Until we meet again, whether in this life or the one beyond, I remain faithfully yours,
Gareth
Elowyn stared at the letter in complete disbelief. She had heard those words before … believe and remember. The journey begins … she had heard them from the Aviad in her dream at the temple. She wondered now, had it been a dream at all? What did it mean? She felt her skin and scalp tingle, just as it does when one first senses that he is being stalked by an unknown something lurking in the dark. Elowyn’s muscles involuntarily tensed, gathering their strength to break into a wild run. She needed to find someplace safe to hide, but where? Elowyn was unable, at her age, to fully grasp the spiritual implications of what their tutor had said. She only knew that she was in the path of a danger that she could not see and did not know how to fight.
In all honesty, Elowyn was even more unsettled by the possibility that Aviad had really spoken to her in the ruins. It was not that she didn’t believe in Aviad truly in her heart. But to hear him directly, to have him speak to her in a vision … that was something meant for holy men and Prophets, not little girls. She felt as though she had accidentally taken some priceless heirloom and was now afraid to be caught holding it. If the vision was not a mistake, that meant she was supposed to understand it and do something with it. That kind of responsibility was overwhelming and terrifying to her.
Elowyn looked to Morganne for guidance, but her expression was blank, dumbfounded. Whereas Elowyn had already experienced the Hounds intimately and been warned numerous times by Einar that some great evil was already upon them, all of this was new to Morganne. She had overheard vague rumors while going about the shops in Tyroc, but for the most part she brushed them off as gossip. And she had gone into the city less and less over the last weeks, absorbed as she had been with her sewing tasks. Her world, up until now, had been very neatly divided. Isolation in the cottage, with nothing else to focus on but her work, made it very easy to forget the outside world, and even the realm of the spirit. The prick of her needle felt far more real than anything else.
There was no question that the Ancient writings fascinated Morganne, and she wholly believed in them. But she had always thought direct involvement with both the Ancients and the Shadow Spirits to be a thing of history. She had certainly never witnessed or felt anything beyond the ordinary, nor had anyone else she knew. It was shocking to think that the howling and baying which had haunted her sleep for so many nights came not from ordinary wolves, but mythical beasts found thus far only in what she had thought to be long-forgotten legend. What else might be happening to her, and around her, that she had not recognized because she had not remembered and believed? And now that she knew, what was she to do with that knowledge? Though Morganne’s life had been hard, and forced a maturity upon her that was beyond her years, she was still only a girl. Her life was not yet her own; it belonged to her mother, who had no belief in the Ancients at all. Was she meant to sit and sew, and simply wait for doom to come upon them all?
Morganne turned to Elowyn and said sharply, “You already knew about them, didn’t you?” Elowyn nodded slowly, not wanting to speak of her direct encounter with the Hounds.
“But how? How did you know of them?” Elowyn remained stubbornly silent in a way that typically infuriated Morganne.
Morganne suddenly felt trapped and restless. She felt the need to do something, but what? For the first time she thought of leaving, perhaps even traveling with her mentor to whatever far off place he was destined for, so that she might learn more. Gareth had said that she possessed a gift, that she was destined to follow the Prophets. Over the years she had learned to trust his wisdom, but doubts still consumed her. Why must he leave now when she was in such desperate need of guidance? She was quite sure that a girl would not be permitted to go and study with the monks. Even if by chance they did allow it, Morganne was not prepared to suffer a journey through the wilds to a place where she knew no one. She had not so much as a silver coin to her name, having given that up to her mother in exchange for Gareth’s book. She would only be an added burden on the group’s limited resources. Besides, what would happen to Elowyn and Adelin if she left? Surely their mother’s wrath would be taken out on them tenfold. The contract her mother had signed would not be filled, and she could possibly lose everything. Morganne could not bear to live with that on her conscience for the rest of her life.
Morganne read the letter carefully many more times, determined to burn every detail of its contents into her mind. Once satisfied that she would be able to recall Gareth’s words adequately, she threw his letter into the fire as she had promised. Morganne then went back to work on his robe, making it light and strong and well waxed against the rain. She also made him a new pouch to hang at his side. It was very late in the night when she finished and finally lay down by the hearth to sleep. Early the next morning, before her mother had a chance to protest, she took the robe and pouch and made her way into the city.
When Morganne walked up to the Temple and asked for Brother Gareth, she was at first told that he was not available for visitors. Protesting vehemently, she explained that she had stayed up all night making a new robe he had commissioned for his journey, and now needed to make sure that it fit him properly. The man at the entrance took the things she had made and disappeared inside without saying a word.
As she patiently waited to see if he would return, Morganne watched a group of young boys, all sons of wealthy merchants, pass by her unchecked into the Temple. They were in their school clothes, with cropped hair, writing tablets and books tucked under their arms. They would be learning the old tongue (in which most of the tomes were written), reading by repetition from sacred texts as well as books of verse, history, and legend. They would be learning about astronomy, and arithmetic, and all sorts of things that she, as a weaver’s daughter, could only dream of learning. And she knew that she could learn them too, if only given a chance. The brief glimpse into the tomes that she had gotten under Gareth’s tutelage was to her like a sip of water to one dying of thirst. Her desire to know more, to learn, to grow … it entirely consumed her being so that she could hardly bear it. Day by day, stitch by stitch, the cottage, and the gift of her needle, began to feel like a cage in which she was to be held prisoner until the end of her days. She longed to go with her tutor on his journey, but dared not ask. She looked up to see Gareth walking toward her, wearing the new robe and a large beaming smile.
“It is wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I have never owned, nor hoped to own, such a marvelous garment. The Temple will think that I have broken my poverty vow!” he said as he winked.
Morganne managed a smile, but was still disturbed by her newfound knowledge. “I wish that I could go with you,” she said timidly, wondering how he would respond.
Gareth shook his head. “Nay child, it would be far too dangerous. There is no guarantee that we shall ever reach our destination.”
“But from what you have told me, I have no guarantee of safety here, either. Now that I know, what am I to do? I feel so … helpless.”
Gareth nodded in understanding. “As do I. But sometimes it is when we feel the most helpless, and the most alone, that we are actually the closest to knowing our true nature. There are none that we can rely on, not even ourselves. We must trust the Ancients alone to guide us and protect us. Even if it is our fate to perish, we die knowing that, because of Aviad, our spirits never shall. That is the greatest hope we have, and the purest joy we will ever know. Worry not about what you must do—for now this fight is in the hands of others. Just keep your faith, and take care of your family the best you can. If Aviad calls upon you to serve in his army, you shall hear it, and he will tell you what to do. But now I must go and finish my preparations. As the Prophets commonly said upon parting, ‘Go in Wisdom until we dance once again among the stars.’ Farewell, dear Morganne. Farewell.” Then Gareth disappeared into the Temple, and that was the last she saw of him.
The Scattering of the Circle<
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Elowyn noticed that Morganne’s mood changed greatly after Gareth’s departure. She was silent, pensive, and less attentive to her needle than she had been. She made mistakes in her stitching, which was very much unlike her. Their mother noticed the change too, and the tension between them rose to an unbearable level. They snapped at each other, and their mother’s temper flared perilously. Elowyn spent as much time as she could in her garden, which turned out to be a good thing, since the weather had become far more nasty and unpredictable than usual. She was able to devote enough time to its care that her garden continued to flourish in spite of the weather.
One day Elowyn went out to tend her plants and felt a presence other than her own. She didn’t hear or see anything that indicated someone else was around, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She kept glancing into the brush, trying to catch a glimpse of color or movement, or anything that might betray the watcher. Nothing. Yet there was something there, she was sure of it. Elowyn inched closer to the edge of the brush and listened. Her muscles were tense and alert. She was unsure whether it would be wiser to investigate further, or just go back inside the cottage until the feeling passed. But being the curious child she was, she could not seem to resist the temptation of stepping past the tangled wall of brush that edged her garden to take a look.
There, leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for her, was Einar. Elowyn froze, her eyes wide with uncertainty, her body ready to bolt at any sudden move. Should she run or call for help? Einar slowly laid down his bow and raised his open palms toward her in a friendly gesture.
“I have no cause to harm you, child. It pains my heart to see such fear in your eyes.”
Elowyn remained silent and kept her distance.
He continued softly, “I know what you saw must have been difficult to understand. I would like the chance to explain.”
“How did you know I was there?” she asked in a suspicious tone.
Einar smiled. “No doubt the same way you knew how to find my camp. The rain betrayed us both, I’m afraid.”
There was a long and uncomfortable silence between them before Einar finally said, “I am truly sorry, little wind rider.” His voice was so tender, and so sincere, that for the moment it wiped away the last memories of him that had haunted her so persistently.
“Such events were not meant for your tender eyes to witness. I owe you a great debt for not betraying the location of our camp to the guards, and I know that you have no obligation to help me further. But I do ask that you come and sit with me, and allow me to tell you my tale now that there is no longer need to hide it. Then you may judge me as you will, and should you choose to never speak with me again, I will honor your wish. Will you at least grant me that?”
Elowyn hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. She was willing to trust him just once more. She followed him into a small clearing where he had already set up a makeshift camp. He uncovered hot embers from the previous night’s fire and nursed it back to life. He offered her food and drink—wild rabbit he had caught himself earlier that morning, greens, and medlars. It was a simple fare, but to Elowyn it seemed like a feast. She rarely enjoyed the luxury of any meat other than dried fish or salted pork.
“I suppose I should start at the beginning, back before all the trouble began. As a young lad, I grew up in the castle at Tyroc. Aye, I thought that might surprise you. Yes, I knew the Sovereign and his sons quite well enough, and better than I would have liked, for I was a solitary child, much as you are. I was always escaping off into the north woods when I was supposed to be working on my studies, or practicing my fencing, or making appearances at extravagant court feasts.” Einar sat back against a young tree and slowly stoked the fire as he gathered his thoughts.
“I had a sure love for the bow, but my father said that it was the weapon of wall sentries and poachers, hardly befitting for one of my social standing. Thankfully a man in the Sovereign’s court, who had far more prestige than my father, saw things differently. He had me taught by the finest archer he could find, and then entered me in the Nobles’ competitions, where no doubt he placed and won a good number of sizeable bets. I did not care that he was exploiting my talent, so long as I was able to shoot. My swords skill suffered terribly, and I know it was a great embarrassment to my father.
“As far as the average fighter went, I was good enough to hold my ground. But you see, my father was one of the Circle, the Sovereign’s chosen elite guard, and swordsmen all. I was not supposed to be good. I was expected to be among the best of the best. It put a great deal of strain on our relationship until the man who had seen to my archery studies felt that he was in danger of losing his side income. He brought the matter to the Sovereign, who made a point to come watch me in competition one afternoon. He was impressed enough that he personally assured my father that there would be a place for me when my time came to serve.
“As it turned out, this was a good thing, because my father died unexpectedly shortly thereafter, leaving me an orphan. I was too young to join the Circle, but had no family to watch out for me. So the Sovereign took me in, so to speak. What this meant was that he had his servants see to my physical health and my studies, and when it was his desire that I amuse him with my skill, I was brought before him and expected to perform. Sometimes I was included in his hunting party and rode alongside his sons.
“I actually enjoyed the company of the eldest, Avery. Back then he was strong, and noble, and kind of spirit. The younger son’s company, however, I enjoyed not at all. Darik was sullen, spoiled, and madly jealous of his elder brother. He mistreated the servants because they were afraid of him. He mistreated me because I was living on his father’s charity, and was therefore no better than the servants. One day he infuriated me to the point where I completely lost my temper and knocked him down. He ran back to the castle with a bloodied nose and his eye beginning to swell, screaming threats the entire way. Avery, who without my knowing had seen the entire incident, walked up to me with a big grin on his face and said, ‘I wondered how much more you could possibly take off him.’
“‘I don’t find it so amusing,’ I said, truly frightened by what I had done. Men of the Circle were supposed to protect the Sovereign’s family, not attack them. Had I been an adult, I could have easily been charged with treason and executed. ‘I shall have to leave now before the Sovereign has me flogged or beheaded, or worse.’ I was honestly ready to flee for my life, but Avery stopped me.
“‘You will stay. I shall take care of this.’ His manner was so firm, and his voice so commanding, I felt as though I had to obey. It was, after all, the way I had been taught and trained my whole life. What he did I shall never know, but the matter was not brought up again by anyone, including Darik, who from then on kept a safe distance from me. Somehow though, I always felt that the incident was not forgotten, and that someday I would be paid back for both the insult and the injury.
“Then came the day when Avery and Darik were expected to take on more advanced studies, and one of the priests was brought in from the Temple. His name was Braeden. I took an instant dislike to him, and he viewed me with as much disdain as Darik had. The two took up a strange companionship for a tutor and pupil to share, whispering secrets, and keeping unusual hours together when no one else was about. I noticed too, that after Braeden arrived, the trouble between Avery and Darik increased tenfold. Royalty or not, they were brothers, and they felt a deep need to be in constant competition with each other. Braeden encouraged this to a brutal level, and as Avery usually won in the end, the effect on Darik was unquestionably bad. Braeden would soothe his feelings with false praise and words spoken in secret for a time, yet he continued to pit them against each other.
“While Avery excelled, much to the Sovereign’s pride, Darik became more ill-tempered and violent, ever clinging to Braeden’s robes. It wasn’t right. It should have been stopped. But no one could see what was coming, because no one was paying attention. And th
en it was simply too late. Even afterward, most lamented what happened as nothing more than a tragic accident. A few had their suspicions, mainly based on their dislike of Darik rather than on any true knowledge of the events that transpired. But I saw more than I was meant to.
“The brothers were running about on one of the outer walls. I saw them from the edge of the wood where I had been sitting quietly for some time, carving arrows. It was the part of the wall that rose up into an open, flat-topped tower, with a steep and narrow winding staircase from its top, down into the outermost courtyard of the castle. I heard them laughing and calling out to each other in a harmless manner and thought nothing of it. Then the tone of their exchange shifted, and they were no longer calling out, but yelling. I could not understand what the argument was about as their precise words were carried off and lost on the wind. From my vantage point, I could only see them from about the waist upward. They started to shove and wrestle with one another, then Avery took a swing and Darik was down. Avery said something to Darik that I couldn’t make out, turned his back, and began to walk away toward the staircase. Darik got up, seething with rage. He ran toward Avery and shoved him down. For a few moments, I could see neither of them. But then Darik came running back into view, looked around anxiously, and sped off along the wall out of sight.
“When Avery did not reappear, I began to get nervous. I raced to the closest gate to tell the guards there what I had seen, and warn them that Avery might be hurt. They ordered me to remain where I was while two of them went off to investigate. An age seemed to pass before one of them finally came back. His step was slow, his expression disturbed, and his armor and clothes were smeared with blood.
“‘You, boy. Come with me.’
Journey to Aviad Page 12