The Complete Duology

by M H Woodscourt

  Gwyn offered a smile. “It certainly has. Don’t worry, I meant it when I said I wasn’t offended. Besides that, nothing he said was untrue.”

  Nathaera held his gaze. “Are you certain you’re fourteen, Gwynter? You don’t behave like any fourteen-year-old boy I’ve met.”

  He chuckled. “That’s only true when I’m surrounded by imminent peril in a dark wood. It tends to sober even the most reckless and lighthearted souls.”

  “I suppose there’s some truth in that.” She glanced at the gem. “You know, when we were in that chamber back in Swan Castle, I really felt like you were meant to have this. Like it did choose you. It’s strange, I know, and I’m not certain if I should say so, what with the Crow King’s edict about magic. But it felt good, and…well, like it wanted to help you. If that’s the case, Gwyn; if magic does want you to have it, to use it, isn’t that a sign that your brother is still alive?”

  Gwyn blinked. His smile grew deeper. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I believe I am.” She took his wrist and squeezed it. “I’ll pray to Afallon for protection, both for us and for Lawen.” She released him and stood, smoothed her stained skirt, and motioned toward the encampment. “I’d best go back, in case Windsur stirs. I doubt he’d appreciate waking to an empty camp, after everything.”

  Gwyn nodded. “I’ll return shortly.”

  She retreated, footfalls soft in the leaf mold.

  Chapter 12

  Despite a full night’s rest, Windsur’s mood didn’t improve. On top of that, Aluem’s pace slowed even more. Gwyn glanced with dismay at the canopy of trees overhead, wondering how they could possibly reach Vinwen before Lawen ran out of time. Nathaera seemed to sense his growing anxiety, sending him encouraging smiles. He answered in kind, but his anxiety only grew until his head ached.

  Windsur insisted on stopping to rest more than once, and though Gwyn hated to comply, he worried about Aluem’s condition and relented.

  When the company stopped to sup around midday, he leaned against a tree trunk and let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes. The rustle of a nearby brush jolted him forward. He shot to his feet and drew his short sword. “Kive, is that you?”

  The rustling grew louder. A pair of red eyes appeared between the branches of a thorny bush. A drawling voice drifted upward. “Is the rat talking to Kive?”

  Gwyn’s heart fell. “I’m not a rat. I’m a boy. Remember?”

  The rustling grew as Kive crawled from the bush, his tattered robes snaring on the thorns. He sat up, legs folded beneath him, mangled hair in his face. “Big juicy rat. Much better than the last one.”

  Gwyn swallowed and tried not to imagine Kive’s implication. “You survived the fall.”

  “Oooh yes. I survive so many falls. So many falls.”

  Gwyn glanced behind him and found Nathaera sitting across the tiny clearing, eyes pinned on Kive. Windsur thankfully had fallen asleep. Gwyn turned back to Kive. “What happened to the other Ilidreth? The — the rat who fell from the wall with you?”

  “I ate him. So juicy, so tender. I love rats. His eyes—”

  “Please!” Gwyn lifted a hand. “Don’t go on. I don’t want to hear.”

  Kive licked his lips. “Nice juicy rat.”

  Nathaera rose and trotted to stand beside Gwyn. “Why are you following us, Kive?”

  “Rat took the shiny rock. The shiny rock is here, so I followed. It called and I must follow wherever it goes. I must.”

  Gwyn and Nathaera exchanged a look.

  “Does that mean we’re stuck with him?” asked Nathaera.

  “So it would seem.” Gwyn crouched down and met Kive’s gaze. “Do you know what the gem is? Does it really call to you? Do you know how to use it?” He fingered the gem in his pocket but decided against pulling it out. Kive might snatch it. He might have come to steal it in the first place. But if so, couldn’t he have stolen it from the Lady’s chamber? Kive hadn’t wanted to enter Swan Castle. Was that because he couldn’t or wouldn’t?

  “The sky fell,” said Kive, staring back at Gwyn, eyes wide with wonder. Just as before, it struck Gwyn now that Kive was rather childlike in spite of being a full-grown man. Despite his horrific desire to eat rat- and human-flesh, he was almost, dare Gwyn say, innocent? The fallen fae spoke on. “The sky fell into shadows, swallowing the sun, swallowing the moon and all her stars. All but the shiny rock. All but that. All that’s left. Only the shiny rock, cradled, cradled. A single piece of the heavens. Full of ocean and starlight.”

  “Do you know how to use the shiny rock, Kive?”

  Kive went on, unheeding. “But the stars are silent. The songs are over. All finished, save one. One last lullaby, the lullaby of death. Dark, fallen. Allll gone.”

  “If he does know, I don’t know if you can eke it out of him,” said Nathaera. “He’s so shattered. It’s really very sad.”

  Gwyn sighed and straightened to his full height. He glanced down at Nathaera, so much shorter than him. “We should keep going. I think Aluem’s rested enough now. Would you please wake Windsur?”

  Nathaera walked over to her betrothed as Gwyn turned back to Kive. “I suppose you’ll come along, whether we welcome it or not. But let me be clear: if you hurt any of my companions, I will be forced to harm you.”

  “Is Rat angry?” asked Kive, eyes widening again.

  “No, but I recommend you not make me so.” Gwyn cautiously moved away from Kive to crouch before Aluem, who sat under a tree nearby, legs folded beneath him. “Aluem, how do you feel?”

  The unicorn raised his head. His opalescent eyes blinked once, twice. ‘I will manage, but I am not at my best. I am afraid our progress is slower than I had estimated. I fear for your brother’s well-being.’

  “I’m as fearful for yours. Can I do anything to assist?”

  Aluem began to toss his head, but hesitated. ‘Perhaps if the gem were in my possession, if Lady Nathaera carried it, and sat upon my back with Lord Windsur? Its properties are such that it may rejuvenate me even as I am taxed.’

  Gwyn dug the gem from his pocket. “Let’s try it.” He rose and turned to find Nathaera. She knelt beside Windsur, speaking to him in low tones. The man looked irritated, disheveled, pale. When Gwyn had treated his wounds, he’d found nothing fatal, but lacerations could become easily infected in conditions like these. Speed was of the greatest importance for everyone in the company.

  ‘Gwynter.’ Aluem’s urgent tone brought him around. The unicorn stood now, one ear flicking backward. ‘We are not alone in these woods. A large force comes crashing through – not made solely of Ilidreth, for it is much too loud.’

  A chill rushed through Gwyn’s frame like a biting wind. “How near?”

  ‘Less than a league away.’

  “Can we avoid them if we continue along our course?”

  ‘Only if we hurry.’

  Gwyn turned back to his human companions. “We must move now. There’s something heading our way, and we should avoid them if we can.”

  “What sort of something?” asked Windsur. “Ilidreth savages?”

  “No, possibly Fraeli.”

  “Fraeli here?” Windsur scoffed. “No madness would drive them to come here.”

  “Oh, yes?” asked Nathaera, hands resting on hips. “Do you call yourself mad, Windsur? You came, after all.”

  The man scowled but said nothing. Gwyn approached and held out his hand. “We’ll make better time if Nathaera rides with you. Come.”

  Windsur grudgingly accepted his hand. Gwyn hauled him to his feet and assisted him toward Aluem.

  “The going will still be slow,” Windsur said stiffly. “Your horse can’t carry all three of us. He’s done a poor job just carrying one.”

  Gwyn considered that as he cupped his hands and lifted Windsur by his boot to mount Aluem. When the man was seated, Gwyn walked around to face the unicorn. “Sir Windsur speaks some truth. I’ll slow the company down. There may be one solution. If you will, my friend, please take the lor
d and lady to Vinwen. Fly as fast as you can, and once they’re safely there, come back for me. It’s the only way to ensure their safety, and you’ll be able to find out if my brother still lives.”

  Aluem studied him, perhaps weighing Gwyn’s resolve. He nodded. ‘It will be as you wish, young Gwynter. But what of Kive?’

  Gwyn chewed the inside of his lip. “If he can sense the gem, Kive may follow you. You must outrun him.”

  ‘And if he stays behind with you?’

  “He will be the least of my dangers.”

  ‘You will likely not survive, my little friend.’

  Gwyn nodded. “I know. But this is the best plan I can think of. Better I perish alone, than all of us together.”

  ‘I wonder if that was not your brother’s philosophy as well.’

  Gwyn turned from Aluem and found Nathaera standing close, eyes bright and brimming with worry.

  “You’re staying behind?”

  “I must. Aluem will return for me after you’re safely brought to Vinwen. Once there, will you find Lawen and discover if he still lives?”

  “What about the gem?”

  “It must go with you.” Gwyn gently took her wrist and pressed the gem into her hand. “Give it to Lawen, and see what can be done to heal him, if it’s not too late.”

  She curled her fingers around the gem, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I promise I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you, Lady Nathaera.”

  “Come on, Nathaera,” said Windsur. “Let the boy play the hero. We must outrun the Fraeli.”

  She gathered her skirts and turned to Aluem. Gwyn helped her to mount behind Windsur.

  “Be safe, all of you.”

  Nathaera turned to meet his eyes. “Stay alive, Gwyn. Promise?”

  “I promise to try.”

  Aluem galloped into the trees, fast and fleet and nearly silent. Gwyn stared the way they’d gone long after they vanished from sight. He shivered and bowed his head, allowing loneliness to settle over him like a heavy cloak. Then he bent down and caught up his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and started after them. Kive followed closely in his tracks.

  Part II

  The Trial at Crow Castle

  Chapter 13

  Despite Aluem’s speed, it took well over a week to reach the edge of the forest and spot the lush, rolling hills of Vinwen. Nathaera looked upon the open countryside and thought she might start to cry. Her body ached from the hard ride, from sleeping on the ground, from eating little besides berries and roots. She yearned for a bath. Windsur needed a doctor. She must find Lawen. Such thoughts had been her constant companions for so many days now, and here at last, she could accomplish all.

  But her heart throbbed. Gwyn had stayed behind. Brave, quiet, determined Gwyn. Was he still alive, alone and afoot in that forsaken realm?

  Aluem slowed his pace as a large stone manor house came into view, along with a windmill and several well-maintained outbuildings surrounded by stone- and wooden fences. Fields surrounded the estate, tender crops growing well, cultivated by slaves hard at work even so early in the morning. As Aluem and his riders passed, the slaves lifted their heads, stared for a moment, then returned to their work. Aluem cut through a pasture and found a dusty road leading toward the manor house.

  “I told you it was a quaint little place,” said Windsur. “They don’t even have a proper keep.”

  “I’m sure they have much more land and many more buildings than we see right here,” Nathaera replied, fighting to keep her voice level. “Besides, wealth isn’t everything. Consider sweet Afallon, raised in poverty before he ascended to Godhood.”

  A grunt was Windsur’s answer.

  Dogs barked as they neared the manor house. A man dressed in livery darted from the doorway, but as he comprehended the newcomers, hope left his eyes.

  He thought we might be Gwyn, Nathaera realized, biting her lip. She lifted her hand in greeting. “Are you the steward?”

  “I am,” answered the man, less courteous than he ought to be when addressing nobility. But then, she and Windsur didn’t look noble right this minute. They could hardly look better than paupers.

  “If you seek food and water, go around back and Cook will see to you. If you seek lodgings, be on your way. We can’t put you up at present — unless you’ve a mind to work. The lass can help in the kitchen, and you, lad, can be of service in the fields.”

  Nathaera felt Windsur’s muscles grow taut where her fingers clung to his shoulders. “How dare you? I’ll have you know I’m no beggar. I am Windsur ren Cloven of Crowwell and this is Lady Nathaera ren Lotelon. We require your assistance.”

  The steward looked between them, brow pinched. “Forgive me, but you hardly look—”

  “We met your master in the woods,” Nathaera blurted out. “Gwynter ren Terare. He sent us on ahead, but we must hurry. Let us stay and I’ll send Aluem back into the woods to retrieve him.”

  The steward’s mouth fell open. “You met the master…?”

  “He saved our lives. Please, lodge us for now, and give water to Aluem before he returns to find Gwyn.”

  The steward glanced behind him as a woman appeared in the open doorway, tall and willowy, with light brown hair that tumbled down to the tips of her lithe fingers. Her grey eyes were the same shade as her son’s.

  “What is all this, Rovare?”

  “My lady, these travelers claim to have seen Master Gwynter in the woods.”

  “It’s true!” cried Nathaera. “Gwyn saved us. He gave us Aluem to ride here ahead of him, but he’s afoot and we must send Aluem back straight away. Fraeli might be on his very heels, if they’ve not caught him already.”

  The noblewoman tensed. “Fraeli? In the woods?” She glanced at the steward and, after several heartbeats, nodded her head. “Water the horse, then let it go. I would speak with our guests.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The steward laid a hand on Aluem’s neck. Windsur dismounted, flinching, then aided Nathaera down after him.

  “Are you all right?” Nathaera whispered.

  “Nothing a goblet of wine won’t fix,” he replied, with a weak smile.

  “Come inside,” said the woman, hand beckoning. “First things first, you each require a hot bath to scrub away all that filth. I’ll have the servants draw one immediately, and afterward you’ll eat a hot meal. We’ll discuss Gwynter at that time.”

  Nathaera followed Lady ren Terare inside but glanced one last time from the doorway to watch Aluem being led toward the stables.

  Lady Mair — for so she introduced herself — stared at Nathaera from across the long table. Windsur had also ceased to devour his food, one eyebrow arched.

  Nathaera waited, praying to Afallon she hadn’t made a mistake by explaining Gwyn’s quest. But she must reach Lawen, and she doubted there was another way if she hoped to visit the dying man. So far, Lady Mair had given no indication of whether Lawen was alive or dead.

  “Nathaera,” said Windsur, breaking the silence. “Have you even heard yourself? It’s obvious that in his grief Gwynter went mad. Magic? It’s, it’s preposterous!” He glanced at Lady Mair. “I’m sorry if that hurts to hear, but Swan Castle is just a ruin. And magic is a myth. Were it not, even so, his quest would be folly. The Crow King considers the use of sorcery punishable by death.”

  Nathaera turned narrowed eyes on him. “Listen to yourself. Even the Crow King believes magic is real. Now, do try to be sensible.” She turned back to Lady Mair. “Let me ask you frankly, Your Ladyship: Is Lawen still alive?”

  The woman sat very still. “He is, but only just. Can he truly be saved?”

  It struck Nathaera that this woman had no reason to want Lawen healed. Hadn’t Gwyn said she desired her own son to be the heir of Vinwen? Wouldn’t Lawen’s death ensure that to happen? Would Lady Mair prevent Nathaera from using the gem, assuming she could even find a way to make it work? Well, there was nothing else for it. I must risk it, nonetheless. Nathaera nodded. “I believe he can.”
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  Lady Mair rose from the table. “Come with me. I will take you to his chambers.”

  Nathaera sprang up and rounded the table to follow the noblewoman from the dining hall and its roaring fire, into a flagstone corridor lit by windows on the west side and the occasional torch against the east wall. Windsur followed, limping a little, a chicken leg in one hand.

  The journey was short: they ascended a single flight of stairs and Mair stopped before the first door on the right. “This is his room. He’s very weak and doesn’t respond to anyone. Once in a great while he calls for Gwyn, but no one else.” She turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

  Darkness shrouded the chamber, caged by long curtains at a tall window. It smelled of death and blood and stale air. A four-post bed sat in the room’s center, raised slightly on a stone dais. Nathaera squinted and thought she could make out the frail form lying in the bed. She inhaled the fetid air, then stooped and pulled the gem from her stocking, straightened, and entered the chamber. She crossed the room and stood upon the dais to peer down at Lawen; what was left of him. He lay so thin, so pale, barely a wisp of a human. Once he might have been handsome, but his illness had ravaged his features, drawing the skin so tight against his skull that he might be mere bones covered in the thinnest parchment. Rattling breaths escaped his thin, bloodless lips. Each laboring moment, he grasped at life only to wait for his brother.

  “Lawen,” she whispered, heart panging. “I’ve come on Gwynter’s behalf. He sent me to help you. He’s returning even now. Oh, you should have seen how brave he was, all he went through, to bring you this.” She uncurled her fingers. At once the gem ignited, filling the room with blue light, ripples like water flung against the walls, illuminating Lawen’s ravaged frame. His eyes fluttered open, a deep green shade, still sparking with life. Still clinging to it.