18Note: Okay this is my next project when After Midnight is finished. I am not sure when I will be working on the next chapter but the ideas are churning in my head endlessly so it will likely be sooner than later.
I was going to sit on it for awhile and accrue more chapters but I'm really curious about whether or not anyone would even be interested in this so I decided to post. Feedback, desperately wanted! It helps if I don't just feel like I'm whistling into the wind. :)
The wind cut like a knife and the sheer force of it nearly sent Micah over the edge of the crag for the third time since he and Edwynn had begun to climb. He tried to mask his creeping fear as they descended lower down the face of the Fall, but the edges of rock dug into his fingers like daggers, and the swirling gray water so many thousands of feet below made him swallow thickly.
Micah had never been very fond of climbing the crag as so many other of the youth in the village were, but Edwynn had demanded they go, so he had gone.
A particularly vicious gust swirled past them, and Micah's teeth clicked together as he slammed against Edwynn's solid form. He cast a side look at the older boy and frowned. Edwynn looked as though he were climbing a tree, not the edge of the world. But then he did have on thick leather gloves and a heavy wool doublet, while Micah had been foolish enough to only don a threadbare, roughspun tunic. Not that he had much else to don.
"How far are we going?" Micah grit out, stopping on a sharp outcropping of the face. He looked over the edge and couldn't hide his grimace. Even thought they were moving further and further away from the mountaintop and the village, the ocean was still far enough below that the roaring waves were nothing but a faint sound.
"I haven't decided yet," Edwynn said with all the confidence of a young lordling. "I want to get as far as we can. People in Auren Hall often talk about the Fall, but none of the others have ever climbed the thing. I mean to be the first."
"People die climbing it all the time," Micah replied dubiously. He perched himself on the edge, feeling a lot calmer with solid rock beneath him. "Children especially. The winds sweep them off the edge and down into the water, or smash their brains out on the rocks."
Edwynn gave a careless shrug, still peering down. "Good thing we are no children."
Micah said nothing, and looked at his bleeding hands dully. The excitement of going off with the highborn young man had faded fast when he'd found out what kind of exploring Edwynn had wanted to do. His thick, dark hair and light brown eyes didn't quite make up for the fact that Micah was now frozen to the bone, and had hands that would be bruised and swollen on the morrow when he went to strum at the inn.
Darren would be thrilled about that, Micah thought sourly. The old man had been irritated enough that Micah had quit entertaining his guests as soon as Lord Edwynn Eriksen of Auren Hall had paid him a bit of attention. He'd be even meaner when Micah couldn't strum his lute at all.
"Damn it all," he muttered.
Edwynn turned his thick lashed brown eyes over to him curiously. "What is it? You seemed eager enough to come earlier."
Micah opened his mouth, but the slightly annoyed expression on Edwynn's face shut him up.
"I want to get to that point there," Edwynn said when Micah didn't protest further. He pointed down at another jagged outcropping far below. It looked near frozen, and shone like crystals in the pale sunlight. Even from this distance, Micah could tell it would be covered in a sheen of ice, but Edwynn didn't seem concerned; or perhaps he didn't notice.
"That's where they say Varys the Wise slew the great mist lord Aeron."
Micah rolled his eyes. Varys the Wise could go bugger himself, and Aeron too while he was at it. He would prefer that Edwynn bugger him, but that seemed to be a far flung dream at this point.
He pressed his back against the cold stone, and fought the urge to draw his knees up to his chest and huddle in on himself. He was taller than Edwynn, broader of shoulder; he was a fallen man, and Edwynn was a castle-bred boy with soft hands. By rights, Micah should be the one looking unfazed.
At that thought, Micah made himself stand again and looked over the edge. "They say Varys disappeared into the waves with Aeron," he allowed reluctantly. "When Aeron fell from the ledge, he pulled Varys down with him. But Varys-"
"-emerged later at the White Spire, and Aeron disappeared beyond the unseen veil with his mist demons," Edwynn finished with a grin.
"It's an old story."
Edwynn regarded him evenly with his head tilted to the side. "I'm surprised your people aren't more pious. There is a statue of Varys the Wise in the center of Auren, and we pray at the sept every morning. I thought the fallen men would know more of the legends, I suppose. Details that the rest of us would not."
Edwynn's mouth turned down in a frown and his eyes narrowed. He looked disappointed and irritated at the same time, as if it were Micah's fault for not knowing more.
Micah though that if Edwynn had come seeking something other than tales of the old gods and heroes, he'd have finished climbing in a much better mood.
He shifted closer to the lordling, wondering if there was really not more to this trip. When Edwynn had first stepped foot in the White Crossing, he'd ignored every eager child and sharp eyed woman and listened with rapt fascination as Micah had strummed his lute and sung nonsense ballads to entertain the visiting nobles from Auren.
It had seemed too good to be true when Edwynn had commanded him to leave early and go exploring. This elegant young man of seventeen couldn't be interested in a lowborn boy three years his junior, could he?
But when his long fingers had folded around Micah's arm and he'd suggested they go down to the face of the Fall where lovers so often came together to meet in secret on the lower step, it had seemed so very possible. Now Micah saw that it had been too good to be true. His highborn conquest was worse than some untouched iron man, with his head full of legends and songs.
"I should go back," he said after a stretch of silence with Edwynn mooning over the rocks, and Micah feeling like his balls were crawling up into his body. "Darren is going to skin me."
"Darren?"
"The innkeep."
Edwynn looked at him blankly for a stretch before realization dawned on him. His blank stare morphed into something more akin to shock. "You work at the inn? I thought you were just playing for... enjoyment."
Micah snorted at that, and turned back to the face of the cliff. "No, my lord. I play the lute when there's folk wanting music. When there ain't, I tend bar or try a hand in the kitchen, and when I muck up the stew, I take my turn as potboy."
"Really?"
The word was so heavy with dismay that Micah actually paused and looked over his shoulder. His mouth quirked slightly. He wondered what Edwynn had thought his status might be in the village. Auren was less than a dozen leagues away, and yet they were as ignorant about the village as the rich nobles in Meridian were, and the capital was clear across the kingdom.
"Sorry, my lord. I did not mean to disappoint."
"No," Edwynn said hastily, looking genuinely contrite. "I did not mean it that way- I just... You sing so beautifully and you seem so..."
Not like the coarse unlettered folk in the village, Micah finished silently. He made a face and began climbing. He felt more foolish by the moment.
The climb back up was easier than the climb down. Perhaps it was Micah knew this little adventure was over, and not going to drag out slowly as Edwynn sought to reach some legendary strip of rock.
By the time he reached the top, his fingers were worse off, but the dizzy and anxious feeling had departed. They made their way across the pale grass on the first step of the village, and climbed the stone stair that was etched into the side of the mountain to the second step, where the heart of the village lay. Edwynn looked on it like it was something marvelous, but all outsiders had that tendency. They didn't feel the pale grass that scratched and pulled like thorns and swayed in the constant wind like ghostly sentinels, they didn't see the oppressive gray stone buildings that blended in with the gray mountain, and they didn't understand how wearying it was to feel the constant sting of salt dampened air. All they saw was legends. They even saw it in the expansive gray forest that surrounded the village of the Fall.
"Darren's sent Isla out looking for you," a pale-haired young woman called out as they set out on the road that wove through the tiny village. The cobblestones that had once been laid were so old and worn, that they were practically flattened into the earth.
Micah looked over to see Ivy, twin to Isla, smiling at him widely as she crouched in the fenced circle near her cottage and tended Milly. Ivy ran her fingers through the goat's fur and watched them. She seemed far too amused by other people's troubles.
"Did you tell him where I was?"
Ivy smirked, giving Edwynn a brisk once over. She let the smirk turn into a leer. "No. But if I'd known you were with this young lord, I'd have given him an earful about what you were got up to in the steps. It truly is a shame..."
Micah waved her off. Edwynn looked puzzled. They walked on, and the heart of the village sprawled out meagerly before them. It wasn't anything more than mean stone cottages and shacks spread out along the edge of the cliff. There wasn't even a wall to close off their dwellings from the Silverwood on one side, or the open air beyond the Fall to the other.
There was a time when the sun would shine down with near blinding intensity without a hint of shade to protect them. Oppressive clouds blocked it as of late, and the unrelenting wind did nothing to push them away. The stone village looked drearier in essence, and Micah didn't quite understand what Edwynn saw in it.
"What did she mean?"
Micah pushed long strands of white-blond hair out of his eyes as the wind whipped at it furiously.
"Ivy?"
Edwynn nodded as his boots clicked along the stone path. He stuck out in the small village, but didn't seem to mind the attention. When the village men looked at his fashionably well tended clothes, heavy fur lined cape, and the likely unused long sword at his hip, all he did was smile and wave.
"What did she think we may have been up to?"
Micah stopped walking and looked at Edwynn incredulously. "Are you truly this dimwitted, or are you just playing the fool?"
A flash of something crossed Edwynn's face, and his mouth curled downward. His cheek ticked, and fingers rested nearly absently on the golden pommel of his sword. It was a motion that made Micah think back on something his father had said before the storm and the winds that had taken his life: Edwynn's lordhood was showing.
"You may want to guard your tongue better, lad. My father is second brother to the Lord of Auren Hall."
Micah quieted at that and rocked back on the heels of his worn boots. It was hard to etch courtesy into fallen men, something that the old folks always said but he'd never understood the meaning of until now. The absence of royalty and peers of the kingdom from the silverwood and the crag made their titles and ranks mean little to the men who lived on the mean, windswept villages by the sea.
"Well, my lord," he said after a pause. "It may be that the meaning of her words need guarding, or you're likely to be angered again."
"Just tell me," Edwynn insisted, dropping his hands and leaning forward. "If I did something unseemly, I must know. My lord father won't let me return here if he thinks I've already shamed him, and I still haven't finished what I set out to do."
Micah looked away as another gust stung his eyes. "Young folk meet on the lower step to have... relations," he said finally. "To do so in secret."
Edwynn's eyes narrowed. He took a small step back. "They think I meant to- But that is- Why would they presume that?"
"Figure it out," Micah replied flatly, and turned away. He headed to the White Crossing, a large three story building of bleached stone, and was thankful when the young lord didn't call out to him again. It was strange how something that had never truly existed could taste so much like rejection. He told himself that, told himself that he'd just misjudged, but it didn't draw him out of the gloom that descended heavily.
"Where the bloody hell did you get off to, boy?" Darren exploded as soon as Micah stepped foot into the warmth of the inn.
"Nowhere," Micah said sullenly.
"Nowhere," Darren repeated incredulously, coming around the bar and grabbing Micah by the shoulder. "You best get in that kitchen. Ain't no strumming gonna save you from the washing now. You can think about yer fancy boy while you scald them pots."
His voice carried over the din of voices and the sound of Big Chert awkwardly playing the lute. Several heads turned in Micah's direction, and a young girl with long black curls, another of Edwynn's party, giggled loudly.
A red flush crept up the back of Micah's neck, and he turned away furiously to storm towards the kitchen. Big Chert stood up in a rush. He looked anxious to turn the worn instrument over to Micah.
"Pots," Micah said curtly. "Darren said so."
"Damn you," Chert growled, plopping back down in the chair. He looked ridiculous with his huge, muscular arms cradling the small instrument. His face was red with concentration, and when the raven-haired girl laughed again, Micah wondered whether it was actually better that he was away from the crowd now.
The kitchen smelled of spiced onion soup, beef gravy, and slow roasted mutton. He spied large platters of herbed grebe, and buttered mushrooms as well. Micah's stomach rumbled in response. He snagged a roll from a platter that was still warm, and danced out of the way when Scora swung her spoon at him.
"That ain't for you," the white-haired cook warned him. "I set Lund to plucking them birds all morning for these southerners."
"Auren is hardly south."
"That's what I say about me teats, but old Darren still ain't believing they be as far north as they used to."
Micah laughed despite himself, and rolled up his sleeves. He was thankful at least that the kitchen was warm.
"What'd you do to piss that old bastard off this time?" Scora asked good naturedly, wiping her hand on the stained apron wrapped around her ample belly.
"Nothing that made it worth it."
"Aye."
Micah could feel Scora watching him and he began to stiffly scrub one of the kettles.
"I know your mum is long dead boy, and your pa too, it ain't my place-"
"When has that stopped you?"
Scora put her hands on her wide hips and leaned forward, sticking her nose in his face. "Alright then, I was tryin' to be easy but here it goes. Don't be lettin' that soft pink lordling get you in the same spot of trouble you been in before."
Micah's face felt hot, and he knew it wasn't from the steam. His fingers tightened around the kettle, and he bent over it so far that his nose was practically in the water. "You think you know about it, then?"
"Aye," she said. "Everyone knows what Simmon got you up to before he went off to squire for that ogre of a knight from Freeport."
"He didn't get me to do nothing," Micah snapped, standing upright and glaring. "I was twelve. Nearly grown."
"Pah," she laughed. "You men think you're grown as soon as your peckers learn how to get stiff, but you was a boy and he was a man grown. Now Simmon is away and you be the one left behind with all the Fallen folk thinkin' you a dandy boy."
"Well, maybe I am."
That got him the wooden spoon right in the ear, and he yowled, scrambling back and away from her. "Scora!"
"You is a good looking boy, lad. Isla and Ivy squabble over who is gonna bed you first more often than not. One of them can make you a nice wife one day."
"Just what I want," he said sourly.
Scora threw up her hands in disgust. "You be a damn fool, Micah Magnar."
"Maybe I'm that too," he returned, and went back to his pots.
The night seemed slow, even slower because his mood was so dark. Even switching from the kitchens to the bar didn't help.
The wind roared outside of the inn like a live thing, but none of the Auren party seemed to notice. They were drunk on dark ale and the thick wildwood wine, telling stories of the original fallen men who had settled on the crag, and the old tale of Aeron's demise.
"When his mist creatures swept through the wood and over the Fall," Edwynn was telling the others. He stood in the center of the room with a dented tin goblet in one hand. "They took the animation out of everything. It turned the woods grey, the leaves dark, and it stole the color out of the first fallen men. That's why they all now have hair of ashen, their eyes silver, and they don't need warmth the way other men do."
When Edwynn said the last part he looked up, and his eyes met Micah's. Micah looked away quickly, wiping the scarred counter.
The din in the common room rose louder as the night wore on, and the more dark ale that Micah poured, the more raucous the nobles became. He watched them from the corner of his eye, and noted the differences between them and the lowborn locals.
They drank just as much, and prompted Chert to play the same bawdy songs. They were loud, several of the men were trying their best to grab Isla's rear. The ladies were making eyes at the young men in their party, and surprisingly, at Chert and Micah as well.
Unused to the attention, Micah could feel himself growing red. He focused more intently on keeping the common room tidy. Isla and Ivy thought it funny to try and tempt him, but the women of the Fall all knew he was a waste of their time. It was something most knew. They thankfully were not cruel enough to taunt him, as long as he kept it to himself. Darren and Scora were the only ones who really spoke about it due to a notion that he was their ward.
Micah's eyes rose again, and he noticed the raven-haired girl sitting on Edwynn's lap. Feeling the fool twice over, Micah muttered some excuse to Darren, and went out the back door.
The wind screamed, but he ignored it and wrapped his coarse cloak around him. He walked away from the muffled noise of the White Crossing.
The night was dark, and the moon was noticeably absent from the sky. A fog had also descended at some point, so thick that it was difficult to see ten paces into the distance. Micah found himself looking up, searching for some relief from the darkness and the fog, but the clouds were thick, and not even a hint of starlight could be seen.
It had been that way lately, and the old ones noted it more than anyone. The bright months were never truly this cold, and the gales never blew for this long into the season. The black sky without a storm was a sign of evil, they said. At the moment Micah was hard-pressed to care.
Everyone said he was young yet to be this brooding, but loneliness was not a sentiment that the others understood. The village was small, insular, and more people shared blood than not. There had been a time when Micah had felt like part of their clan, but then his real family had died. Nothing yet had managed to fill the emptiness that they had left behind. Not even Simmon. Especially not Simmon.
And so he brooded, and filled his head with dreams. Of playing music at the Silver Dragon in Meridian, or enrolling at the Warrior's Guild in Freeport, which had birthed some of the most famous knights and cutthroats in history. He filled his days with longing for something more than the Fall, more than the village, more than the White Crossing.
"This fog is fucking hideous."
Micah started, and spun around to see Edwynn stumbling through the trees. His boot caught on a thick upraised root.
"What are you doing here? You could get lost."
Edwynn gave him a withering look, and strode closer after he steadied himself. "Auren is surrounded with forests."
"But not the silverwood," Micah replied, eyes casting around. "It all looks the same here. It's easy to get turned around on a good day, and now there's this fog."
Edwynn's full lips curved into a smile and he walked closer, close enough for Micah to smell the wildwood wine on his breath. Eyes narrowing, Micah took a step back, but found himself against the gnarled bark of one of the grey trees.
"Concerned for me, are you? Such a sweet lad, you are."
Micah looked at the older boy warily, back stiffening. He could feel the warmth of Edwynn's breath as it steamed in the cold air between them. Micah's fingers curled into his palm. He tried to look away, but Edwynn's eyes and lips were close enough to be tempting. It was that which raised a horn of alarm.
"You're being awfully friendly all of a sudden," he observed, his voice steady despite the warmth of arousal that was seeping into him.
Edwynn's smirk widened. He rested one of his hands against the tree as he leaned in further.
"I gave it some thought," he admitted, voice thick with drink. "Here I am, in the village of the Fall, place of the first men of our kingdom and the legends that started it all, the birth of our gods and heroes. Why not fuck a Fallen lad who looks like the very image of Varys the Wise himself?"
Micah's cock stiffened at the words. His mouth went dry, but he forced out a harsh laugh as Edwynn began tracing the line of his jaw.
"You're so far in your cups, I'm surprised your nose ain't red."
"It's true," Edwynn insisted, his voice low. He pressed the smooth pad of his thumb against Micah's lower lip. "You've got that white hair, white as snow, and the silver eyes..."
"Isla's got the same. We all do. You should know, you told the story."
"But Isla isn't built like a walking siege machine," the lordling persisted as he finally pressed his body against Micah's more muscular one. "I wish you could go to Auren and see the statue. Why do you think I picked you to be my guide?"
Micah licked his lips, closing his eyes briefly, trying to ignore the pulsing flesh that was trapped in his pants.
"Pious is having a new meaning now. Does your lord father know you want to fuck your god?"
"Fuck my lord father," Edwynn said, and pressed his mouth against Micah's.
Micah froze as Edwynn's tongue slid into his mouth. He shuddered, eyes shutting. But he didn't move as hands slid up his stomach and chest, shifting the cloak out of the way as the coarse tunic rubbed harshly against his skin.
Edwynn's fingers finished their route at the base of his neck, where they slid into Micah's hair, threading through it almost ponderously as he continued to explore his mouth.
"Do something," Edwynn urged against his lips. He thrust his hips against Micah's. "Don't just stand there like some craven mountain boy."
But what if I am some craven mountain boy? Micah wanted to say as his heart sped up. A groan escaped his mouth when one of Edwynn's hands dropped down again to massage his cock through his pants.
What if you change your mind and name me a seducer? What if you shame me tomorrow when you aren't drunk? What if you're like Simmon?
"I wonder if your cock is as big as the rest of you."
The words were his undoing.
Micah propelled them forward, and slammed the lordling's back against the opposing tree. Edwynn gasped. His face flushed with excitement as Micah latched his mouth onto the exposed skin of his throat. He tasted like sweat and salt, but the sounds of his groans were needy. They pitched higher with each dry thrust, getting louder when Micah began trailing his wet kisses up until he was sucking on an earlobe.
"Oh, yes," Edwynn panted. "Yes."
Somewhere in the back of Micah's mind, the part that wasn't consumed with lust, he wondered absurdly if Edwynn was pretending he was clad in onyx plate armor and carrying a dark blade; Varys the warrior priest born again.
A laugh welled up in Micah's chest and broke the moment.
"What?" Edwynn demanded breathlessly, eyes narrowing. A look of indignation appeared on his smooth face.
"Nothing-"
With his eyes open wider, Micah noticed that in the space of the last few moments the fog had thickened. He backed away slightly, although his hands were still on Edwynn, and looked around as a chill crept down his spine.
"What?" Edwynn demanded again, louder and more impatient. "Come on then."
"Wait," Micah hissed. He tried to shake the feeling that something was wrong.
A light in the distance drew his attention. He stared at it, baffled. Beyond the Fall and into the distance, there was a gash in the clouds that shone through the fog and pierced across the sky. The light was blue and purple, and unlike anything he had ever seen.
"That light..."
"Piss on your light," Edwynn growled, and pulled him close again. "Do not ruin this or I will find someone else who is less easily distracted."
"No," Micah insisted. He grabbed and spun him around by his arm.
Edwynn's eyes fell on the display and his head tilted to the side. His lips were still pressed together and even as his eyebrows lifted curiously, he appeared to lack the concern that Micah had.
"It is merely a strange beacon of some sort, no?"
"There's nothing out there. No one lives on the other side. You with your damned legends should know-"
The light began to glow, until it shone in the sky like an expansive star. It appeared to blink, burning brightly, before twin rays of light flared from its side and everything briefly became muted. There was no wind, no sounds from the silverwood or the village that lay only yards beyond them.
Micah's mouth opened, but no words came. He stared at the sky, and lifted a hand before his face, feeling as though he should be able to touch the fog that had become so thick it appeared tangible. Everything seemed like it was moving slower than normal, dreamlike. But then the light blinked again, and sound came back into the world with a howl.
The shriek that pierced the air was so loud that Micah's ears began to ache. He reached up to cover them. His eyebrows drew together, and he looked at Edwynn again. The young lord's mouth had fallen open, and he stared up at the sky with an expression of dumb shock on his face. The wind picked up and sliced at their clothing as the howling got louder.
In the distance, glass shattered.
Broken from his reverie, Micah grabbed Edwynn, and began dragging him out of the silverwood and to the village.
"What is this?" Edwynn shouted, his hands groping for Micah through the fog.
"I don't know, I don-"
Dark shapes began to melt out of the fog at the same time as screams filled the air. Micah froze, seazed by fear, and felt rooted to the spot even as he made out the roar of Darren's voice and the high, terrified screaming of Isla's.
"I don't, I-"
He realized Edwynn's hands weren't on him anymore.
Micah whipped around. The shapes spread out over the village and slipped into houses, shacks, whooshing through the silverwood and dispersing. There was one near him, near them, but he could see nothing through the fog but for the faint shape of a body, and blank black eyes staring at him.
Micah was pinned to the spot, incapable of moving as the wails of the windswept village soared through the night. He could feel a coldness spreading inside of him as his knees buckled and his vision dimmed. His breath came in shallow pants. The shadow stood before him, and Micah could do nothing but sink bonelessly to the ground.
There was a commotion in the distance. Abruptly, the shadow moved on, but Micah had already fallen. His fingers landed in something wet and warm as they groped at the ground clumsily. He managed to turn his head with effort. That was when he saw him.
Edwynn lay sprawled on the ground as well, but his eyes streamed blood, and his mouth was caught in a soundless scream. His smooth skin had shriveled, and as Micah watched, it continued to do so until it tightened enough to show the clear outline of his skull.
Micah wondered distantly if Edwynn had screamed. He had not heard it, he had not seen-
The howling increased in pitch as a rainless tempest swept in from the sea. It was then that Micah realized the howling was the wind. He tried to hold on to that thought. It seemed significant somehow. But then the world faded away, and he could think nothing.