Page 3 of In Darkness Forged

But there was no time to dwell on that which she could not change. “If you’ve no further need of me, I should be about my day,” she said to Brannic with a grateful nod. “I’m sure you’ve preparing to do, and I need to be getting over to Old Man Eben’s before I head home.”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right.” Brannic reached under the table and brought out a burlap bag that bulged rather more than Aislin had anticipated. “Your wages, then.”

He always paid her in food, as if he knew what she needed most. Most days, she was gone from home too long to cook, and neither her mother nor her grandmother could manage such tasks in her absence.

Brannic always gave her too much, but if she argued, he would only glare at her fiercely from under lowered gray eyebrows and remind her that he was her employer and could pay her whatever he wished. After the first few times, Aislin always just said thank you and went away quietly, reminding herself that it was not charity if she worked for it.

And yet somehow, it still felt a little like shame—this knowing that she might not have been able to provide for her family without his generosity.

Such thoughts, at least, were easier to put out of her mind on a day like today, as she made her way toward the hollow north of the village and allowed her imagination to dwell on the visitors that would soon arrive.

At least several times a year, noble families from far-flung areas of the kingdom would come to pay their respects to Lord Dreichel. They always passed through the village on their way—armor gleaming with polished perfection, beautifully matched carriage horses moving in step, and curtained carriage windows sparkling in the light of the setting sun. Or at least that’s how it always looked in Aislin’s mind. They would make their way to the enormous stone manor that stood proudly on the hill above Brightvale, where they would grace Lord Dreichel’s halls with their dress and speech and news of far-off Arandar.

Each time they arrived, Aislin longed for the opportunity to watch, to listen, and to remind herself that there was a world beyond her tiny village. A world that changed and grew and moved on without really altering the quiet lives of everyone she knew.

For today, however, it seemed likely that Aislin’s small part in that larger world was at an end, so as she approached Old Man Eben’s cottage, it was with a stern admonishment not to taunt herself with such things. She didn’t need any more reminders of the adventures that remained just out of reach. Her life was here, caring for her mother and grandmother and continuing to cling to the belief that her father would someday return.

The healer didn’t answer her tentative knock, but he’d left a packet of willow bark powder on the front stoop. After a quick glance through the tiny window, Aislin scooped it up and headed back the way she’d come, hoping all was well with her old friend. He was likely away on an errand, and it wasn’t as if he needed payment—the two of them had come to a mutually beneficial agreement years ago. Aislin foraged for herbs that were difficult for him to find, while he provided her mother and grandmother with whatever remedies they required free of charge.

With no justifiable reason to dawdle in order to catch a glimpse of the manor’s guests, Aislin elected to cut through the woods between Eben’s hollow and her home. Getting back this early would allow her to chop more wood before it was time to brew her grandmother’s tea, and hopefully permit her to cook a hot meal for once.

Her family’s cottage stood in a small clearing on the rocky hillside just outside the village proper. Backed by an ancient stand of firs and close to a burbling spring, it was far enough from Brightvale to provide both silence and solitude. Once, the isolation had been necessary for her mother’s work, but now Aislin frequently cursed the added distance when she was forced to make the trek several times per day.

If only she could move her mother and grandmother down to the village, their lives would be so much easier. They could have company during the day while she was working or foraging. And she would be able to check in on them more often. But their family had called that cottage home for generations, and Aislin could not bring herself to be the cause of one more loss.

As she forced her aching muscles up the steep path towards home, Aislin suddenly became aware of raised voices where there should have been only silence. Instead of her footsteps and the wind in the trees, the hillside echoed with an unwelcome cacophony of pleading, arguing, and splintering wood.

Breaking into a run, Aislin rounded the final turn and found the small clearing in front of her house filled with men—a half dozen or more, all large and grim-looking. Half of her family’s furniture already lay outside. Her grandmother still sat in her chair, eyes snapping angrily, though that chair now rested in the yard instead of in front of the fire. Aislin’s mother stood in the doorway, her gaze as intent as her expression was grim and resigned.

“We’re trying,” her mother said, her pale face bearing a small splotch of color high on each cheekbone. “Please give us a little time, and we will make a payment as soon as we can.”

“What is happening?” Aislin demanded, striding onto the scene and gazing at the gathered men with dumbfounded anger. “What could you possibly hope to gain by tormenting two helpless women in their own home? We have nothing worth stealing.”

“It’s you that’s stealing,” one of the men supplied in a ruthless tone. “Lord Dreichel has been patient enough, so if you can neither contribute nor pay rent, you’ll have to find elsewhere to live.”

Aislin felt a familiar stab of shame, accompanied this time by a swell of helpless fury. Lord Dreichel knew their situation perfectly well, and had for years. Why did he only now decide to demand immediate restitution?

“And could he not have given us a warning? Told us what we owe and set a time by which it must be paid?”

“Well now, seems to me you’ve had at least ten years to know what you owe,” the man returned, his gaze sweeping up and down Aislin’s body as if weighing her worth. And perhaps he was. Weighing what they believed she’d stolen. What they’d spent the last ten years waiting for her to give back.

Ten years since she’d become a woman. Ten years since her gift had not manifested. Ten years of disappointment, and of reckoning with the bitter truth that after more than a century, the line of seers in her family had finally come to an end.

Every first daughter for five generations had borne the gift, and each woman subsequently lost her power when her own first daughter was born. Some mourned the loss, but it was not a comfortable magic, and they could rest easy knowing that the daughter would carry on the line when she came of age.

For the past hundred years, the Dreichels had relied on the foresight provided by the seers in Aislin’s family. They had used it to build their power and become prosperous, and were well on their way to becoming permanent fixtures at court.

Until Aislin.

“I would ask for the opportunity to speak to Lord Dreichel myself,” she said, finally finding her voice. “To ask what is owed and request terms of repayment. Until then, please consider granting us a few days of mercy.” She gestured to her grandmother. “As you can see, we cannot simply move on, and even if we could, we have nowhere to go.”

Somehow, her mother still stood in the doorway, making a show of defiant strength she did not have. Aislin was thankful for the support, though she knew they would pay a heavy price once the situation was resolved. As frustrating as the villagers’ pitying glances might be, her mother’s poor health was an even heavier burden, and one neither Aislin nor Old Man Eben could find a remedy to.

“His lordship won’t be happy if we have to come back,” the man warned. “So you’d best have an offer in mind that will cover the debt.”

An offer? What did she have to offer? Even if she had the smallest idea what debt his lordship would propose, they owned nothing of value. Aislin had few skills beyond those required to keep them warm and fed—she could chop wood, raise a garden, cook, clean, haul water, and mend clothing. But what good were any of those to a lord?

“I will,” she promised aloud, with no clue how to keep that promise but no choice other than to try. After all, there was no one else she could rely on.

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