Fire Falling

“Of course it will be,” he said very matter of fact. Vhalla felt her chest tighten. Aldrik crossed the distance between them and placed his palm under her ear, his fingers wrapping around the back of her neck. He leaned in close and she saw a flash of amusement in his eyes. “To everyone else, of course it will be.”

“To us?” Vhalla didn’t know how a begging tone had slipped into her voice.

“For us, it is waiting four more days until we practice your Projection again.”

She smiled faintly in relief, hoping she understood his meaning correctly. “Until then.”

“Until then.” He straightened and pulled back the tent flap to allow Vhalla to disappear into the cool night.

Her stomach was nothing but butterflies, and she suppressed a strange noise of elation as she walked back to her tent. Vhalla had never known a feeling quite like this before, and she found she enjoyed the bubbles it put in her blood. Four more days; it was far better than a month. Vhalla cupped one hand over the other, feeling phantom lips upon her skin.

Aldrik had been right, it was late. Most of the fires burned low and were located toward the center of camp. Along the edge there were few people. She made it far enough away from Aldrik’s tent before someone noticed that her presence could have been a result of any number of reasons. The quiet night began to subdue her as she neared her tent with every step. She needed to apologize to Larel.

Larel was curled up in her bedroll, and she made no motion as Vhalla changed silently. The air was cool against Vhalla’s bare skin as she undid the bindings she had begun to wear over her breasts to prevent uncomfortable chaffing in her armor. Vhalla’s mind instantly thought back to the prince’s warmth, and it sent a chill of a different kind through her. She sighed as she crawled into the scratchy wool of her blanket.

Vhalla had been content to let things with Larel go until the morning. But the Western woman had only been feigning sleep, and Vhalla was quickly locked into a staring contest. Larel regarded her thoughtfully and allowed the silence to stretch on until it was clear that she was waiting on Vhalla.

“I’m sorry for making you set up the tent alone today.” Vhalla’s ears burned with embarrassment.

“That was no trouble.”

That wasn’t, but how Vhalla had acted was. “I’m sorry also for snapping at you.” She did her best to keep eye contact with Larel, but shame eventually won out and Vhalla avoided the other woman’s gaze. “I didn’t mean it, I was just, I was exhausted and—” Vhalla swallowed her stalling “—Larel, you’re my friend. I couldn’t have done this without you. I wouldn’t have survived this long without you.”

Vhalla choked on emotion. It was true. If it weren’t for everything Larel had done and was continuing to do for her, Vhalla would have been alone. Sure, Aldrik was helping her and he could bring Vhalla as much joy as he could frustration. But things were strange there, because of their own hesitations and the world’s expectations. In comparison, the bond Larel had built with Vhalla was perfectly simple.

Larel’s hand closed around Vhalla’s tightly. “Don’t think on it any longer,” Larel said finally. “I forgive you.”

Vhalla took a shaky breath, clinging to Larel’s palm.

“You are more than a protégé to me, you know. You are a dear friend.” The Western woman ran a hand through Vhalla’s hair lovingly. “I don’t have many friends.”

“I never did either,” Vhalla laughed weakly.

“Aldrik was one of my first friends.” The prince’s name from anyone’s mouth gained Vhalla’s attention, and Larel said it even more easily than Vhalla could. “You shared your secret with the prince. I’ll share mine.”

“You don’t have to.” Vhalla could sense an unfamiliar aura around Larel, one of discomfort.

“I know.” The woman smiled. “But I want you to know I trust you as you trust me.” Larel shifted, her eyes growing distant. “I suppose nothing will make sense unless I start at the very beginning. I came from a very poor family in a small town called Qui.”

“I don’t know it,” Vhalla confessed.

“You wouldn’t, not unless you’ve studied Western mining. Qui is a town around halfway to Norin. At least, if you took the old routes before the Great Imperial Way was extended. Back then many would stop through for supplies or to rest horses.” Larel rolled onto her back, her fingers only lightly entwined with Vhalla’s.

“It’s a town that’s full of more shit than a cow pie.” The woman was uncharacteristically bitter. “My father was a miner who never amounted to anything other than turning alcohol to piss. My mother was a broken woman, and all I think she could do was stare into space, especially after my father hit her.”

Vhalla blinked in a stunned silence.

“There was no money, no future, and no joy there. Mother help me, I hated that shack they called home. One day, I was five, maybe six? My father brought home a man I’d never seen. He said that the man would give us all the money we needed and all I had to do was be a good girl and do as I was told.” Larel placed her forearm on her forehead, staring at something far beyond the canvas above them.

“I didn’t understand until I was alone with that man. I screamed, I cried, and no one came. In that moment, I just wanted them all to die.” Larel sighed softly. Vhalla could hardly process what the woman was implying. “They found me sitting among the ashen remains of that home. I don’t think I mourned once.” She turned back to face Vhalla. “That was when I first Manifested. I was just a child, and a sorceress at that. So I was given to the mines. Every day I was lowered into a hole. I dug and dug. Or made fires, melted things away, or whatever else I could do.”