Page 10 of Ironling
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and suddenly the verdant air was too thick. She gasped and slid to her knees, the tears coming fast and hot as frustration and grief bubbled over.
How dare he?
How could he do this?
The tears coming easier than her breathing, Aislinn grabbedgreat fistfuls of the overgrown grass and began to rip. Soil splattered onto her skirts and into her loose hair, but she went back for another fistful.
Her feckless brother was out there somewhere, doing fates knew what!
What would he do?
What will I tell father?
Aislinn bit down on a sob until her cheek bled. Fates, she’d have to tell her father.
Every spear of grass within reach was plucked or shorn from its place until Aislinn was left panting and shaking.
She sat back on her haunches and wiped her damp cheek with the back of her dirty hand.
Get hold of yourself,she told herself sharply.This accomplishes nothing.
In increments, she was able to pull back all that wanted to spill and unspool. She liked to imagine it like a fisherman pulling back their nets. Everything back on the boat, where it should be.
As the moments passed, Aislinn was able to compose herself. When she stood up to brush the dirt from her kirtle, her knees barely wobbled.
She waited until the heat had left her face and hoped her eyes wouldn’t be too puffy and red. Brenna would know the signs, and the last thing she wanted was Brenna’s overbearing concern.
She looked around the garden instead, hollowed out from her tears. And as she looked, a new project laid itself out before her mind’s eye.
I should fix mother’s garden.
3
There was plenty to marvel at as Hakon followed behind his friend Orek into the great hall of Dundúran Castle. Whereas many of the homes and halls of Kaldebrak were carved into the mountain itself, the humans of the Darrowlands had made a mountain out of stone blocks, wrought iron, and carved wood.
Hakon took it in with wide eyes as he followed a step behind Orek. The hall was a towering space, peaked arches converging on heavy beams carved with animals and branches. Dozens of banners hung from the rafters, dominated by the standard of the Darrows, a crossed arrow and sword over a field of deep blue.
The warm stones of the hall almost glowed in the late-summer light, streaming inside the hall through rows of paned glass windows. It seemed to light their path, straight to a shallow dais of three short steps. A wide wooden chair, not quite a throne, had been placed at the center, and an older human man sat upon it, leaning forward to speak with another human standing before him.
The hall was hardly full, only five others inside, which offered Hakon a sliver of relief. Their steps echoed on the stone flooras they approached, and Orek slowed their pace the closer they came.
Glancing over his shoulder, Orek said, “Don’t be nervous.”
Impossible.
It’d been one thing to make the long journey north, questioning his right mind with every soggy step as the spring rains soaked him and his gear through. It’d been one thing to arrive in the Darrowlands and struggle through his limited Eirean to finally find a friendly harbor, with Orek and his human mate’s large family. He and many otherly folk had begun congregating on or near the Brádaigh estate, seeking the help of the halfling who’d started all this.
That long journey, those days of indecision and nights of regret, all somehow felt shorter than the walk from the massive doors to the dais at the other end of the hall.
Hakon had told his aunt Siggy, had toldhimselfthis was what he wanted—to work his craft and make a life for himself and a future mate. That had all become far more than an idea in the space of two days, and his head was still trying to catch up.
Sitting around the large communal fire of the makeshift village of otherly folk, talking with his fellows about where they’d come from and where they hoped to go, Hakon had divulged his craft as a blacksmith and his hopes of finding a village that needed his skills. Hearing this, Orek and his mate Sorcha had informed him that, not a village, but Dundúran Castle itself needed smiths.
They would bring him to Liege Darrow himself.
At first Hakon didn’t think he’d heard them correctly. It was bound to happen, with all the languages and noise of their patchwork settlement. He’d had Orek repeat himself just to be sure.
“Yes, up at the castle,”Orek confirmed, looking to his mate.
