“Oh, no. That can’t be good.”
“Will it close?” Aidan gingerly lifted the strip and attempted to press the pieces together, to no avail. When he dropped the strip, it ripped further.
“Let’s get to Faolan, and quickly,” Gwen said. “We need answers.”
“What if someone stumbles across this portal?” Aidan looked around, then dragged an empty wooden crate to partially obscure a view of the portal from the road.
“That will have to do,” Gwen said. She put a hand on the crate to steady herself, then climbed through the portal. Aidan clambered in after her.
Chapter 5
Bran threw open the door of Wintertree realm’s room of enchantments with an expression of relief. His brother Kelan followed and shut the door carefully behind him. Bran collapsed onto a nearby bench and wiped his brow with his sleeve.
“Father’s a tyrant,” he said. “Working us to the bone like that.”
“You do like to complain,” said Kelan, but his forehead glistened under his blond hair and he looked tired. “Father’s still in there, and twice our age.”
“That’s an unfair comparison. You know he’s a maniac.”
“At least we’ve pinpointed the exact location of every new portal in the realm,” said Kelan.
“Except new ones keep cropping up,” said Bran with an uncharacteristic frown on his face. “You can tell Father’s concerned.”
“Well, look at you, worrying about things.” Kelan ruffled Bran’s hair. “Acting like an adult for once. Did your elder mark finally sink in?”
Bran swatted Kelan’s hand away with a grin.
“I’m sure it won’t last long, don’t worry.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face, and he pressed a hand against his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Kelan asked.
“Something—I think someone is summoning me.” Bran stared at Kelan with dawning excitement. “It feels like the ring I gave Gwen, my half-human friend. That must mean she’s in our world.”
“How strong is the summoning?”
Bran closed his eyes briefly.
“She’s close.”
Kelan glanced at the door of the room of enchantments.
“He’ll be in there for hours on that particular spell, and it’s a solitary one. Shall we find this Gwen of yours?”
Bran leaped up and clapped Kelan on the back.
“Grab our cloaks and weapons. I’ll meet you in the stables.”
***
Dead grasses rustled against Gwen’s calves, grasses that covered a meadow in the clutches of winter. There was no snow, but a biting wind tore through her jacket. It caused her to shiver and Aidan to tighten the drawstring of his hood. Gwen rubbed a copper ring on her thumb absentmindedly. They passed through shallow rolling hills for almost two hours before they reached their destination. The Crescent Lake lay at their feet, its quiet waters still against the shore. It was only a small waterway, but peaceful with ducks floating serenely on the surface.
There were no signs of habitation, let alone the capital of the Wintertree realm. Gwen’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. She had hoped that Isolde’s directions would lead them directly to the city gates. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Where’s Faolan’s palace?” said Aidan. “The lake is familiar, but nothing else is.”
“At least we’re closer than last time. Supposedly. Assuming we have the right spot.”
Gwen adjusted her backpack and followed Aidan across the meadow interspersed with clumps of high bushes. She was thankful for her warm coat and sturdy walking shoes, neither of which she had worn on her previous trips to the Otherworld.
Conversation between Gwen and Aidan eventually drifted away into the gray air. The oppressive silence of the wintery landscape lowered Gwen’s spirits until all she could think about was the wooden throne of the Velvet Woods. It loomed in her mind, relentlessly reminding her of what the future would hold if Faolan had no answers. Assuming they could find Faolan, of course.
If I become queen, Gwen thought. The first thing that will change is the name of the Velvet Woods. Then she shook herself. Was she seriously thinking of ruling as a possibility? She quickened her footsteps to draw level with Aidan.
“Any sign of the Wintertree capital?” she asked him. They had found a dirt track, muddy in places, that meandered toward the Crescent Lake. It had led them out of a frozen forest ten minutes ago.
“Only this road we’re following,” said Aidan. He glanced at it with narrowed eyes. “Hardly worthy of the name.”
“Deer track, more like.” Gwen put her thumbs through her backpack straps. “I hope the capital turns up soon. I didn’t bargain on walking all afternoon.”
“Did you hear that?” Aidan said sharply. He put a hand on her arm to stop her. Gwen strained her ears. Was that the snorting of a horse in the distance? They looked at each other, their eyes wide. Gwen swallowed. She was never certain if they would encounter friend or foe in the Otherworld.
Footsteps thundered nearby before a holly bush exploded beside Gwen. She shrieked and clutched Aidan. Who was attacking them? What would they do now? Any defensive spells she had practiced with Aidan flew out of her mind in the panic. Their attacker, with hair as copper as Aidan’s own, opened his arms to surround them. That face…
“Bran?” Gwen gasped when she found herself in a tight embrace with Aidan and Bran. Bran pulled back and grinned widely.
“You summoned me with your ring!”
“Did I?” Gwen was perplexed. Had she done a spell? “I must have done it without realizing.”
“Handy, though,” said Aidan. “Your subconscious has a great sense of timing.”
“This is excellent!” said Bran. “What are you doing here? Where are you going?”
“The Wintertree capital, actually,” Gwen said when she had caught her breath.
“Then why are you on this road? It’s the wrong way, certainly. You would have missed Winterwood—it’s past the peak, but on the east, not the west.” Bran waved at his brother. “Gwen, Aidan, this is my brother Kelan. The youngest besides me. Not as much of a worrier as Crevan, not as joyless as Owen…”
“Hardly a difficult proposition,” said Kelan.
“True enough,” said Bran. He threw an arm around each of Gwen’s and Aidan’s shoulders, knocking his black fur cloak off his arms. “I brought spare mounts—it’s quite a walk otherwise.”
“Great, horses,” Gwen said without enthusiasm. The memory of her sore bottom when she had last ridden a horse resurfaced.
Aidan looked resigned, but he said, “Thanks, Bran. The sooner we get to Winterwood, the better.”
“Why did you come? Was it to visit me?” Bran said as he helped Gwen into her saddle. Gwen laughed.
“Just a wonderful bonus.” She was quiet for a moment while her horse followed Kelan’s, wondering where to start.
“Is it something to do with the errant portals being created?” asked Kelan. Gwen lifted her eyebrows.
“Yes, actually. We thought your father might have some answers about that, and a related issue.”
“Save the explanation for him, then,” Kelan said. “Father will want the full account.”
There was a moment’s silence, which Bran broke.
“It’s lucky I found you. You and your portals—you have no idea what the terrain looks like in our world when you’re in the human world. You could be anywhere—Wintertree, Velvet Woods, imagine if you went to the Forbidden Lands!” He clearly had not been dwelling on the mystery of Gwen and Aidan’s reasons for visiting the Otherworld.
“Bran, what do you know about the Forbidden Lands?” Before Gwen had sent her uncle Finn back through a portal, he had said he was from the Forbidden Lands, but his description had been vague. She was curious to know more. “I found out that―”
“I always forget how much you two don’t know!” Bran interrupted. “The Forbidden Lands are where escaped tribeless ones gather, those who didn’t
get their proper mark. No one goes there. I have no idea what it’s like. It’s a refuge for them, though.”
“It’s surrounded by a powerful magic that neutralizes their powers,” said Kelan. He helped Gwen onto her horse. “Honestly, Bran, it’s astonishing what you don’t know. The tribeless ones can’t control their magic, so they are sent to the Forbidden Lands where they can be safe, for themselves and everyone else. Their magic is volatile and unpredictable, and the mountains around the Forbidden Lands contain them.”
“That’s why?” Bran stroked the mane of his horse. “I thought they were hunted down after the marking ceremony.”
Kelan shook his head, then nudged his horse into a trot. Gwen digested the slew of information while they rode. After a quarter hour’s gentle ride, their horses climbed a grassy rise and slowed at the crest. Nestled in a valley below them was a cluster of roofs liberally covered with barren and evergreen vines. In the center rose a large wooden mansion.
“There’s Winterwood,” said Bran.
***
Bran burst through the massive double doors, past the shivering guards into the hall beyond. The eyes of the stuffed animal heads lining the walls from floor to ceiling stared beadily at him. He took no notice.
“We’re here!” he said unnecessarily to the others. He shrugged off his thick fur cloak and handed it to a servant who had hurried toward him. “Coats off, then let’s have some fun.”
“Your father first,” Aidan reminded him.
“Oh, right.” Bran looked crestfallen for a moment, then brightened. “After?”
“Hopefully,” Gwen said. Kelan rolled his eyes.
“He’s in the great hall. This way.”
Kelan led them down the wide corridor to another set of double doors.
“Do you think he’ll have finished the locator spell yet?” Bran asked.
“Probably only just. He still had to do the directional spell without us.” Kelan paused at the doors and held a hand to his forehead with a wince.
“Headache?” said Bran. “Where’s your healing charm?”
“I thought I would try without it for a while.” Kelan pulled a plain silver bracelet from his pocket and pushed it on his wrist. Immediately, his face cleared with relief. “A bad idea, apparently.”
“Does that bracelet take away your headache?” asked Gwen with interest.
“It lessens the symptoms, makes them more manageable. I’m prone to headaches, and the charm reduces the pain. Come on, best not to keep Father waiting.” He pushed the doors open with more care than Bran had shown earlier.
Gwen looked around the hall. The semi-transparent glass windows that rose from floor to tall ceiling let the dim light of a winter’s afternoon filter over the empty room. Empty, except for one lone figure sitting on a bench beside a small wooden door. Faolan’s eyes were closed and his slumped shoulders spoke of his fatigue. His eyes sprang open sharply and his back straightened when he heard their footsteps.
“Bran, Kelan, you’re back. Good. I want to try the cluster spell.” His eyes raked over Aidan and rested on Gwen’s face. “Your companions seem familiar…”
“You remember Gwen and Aidan, Father,” said Bran. “They saved my life a few months ago.”
A look of comprehension passed over Faolan’s face, and he stood up.
“Of course. My apologies. Declan’s son and Isolde’s daughter. Half-humans. Wait.” He looked abruptly at Kelan. “Does this mean your brothers are back? What news from the Velvet Woods?”
“No,” said Kelan. “They arrived separately.” He looked at Aidan. “By way of the Velvet Woods?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Gwen. “Do you know what happened in Isolde’s realm?”
“I have sent spies to gather information, but there is no news yet,” said Faolan. “Something is amiss, this I know—I can sense it in my connection to the realm.”
“Amiss. Yeah, you could call it that,” said Gwen. “Isolde’s second-in-command, Corann, took over rule of the realm. Isolde escaped to the human world to find me. Says I’m her heir and I have to take the throne to bring stability to the realm. Is that why you gave me this?” She pulled the tiara out of Aidan’s backpack, brandished it at Faolan, then set it down on the bench. “Oh, and the decaying restoration spell is creating portals everywhere, according to Loniel.”
Faolan listened to Gwen’s monologue in silence, his face growing stony. There was a hush when Gwen finished.
“I dislike critiquing my fellow rulers, but Isolde is worthy of castigation,” he said at last. “She should have known better than to rely on the restoration spell for so long. And to require it in the first place…” He paced toward the center of the hall and then turned. “And now Wintertree is paying the price. The other realms, too, if my observations are correct.” He waved impatiently at the room of enchantments. “Portals are opening frequently, with no signs of closing. The greatest number are within the Velvet Woods and spread from there into other realms.”
A chill crossed Gwen’s shoulders.
“How many portals?” she asked quietly.
“Dozens, with more every day.” Faolan looked tired.
“Everyone is so gloomy about this,” Bran said, looking around at them all. “Maybe these portals opening is a wonderful opportunity to join the worlds together! I know humans don’t have the best reputation here,” Bran glanced at Gwen and Aidan. “But they really are fun. I’m sure we could learn a lot from each other.”
Bran’s declaration garnered an uncharacteristic twitch of Faolan’s mouth that Gwen was tempted to interpret as an indulgent smile. Then he sighed.
“As admirable as your sentiments may be, Bran, it’s unfortunately an impossibility. If the Gwerud, Loniel, is correct—and with his experience, I suspect he is—then the portals will keep opening until the worlds rip apart. Our inclement weather is only the first sign of the catastrophes to come, I fear.”
“Now what?” said Kelan. “We have to instate Gwen on the throne to close the portals, of course. But how?”
“War,” said Faolan. “The usurper must be removed by force. Mainly because I doubt he will step down without sufficient motivation, but also to send a message to other potential usurpers. It’s an excellent opportunity to remind our people of who rules them and why.”
“The last thing I want is to be queen of the Velvet Woods,” said Gwen, her heart hammering at Faolan’s blasé acceptance of her rule. “That’s why we came here—to ask you if there is any way to change the succession. Everyone always says you have the most powerful magic, so we hoped you would have an answer.”
Faolan stared at her for a moment and looked thoughtful.
“Most desire the throne, so there is not much precedent to inspect. If you’ll allow me to examine you, I can verify your status as heir. It would be prudent to confirm the validity of your claim before we go to war, in any event.”
Faolan walked to the wooden door set into the only wall without windows. He opened it and gestured to Gwen.
“This way.”
***
Gwen walked slowly into the room after a hesitant glance at Bran, who nodded. Faolan entered after and closed the door with a deliberate thud. It was as dark as a moonless night for a few moments, long enough for Gwen’s heart to begin hammering in her chest.
Then, a gentle glow emerged from seven orange flames ensconced in glass-fronted lanterns on the walls. It illuminated Faolan’s room of enchantments, which was far different from Isolde’s.
The room was round and lined with wood, but there the similarities ended. The walls were carved roughly with no discernable pattern or pictures, and splintery wood hung in disintegrating strips. Nothing was polished or oiled except the floor, which gleamed with smooth perfection.
“It’s like we’re in a tree,” said Gwen aloud.
“Very perceptive,” said Faolan. Gwen wasn’t sure if he was serious or mocking her. “The Wintertree, in fact. This palace was built around the remains of t
he great oak of the realm’s beginnings. The Wintertree’s roots run deep, further still when strengthened by generations of my ancestors’ magic.”
“Why was it called the Wintertree?” said Gwen, interested.
“Legend has it that the tree had no leaves, as if in a perpetual winter, yet continued to grow and flourish. Perhaps it was powered by a deeper magic than we now know. Much is lost to time, but the tree remains a powerful link to the land, even in its current state.” Faolan’s voice turned brisk. “Stand in the center of the room and hold your arms out before you.”
Gwen walked forward to the midpoint, her interest in the Wintertree withering in the face of the unknown tests Faolan would do on her. She stood on the inset circle of pale polished wood in the smooth floor and swallowed.
“How much control do you have over your magic?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“I’ve been practicing. I can do a few things. Move things around, small stuff. Portals.”
“Of course. Good, that will make this process easier.” Faolan rolled up his sleeves. “I could perform the tests either way, but it simplifies the procedure. Bring your magic out of your essence into your hands and hold it there for as long as you can.”
“My essence?”
“In here,” he patted his chest. “Where the magic resides.”
“Oh, right.” Gwen quickly closed her eyes and reached into the warm core of magic in her chest, then brought it into her hands.
Faolan stepped in front of her and carefully examined the glowing white light pooled in her palms, first with his eyes, then with fingertips glowing with his own orange light. Occasionally, he sent tendrils of magic to prod her own. His eyes were intense with concentration and reflected the white and orange glows.
It was harder than Gwen had imagined keeping her magic in her hands. It wanted to escape, to work on a spell, and when Gwen didn’t let it, it tried to retreat up her arms. Faolan’s prodding, while not unpleasant, was not comfortable either.
Breenan Series Box Set Page 53