Page 10 of In Darkness Forged
But Aislin had no choice. Lord Dreichel had given her none, so she smiled encouragingly and told the most appalling lie of her entire life. “It will be fine, Mother. I’ll be perfectly safe, and I’m sure it won’t seem like very long. While I’m gone, please do your best to just rest and look after Grandmother. I’ll be sending someone up to look in on you, but in the meantime, there is food in the larder, and I’ll be chopping enough wood to last you for a while.”
Her mother’s hand still shook, and Aislin read in her eyes that sheknew—knew there was something her daughter couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her. Knew somehow that this was the only way.
“There’s nothing I can do, is there?” she whispered.
Aislin shook her head slowly, and her mother lay back against the pillow, her face grim and starkly drawn in the light of the lantern. “I wish…” But whatever she’d been about to say, she could not even utter the words.
So Aislin set down the lantern and leaned down to hug her mother briefly before straightening and pulling up the covers, hoping to hide the shine of tears in her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. Rest now, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Her mother’s eyes closed, and she nodded. “Do not waste your energy worrying about us,” she whispered fiercely. “I can do more. I know I can. Just please… Please come home to me safely.”
Aislin squeezed her mother’s hand one last time. “I promise,” she said, and then left her to her sleep.
* * *
Once she retreated to the main room of their cottage, it grew more difficult to hold back the tears. What could she do but pray that her words would not prove to be a lie? That shewouldbe safe, and could find some way to keep her promise. That somehow, this entire absurd situation would end well, and her mother would not be robbed of yet another person that she loved.
Scrubbing her cheeks with her sleeves, Aislin looked around and forced herself to think practically. To take stock of what must be done. Wonder what she should take with her. Plan for what she would tell Brannic and Marinda. She would have to chop more wood, fill the cistern, fix the door latch that had been sticking for the past few weeks…
But the distraction was not enough. All the practicality in the world could not hide the truth of what she was about to do, and suddenly the danger became all too frighteningly real.
She was about to leave her home. Go alone into an unknown and hostile wilderness, searching for something so elusive she had no name for it.
Aislin dropped into the chair in front of the barely flickering fire. Put her face in her hands and searched for even the tiniest flicker of hope as her fears swirled and her panic grew.
What had she been thinking? How could she do this? And why was there not even one single person she could talk to, pour out her fears, and hope to receive comfort or advice in return?
How at twenty-two years old, in the place she’d called home for the whole of her life, could she feel so utterlyalone?
Tremors shook her shoulders, while her breathing grew harsh, and her heart pounded uncomfortably. There was no possible way to do what Lord Dreichel required. The wilderness would eat her alive. She was already worn down by the weight of her responsibilities, and this was just one more burden, one more voice crying out that she was not good enough, that she could never truly care for her family in her father’s absence.
And yet… she was still standing. She’d managed so far, if only by refusing to quit. She’d learned the skills she needed to look after her mother and grandmother. Carried the weight of their day-to-day survival for five years now. And she was not entirely without friends. The people of the village would help her as best they could, even if they dared not risk Lord Dreichel’s anger.
Bit by bit, she clawed her way back to focus and purpose. Reminded herself that she was strong and stubborn and determined. That she had too much to fight for. She’d never once given up just because her situation appeared hopeless, and she wasn’t about to start now. She’d been looking after her family alone since she was seventeen. And she had Brannic and Marinda, who had encouraged her without fail since her father left.
She could do this. How, she had no idea. But Lord Dreichel had given her no options. Go and do the impossible, or…
Or what? His grim threats had not been particularly specific, but Aislin could not doubt his meaning.
Succeed or die.
And even Lord Dreichel seemed to believe that her chances of bargaining successfully with the night elves were slim.
Night elves. Why did it have to be night elves?
Aislin knew little of that reclusive people other than what was repeated in fireside tales, which had likely been embellished past the point of recognition.
Terrifying shape-shifters who raided Farhall’s borders and then disappeared into the night, they were said to appear as shadows with glowing eyes, often wielding magic along with their blades.
Many years ago, they had occasionally traded with humans, and while relations had never been exactly warm, they had at least not been overtly hostile until relatively recently. Now, even the sight of a night elf was considered little more than a harbinger of death, although Aislin had never heard of them raiding the lands around Brightvale.
Perhaps the stories were exaggerated. Surely they did not actually kill humans on sight. And really, how much of a threat could one woman be? They might laugh at her and refuse her request—after all, she had no way to pay whatever ruinous price they might ask—but they were people, not monsters. No one meted out death as the penalty for a question, did they?
Whether they did or not, it wasn’t as if any amount of planning could help her. She had no choice but to pay whatever they asked, so her greatest concern must be preparing her family for her absence. There was so much to arrange—favors to beg for, promises to be made, and plans to put in motion. She had only a single night, and might be gone for as much as an entire season.
So with a deep, fortifying breath, Aislin rose from the chair, firmed her jaw, and set about doing what she could. And by the time morning came, she was as ready as she was going to get. Her tiny pack rested by the door, the stone was safe in a drawstring pouch around her neck, and the main room of their little cottage was as clean as she could make it. She’d also left all of the food Brannic had given her, hauled a week’s worth of water in the dark, and chopped enough wood to see them through ten days or more if they were careful.
As she wove her black hair into a tight braid and tied the end with a leather cord, Aislin gazed around, looking for any task she may have forgotten. When she saw nothing, she pulled on one of her father’s old leather jerkins over her patched dress and petticoat and tied the laces. Beneath the skirt, she donned a pair of woolen leggings and sturdy boots, hoping grimly that the night elves were not easily influenced by wealth and status. No matter how strong her determination might be, there was certainly nothing impressive about her appearance.