The Adani Chronicles: Birthright

The three travelers who stumbled into The Blue Flagon three days after the baelfire were haggard and exhausted as any ever seen in the town of Retwood. Dripping rainwater from every piece of tattered clothing they wore, they stumbled into the inn and asked for two rooms before shutting themselves in for several hours.

Brandt emerged first, in time for dinner, and moved to the main room of the lodge where he asked for three tankards of ale and chose a spot near the blazing hearth. It was still summer, but even the plains on this side the Dragonbacks were higher than his home in Sannfold, and the air was a bit chill. He sipped his ale quietly, enjoying the rich heady taste as he awaited his brother and their friend.

Friend.

He pondered the title his mind had assigned to the Lady with the Lynx. It fit, he supposed; she had saved his life multiple times, restored his brother to him, and he and Evin had both returned the favor on this journey, but that was to be expected when one traveled with another. It was no remarkable thing. Her bloodline, and the magic within it, clearly made her someone of import; but the idea of befriending someone simply because of their usefulness was repulsive to Brandt. No, their friendship had begun earlier than that, before Thaliondris. He remembered how difficult it had been to make the decision to leave her and strike for the city, in the hopes of finding help for both himself and Kota, and decided that must have been his first inkling that the lass had become more than a simple guide to him.

He suspected she was much more than that to Evin, and probably had been for much longer.

Sighing deeply, Brandt took another swig of ale. She was right about Evin, too, and he was going to have to tell his brother about Râza. Before the monster found him and told him himself, in whatever twisted, evil way such a creature would. How had the Val’gren found them? Discovered their identity? Hunted them down like animals for slaughter? Eirik, Brandt, and Evin had been the only ones who knew of their quest—even their mother had been kept in the dark, though Brandt suspected she had known more than they told her. She was a princess, after all, had been through the process of crowning a new King before with her own brother. Eirik’s quest, thirty years prior, had been similar to theirs—find the Sword of Laresh, one of their ancestors whose weapon had been stolen centuries before. The quest, while not easy, had been possible at least; there had been a lead on the sword long before Eirik came of age. His final test as Crown Prince had been to follow the lead til it ended—and either bring the sword home, or tell of its final loss. For his son Gunnar, the King had crafted such a quest: reports had trickled in when the Crown Prince was still a stripling, of the First Crest of the Vaeärne, an amulet of untold value and, if the stories were to be believed, magical power. Further, more recent, investigation had tracked it to the Lair of the Beast, north of Retwood, and Gunnar’s jofurr aetla, his Crown Quest, had been thus assigned: he was to retrieve the amulet. He had been allowed to choose one companion, but no one else was to know of the quest, as was tradition. Gunnar had chosen Brandt.

When he had died, both the crown and the quest had fallen to Brandt instead, who’d had little choice but to bring Evin, for the younger knew of the quest without being told and had threatened to follow him from afar if Brandt did not bring him along. He didn’t normally respond well to threats of that nature, especially from someone he’d taught how to track the way Evin did, but Brandt wasn’t convinced all was well in the Court of the King. Someone had given Gunnar’s position away that fateful day, there was no other explanation for it, and it stood to reason all the male heirs to the Throne were likely in grave danger, if there were a spy among the court. Of course, taking Evin meant leaving no one behind to protect Eirik, but Brandt had many secrets, and one of the weightier ones was the knowledge that between Eirik and Evin, his loyalties lay entirely with his younger brother.

Given Evin’s parentage, that may have made him a traitor in some eyes. Perhaps even in Uncle Eirik’s. He did not care.

“What have you ordered us, Brother?” Evin smiled as he flopped down in the chair to Brandt’s left, reaching for his foamy mug.

Brandt allowed a small grin to form as his brother tasted the ale, groaning at the taste of something other than water or tea. It really was very good ale. “Nothing, yet. I did not know what you wanted to eat.”

“I could eat anything,” the younger man responded with a good-natured laugh. “I’m hungry enough to eat a moose.”

Ryn joined them then, a hand reaching down automatically to tangle in Kota’s fur, but the lynx wasn’t with them. To no one’s pleasure at all, Ryn had sent him to skirt the town gates and find somewhere warm to hunker down. Both men had protested, until she explained that no one liked a large wild cat hanging around their inn, and it was hardly the first time they had utilized this arrangement, she and Kota.

That did not mean she was happy about it. Flexing her hand, the girl sighed and moved to grab her own tankard. “Ale?” she asked, and Brandt nodded. “Good.” She sucked down half the tankard in one go, then met both their eyes, practically daring either of them to say a word about it.

Neither did.

“I have been doing some thinking,” Ryn said, eyes tired and face drawn. She looked much better than she’d been immediately after healing Evin, but still not fully well.

Brandt felt his stomach flip with uncertainty—what was swirling behind those green eyes? Would she betray his trust? Ryn took a deep breath to gather herself, then said very quickly, “There is something neither of you know about me. My mother was Laendorian, as I’ve told you, and I grew up in Bren Valley. But my father…” She swallowed, studied her tankard for a moment. “He was from Southdale, and it was no secret.” She studied their reactions for a moment—but this was nothing terribly surprising to either man, socially unacceptable though it was, and now Brandt realized perhaps part of the reason she’d been on her own for so long.

Not exactly enemies, Southdale and Laendor weren’t precisely allies, either, and neither country would want to claim one so obviously half-bred. When neither of them said anything, Ryn continued earnestly, as though she needed to convince them. “Papa was a good man. He’d been cast out of his home in the south, why exactly I never learned, but he and Mama loved each other more than any couple I’ve ever seen. They were excellent parents. Papa showed me how to hunt and track and gather, how to survive anywhere, and what plants will heal instead of kill.” She blinked rapidly, hard, took a slightly shaky breath. “He could make anything grow anywhere, and served our town faithfully as a healer for years, but no one there liked him because he was a foreigner. I took more after him than Mama.” She shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her cup again.

So folk hadn’t liked her much there, either, if she took after her foreign father.

“Talos was like Mama, though,” she smiled. Brandt didn’t know who Talos was, though he suspected he must be the long-lost brother Ryn mentioned from time to time. “He was the pride and joy of Arodar. My uncle had even named him his heir to be lord of our lands.”

Arodar. He knew the town. It had been destroyed a decade or so ago by a vicious Val’gren attack. Lord Rayleng and his entire family had died. Pieces slotted into place, and Brandt’s eyes widened.

“He deserved better,” Evin murmured from his side, reaching across the table to put a hand on Ryn’s where she fiddled with her tankard. She stilled and sighed.

“They all did.”

Brandt felt for Ryn, he did. He’d suspected she had some tragic history, but he hadn’t known how extensive it was or how closely their stories resembled one another. His life, too, had been shattered by the Val’gren, more than once, though he’d been lucky enough to get to keep his mother and brother, at least. He felt a kinship with his wandering friend that was entirely new.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Brandt said gently. “Thank you for telling us.” Ryn managed a small smile for him, then leaned back and sighed softly.

“Why bring this up now?” Evin asked suddenly from beside him. He took another sip of ale before continuing. “Obviously you’ve fulfilled your contract; we made it to Retwood in one piece.” He laughed a little, a brittle sound. “Stars, I’d say you went above and beyond to make sure that happened. You must really need that access to the Archives. But why tell us this now, at the end of the job? Did you think it would matter to us that you’re half Southdaler?”

Ryn shook her head. “Because I—” she started, then paused. A second later, she huffed in annoyance and emptied her tankard. She set the tin pint down deliberately and looked Evin in the eyes, then Brandt.

He waited, intrigued to hear her answer. Ryn set her jaw visibly. “Because somewhere along the road, this became more than a job. I trust you both to see past my parentage and remember all the times I’ve proven my worth. Our contract may be fulfilled, but Kota and I wish to accompany you to the end of your quest and see you safely home.”

Brandt forcibly schooled his features so she didn’t see his surprise. He knew Evin held Ryn in high regard, and he himself trusted her implicitly; but he’d never been convinced she was the type to let a job get too personal.

Then again, this job had been extremely personal for all of them since Thaliondris. Frankly, he found himself relieved she didn’t want to cut and run, for the journey back was to be nearly as dangerous as the journey here.

“Well, you have to come to Sannfold anyway to obtain...payment...for your services,” he said, smiling kindly. “Perhaps we should all just go together.”

Evin grinned, and Brandt knew it was the right choice. She and Kota would be invaluable on the way back, even though that hadn’t been their original commitment. “Do you wish to agree on another contract?”

Ryn looked affronted, and both he and Evin laughed outright. “I thought not.” As the serving girl passed, Brandt asked her for three more ales. She nodded once and moved to retrieve them.

“Brandt and I feel the same way, you know,” Evin added, once the laughter quieted and they were all properly stocked with more ale. “You’re more than just a guide now, you’re a friend. Frankly, we both owe you a blood debt several times over—”

Ryn held up a forestalling hand. “If you truly count me a friend, do not keep account, Evin. I’ll hear none of it.”

“Well then,” Brandt answered, raising his freshly refilled tankard. Evin followed suit, then Ryn. “I’ll drink to that.”

And they did.

All three ate a quick meal of roast lamb and hearty bread, full of the companionable silence that comes from complete exhaustion and total unity of purpose, finished their drinks, and retired to bed. The next day would be one of resting and refitting, the last they would see on this side of the quest. The Beast’s Lair awaited.

It was a wet night, the darkness near complete as the clouds covered the moon and stars. As the Watchman called the hour past midnight, a lone figure picked its way through the muddy streets. Well-armed and dressed for traveling far and fast, no one challenged him as he slipped out of the town gates uncontested.