Earth's End

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Aldrik shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. “I told you, there are some things that I will never want to talk about. I need—” He swallowed thickly. “I need you to just accept that.”

Vhalla studied his face as he continued to avoid eye contact with her. There was a dangerous line she’d toed up against. The last time he had acted so out of sorts was the time she had confessed to having knowledge of his suicide attempt.

Taking a step closer, Vhalla reached out and pulled him to her, resting her cheek against his chest. His arms hung limply for a few breaths before sliding around her shoulders. Vhalla closed her eyes. “I accept it. I’m sorry for prying.”

“My Vhalla, my lady, my love,” he sighed.

“It’s all right; I understand.” In truth, she didn’t. Vhalla didn’t have any dark secret so horrible that it scrambled her mind. She didn’t have anything that would shut her down and turn her to stone at the mention of it, not even the Night of Fire and Wind.

But she understood that whatever it was must be horrific. Anything that could inspire someone to take their own life must be. Vhalla swallowed. There was a darkness at the very deepest part of her prince she had yet to penetrate. The fear it ignited in her paled in comparison to her desire to spend enough time with him to bring light into that void.

Their exchange raked against both their thoughts, making them silent throughout her Projection. Vhalla mindlessly traversed the long distance between the camp palace and Soricium. She kept her thoughts locked away within the innermost part of her mind to prevent any from reaching outward to him.

That cloud hung over them into the evening. Her time in the palace wasn’t very fruitful, some basic tidbits of information but nothing that could shift the tides of war in their favor. Aldrik told her to try to find out more information on the spies, but she couldn’t even find the Westerner. Wherever he was, the informant did an unintentionally good job of avoiding her.

In all, it felt disappointing and useless, and Vhalla was forced to swallow the fact that she couldn’t find a wealth of information every time she walked Soricium. Aldrik managed to swallow the same facts, with the help of a strong drink or two, and slowly the cloud dissipated. Their days fell into a repetition of short meetings with the majors in the mornings and evenings and of Projections during the day.

They tried to weed out the spy and debated it often in private, but to no avail. However the spies were communicating, it was well-orchestrated, and they seemed to have it down to a science. Vhalla would scan the faces of the majors at meetings, wondering who among them would put a knife through Aldrik’s shoulder blades. But nothing ever came of their search.

It was the monotony that finally began to rake against Vhalla’s brain. Her curiosity and hunger for new knowledge was stinted by the fact that she seemed to be taking a lot of steps to get nowhere. It didn’t help that Aldrik was intent on keeping her under house arrest. After the attempt on her life while moving the tower and the knowledge of spies in camp, he intentionally kept her busy within the camp palace at all times.

After two weeks of it she was ready to go crazy, and the fates took pity on her.

Vhalla pushed herself through the stone walls of Soricium as she had before, ignoring the oblivious Northerners. She wandered upward, through the various stairways within the trees and onto the platforms and walkways beyond.

She was beginning to learn the palace well enough that she would soon feel confident telling Aldrik she could lead someone through its walls. That was a whole different fear. She knew who would be leading the charge, and it stayed her tongue when Aldrik would ask how well she had learned the maze-like passageways.

He would be at the front. He would trust no one else at her side, and the idea of leading him headfirst into the most hostile environment in the world filled Vhalla with uncontrollable dread.

Up, around, countless switchbacks, and up further still, Vhalla retraced the previous days’ steps until she was in uncharted territory. She came to a wide platform with a low and intricately carved rail. Leaning against a beautifully sculpted alcove was a lean and sharp-looking woman, the archer Vhalla had seen before, and a younger girl no older than fourteen. The archer was on one side of the alcove and the girl on the other, the woman between them.

“Why do they move as they do?” the lean and sharp-looking woman asked.

Vhalla assumed the woman was the head clan’s Chieftain due to her delicate headdress.

I finally found him, Vhalla reported to Aldrik. She stared at the Western man addressing the three woman.

“The Westerner?” Aldrik asked.

Yes, but I need to listen.

Her prince withheld further comment.

“Have you considered our new deal? Perhaps my insights could be improved then,” the Westerner responded.

“You dare withhold information from me?” The woman’s Southern Common was clearer and finer than the other Northerner’s.

“Most certainly not, my lady. I only meant certain things could further improve our relationship.”

“My lady,” the woman repeated with malice. “Spare me your Southern notions of nobility.”

“I am not Southern.” The man bristled. “My people were enslaved by the greed of Solaris, much as yours are currently threatened by it. He turned Mhashan’s rich history into nothing more than a compass point on his map. I know your suffering.”