Air Awakens

“Larel?” Vhalla blinked.

The Western woman smiled faintly, turning to Craig and Daniel. “I will take her from here. I am her escort to the Tower,” Larel informed Vhalla’s companions.

They nodded. “We will leave her to you then,” Craig said.

Vhalla turned. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said in earnest.

“Take care, Miss Windwalker,” Daniel added, with a sad but genuine smile. “Maybe we’ll see you on the march?”

“You’ll be there?” Vhalla asked as Larel took her hand gently.

“We will,” Craig affirmed with a nod.

Vhalla opened her mouth but there wasn’t time to say anything else. She gave her guards one more nod of appreciation before allowing Larel to lead her away. Vhalla had never been more ready to leave anywhere in her life. Her head was still reeling from the verdict.

Larel lead her quietly and efficiently through the hallways of the castle. They wove between main halls and down small side passages, avoiding all people. Eventually, they arrived at a large painting of the Father. He was leaning against a pile of rubble, lusting after a distant point of light in the sky. Larel pushed it to the side, motioning for Vhalla to step through.

Vhalla immediately knew she was in the Tower, as the candles and torches had been replaced with flame bulbs. A wave of emotion washed over her, and she leaned against the stone, trying to catch her breath. It hadn’t sunk in yet. Larel rested a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Your room isn’t far,” Larel spoke softly, focused on one task at a time.

“My room?” she repeated.

“And your black robe,” she said very matter of fact. Vhalla followed her numbly to the main stairwell. They turned left and proceeded upward. They passed the door that Vhalla knew led to the room where she had healed, then they continued up. A few doors after, they reached one that looked much like any other, save for a unique steel plaque in its center. She rested her hand upon it, feeling the letters engraved on its surface, Vhalla Yarl. Larel produced an iron skeleton key and unlocked it.

The room was an upgrade from her previous quarters. It had similar standard-issue furniture. There was a decent-sized wardrobe, mirror, desk, and chair. None of this attracted her attention.

Vhalla walked over to a large floor-to-ceiling window, unhooking the latch. She stepped out onto a small balcony, barely more than a window ledge with a railing. It was the first time she had been outside in days, and the cold crisp air greeted her like an old friend.

“Is this really my room?” she asked in awe.

Larel nodded. “The minister thought, given your Affinity, that a room like this would be good for you.”

Vhalla wondered how many other apprentices in the Tower—in the whole palace—had a room with outdoor access, however small and limited.

She walked back inside. Opening the wardrobe she found all her clothes neatly hung inside.

“I brought your things,” Larel explained.

Vhalla noticed a familiar trunk beneath her bed. The rest of her meager possessions had been neatly organized at the base of her wardrobe. Vhalla bit her lip when she noticed a thick pile of notes, organized and bound tightly with a piece of twine. She looked back at Larel.

“I didn’t read them,” Larel said softly. “Your correspondence with the prince isn’t my business.”

“How did you know they were from him?” Vhalla asked dumbly.

“I’ve known the prince a long time. He is a talented and powerful Firebearer. It’s hard for him to make anything without leaving a little trace magic on it. It’s faint enough that even most magical people wouldn’t know much by it, but...” she shrugged, not really finishing.

Vhalla ran her fingertips over the top of the stack wistfully. If only she could return to those days.

“Did you hear the verdict?” Vhalla asked, shutting her wardrobe.

“The minister just told me you were part of the Tower now.” Larel shook her head.

“I was found not guilty for half—the better half—of my crimes. But for what I was found guilty for... I’ve been drafted into the army. I’m property of the Empire now. I will leave with the soldiers as they head back to fight.” Her tone was level and dull, the numbness hadn’t worn off yet.

“Property?” Larel gasped. Vhalla simply nodded at her. “Do you know anything about combat?” Vhalla shook her head. “Have you ever fought someone before in your life?” Vhalla shook her head again. “They’re trying to get you killed.” Larel was brave enough to say it aloud.

“Yes, I think that’s the plan,” Vhalla agreed weakly.

“They march soon, I hear.” Larel sat heavily in the room’s single chair and took a moment to let it sink in.

“Well, you can have my room when I’m dead,” Vhalla remarked darkly. It wasn’t as though she deserved as nice a room as this.

“You will not die,” Larel announced, determined. “We will heal you and then, when you march, you will be trained in the legions. I’ll speak with Prince Aldrik and Major Reale.”

“Major Reale?” Vhalla swallowed. She wanted to share the woman’s determination, but that would mean everything happening to her was real.

“Major Reale is one of the leaders of the Black Legion under Prince Aldrik and Head Major Jax, though I think Jax is still at the front. Major Reale is here, and she will be marching back as well. The march will take two or three months headed north,” Larel explained. “It only took a month to get here, but the men were lighter loaded with enough horses to go around. This time there will be new recruits, so they will be marching on foot. There will also be heavily burdened pack horses and carts bringing food and supplies. And the army will stop to pick up additional soldiers from the West at the Crossroads, I hear. You’ll gain some time there also. All that time you will be training.”