The Complete Duology

by M H Woodscourt

  “All questions best answered by herself.” Mother lifted her eyes to the door. “You may come in now.”

  Gwyn sprang to his feet as the door opened. In stepped a familiar girl with bright eyes and a warm smile. Nathaera stood no taller than she’d been, but Gwyn found her fairer, with rosy cheeks and longer hair, soft and golden in the firelight. She wore a flattering gown in a fashion unfamiliar to Gwyn, likely a Fraeli design.

  Their eyes met. Nathaera let out a cry and launched herself at Gwyn, wrapping her arms around his neck. She clung to him, head pressed against his chest. “It’s so good to see you, you wonderful, giant boy!”

  Gwyn stood stunned, hands frozen at his sides. He stared at the crown of her head. “You’re here.”

  Laughing, Nathaera pulled back. “Your wits have slowed, alas. Of course I am. Could I hug you if I weren’t?”

  He shook his head. “But, Nathaera. You shouldn’t be here. It’s terribly dangerous.” His mind moved at a snail’s pace; his body tingled. She was supposed to be far away and safe. In Fraelin. With Kive.

  Gwyn blinked. “Where’s Kive?”

  Nathaera’s smile died. “Well…that’s why I’m here. At least, that’s why I’m here now. He sort of sped things along…”

  His feet felt far away. “What do you mean?”

  Nathaera shook her head. “He simply couldn’t take it anymore, poor soul. I learned not to mention you in front of him, or he went off on Shiny needing him, or finding Shiny, or riding Shiny Unicorn. Eventually he calmed down and stayed rather content. But I foolishly let your name slip when I was speaking with Adesta about a month ago. Kive overheard me, and…and he disappeared. I knew where he’d gone to. Where else but Simaerin? To find you.”

  Gwyn’s mouth fell open. “Kive is here? In Simaerin? Alone?”

  She bobbed a nod, biting her lip. “Isn’t it dreadful? I mean, he’s gotten much better about not eating people. Only a few are rats in his eyes. I’ve taught him a lot about different animals, and he’s gotten very good at naming people lots of kinds of beasts. He’s got an entire menagerie in his head! But still some people are rats. I think he’s actually very good at distinguishing between people of good character and people of bad. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get confused sometimes.”

  “Oh, Nathaera,” Gwyn said quietly, “Kive could be anywhere.”

  She nodded. “I know. He doesn’t know where to look for you. He must be so frightened.”

  Gwyn’s chest tightened against his lungs. “The Crow King is still searching for him. And for you, too. Coming back here for Kive was extremely reckless, Nathaera.”

  She laughed. “This coming from the young man who braved the True Wood and Swan Castle to find a cure that might not exist? Afallon above, but you are a funny one, Gwynter ren Terare. I couldn’t well let Kive alone, after all he and I have been through. It’s not been easy, you know, living in a foreign land, even with Adesta’s help. Most people there don’t like Simaeri, after everything. It took a while to gain any trust. Kive helped with that, actually. Being Ilidreth, people were inclined to sympathize, even though he’s fallen. Fraeli believe the Ilidreth can be saved, and they want to help them reclaim what’s been taken from them. It’s awful, what the line of Crow Kings has done to the Ilidreth in the past three centuries.”

  Gwyn ran a hand over his face. “Slow down a moment. Adesta? The name is familiar somehow, but—”

  “Oh, you know. Adesta Gilhan. The mage you trounced that day with the dragon. He’s told me all about it, somewhat grudgingly. He respects you a lot, especially when I informed him that you beat him after only a few weeks of mage training. He also despises you, and that’s also because you trounced him after only a few weeks of training.” She laughed. “He’s here, by the way. I brought him along; or well, rather, he brought me. We came across the channel with the Fraeli delegation.”

  Gwyn blinked. “What delegation?”

  “Oh, well, it seems the Crane King of Fraelin — he’s rather nice, by the way. Very generous — anyway, he’s seeking a peace treaty with Simaerin. It all hinges on whether the Crow King will leave the Ilidreth in peace. If not, the war may go on indefinitely, although I’ve heard the royal coffers of both countries are being rapidly drained by all the fighting.”

  A sue for peace? Gwyn wondered if the Crow King would listen. He had mentioned a shift of some kind in the days and weeks to come. Was this what he’d meant?

  An accented voice drifted in from the open door that led into the corridor. “Nathaera? May I come in now?”

  “Oh,” Nathaera spun toward the door. “Yes, yes of course. Come in, Adesta.”

  A slender figure stepped into view, pale-haired and handsome, just as Gwyn recalled. As he strode into the parlor, Adesta Gilhan met Gwyn’s gaze. “Greetings from Fraelin, Lord Gwynter of Vinwen. We are well met, I trust.”

  Gwyn nodded. “Hello, Lord Adesta Gilhan. For my part, it is an honor to meet once more.”

  “Then it is a dual honor,” Adesta said. “Lady Nathaera has said much of your exploits in the True Wood. I have also heard of your deeds at Keep Arch. It seems the Crow King favors you highly, and why not? Your reputation is well deserved by all reports. You’re a keen warrior and a merciful enemy. Your name has even reached the Crane King, and His Majesty is hopeful of peace by your example, particularly because of your sympathies toward the Ilidreth.”

  Gwyn frowned. “My sympathies do not reflect the opinion of Simaerin’s court, I’m afraid. And while the king does favor my skills, we do not share a common view of the world, nor does he seek mine to alter his.”

  “Adesta knows all this,” Nathaera said. “So does the Crane King. But that’s not exactly what he means.”

  Gwyn arched an eyebrow. “What does the Crane King hope to accomplish?”

  Adesta piped up. “He wishes to ally himself with you. The delegation to Crowwell is a farce to distract your king from the true negotiations.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Gwyn, shaking his head. He glanced at Lawen, wondering if their desire to rally against the king was further along than anyone had let on. Lawen smiled at him, eyes twinkling. He knew something Gwyn did not.

  “Well, Gwyn,” Nathaera said, drawing every eye to her. “You see…there’s a reason it took me so long to return to Simaerin. I was pursuing something; trying to solve a puzzle presented by the Fraeli. Adesta’s been helping me. We finally found the answer. The key to open rebellion against the Crow King. Up to now, Simaeri have been frightened of defying the crown. The church sides with the Crow King, supposedly because he has the divine right to reign.”

  “But he doesn’t,” Gwyn said, nodding. “I know this already. The Crow King shouldn’t rule because he usurped the throne, and he’s not even Simaeri.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Nathaera said, “but that’s only half the reason. One might easily argue that after three hundred years of Crow Kings ruling, they have a certain right.”

  “He,” Gwyn said. “There’s only ever been one Crow King, I believe. He’s merely feigned a succession by magically altering his appearance. He pretends to die of old age, his supposed child becoming heir. But there is no child. Only him, stepping in to fill his own shoes. It explains why there has always been a male heir.”

  The others exchanged looks, nodding.

  “It fits with the legends,” Adesta said.

  “But you imply there’s another reason why the Crow King shouldn’t rule?” asked Gwyn.

  Nathaera bobbed a nod. “Because, Gwyn, the line of the old kings hasn’t failed. The Crow King couldn’t destroy them. He magically could not.”

  Gwyn stared at her. “What?”

  Mother answered, her voice low and faint. “‘Twas an oath sworn by King Roth of the Ilidreth five hundred years ago to the line of Cygmund Wintervale, first of the Crane Kings in Crane Castle. ‘By blood and bond, thy line shall never fade, except by the will of thy heirs.’ That’s how the legend goes, at least.”

&nb
sp; “That is how it reads in Fraelin as well,” Adesta said. “Thus, we know the true line of Wintervale is not ended.”

  Gwyn searched every face, hairs on his neck tingling. “But how can we trace such a line? No doubt its heirs had to hide from the Crow King, if they even know the legend by now.”

  “It was never hidden nor forgotten. Not by the heirs of Wintervale,” Mother whispered. “The Crow King can’t destroy it, you see. But he can suppress it. One hundred years have passed since the last male heir was born to the rightful line of kings — until now.” Her eyes bore into Gwynter like burning coals.

  Gwyn shook his head, refusing to understand even as dread swept through him, cold as the heights of Keep Arch in dead winter.

  Mother stood and stepped forward, hand extended. “You, Gwynter, are the rightful king of Simaerin by my blood.”

  His mind wobbled. His heart wavered. Silence screamed in his ears as every pair of eyes considered him with a reverent awe that shook his very core. He sat down in a wingback chair. “No.” His voice rang cold and firm. “I am not a king. I am not the king.”

  “But, Gwyn,” Nathaera piped up. “You really are. Adesta and I traced the line as far as we could, and your mother’s history fills in the rest.”

  “I’ve always known it,” Mother said, “but I dared say nothing to anyone after I bore a son — the first of Wintervale in a century. It meant something. Even the Crow King knew it. He visited here after you were born, claiming to be on his way to the woods. Perhaps he was. But he came here first, and he stared at you in such a peculiar way, I knew he understood what you were. But he didn’t try to kill you, because he knew he couldn’t. He could only suppress your magic.”

  Gwyn said nothing, hands clasped in his lap, heart thundering. This wasn’t real. It was a lie. A dream. Something made up.

  Lawen spoke. “I didn’t know, Gwyn, until a few months ago. Honest to Afallon. But it stands to reason, the facts are verified. Everything makes sense.”

  Gwyn shook his head. “No.” His mind detached from his body, as though he floated far above, voices muffled like they traveled through water to reach him.

  Lawen went on. “Even your birth — the first male heir in a century — has an explanation. At least, I have a theory.”

  “An eruption,” Adesta said.

  Lawen nodded. “Exactly. The Crow King made certain the heirs of Wintervale were never male, because a male heir’s magic acts in righteous defense of Simaerin; thus, the heir would have the power to overthrow the usurper. But as a direct result, the defensive magic had nowhere to go, and it built and built upon itself until it finally exploded, driving its will into Lady Mair, as its last surviving heir. She bore a son, rather than a daughter, because the magic demanded it. The same must have happened one hundred years ago, but that male heir was born mad. Thus, he was harmless against the Crow King.”

  “I confess,” said Mother, head erect, “I have always harbored hope that Gwyn would bring about the revival of our rightful claim. Wintervale was meant to rule Simaerin. Gwynter, you have the power and right to take back our throne.”

  Gwyn bowed his head, trembling. “No.”

  Lawen knelt before him and rested a hand on Gwyn’s arm. “I imagine this is a great shock. You need time to think over—”

  Gwyn shook off his hand and rose to tower over every staring face. “I am not a king. I won’t be a king.” He marched to the door, shoved it aside, and darted for the stairs.

  “Gwynter!” cried Mother.

  Lawen’s inquiry followed. “Gwynny?”

  “He’s frightened,” came Nathaera’s voice, chasing him up to the landing above. Gwyn didn’t stop until he’d safely locked himself inside his bedchamber. But he didn’t feel safe. He felt hunted.

  Chapter 40

  “I’m going up after him.” Nathaera started for the parlor door.

  Lawen caught her arm. “Give him a little time to sort all this. It’s more than a mere shock. His entire world is upended.”

  Adesta stepped up beside Lawen. “Indeed. Imagine being told you are intended to rule, but first you must overthrow the very sovereign who has enslaved you and your countrymen.”

  She looked between the two men, a pit forming in her stomach. “I can’t even begin to fathom how that must feel. But he can’t be left alone. I’m not going up to try to persuade him, or even to comfort him, for I can’t imagine my words would provide any solace. I am merely going up to be with him, so that he feels less alone. Please unhand me, Lawen.”

  He released her. “Go, my lady. Be with him.”

  She ran up the stairs, feeling eyes on her back until she crossed the landing and disappeared from their view. She hesitated outside Gwyn’s door, aware of the impropriety of entering, and nervous of intruding on his privacy. Drawing breath, she knocked. “Gwyn, may I come in?”

  Silence followed, then the door cracked open and Gwyn peeked out at her, pale and grim, grey eyes stormy but contained. He studied her and she studied him back. He looked older, taller and — dared she think it? — more handsome. But he also looked leaner, which he could scarcely afford. Dark circles marked his eyes, hinting at bad dreams and restless nights. He’d been plagued before today’s revelations. Had Nathaera brought too heavy a burden for the young man? He was sixteen years of age, despite his copious maturity. She always forgot he was still so young.

  “I’m sorry, Gwyn, for putting so much on your shoulders. It’s not fair to you, is it? What we’ve said. What it means. I would be terrified to learn what you have. It’s a very great responsibility.”

  “I don’t want it,” he murmured, a flash of panic brightening his eyes like lightning in a storm. “I’m a gentleman farmer, Nathaera. The son of my father, nobleborn, but not a king’s heir. I’ve not got the skill, the aspiration, the…the ambition. Two years ago, I craved joining the Crow King’s army to fight and gain glory. But war is ugly. I’ve had my fill of it. I just want to stay home and tend crops, oversee the slaves, and…” He grimaced. “Even that sounds so ugly. Slaves, Nathaera? People. People in bondage to me, as I am in bondage to the king. When did that happen? Why is everything so ugly?”

  “Because,” Nathaera whispered, “we’re led by a tyrant. But Gwyn, you could fix things.”

  He shook his head. “Who would follow me? Who would accept the distant heir to a long-forgotten line of kings? Those who do know of that line believe the Wintervales displeased Afallon, and he cursed them to death and ruin. I would sooner be burned than crowned if I stepped forward to claim an old birthright.”

  “Once, perhaps. But not now.” Nathaera waved her hands before her. “Think of all that’s changed since you came into your power. The people are waking up, Gwynter. They’re seeing the king’s true colors, as he executes infants, as he wages an endless war against a nation suing for peace. If Simaerin learns that the Crow King is no Simaeri at all, but one of the very race he persecutes? Oh, Gwyn. Now is exactly the time to act.”

  He scowled. “I do not dispute the need to end his reign. Already Lawen and I have discussed it, and we know of others who feel the same. But I won’t be the next king, Nathaera. Besides all my other reasons, I’ve a strong distaste of their kind presently.”

  “I can certainly appreciate why, but the Crane King is a good man. Not all kings are wicked.” She sighed. “I didn’t come here to persuade you to take up a crown. I came because I didn’t want you to be alone. The fact is, Gwynter, you are an heir of kings, and the Crow King knows it. The fact is, he must be overthrown. The fact is, Kive must be found before the Crow King finds him. The fact is…I love you, Gwynter ren Terare. Those are facts. Now, I’m going outside before my face is entirely red. You, you just stay here, and keep your peace. Good afternoon, Gwynter. I’ll see you at supper.” She whirled and bolted down the corridor, cheeks flaming like a blazing fire.

  “Did you know, Aluem?”

  The unicorn regarded Gwyn from the far side of the barn, near a pile of hay left by a servant who
couldn’t tell Aluem apart from horses.

  ‘There are many things I know, Gwynter,’ replied the unicorn.

  “Wintervale,” Gwyn said.

  ‘Ah. She told you.’

  “You knew.”

  Aluem crossed the hay-strewn floor without a sound. ‘You are upset.’

  “I’m frightened and confused.” Gwyn shrugged, stepped to a second, closer pile of hay, and sat in it. “What am I to do?”

  Aluem folded his legs beneath him, settling down beside Gwyn. ‘What you feel to be right. Is that not how you have always tried to conduct your life?’

  “But Aluem, I can’t be a king. I’m…I’m a farmer and a soldier. I’m ill-suited to politics.”

  ‘Do you think anyone else would feel better suited in your position?’

  Gwyn hesitated. “Lawen would be one hundred times better.”

  ‘Perhaps, but would he feel one hundred times better about the concept? It is easy to assess your own flaws, for you live in your own head. It is equally easy to project greatness or superiority onto another. But it is not fair to do so. Indeed, no one is immune to doubts and demons, Gwynter — but the thing to fear is the man who ignores his doubts and idolizes his demons. A man without flaw is no human, but rather a creature cloaked in human flesh and intent upon the fall of those around him. That is how he feasts and thrives: he builds his glory on the rubble of other men’s dreams.

  ‘You are not such a man, or you would not heed the fearful cry of your mortal confines. What you must do, Gwynter, is sooth your fears with the aid of your soul — for all souls begin in glory, filled with light. Pray, Gwynter, to Afallon, who gives you strength. There you will find your answers. After that, you must accept those answers, whatever they be, and strive to achieve them. Beyond this, I cannot say more. In the end the choice is only your own.’

  Gwyn considered Aluem with a blend of dread and affection pressing against his chest. “You are wise, my friend, and I would be a fool to disregard your words. I will pray, as I should have from the first. Thank you, Aluem.” He paused. “Aluem? Nathaera told me that she loves me. It was very sudden, and my thoughts were already so full, I couldn’t be certain that she meant it — though I can’t imagine she would say anything she doesn’t mean. Yet, do we know each other well enough for such feelings? We’ve not spoken until this day for nearly two years. Back then we were barely more than children… I’m not certain what I should do. How I should behave. I hardly understand my own heart.” He rested a hand against his chest. “I do care about her, but is it in the same way? Should I even entertain such questions in these turbulent times? My head won’t stop spinning.”