Page 25 of Aofie's Quest
“Icemen are not welcome in the kingdom of men. They are traitors who broke the alliance and allowed the angel of death to set up his rule. It is forbidden.”
My mouth hung open. Wasn’t it bold to judge a race of people by their past?
As though she could read my thoughts, Mother went on. “There was a time when the icemen were allies. They sent rangers down from the mountains and served as our spies. They dwelled with the elves and made themselves useful, blending in among country and city folk alike. Ragged and crude, icemen strike fear into the hearts of others and uncover secrets.”
I thought back to when I met Romulus and a chill went through me.
“At first, we thought the crimes were singular. An iceman raped a woman in a village; there was a beheading in another city when they decided to be executioner instead of bringing the person in for a fair trial. One even set himself up as overlord of a city and bent the people to his will. The list goes on. There is something that makes them cruel and callous, without respect for the lives of others. Their upbringing in the lonely mountains is secluded and often cruel, and when they are released, they hold a deep loyalty to the ways of the mountains and often turn wild. When we met with the Lord of the icemen, he brushed it off, all the while setting up his troops to ambush us. If the angel of death had not been waiting on our doorstep, we surely would have been swept away. But in the chaos, we were able to escape.”
Mother went quiet for a few moments, as if lost in memory. “I don’t know why you travel with an iceman and a nymph, but leave their company as soon as possible. I have my own warriors who will escort you to the elves.”
I dropped my head, hiding my expression from her. Suddenly I felt closer to Romulus and Takari than I did to my own mother. Something inside of me shut down, but a flare of violet light drew my gaze to my hands. A warning rippled through me and the hairs on my neck stood up straight. We weren’t alone in the halls. But when I looked, nothing but darkness floated about us, hemming out everything else.
“They should not have come here,” I said to appease her. “I will tell them to leave in the morning.”
“It has been taken care of,” Mother said briskly. “Get some sleep, Aofie.”
She held out her hand, and I thought she intended to help me stand. Instead, she took the pages of parchment from my hand, pages I’d hoped to read again, and fed them to the flames.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By the timeI woke in the morning, Romulus and Takari were already gone. My stomach knotted at my inability to say goodbye to them. Despite our differences, they had led me straight and true. I hadn’t even been able to offer a simple thanks. My cheeks went warm as I recalled fighting with Romulus and the praise he’d given me. And then there was that pesky dream that made me feel hot and cold all at the same time. Takari, although full of magical tricks, still had a warmth to her, and even though I feared her magic, I missed her honest questions.
Mother introduced me to the elders, praising me as her long-lost daughter who would fight to regain the kingdom of men. They acknowledged me with respect because of my mother’s words. She truly was a queen, and her word was all they needed.
I learned the names of each of my brothers and sisters. Half-siblings. Brianna, Solane, Avalon and Conan. The youngest named for his father, no doubt. They were distant and kept to themselves, and as a week passed, they barely said two words to me.
The underground opened up into a cavernous room where meals were served, gatherings were called, and the people roamed, going about their daily duties, which were comprised of reading, transcribing, sewing, and crafting. Often, I was left to myself. Aside from the gathering for meals, I had plenty of time to myself. I trained to keep my skills sharp, but it was different without an opponent and I did not feel I was making progress. I often found myself walking the halls, pacing like a trapped beast. Elders patrolled the main tunnels, walking to and fro in their long robes, and the occasional warrior. They kept the torches lit and nodded to me as I passed. Although I was treated with kindness, there was a distant respect which left me feeling as alone as I’d felt with the centaurs. Except this time, I did not have the wise counsel of Epona.
Most days we stayed underground, for Mother talked of the trolls who roamed the wood and how we needed to stay hidden from them. I wondered at that, for Romulus had also mentioned trolls, but during my travels I’d seen nothing but fairies, the nymph, and soldiers. If there were trolls in the wood, they were hidden well.
* * *
A low humof music woke me one night. I lay still, listening to the mournful tune—something that reminded me of the Festival of the Turning, a feast and celebration that took place as each season turned, winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, autumn to winter. I’d loved those times, for we took a break from training and tossed all duties aside. I’d always had a taste for honeyed wine, and it was during those times I threw my head back and danced as though nothing else mattered.
The low whisper of a flute came again like a mournful melody in the darkness. I stood and tugged on my clothes. Padding on silent feet, I stole out of the room, leaving the door open just a crack.
The quiet of night was occasionally broken by snores or the wail of a small child, demanding milk from a weary mother, but I’d never heard music before. Stale torchlight flickered but burned low in a quest to save the air it breathed. The flames were trapped underground, like I was, under the command of the kingdom-less queen. Chewing my bottom lip, I pushed anxious thoughts away and trailed my fingers along the dirt wall. The mournful wail grew louder, lost and lonely in the darkness, as though it were the sound my heart would make if I could but hear it.
The words of the letter hummed around me, forsaken words, stolen words. My father was a god. Dagda. Which meant the gods wanted something with Labraid and had a future in mind for it. But what kind of future? The realization crept over me like the light of dawn over the sky. I had to find him. My fingers closed into a fist and my jaw went hard. On my way to the elves to reclaimClaíomh Dearg, the red sword, I would seek word of my father. Surely someone, somewhere would know where he dwelled and the sacred places to reach him.
I stumbled as the tunnel dropped away, leading downhill. The torchlight behind me was nothing but a faint glow and my breath quickened as an unreasonable fear crept over me. The air was thick, musty, and pressed in on all sides. My heart hammered in my chest and when I looked back, darkness consumed the passageway. The music was louder though, and coming to a standstill, I moved my fingers down the wall. It ended.
All I had to do was turn around and use my senses to find my way back to my room. Why had I thought to explore at night? It was unlike me to be so curious, but the endless days, waiting until it was time for my journey to the elves, made me feel restless. I made to turn around when the smell hit me full force. It was a heavy musk, almost animal-like, and beyond it I smelled something dank and wet.
The music broke off.
“Who’s there?” a male voice demanded.
I took a sharp breath and turned to leave, but a flare went up and a torch lit a circular room.
A man hunched near the wall, clutching a flute in one hand and the torch in the other. Long, stringy hair hung over his face and down his shoulders, and the eyes that looked back at me were wide and red-rimmed. My gaze tore across the room. I blinked hard and leaned against the wall for support.
Straw lined the floor, and against the wall were a series of short, squat cages. Inside each one lay or sat a creature. Some had ash-gray skin and others a toad green. Most of them were small, less than three or four feet tall but broad, with tough skin. The torchlight allowed me to see that they had hands like mine, but their heads were large and almost misshapen, with flat noses, and curved fangs hanging out of their closed mouths.
If I did not know any better, I would call them trolls. At least, their appearance fit what I’d heard about trolls. But the creatures were young, quite young. A terrible realization swept over me and my fingers shook. Frozen in horror, I stared as the man moved to my side, so close a whiff of his sour breath made me wrinkle my nose.
“What are you doing down here?” he demanded, lifting the lantern and sniffing. His eyes went wide as the light fell on my hair. “You’re her, aren’t you? The long-lost princess?”
