The Quickening

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘What now?’ Aremys finally said.

  ‘Like you said, I must find Myrren’s father.’

  Aremys sipped and nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking…’

  ‘Dangerous,’ Wyl commented and returned the relieved grin that played around his friend’s mouth. Perhaps they would survive this.

  ‘You cannot travel alone.’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t want to sleep with Ylena as well!’ he said in mock horror.

  The bear-like man’s amusement rumbled deep in his throat. It was reassuring to hear mirth after so much ugliness. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say no, of course, if you’re offering…’ He caught Wyl’s glare on Ylena’s lovely face. ‘I think you need a companion, is what I meant.’

  ‘You don’t think I can take care of myself in this guise?’

  ‘I know you can, but you will still be a target. If I were to travel with you, it would prevent the interest that might be levelled at a young noblewoman abroad alone.’

  Wyl considered it. Aremys was right, and even though he had already made plans to begin his search alone he might well be vulnerable as Ylena. And in truth, he could use the quiet company of the big man.

  ‘I agree,’ he finally replied.

  Aremys looked up in surprise from his tea. ‘What, not even going to fight me on it? Throw some knives at me or something?’

  ‘No. You’re definitely right. I don’t have time for the obstacle of unhealthy interest some might take.’

  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ Aremys growled, relieved. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I had a dream last night.’

  ‘Oh?’ his friend said, lifting an eyebrow.

  ‘A vision perhaps.’ Wyl sighed and pulled at his ear. Aremys had seen this identical, almost nervous habit when he was Faryl and assumed he may well have displayed the same habit as Koreldy since it was probably Wyl Thirsk’s trait. That felt reassuring for some reason.

  ‘There’s been too much talk of magic, I know, but this was real… It felt that way, at least.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Aremys said.

  ‘A voice — the manwitch — told me to go where no one else dares go.’

  ‘Well, that’s certainly specific. We’ll find him easily then.’

  Wyl gave him a gentle glare. ‘It’s what I was told.’

  ‘All right, where could that be?’

  ‘Across the ocean?’ Wyl hazarded.

  ‘Which one?’

  Wyl shrugged. ‘All right, the Razors. Most wouldn’t think to be heading into the mountains, especially not in this climate with war brewing.’

  ‘And it was definitely a man’s voice?’

  Wyl nodded. ‘His accent didn’t suggest he was a northerner, if that’s what you’re getting around to. He sounded Morgravian if anything — like I used to. A southerner.’

  ‘For a Morgravian, Briavel would be somewhere not to trespass.’

  ‘Except there’s been trade between the realms for many years now.’ Wyl shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think it’s Briavel.’

  Aremys stood and stretched. ‘Well, there’s always the Wild.’

  ‘The Wild? To the east of Briavel, you mean? There’s nothing there, is there?’

  ‘How do you know? None of us have visited.’

  ‘But isn’t it supposed to have some curse on it?’ Wyl added. ‘They say you can’t return from it.’

  Aremys nodded slyly. ‘They say it’s enchanted. Sounds exactly like the sort of place cursed people would go.’

  ‘That’s not funny,’ Wyl bristled.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ his companion said evenly. ‘Sounds like a neat match to me though — an enchanted place where a manwitch might live.’

  Wyl closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to find some sense of ease. ‘Well, I have no better idea.’

  ‘Then we’ll go take a look.’

  ‘How do we get there?’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere without me,’ Elspyth said from the doorway. She shrugged at them. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I heard voices.’ Then she hesitated, looking at Wyl, emotions marching across her face unconcealed.

  Wyl walked around the scrubbed table and hugged his good friend. She wept a little but he had finished with tears; his eyes remained dry.

  ‘Don’t cry, Elspyth. We do them no good with tears.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘This is all my fault though. I hate myself. I should have stayed quiet, should have kept your secret —’

  He hushed her mouth with his soft female hand. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘It’s just so much sadness rolling into one huge sorrow,’ she admitted.

  He hugged her hard again, wanted her to accept his forgiveness. ‘Did anyone bother to introduce you to my friend Aremys, by the way? He knows everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Aremys, we met under difficult circumstances,’ she said, holding out her hand and remembering it covered with blood only hours earlier.

  The big man took her small hand in his and squeezed gently. ‘I understand from Wyl how lucky he is to have you for a friend,’ he said, pleasing her with his gentle words, ‘even though you are a blabbermouth.’ A look of hurt crossed Elspyth’s face.

  ‘Take no notice,’ Wyl assured. ‘Aremys loves to tease.’

  She narrowed her eyes towards the big man, saw the levity in his expression and accepted the jest. ‘May I have some of that?’ she said, nodding towards his tea.

  ‘Surely,’ Aremys said, smiling back to reassure her that he had not meant to hurt. He was glad to busy himself once again.

  ‘So where are you going now?’ Elspyth asked the angelic-looking woman before her, an accusing tone in her voice.

  ‘I have to find Myrren’s real father, Elspyth, before I can tackle anything. I have to know more about this magic within me.’

  ‘I understand,’ she replied tightly.

  ‘It does not change the oath I swore to you. I will return to the Razors and find him.’

  ‘He spoke to me, Wyl,’ she said, a tremor in her voice from remembering his anguish. ‘There was pain and darkness around him. He was frightened. There was someone else too but I couldn’t see him — or perhaps her.’ She shrugged. ‘There was magic somewhere, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Elspyth’s words had jogged Wyl’s own memory of the dark dream he had experienced during the night.

  ‘He called to me,’ she said, wistfully.

  ‘That’s all?’

  She frowned in thought. ‘No. There was more. He said something like: Tell Romen I will wait. And then he added something strange, cryptic — I can’t fathom it.’

  ‘Go on,’ Wyl urged.

  ‘He said to tell you that he is no longer as you would expect.’ She watched Ylena’s face frown, which did nothing to detract from her prettiness.

  ‘That’s it?’ Wyl said.

  ‘Mmm,’ she nodded, smiling fleetingly in thanks to Aremys who set the tea down before her. ‘What could that mean?’

  Wyl stood gracefully and began to pace. If the two others in the room had known Fergys Thirsk, they would have realised Wyl had caught his father’s habit of movement when in thought. ‘I have no idea, but strangely I too dreamed tonight… well, I think I did. You’ve just reminded me of it. I don’t know who spoke to me but whoever it was seemed to be in terrible pain, screaming for deliverance from it. A man.’

  ‘He’s torturing him,’ she said bleakly.

  They both knew the torturer she referred to.

  ‘If he’s trying to reach us, then at least we know he’s alive,’ Wyl reassured.

  Aremys joined them at the table. ‘Is this the Lothryn you have spoken of?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘I have never given up on the hope that Cailech would keep him alive,’ Wyl said.

  ‘But you also believed torture would not be enough for Cailech — not his style, you said,’ Elspyth countered.

  ‘That’s true. The pain could be something else, of course.’

/>   ‘Like what?’ Aremys queried.

  ‘Magic,’ Elspyth murmured.

  Wyl shot a glance towards her; he had not wanted to say it himself.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, angry now as she allowed the thought to take shape. ‘Cailech has that evil Rashlyn hovering around him. Isn’t he a practitioner of magic? Just looking at his wild appearance and mad eyes made me go cold.’

  ‘Amongst other nasty things, yes,’ Wyl admitted. He drained his mug. ‘I don’t want you rushing off into the Razors on your own, Elspyth. I know it’s crossed your mind,’ he added.

  She blushed. ‘I cannot sit by and do nothing.’

  ‘Cailech will kill you. No parley, no niceties at all. Trust me on this.’

  ‘And you would know?’

  Wyl nodded, wondering at the tension between them. It had felt different when he was Koreldy, more comfortable. Elspyth would probably have felt less awkward if he had changed again into a man rather than this fragile beauty who was his sister. ‘Yes, I do. Cailech is ruthless. He will have you killed on sight.’

  ‘So what makes you think you can get through his defences, Wyl Thirsk?’

  ‘Because I am no longer Romen Koreldy, that’s why. How intimidating do I look, Elspyth, with my long golden tresses, my silk gown and soft hands?’

  Understanding dawned on her face and acceptance that she really had to stop seeing the woman and appreciate the man’s struggle inside. ‘Of course. He will not know you at all.’

  ‘It’s our only weapon. Be patient… trust Lothryn to hang on.’

  Aleda swept into the kitchen. ‘I heard voices,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘No matter the hour, let’s get some food going. How are you, my dear?’ she added, looking in her kind way at Wyl.

  ‘Stronger, thank you,’ he admitted and she smiled back at him.

  ‘That’s the Thirsk in you, child. I told Jeryb you’d find your grit before morning.’

  Wyl stood alone with the duke. Ylena’s femininity had been diluted with riding trews and her hair pulled back sternly into a single plait. Try though he might, he could not make her feel as masculine as Faryl. It was impossible to hide her ethereal beauty nor make her movements any less elegant. It pained him on a number of levels but he would just have to get used to being Ylena.

  Aleda had given Wyl a purse — it was a small fortune. ‘Buy yourself some clothes and provisions. You must keep up the noble guise,’ she had said. ‘Forgive us all that has happened, Wyl. I feel somehow responsible.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he had assured, wanting to refuse the money. He knew he could visit any one of many hides he remembered from Faryl’s memories. However, he realised Aleda was trying to help in the only practical way she could right now and so he had accepted her gift with grace.

  ‘You have been a rock of strength, Aleda,’ he had said as he hugged her goodbye. ‘Thank you for believing in me amongst all this nonsensical magic.’

  ‘You are living proof of it, son. I shall struggle to make sense of it in weeks to come, I am sure. In the meantime, I trust you now to keep your promise and help us take revenge for Alyd and Ylena.’ These were her final words before she left him with her husband. No tears; Aleda was the bedrock of the family and she would not succumb to emotion when there was a fight to be fought.

  ‘Crys will see her safely to the border,’ the duke said now, nodding towards Elspyth who sat talking with Pil.

  ‘I know she will be safe once she crosses into Briavel,’ Wyl replied.

  Crys strolled up. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take Elspyth all the way to Werryl?’ he offered.

  Wyl shook his head. ‘No. Too many spies, Crys. Your family cannot risk being linked to Briavel openly. Just see her safely to the border. The letter I’ve given her will take care of the rest.’

  Crys nodded. ‘Shar keep you safe.’

  ‘Perhaps we need a password… er, just in case the curse happens again,’ Jeryb suggested.

  Wyl held the duke’s gaze. He was right of course. ‘What would suit you, sir?’

  The tall man looked towards the sky in thought. ‘Carving knife — innocuous enough and I am sure none of us could forget that.’

  ‘I know I won’t, sir,’ Wyl said, eyes darkening at the memory.

  The old man shook his head. ‘After all these years of fighting… now Felrawthy conspires with the enemy.’ His voice was thick.

  ‘Briavel is not the enemy, my lord,’ Wyl reassured. ‘Our own King is the enemy. Valentyna and Briavel are our only allies.’

  ‘Fergys Thirsk would turn in his tomb,’ the duke said, disgusted.

  ‘No, sir, he would not. My father would agree with our strategy.’

  ‘Are you quite sure of that?’

  ‘As sure as I stand here.’ They both smiled wryly at the comment. ‘Everyone has agreed on the story then. Ylena was not here, and although Faryl visited she left immediately. It keeps Tenterdyn free of suspicion. In the meantime, you must not give Celimus any hint that you are no longer loyal to him. I know you are expecting your mustered men soon, and no doubt others from the border, but make an excuse if questions are asked. Whatever lies he tells you, sir, accept them for what they are. Show him nothing — no emotion. He will surely concoct some fabrication for the disappearance of your son.’

  ‘Why can’t I just kill him?’ The duke’s voice cracked with the emotion powering his question.

  ‘Because you or whoever you give the job to, sir, will never get out of Stoneheart alive. Legionnaires are sworn to die for their King… and they will. You and your family will be tracked down and slaughtered, and then he will go after your men. Please believe me when I say he is ruthless. You have no idea of his ambition, sir — you have been away from the capital for too long.’

  ‘Fighting the Crown’s battles!’ the duke growled but his voice had no bite to it.

  Wyl continued. ‘He has amassed a private guard of mercenaries too — he is well protected. No, duke, trust my counsel that it is far better you play Celimus at his own game. I have much less to lose than you: leave the killing to me.’

  ‘So I must sit tight and not raise my hand.’

  ‘As we agreed this morning, sir. Assemble a guard around Tenterdyn by all means but keep it as innocent-looking as possible. Parley with the King. See what he has to say. And if you can infiltrate the Legion in the meantime and spread the word, all the better. Work out who is loyal to our cause. And, sir, beware of Cailech. He is unpredictable and far stronger than most of us have realised.’

  ‘You really believe he will raid Morgravia?’

  ‘Not yet. But he is capable of anything. Be warned: he is cunning and highly intelligent. He will not do anything obvious — perhaps he may not do anything at all — but you need to keep your men alert. In fact, you might use Cailech as your excuse for assembling men at Felrawthy. Celimus will agree with that.’

  ‘And I should offer my services to the King?’ Jeryb said as though tasting something bitter.

  ‘Reinforce your services to him. It will throw him off your scent, sir.’

  The old man sighed, heavy with his troubles. ‘What happened to good old-fashioned war?’

  Wyl extended his sister’s milky white hand. ‘We fight a different war now, sir. We do it with intrigue… and magic.’

  Jeryb grimaced. ‘Shar’s guidance over you and your strange, impossible life, Wyl,’ the duke said. ‘I shall wait for word.’

  ‘Be strong, sir,’ Wyl said, feeling the old man’s need for revenge. ‘You shall hear from me.’

  Wyl crossed the elegant courtyard with its large pots of winterberry bushes making bright splashes of colour against the deep-coloured stone. It reminded him of Stoneheart. He went to where Elspyth stood by her horse. The duke had provided all of his guests with good horses for their various journeys.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked as he drew close.

  She nodded. ‘Angry.’

  ‘I will get word to you.’

  ‘You know I wan
t to head back to Yentro.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me. I know you want to go straight into the Razors.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘You don’t own me, Wyl. I shall do as I please if it comes to it. I feel sick over what’s happened to you, but you are going your own way — where you know you must. What about me?’

  He bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, Elspyth, you’re right. I don’t want to talk about last night again. I can’t fix what’s happened — not yet anyway — and I lay no blame. But I cannot lose you too. Don’t you see: this is about keeping you safe, not ignoring your needs.’

  ‘And Briavel is all you can offer?’

  ‘For now, yes. It’s important. Important for your safety and important for our cause. You want Celimus to pay — so do this. Go to Valentyna and live under her protection. I will come to you there and then we can work out what we’re going to do about Lothryn.’

  Elspyth glared, knowing what he said made sense but hating him momentarily for being right and for caring about her. Too few people had cared for her as much as he did. ‘And I can tell the Queen nothing of you?’

  ‘Nothing! And you need to keep my secret this time. She won’t understand anyway. Just be her friend, if she permits it. You know what to say. You’ll be safe there, until I come for you.’

  ‘You will come?’ She took his arm to reinforce her query.

  Wyl nodded, feeling Ylena’s plait bounce at his back. ‘I promise you. It seems I cannot die, no matter how hard I try,’ he said half jokingly, but there was too much grief in his tone for Elspyth to smile. ‘Not yet anyway,’ he added and squeezed her shoulder.

  He looked now to Pil. ‘In all the whirl and drama of last night I did not get the chance to thank you for all you have done for our family.’

  Pil regarded him shyly. ‘I wish I had done so much more, kept her safe.’

  Wyl took the young novice’s hand. ‘You did plenty. I was the one who failed her, not you.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ Pil admitted. ‘You were Koreldy when he came to Rittylworth?’ he asked, unable to let the topic rest.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Forgive me for the duplicity.’

  Pil shook his head. ‘I thought he was different. I was much younger of course when he first came to us so I put it down to me being more grown-up, seeing him through adult eyes.’