Chapter 25: Ainthoch
I woke with the feel of a hand trailing through my hair, pulling a strand up into the air only to let it fall softly back once again. I hissed as I woke, my mind still heavy with good sleep. My mouth was dry, and I clenched my eyes shut again, burrowing my nose further into warmth.
"You snore." The hand trailing through my hair paused.
I blinked at the rough, barely awake voice. Awareness filtered in as slow snippets and I raised my heavy head, blinking balefully at the Captain. I could only smell snow and soil – "Mahon!"
He propped himself up onto his elbows, his dark hair mussed. The Captain stared back, his lids heavy. "Aviana?"
"How did we end up like this?" I asked, my voice garbled.
The Captain surveyed me underneath his lashes, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "You fell asleep when you told your story. One moment, you're snoring and the next, I am entangled in the hold of a woman with enough skill to kill me bare-handed."
"You could have woken me up." I pointed out, sitting back on my heels.
"That would have been pointless. My aim was to get you to sleep and I did," Mahon explained, before adding. "I am a patient man."
I snorted. "You let me sprawl across you like a limpet. That is a dedication, and it has nothing to do with your patience."
Mahon smiled softly. Outside the tent, the camp was silent. No one had roused yet for the morning. I began to run my fingers through my hair, scrapping the mass of unbrushed hair away from my face.
"You're watching me," My cheeks coloured and I hoped that my voice wasn't as breathless as I felt.
His head tilted, his smile sharpening. "Does it bother you?"
Heat shot through me as my gaze jumped to his. I let my hands drop from my hair, annoyed that he had pulled a reaction from me so easily. He would not best me.
I leaned forward on my knees, pressing a hand down onto the rumpled bedroll. The Captain stilled as I moved closer, matching his smile. Softly, I traced a path of kisses from his jaw upwards to the lobe of his ear. I bit that softly, a snarl in my voice. "Should it?"
He swallowed. I drew back, just enough to see that his eyes were dark and heavy – latched onto me with his lips parted in a sigh. Running my fingers through that mussed hair, I slanted my lips across his.
His breath caught and he slid a hand up the length of my back, gathering fabric in his hands. He pulled me against him, a hum building in his throat.
When I drew back, I was smiling. "Thank you for the tea, Mahon. And for being the most obliging pillow."
He was still staring as I stumbled from the tent, biting down that ridiculous smile. Despite his confidence as a Captain, Mahon was hard to unravel. It had taken him weeks to warm to me, months to become comfortable with me. I couldn't throw myself through open doors, reckless and unbound. Not like I had in Aldwynn. Mahon was easy to startle, hard to reel in.
Dawn was touching the camp – filtering through the trees and casting disjointed light across the grass. I stopped by the dead fire, tipping my face up to the sunlight. Ahead, through the trees, I could hear soft footsteps of whoever had been keeping guard for the last few hours.
I was light on my feet. Something warm hummed behind my breastbone and a giggle bubbled in my throat. I was disjointed – elated.
I was in trouble.
Not the kind that could be solved using magic and steel. Not the kind of trouble that I was confident that I wanted to solve.
Asha'da. If Kendon was here, he would have been laughing at me.
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Nine days after we returned, the horns atop the great walls of Adotlan rang out – sounding the arrival of people on the road that swept up to the lake-Keep. I was tucked in a side-garden, struggling to translate Ekini into Cadel with the hounds flopped out onto the grass in front of me. I was avoiding the others, especially Fyr.
Ever since I had returned to Adotlan, she had hovered like a worried hen. She had obviously heard of Vanya through a letter and had clucked over me and tried to over-feed me and sent hot baths and treats to my room whenever she felt like I was holing myself up there.
When the horn sounded, I rocketed up to my feet and the hounds startled. When they saw no threat, Zeer whined at me indignantly.
"An important person is arriving, I think," I muttered as I listened to the ringing horns. I ran a hand over Zeer's head as we wound through the corridors and Arno bounded on ahead, weaving past servants and workers with grace despite his bulk.
I reached the bottom step on the staircase that swept up to Ewyn's Hall just as the gates to the inner courtyard opened. Grand, beautiful horses mounted by men dressed in black armour, swept into the courtyard. Beyond that, Adotlan was a hive of noise and excitement.
Lord Ainthoch.
He sat stop a sable-coated mount, with a heavy cloak sprawled out behind him. His beard was dark and neatly trimmed, his brow heavy with a frown. I risked a step closer and the hounds fell into step beside me.
The lord dismounted, tugging of his gloves and tucking them away as he handed his reins to one of his men. Running a tanned hand through crushed black curls, he surveyed Adotlan and Ewyn's Hall critically.
He was younger than I imagined – no older than forty, if even that. He was handsome too and not in the way I imagined a wealthy lord to be. His hands were calloused, his face tanned and leathered. His face lined. If not for the finery of his clothes, he could have passed as a working man.
Dark eyes snapped to me and I slowed my approach. 'Be careful with this one, I thought. 'Be very careful.'
Their horses began to startle as the hounds came closer and with a sharp whistle, I sent the hounds back. Lord Ainthoch's gaze did not waver from me – dark and intense eyes. A heavy brow. A stern mouth.
I had a feeling that Ainthoch would not be like the little lords that I had dealt with before. I swallowed my nerves as I held out my hand. "It is an honour to welcome you here, Lord Ainthoch."
So used to the hesitation of lords to touch the hand of a Half-blood, I could barely contain my surprise when he grasped my hand without a pause, smiling politely. "It is an honour to be here, Seeker Birchwood. I apologise for the delay in our arrival. The Empire is not safe, even for a man with a guard around him."
"I would think, especially for a man with a guard around him." I replied. Stable hands began to creep forward, intimidated by the finely dressed soldiers and the man who commanded the courtyard's attention so easily.
"True," Lord Ainthoch mused. His gaze swept upwards to the towering turrets, where snow-hawks circled, shrieking in the frigid air. "The word of the Legion is everywhere these days. You are the woman on everyone's lips - a source of intrigue and conversation for many."
We climbed the steps up to the Hall. "I did not imagine that the Legion would have been the source of conversation in the social circles in Naredan."
"They are fickle and easy intrigued." Lord Ainthoch replied. "War, suffering and terrible deaths are just stories to them. Things to discuss and gasp over when they have their afternoon tea or when they go to dance halls. They would not appreciate this place – Adotlan was once the home of the Zentin people, was it not?"
"It was." I replied, perturbed. I wanted to ask what a lord knew of suffering and death, but I knew better than to assume anything at this rate.
The Hall was quiet as we entered. I spotted Mahon and Fyr quickly and by the expression on Fyr's face, it looked as if she was giving him one last plea to behave. We needed Lord Ainthoch to support us – he had the ear of the Emperor. His influence would be invaluable.
Mahon raised his head. First, he spotted me and his expression warmed, his body turning. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Then, he saw Lord Ainthoch. The change was immediate in both men. Instant frowns. Beside me, Ainthoch loosed a low hiss.
Fyr scurried alongside Mahon, her face pale and worried.
"Captain Mahon Bryant," Lord Ainthoch drawled softly. "What a pleasure."
Both men faced each other. Mahon replied, his voice cold, "I would say the same, but I would hate to lie to you."
Fyr sighed. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Adotlan, Lord Ainthoch."
"Magister Fyr Lockley," The annoyance melted from Ainthoch's face. "Word of your prestige has reached the Magin circles in Naredan. The female Magister who bested the students of the Naredan academy with ease back in the scorching summer."
Fyr's cheeks darkened and I shot her a surprised look. She was blushing. "A long time ago now. Would you and your soldiers like to be shown to your quarters first. I am sure you would like to rest and have some food."
"No," Ainthoch shook his head. "I find myself sharpest first thing after a long journey. If I rest, my mind will wander."
"Undoubtably, an often occurrence for you." Mahon hummed.
Ainthoch's eyes flashed. "I will ask for only a mug of something strong, but if you are not prepared Captain Bryant, I can certainly sit around and waste time, waiting for you to organize yourself."
A vein jumped on Mahon's jaw, but Fyr was quick to insist that we go to the Map-Room then and we walked, keeping the men separate. Only one of Ainthoch's men accompanied us to the Map-Room. A tall, dark skinned man dressed wholly in black leathers and who carried a curved blade boldly on his hip. Norab – Ainthoch's right-hand man. The rest of the soldiers were guided to Ainthoch's quarters to check the security of his room.
Kohen was waiting for us there, sitting on the windowsill with a robin resting on the crook of his fore finger. He finished whispering to the tiny bird conspiratorially. He sent the robin away with a whisper and the red-chested bird took off with a peel of chirping, flittering out through the open windows.
"Regan Ainthoch," Kohen hummed, standing spritely. "Thunder clouds on the horizon. Sharp edges and cunning. Rough, land-worked hands. A love of the open road and horse backed. The easy honesty of the wild."
Lord Ainthoch loosed a low laugh. "Zentin Kohen. You have allied yourself with the Legion – a dangerous occupation for the last living Zentin, is it not?"
"That sounds like an insult," Kohen's tail flickered behind him. "But you are genuinely curious."
A servant brought in a tray of tea and hot whiskies. Lord Ainthoch surveyed the selection and Mahon had taken to glaring at him darkly – as if his annoyance alone would melt the lord. I had been on the receiving end of that look a long time ago. Back when executing me was still an option.
"I was surprised to hear that a Captain was promoted to the rank of Commander," Lord Ainthoch sampled the whiskey, his dark eyes flicking up to Mahon dismissively. "Though, he will not have large boots to fill, considering his predecessor."
Fyr met my eye, dismayed. This was going very badly already.
Mahon's lip curled. "You know nothing about Commander Whitely. He was a good man."
"Those who stand closest to poison can become disillusioned to its grave effects," Lord Ainthoch said softly. "Good, just men can be warped."
"It seems obsolete to insult him when he is dead," Mahon gripped the edge of the table, his expression severe. "Not only can he not defend himself, but it is improper and a terrible show of manners from a lord."
"I do not believe that simply because a man is dead, that I must change my opinion of him."
"I think that this conversation is unwarranted," Annoyance thickened my throat. "And I will not be asking you change your opinion of Whitley, Lord Ainthoch. I am simply asking you not to say incendiary things in the Keep that you are a guest in."
Lord Ainthoch appraised me for a long moment. I stared back, chin high. If this had been any other setting – if I had been any other Half-Blood, then I could have been struck for using such a tone or for daring to look at him so boldly.
Ainthoch smiled, dipping his head. "I apologise Seeker Birchwood. I have been a terrible guest and I haven't even been here an hour."
"Thank you for the apology, Lord Ainthoch." Bold. Bold. "It is the concern of the Legion and of the people we protect that we have not received any response from Naredan or the Emperor. We have written, asking for aid and instruction but there has been nothing but silence."
"My people in Naredan have reported nothing strange," Lord Ainthoch admitted. "The city moves on as if nothing is happening beyond its walls. Well- their food supplies, their parties and their lives have not been altered in any way and until that happens, they likely, will not care what happens."
"Farms are being razed and water-ways poisoned." Fyr pointed out. "Surely that would concern them."
"It will take time for that to affect Naredan and by the time it does, starvation will have decimated smaller towns and poorer regions first." Ainthoch admitted.
"My people have heard only whispers," Kohen spoke in a wistful voice, his gaze drawn by something outside the window. "I will write to them again and press them to work harder."
"I would not waste your time." Lord Ainthoch advised. "My best have tried scouting the dark corners of Naredan for information and everything is silent."
"Your men are not my men, Lord Ainthoch," Kohen looked at him, his voice soft. "And silence is strange for a city of conspirators and social-climbers. Is it not?"
Lord Ainthoch frowned, and a glimmer of a smile crossed Kohen's face. Facing Ainthoch, he said, "You think that a Zentin who has not grown up in high-society will not be able to manoeuvre its trickery. Perhaps once, that was true – but now, I am the only Zentin left and I must be everything. I know things and I remember them, and I have taught my people to do the same."
"I heard that a Zentin could read a person's emotions," Lord Ainthoch mused. "Can you tell me what I am feeling right now?"
"It was written that Zentin children are born silent – struck with the emotions of those around them when they are brought into the world. Pain. Relief. Worry. All burdening a new-born. Feeling present emotions are easy – but deeper emotions, with their knots and twists can be much harder." Kohen tilted his head, his tail curling tight around his leg. "Anger can be present, but what is it really underneath? Humiliation? Shame? Fear? Right now- you feel both curiosity and contempt. Pain from a wound that was given to you many years ago. You think Captain Bryant understands very little about how the Empire works, but he thinks the exact same thing about you."
"Is that all you see?" Lord Ainthoch asked.
Fyr bit down on her lip and I watched with a deepening frown as Kohen's eyes flashed gold. "Do you want me to see more?"
"I don't think you want this," Fyr warned the lord.
"Will it kill me?" Lord Ainthoch asked lightly. Behind him, Nornab rested a hand on the cloth-wrapped hilt of his curved dagger.
"No." Kohen shook his head. "It will upset you."
"It will?" Lord Ainthoch laughed. "I like your confidence, Zentin. I wish for you to 'see more', as you put it."
"Give me a memory. Only something you would know. Just think of it." Kohen advised. "If I see everything, we could be here for a while recounting your life."
Lord Ainthoch's smile flickered. "I am thinking of something right now."
Kohen faced the lord fully, ears raised, and his gold-touched eyes focused intently on him. The palms of my hand began to itch as the air grew heavy. Perturbed, I watched on as gold swallowed the brown in Kohen's eyes completely and his expression morphed as energy cloyed the air. Silver spluttered along my veins and the new mark on my breastbone began to burn.
When he began to speak, the air was static, and his voice was not the voice I recognised – it was deep and rough but achingly soft at the same time. Like a well-placed dagger slipped between the ribs.
"Red. Red and burning gold. How can something so warm and bright roar so loudly?" Kohen's brow grew taunt. "You are running. Running. Through the trees. The fire is roaring and thundering behind you but as its brilliance burns brighter, the smoke around you is making everything impossibly dark. The river is not far, and you are fast, but your brother is not. He is young and frightened, and you cannot carry him because you broke your arm in a riding accident only that morning. Magins healed it, but it is still weak, and you tried but Ren was too heavy."
Lord Ainthoch had frozen. Beside him, Norab inched forward in concern. "My lord?" He whispered.
"No, I am fine, friend." Lord Ainthoch shook his head, "Continue Zentin, please."
Kohen's eyes were just burning rings of golden. The kindness in his face had melted away – he looked feral. "Somewhere in the fire and the smoke, something knocks Ren's hand from your grip. You can still remember him screaming your name and feel the ghost-touch of his hand clenched in yours, but he just vanished in that smoke and you were dragged on by a passing servant through the trees. You would have gone back for him. You would have risked a forest fire's rage for that boy, but your father's men took hold of you. From a safe camp, you watched the smoke rise in the air and took your mother's scathing words. 'How could you leave him behind.'"
"I tried to go back for him." Ainthoch said tightly.
"Your mother blamed you." Pity creased Kohen's wild face. "Who blames a thirteen-year-old boy for the death of his brother? Someone who is overcome with guilt and grief – and just like your mother, you push your grief and guilt onto Commander Whitely, blaming the Paladins for not finding your brother even though you saw the corpses piled and the charred remains of dozens of young children."
"Ren Ainthoch deserved better." Ainthoch's face was haggard and, in that moment, he looked incredibly tired. "He deserves to be more than just a portrait in our halls or a tragic story to be whispered to newcomers who have not heard it before."
"I see him," Kohen said, reaching up to tap his temple. "I see him here."
"I don't want to hear anymore," Lord Ainthoch took a breath and with that, the pain was wiped from his expression. "You have done as I asked, Kohen. Thank you."
Nornab spoke then, his voice low and smooth. "We have not come without information. There have been whispers of the resurrection of the Gold-Hands and we have tracked them to an old mine in Fortitude."
Only Kohen and I turned as Mahon flinched. A subtle one – but to Mahon, that was a tremendous reaction. He met my quizzical gaze, shaking his head.
Nornab continued on, "The Paladins scoured the mine sixteen years ago and it was one of the final stands of the Gold-Hands. They knew the Paladins were coming for them and so they had begun massacring most of their slaves. I have read Whitely's report – he described finding creatures of bone and sagging skin who had not seen light in years. They had screamed and fought when the Paladins tried to free them, their minds so broken and warped by the Gold-Hand's mind twisting that freedom terrified them."
"Why would he return there?" I asked incredulously. "To a place so infamous?"
"Mikael plays mind-games." Kohen replied. "I remember his mind in the tunnels under Reline. People's suffering amuses him. Returning to Fortitude is another game for him."
"The Gold-Hands must be stopped," Mahon cleared his throat, calmer now. "I have said it before, and I will say it again. They are an infection – a disease that will spread until they are in every corner of the Empire."
"And that is perhaps one of the only things I will agree on with you, Captain Bryant," Lord Ainthoch smoothened a hand over the table in front of him absently. "Before the Gold-Hands were destroyed, there were Gold-Hands in every facet of high-society in Naredan. It was only because the Paladins were so ostracized from high-society from the days of Devon Trevil that they could navigate and scheme for the Gold-Hands demise without notifying the Gold-Hand spies."
"So - we go to Fortitude?" Fyr questioned.
"We must." Mahon said levelly. "We cannot leave the Gold-Hands alone to prosper and spread thier disease."
"Then we go." I said definitively.
The word of a Half-Blood sealed our decision. If Kendon was here, he would have been proud.
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Welcome back to Cadelith.
We welcome a new character to the book - whether he is reoccurring or a once off is unknown. Mahon would prefer the latter. Tell me what you thought - your theories and conspiracies about the chapter and what it might have revealed.
Do you think Kohen should have delved so deep, even with Ainthoch's permission?
Is Ainthoch someone to be wary of, or just another typical lord?
Comment and vote if you so wish! Enjoy Christmas everyone and if you don't celebrate Christmas, I wish you a very happy and safe December and if there is not another update in the new year - I wish you a happy new year.
Until next time - Saoimarie.