The Wayfarer King

by K. C. May

  “Everyone, come inside,” Feanna cried. Little by little the voices outside quieted as people ambled to the cottage’s doorway to see what was going on. She stood and beckoned them with her other hand. “Touch me. We must help Gavin. Share your good feelings with me.” GJ came over and put his hand in hers, followed by Jaesh and Tansa. From Feanna flowed their gladness, relief and love. Twelve adults and seven children clustered around her, squeezing together as they lay their hands on her arm, shoulders, back and head. Everyone was laughing and talking, thrilled to be alive, happy to have won.

  Their feelings flowed through Feanna, through Daia, and into Ritol.

  Daia felt a jerk in her gut. The connection with Ritol was severed.

  When Gavin regained consciousness, Ritol was standing over him like a statue, poised with its claws ready to grab him and rip him into two pieces. He rolled out from under it and staggered to his feet. With his hidden eye, he saw Daia’s orange tendril connected to Ritol’s haze, force-feeding it sparkling crystals like what Feanna had done earlier. He didn’t know what the crystals were, or what they would do to him, but it was his only chance. He snatched up Aldras Gar and seized Daia’s power for himself.

  Love, peace and excitement filled him. Immediately, all these feelings flooded him and more. His heart was filled with serenity, respect, gratitude and gladness. The emotions empowered him. He gripped Daia’s tendril harder, entwined his haze around it, and fed.

  Ritol raised its arm to bat at him again. Connected to Daia, Gavin overpowered the soul-sucking force of the beyonders’ realm. He shoved a wave of repelling power down his sword arm. Aldras Gar magnified it as it shot out the end. It lifted Ritol from its feet and hurled it two dozen paces backward. To the north, a cloud of dust rose from the ground as dozens of beyonders raced toward him, hungry for his death.

  Time to go, he thought. He opened a vortex, waited a few seconds for it to cycle to blue, and dove through it head first.

  Chapter 49

  Gavin tucked and rolled, dimly aware of the pain upon impact with the ground. He slammed into a wall — a crumbling burnt wall of plaster and wood. Home. The sounds of laughter and voices echoed off the buildings and rocks of the nearby mountain slope. He lay for a minute on the ground amid the rocks and debris to let his healing magic repair his most painful injuries, and to catch his breath. He’d done it. He banished Ritol back to its realm and escaped with his life and the magic of Wayfarer intact.

  And he’d saved Arek. Perhaps not from the injuries that had killed him, but he’d saved his king from death by Ritol’s claws. He took a moment to wrap his thoughts around these facts. It was over.

  He slowly stood and made his way toward the sounds of celebration. Rounding the corner of a house, he saw them exiting a cottage. The children began reenacting the battle, taking turns being Adro, Feanna, Daia and the monster. The adults were congratulating Adro. They were alive. Liera and his nephews had survived. The orphans were unhurt. Even Adro, who’d run into the cottage and foolishly engaged Ritol, looked none the worse for wear. Gavin’s heart started to drop as he searched the crowd for Feanna.

  She came out and looked around, followed by Daia. Gavin slowed, taking in the sight of her. Alive. Unharmed. Looking for him. She and Daia saw him before the others did.

  Feanna picked up her skirts and ran toward him. “Gavin!”

  He hurried his pace, though still limping from the injury to his knee. In moments, she was in his arms. He buried his face in her neck, her soft hair, and breathed in her scent. They said nothing at first, just held each other. Then he realized her love for those children was ultimately what had saved him. He held her tighter and knew he could have no other as his bride.

  When the others gathered around, Gavin moved Feanna to his left, though he still clutched her protectively against him with his arm around her waist. The front of her dress was wet from where she’d pressed against him, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Edan approached first. Gavin offered his hand, but Edan gave him a brotherly embrace instead. “Gav,” he said, his voice thick. “Damn am I glad to see you.”

  “Ravenkind?” Gavin asked.

  “Dead. Ritol took care of him for us.”

  Gavin laughed with both gladness and relief. “A fitting end.”

  Edan handed him a round, flat stone with the rune Whemorard carved on one side. “Found this near his body.” Gavin nodded his thanks and dropped it into his coin pouch with the other. As soon as he got the chance, he’d pound both into dust.

  Liera hugged him fiercely and kissed his cheek. She didn’t say anything. Her bloodshot eyes, filled with tears, said it all. He hugged his nephews and Feanna’s children and checked them over, satisfied they’d been unhurt.

  Tennara, Galiveth and the other swordswomen shook his hand in turn, welcoming him back. They probably didn’t know what part he’d played, but he looked as beat up as he felt.

  “Good of you to join us, Gavin,” Adro said. “You look like you’ve been in a tavern brawl.”

  Gavin snorted. He’d never known Adro to bank a fire with someone else’s hands, but now he seemed to wear the hero’s mantle as he looked down upon Gavin, even while looking up.

  “Adro saved us from the monster,” Iriel informed him.

  “Is that so?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeh. He slain it and sent its arse back to hell.”

  “Iriel!” Feanna said.

  Gavin caught Daia’s eye and gave a tiny shake of his head, warning her not to correct the child. Not yet. Adro’s intervention had possibly saved their lives, and he wouldn’t strip the man of his glory in front of the others.

  Daia stepped through the crowd, now refocused on Adro and his heroism, and offered her hand. “My thanks, Kinshield.”

  He gripped it tightly. “No, my thanks to you. Without you...” He looked at Feanna beside him. “...without both o’you, I’d prob’ly be dead. We all would.” With a chuckle, he added, “I seem to remember saying those same words a few weeks ago.”

  Daia bowed her head at Feanna. “This time, I had help.”

  While those who’d been taken prisoner claimed their horses from the pen behind the cottage, Gavin went inside to confirm with his own eyes that Ravenkind was dead.

  In the cottage was a horrific scene. The body of a dark-haired swordswoman lay against the wall near the door. Both Dona and Nasharla were dead from a mortal stab wound, their corpses jumbled near the northern wall. Ravenkind’s body, covered in blood, lay twisted and lifeless in a corner not far from a red-headed swordsman. None had a haze — except the swordswoman by the door.

  Her haze was unlike any he’d seen before. It had a vicious darkness about it, like a beyonder’s haze but without the indescribable other-worldly quality. It hovered around her body as if refusing to give up. He put a finger to her neck and felt a slow, weak pulse. She wasn’t one of his fighters, but her face looked familiar. A leather thong circled her neck and disappeared under her tunic. He fished it out. On the end was a black onyx like the one in the ring Ravenkind had used to control the Viragon Sisterhood. He wondered whether the magic of the necklace had saved her from Ritol — or darkened her haze. Gavin tossed her weapons aside, settled onto his knees, and healed her injuries.

  Cirang opened her eyes and blinked a few times as if to clear her vision. She flinched when she met Gavin’s eyes. “You!”

  He stood and hauled her to her feet by the upper arm. “You can thank me later. Now, you’re going to gaol.” He took her outside and called for Hennah and Vandra to bind Cirang’s wrists and take her to the lordover’s gaol. Then he told Tennara and Ragetha to bring Dona and Nasharla so they could get a proper burial.

  Daia jogged over. “Cirang’s alive? We thought Ritol killed her.”

  “She was badly injured but alive. Who is she?”

  Daia glared at Cirang as the two battlers escorted her past, bound to the saddle of a horse. “She forsook the Sisterhood when you freed the other Sisters from Ravenkind’
s magic. She used her former allegiance with the Sisterhood to lure your brother and everyone else here. She murdered one of my fellow Sisters and framed me for it, and she undoubtedly had a hand in the deaths of your brother and cousin.”

  “Did you see her kill anyone?”

  “Well, no.”

  “She’s wearing Ravenkind’s necklace. Maybe she was under his influence like the others were. I’ll let her explain herself before I judge and sentence her.” He watched Cirang ride off, wondering why the smirk on her face looked so familiar.

  Gavin searched the cottage’s cellar for a blanket, which he used to wrap Rogan’s stiff body. He put his brother on his brown draft horse and went to Liera.

  “Jaesh,” he called. “Asia, GJ. Come here a minute.”

  The boys jogged over, and Gavin put his arm around Jaesh’s shoulder and Asiawyth’s, but he looked at Liera. “I’m sorry about what I did, letting Rogan die.”

  “You didn’t—” Liera started.

  “I did. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. If I’d killed Ravenkind straight away, none o’this would’ve happened. I thought I could put him off for a bit longer, but I was wrong, and you suffered for it.” He looked each of them in the eye. “I can’t take his place as your father or your husband, but I got a place for you to live. I’ll see to your needs and make sure you live at least as well as you would’ve if Rogan hadn’t been slain.”

  “You mean we could live with you in the palace?” Asiawyth asked.

  “Yeh, that’s what I mean. If you want to. If you’d rather go back to Saliria, that’s fine too. Whatever you want. I’ll provide for you.”

  Liera nodded. “Let’s take time to think about it, boys. We don’t have to decide right away.”

  Gavin scratched his temple. He was hoping they wouldn’t take too long to decide. “We need to bury Rogan. If you want to return to Saliria, we’ll bury him there so you can visit his grave whenever you want. Otherwise, we can bury him in Tern.” They had to get the rest of him from the inn, but they needed to inter him soon. With the weather as warm as it had been, the decomposition process would be fairly quick, and he would begin to smell. “I don’t want to rush you, but it’s best if that decision isn’t delayed too long.”

  “Let’s bury him in Tern,” Liera said. When her voice caught in her throat, she put a hand to her mouth. A pair of tears dribbled from her eyes. Jaesh put his arm around her. “Bury him here so we’ll always be close to him.” The five of them collapsed into a circle embrace. Liera and the boys shed tears. Gavin cried on the inside.

  With the smaller children riding double with an adult, they formed a procession to the Elegance Inn, where Tennara ran in to retrieve the crate containing Rogan’s head. They hitched Feanna’s wagon to Nellie, and a relieved Trevick joined them as the group continued to the cemetery. Between them, they barely had enough money to pay for a grave plot, but after Edan had a private conversation with the sexton, the cost was reduced to a single pielar, which GJ insisted on paying himself. Tennara likewise paid for two graves for the fallen Sisters.

  Gavin took the shovel from the gravedigger and began digging. Daia asked for another and Edan another, and together they dug Rogan’s grave. The Sisters offered to take over, but this was Gavin’s responsibility. He wouldn’t stand around and watch while someone else buried his brother. He accepted help from Edan and Daia because they were friends, and because the job went faster with their help. The Sisters borrowed the last two shovels and dug graves for Dona and Nasharla.

  The sexton donated plain caskets and a temporary grave marker, which Gavin intended to replace later with something Liera and the boys picked out. For now, it would do.

  He and Daia laid Rogan into the wooden casket, and Gavin positioned his head where it belonged, then draped the blanket over him to hide the neck wound. One by one, they said good-bye to Rogan, and Gavin nailed the lid onto the coffin. Using ropes beneath the box, they lowered it carefully into the ground.

  Gavin stood over the grave, looking down at the plain wooden box, dusted with crumbs of dirt. He cleared his tight throat. “My brother left a lot undone...” His voice was quiet and strained. “...and things he never had a chance to begin. I’ll continue what he started — to see his boys grown into men. I promise.”

  His throat choked off his words, and he couldn’t deliver the eulogy he wanted. Edan, the ever-present shoulder for him to lean upon, spoke to the group about what Rogan had meant to them as a husband, father, brother and friend. At last, they began to fill the hole. With each shovelful of dirt Gavin tossed on Rogan’s coffin, his heart shattered into ever smaller pieces. He wished he could share an ale with his brother once more and talk about what Rogan wanted for his family, what he hoped to see his sons accomplish before he died.

  Maybe someday he would.

  Everyone crowded around the dining tables at the Elegance Inn, pushed end to end to accommodate them as they ate their fill. Though the mood was somber, they took a collective breath and turned to the future. They each told their stories — how they ended up at the cottage and what happened while they were there.

  Gavin began his story when he left to save Arek. When he described how he’d used the rune to summon Ritol, Adro bent his head. Had they been alone, Gavin would have teased him for having exaggerated his own heroism, but he wouldn’t shame the buck in front of everyone. He continued the story to when he found his way home again.

  To his credit, Adro raised his glass to Gavin. “Outside of this room, I won’t admit it,” he said, “but I blinked just when my sword was about to strike the monster. When it vanished, I thought I hit it so hard that it fled back to hell.” Everyone laughed. “The truth makes more sense, though. A toast to our king. The man with hero’s blood.”

  Gavin looked out the windows at the people going about their lives in the warmth of the afternoon sun, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Though he had a lifetime of anxiety yet to suffer, the task that had plagued him for so long was finished. He was too relieved to feel apprehensive about assuming his role as king. In fact, part of him was excited to start rebuilding the country and improving people’s lives. “Who wants to come with me to explore the palace?”

  At once, the room erupted in a chorus of “I do!” and “Me!” Chairs scraped on the slate floor as everyone rose, ready to see the inside of a building no living person had ever entered — except, of course, for Gavin.

  Feanna rode atop Golam on Gavin’s lap, snuggled against him. He imagined they made quite a sight as they began their pilgrimage from the inn to the palace. People stopped to watch, no doubt wondering what was going on. Several of the lordover’s soldiers joined them as well, perhaps to see what they were up to and intervene in any mischief.

  The bridge from Regal Street to the island was rotted and impassable. They crossed through the water on horseback, lifting their feet to keep them dry. They made several trips to retrieve everyone in the wagon and gathered around the gate. The heavy lock on the gate was old and rusted. The key Daia had given him from Rogan’s old chest didn’t budge it, and hitting it with Aldras Gar had no effect.

  A crowd was gathering on the other shore. People murmured about what they were doing. Some speculated whether one of them could be the king.

  The Lordover Tern rode up, flanked by several soldiers, and parted the crowd.

  “Perhaps you’re looking for this?” Celónd asked. He held up a key.

  Gavin groaned, wondering what he would have to do to get it. To his surprise, Celónd handed the key to a soldier who then led his horse into the lake and across to the island. Everyone moved aside for him. With a few wiggles of the key, the lock clicked open. He removed it from the iron bars of the gate, and Gavin pushed the gate open with a rusty squeal. There was no spark or ripple in the air to signify the barrier was gone. It simply was.

  They left the horses to graze on the overgrown grass and weeds while they walked up the crumbling path to the front doors. It wasn’t the same vision he�
�d had the day before when he’d walked this path to the grand entrance, but in his mind’s eye, he could see the wood polished, the grounds manicured, the windows sparkling as they had in happier times. With some care and work, the palace would return to its former magnificence.

  He pulled open the double doors. The scene that greeted him nearly broke his heart — the chandelier lying mangled on the floor, the banisters of the twin staircase in splinters, doors ripped from their hinges, furniture and rugs shredded, glass shattered. As his companions stepped carefully around the debris on the floor, Gavin caught GJ by the shirt and handed him the ornate key. “See if this opens anything.” The boy smiled brightly and dashed off. “And be careful not to trip over anything.” Gavin took it all in, shaking his head. “King Arek would be devastated to see it like this.”

  Feanna placed a comforting hand on his chest. “With a little toil and oil, it’ll be beautiful. You’ll see.”

  “As long as you’re in it.” Gavin knew this wasn’t the most romantic time or place, but the hope in her eyes and warmth of her touch inspired him to fall to one knee. “Being king is something I got to do, but there’s no other woman I’d rather have as my wife. It’s prob’ly not the life you dreamed o’living, but maybe together, it’ll be easier for us both to bear.” He took her hand. “Feanna, will you marry me?”

  Being king was Gavin’s fate, but Feanna didn’t have to become queen. She could return to her farm, perhaps accept her neighbor Harv’s courtship and marry him, have a baby or two, but she wouldn’t be fulfilled emotionally. Life with Gavin would undoubtedly be harder, but it would be fulfilling. There was no question in her mind that he would accept and love her adopted children and that he would give her more. He would love her, truly love her, and that was what she wanted more than anything.