannot return to Caledan, if that’s where she’s supposed to be. We’re thousands of miles away.”

“What?” Harper asked, stilling. That couldn’t be true.

“Nothing. All in good time,” Aedon said quickly. She could tell his smile was forced. “Get the soup cooking, Ragnar. I’m starving. It’s been a hard day’s work, you know! Whilst you lot lazed around, I was out grafting away for us all.”

Brand snorted with derision.

The hooded figure shed his cloak, and Harper stifled a gasp. The man was not at all what she had expected. Shorter than all of them, he was muscled, with a shock of wiry, dark hair and a beard to match, all of which had been neatly braided, bunched, and tied together with cords and beads of metals and glass. He was older in appearance than the rest of them, with deep-set wrinkles lining his face. Harper looked away as he caught her staring, just as she examined the tattooed skin of his face and hands. Is he a… dwarf? Harper wondered, not daring to ask.

She noticed how very differently they all dressed, as though they came from differing cultures. Aedon’s refined—though worn—attire clashed with Brand’s practical and hardwearing war gear. Erika’s mismatched clothes had an air of the nomadic about them—garments patched with fabrics of many textures and colours, fur on her breast, shoulders, and boots. Ragnar seemed a mixture of all three. Rich fabrics, tired though they were, under robust patterned leathers with hints of fur embellishments.

Ragnar unstrapped the small pot from his pack and set to skinning a small mammal, then peeled some strange looking root vegetables. Soon, a soup bubbled away on the fire, and Harper could not help but blush when her stomach rumbled. Whatever time of day her body thought it was, perhaps it no longer cared now food was on offer. The pot was too small to feed them all with Harper there, but Aedon insisted on sharing. Though she tried to refuse, he would hear none of it, wearing her down with a winning smile and friendly glint in his eyes. She mumbled her thanks and accepted the small serving, along with a hunk of hard bread to dunk into it.

He served himself last, then sat next to her, his crossed legs bumping hers as they all huddled around the fire. She tried not to think about it. He was easily one of the most handsome men she had ever seen—his easy charm so different to Alric’s rough kindness, his lithe muscle so contrasting to the tanner’s ox-like strength—and his kindness left her slightly flustered and tongue-tied in his presence.

They ate in silence, each ravenously tearing into their portions until the food disappeared in short order. The small serving was the most satisfying thing she had eaten in weeks, hearty and whole compared to the thin, watery stew she had last eaten at the inn. Her stomach felt full and warm, banishing some of the chill that had settled deep in her core that day.

Brand sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Excellent as always, Ragnar.”

Ragnar dipped his head in thanks, still eating, his attention on his food. The rest of them turned theirs to Harper, who squirmed under their scrutiny.

“So.” Brand said.

Aedon shot him a glare. “Be kind,” he muttered. He turned back to Harper. “So…” His voice was lighter. He tilted his head. “You’re not from Pelenor. Tell us how you journeyed here.”

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