Gatehouse (The Gwenyre Caryra Chronicles Book 1)

by Bree Aguiar

  Running through the forest. The clang of metal shields and swords rustling through the trees. Before the group knew it, they were surrounded by heavily armored members of the Protectorate led by the looming, cruel figure of Sylvan. He looked massive, more so than usual, in his grand armor, dented from centuries of bloody battles. His sickly smile produced nausea in Gwenyre, who felt herself subconsciously tightening her grip on Sampson’s waist. The troll looked her straight in the eye, challenging her, weighing her against the crimes of her family. She could feel the pure hatred pouring out of him as he turned to look directly at Sampson, the man stupidly willing to protect the vile scoundrel of an elf.

  “Lord Sampson,” Sylvan boomed from the front of his squadron. “I always knew you were a dirty scoundrel, but I never thought you’d stoop so low as to cavort with a murderer.”

  Sampson sat up straight, pushing Gwenyre squarely behind him on the saddle to protect her. “Sylvan. Don’t you have some innocent children to scare from your spot under the bridge?”

  Sylvan laughed at the slight. “And here I thought that your family was honorable. Your great-great-grandfather fought with my battalion once. We took Newbridge back from those leaf-lickers with his help. How did his ancestor end up being a coward like you, protecting a low-life scum? Was bedding her worth your life?” With that last question, Sylvan unsheathed the sword at his hip, ready to squarely face the man before his final take down of the Caryra family.

  Sampson whispered low enough so that only Cyran and Gwenyre’s elven ears could hear. “I’m going to dismount. On my signal, you will take the horses and run. Don’t look back.”

  “No,” Gwenyre protested. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Don’t argue with me!”

  “Don’t kill yourself for me!”

  “Why do you have to be so insubordinate?”

  “And why do you have to be so insufferable?”

  “Will you two stop arguing?” This came from Cyran, shaking his head. Ametrine, who hadn’t heard the whisperings prior to the old elf’s outburst, looked at the three with confusion. The elf whispered his instructions, loud enough for all of them to hear. “We will dismount. The girls will take the horses and head fifty paces into the forest on your signal. I’ll make sure we join you,” he promised to the girls’ look of anxiety. “Can your signal make sure these buffoons won’t follow them on their escape?”

  “I can try,” Sampson sighed. He looked back at Gwenyre, concern filling both their eyes, before turning to Cyran and nodding. On his cue, they dismounted at the same time.

  “Two for the price of one,” Sylvan commented, that sick grin growing wider on his face. “How glorious.”

  Sampson unsheathed his own sword, though he kept his other hand free to direct his magical flows. Cyran, who held no weapon, raised his hands into fists. “On three?” Sampson called out.

  “One,” started Cyran.

  “Two,” this time from Sampson.

  And together. “Three!”

  Sampson raised his sword-less palm as Sylvan rushed forward, and then quickly swept it down again. With it came a tree that knocked out half of the battalion. The other half were too stunned to realize what was happening and looked around anxiously for the source of the crash. Sylvan, too bloodthirsty to care, kept rushing towards them as Sampson raised his sword. “Run!” he called out to the girls, who had missed the signal. They kicked their horses into action and went off into the forest, escaping the sounds of the battle behind them.

  They heard the clashing of metal-on-metal mixed with yelling and cursing behind them. Another tree came down quickly, wiping out some of the remaining men. They heard the grunts of Sampson and Cyran as they called out orders to one another.

  “On your left!”

  “Behind you!”

  “Lunge! Forward!”

  From the sounds of it, Cyran had been able to take the weapon of a fallen guard and the two were fighting back-to-back. Gwenyre couldn’t bare sitting back useless, unable to see what was occurring. “I’m going back,” she told Ametrine.

  “No,” the girl begged her. “It’s not safe!”

  “Exactly! I’m not letting them die for me. I can at least help. You stay here.” Without listening to further protests, she kicked Kyndene and led her back towards the sounds of the fight.

  The crashing trees had taken down many of Sylvan’s forces, making it a more even fight. But it was clear that her allies were losing. The remaining guards pushed into them, slashing at the two men as they came closer and closer. Gwenyre, enraged, let out a blast of fire from her palm.

  It was the most force she’d ever used, and it worked to get rid of more men than she’d cared to know. Shaking off the horrors of the scene she’d caused and ignoring the pained screams, rising smoke, and the sickly smell of scorched skin, she turned to face another group. This time, she aimed a spray of water at them, knocking them off the ground. Many of the remaining men, already spooked by the fallen trees and fireball, ran off in the opposite direction to safety.

  “Cowards!” Sylvan yelled after them “I’ll have your heads!” He turned back to Cyran and Sampson, ready to take them down himself. “Just us now. And your precious little elf.” He turned to Gwenyre, a dark growl now sitting on his face. Before she could realize what was happening, he pulled a small blade out from a pouch on his chest and threw it at her head.

  “No!” Sampson yelled, aiming his palm to face the hurtling blade. He used his flows to divert it out of the way, but not before Sylvan could use the distraction to strike him down with his sword.

  Gwenyre watched as blood began to pour from the wound on his chest. More enraged than she had ever been, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. She dismounted from Kyndene and ran to Sylvan, throwing every internal force she had against him. Willing her spirit to tear him to pieces. Willing him to be destroyed like his brother had been – brutally ripping him apart.

  The troll died anticlimactically, blood and guts pouring out from the deep wounds she inflicted before he could even realize. His body fell to the ground with a thundering crash as she rushed over to Sampson.

  The man was bleeding profusely from his own wound. Cyran looked on, not knowing what to do before Gwenyre waved him away. “Go find Aimee, she’s in the forest.” The elf agreed, running off to the girl and leaving the two alone for their last moments together.

  “Sampson,” she called to the man as she kneeled to him, putting his head on her lap and willing him not to lose consciousness. “Sampson please, you must heal yourself.” He looked Gwenyre in the eyes and let out a bitter laugh, blood coming out of his mouth.

  “I can’t heal this,” he said. “It’s too deep, and I used too much energy before.”

  “Then I’ll do it!” She placed her palms over the wound and willed herself to take on the pain in an effort to close the wound, like she had just a week ago when everything had been perfect. The agony was unbearable, and she screamed out as she tried to stitch it shut. It wasn’t working and she pushed harder. She saw the trees rustle behind her as Ametrine and Cyran joined them again, startled by her screaming.

  “No,” he protested in a weak voice. “All I’ve wanted was to keep you from pain. I can’t let you take on mine.”

  Tears and blood covered their bodies as she held him, watching him die. “Sampson, I can’t do this. I can’t live without you.”

  “Yes, you can. You’ve done it before. You’ll do it again.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” she agonized, her heart burning in her chest.

  “Find my brother. Find Henrie. He’ll help you. I have a feeling you’ll need to keep running. Word of this will spread quickly – other forces may come. Henrie will help. He’s always been able to pick up my slack.” The man grinned before coughing up more blood. Gwenyre held onto his hands tighter, willing him to stay.

  “Tell him I sent you,” he instructed with his few remaining breaths. “And tell him that I said you’re worth it.”


  “You can tell him yourself,” she commanded. “Please, let me try again,” she begged, wanting to fix him.

  “Stop being so insubordinate.”

  “Stop being so insufferable.”

  They sat there together, looking into each other’s eyes for the last few moments. Gwenyre spoke up to tell him one last time before he left her.

  “I love you, Sampson.”

  “I know,” he laughed quietly, more blood coming. “I hope you know that I tried. That if it was anyone, Gwen, that it was you.”

  She let out a deep sob, unable to hold it in any longer. “Could you just say it back?!” she demanded the man. She knew it was unfair, but she wouldn’t part from him without knowing if it was true. If all of this was worth it.

  “Of course I love you, you fool!” he replied, his voice getting weaker and weaker, his face turning pale as it drained its blood and energy. “So much. But you were quite too much to handle.” The knowing smirk remained on his face as the light left his eyes.

  Gwenyre’s body racked with heavy sobs as she fell onto his lifeless body, not wanting to leave. After a moment, Cyran dismounted his horse and walked over to her, pulling her off gently.

  “We have to go,” he said, pity filling his voice. “More will be coming.” She nodded, but remained where she was, looking at the man one last time. She pulled his eyes shut gently with her fingers so it would look like he was just sleeping. She got up and let Cyran walk her over to Kyndene while Ametrine watched on silently, sorrow sweeping over her face. Gwenyre mounted the mare, feeling numb. Before they could leave, she used the last of her internal energy to push Sylvan’s body as far away from Sampson as she could. With that, she silently turned his horse, her’s now, around, leading her into the forest with Cyran and Ametrine following close behind.

  They said not a word to each other as they trotted for miles. Gwenyre had no idea how she would, but she was going to find Henrie. She would follow the last of Sampson’s orders. Until then, she would feel nothing. Nothing but the numbing grief that filled her body.

  As the sun began to rise, spring birds singing throughout the forest, she felt herself beginning to laugh bitterly at the irony of it all. How could this world, so cruel just moments before, be this beautiful? How could it take something like Sampson away, while breathing new life into the spring day around her? It was sort of like her family – how could they, such loving and proud parents, have destroyed so many sons and daughters without a second thought? How could she have done just the same, moments before, unleashing fire onto innocent men who were just following orders? All to save a life that, in the end, she couldn’t save. A life that was sacrificed for her own. Her own life that would now never be fulfilled, not without Sampson.

  Her laughter turned to sobs as she willed her horse to stop for a second. Cyran and Ametrine pulled up beside her, and she felt the girl reach out and take her hand. The elf forced herself to stop crying at her friend’s touch.

  “We’ve lost too much,” Gwenyre commented.

  “Then let’s not lose anymore,” Ametrine remarked.

  Gwenyre smiled sullenly at that, fingering the locket around her neck and feeling the warmth of Sampson’s cloak around her body. I won’t, she promised herself. I won’t lose anymore. And I’ll kill the next person who tries to take any of it away from me.

  With that promise made to herself, she continued on through the forest with her friends in search of her deliverance.

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Writing a book sounds like a solitary exercise, but I assure you it’s not. I have so many people (and animals) to thank, but I’ll start with the most obvious.

  First, to my mom. Without her love, encouragement, and investments in me (including the constant requests to go to the bookstore), I wouldn’t be who I am today. And to my million other “moms” as well, from my vovõ whose constant strength inspires us all, to my aunts and cousins who have each taught me different lessons in their own way (Susie, Liz, Mary, Maggie, Ally, Little Bit, Melissa, Jenna, Emily, et. al.). I am so lucky to have grown up with a tribe of strong women surrounding me and cheering me on from the sidelines. Thank you for just being there.

  To my brother Sean, who may be a pain in the neck but has always believed in me. And to the rest of my family – from uncles to cousins to friends. I appreciate you being in my life.

  To my other half’s family, who have taken me in as one of their own. Leslie, Jay, Kate, Zane, Victoria, and Kaidyn – thank you for making me part of the family.

  To my friends from college – Ivy, Emily, Kim, Abby, and Emma – and high school – Amy, Emily, Blaine. I am who I am because of your friendship and love.

  To my friends Sharon and Maria. The best first co-workers a girl could have, who loved me despite my nerdiness.

  To Brad, my reading buddy. I hope you enjoy, even if it’s not your genre.

  To the many teachers in my life: Mr. Vieira, Mr. Dos Santos, Mrs. Kelley, CS, and Professor Buckman to name a few. I may not have ended up where I thought I would, but I wouldn’t have my insights, dedication, and work ethic without you.

  To my childhood dogs, Daisi and Gatsby, who have been my companions, my buddies, my best friends. Their kisses and cuddles (and sometimes growls) taught me unconditional love.

  To my cats, Kimchi and Mochi. My fur babies, who were by my side (and in my lap) while I wrote the dang thing! Thank you for letting me be your mom. Now please learn how to not chew through all my chargers.

  And last, but far from least, to my partner Nick. I couldn’t love anyone more. You have been my rock from day one. You inspire me to be my best self. My life changed for the better the day we decided to get ice cream together. Thank you for sharing in our nerdiness, listening to me, and being the greatest man and father ever. I love you, bubs.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bree Aguiar was born in Fall River, Massachusetts to a very large, Portuguese family. She graduated from Stonehill College in 2016 with a B.A. in Political Science (though she’s not exactly using that degree). Gatehouse is her debut novel, which she started after finding an obsession with YA and Adult Fantasy during quarantine. When she isn’t writing, she can be found cross-stitching, crocheting, baking, and watching Jeopardy. (She realizes these are typically not the interests of regular twenty-somethings but can’t help that these are her only hobbies.) She currently lives in New England with her partner, Nick, and their two cats, Kimchi and Mochi. Visit her website at breeaguiar.com.