“I can do it.” He paused. “At least, I believe so.”
“Really?” asked Cadogan, tone skeptical, one eyebrow arched.
“I have an image in my head now, and I understand how to achieve it,” Gwyn answered. “It’s little different from calling forth a gale.”
Cadogan glanced at Traycen. “Very well. Send your pupil forth like a gale and let us see the measure of his skill.”
High noon reigned as the hour of full strength for a mage, so Traycen claimed. Gwyn must test that now, for he needed all the power he could muster if fending off arrows and dueling a single mage had taxed him so dearly yesterday.
He rode ahead of the army, alone but for Aluem.
A part of Gwyn resisted the idea of destroying Keep Lirial. It was a fortress of high reputation and a relic from an age before the first Crow King rose to power by Afallon’s will. It had been the final defense of the last reigning Wintervale king. The royal line fell into ruin when their House displeased Afallon. Though the keep still stood at the end of that bloody campaign, none of House Wintervale survived. Of that victorious day, one historian had penned the declaration: Winter fell at long last.
Now Gwyn would reorder the keep, destroying a shard of history. A lamentable thought.
The keep rose before him, seeming to grow as he raced toward it. He felt confident he could alter the structure of the outer walls, assuming none of the enemy mages thwarted his efforts as Adesta Gilhan had the day previous.
He could only try.
Gwyn leaned forward to speak above the wind into Aluem’s ear. “Bring me to the very walls, my friend.”
Aluem’s gait quickened. Unicorn and rider flew over the plain, wind whistling in Gwyn’s ears. The gates loomed ahead, set into high-rising walls of grey stone topped by a parapet.
Arrows shot past Gwyn’s head. He leaned closer to Aluem’s neck. An arrow sliced through his sleeve but drew no blood. Another arrow missed his ear by a millimeter. He’d chosen not to wear armor today to avoid hampering Aluem’s speed. Even Lawen agreed. It was the safest way to ensure Gwyn escaped, even at the risk of being shot.
He’d felt confident he wouldn’t be wounded. Whether by magic or the will of Afallon — or both — he had remained unscathed so far. If that changed, he would be no worse off than any other soldier in combat.
‘Prepare yourself.’
Gwyn nodded and stretched out his hand. Aluem ran straight at the wall beside the gate; at the last possible moment, the unicorn veered sharply left, and Gwyn whipped out his hand to run his fingertips along the rough rocks. Blood smeared the wall, trailing behind Gwyn’s hand as he poured his will into the stones.
“Go!” he cried, pulling his arm in, fingers cracked.
Aluem raced from the keep. Arrows descended, hundreds of them, as voices rang overhead, barking orders. Screaming for his execution.
Gwyn slumped against Aluem’s neck, drained and dizzy. A mighty crack boomed behind him as the earth shook. His vision darkened and his mind tumbled into a chasm beyond fatigue.
“By Afallon, he did it.” Cadogan laughed. “He actually succeeded!”
Lawen stood beside the general, grinning from ear to ear, heart swelling. Gwyn and his unicorn galloped toward the encampment; and behind them, cracking and rumbling like a thunderstorm, the walls of Keep Lirial tumbled.
“That boy’s magic is something else,” Cadogan said, shaking his head. “He’ll turn the tide of this war. The Fraeli won’t be able to hide now and their morale will be trounced. The Ilidreth will slink back to the woods and leave us in peace.”
“Don’t celebrate victory prematurely,” Traycen murmured. “When those walls have crumbled, we have our own conflict to meet, and Gwynter will be too tired to assist us. He’s played his part in this battle. It will be days before he recovers enough strength to dodge a single arrow.”
Lawen scurried forward as Aluem approached. The unicorn came to a sharp stop and Lawen pulled Gwyn from his back. “Gwynny?”
Unconscious and flushed, covered in a sheen of perspiration, Gwyn didn’t stir.
“I’ll take him to a healer.” Lawen swung Gwyn’s arm over his shoulders and pulled him upright.
“Be quick. We ride to battle soon,” said Cadogan.
“Yes, sir.” Lawen started for the nearest healer’s tent. Aluem trotted beside him as he struggled to hold Gwyn up.
“You did well, brother,” Lawen whispered. “I’m so proud. Rest easy in the knowledge that you’ve done your part.”
Cries broke out among the Simaeri soldiers as Lawen left Gwyn with a mage healer. He trotted to his general’s side against a surge of darting men. “Sir?”
Cadogan caught his arm. “The scouts I sent to assess Gwynter’s work have returned. The Fraeli brought a dragon.”
Chapter 33
Nathaera sang snatches of lullabies and sea ditties she’d learned in her childhood — which wasn’t so long ago, she supposed. The horse she rode seemed to enjoy the songs, if she read the flick of its ears right, and Kive hummed along tunelessly. The rabbit rode morosely in her arms, her only critic.
Around noon, Nathaera contemplated halting for a bite to eat, but the neigh of horses ahead brought her up short for a different reason. Nathaera slipped from the horse’s back and crept up the steep hill. She peeped over the other side and groaned. The army’s supply train nestled in the valley below, and from the look of things, a battle waged beyond that.
She should have guessed she’d caught up, after she’d stumbled onto the remains of a battlefield last night.
“Use your head now and then, Nathaera, won’t you?” she muttered as she backed down the hill and remounted her horse. She’d best circle around and see what she might of the ensuing fight. Perhaps, just maybe, she would spot Gwyn or Lawen.
“Come along, Berry ren Cream.” She nudged the mare onward. The horse nickered and trotted along the course Nathaera cut toward the line of trees bordering Siaan Wood. Kive kept up, still humming.
The three companions sneaked through the trees until Nathaera judged she’d come far enough alongside the army to risk a glance. She tethered Berry ren Cream to a sapling and crept forward, Kive on her heels. The two peeked between the trees as the clash of arms rang in the air. She expected to find soldiers fighting brutally — but far worse than that unfolded before her.
The blood rushed from her face as a cry tore from her lips.
Huge and black, wings spread wide and snout streaming smoke, a dragon wheeled in the sky.
She forced herself to search the battlefield again, heart thumping in her ears as she realized how many Simaeri soldiers sprawled across the ground, some blackened husks. Smoke curled from their remains.
Nathaera swallowed down bile. “K-Kive, do you see Shiny? Please tell me you see Shiny!”
Kive lowered his eyes from the circling terror above. “Fairy Wren, there’s a giant lizard in the sky!”
“Yes, Kive. Yes. That’s a, a dragon, and if he has his way, we will be crisped like those poor soldiers out there.”
Kive shook his head. “Lizards can’t eat Kive.”
She choked down more bile. “Kive, listen for a moment. Do you see Shiny anywhere?”
“Shiny?” Kive tilted his head to one side. “Is Shiny here?”
“Somewhere in that mess, yes.”
“Oh, we should go find Shiny!”
Nathaera snatched Kive’s sleeve. “Hold a moment, O eager one! Don’t you remember what I said about crisping? I, for one, prefer to keep my skin.” Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes.
Kive’s red gaze flitted between her and the battlefield. “But Shiny!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Kive. Please! We must handle this strategically. One cannot run pell-mell into the open when a, a dragon is winging overhead.” She yanked him down beside her. “Think with me, Kive. We must be as smart about this as two brash young people can be.” She paused, wondering how old Kive must be to remember when Swan Castle once thri
ved. Three hundred years at least. “Or two brash young-looking people.”
She turned her mind back to the present dilemma with a shake of her head. Concentrate on what you can control. Nothing else.
“Fairy Wren, does the lizard need to go away so we can find Shiny?”
She turned back to Kive, eyes narrowing. “If you told the, the lizard to go away, would it listen, Kive?”
He bobbed his head. “Oh, yes. Lizards are very good listeners of Kive.”
She clicked her tongue. “That won’t work. You would need to get very close to shout, and there’s a rather strong chance you’d be crisped before you got to open your mouth. I won’t risk it.”
‘What if I carried him close enough?’
Nathaera whirled with a shriek. “Aluem!” She rushed to the unicorn, who stood just within the trees, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad to see you! Where’s Gwyn? Is he all right? And Lawen? The d-dragon — it didn’t crisp them, did it?”
‘I have lost track of Lawen, but Gwynter is safe for the present. I sensed your nearness and intended to make use of it. Kive is exactly the best way to stop the dragon’s rampage.’
“But you’ll both be in danger,” Nathaera said, pulling back to look into the unicorn’s eyes.
‘Not much. Dragons cannot easily harm a unicorn, nor are they eager to try. He will likely avoid me as best he can; but if I challenge him, he will accept and fly close enough for Kive to order him away. That should break whatever force has harnessed him to such a fell purpose.’
“You make it sound very simple, but still I worry.”
‘I will not fault you for feeling a human emotion. You can hardly do otherwise.’ Aluem turned to Kive. ‘Will you ride upon my back, Ilidreth? We must tell the flying lizard to leave, or he may hurt your shiny friend.’
Kive pawed Aluem’s neck. “Oh no! He mustn’t do that. He cannot hurt Shiny.” He leapt onto the unicorn’s back. “Come along, Shiny Unicorn. We must protect Shiny!”
The unicorn bounded toward the battlefield as fire filled the sky. The dragon wheeled wide across the field. Screams erupted below, agonizing and horrible. Nathaera flinched and trained her gaze on the galloping unicorn.
“Please, Sweet Afallon. Keep them both safe.”
At first the dragon circled away from Aluem, but the unicorn bayed a singsong cry, and the dragon circled back at once and flew lower. A tongue of flame streamed from the dragon’s mouth, but Aluem’s horn pulsed with an iridescent light that swallowed the fire at once.
Kive called out his command, tone like a cracking whip across the field. “Go away, Lizard! You will not hurt Shiny!”
The dragon lurched back. Its wings beat the air and it rose higher, higher. The soldiers on the ground froze and stared up until the dragon disappeared into the blue horizon above Siaan Wood. One man’s cheer rose from the battlefield. Another, another. Shouts and whoops filled the sky.
So many soldiers lay dead, most of the Simaeri forces had fallen. Tents smoldered. Untethered horses had bolted. But the dragon was gone, and with it the last threads of the Fraeli army’s morale. A horn called and the Fraeli troops pulled back. Not one Simaeri soldier gave chase.
The battle had ended, but which force claimed victory, Nathaera couldn’t guess.
Aluem trotted toward her in the trees, Kive still on his back.
“I told Lizard, Fairy Wren. He can’t hurt Shiny anymore. I told him not to, and he left.”
Nathaera beamed. “Well done, Kive! I saw the whole thing. You did very well!”
The thunder of approaching hooves seized Nathaera’s attention. She stepped around Aluem and her eyes widened. Coming fast, eyes blazing, Lord Father galloped toward her. Nathaera stepped back into the trees, praying he hadn’t seen her. Praying he chased after a deserting soldier, or, or anything else.
She gasped. He’d seen Kive. He knew about Kive. Mother had told him. And even if he didn’t think Kive was the same Ilidreth, he certainly knew an Ilidreth riding a unicorn had commanded the dragon to leave.
“Not good, not good, not good.” Nathaera caught Kive’s arm and stared up into his pale face. He still sat on Aluem’s back, eyes bright, humming.
“Kive, you need to hide. Go! Aluem—”
An arrow whistled past Nathaera’s arm and stuck to a tree trunk mere feet away. She yelped as Aluem reared up. Kive clung to the unicorn’s mane to keep astride.
“Don’t move!” Father’s voice rang out.
That settled it. He had seen her. The black stallion halted just outside the trees. Lord Traycen ren Lotelon dismounted, cape billowing in a menacing fashion.
The looming man stalked through the undergrowth, eyes smoldering as they flicked between Nathaera, Kive, Aluem, back to Nathaera. He stopped before her, folded his arms, and in a voice like thunder, said one word: “Well?”
She did her best not to quiver, and but for her lips, she thought she did a fair job. “Hello, Father.”
His eyes narrowed.
She gulped. “I’m fine, by the way. Not a scratch on me.”
His eyes turned into slits of fire and ruin.
Nathaera winced. “I had no choice, you see. Kive here, well, he wanted Shiny. And I couldn’t let him wander off looking for Shiny on his own. If I did, he’d eat everybody he saw along the way, and that would be on my conscience. I’ve been teaching him, Father. He’s learning about colors, and what sorts of animals are edible, and which aren’t. He sees people as animals, so I thought, if I could teach him different kinds of animals, he might not think we’re all rats and fewer people would be in danger of being eaten.”
His anger was nearly palpable.
She took a step back. “I am sorry to worry you, but Kive wouldn’t harm me. In fact, he’s been my bodyguard. He took care of that dragon, didn’t he?”
“Did Gwynter put you up to this?” asked Father in a quiet, rumbling tone.
“No! No, no. I put myself up to this. I’ve not seen Gwyn since Mount Vinwen.”
“Lawen, then.”
“No, he tried to stop me!”
“So, he knew.”
Nathaera bit her lip. “I mentioned it only in passing, and he berated me for the idea. He didn’t have any notion of my actually undertaking it.”
“Your Lady Mother sent me an urgent missive that you’d run away to sea. You lied to her.”
Nathaera ducked her head. “I knew she’d send someone to collect me if I told the truth.”
“You should have stayed home!”
Kive slid from Aluem’s back and jabbed a finger at Father. “Don’t shout at Fairy Wren, Rat.”
Nathaera caught the Ilidreth’s arm. “It’s fine, Kive. Please don’t interfere.”
Father’s eyes rested for a long, dark moment on Kive. “This thing must be executed, Nathaera. A twisted fae is far worse than you can fathom. He’s beyond saving.”
“No, he’s not! He’s learning all kinds of things. Except for his eating habits, he’s really very gentle.”
“He’s not a pet, Natty.”
Nathaera flinched. These days Father only used her childhood pet-name when he was very, very angry. Nathaera released Kive’s arm and held out her hands. “I’m sorry for upsetting you and running away from home. I’m sorry for worrying you. But I still feel I did the right thing. And I feel that the right thing now is not to hurt Kive after his victory against the dragon. He saved the Simaeri army, Father. That must count for something.”
“He’s a fallen Ilidreth,” Father answered. “The Crow King’s law on this is very clear.” He caught the hilt of his sword.
Nathaera grabbed his wrist. “No, Father. Please!”
“Stand aside, child.”
Nathaera stomped her foot and tightened her hold. “I’m not a child! I’m of age, a daughter of nobility in an enlightened kingdom. We are not barbarians! Kive has done an immense service for our country, and he will not be executed without a trial! If you wish to harm him, know that you must first h
arm me.”
“Move, Nathaera.”
She flinched but tightened her hold. “I won’t. Bring him before the Crow King. Let him stand trial to weigh his actions. He’s only helped us!”
“He’s an Ilidreth, Natty. He can’t be granted a trial. It’s the law.”
A singsong bay filled the air, and Aluem trotted forward, horn lowered to point at Father’s chest. Wind circled Kive, and whatever the unicorn said to Father drained the blood from the man’s face.
‘Let your father go, Nathaera. He will not harm Kive. The Ilidreth will stand before the Crow King.’
Nathaera uncurled her fingers and stepped back. Father’s shoulders slumped a little, but his eyes burned brighter.
“I never thought my own daughter would betray Simaerin.”
Nathaera cringed as her chest clenched. “This isn’t treason, Lord Father. It’s protecting a friend.”
He scoffed. “You will ride with the Ilidreth by the prison wagons as we return to Crowwell. He will stand trial before the Crow King. But Nathaera, the outcome will not change.” He started toward his horse.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Are we…are we returning then? Is the war over?”
He froze and turned to eye her. “Look around the field, Natty. See what remains of our army and then tell me we have the strength to pursue the Fraeli northward. Idiot child.” He mounted his horse, took up the reins, and glowered at Kive. “I’ll escort you to the wagons. Hurry.”
Nathaera scurried to Aluem’s side, fighting tears. She swallowed down a lump. Pressure built in her forehead. She would not cry. “C’mon, Kive.”
“Is Shiny there? Where we’re going?”
“He’s very close,” Nathaera murmured as she mounted Aluem. The unicorn brought her first to where Berry ren Cream remained tethered, and she took the reins to lead the mare toward camp. Kive leapt up behind her, and the unicorn followed Father’s stallion from the stand of trees, out into the scorched plains. Moans rose around Nathaera, and she choked back bile as she glanced down to find a man nearly cloven in two. A tear rolled down her cheek.
The Complete Duology Page 19
