The Dawn that Rose from Fire

Day Five of Novel November- Alenyah thinks her friend, Berin, is an idiot.

Now standing less than a hundred yards from Berin’s home, Alenyah struggled not to shake with rage. She had been careful not to see or encounter many Stoneborn in the past century. While some would have sought answers to what happened that day, she remembered the tensions that had existed between the two kingdoms before she had ventured on her Rising. She had sat in those council rooms with her mother, faced down the Stoneborn king and his sons. There were no answers left to find that she did not already know.

Forgetting all about muffins and dinner, Alenyah waited for about half an hour as the stars emerged in the dark sky. She could hear laughter within, maybe even the playing of a violin. Finally unable to wait any longer, Alenyah strode up to the front door, gripping the hilt of her sword, and pounded on the door.

Alenyah thought that it was to her credit that she did not punch Berin in the face when he opened the door. His eyes widened, and he looked happy to see her, before her hand fisted in his shirt, and she yanked him out onto the stone steps. The door slammed shut behind him.

“What is this?” She asked, voice low. Berin blinked at her, furrowing his bushy brown brows.

“What is what? My visitors?”

“The Stoneborn you invited into OUR valley,” she hissed. She released his shirt and stepped back, pulling her fingers through her hair. He didn’t understand. Berin wouldn’t unless she told him, and she didn’t think she was ready for that.

The Fey’ri jabbed the finger into his chest.

“We all have lived here in RELATIVE peace and safety for the past hundred years. And that is only, ONLY because we all communicated and worked together to decide what and WHO to allow into the Vale. I come home to see not one but,” Alenyah wracked her brain. She couldn’t remember how many were on the steps. “Multiple people entering your home!”

“I don’t understand,” Berin said. “It’s been peaceful, and look! They’ve even left their weapons out here!” He gestured to the collection of bows, swords, knives all set on the bench or leaned against the walls outside his home.

Alenyah ground her teeth. “And what makes you think that’s all they have, hm? Did you search them?”

“Search them?” Berin barked a laugh. “Alenyah, I invited- why would they- I never would have taken you for someone who is-” He struggled to find the word. “Cloudy headed.”

It was the closest word he could find for someone who despised the race who lived their entire lives often without seeing the sky.

Her eyebrows show up. Oh, he did not.

“Cloudy headed!” Alenyah stepped back off the step and onto the path. She turned away, beginning to breathe heavily and leaned back to look up at the stars. They turned in the sky, unwatching, unfeeling for the turmoil boiling in her chest.

“Why are they here, Berin?” She asked softly.

“I found something. Well, not something, but information. I think it could help you, help me, well, help…all of us.” He sounded so reasonable, even if he was being vague. Still, she did not turn to face him.

Laughter roared from inside his house. At the sound, Alenyah found tears pricking at her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Berin huffed behind her. “Look, why don’t you come inside? You can meet everyone, and I won’t have to explain this repeatedly to everyone.”

Come inside? Everything in her rebelled at the thought.

The front door swung opened with a boom.

“Ah, my lady,” someone said. “I thought I heard your raised voice out here.”

Korith. Alenyah spun. The Fey’ri Elder stood in the lamplight, leaning against the doorframe and smiling. His hair was dark, streaked with silver last she saw him. Now, it seemed winter had settled into his hair, and lines carved deep into his features.

“I thought-” Alenyah swallowed. “I haven’t seen you. You haven’t visited. I thought you were dead.”

Korith shook his head. “You had things well in hand, and once we negotiated the contracts for settling here,” he waved his hand. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why?” Alenyah felt like all she had done since arriving on this porch was ask questions. She still had so few answers.

“Because our problems did not go away when we found safety. And its seems, they are catching up to us.” He stepped back, into the main hall. “Come inside.”

She looked between them, and Berin nodded in encouragement. “Come inside so we can explain.”

Feeling as though she were approaching her doom, Alenyah nodded.

She threw her shoulders back, tipping her chin, ice chips in her eyes. She would go in, listen, perhaps scold and threaten. Then she would leave. Also, Berin and Althea would owe her EXTRA biscuits over the next few weeks to make up for the stress of this moment.

As she started for the entryway, Korith suddenly snapped up his hand, halting her. Berin bumped into her.

“What?”

Korith’s wry smile turned into a frown, and he pointed at the sword still strapped to her belt. She snarled.

“No.”

Berin edged around her, casting a worried eye back towards his guests. She could tell he was realizing how dangerous she could be now that the door was open and she had access to his home.

“We are all safe here.” He touched her shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

Was she?

The humming of the Song and the night around her quieted, waiting for her decision. She closed her eyes and breathed hard through her nose. Then she unbuckled her belt. She reverently set the sword as far away from the other weapons as she possibly could, eyes straying to the dim shape of Valka resting in the dark. The Fylgja would ensure her mother’s sword remained untarnished.

“There had better be food,” she mumbled. Berin nodded and smiled.

“Always.”

The home was cozy, if a little too warm from the large number of people. She heard the scraping of chairs, thunking of mugs in the dining room to her left. Her heart pounded, and she intentionally did not look at the gathered party. She unclipped her cloak and hung it on the coat rack, toeing off her boots and adding them to the pile right inside the door. Althea hated when visitors tracked mud into the home.

“We only just started,” Berin said, gesturing. “If you want to come sit down.”

Instead, Alenyah pushed past him. It wasn’t difficult. Berin was the same height as she, and she certainly was not a tall Fey’ri. She had strength on him. She strode down the hall towards the kitchen. The hallway was papered with maps, colored in with different inks and symbols. Some locations circled because Berin and his wife Laila had wanted to visit. Some places crossed out because the seeping corruption had destroyed them. She passed the study, packed floor to ceiling with tomes, encyclopedias, and atlases.

She smelled roasting meat and tomatoes and groaned. “Althea?”

A pot clattered in the kitchen.

“Ally?” A short Rhea woman, mousy haired with a button nose peeked around the corner. “Alenyaaaah!”

She rushed the Fey’ri, a cloud of flour erupting in her wake and seized Alenyah around the middle.

“Ease off!” Alenyah wheezed, half-laughing despite herself.

Althea stepped back, beaming. “You’re here.”

For a heartbeat, the Song brightened—warm and full of laughter. Then it dimmed again beneath the weight of the strangers beyond the hall.

Her nerves crashed back in a wave, and her breath hitched. Alenyah looked down her nose at Althea.

“Did you know?”

Althea rubbed flour into her face with both hands. “Not till yesterday. Berin thought it polite to give me some warning before springing a crowd on us. He’s been…withdrawn. Writing. Staying up in the study.” She shrugged one flour-dusted shoulder. “I thought he’d gone manic again.”

Manic was Althea’s gentle name for Berin’s grief-driven furies since Laila died. He threw himself into projects to outrun ghosts: irrigation dreams, canal plans, map after map. Usually it burned out. Not this time.

“Are you okay with this?” Alenyah asked. “Say the word if you want them gone. I’ll get rid of them.”

Althea laughed as if Alenyah had just told a joke. The Singer did not smile, staring coldly. After a few chuckles, an awkward silence fell between them.

“What-” Althea licked her lips. “What would you do? Just…” She mimed stabbing someone, and Alenyah struggled not to grin.

“Something like that.”

“No!” Althea gasped.

“My lady?” Korith’s voice carried from down the hall; his patience had limits. Alenyah felt the blood hammer in her ears; her palms slickened.

“Go on,” Althea pushed her gently, leaving a crescent of flour on Alenyah’s sleeve. “We have a roast coming in a moment. Sit. Relax.”

She leaned close, conspiratorial. “And if you want, you can leave after dinner. Then you don’t have to deal with Berin and his schemes.”

Pressure eased infinitesimally in Alenyah’s chest. Stay, eat, leave. Keep the peace. Don’t make a scene. Don’t break what little quiet the Vale gave her. Try not to kill anyone.