Under the Mountain - Part 2

[bad_peppermint]

Masterpost

Adam woke with a start. He blinked upwards, expecting stars and seeing only darkness, and felt a wave of something hot wash down his spine. He had been one of the first to fall asleep last night, and no doubt his friends hadn’t thought to replace the dying candle before they themselves turned in. And now there was nothing, only darkness pressing down on him from all directions. The furs covering him were stifling. Allison’s weight on his arm was crushing, suddenly, her hair trailing over Adam’s skin rubbing on raw nerve.

He pushed her away, ignoring her sleepy call of “Adam, what-?” and stumbled outside into the hall where at least there were torches lighting the way, and he leaned his forehead against the wall and breathed quietly for a moment.

It wasn’t long before there were footsteps inside, and then Monte ducked into the hallway, his sword in his hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Adam said, forcing a smile when Monte didn’t move. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll find us a candle to light.”

Monte nodded, and although he seemed reluctant to return to his bedding, he left Adam to his own devices.

Adam turned so his back was protected at least, felt the solid, cold stone against his sweat soaked shirt and forced himself to relax. It was later than he would have thought, or perhaps earlier - there was some noise, people speaking somewhere, someone clanging with pots, and the uncertainty of where or who they were abruptly had Adam wishing that he was out in the wilderness somewhere, where you could see even in the darkest night and every sound carried for miles.

A few quick footsteps and Adam jumped, hands reaching for a sword that wasn’t at his side, before he forced himself to take another few deep breaths. He couldn’t afford to be this skittish. What if he drew his blade on a child, or worse yet, another warrior who saw it as a challenge? He, more than anyone, had to remain calm. He needed help with this. He needed his friend.

Older than Adam by several years, Cassidy had always been a voice of reason to him. He was a well-spoken, level-headed man whose skill with a needle was known as far as the town at the foot of the mountain, and maybe beyond.Adam had always believed that all that time spent sitting and working had allowed Cassidy to think about everything and anything, giving him time to understand things that always remained just slightly out of Adam’s grasp.

Maybe it was the way that Cassidy pondered their community’s comings and goings with the same importance as he did a request for a new article of clothing that had Adam so at ease. There was no denying that the thought of Cassidy not caring much whether Adam lived or died stung a little, but then the way the man offered him a nod as if they had only spoken yesterday rather than two years ago. It was the first response since his return that made Adam feel as though he were truly still a part of his father’s court.

“Cass,” he said in greeting as he settled himself next to the other man.

“Eva needs a cloak,” Cassidy replied, holding the fabric up to the light so Adam could admire the dark blue color. “That girl is going to freeze to death come winter if I don’t make her something now.”

“I won’t distract you,” Adam promised, but Cassidy just laughed.

“You will,” he said easily. “But perhaps it will keep my mind off the tedium of my work. You had a question.”

Adam startled at the prompt before he remembered that yes, as always, there was something he had wanted to speak to Cassidy about.

“Is this about your brother?” Cassidy continued before Adam had time to elaborate.

“Neil. Yes.” Adam shifted uncertainly. “He seems different.”

“He is different.” Cassidy’s voice carried a hint of disbelief. “Everyone has changed during the time you spent away. You certainly have.”

“I have. I’m ready to be king,” he confessed, quietly. He had no reason to upstage his father, but he could feel that knowledge, that power, pulsing through his veins.

“And yet there are those that would choose Neil before they chose you,” Cassidy interrupted his thoughts.

“Neil is a child.” Adam protested, although yes, perhaps that had been part of what had been on his mind.

Cassidy slowly shook his head from side to side. “Neil is close to you in age. Yes, he still has to go Wandering, but he will not be gone for long. You are honest, brutally so, and you surround yourself with foreigners, while your brother has a tongue that spins every truth into something his listeners want to hear.”

“Neil is a good man,” Adam said heatedly. “He is worthy of allegiance.”

“He is,” Cassidy said, inclining his head. “But how would you know that? You haven’t seen him in over two years, have barely spoken to him since.”

“I know my brother,” Adam insisted.

The other man looked up from the cloak for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Adam, then he sighed. “Either way, the two of you will split the mountain into fractions if you aren’t careful, and a divided mountainis something we cannot afford.”

Adam leaned back against the rock behind him, sighing himself. Cassidy had always known how to make his temper flare, but it was hard to stay angry at someone so calm, so rational. “The mountain is split into fractions over my mother and father,” he said, “and that works out just fine.”

“It’s different with them.” Cassidy held up his needle, allowing the threat to grow taunt before Adam’s eyes. “Your father brought your mother in as a bride - it was clear that they would rule together. You and your brother, however, are rivals.” His gaze flickered over to Adam when Adam snorted.

“You are. You are both contenders for the throne, and as such, you are rivals, whether you mean to be or not.” Cassidy tilted his head, giving Adam a long, thoughtful look that had Adam squirming where he sat before he returned to his stitching. “There are those that will wait for your brother to return instead of pledging their allegiance to you.”

“Neil may never return,” Adam pointed out.

“I know that.” Cassidy snapped the thread with his teeth and pushed the needle through the cuff of his sleeve before he held up the shirt to inspect it closely in the dim light. “But he may return, and there are those who believe that when he does, he will be stronger and faster and wiser than you.”

“It’s possible,” Adam admitted, though from Neil’s stature and attitude, he doubted Neil would ever be a better fighter than he was. “But he’s not due for Wandering for some time yet. It’ll be years before he returns, if he even does.”

“You did,” Cassidy reminded him. He smiled. “Not that I’m not glad you did,” he said, voice teasing in tone, and Adam responded with an uneasy smile of his own.



Later, on his way to the council hall for a bite to eat, Adam found himself confronted with a girl that reached all the way to his hip, gazing up at him with a serious set to her jaw.

“I saw you fight yesterday,” she said.

“Is that so?” Adam asked, and she nodded.

“I want to fight like that.”

“You could practice with someone your age,” Adam said. “Carefully. Find some wooden sticks and strip them.”

The girl shook her head. “Everyone my age is bad at fighting,” she said. “And they cry when I beat them.”

Adam had to chuckle at that, because he remembered well that feeling of utter frustration that not even boys and girls bigger and older than he was proved much of a challenge when sparing, and he gave the girl a nod. “I’ll teach you,” he said. “How good are you with knives?”



Which was precisely how he ended up clutching a hand to his bleeding arm, the blade he had given the little girl lying in the dust between them. The girl herself, Carrie, watched him mouth curses with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry if you’re gonna die,” she said.

Adam laughed. The cut wasn’t particularly serious. It was along the underside of his arm, shallow, would heal quickly but probably scar, nothing more than an unfortunate combination of Carrie flipping the knife in her hand the very moment Adam reached in to correct her grip.

“I didn’t survive two years of Wandering just to die in my very own halls,” Adam assured her. He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Our lessons might have to wait a little, though, if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “Are you sure you’re not going to die?”

“Pretty sure,” Adam said. “Have you ever put in stitches? If not, you’re going to have to get Cassidy for me.”

Carrie wiped the moisture from her eyes. “I can do it,” she said. “As long as you promise not to faint.”



Adam was no stranger to injury, not after two years of feeding himself with money earned by prize fighting and defending himself from robbers and roadside bandits. The pain from the cut was minimal, especially since he had long since learned which herbs sped along the recovery process and which numbed the sensation in his arm, and yet his companions and his people made sure he was left to rest and spared any tasks which would injure his arm further.

It was nice. Adam had little experience with being pampered, and after being gone for so long, he had fully expected a rush of things to catch up with. Instead, he found himself reacquainting himself with his home, catching up with old friends and showing around the new. Tommy even stopped by once or twice, giving Adam a little wave before he disappeared off into the darkness of the corridors, always unwilling to stay.

Neil, however, quickly gave Adam a headache. He’d stopped by to see Adam several times but never hung around when Adam had others with him. The one time he came when Adam was alone, Adam had been about to fall asleep, and Neil had stalked off in a huff when Adam asked him to leave him be.

And now, Adam had all but walked in on his brother and the Queen, Neil insisting that Adam’s injury proved him to be weak, spoiled after his Wandering; unsuitable to be King of the Mountain.

Adam drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders, and stepped forward. “Neil,” he said, and his brother flinched before he, too, tried to stand up straight.

“Adam,” his mother said, and Adam shook his head.

“It’s alright, my Queen,” he said. “I don’t expect him to understand what Wandering really means.”

Neil glared at him. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Neil, you are a child,” Adam said deliberately.

A helpless, humiliated flush spread over his brother’s face, but Adam refused to feel bad about it. There were behaviors that were simply unacceptable for his brother to engage in, and undermining the authority of the future King of the Mountain was one of them.

Neil opened his mouth, but Adam didn’t allow him to protest.“You are a child, and you using a minor injury to spread lies and rumors about me only proves that you are. You think this,” he gestured at his bandaged arm, “makes me weak? Neil, it’s been almost a week since my return, and I have yet to see you hone your fighting skills. The only battles you have engaged in were those of the tongue.”

“Rhetoric is an important skill,” Neil insisted. “Who am I going to kill here?” He spread his arms, encompassing his parents, the council hall, everything. “We are at peace.”

“For now, yes.” Adam let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword, watched Neil’s eyes follow the movement as if he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Adam noticed once again that the belt at Neil’s waist was bare. He had dismissed it as Neil being too young, because try as he might he couldn’t help but think of his little brother as a child, but that of course was a ridiculous assumption. Boys and girls a decade younger than Neil were armed.

Adam tapped two fingers against the sword’s hilt meaningfully, and Neil’s gaze flicked to his face.

“But all that can change in a moment,” he said. “A moment,” he drew the sword from its scabbard, nothing more than a hair’s width with a flick of his finger, but the scrape of metal against metal was loud in the quiet room, “is all it takes.”



“Back so soon?” Cassidy asked. He was still working on the same fabric, thoughit had now taken on the shape of an actual cloak rather than a shapeless length of blue.

“What can I say?” Adam shrugged,then smiled. “It’s been a few days. I couldn’t stand the thought of you weeping at my absence.”

“I weep at your presence,” Cassidy muttered, but he didn’t object when Adam took a seat next to him.

“So, is this what I should expect now?” he asked once he had made himself comfortable. “My brotherbelligerentand my parents’ council tense yet passive?”

“Neil will find his way,” Cassidy said serenely. His eyes flickered upwards, and he smiled. “Give him a little time. You yourself weren’t always so calm and self-assured as you are now.”

“Maybe not,” Adam admitted. “But I always knew where my duties lay.”

“And Neil will learn.” Cassidy’s voice was firm. “If he’s given the chance to prove himself.”

“Others seek out chances,” Adam said. “There was certainly no one patiently waiting for me to prove my worth. I won my followers and friends over through will and effort.”

“You draw people in,” Cassidy said without looking up from his stitching. “You always have.”

“You’ve never pledged yourself to me,” Adam reminded him.

Cassidy turned to face him, abruptly, startling Adam upright. Caught off-guard, he could do nothing but stare as Cassidy took his hand, thumb drawing lightly over Adam’s fingers. “I am pledged to your mother, my Lord,” he said. “But when the time comes, I will avow myself to you.”

“My mother.” Adam laughed helplessly. “My mother has suggested that I attend the market in town.”

“Your mother is a wise woman. There is a reason she has my allegiance.” Cassidy brushed several loose ends of thread from his thighs. “It’s an excellent idea,” he said, when Adam still didn’t speak. “It will give you some distance. Time to think.”

Adam grinned wryly. “Is that all? No insights? No reminder that my brother needs time to grow?”

“Why bother? Your mind is already fixed on the issue.” Cassidy softened his words with a smile. “You want advice? Take Tommy with you. He’s good company, and he loves the market. All those shiny, frilly things. Boy is worse than a magpie.”

Adam scoffed, though the thought of being alone with Tommy for an entire day sent a pleasantly warm shiver down his spine. “So long as his magpie impressiondoesn’t get us in trouble with the locals. We have a bad enough reputation as it is.”

Cassidy lowered his head, but Adam could still see him bite down on a smile. “He’s a good man,” he said. “He won’t do anything to make your life difficult.”

“Not intentionally, maybe,” Adam said. “But you know mountain runners don’t always take things like personal property as seriously as the plains people.”

“And have you ever met a mountain runner who stole?” Cassidy asked with a roll of his eyes. “Wait, no, you haven’t, because Tommy is the only mountain runner you know. And I’m telling you, he’s a good man.”

“Fine,” Adam barked. “I’ll take him. There’s no need to be insulting.”

“You know I’d never insult you,” Cassidy said, smiling sweetly.

Adam rolled his eyes. “I hope you know this is only because I trust your judgment.”



About a quarter of the way into the ride, Adam was seriously beginning to doubt Cassidy’s words - or his sanity. If there was something Tommy wasn’t, it was good company. He barely spoke, even when Adam asked him a direct question, and his answers were monosyllabic to the point of being dull. He kept both hands loosely fisted in his dapple gray’s mane. Adam usually didn’t mind being the one to keep the conversation alive, but he couldn’t help but feel out of his depth around the quiet man.

He tugged lightly on the reins to the third horse, the one intended for sale, when it grew interested in the grass at the side of the path.

At least there were going to be ways for him to occupy his time if Tommy maintained his silence; it had been some time since he had been to the town’s market, but he had learned quite a few things about bartering since then, and he intended to use them. There were things that he was sure he could get for less than was common, so maybe they would be well prepared for the winter this time; less likely to have to ration their supplies as they usually did.The merchants in town would be smug, without a doubt, but they would be willing to give Adam what his people needed.

They could fend for themselves, of course - mountain people were dependent on no one - but there were things which were easier to buy than make: knives and arrow tips, boots, soaps and lotions. It was easier, but Adam could not say that he enjoyed the task. He preferred to be independent, hated having to ask the plains people for anything, even if it was in trade.

“Maybe I should bring Neilback something,” he mused aloud. “To win back his favor.” He hadn’t meant to say something so personal, so private, and regretted it the moment he did, but the words were already out there.

Tommy grinned, hips loosely swinging with the horse’s rhythmic movements. “He has a girl,” he explained, still smirking. “In town. He always volunteers to go so he can see her, but with you here, he couldn’t.”

Adam thought that over, gazing up at the leafy canopy above them. He made it all the way to the seaboard while Wandering, saw the sheer cliffs and the windbattered trees and saw the empty, grassy plains two seasons ride away from there, but he still thought nowhere was as beautiful as the forests surrounding the mountain.

Tommy made a querying noise, and Adam offered him a slow smile.

“My parents must not be pleased,” he said. “A girl from town? She’s neither one of us nor a foreigner, and they despise us.”

“Perhaps so.” Tommy shrugged. “But there’s not much they can do, is there? You know how he is.”

Adam nodded, because he did, indeed. Neil had never been one to adhere to other people’s standards, stubbornly doing whatever he liked, no matter how good or bad it might be for the rest of their people. Neil’s people, because just like Adam he was a Prince of the Mountain, and he was obligated to do whatever he could to help them.

It was an issue he wished he could forget, but once brought to the forefront of his mind it was hard to lay to rest, and Tommy seemed content to let him wallow in his thoughts.

“I just can’t let things stand like this,” he finally burst out, quite a distance later, and his companion turned thoughtful eyes on him.

“You know,” Tommy said, slowly. “Whenever my sister had gotten it into her head that she was cross about something, and a merchant had gotten himself lost in the mountains, I would barter for some sweets. Candied fruits, small sugar rocks, whatever they had.”

Adam, who had rarely heard Tommy mention his family, nudged his horse a little closer. “And that worked?” he asked.

“Every time.” Tommy grinned. “Even when I didn’t even know what she was angry about, she forgave me immediately.”

“Neil likes sweet things,” Adam said. “He always makes sure he gets the darkest strawberries or the smallest apples.”

“Bring him something,” Tommy said. “And then wait with him while he eats it, but don’t ask for a share. It’ll work.”

Adam hummed a reply, already calculating which of his rings or beads he would be able to trade in for a confection. “Any other advice?” he asked. “I’m not sure a candied pear will be enough, in this case.”

Tommy laughed and started talking, not only about how to win a disgruntled sibling’s favor but also about his family in general, about his sister’s love of all things blue and his mother’s terrible singing voice. It was slow at first, but at Adam’s gentle prods, he mentioned his father’s leg that had been difficult ever since a boar attacked him on a hunt, about seeking shelter from a thunderstorm in a cave inhabited by possums, about an avalanche that had once torn away their entire supply of firewood for the winter.

Adam brushed a sympathetic hand over Tommy’s shoulder and almost thought he imagined the way Tommy leaned into it before he grinned and launched into a story of the time a colony of fire ants had decided to move into his family’s home, Tommy’s hand squeezing Adam’s knee for only a moment before it darted away.

Adam was almost a little sad when they finally reached the plains, the town’s strong walls rising up before them. The gates were open and the streets inside packed with people, so Adam had Tommy and himself dismount and walk their horses through the crowd. They passed booths and stands, merchants carrying baskets and others asking visitors into their shops. It was loud, and colorful, but Adam had seen so much now that it seemed not half as magnificent as it used to.

“Do you need me for this?” Tommy asked when Adam hesitated in front of a woman selling spices, he himself turning his head to follow a man walking away with a crate full of colored beads under his arm.

Adam didn’t need Tommy’s help, he could manage just fine on his own, but even if he couldn’t, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the other man stay at his side when his mind was so obviously on other things.

“Go ahead,” he said, giving Tommy’s shoulder a little push.

The other man certainly didn’t need telling twice, patting the grey on the flank before trotting after the man with the beads with the determination of a woman with her sight fixed on the last eligible bachelor.

Shaking his head, Adam pushed through the throngs of people, leading all threehorses towards the livestock section of the market. He traded the young mare for two short swords, an axe and a bundle of coins that meant nothing to him but would help him make the other purchases he needed to before he returned home. Not everyone was willing to cut deals with mountain people, especially if they were bartering goods, not money, but the coin purse from the sale of the horse was heavy against his thigh and even the most reluctant of merchants was willing to open his doors once he heard the clink of Adam’s coins.

When the sun began to dip down towards the rooftops, Adam started looking around for Tommy. They were far from the mountain, and the way back was a steady uphill climb. They would have to leave soon if they wanted to return home before nightfall turned the path treacherous and deadly.

It took him a while to find the other man. Pale hair like Tommy’s was not as rare here as it was on the mountain and the market was decently sized, drawing people from far reaching areas. When he finally did find the other man, however, it was not at a stand for dyed glass or feathered hats the way he had expected - instead, Tommy lounged at a woodcarver’s stand, several paces away from a large bale of hay with a target drawnupon it where men and women could shoot arrows for sport, ignoring the crowd that had gathered at the barrier. A sour-faced man, perhaps a merchant stood watch beside a small table that held three small clay pots, tightly sealed. The woodcarver herself, a woman Adam vaguely remembered from his last time at the market, pushed aside several of her bows and finally returned with one, a frown forming between her brows.

“This is the smallest one I have,” she said apologetically, but Tommy took the bow anyway, shrugging her off.

Adam tied the two horses to the barrier and swung himself over it, landing lightly next to Tommy. “What’s going on here?” he asked, sliding his arm around the man’s waist.

The shorter man glanced up at him and, grinning, relaxed into his hold. “This gentleman doesn’t believe I can sink two out of three arrows into the blue,” he said.

Not for the first time, Adam found himself wondering how good of an archer Tommy really was. Adam knew he was often asked to go hunting, that the other hunters among his people liked to have him along, but none of that justified the calm, confident tone in Tommy’s voice.

“What’s the wager?” he asked.

Tommy tilted his head at a small stool on which sat three clay containers, each one small enough to fit in Adam’s palm. “Those, or a day’s worth of labor,” he said, as though what he had just announced was not a brazen, idiotic bargain.

“A day’s worth of labor?” Adam hissed. “And just how do you think that we could pay our debt?”

“We won’t have to,” Tommy replied, collected and cool. There was not a hint of pride or boasting - he appeared to truly believe that there was no way they would lose.

Still - there were ways to lessen the risks. Adam gestured at the bow lashed to Tommy’s saddle, because every fighter was most comfortable with his own weapon, but Tommy shook his head.

“I can shoot with this,” he said, nodding his chin at the weapon in his hands.

“Now you’re just being foolish,” the merchant cut in, falling silent again when both Adam and Tommy regarded him with quelling looks.

“Are you?” Adam asked nonetheless. “Would you risk less if you shot your own bow?”

Tommy scoffed. “Not here,” he said. He gestured around the courtyard with the tip of the boy; the woodcarver, the merchant, the small crowd of curious on-lookers. “There is no risk here.” He tipped his chin upwards when he met Adam’s gaze. “Not like this.”

“If you insist,” Adam said.

Tommy grinned at him, a flash of teeth before it was gone. He held the bow before him and pulled string and arrow back with an easy, confident movement. “Last chance to change your wager,” he said, speaking to the merchant without even meeting his eye. When silence was the only reply, he clucked his tongue. “Your loss,” he said, and let the arrow fly.

Adam knew it had hit its mark before he heard the on-lookers gasp. The woodcarver’s expression cleared to the same degree that the merchant’s darkened, but Tommy seemed to feel no need to stop and gloat. He let a second arrow fly, hitting the mark as well, then sank an unnecessary third just slightly upwards and to the left, neatly piercing the line between the inner circle and the ring around it.

The crowd let out a few cheers and whistles, but Adam couldn’t help but think that they had wanted the mountain runner to lose, or maybe they had merely anticipated a little more thrill. Within a few moments, most of the onlookers had blended into the late crowd. The merchant turned away, scowling, and Tommy turned to Adam, rocking up on his toes with an expectant smile.

“Now will you tell me what the wager was for?” Adam asked.

Grinning, Tommy handed the woodcarver back her bow, picked up one of the containers He twisted the top off of one bowl with an easy, practiced movement and offered it up for Adam to see; the inside was a dark, murky paste that had Adam frowning, taken aback.

The other man dipped one finger into the container and dragged it over his lower lip, staining the skin there a dark, leafy green.

“It’s ink,” he said. “Like the color with which you line your eyes. I think it’s beautiful.”

Adam barely managed a nod. He was still staring at Tommy’s lip, at the color there. He’d seen dark red color staining the lips of women down at the edge of the desert, far, far away from here, but he’d never thought that he would find something like that right here, just a short ride away from his home.

“Time to go home, son,” the woodcarver cut in, meaning Tommy. She collected the other two jars and pressed them into Tommy’s hands, who took them reverently, and nodded her head at Adam. “You better leave, before he,” the merchant, “decides he’d like recompense anyway.”

The last spectators had dispersed by now and it was no hardship to untie their horses and lead them towards the town’s gates. Tommy followed slowly, still entranced by his inks, opening and reopening pots to peer at and dip his fingers into the vivid colors.

Adam slowed his steps, waiting for him to catch up. “They are beautiful,” he admitted. “But a day’s worth of labor?We’re barely going to make it back before dark as it is.”

Tommy merely grinned, unrepentant. He ducked his eyes behind his hair and leaned against Adam’s side, and Adam, after a startled moment, tucked his arm around Tommy’s waist and bit back a smile.



They reached the mountain with the last rays of light, riding hard for over an hour. A part of Adam wanted to be angry about it, to focus on the dangers of travelling at night, but it was exhilarating, too, the wind whipping through his hair while the sun sank lower and lower.

One of the guards, a girl called Alicia, stood waiting at the end of the tunnel to take the horses and purchases from them.

“How was town?” she asked, and “Were there many travellers?” and “Did you see any strange animals?”

Distracted by her questions, Adam took his time unsaddling his horse, and he looked up when Tommy moved past him, brushing his hand along the small of Adam’s back.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, but Tommy simply smiled and didn’t stop walking.

Adam lifted the saddle off his horse and reached for a handful of straw to quickly rub it down, Alicia prattling on on the horse’s other side, but he wasn’t particularly surprised when Tommy had disappeared by the time Adam had delivered their purchases and the few leftover coins.

Neil looked startled when Adam confronted him in the council hall, but his wide-eyed look was quickly replaced by delight when Adam unwrapped the confection he’d bought him.

“Thank you,” he crowed, pushing a piece into his mouth. He hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Adam nodded. “I’m sorry you couldn’t see your girl,” he said, and Neil flushed a deep, dark red, but he nodded.

“You want some?” he asked, holding out the piece he’d broken off like an offering.

Adam took it, careful to keep it from crumbling, and slipped it into his mouth. It was good, great even, and his grin grew even wider at the sticky-pleased one Neil gave him in return.



Their newfound camaraderie lasted all of a day. Then Adam found a few brightly colored feathers in his pack that, while beautiful, were certainly not his, and when he set out to return them to Tommy, came across his brother instead.

“I’m looking for Tommy,” he said.

Neil rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Adam cut him a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Neil said, picking himself up off the ground. “You just seem to be very interested in everything he does, considering the two of you have just met.” He pulled on his shirt so violently that Adam could hear the seam tearing. Cassidy would be pissed.

“I haven’t seen him.” Neil glared at him. “He disappears sometimes. I’m sure he’ll pop back up sooner or later.”

He stalked away, leaving Adam staring after him with nothing left to say. How could this moody, aggressive little brat be the brother he had left behind?



Adam eventually didn’t so much find Tommy as he nearly tripped over him out in the enclosed garden, lying supine in the grass, eyes fixed firmly on the stars above them.

“Sorry,” Tommy said, pulling his legs up in what Adam thought might have been an attempt to let him pass through.

“Where have you been all day?” Adam asked, careful to keep any accusation out of his tone. It wasn’t any of his business where Tommy spent his days. Not yet.

Tommy lifted one hand into the air and waggled it from side to side before he let it flop back into the grass. “Around,” he said. He didn’t protest when Adam sat down next him, legs crossed underneath him, and Adam took that as permission to stay.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “I just had to get away for a bit. It’s so busy here.” He rubbed his arms in an almost absentminded way, like it was from habit more than actual chill. “There’s always someone doing something. Always people. And even when they’re nowhere near you, the echoes still make it sound like they’re practically breathing down your neck.”

He ran his hands over his skin again, more determinedly this time. When Adam lay down and reached over to tug him closer, he didn’t resist, fell heavily against Adam’s side.

“I thought mountain runners lived in close quarters, like us.”

Tommy didn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps when we seek shelter for the night, yes. But when we step outside with the rising sun, we are alone.” He reached out to tug at a loose thread at the seam of Adam’s pants. “My sister and I roamed the forest together when we could barely walk.”

Adam ran his hand through Tommy’s hair. “I get it, if that helps,” he said after a moment. “Having to get away for a little while.”

Tommy chewed on his lower lip for a while. “It does, funnily enough,” he finally said. He rolled over, curling himself into Adam’s side, and Adam was not about to protest.



Tommy didn’t protest when Adam suggested they head inside a little while later, just sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

“Can’t have you catching cold, after all,” Adam said.

The other man shrugged. “I’m alright,” he said. “I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes.”

He remained clingy all the way back inside, not that Adam minded, even when Adam remembered why he had gone looking for Tommy in the first place.

“Yes, those are mine,” Tommy said, pressing against Adam’s side. “Thank you.”

“So you did find him,” Neil interrupted, emerging from one of their storage rooms with a carafe in each hand. He bared his teeth at Tommy. “Were you doing anything productive, or was it just business as usual?”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. “Excuse me,” he murmured, pushing away from Adam and disappearing around a corner.

“He’s a little fragile, don’t you think?” Neil commented.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Neil, go to bed,” he said, and he didn’t wait for his brother’s reply before he turned and did the same.



Adam didn’t see Tommy again that evening. There wasn’t anything to be worried about, he knew that. Tommy was a man, a hunter, and in all likelihood older than Adam was. Still, it made him restless, fidgety. He met Allison’s frown with a reassuring smile when they bedded down for the night, but when he awoke some time later, twitchy and uncertain, he pushed aside the furs and beddings and went to take a look.

Maybe it was later than he thought, and Tommy no longer thought anyone was coming for him, or maybe he was simply abysmal at hiding. Either way, Adam had tracked him down within minutes, simply by following the trail of heat and warm cooking into the council hall.

The hall itself was warm, warmer than the corridors at least, but it was nearly empty. Two women, one of them a guard Adam recognized, sat huddled by the fire, too absorbed in their conversation to pay him much mind.

Across the cavern, in the hall’s darkest corner, sat a huddled figure that had little in common with the proud, confident man Adam had chided at the market. A cloak was slung around his shoulders and pulled up over his knees, protecting him from the draft of cold night air that steadily crept through the cavern. He stiffened when he saw Adam but didn’t move away, and Adam saw it as an invitation to settle on his haunches in front of the other man and drape his forearms over Tommy’s knees.

“I hope you realize,” he said conversationally, “that Neil is an idiot.”

Tommy reluctantly raised bleary eyes to meet his and frowned.

“Well.” Adam opened his hands, palms facing upwards. “He may be my brother, and a Prince of the Mountain, but he’s yet to go Wandering. He knows nothing beyond these borders, and if he doesn’t learn to keep his mouth shut, he may get himself killed before he has the opportunity to learn.”

“I don’t know why I always let him get to me,” Tommy said. “It’s not like it was the first time.” He sounded hoarse, and Adam really hoped he wasn’t getting sick. It wasn’t a good thing to be on the mountain.

“It happens to the best of us.” Adam grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Tommy said, and Adam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Please do,” he said. “Neil could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.”

Tommy grimaced, obviously unwilling to agree with Adam’s disrespectful words, but not willing to lie for Neil’s sake, either. A moment later he began to cough, muting the sound in the crook of his elbow, and Adam felt a steep line form between his brows.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Tommy stifled another cough. “Cold, that’s all.”

Adam looked around, hoping for another blanket to lie around Tommy’s shoulder, and instead caught sight of the two women by the hearth. Their murmurs were too soft to make out, but whatever was simmering along in the pot above the fire smelled delicious, and there were few things as soothing to a chilled body as a steaming broth.

A few words, a smile, and Adam brought Tommy back a mug full of liquid, keeping both eyes on it as he walked to keep it from sloshing over the side. He had to put it into Tommy’s hands himself, fold open his fingers and mold them around the container, but once his skin touched the warm clay, Tommy seemed to startle into awareness.

“Thank you,” he murmured. He took a short sip, then a longer, deeper one, and smiled a little. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me,” he said.

“Maybe I want to.”

When Tommy turned too-large eyes to him, blinking in surprise, Adam shook his head.

“Drink,” he said, watching as Tommy obeyed.

He took the container from the other man’s fingers and set it down on the ground next to them. “Come with me,” he said, rising to his feet without letting go of Tommy’s hand, forcing the other man to contort himself upwards. He hardly gave the man time to collect himself before he tugged him away, Tommy clutching at his cloak to keep it on his shoulders, stumbling behind him in the darkness.

Tommy’s breath hitched a little when he recognized where he was being lead, when Adam carefully directed him to step over Allison’s curled up form and held him still before he accidentally trod on Monte’s hand.

Adam drew Tommy down with him, barely allowing him to lay down on his side and sling an arm around Adam’s middle from behind before he pulled the covers over them both. Allison murmured and shifted backwards, into Adam’s warmth, and a moment later, Adam felt Tommy’s hot breath between his shoulder blades as the other man molded himself against Adam’s body.

“Sleep well,” Adam whispered in the candle’s faint golden glow.

Tommy’s hand tightened against his stomach in response, and Adam allowed himself a small smile when he let his eyes flutter shut.



Adam expected the next day to be odd, for his foreign friends to feel abandoned perhaps, or his family to comment on the fact that Tommy was, so obviously, a man, but the morning was calm and pleasant. Isaac rolled his eyes when Adam met his gaze after waking, Tommy’s arm still firmly around his waist. Monte ran the pad of his thumb over one of Tommy’s knives and declared it needed sharpening. Allison grinned and asked Tommy about his hair.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Neil still glowered, but Adam didn’t care so much anymore. Cassidy still gave biting advice, but Adam remained serene. Adam saw happiness wherever he looked, but the world kept on fighting.

It was normal under the mountain, of course. So many people living in such an enclosed space naturally led to arguments, and as violent a people as they were, fighting was, if not necessary, then nevertheless encouraged.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t uncomfortable when he and Tommy came across two children on top of another, smaller boy in the hallway, but he didn’t step in. The losing boy needed to learn to defend himself. He had to grow strong if he ever hoped to survive on the mountain.

Of course Tommy had other ideas. “Stop it, the both of you,” he snapped, pulling one child away with each hand. “You’ve proved your point. Now leave it be.”

They stepped back reluctantly, watching with keen eyes while the third boy struggled to his feet.

“I’ll get you,” he hissed, futilely, and it was no surprise when the other children laughed.

“I’m so scared now,” the girl said.

The boy at her side nudged her shoulder, but he still addressed the smaller one. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re such a good fighter. I’m quaking in my boots, Foreigner.”

“That’s enough,” Adam said, stepping forward. “Beat it, you two.”

The two children were gone within moments, hasty steps echoing along the corridors.

Adam looked down at the boy left behind. His collar was torn and there was a bruise forming green and large over his cheekbone. His eyes shone with tears but he let none of them fall, instead wiping at his nose with his sleeve.

Tommy crouched on the floor before him, gave him a little smile. “Are you alright?” he asked.

The boy nodded, running his sleeve over his eyes this time.

Adam shook his head. This child was too small to be running around with no one here to so much as watch him. “Where is your mother?” he asked.

“I’m too old to be under her supervision,” the boy snapped.

Adam peered at him. Looking closely, he had to admit that he had the face of an older boy, one who would be learning to hunt and to trade. But he was so small.

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked before Adam could voice any of his thoughts.

“Dale,” the boy said.

Adam furrowed his brow. The only Dale he recalled was Mara’s boy, but he would have to be close to eleven, twelve years now, and this one had the stature of one who was seven or eight, at most.

Tommy reached out, brushed a hair from the boy’s forehead and didn’t seem to care when Dale jerked away. “Well, Dale, I’m Tommy, and I’m in the mood to tell a story. Would you like to hear one?”

Dale edged a little closer, though he kept his torso twisted away. “Why don’t you tell one to Prince Adam?” he asked.

Tommy cast a look at Adam over his shoulder and grinned. “Adam wants to hear it, too,” he said. “Don’t you, Adam?”

Put like that, it wasn’t like Adam could truly refuse. He glowered at Tommy for a moment before making himself at home, spreading his cloak for them to sit on. Tommy took a seat on a raised portion of stone, facing them both, and began:

“Long, long ago, when the mountain was still young and the sun not yet tired of her journey, there lived a beautiful woman named Ilaina.”

Tommy glanced down at the boy and grinned. “Ilaina was the most beautiful woman in the mountain’s shadow. In fact, if you climbed to the top of the mountain on a clear and sunny day and searched as far as the eye could see, you would not have been able to find a woman more beautiful than Ilaina. No one could or ever would compare to her beauty.”

Adam frowned and kicked at Tommy’s ankle.

The other man winked at him before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “She was the most beautiful woman there was, but she also had a good heart, and she was in love with a man called Nior who was not as beautiful, but had just as good a soul.”

There were footsteps clambering along the corridor, and Adam turned to face the direction it was coming from, rising onto one knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy finger the knife at his belt, one hand resting on Dale’s shoulder to push him to safety if need be. Dale of course lifted his fists as well, not that Adam had much confidence in his ability to protect himself. But he was a child of the mountain, after all.

They stood, poised, waiting, but the figure that finally came into view was only Elia, Sasha’s son, with his little sister in tow. He was only six, as far as Adam knew, and already several inches taller than Dale, but when he saw the scene before him he nevertheless burst into a grin.

“Prince Adam,” he beamed, and Adam blinked. He hadn’t thought the boy even knew his name.

“What are you doing?” Elia pressed. Lianne, his sister, clung to his leg, and he dragged her forward.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s eager expression. “Well, Tommy here was just telling Dale and me a story,” he said, gesturing at the man in question.

“A story?”Elia rounded on Tommy in delight. “Can we hear, too?”

“Of course,” Tommy said despite Dale’s scowl. He nodded at the fabric beneath his feet. “Here. Come sit.”

The boy did, eagerly, drawing his knees to his chest and gazing up at Tommy expectantly. Lianne climbed into Adam’s lap instead, a decision which made Dale roll his eyes once more and Tommy snicker quietly, but she, too, only had eyes for Tommy.

“Like I said,” Tommy continued, voice deepening once more, “Ilaina was a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, and her chosen companion was the good, hardworking Nior. But while Nior was a good man, who worked hard for his keep and always respected the laws and other people’s property, he was also not a rich man, and Ilaina’s parents knew how beautiful she was. They wanted power more than anything, and if Ilaina married Nior, they would have neither a daughter nor any money or power to satisfy them.”

“But what’s the money for?” Elia interrupted.

Dale, unnoticed, rolled his eyes yet again, flushing when Adam frowned at him.

“Everybody knows money doesn’t buy anything on the mountain,” the younger boy insisted.

“It doesn’t, no,” Tommy admitted. “But Ilaina wasn’t from the mountain. In fact, nobody lived on the mountain at the time.” He smiled when Elia wrinkled his nose at the concept. “Ilaina was one of the plains people, and down in the towns and villages, money can buy a lot.

“So Ilaina’s parents arranged for her to marry a rich merchant.Ilaina was heartbroken, because she was a good daughter and wanted to make her parents happy, but she loved Nior and knew she could never be with anyone else. When she told Nior what had happened, he was as distraught as she, and the two lovers devised a plan: They would run away together, far away, where no one knew them, where no one cared that they were poor as long as they were happy together.

“But of course, as these things go, it was not that easy.Ilaina’s parents caught her trying to sneak out of the house and they alerted the merchant. She ran, Nior at her side, away into the dark forest, but the merchant sent horses after them.When Nior fell and twisted his ankle, Ilaina knew they needed help. So she fell to her knees and she prayed for the spirits to save them, to keep them from the rich merchant’s clutches forever. And the spirits did.”

He looked over at Adam, eyes dark, solemn. “The spirits turned them into trees,” he said. “Two tall, strong trees, growing side by side, branches just short of touching one another. And it worked. The rich merchant searched the forest for a long, long time, stomped around the two trees, sat in their shade, but in the end he had to admit defeat and return home. And Ilaina and Nior remained there, two trees, side by side. Together, yet separated forever.”

The two boys looked suitably solemn at that, but Adam could hardly suppress a shudder. That particular story had given him nightmares as a child; the thought of being so close to a loved one and yet forever parted still sometimes sent shivers down his spine.

But Tommy, it seemed, knew a different story than he did.

“Many, many years after Ilaina and Nior became part of the forest, when they had all but forgotten what it felt like to be human, there lived a man named Calden. Now Calden, he was a thief.”

“A thief?”Elia echoed with wide eyes.

Tommy grinned at him. “Yes, a thief. But Calden wasn’t a bad man, you see. He was poor and his young wife was with child, and he had asked everyone he knew for just a day’s labor so he could bring his family some food. But no one had work for him, because times were hard and men and women were so terrified of losing what little they had that they kept it from everyone else, hid it away from prying eyes, lied to their friends and condemned them to the very fate they were so afraid to meet.”

Tommy looked around, at the three - four, if Adam counted himself - pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Lianne snuck her finger into her mouth and leaned more heavily against Adam’s arm, smacking her lips around the digit. Her mother would no doubt scold her for it, but Adam was loathe to disturb the comfortable mood.

“So Calden,” Tommy continued, “our hero, was forced to become a thief. One day, in desperation, he hid a loaf of bread in the folds of his clothing. He thought for sure he would be caught, his heart hammering so loud he thought the birds down by the creak would startle and fly away. But do you know what happened?”

He leaned forward, almost nose-to-nose with Dave and Elia, neither of which so much as blinked.

Lianne managed a little querying noise, her eyes drooping shut, body melting against Adam’s chest.

Tommy winked at the two boys. “Nothing,” he said. “No one saw him, or said anything, and when Calden brought home the loaf of bread, his wife was so overjoyed that he did it again. He took some apples from the farmer, some cheese, he kept a copper coin that someone dropped between the market stalls. He and his wife could eat, even spare a little to save for the ever-looming winter, and their life was good.”

Adam couldn’t suppress a small noise of disapproval at that.

Tommy shot him a look that was clearly annoyed, but his story continued uninterrupted.

“But no such luck could last, as no luck ever does. Before long, Calden was spotted sliding beautiful yellow pears into his cloak and he had to run. He knew the penalty for stealing was severe, so he, tears in his eyes, had to collect his wife at home and the two fled with barely the clothes on their backs. They hurried as fast as they could, but Calden’s wife was pregnant and the guards had horses, and they were closing in fast.”

Both boys shuffled in closer, eyes fixed on Tommy’s face. Even Lianne gripped Adam’s sleeve a little tighter, although Adam was sure she was too young to really understand what they were saying.

“Calden,” Tommy went on, “Calden cried out to the wind and the trees for help, and what trees should they stand under but our enchanted lovers? And Ilaina and Nior, they understood the lovers’ grief. They remembered their own, you see, at not being able to be with one another, and while their memories of their human lives were little more than shadows now, they could still remember the pain that they had felt at being separated. So they bowed down their branches for Calden and his wife to climb into and lifted them high, high into the air, so high the farmers and the guards didn’t even think to look for them. And there they stayed for long, long days, afraid to climb back down for fear that they would still be caught. They were too far away to touch each other, and at night it was so dark they could barely see their own feet, so they sang to each other, quietly, so quietly even the birds mistook it for nothing more than wind. And there they stayed for four days and nights while the guards searched the forest floor below them, with nothing to eat and nothing to drink but dew drops in the morning, until it was safe for them to climb back down.”

“Four days?” Dale cut in, too caught up in the story to care about posturing, and Tommy nodded.

“Four days,” he said. “But finally the guards gave up their search and they were safe, and Ilaina and Nior lowered them gently to the ground. And Calden and his wife, they climbed high into the mountains, so high no one would ever be able to find them, and there they had a daughter, and then a boy, and they vowed never to return to the world that had treated them so harshly, and to cherish the gift that Ilaina and Nior had given them.”

Elia cheered at that, and even Dale joined in before he remembered himself.

“I have to go,” he said, climbing to his feet. He cut a glance at Adam. “Thank you for the story, Tommy,” he said.

Elia agreed even as he lifted his sleeping sister out of Adam’s arms and slung her over his shoulder, and when Tommy dismissed them with a smile, they wandered away, Dale taking care to stay away from the younger boy. No doubt it would not do for them to be seen as friends.

“What did you think?” Tommy asked, turning to Adam, who shook his head even as he bent down to retrieve his cloak.

“I think that entire last part stems from your imagination.”

Tommy laughed at that. “The stories we tell on the mountain are a little different from the ones you tell below.”

“I gathered that.”

Tommy peered over his shoulder at Adam’s tone, a small frown forming between his brows. “You disagree with my story, then?”

Adam pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I should allow you to teach our children that stealing is acceptable.”

Tommy leaned his head against Adam’s shoulder and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what the story is about,” he said. “It doesn’t say that stealing is acceptable. It merely says that sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

There wasn’t much Adam could say to that, not knowing what he did, so he fitted his arm around Tommy’s waist and gave it a light tug. “It must be time for midday meal if the little ones are getting sleepy.”

“I imagine.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair, strands falling in disarray in its wake. “I promised Sasha I would join her on her hunt,” he said. But he didn’t move away, just stood there, breathing Adam’s air, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes.

“Promise me you’ll return safely, then,” he said, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. “I imagine Dale would be quite heartbroken if he didn’t get to hear at least one more story.”

Tommy smiled a little. “Yes, I imagine he would be.”

He still didn’t move away, and Adam reached up and tweaked his nose. “No wonder he likes you. You’re barely taller than he is.”

Quick as a wildcat, Tommy smacked Adam’s arm. “I’m leaving,” he said with a haughty tone that did not disguise the laughter in his voice, and Adam watched him stride away, gracefully, fluidly, his mind on wicked things.

He was about to follow the other man down the corridor, find something to occupy his mind with for a time, when a clear, high voice called, “My Lord Adam.”

It was Dale, chest heaving with exertion, yet his face a mask of determination. Before Adam could react, the boy had fallen to his knees and pressed a kiss to Adam’s knuckles. “I pledge my allegiance, my Lord,” he said, quick and breathless, clutching Adam’s hand in his as though afraid Adam might try to snatch it away.

Which Adam did, though slowly, carefully. He appreciated the offer, but there was no way he could have a child, especially one as helpless as this one, among his advisors. “Dale,” he said, and the boy’s face crumpled, though it remained dry.

Adam tried on a smile. “You’re young, still. You don’t have to pledge allegiance for many years.”

The boy’s face fell, though he was quick to hide his feelings behind a nod and pained smile. He gestured behind himself, and Adam let him go with a nod, watched him take quick, short strides far, far away from the scene of his humiliation.

“Dale,” he called, and the boy turned back, a hopeful smile intruding on his downcast expression.

“I will gladly accept in a few years’ time,” he said, and the boy nodded, contentment and disappointment on his face in equal measures.

“Thank you, my Lord Adam,” he said, stiffly, formally, and ran down the corridor without even waiting for Adam to dismiss him.



Part 3