Page 26 of Heart of Shadows

Ragnar nodded in approval. “Good. Come with me. Time to find some tea and berries.”

He led her up the hill, browsing beneath the trees, though there was little growing under the dense canopy, until they chanced upon a clearing. “Aha! This will do.”

The morning sunlight trickled down in beams laden with dust motes, giving the clearing an ethereal feel. Dew hung upon every leaf and blade of grass, and small mammals rattled the bushes as they went back and forth, not frightened by their presence.

Birds watched them with bright, glossy eyes from the branches of the trees, some carving through the air over their heads. Harper could not help but smile. There was something in the air here. So much more life and colour than there seemed to be in her small village in the rainy mountains.

Ragnar pointed to a plant that looked very similar to a raspberry bush, though the fruits were a bright, vibrant orange. “Pick those fruits—careful not to bruise them, please—and I’ll collect the leaves.” He gathered up a fold of his cloak, and Harper turned up her shirt to hold the fruit. She bent to pick the fruits one by one, surprised to find them large, juicy, and tender.

“Try one,” Ragnar said. She looked up to see him grinning at her as she examined one closely, a wrinkle of suspicion across her nose.

She glared at the fruit, then bit into the tiniest corner of it. Flavour exploded over her tongue, a sweet, nectar-like juice the likes of which she had never tasted in County Denholme’s sour and shrivelled produce. “Oh!” She gobbled the rest of the fruit in a hurry, emitting a groan of pleasure. “Mmm. That’s incredible.”

They continued picking the fruits and leaves. Harper watched how carefully he snicked off each leaf, avoiding the thorny vines, his fingers slow and deliberate. Her cloak grew heavier as it collected more and more of the morning dew, but the quickly rising sun was warm, easing the stiffness and chill of her limbs.

“Where are you from, Ragnar?” she plucked up the courage to ask, seeing as he had been kindest to her so far.

He didn’t glance up as he continued working. “Keldheim. It’s a city in the mountains of Valtivar, the dwarven kingdom far to the south of here.”

He is a dwarf! Excitement fluttered. She had heard of them in the tales from travelling bards. Now she had met one in the flesh. She tried to observe Ragnar without openly staring, taking in every detail of his wiry beard that was plaited and adorned with beads and ornaments, the likes of which she had not seen before. Harper’s mind already exploded with ideas born of the snatches of stories she recalled. “What’s a dwarven city like?”

Ragnar stopped to consider. “I suppose much like any other city, but ours are deceptively large—part underground and part overground. Keldheim was founded upon one of the oldest springs in the country. It wells up from deep under the earth, with the sweetest, most pure water you have ever tasted. The city is full of water. Fountains and aqueducts everywhere. Every house has running water, something you don’t see in many of the overground cities in Pelenor. It’s an architectural and engineering masterpiece. Keldheim delves deep beneath the earth, and its highest heights are at the summit of the mountain, Keldberg, which is given its name by the spring.”

Harper paused picking berries, drawn by the rapture on his face. He spoke of it with love and awe, as though he longed to be there. It sounded far more grand than she had envisioned. “Why did you leave?”

His face clouded over and he dropped back to his task, his motions more brusque.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“It sounds like a beautiful place. Do you miss it?” she asked tentatively.

“It is, and I do.” His shoulders hunched, closed to her as he turned away.

Harper went back to her task, kicking herself for offending her new teacher when he had been so instrumental in securing her a meal for the night and somewhere to belong.

“I am not welcome there any longer,” Ragnar eventually said in a low voice. “I do not belong amongst the people. We are too different, and that is not tolerated.”

Harper nodded past the lump in her throat. He sounded so desolate. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Something in his words resonated with her—she had not really felt like she belonged, either.

He grunted. “It’s been a long time since I set foot there. I’m as much at peace with it as I can be.”

Harper wondered how old he was, but she did not ask. I’ve caused enough offense today.

He surprised her when he spoke again. “How about you? You said your bracelet was precious to you—that it was from your childhood. Did your parents give it to you?”

She paused her picking to run her fingers over the worn leather thong and the cold metal bead. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t remember ever having a family. My youngest memories are with other orphans on the streets—I don’t have too many of those. But this is something I’ve had for as long as I can recall. I assume it came from my family, but I have no idea who they were. I always wondered.” She looked up to find him assessing her keenly, and unease filtered through her.

But Ragnar’s expression softened, and so too did the stiffness in her shoulders. She supposed she had asked personal questions of him—it was only fair of him to pry in return. “Hmm. It sounds like a hard life. I’m sorry. Come on now. That should be enough berries.”

She followed him back through the forest to the camp, where the smell of roasting boar made Harper’s mouth water. Fat crackled and spat as it dripped into the flames. At Ragnar’s instruction, Harper ground up most of the berries and smeared them onto the meat to make a sweet glaze, whilst he boiled some water in the pot, adding the leaves and remaining berries to it and setting it aside to steep.

Whilst they worked, she could not help but pause to watch. Brand and Erika danced around them, engaged in some sparring. Erika wielded her slim twin blades like lightning, whilst Brand’s gigantic two-handed sword cut the air—and never landed. Harper watched his muscles flex and bulge and the twist of Erika’s hard, wiry body with awe. She winced as Brand brought down his giant blade, which looked unstoppable and as if it would shatter every bone in Erika’s body—but he could not catch her. She was a blur as she slid away, like water parting before him. There one moment, gone the next. After a while, they tossed the blades aside and engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Despite the size difference, Erika held her own against the giant winged man, and from the way he grunted and growled, Brand did not seem to be going easy on her.

“All right, all right. Call it a draw, you two,” Aedon drawled as he strolled into camp. He ran a hand through his tousled hair as he dropped his sword and scabbard by the fire before tumbling into a heap next to Harper.

“Where have you been?” Brand turned to address him with a grumble, his chest heaving. Erika wiped her shining brow on her sleeve and sat to clean her weapons.

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