Heart of Flame

VII. Departure

The storm raged around Sakana for a full two days, most of which Sorne spent asleep in a bed. It felt like heaven after weeks on the road with only a blanket and she knew she would miss it when she headed north. She woke before just barely before dawn on the third day of her stay, much like she would have if she had been in Mauléon. It was strange, but she no longer thought of it as home. Sorne had expected that she might miss it, her simple little life, but every thought of the keep and its holdings left a bitter taste in her mouth. She got up and dressed without a rush, dragging a brush that Aitor had given her through her hair as she headed out of the tower towards the northern-facing ramparts around Sakana.

By the time she reached it, the false dawn had lit the horizon in orange and gold, the sun only a few minutes behind. The view was a beautiful one, the blue foothills of a vast, jagged mountain-range that made the peaks visible from Mauléon look like mole-hills. Ash Kordh was mostly shattered earth, so mountainous so that most maps stopped bothering to mark it as such. It was simply assumed.

The lower slopes of the white-capped peaks were shrouded in forests of pine and fir trees, woods that had never known fear of men's axes. Aitor had said the whole territory was primeval, the ancient growths only tamed by the occasional wildfire. And then there was the river itself, glowing gold as the dawn's light was reflected across its currents.

"Morning," Mattin grumbled as he climbed up the stairs to the top of the Wall. This section was as solid as the rock it was built on, far sturdier than the sections that sappers had undermined centuries ago. He had his pipe caught in his teeth as he stepped up, wearing his armor and that battered old sword. "Didn't mean to disturb you much."

"I don't mind," Sorne said, turning towards him. She gave the older man a smile. "You meant to disturb me a little?"

"Storm's blown by. Still want to head north?" he said, scratching at his beard. Instead of looking at her, he studied the view and fished a match out of the lining of his surcoat.

"Yes, I do. Did Josu and Aitor send you to talk me out of it?"

He chuckled. "No. If I'm being honest, didn't really think I could do it or even ought to. Clear as a spring morning that you know your own mind just fine." He struck the match and lit his pipe, puffing thoughtfully for a moment before he continued. Sorne didn't know Mattin well, but she understood that he was a man who sometimes took a while to say what he was thinking, if he did at all. "Isn't all it's cracked up to be, Astarac."

Sorne smiled. "And Ash Kordh is?"

"Wild country, it is. We've only mapped the edges of it, really, and I don't know if it can ever be completely known. Too much magic. I went out in it once, with a hunting party, and bumbled into one of the khiirdu. That's what orcs call the places that don't fit right, where magic cracked the world and put it back together not as it was. Took us weeks to find our way out of what looked like one tiny valley." He looked over at her, eyes serious. "It's more than what they say, Sorne. Every sonuvabitch from here to Soule'll swear up and down that there's demons and orcs and all kinds of things out there. But that doesn't even scratch the surface of what Ash Kordh is." He sighed and smiled almost wistfully. "Place of dreams and visions."

"You sound very taken with it," Sorne said as she leaned against the wall, studying Mattin now instead of the view. He seemed thoughtful, but pleasantly so.

"I've been here a good fifteen years. I love it," Mattin said. "Gives a man space to think and that's just what I need. Mind, I didn't carve the eye out of a duke."

Sorne's entire body tensed.

Before she could say anything, Mattin just smiled. "I think we both know he earned it full well," the warden said. "There's rotten people in the world, Sorne. I'm old enough to know that. You aren't the first person he's burned and you won't be the last."