Somehow this scene hurt worse than watching Windsur’s men devoured by trees or Kive. Kive was almost an animal, not human. He didn’t understand. But this…
“This is war,” Father said, eyes staring straight ahead. “Take a long look, daughter, and reconsider your inclination to do as men do.”
Fire seared her stomach. She clenched her fists. “I didn’t come here to fight, Father.”
“You came here to find adventure. Mark this: Adventure is a myth. Reality is war, destruction, death. There’s nothing thrilling, nothing exciting, about it.”
She eyed Father’s back. “Is adventure a myth just like magic?”
He didn’t so much as twitch. “Magic isn’t a myth, Nathaera. It’s a tool. Most use it for ill, and so the Crow King keeps it in chains.”
“I wonder,” said Nathaera, “what that says of those who wield it in his behalf?”
Chapter 34
The ground rattled.
Gwyn pried his eyes open and stared into the grey sky. I’m in a wagon, he realized as the oversize contraption jostled and rocked over a rut in the highway. Several blankets shielded him from a chill wind, and a feather pillow guarded his head from the wooden slats of the wagon-bed beneath. He could hear the crunch of hooves and the nickering of horses around him. Faint murmuring voices. The clatter of wheels.
He dragged a hand across his face to swipe aside his tangled hair. His muscles throbbed like he’d run a thousand miles.
He swallowed hard against a parched throat, tasting grit and iron. His head pounded against his skull.
All signs of using too much magic.
Ah, yes. He remembered commanding the walls of Keep Lirial to reform into a stone foundation spreading across the plains, depicting a likeness of Swan Castle. It was all he could think of at the time and somehow it felt right.
“Good evening, Lord ren Terare. How do you feel?”
Gwyn turned his eyes toward a face peeking down at him from the wagon’s gaping rear. The man sat on horseback, cantering along, a smile on his lips.
“I am better than I was,” Gwyn answered, voice hoarse.
“You’ll be wanting water, I wager. Also, your brother. He said you would. I’ll be back.” The man wheeled his horse around and trotted out of sight.
Gwyn stared at the sky and tried to stay awake, too weary to contemplate anything of consequence.
Hooves approached. “Ho there, little brother.”
Gwyn turned a smile on Lawen as the man climbed from his horse and into the wagon-bed.
“Hello, Lawen.”
“You look a little less pale. That’s something. How do you feel?”
“Heavy.”
“It’s all that height.” Lawen rested his hand on Gwyn’s forehead. “Your fever seems to be gone.”
“Lawen, how did the battle go? Did the keep fall? Were we victorious?”
“Your part went wonderfully well,” Lawen said, “but we didn’t expect to unleash a dragon. I’m afraid we’re in retreat now, and while the Fraeli also retreated to the sea border, I don’t think we can call this a victory for Simaerin.”
Gwyn stared at him. “A dragon? A real dragon?”
Lawen nodded. “Just like a real unicorn or a real mage. Only a lot bigger.”
“But how did the army escape? Don’t dragons breathe fire?”
“Aye. And we were all about to succumb to his fiery wrath, but for a stroke of luck that’s since gone bad. Kive showed up and told the dragon to leave, and it did.”
Gwyn’s head spun. “Kive?”
Lawen nodded. “He surely did. But as I said, luck went bad. Lord ren Lotelon discovered both the Ilidreth and his companion. I’m afraid Nathaera is in for a storm when we reach Crowwell. Ren Lotelon is none-too-pleased.
“He can’t be blamed for that. It would shock any father to find his daughter so near danger.”
“Yes, well, he seemed equally upset about the fallen Ilidreth’s presence. Rumor has it Nathaera pleaded for Kive to stand trial, rather than face immediate execution. Lord ren Lotelon relented, but with great reluctance.”
Gwyn set his jaw and raised himself up by his elbows. “Where are they?”
“Near here, with the prison wagons.” Lawen helped Gwyn lean forward, and repositioned his pillow, to let him lean against the wagon wall.
“He locked his daughter up?” asked Gwyn, incredulous.
“No, but she’s commanded to stay with the prison wagons to keep Kive in them. Your unicorn is with her.”
“I must speak with Master Traycen.”
“Not right now.” Lawen’s tone was firm. “There’s little you can do at present. Besides, the lord mage is very busy with what’s left of his order, trying to protect the remnant of our forces. I doubt he’s in a mood to discuss an Ilidreth’s fate just now.”
That was likely true. Gwyn nodded. “How many men were lost?”
“Well over six thousand. We were slaughtered out there.”
So many men, gone forever. And why? Because of a war whose purpose remained veiled. Yes, the Fraeli invaded, but to what purpose? They had allied themselves with the Ilidreth, who felt that the Simaeri stole their land. Who was right? What did anyone gain compared to their losses? Gwyn fought to protect his home and lands. Could others say the same? How much of the fighting had become about gain and glory, rather than self-preservation?
“We’ll reach Crowwell in about one week’s time.” Lawen patted his arm. “Rest until then. We’ll find some way of helping your friends.”
“The Crow King will kill Kive,” Gwyn whispered.
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.” Gwyn looked into his brother’s eyes. “Tell me I am wrong.”
Lawen lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Gwynter. But maybe it’s best. Kive eats people. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.”
“I know. But there’s something…He’s broken, but he’s not hopeless. Maybe he can come back. Maybe there’s a way to rescue the fallen. Doesn’t Afallon love all people?”
“Some argue that Ilidreth aren’t people,” Lawen quietly said.
Gwyn frowned. “I’ve met several of them. I’ve walked into a Vale. I know better. They’re people, just like you and me. They’re being slaughtered like vermin, but why? Because the Crow King has commanded it. Why, Lawen? Why is he so determined to exterminate them?”
Lawen shook his head. “I couldn’t say. They keep to themselves well enough. If we stayed out of their woods, they’d not harm us.”
“Yet,” Gwyn said, “the Crow King burns the trees, captures and tortures them, feeds them their own kin…” He broke off, thoughts falling on Kive. His master had insisted that Kive subsist on rats — or on what he perceived were rats. But was it possible? The Crow King was a relatively young man, perhaps in his fortieth year. Kive had fallen three hundred years ago, or so Gwyn had assumed. Maybe Kive hadn’t been warped so long as that. Perhaps…
But to what purpose? Why would the Crow King seek out an Ilidreth only to twist him? There was no rhyme nor reason to it. When would he have done so? How?
If not the Crow King, perhaps one of his mages?
Gwyn sighed and closed his eyes. I’m too tired to come to any sound conclusions.
“Go back to sleep.” Lawen brushed his hand against Gwyn’s head. “Whatever plagues your thoughts should wait until you’ve recovered your strength. There’s nothing you can do in this moment.”
“You’re right,” Gwyn murmured. “Thank you, Lawen.”
His brother helped him to lie back down and Gwyn tried to dream; but his thoughts grew dark and shadowed, and doubts haunted his heart.
Gwyn mounted Aluem on the last day of the army’s march. The grassy hills surrounding Crowwell rolled like waves upon the ocean, familiar and green under a brilliant sun, while a strong wind brought the scent of brine from the nearby ports.
He had no chance to speak with Master Traycen of Kive’s fate, or even of Nathaera’s. Perhaps the mage avoided hi
m on purpose, or perhaps military affairs occupied every moment. In a way, Gwyn didn’t mind. It was beyond the lord’s power to do anything now, so near the royal capital. Messengers had already ridden ahead days before, bearing news of all that transpired on the plains near Keep Lirial.
Gwyn hadn’t been allowed to see Nathaera or Kive. He’d been stuck in a wagon until this morning, when General Cadogan asked him to stay near the head of the column, as one of the few remaining representatives of Corvus. He wielded the Crow King’s banner.
At least Aluem could reassure Gwyn his friends were well, considering the circumstances. Nathaera acted little changed, and Kive stayed content with an occasional rat, except when he pined for “Shiny.”
Nearing the city, Gwyn’s nerves grew taut. Another trial stood before him and he had little hope of saving Kive from execution.
A tiny voice inside kept asking why he wanted to. What about Kive made Gwyn desire to keep him alive? Could he be redeemed? Could an Ilidreth return from such darkness? He ate people, for Afallon’s sake. Even Celin, one of Kive’s people, had required that Gwyn slay him. Yet Gwyn couldn’t, and still strongly felt that he mustn’t.
“Aluem?”
‘Yes, Gwynter?’
“Could a fallen Ilidreth ever be healed? Does Kive stand a chance of being saved?”
‘Is that the real question?’
“Isn’t it? What should I ask?”
‘Whether or not a person such as Kive can be saved, should you not strive regardless? Bear in mind: Nothing can be undone of itself. It is through action and interaction that something can be changed. Kive is altered. He cannot undo what has altered him. But perhaps he can be altered again, and thereby overcome what has broken him. Wind shapes the mountain peaks. Become Kive’s wind, Gwynter, and see what shape you might forge in his world, and perhaps the world at large.’
“But how?” asked Gwyn, shoulders drooping. “Now he must face the Crow King. How can I save him from that?”
‘It is possible you have more influence over the king than you perceive.’
Gwyn contemplated the unicorn’s words as the column trudged on toward Crowwell. Midafternoon brought them up the last crest before the swelling hills gave way to the low valley dotted with trees and the sparkling ocean beyond. Crow Castle stood tall and ominous over the city, Gwyn thought, shuddering as the burden of what lay ahead pressed against his body. He would have to meet the Crow King again, and he dreaded the prospect even beyond his need to plead Kive’s case.
He rested a hand on the unicorn’s head. “Aluem, I’m afraid.”
‘Then all is well. Bravery cannot be proved in the absence of fear. Be stalwart and know your cause.’
The army started down the hill along the tree-lined highway. Ahead, the gates of Crowwell opened while horns sounded the clarion welcome. When Gwyn passed through the giant gates, he found a somber crowd assembled on either side of the wide thoroughfare. News of the army’s defeat had indeed arrived ahead of it.
Despite Gwyn’s heavy heart, despite his dread of future meetings, he lifted his chin and gripped the Crow Banner tighter. While Simaerin had been wounded, he’d fought to defend it, proud to serve his beloved kingdom. And he still lived. No need to despair. One engagement had ended, but the war was not decided. Fraelin had also taken a hard blow. Both armies would rebuild and fight again.
The procession through Crowwell took much longer than Gwyn’s first passage to Crow Castle. His insides writhed by the time the army entered Crow Keep and stood at attention before the barracks. General Cadogan dismissed the archers, cavalry, and foot soldiers; only the officers and the remnant of Corvus crossed the moat and rode to the castle’s main gate. If Nathaera and Kive came with them, Gwyn didn’t know. He didn’t dare crane his neck to search for them among the contingent. A soldier must look ahead.
The castle portcullis rose on a windlass. Gwyn tensed as he spotted the figure highlighted under a shaft of sunlight in the opening. The Crow King sat on horseback, so still, so silent, Gwyn wondered if he only imagined him.
The press of soldiers halted. A hush fell over them, long and breathless.
Slowly, very slowly, the Crow King raised his horse’s reins and snapped them. The sound echoed across the courtyard behind Gwyn. The horse started forward, hooves beating against the cobblestones, his rider erect and intent until he pulled the reins before Traycen ren Lotelon.
“Where is he?”
His tones were deadly soft yet carried as a shout across the open air. Traycen flinched but didn’t reply.
“Where is he, Traycen?”
“He, he escaped, sire.”
“Escaped.” The Crow King’s voice whispered like silk against a dagger’s edge.
“Last night.” Traycen’s shoulders quavered, as though he resisted a desire to fold in on himself.
“How, ren Lotelon?”
Traycen bowed his head low. “Forgive me, sire. It seems my own flesh has betrayed you.”
“Your child. The girl.”
“Yes, sire. She helped him and a Fraeli prisoner to escape, but I will find them all, and she will be severely punished.”
Gwyn touched Aluem’s neck. The unicorn understood and moved forward, forcing the other officers to part for him. The movement caught the Crow King’s eye and his pale gaze fixed on Gwyn.
“Ah. The boy mage. Come.” He lifted a slender hand and Gwyn thought it trembled.
He approached, stopping before the king, eyes never leaving his liege lord’s face.
“Is it true you found the fallen Ilidreth in the True Wood, Gwynter?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You brought him to Mount Vinwen?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You persuaded Lady Nathaera to bring him to Crowwell?”
Gwyn hesitated for a single heartbeat. “Yes, sire.”
“Now he’s escaped.”
“So it sounds, sire.”
“Are you not the least bit alarmed about this? He eats people as though they were rats. What of your lady friend? She is in danger.”
“Kive won’t hurt her, sire,” Gwyn said.
The Crow King flinched. “Kive, you say. That is his name?”
“Yes, sire.”
“This is very troubling.” The king ran a hand up his arm, shivering. “Very troubling. You know not what you’ve unleashed, Gwynter ren Terare. This Ilidreth is dangerous above all others.”
Celin’s warning to Gwyn resounded in his ears. “I don’t understand, sire, how that is true. Why is Kive so dangerous? What might he do?”
The king sighed. “This is not a discussion to be had under the full sun and in such numbers. Traycen, Cadogan, and the brothers: Lawen and Gwynter — you four shall accompany me to my private wing. The rest are dismissed. Reports of the Fraelin-Ilidreth engagement will wait. The matter of Kive is far more pressing.” He steered his steed around. “Come.”
Chapter 35
The Crow King’s private chambers flickered in the candlelight. Drawn curtains rustled in a stray breeze while the remains of a fire smoldered in the hearth. The air smelled of dust and beeswax. Before the fireplace, a fur rug stretched across the flagstones, and a single wingback chair of dark velvet stood to guard the flames.
The party of four stood before their king, Gwyn with hands behind his back, trying not to shift his feet as he waited for his liege lord to speak. The Crow King stood before the hearth, his back to his audience. Gwyn’s heart beat against his ears. He thought he heard Lawen’s as well.
A hushed voice broke the stillness. “The Ilidreth would destroy us all, if we were not stronger than they.”
No one replied.
“We must eradicate them, or they will overwhelm us at some future point. To leave them alone would allow them to breed and grow in magic. That must not be permitted. And so, we hunt them to keep their numbers small.” The Crow King turned, eyes flickering as though they had absorbed the firelight. “But Kive is a danger far greater. Do you know wh
at he is, Gwynter?”
Gwyn shook his head. “A fallen Ilidreth, sire. That’s all I know.”
“No, Gwynter. He is far more than that. He is an Ilidreth prince. Fallen, but still powerful. Broken, but for how long? If his mind were to right itself, if he were to regain his senses, he might raise an army brimming with such magic, Simaerin would crumble at the first blow. He would be our undoing, Gwynter. Do you understand?”
Kive? A prince? Gwyn stared at the Crow King. But that meant — could it be — he was the child of Lord Roth and Lady Shalesta? Poor, pitiful, frightful Kive? It was unbelievable…and yet Gwyn considered all that had transpired. All Celin had said of destroying the fallen fae — perhaps to spare his prince from insanity. The fact that Kive roamed Swan Castle, the one Ilidreth unafraid to dwell there. And a master — perhaps the one responsible for the castle’s fall in the first place? — who kept Kive in constant dread and under strict command. Why? To keep him from rising up again and uniting the Ilidreth?
Now, standing before Gwyn, the Crow King watched. A man determined to keep the Ilidreth scattered, who somehow knew of Kive’s ancient title.
How was it possible? Had the line of Crow Kings for the past three hundred years maintained the same hold over the Ilidreth heir? This Crow King knew of magic and ruled over it in secret. Did he possess it as well?
Gwyn took an unwitting step forward, staring into the peculiar eyes of his lord and king. “Sire, how do you know of Kive’s lineage?”
The Crow King smiled faintly. “Does one ruler not recognize another?”
“You’ve seen Kive before?” asked Gwyn.
“Often.”
“You’re his master.” It wasn’t a question.
“Ah, Gwynter. You little fool.” The Crow King sighed. “Could you not leave well enough alone? Must you discover all of my secrets?” His eyes flicked to a point behind Gwyn. “You and your brother are thorns in my side. So inquisitive. So impulsive. I spared Lawen once, which I now see was a mistake. Ah well. You are both sworn to my service, and I shall never discharge you. You are my liegemen and shall die as such.” The king stepped forward and stretched out his fingers to brush them against Gwyn’s face. Gwyn shuddered. “I should like very much to kill you now, Gwynter ren Terare. I am very tempted. But your power is useful, and I dearly delight in keeping you near. I sense your distrust. I sense your disdain. It is delicious to me.”
The Complete Duology Page 20
