by Kate Elliott
that eerily transformed into a dragon’s skull as tall as a house blocking a forest path with its bony jaws gaped wide open
and seen deep down the dark tunnel of its jaws a figure obscured by shadows crouched on a massive branch. As if hearing a cry, the faceless person scrambled down a rope ladder that descended past branches and more branches until it seemed only this vast tree existed in all the world
and the vision rippled again to gleam with a host of brightly armored knights as they spread shining wings and rose into the teeth of a mighty wind
but the dazzling beauty of the wings faded, sucked away until nothing was left except a spear so black it absorbed all light, all existence
A blast of wind-blown water whipped their faces with icy shards so sharp they had to shield their skin from its painful touch. The pool turned as still as if it had alchemized to solid metal. The air grew heavy, taut with anticipation that was as much threat as hope. Rowan grabbed Will’s arm, making ready to run, but the waters did not rise. Instead, the air within the arch sparkled with a pattern of lit threads woven with lightning swiftness in answer to Will’s visions.
A clearing spun into view. Its tangled backdrop of forest was instantly recognizable as the dense, dangerous landscape of the Wilds. At the center of the wide-open space rose a mound on which stood a pair of ivory obelisks carved with sigils too small to make out at this distance. The sun could be seen rising directly between them. Closer by, something large moved in the foliage, about to push past the leaves into the clearing.
At the base of the mound, illuminated by the sunlight, stood a magnificent stag.
“Find the stag and you will find your father,” said Indrelon.
The twins exchanged a baffled glance. The mirror went dark. Wavelets rushed over their boots with a force that tugged at their ankles. The path to the stairs was already awash. The shattering roar of the waterfall echoed around them as the pit began to fill. Rowan and Will splashed across the gap and raced up the long spiral of steps with waves chasing at their heels.
Indrelon had spoken. But the mirror’s answer left them only with more questions.
8
Unlike Vantress and Ardenvale with their many villages and towns, the border region of Garenbrig appeared desolate and uncultivated. The Wilds seemed close at hand, as if you could take one step off the walled road and immediately find yourself lost in the vast riddle of a sublime and perilous sanctuary.
Standing stones clustered in mysterious formations on hilltops. Ice-capped mountains rose in the distance. Seeing the rugged peaks reminded Rowan of the dragons above Castle Ardenvale. Had the beasts flown away, as Cado had predicted? Or was the castle still under magical attack weeks later? Was Erec beginning to forget their father because he’d been gone so long? Was Hazel getting into mischief without her older siblings to keep an eye on her? Would Mother ever take a moment of rest for herself?
Was there a secret about a witch’s hex their parents had never told them?
A warning whistle sounded from the sky where Cado and Hale were scouting, visible off toward the west.
“There!” said Titus, pointing to movement at the edge of the trees.
Three bulky figures raced toward them across a snow-blanketed field: knights mounted on bears who mauled their way through the thick snow. Rowan and the others readied their weapons, slowing to a cautious walk.
The Garenbrig knights approached at an aggressive pace. Dressed alike in mail coats covered with green tabards, they all wore their hair long: the leader’s black hair in box braids, the other man’s straw-blond hair flowing and loose, and the woman’s chestnut-colored hair fixed back in a single thick braid. A bird of prey rode on the woman’s shoulder, watching them with keen eyes.
The lead bear jumped easily over the road’s retaining wall and halted in the middle of the road, forcing their party to stop. The horses shifted skittishly as the bears snuffled, scenting prey animals, but Ardenvale mounts were too well trained to bolt.
“Travelers are not welcome. Best if you turn around and go home.” The knight was a large man who carried a hammer as tall as Rowan and so massive she was sure she could never lift it.
“This is not the hospitality for which Garenbrig is famous,” replied Elowen, earning her a sharp glance from the leader’s companions. “I am surprised to be greeted like this when we come on a quest of the greatest importance.”
The leader studied them with a scornful frown. “So you say. We’ve had too many troublesome visitors in recent months to believe the claims of every chance-met traveler.”
The woman bear-rider leaned over and whispered something to the ice-pale man, who shook his head but said to the leader, “Ask them what quest they are on, Bragi. Maybe—”
“We seek the High King,” Rowan burst out.
The knights laughed.
“Why do you mock us?” Rowan demanded. “Have you found the High King? Or are you too weak to look?”
“Ro!” Will kicked her.
Bragi hefted his hammer. “Do you mean to insult Garenbrig’s honor and strength, stripling?”
The man had a lot of nerve, stopping them on the road, doubting their purpose, and being affronted because of a problem caused by him! Rowan intended to retort, but Will kicked her again, in the very same spot on her shin. She shut her mouth and with gritted teeth nodded at her twin. Let him be the voice of reason!
“My sister meant no offense by her words,” said Will like the bootlicker he could so easily be when he used flattery to get his way. “We’ve had a difficult and lengthy journey from Castle Vantress. We are eager to reach the Great Henge and its portal, of which we have heard so many praiseworthy things.”
“Bragi! Aloft!” cried the woman, nocking an arrow to her longbow’s string.
Cado and Hale had veered back, flying fast.
“I know that griffin,” said Bragi. “Hold your places.”
Hale landed off the road, squawking once. The ears of Bragi’s bear cocked forward, while the other bears yawned and looked away.
Bragi dismounted at the same time as Cado and waited for the older knight to meet him on the road. They clasped forearms.
“Well met, Cado. Are you with these travelers?”
“Well met, Bragi. I am. Is there trouble that you block the road against a questing party?”
“All manner of trouble, honored friend. The Wilds plague us tenfold. They believe us weakened by the High King’s disappearance.”
“Then surely you should welcome a party of youthfully strong questers instead of provoking them,” remarked Elowen.
Cado peered at his friend’s face, examining him closely. “Are you well, Bragi? You seem agitated. That’s not like you.”
The man shook his head, his tone smoothing out under Cado’s regard. “We are currently saddled with an unpleasant persistence of Locthwain’s knights come to plague us at our midwinter revels.”
“Ah, I know you have no love for Locthwain, my friend. That explains why the castle flies above your hills.” Cado pointed to the west.
A bank of clouds had piled up behind the hills. With the wind blowing west, away from the road, the clouds should have been receding from them. Instead, the clouds bobbed against the wind like a boat pushing against the current. On that vast billow of cloud rose a magnificent castle.
“Locthwain!” exclaimed Will. He rubbed at his forehead.
Rowan, too, felt an ache above her eyes as if a memory were hammering at her skull from inside—someone, or something, from Locthwain, some memory trying to get out.
The castle sailed with slow majesty, as much ship as fortress, its central tower fluttering as with sails because of all the pennants affixed to its spires. Locthwain had been forced aloft long ago by the curse of having lost the embodiment of its precious virtue, the missing Cauldron of Eternity, never found even after many generations of searching by Locthwain’s persistent knights and others looking for healing and its fabled promise of immortality.
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br /> “Queen Ayara comes here every midwinter, does she not?” said Elowen, peering closely at Bragi as if sure he was about to lie to her. “She and King Yorvo celebrate the three feasts of midwinter together, though I’ve heard she’s never seen at the feast on Midwinter’s Night. Some say she goes into seclusion, in mourning for the ancient days when all the land was part of the Wilds. Others say it’s the one day of the year she sleeps.”
“Leaving her haughty knights poking their noses about Garenbrig,” said Bragi.
“A fair complaint,” said Elowen. “They’re an arrogant lot. But I favor the theory she’s scouting out new blood, if you take my meaning.”
“New blood?” Will asked.
She cackled. “She’ll be looking for a new consort to wed at Springtide. Best you stay out of her sight, Titus.”
Titus cast a long-suffering glance at Rowan, who rolled her eyes.
“That stripling?” Bragi laughed, making Titus flush. “But you are correct for once, loremage.”
“For once?” Elowen’s eyebrows shot up.
Cado laughed heartily and clapped Bragi on the shoulder. “A good shot, my friend.”
The bear-knight’s fleeting smile turned to a frown as he indicated his companions. “My sworn comrades, Alona and Roki, remember our fourth, the noble Vinsi, who succumbed to Queen Ayara’s charm when we were barely more than cubs. He married her, drunk on love, and swore to find the Cauldron of Eternity. Of course he never returned.”
The ice-pale man called Roki raised the poleaxe he carried. “He forged this blade himself, as a test of strength. We found it years later in the Wilds next to a skull-less collection of bones.”
“Just so you understand our antipathy,” added Bragi. “In fact, as I heard the story, she tried to marry Algenus when he was a young knight of Ardenvale.”
“She what?” Rowan asked as Will gaped.
Elowen said, too quickly, “To be fair, Queen Ayara goes through new consorts at a blistering pace. I would not call that one incident by itself damning.”
“She doesn’t like being told no,” said Bragi nastily. “Maybe she got tired of waiting for Linden to get old and die as we humans do, and so finally took Kenrith for herself.”
“Maybe she and King Yorvo have long conspired to destroy the Realm and return it to the days when their own kind ruled here,” retorted Elowen.
“You insult us!” snarled Bragi. “Why would we of Garenbrig wish to harm Algenus Kenrith, loremage? He has been a staunch ally.”
“The giants of Garenbrig threw off human kings long before you or I were born. Yorvo and his court might resent the High King’s rule and wish to unburden themselves of its weight.”
“Algenus Kenrith and Queen Linden have always been friends to Garenbrig. Can you say they have been as well respected and honored at the other courts, even their own?” Bragi noted Will’s grimace and added, “I thought not. Look elsewhere for your culprit. I suspect Ayara, for the reasons I’ve explained. But perhaps we should look more closely at Castle Vantress. You’d know better than I about the petty intrigues of loremages, would you not? The less at stake, the meaner they get.”
Elowen grinned. “You’ll not rile me, you and your intimidating bear. But it’s certain Queen Ayara has done much to rile you!”
“This is not helpful!” Cado placed himself between the loremage and the bear knight. They both took a step back as Hale screeched. “Bragi, will you let us pass?”
“I won’t block your path, Cado. King Yorvo will be glad to see you.”
“You’ll not come with us to seek the High King in the Wilds?” Cado asked. “I’d treasure the chance to ride another adventure beside you, old friend.”
“So would I, but we guard the border in these dark days. I’ll let King Yorvo know you’re coming.” He nodded at Alona, and she whispered into the ear of the hawk and loosed it to fly. “Let the cubs take their swords through the portal into the Wilds and see if they have the strength to survive.”
9
As they rode the winter road toward the Great Henge, Castle Locthwain remained in sight like a memory floating just out of reach. Every time Will looked at the castle an odd buzzy feeling hummed in his ears, but he didn’t know why and wished it would stop.
“Is it possible Queen Ayara is responsible for the High King’s disappearance?” he said to Elowen. “She’s had generations to foment rebellion, if that was her goal. It doesn’t make sense she would suddenly break her pact with the other rulers of the Realm right now.”
“Why not? I still say there’s something suspicious about her midwinter revels, something she’s hiding. Elves live so long they don’t see the world the same way we humans do. They don’t fear the withering of old age or the stalking feet of death. They can hold onto grudges for a long time, if you ask me. Be that as it may. She’ll be at the feast tonight, so you can ask her yourself.” Elowen snorted. “Just don’t seem too eager or you might end up becoming her next consort.”
Will glanced at Rowan, who nodded, then back to the loremage. “Did Queen Ayara really try to marry our father when he was young?”
For once, Elowen considered her answer for quite a while before replying. “I’ve heard the rumor, but I don’t know for sure.”
“There’s something you don’t know?” cried Rowan with a laugh.
“Hoo! That’s told me!” She glanced skyward where Cado and Hale has resumed scouting. “It is odd Cado claims he wasn’t with the High King that evening at Beckborough, when you two saw him with your own eyes. I hope Cado hasn’t been lying to us all along.”
Rowan stiffened.
Will said, carefully, “Why would Cado lie about that?”
“I always thought he had a bit of a fancy for Linden, back before Algenus won her heart with his courage, skill, and attractive laugh.”
“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” added Will in his coolest voice as ice prickled in his hands.
“My dear boy, I’m implying nothing. Linden turned a lot of heads back in the day, not that she cared about that sort of thing. She thought only about the High Quest. Single-minded. Not as sociable as Algenus. Then again, Linden wasn’t one of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was raised in a different canton of Ardenvale. You know that. She didn’t meet Algenus until they were both chosen by the Questing Beast.”
“So I suppose you knew Cado and the High King well?” Rowan said sarcastically.
“Did Cado not tell you I was one of the group who rode with Algenus in the early days? Before any of us earned our knighthoods?”
Rowan blinked.
Will was also taken aback. Not that he’d ever asked his parents or Cado about their early days, but still it surprised him how much he didn’t know. “He never mentioned you. But if it’s the case then I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned it twenty or thirty times.”
Elowen’s cackling laugh burst out. She liked nothing better than people being snippy with her, except reminding her companions of how knowledgeable she was. “When I first met Algenus Kenrith he wasn’t any older than you are, young Will. Milk-skinned, scrawny, and beardless, just like you.”
Will tried to imagine his parents setting out from their homes, untried, eager, and raw about the edges, but all he could see was his father presiding in splendor as all about him cheered and the way his mother’s stern but loving authority made people feel secure.
“That’s the mistake people make,” mused Elowen as if to herself. A breeze swirled around the riders with a breath of alluring warmth amid winter’s chill. “They say what’s past is past. But the past doesn’t die. It grows like rot beneath a fallen log that’s never been overturned.”
Afterward. remarkably, she fell silent.
* * *
—
Even knowing what to expect, Will’s first sight of the Great Henge stunned him.
A huge stone outcropping jutted out over the valley’s lower ground. Its southern end was r
ooted to the earth by stone and massive tree trunks, while the northern portion extended like a roof over flat earth beneath. A monolith too large even for giants to move had fallen to rest at an angle against the fixed end of the outcropping, like a ramp to the sky broken violently off. Trees tangled their way partway up the stone’s slope. Atop the outcropping stood the Great Henge and its portal.
Monoliths of ordinary size had been set up in concentric circles around the base of the outcropping. The valley itself was verdant with stone-walled orchards and winter-fallow gardens. Incised menhirs had been erected in circles, rows, and as isolated singletons throughout, like guardians. Bold mountains formed a backdrop.
An honor guard of eight elderly knights waited at the head of a long, straight avenue lined by standing stones. They accompanied the party to the shadow of the Henge, drawn long as twilight descended over the valley. On packed earth beneath the towering rock, people were wrestling, dragging stones, and holding weights above their heads without moving.
A steward came forward to greet them. “Let me show you to your quarters.”
“Aren’t the guest quarters through that arch?” Elowen asked as the man led them to a different opening.
The steward pulled a face, quickly covered with a bland smile. “Those quarters are filled with the entourage from Locthwain accompanying Queen Ayara. King Yorvo wishes the young people to bide closer to his abode. This way.”
The palace was a warren of rooms built into roots and rocks, paths worn into the stone floors by the uncountable footfalls of generations of inhabitants. They heard a distant buzz of conversation but saw no one as the steward led them deep into the palace interior. Their rooms were a modest human-sized suite of sleeping quarters situated around a snow-dappled courtyard and an adjoining parlor with a brightly burning hearth.
After washing, they were shown into an audience chamber. King Yorvo awaited them, alone. Even sitting, he loomed above them. With a single slam of his hand he could crush their puny bodies. But he opened his hands in greeting and welcomed their entrance with a hearty smile.