From Ashes and Snow

The Canyon.

Unedited. 

Chapter 41: The Canyon .

When I had left Aoak, I did so with a cloak over my head to hid my too-long ears. A ratty pack hung from my narrow shoulders and I tripped and trailed beyond the strange Elf who had given me the chance of a life-time. My parents anger had turned my ears crimson, my brothers spitting words of betrayal. We had always stuck together and I had been the ungrateful child who had left at the first offer.

 I refused to feel guilty about leaving Aoak – my life would have been one of spiteful comments, marrying any man who would lower himself to a half-breed bitch and scraping money together to feed starving children.

No.

The life of a half-blood was hard. The life of a female half-blood was worse. I had only hopes and dreams when I left Aoak.

I didn't leave Dratlan. Dratlan had left me. The tall, imposing walls. The light, the laughter and comfort of my tight-knit family of trained soldiers had left me that dark nights. I was a spectre, wandering the dark trees of Dratlan valley as I searched for the lights from the Keep and the laughter that drifted over the walls, the ringing sound of clashing steel that welcomed me home always.

This time, I left Haaling on the saddle of the mare I called my own and a trail of soldiers and workers stretching out on the road behind me. A squadron of Paladins had been left behind in Haaling to keep it running and to stop bandits from over-taking it, but those who chosen to come with us had been made up of the majority.

It had taken time for things to come to fruition. Plans had to be made and, in that time, the Nirani only tried to tighten their grip. I had ridden out to Blackwater to avoid the more rigorous planning and the increasingly cutting words crossing the Map-Room as tensions grew heavy. I had severely underestimated the work it would take to move everything. Horses, weapons, equipment, food, books and countless other things that I had never thought of. The people at least, were easier.

My hand drifted to the pack hanging from Arrow's side. I had never been overly sentimental, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving anything that we had recovered at the bandit camp. Heslan's knife joined the Alelang blade at my hip.

My last nights in Haaling had been restless. As the outpost grew small on the horizon, a path of wagons, walkers and horses lining the road behind me, I felt sadly hopeful. The cold hallways wouldn't be my base anymore, but I could return. The little cubbyholes that I had hidden in. The squashed kitchen. The cold tea in the middle of the night.

I quashed that quickly. Hope blossomed in the Legion quickly, excitement burning like a wildfire in a dry forest. They were excited about moving, though only the chosen few knew where. Rumours spread of course – we were moving to another Paladin outpost. We were returning to the old Elven Keeps that were left uninhabited after the attacks.

The campfires at night, scattering across the side of the roads and the hive of noise made me feel like the stars had fallen and they burned on the grass, laughing at their fall. Though I missed my bed in Haaling, I had always loved the scent of the earth around me as I slept and the movement beyond my tent reminded me of the women moving about the room in Dratlan in early mornings.

The rains came and so did the snow, but the Magins fire burned hot. I would have frowned before at the frivolous use of magic. Ten years training under my Mentors had taught me to preserve magic and to let my body struggle until the point where it simply couldn't, but this warmth kept the people smiling. There were children too, who had come with their parents who worked for the Legion and they laughed and clapped at the magic shows a Magin would sneakily put on when they thought no one was looking.