“Certainly. But I must emphasize that all we’ve told you is a secret sealed by magic. To reveal anything here may cause your untimely death — something I suspect you don’t want to risk so soon after your brother’s efforts.”
Lawen stood up, schooling his face. As the other two men followed suit, Lawen caught Traycen ren Lotelon’s eye. “Your daughter is very worried about Gwynter. You might give her some peace of mind.”
The man’s eyes hardened. “I’ll give her peace of mind only when I feel it’s appropriate. In the meantime, patience is a lesson it’s about time she learned. This way, please.” He moved toward a door on the far end of the room.
The man’s attitude now stood in contrast with how he treated his family at Keep Lotelon. Lawen had suspected from Traycen’s smiles, and the gifts he brought home every chance he got, that he spoiled his daughter. Was that a show? Or was this the performance?
Now Lawen understood why there had been no repercussions for Nathaera, despite her involvement in Gwyn’s quest.
The door opened to a small stone chamber furnished by a single chair. There Gwyn sat, head bowed, wrists bound.
Lawen resisted the urge to run to his side, to gather him in his arms. He planted himself beside Cadogan instead, studying the bruises and welts along Gwyn’s exposed arms. He wore a sleeveless gray tunic, tied at the waist by a cord, opened at the chest to reveal more abrasions and welts.
Lawen’s blood turned to ice. He glared at Traycen ren Lotelon. “Is torture part of his training, sir?”
“Not usually, but in Gwynter’s case it has been crucial.”
Lawen curled his hands into fists and worked air through his lungs. He must keep his temper or risk his brother’s life. He turned back to Gwyn and found the boy’s head raised, grey eyes pinned on Lawen. A broad smile spread over Gwyn’s lips. Relief washed through Lawen like a breath of spring wind, melting the ice in his blood. Gwyn’s body was bruised and battered, but his mind hadn’t shattered.
Lord Traycen motioned Lawen forward. “He’s been waiting for you.”
Lawen reached Gwyn in a few bounding steps. He knelt before his brother, caught his arms where the bruising looked slight, and they searched each other’s eyes.
“Hello, Lawen,” Gwyn whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
Tears pricked Lawen’s eyes. He ran a hand over Gwyn’s loose hair, trying to swallow back his emotions. “I’ve been so scared for you, Gwynny. You’re so thin. Are you eating?”
Gwyn bobbed a nod, but beneath Lawen’s fingers his body trembled.
Lawen pulled Gwyn into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
He felt Gwyn’s head shake against his shoulder. “It’s not. How could it be? You would have done the same for me.”
Lawen clung tighter. It was true; they both knew it. To save the other, each would travel to the very ends of the world. He pulled back, turned his head toward the two men at the door, and speared Lord Traycen with a look. “What becomes of him now, sir?”
“He will swear fealty to the Crow King as the newest member of the Order of Corvus. Just in time, I might add. Fraelin invades our lands this moment.”
The brothers exchanged a look. Lawen read the fear in Gwyn’s eyes, but also his determination; that strange fire that always burned there. It always had, even in the first moment Lawen saw him as a quiet newborn in Lady Mair’s arms. There was something remarkable about Gwynter. Something inborn. He could lose his temper as other people; could make bad judgment calls; could follow a foolish impulse. But he was special; Lawen would swear to that on his very soul. His little brother belonged to a kind of otherworldly caste. His saw things others couldn’t.
Would Gwyn now step into his destiny? Or had the Crow King done all this to bind him, shackling his potential? A few months ago, Lawen had come to realize the depths of the corruption in Crowwell, and that the king himself oversaw it. But what could anyone do to stop him? Did he fear Gwyn’s latent talents?
Why not kill him then? Does he intend to use Gwyn for his foul purposes?
Gwyn rose from his chair, and Lawen followed him to his feet. The brothers stood facing General Cadogan and Lord Traycen.
“You’ll swear fealty to king and country at dawn tomorrow,” Traycen said. “Three days hence, the Order of Corvus marches with General Cadogan’s regiment for the North Marches on the edge of Siaan Wood. There we will meet the Fraeli forces in combat. As you’re already aware, they have Ilidreth allies in their company. Be ready.”
Lawen clapped his hand to his chest in salute. “Will Gwyn be permitted to leave the castle in the meantime?”
“No,” answered Traycen. “He must finish his training, and until his loyalties are proved, he’ll be under constant watch. You’ll see your brother again in a few days, Lieutenant. You’re free to say goodbye.”
Lawen clenched his jaw and turned to Gwyn, urging his anger to roll away. Looking into the eyes of his younger brother, Lawen could dismiss the present company and his frustration. He rested his hand on Gwyn’s arm.
“You don’t need me to tell you this but be strong. I’ll see you soon.”
Gwyn smiled, eyes ablaze with the firestorm that never extinguished. “Take care of yourself.”
As Lawen walked down the castle corridor beside General Cadogan, his heart hung heavy as his chest tightened.
“You ought to thank me,” Cadogan said. “Were it not for my petition on your behalf, you would not be coming with me into battle beside your brother. The Crow King worries about your influence over the boy. His allegiance to his king must come first, even above his family. Such is the way of Corvus.”
Lawen’s brow furrowed and he stared at the flagstones before him. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t take that tone, Lieutenant. You’re lucky not to have been burned at the stake yourself. Your actions before your return to Vinwen might be considered treasonous, and the only reason I dismissed them was because you were dying. Make another mistake, and you’ll not be so lucky now that your health is nearly perfect.”
Lawen halted, knuckles white, jaw locked. The general stopped ahead of him and turned.
“Do you have something to say, Lawen?”
“Sir, I tried to spare the life of a child.”
“A child who broke the law.”
Lawen said nothing.
Cadogan sighed. “I understand how you feel.”
“Do you, sir.”
The general’s eyes gathered darkness. “Tread carefully, Lieutenant. You’re in the King’s Keep.”
Lawen gave a curt nod. “I will curb my tongue, sir. But I will not stand by if my brother is in danger, Order or no Order.”
“Do not cross the Order of Corvus, Lieutenant.”
Lawen held his chin high. “Then they had better not cross me.”
Chapter 28
Gwyn stood before the tower window, watching the sun climb over Crowwell nestled in the greening valley far below. Golden strands of fire glistened on the dewy hills around the city, and birds trilled in a copse of trees below the tower where Gwyn had spent his night. Soon the door would open, and he would be summoned to the trial chamber again, this time to swear an oath of fealty to the Crow King. He had no choice if he wanted to live, yet his skin prickled at the idea.
The Crow King ruled Simaerin. Protected the beautiful country from outside threats. Contained wild magic to keep the innocent from being harmed. Weren’t those noble acts? Wasn’t the Crow King doing what must be done, not unlike Gwyn’s quest to save Lawen?
Yet Gwyn couldn’t bring himself to believe his thoughts. Executing mages merely because they found magic within themselves — because they weren’t useful enough to integrate into the Order of Corvus? That wasn’t reasonable. It was cruel.
On his deathbed, Lawen had called the Crow King a tyrant. What had caused his brother, once so loyal to crown and country, to alter his philosophy?
Is the Crow King a tyrant?
Did it matter? G
wyn would die if he refused to swear an oath, and what good would that accomplish? He loved Simaerin and his newfound magic could now be used to protect the kingdom from foreign enemies. Wasn’t that reason enough to join the Order of Corvus and stand as a mage soldier under the Crow King’s banner? He could protect his family, his friends, his lands from the Fraelin-Ilidreth invasion, allowing Simaerin to thrive. Whatever his feelings toward the Crow King, it didn’t mean Gwyn would stand by and watch his beloved country burn.
He would swear the oath, and he would mean it. For crown and country, he would fight until death; for freedom and life, he would join the Order.
The door opened and Gwyn turned. A man in dark robes beckoned him into the room beyond. “Come. The Crow King is ready to see you.”
Gwyn stepped into the trial chamber and found the same sight as before: rows of cloaked men loomed overhead. The Crow King sat upon his throne, leaning forward this time, elbow propped on his leg, chin in his hand.
“You enter this hall to become a free man in service to the crown,” said the Crow King, smiling gently. “What say you, Gwynter ren Terare? Shall you serve me?”
Gwyn strode to the center of the room, placed a hand to his heart, and held his chin high. “I swear to serve king and country for its greatest good, Your Majesty.”
The king’s smile widened to show his teeth. “Very good, young lord. And I accept you. Welcome to the Order of Corvus.”
Chapter 29
Nathaera stared at Lawen’s grim face. She sat with him in her family’s orchard, beneath the blossoming branches of an apple tree. Her eyes drifted to Kive crouched nearby, eyeing a beetle crawling along his hand and murmuring how delicious the poor insect would taste.
“I’m sorry,” she said, dragging her gaze back to Lawen, “but I don’t think I heard you. You see, a bumblebee flew by my ear and whispered a ludicrous tale about tyranny and magic and wicked mage cults all under our own banner and in our very own country. Which simply cannot be the case. Silly bug. Please, do go on.”
Lawen lifted an eyebrow, then he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Nathaera.” He shook his head, chuckling, but his smile faded.
The two sat in silence until Nathaera heard a real buzzing insect nearby. “I wish you weren’t in earnest, Lawen. I can hardly believe Gwyn has entered the service of the Crow King as part of a magic order sanctioned by the throne. It’s, it’s so awful. So twisted.”
“It’s delicious.”
Nathaera blinked and turned to stare at Kive, who munched on something. The beetle had vanished.
Nathaera gagged and turned away, lifting a hand to her lips. After she felt certain she wouldn’t retch, she lowered her hand. “What will Kive do? He’s barely willing to stay with me. I’ve promised him he’ll see Shiny soon, but if Gwyn goes to war, I’m afraid of what Kive might do. I try not to envision him terrorizing the streets of Crowwell, eating babies, and cooing after his ‘nice juicy rats.’ It’s a horrible portrait.”
Lawen’s lips quivered. “You raise a good point. But he’s too obviously an Ilidreth, and we can’t hide that fact. I can’t bring him along, or he’ll be killed. Not to mention what methods he may employ to obtain his supper.”
She grimaced. “Then what’s to be done?” She looked down to study her fingernail, screwing her face up in concentration. The idea dawned like a glorious sunrise. She snapped her fingers. “But of course! I’ll come along.”
Lawen started. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“No, listen. It’s the only way. If Kive and I travel very sneakily behind the army, that will satisfy Kive somewhat, and I can keep an eye on him.”
“And when he eats one of the sentries, or even you, Nathaera?”
“He won’t.”
“I won’t eat Fairy Wren,” Kive chimed in. “Kive doesn’t eat fairy wrens. Only rats, and birds, and flies.” He smiled. “And beetles. So delicious.”
Lawen moaned. “Does Kive know what fairy wrens are?”
She nodded. “But they’re not crunchy like other birds. Kive said so.”
“Uh huh. I see.” He sighed. “You can’t, you absolutely can’t follow us. It’s too dangerous. You’re a woman.”
Nathaera bristled. “And I suppose that makes me incapable? I seem to recall that you let me come along with you to the True Wood to search for Gwynter. What’s different about this?”
“A hundred thousand things. First and most importantly, you have Kive with you. Until he eats you.”
“I don’t eat fairy wrens,” Kive stated, lifting his chin. “Only rats, and birds, and—”
“And beetles, yes, yes, I know.”
“And flies,” Kive added.
“Right. Flies, yes. I feel so much better about your situation now.” He rubbed his eyes.
“You should!” said Nathaera. “So long as Kive doesn’t plan to eat me, he’s about the safest place to be. And if it’s true that the Crow King isn’t what we thought he was, I don’t feel so secure in Crowwell as once I did.”
Lawen hesitated. “There is something else, Nathaera. It’s difficult…” He trailed off.
“Yes?” she asked, cocking her head.
“It’s about the head of the order. He’s…”
“Yes?” She leaned nearer.
Lawen sighed. “Nathaera, the head of the Order of Corvus is your father. Lord ren Lotelon. He’s a mage. He’s…the one who…trained Gwyn.”
Her faint smile slipped away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you. A little ant came along, you see, and whispered a silly thing about my father lying to me all this time, and hurting Gwyn, and…” She bowed her head. “Are you certain?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m very sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, no. Don’t be sorry. I just…need to comprehend what all this means.” She looked up. “But isn’t all this dangerous for you to tell me? Won’t they know?”
Lawen shook his head. “No. At least, I think not. You see, I’m a mage too.”
Chapter 30
The Crow King’s army amassed on the north hills of Crowwell. Banners streamed in the high wind. Armor glinted in the bright sun. The tumultuous sounds of the cavalry forming ranks, the clink of metal as blacksmiths repaired shields and helms in last minute preparation, and the mingled odors of charcoal and sweat, flooded Gwyn’s senses. His nerves strung taut. Perspiration beaded on his brow. He strode beside Lord ren Lotelon, searching the din for any sign of Lawen or General Cadogan.
Men and horses parted for the lord and his apprentice. Whispers followed them, while the rest of the Order of Corvus trailed in their wake. This was an important campaign indeed if the Order joined with Cadogan’s regiment to wage war.
Gwyn fidgeted with the red tabard draped over his armor as he wondered how many of the soldiers understood about magic. Were they sworn to silence or were they ignorant? How did the Order work magery in war without word of their deeds inundating the streets of every city, port, and village in Simaerin?
Soldiers swore an oath. Did that oath entail a bond of silence? Could they say nothing? Or did the Order march only under strict conditions? Fraelin hadn’t invaded Simaerin so boldly in an age. Perhaps there had been no need of magery before this day in many long years.
Even so, rumors last for years and turn into legends. Magic must be involved in stifling the knowledge of the Order’s purpose. It was the only way the Crow King could be certain his people didn’t discover the truth.
“You will sleep in my tent and stay by my side in daylight, is that understood, Gwynter?”
Gwyn looked at the man beside him. “Yes, Master Traycen.”
“Your brother and General Cadogan will join us in the evenings for meals, and that is where you will have a chance to see Lieutenant Lawen. Only then, until we engage the enemy. Understood?”
“Yes, Master Traycen.”
“Good.” The lord led Gwyn through the throng of marshaling soldiers, to a corral holding several dozen black horses. Traycen m
otioned to a young boy, who raced forward and bowed low.
“Yes, Master?”
“Bring Sir Gwynter his horse.”
“Very good, Master.” The boy sprinted toward the corral’s gate, climbed over it, and disappeared among the stallions.
“A special provision has been made for you, Gwynter,” said Traycen. “The Crow King is very generous.”
Gwyn’s heart leapt as the boy reappeared with Aluem following meekly on his heels.
“Aluem!” Gwyn raced to the wooden barrier and reached his hand between the posts, stretching to touch his friend.
Aluem’s voice rushed like wind in his mind. ‘Gwynter, are you well?’
The boy led Aluem through the gate and walked beside him until they reached Gwyn. The boy then bowed to Traycen and padded away. Gwyn caught Aluem’s muzzle in his hands and pressed his forehead to the unicorn’s. He closed his eyes, nerves relaxing, mind and heart calming.
‘I told you, did I not, Gwynter? You are indeed a mage.’
Gwyn chuckled. “So you did, and so I am. You were right.”
‘You will find, my friend, that a unicorn very often is.’
The din behind Gwyn fell away and murmurs hushed. He released Aluem and turned. His eyes fell on a black horse climbing the hill, its regal rider tall and proud, black cape flapping behind him, black crown glistening under the sun like obsidian. The Crow King had arrived. He’d brought no escort.
The soldiers bowed their heads, making no noise beyond the faint rattle of their armor. Gwyn bowed his head with them, as did Traycen. Even the horses kept still.
The king rode through the ranks and reined up before Gwyn and his master. “Your maiden battle awaits you, young Gwynter. I do hope you excel upon the battlefield and bring glory to my kingdom.”
Gwyn lifted his head to meet the king’s eyes. “I will do all I can to protect my beloved Simaerin, Your Majesty.”
The Crow King smiled. “I think I understand you, Gwyn. Your heart is very pure. The unicorn is proof.” He inclined his head toward Aluem. “To the Ilidreth in ancient days, unicorns were said to bring good fortune to riders in battle. Let us pray to Afallon that is so, hm? A good journey to you both.” He shook his reins and moved on down the line, approaching the banner of General Cadogan. Gwyn’s gaze trailed to the general who came forward to greet his king. Lawen stood at Cadogan’s side in full armor.
The Complete Duology Page 16
