Kwin

by Trudie Collins

  “Lady Shona is on her way back to her father’s estate.”

  “Well done,” the king said and slapped him on the back. “I assume Kwin is escorting her.”

  Gareth grimaced. “Unfortunately not. I have a lot to tell you.”

  The king insisted that Gareth join him for a meal and the two men ate and drank until late into the night. Gareth told him everything that had happened, without going into great detail, ending with how he and Shona had made it back to Tippet. He never mentioned Luka by name and purposely played down the part she had played; he didn’t want to reveal her secrets unless he had to.

  The king was not pleased that he had left Kwin behind, especially as he was injured, but he agreed that Gareth had done the right thing. The priority had been getting Shona home and both men had entered Wayvern knowing they might not make it out alive.

  Gareth then handed over his shackles and the controller, detailing what they were and how they worked. He explained that the death of someone in control of a slave’s shackles would result in all of the slaves he controlled dying. If an invasion of Wayvern was ever to be contemplated, a way to prevent that from happening would have to be found.

  Once he was sure the king understood the seriousness of the situation and would not do anything rash, he retrieved the flower from his bag. It was still perfectly preserved in his shield.

  The king took hold if it and studied it carefully. “So this is the cause of all of our problems,” he said, more to himself than Gareth. “I will arrange for a number of my magic users to shield themselves and cross the border in order to obtain more samples,” he said as he handed it back. “Hopefully they will be able to come up with a way to counteract its effects.”

  As it was so late by the time the men stopped talking, the king insisted that Gareth spend the night in one of the spare rooms in his suite, as his guest. Gareth wanted nothing more than to make sure Shona was being well looked after, but the king was right; it was late and he was exhausted. He probably wouldn’t make it far before collapsing.

  He gave his thanks then bid the king a good night. As soon as he was in bed, he tried to contact Kwin once more, but to no avail. There was still no answer and their connection seemed muted.

  Vowing to try again in the morning, and every morning after that until he heard back from Kwin, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  ————————————-∞————————————-

  It was dark when Kwin opened his eyes. It was a cloudy night so the moonlight filtering in through the window did little to light the room.

  But it showed him enough to let him know that he had no idea where he was. He tried to sit up, but found he lacked the strength.

  He felt a hand on his arm and turned his head to see an old woman sitting beside him, watching him closely.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to wake so soon,” she said in the Wayvern language.

  “Where am I?” he asked in a croaky voice. His mouth felt dry and parched.

  “My home,” she said. “Let me help you sit up, then we can try to get some water down you.”

  She was stronger than she looked and soon had him in a comfortable sitting position in the bed. She handed him a mug of water and warned him to drink it slowly. He had been ravished with fever for a few days and she had been unable to get any liquid down him. She understood how thirsty he was, but drinking too quickly would just make him vomit.

  He followed her instructions, waiting until the mug was empty before giving his thanks.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “My name is Maggie. And you are?”

  Kwin was about to answer, then realised that he couldn’t. There was panic in his voice when he said, “I have no idea.”

  Chapter 43

  “Calm down,” Maggie said. “Your body is still trying to fix the damage the poison did to you. It’s not a real surprise that you have a few memory issues. It will return, I promise.”

  Kwin looked her up and down. “Who are you and why are you helping me?”

  Maggie smiled at him. Something about her reminded him of his grandmother. “I’m just an old woman who wants to help. I know what it’s like to have magic flowing through you but be unable to use it.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow. That statement raised more questions than it answered. He could tell her that he could still use his magic, that his shackles were fake, but he had no idea whether she could be trusted or not.

  “I have magic,” she continued, “but as I am sure you are aware, women are not permitted to be magic users. If my parents hadn’t taught me to hide my abilities so well, I would have been executed.”

  “You cured me,” Kwin said. It wasn’t a question, but Maggie answered it anyway.

  “Not really. You managed to get rid of the poison yourself. All I did was help your damaged organs heal. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “I wish I could tell you. I know that I’m a soldier, that I entered Wayvern to rescue the woman I am due to marry. Other than that, I have nothing, not even flashes.”

  “Don’t worry. You are safe here. Nobody ever comes to visit me. You can stay here until you feel ready to leave.”

  Kwin thanked her then went back to sleep.

  He intended to only stay for a few days, until his strength returned, but it took much longer than he had been anticipating. The poison had done so much damage that without Maggie using her magic on him, he would not have survived.

  As the days turned into weeks, he got to know her well. They spent many hours just talking, initially while he stayed in bed, then, once he was able to get up, while he took gentle walks around her garden.

  She lived in the middle of nowhere with nothing as far as the eye could see other than trees and open fields. It was peaceful and calming. He would have been happy there, if it wasn’t for the burning need to be somewhere else; he just didn’t know where.

  He told her the truth about his shackles, demonstrating to her that he could use his magic by starting a fire for her. Once he was strong enough, they started to share their magical knowledge. Without any formal training, Maggie had learnt most of what she knew by trial and error so Kwin decided to become her teacher.

  Maggie was a fast learner and the days flew by. He still tired easily, however, so travelling back to Tippet was still a long way off.

  ————————————-∞————————————-

  Gareth paced outside the throne room, waiting to be given permission to enter. He had no idea why he had been summoned by the king and hated being kept waiting.

  Since arriving back in Tippet, he had been spending a lot of time visiting with Shona. He saw it as his duty to protect her as much as possible until Kwin returned. It never crossed his mind that his friend would not make it back to Tippet.

  After being given a few days to recover, he had been sent back to take command of the Western battalion, for which Fen was relieved. He had done a good job being in charge while Kwin and Gareth were away, but was more than happy to hand the responsibility back to Gareth.

  Shona seemed to be recovering well from her ordeal. He visited with her as often as his duties would allow and they spent many hours just talking. She admitted that she still had nightmares, but other than that she was fine. Her father had become insufferable, hardly letting her out of his sight for the first few days, so Gareth spoke to him, letting him know that he was suffocating his daughter and keeping her so close was doing her more harm than good.

  Eventually the door to the throne room opened and he was permitted to enter. The king was sitting on his throne, looking very pleased with himself. “Stand up properly,” he bellowed out when Gareth bowed.

  “Yes your Majesty,” Gareth said. “You wanted to see me Sire.”

  “Will you please cut the formalities. There’s nobody else around and, after all you have been through, you have earned the right to be treated as an equal.”

  “If
that is what his Majesty desires,” Gareth said, his voice filled with confusion. He was used to the king acting like this with Kwin, but he was a relative.

  “And drop this Majesty nonsense. When we are alone you can call me Tarkel.”

  “Yes your Majes−” Gareth started to say, but the glare that Tarkel was throwing at him froze the last word before it could fully form. “Tarkel,” he said instead.

  “That’s better. Now come with me. I have some exciting news for you.”

  The king led Gareth out the back of the throne room into his personal lounge. He used it as a retreat from everyone. Not even his wife was permitted to enter. Gareth was at a loss for words.

  Two objects were sitting on a table and King Tarkel picked the first one up and handed it to Gareth. It was the flower he had picked in Wayland, or one of its kin.

  The king grinned. “We have a way to counteract it.”

  This was huge news. “How?” Gareth blurted out, unable to contain his excitement.

  The king took a seat and indicated that Gareth should do the same. Once he was settled, King Tarkel explained.

  “According to what I have been told, initially my magic users tried burning the crops of flowers, but the fumes given off were so poisonous that a number of them would have died had one of them not been an expert in healing.”

  Gareth was impatient to hear the outcome, not the history, but he remained silent. It wasn’t a good move to interrupt your king, especially when he seemed so keen to tell you everything.

  “It was at that point that they decided to call in the royal gardeners, who suggested using weed-killer. Through trial and error, and a great deal of team-work, they managed to develop one that killed the flowers but appears to leave all other flora unharmed. They then enhanced it to make it fast acting. They are mass producing it as we speak.”

  Gareth leaned forward in his seat. “That’s great news. Now we just have to find a way to deactivate the shackles and we can look at mounting a rescue for all of our countrymen.”

  The king had a gleam in his eye when he smiled at him. “You already have something, don’t you?” Gareth said.

  The king nodded. “A way has been found to use magic to block the signal from the controller to the shackles. Don’t ask me how, I’ve no idea, but I have been told that it works over a great distance. We can disable them at each estate before we enter then take our time freeing the slaves. Every magic user is being taught what to do as we speak.”

  Gareth didn’t need to hear any more. “When do I leave?”

  “I’m not sending you back there, not after what you endured.”

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Gareth thought, but out loud he said, “You aren’t sending me, I’m volunteering.”

  “I expected nothing less, which is why I called you here. I needed you to know the full details so you could make up your own mind. Your battalion is scheduled to leave tomorrow night, so you won’t manage to get to them in time, but you should be able to catch up with them easily. We intend to invade while it’s dark and kill as many Wayverns as possible before they even realise we are there.”

  “How will you know who to kill and who to leave alive?”

  “I have given orders to kill everyone.”

  Gareth was shocked. For a moment he forgot who he was talking to. “Are you insane? You can’t commit genocide. Many Wayverns are decent people, just trying to earn a living. You can’t kill then just because of the colour of their skin.”

  King Tarkel exploded. “After what they have done to my people I would say it’s justified.”

  “If you do this, it will make you as bad as them, if not worse.”

  Gareth braced himself, ready to be shouted at again, but instead the king took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he said calmly. “I will change my orders. Only those who own slaves or interfere in their release are to be killed.”

  “There are still others who should be spared.” Gareth then told the king about Luka and all she had done to help him and Kwin. And about the other slaves she had helped to return to Tippet.

  “I can’t make any exceptions,” the king said regretfully. “How will the soldiers know who is really a friend and who isn’t? They can’t take the word of the slaves as they may have been made to say anything.”

  Gareth was crestfallen. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone harming Luka. On top of that, Kwin would never forgive him. He was about to protest when Tarkel continued.

  “However, if you manage to reach this Luka woman while she’s still alive, bring her back here. I will grant her immunity. Just her though, nobody else.”

  Knowing it was the best offer he was going to get, Gareth thanked him and requested permission to leave, which the king gave. It was a long journey from the palace to where Gareth’s battalion were stationed so he would have to ride fast.

  Despite the need for haste, Gareth decide to make a detour. He sent a messenger on a fast horse to the Western battalion with orders for certain members to remain where they were until he arrived. If he was going to rescue Luka, he would need people he could trust by his side.

  Shona was pleased to see him and listened to every word he said as he told her of the king’s plan. She understood why he felt he had to rescue Luka and promised that she would be made welcome at her father’s estate.

  “I wish I could stay longer,” Gareth said to her, “but I must hurry if I am to get to Luka in time.”

  “Look after yourself and bring Kwin back with you, if you can find him.”

  “I intend to,” Gareth said, then kissed her cheek and left.

  Gareth was exhausted by the time he reached what remained of his battalion. He had ridden almost non-stop for nearly an entire day. He had been forced to change horses twice and arrived at his destination with just enough time to grab a bite to eat before he had to set off again.

  Before crossing the border into Wayvern, he told his soldiers what he had planned. None of them questioned him. He was in command and if that was what he wanted, then that was what they would do.

  Despite the darkness, Gareth could see a change in the landscape when he rode into Wayvern. The moon was bright, making it easy to see the dead plant life lying on the ground in all directions. Part of him was sad; they had been rather pretty.

  They travelled through the night, ignoring every estate they came across; other soldiers could raid them. Gareth had one destination in mind and wasn’t going to deviate from it.

  The sun rose and Gareth called for a halt. They had been setting a fast pace and the horses needed to rest. Having some food was also a good idea.

  Conversation flowed as the men and women he had asked to join him relaxed, but he didn’t join in. His mind was on other things. He had been hoping that he would be able to contact Kwin again, now that he was closer to him, but there was still no response. The link still felt muted.

  He was also worried about Luka. What if he didn’t get to her in time? She gave the impression that she knew how to look after herself, but she had never faced Tippetian soldiers before, all of whom would be hungry for blood. Her servants would defend her and he wondered if the soldiers would end up killing them as well.

  Hearing movement up the road, he turned his attention to the approaching convoy. A number of open wagons passed by, all laden with Tippetians, escorted by a company of soldiers. They nodded at Gareth as they rode by.

  Rescued slaves, Gareth assumed and was about to turn away when his eyes met those belonging to someone he recognised. Instantly he was on his feet. “Halt,” he called out loudly.

  The soldiers obeyed as Gareth’s companions rose to their feet, grabbing their swords as they did so. One of the soldiers rode over to Gareth. “What appears to be the problem?”

  “That man there,” Gareth said, pointing to the person he had recognised. “Who is he?”

  The soldier looked over to where Gareth was pointing. “No idea. Just another rescued slave.”

  “Are
you sure?”

  The soldier frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Did he wear shackles?”

  “I assume so. With so many magic users removing them, there’s no way to know. Why do you ask?”

  Gareth smiled grimly. “Because the last time I saw that man I was in a slave pen at the auction. He was working for the Wayverns. He demonstrated how the shackles worked by killing an innocent young woman.”

  “You must be Gareth,” the soldier said. “I have heard a lot about you.” He then looked over his shoulder at the man they were discussing. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. He also killed a prisoner in front of Lady Shona, again as a demonstration.” On their journey, he and Shona had talked a lot and she had described the translator well enough for Gareth to have no doubt he was the same man. “If he repeated the demonstration every time a new batch of slaves arrived, who knows how many he has murdered.”

  “But he’s one of us,” the soldier protested.

  “I know. That’s what makes his actions so intolerable.”

  The soldier gave instructions to one of his colleagues, who retrieved the interpreter and dragged him before Gareth.

  “Well you don’t look as smug as the last time we met,” Gareth said. “Or don’t you recognise me with my clothes on?”

  The man looked him up and down, then his eyes widened. “I was forced to do it,” he stammered.

  “Not according to Lady Shona.”

  “You can’t do anything to me,” he cried out. “I’m not a Wayvern.”

  Gareth smiled at him. “No, but you are a traitor. Tell me, how many of your fellow countrymen did you kill?” The man started shaking, but said nothing. “Too many to count?”

  The man’s reply was a gurgle. Blood tickled from his mouth and when Gareth looked down, he saw a sword sticking out of his chest. The soldier pulled it free, allowing the dying man to fall to the ground.

  Gareth rounded on him. “Why did you do that? He should have been taken to Tippet to stand trial. Such a quick death was too good for him.”

  “I have my orders.”

  Gareth said no more. He couldn’t blame the man for his actions. He was a good soldier, obeying whether he agreed or not.