The lady was finally interrupted by the arrival of a late breakfast, which she had ordered to be brought to her chambers as a way to avoid wasting time in the Great Hall. Her test concluded, and her new wardrobe nearing completion, she was eager to finish the fitting sessions all together. The novelty of their presence in the castle was no doubt wearing off, and the lady was ready to make a stir elsewhere. Elowyn was just as eager for these sessions to be over. The castle, great and beautiful as it was, felt no better than a tomb to her so long as Braeden’s shadow hung over her soul. She was anxious to return home to her garden, to try to get back to the life she had before she knew about Einar and the Hounds, before the lady’s order put such a strain on their household, and before the storms began. It was a deluded hope, but one that she clung to nonetheless.
It was late afternoon when the last hem had been set in place, the last knot tied off, and Morganne, with a satisfied smile, was finished with her work. The lady unlocked a metal chest in the corner of the room and brought out a cloth bag filled with money. Handing it to their mother, she said, “My servant chose well. The quality of your weave is unequaled. Consider this the fulfillment of our contract. You have been paid according to the terms of the agreement.”
She then lifted another, smaller bag out of the chest and handed it to the astonished Morganne. “My people are both wealthy and generous. Much is demanded of a good servant, but she is also well rewarded when her work is done. You have a greater gift than I have ever seen in one so young. Your manner, your speed, and your skill have all pleased me greatly. Though I detest these clothes for what they are, they could not have been more beautifully made.”
The lady then called to her attendant. “Bring the young child out of the nursery and have a cart readied to ferry my guests home.” They were escorted to their rooms one last time, where they were changed back into their old clothes, now washed and pressed. Their time at Tyroc castle was over. An immense flood of relief swept over Elowyn as they passed back through the stone archway and began their journey down the twisting road that had brought them there. She could not believe that they had escaped unharmed, though she regretted that she had not been able to see Elias’ wife one last time. No doubt the lady had spoken to Braeden in private and demanded her removal.
They were all in high spirits as they wound their way back through the streets of Tyroc, where afternoon activities were giving way to evening revelries. The taverns were filling with travelers and locals alike, with heavy mugs of ale being passed all around. Hearth fires were stoked, meals prepared, and sweet aromas wafted through the streets from shutters still open to the early evening air. One by one, the comforting glow of candles and oil lamps began to light up homes, and strains of music lilted on the fresh breeze coming in from the sea. Elowyn saw people greeting each other with friendly smiles, heard joyous laughter echoing down alley ways, and coins being charitably dropped into beggars’ tins. She thought to herself that perhaps Tyroc was not so terrible as she had once believed. Having gotten away from Braeden’s oppressive presence, the hazards of the city seemed much less threatening. The Lady Isana did not understand their ways, but this was the only life Elowyn had known—the only life she thought she would ever know. She had great hope that somehow Aviad would keep the darkness at bay, that what goodness existed in her time would prevail over the encroaching evil.
They were delivered to the doorstep of their cottage, which was just as they had left it. The driver lingered outside, bidding Morganne and her mother to make sure all was in order and that they had no further need of his services. As they went inside, he turned to Elowyn and silently slipped a sealed packet into her hand with a man’s name written on the outside. He stared at her intently until she nodded in understanding. She had almost forgotten about the request Elias’ wife had made of her in the garden the previous night. The driver must have also been a friend of Elias. Once her mother had declared everything was in order, the driver began his journey back to the castle.
Their hearth fire had completely gone out so that Elowyn had to start it with sparks and tinder. She did not mind this task, and she was better at it than most due to her frequent excursions into the wood. They had nothing except for coarse bread, dried fish and onions for their evening meal, but they all ate with good humor, knowing that the coming days would bring more promising fortune.
Escape from Tyroc
The next morning was a glorious one. The sun shone brightly in a crystal blue and rose sky, and the air was warmer than it had been for weeks. Elowyn couldn’t wait to spend the day working in her garden. The aroma of damp earth was as intoxicating to her as wine might be to another. Their mother woke earlier than usual, and in a fair mood. Elowyn actually thought she heard her mother humming to herself as she dressed to leave for Tyroc. She no doubt wanted to settle her debts and perhaps purchase a few items that she had long set her eyes on, before putting the rest of her earnings away for safekeeping. Morganne began her morning by cleaning up the cottage and starting a fresh kettle of pottage over the hearth fire.
Once their mother left, Morganne abruptly stopped her routine. She slowly, deliberately, took a satchel out of a storage chest and laid it out on the table, staring at it with a determined expression. She began to stuff it with what Elowyn instantly recognized as provisions for a journey. Simple, durable foods, tinder, candles, a blanket, sturdy clothes, Gareth’s book … and of course, the bag of money the lady had given her.
Elowyn looked at Morganne, who stared back at her, silent and unwavering. Without words they understood each other perfectly.
“I want you to come with me,” Morganne said. “I fear for the future you would have here, alone with her. But whether you come or not, Adelin and I must go. Here I will be no better than a slave for the rest of my days, and you know that our mother has no love for Adelin. This small bag of money may be the only chance I ever get. If I don’t take it … oh, you have no idea how long I have hoped for this, dreamed of it…”
Elowyn saw tears forming in her sister’s eyes, not of sorrow, but of joy, and the unspeakable elation of an impossible vision becoming blessed reality.
“Where would you take us?” Elowyn asked, knowing already that whatever Morganne’s chosen destination, it was her fate to follow.
“We cannot go south. Those cities have too many connections with Tyroc, especially in the cloth and garment trade. We would be found out within a week. To the east there is naught but wasteland between here and the coast, and to the west we would have to walk much too far before finding a suitable place to settle down. I would eventually like to go there, to find out what became of Gareth. But we have neither the means nor provisions to get there just yet. We will have to go north. Along the way there are villages where we could stay and restock our supplies, though we will have to be careful with our money. There is a mining town on the northern sea called Minhaven, where I have heard that they are in need of a seamstress. It will be a new life, a hard life … but it will belong to us, and not to our mother.”
“What of the Hounds?” Elowyn asked nervously. In ordinary times this journey would be dangerous enough for three young girls. In their present time, it would be much more so. Elowyn understood the darkness lurking out there more intimately than Morganne realized. If Morganne had been older and wiser, she might have never found the courage to even dream of such an escape. But there are times when, for good or for bad, the impulsiveness of youth persuades us to take those first steps, which forever forge the irreversible paths of our lives. Perhaps too, it is innocence that allows the young to hear Aviad more clearly when he calls, and encourages their hearts to follow Him, even when they do not recognize His voice for what it is.
Morganne paused thoughtfully, as though she had not before considered the Hounds a hindrance to her plan. “You said that you knew of them already, before Gareth’s letter.”
Elowyn nodded.
“Elowyn,” Morganne’s tone was earnest. “You must tell me all th
at you know, for my sake, and Adelin’s … and yours too, if you decide to come with us.”
Elowyn knew that it was now finally the time to explain everything that had happened. She started at the beginning, reliving the day she found the coin, the helm, and the bow and arrows. She even told her about the vision of the slain man (something she hadn’t even told Einar), and how that vision had driven her to return to the stream. Only instead of casting away the coin as she had planned, she was attacked by a Hound and rescued by Einar. She recounted her conversation with Einar in the shelter below ground, her journey to the shrine, what she found there, and even the contents of her dreams. She though it especially important that what Aviad told her through her dream was also written to them in Gareth’s letter. She told Morganne about following Einar to his camp, and Mavek’s execution. She also explained everything Einar had said to her later about his growing up, the two brothers, the fate of the Circle, Braeden’s dark influence, the probable murder of the Sovereign, and the true identity of the man Braeden had executed. Elowyn told Morganne every last detail, right down to the previous day, when the driver had silently thrust the packet of letters in her hand, which so many hoped would find their way into the hands of loved ones. When she had finally finished her tale, Morganne could only stare at her little sister in awed silence for a good long while.
“All this time … all that happened,” she finally spoke, “and you never told me any of it, not even when we were right there in the castle. And to think, we sat at the same table with Braeden and Darik … and still you said nothing.” Elowyn watched Morganne’s expression as she slowly pieced everything together, realizing the danger they might have faced had Elowyn not kept her silence.
Elowyn shrugged apologetically—she thought for certain that Morganne would be angry, or hurt, or even disappointed that Elowyn had not taken her into her confidence sooner. At the very least she expected a scolding for all the times when she could have gotten herself killed, or worse. But the Morganne standing in front of her was also changed, no longer bound by the cares of a weaver’s daughter. She had resolved herself to be finished with this life and with their mother. That decision had already freed her, though she had yet to take that first step beyond the threshold of the cottage.
“I shall have to remember not to underestimate you.” She smiled admiringly at Elowyn, and from that point on their relationship changed, at least from Elowyn’s point of view. For the first time she felt that Morganne needed her, and that she had been accepted as she was.
“From what you have told me, the Hounds seem to travel only at night, and they are gathering around the west of Tyroc, in the direction of the castle. I’ve heard no tale from the traveling merchants about the Hounds plaguing other cities, at least not yet. People come and go between Tyroc and other cities every day without incident. So long as we get well away before nightfall, we should be able to avoid them all together, should we not?”
“I cannot promise safety,” Elowyn answered truthfully. “They move where they will, and devour who they will, whether anyone knows the tale or not. Surely no tales of Nevon or the traveling monks will ever be told among Tyroc’s shopkeepers. But you are right—when I last saw Einar, he did say that they had moved west of here, heading in the direction of the Circle’s old camp and the castle. I can only hope they have not returned. Do we risk the roads, or the wilderness?”
Morganne smiled with relief. “So, you are coming then.”
Elowyn nodded. What choice had she? To remain alone with their mother? She, who was unwanted? How would she explain her sisters’ disappearance? No doubt to remain would mean a miserable, lonely, pain-filled existence, with no hope for the future. She despised Tyroc, and it equally despised her. Einar and Gareth were gone, the Hounds haunted the forests, and evil reigned in the Sovereign’s castle. She had no reason to stay.
“I’ve looked at a number of maps, and over the years have heard many of the merchants speaking at length of their travels,” Morganne continued. “To take the north road, we would have to pass through all of Tyroc, the North Gate, and the main crossroads beyond it that branches out to all the western villages. You might get by if you were alone, but too many people along the way could recognize me and tell mother which way we went. Besides, taking the road would considerably lengthen our trip. We would have to loop all the way back to the east, in the very direction we came from, before the road veers to the north again. But if we go directly north from here, through the wilds, we will meet the road eventually, and we will be far beyond the crossroads. From there, we can decide if we want to continue through the wilds or follow the road.”
Elowyn felt a strong sense of urgency to get moving—if they were going to go through with this plan, every moment lost was a precious one. Not only did they need to get well beyond Tyroc’s woodlands by nightfall, there was no way of knowing when their mother might return.
“We need to hurry,” she told Morganne. “Adelin will slow us. Leave the clothes, and leave the book. But bring your heavy rain cloak, your sewing needle and thread, water skins, dry tinder, a blanket, a few candles and some rope. Eat your fill and pack enough food to last a couple of days. I’ll go see what can be harvested from the garden.”
Without waiting for Morganne to speak, Elowyn ran outside. As she looked over the garden she had faithfully tended for as long as she could remember, her eyes filled with tears. She felt as though she were about to betray her dearest friends to a slow, withering death. Her mother would certainly never care for them. She took anything that was ripe enough, or grown enough to be of use. She tied the herbs carefully in bundles with twine, and strung them together so they could be hung from their belts or satchels to dry.
The last thing Elowyn did was go to the place where her treasures were hidden. Among the objects she had so carefully saved, the only one of real meaning to her in that moment was the pair of old trousers she thought to be her father’s. Gingerly she picked them up and brought them back with her into the cottage, where she found that Morganne had finished packing their satchels and was making a make-shift cloth carrier to tie around her waist and back, so that she could more easily bear Adelin’s weight. It was finally time to leave.
Elowyn hung her pouch on her left side, and her dagger on her right, now that she had no need to hide it. With her satchel slung across her back, she stepped out the cottage door for what would be the last time. Elowyn could not help but look back thoughtfully at the life she was leaving behind so unexpectedly, and wonder what kind of future lay ahead. Morganne did not look back once, not even a glance. She walked boldly to the edge of the forest and waited patiently for Elowyn to catch up and take the lead. Elowyn was apprehensive, knowing that Morganne was depending on her to guide them safely through the wilds, and hoping that Morganne’s faith in her was not misplaced. Elowyn knew this region of Tyroc’s woodlands rather well, but she knew nothing of the lands and dangers that waited beyond, nor did she have the skills necessary to protect herself or her sisters.
The start of their journey was difficult for Elowyn. She was trying to sort through the jumble of memories and emotions flooding through her mind, while at the same time watching out for any sign of danger. Elowyn knew every tree, every stone, and every hill of the path they were on. So many lovely memories they held, of peaceful, innocent times—times that would never come again. Elowyn was noticeably uncomfortable allowing Morganne and Adelin to share in that path and add to those memories. For so long she had separated her wilderness life and her home life. To have them converge in such a way felt strange to her. Of course there were fearful memories too—feelings of dread that resurfaced as Elowyn remembered the weight of the Hound pressing upon her back, and the stench of its breath. She saw no trace of their recent presence, but knowing the Hounds had once been there was bothersome enough.
Morganne, on the other hand, was positively glowing with joy. She sung softly to herself as she walked, in spite of the obvious physical burden she was trying
to overcome. Between Adelin’s weight, her satchel (which carried Gareth’s book, despite Elowyn’s advice), and having spent far too many months sitting with her needle, she was constantly struggling to catch her breath and keep up with Elowyn.
In time they reached the place where Elowyn’s part in this tale had begun … and Nevon’s had violently ended. She could not help but cross the stream and pause at the stone his comrades had placed in his honor.
“Rest here for a bit,” she told Morganne, who was grateful to set down her load and allow Adelin to run about and splash in the shallow water for a short while. Elowyn took the coin out of her pouch and fingered it thoughtfully.
“Is this the place?” Morganne asked gently.
Elowyn nodded. She knew this would be her last chance to rid herself of the coin that had brought her so much trouble. There had been a time when she couldn’t wait to cast it back into the stream. Yet now she found it didn’t seem right anymore. So few would remember what had happened to Nevon, to the monks, to Einar and the Circle. So few knew the truth about Elias. Perhaps the coin had belonged to Nevon, perhaps not, as Einar thought. But in her mind, they were all one. Every time she looked at the coin, every time she felt its cool smooth surface between her fingertips, she would remember, and hope that someday Elias’ final words would come true, that through his death, Braeden and all of his wicked plots would be exposed. Elowyn placed the coin back into her pouch and pulled the drawstring tight. She plucked a yellow wildflower growing nearby and placed it reverently on the stone. It was her way of saying good-bye to this man she had never met, whose life had so profoundly changed hers.
“We must keep moving on,” she said, quietly picking up her satchel and crossing the stream once more. They were soon in territory wholly unfamiliar to Elowyn. She had never been so far from the cottage. Signs of other travelers were quickly disappearing, while signs of wildlife, particularly large wildlife, were increasing. Fruit bearing and edible plants had not been entirely picked clean either, and when she spotted anything that might be of use, she took it. This gave Morganne brief moments of respite as well, which Elowyn could see she was beginning to need more often as the day wore on.
Journey to Aviad Page 19