The Wayfarer King

by K. C. May

  The clopping of hooves on stone grew louder, as did the jingle and creak of saddles and tack. Gavin knew who his visitor was before the man had come close enough to see clearly in the dim light of the rising moon. Gavin gestured with his head at the approaching riders. “Looks like the lordover’s come to lip-shine my boots for me.” He stood and offered his hand to help Trevick up. “Want an introduction?”

  “Not really.”

  Gavin chuckled and bid him good night.

  The two Sisters standing guard outside took positions in front of Gavin and slightly to each side as the riders approached. Their horses high-stepped in time with each other as if they’d been trained for some kind of ceremony. Their manes were styled into braids and loops. It looked like something the hens would laugh at. Gavin would cut the hand off anyone who tried to do that to Golam.

  “Announcing His Excellency, Dashel Venn Celónd, Lordover Tern,” the lead man said. He bowed and stepped away to the side with a sweep of his arm.

  The Lordover Tern rode up on his prim, prancing horse and stopped. Gavin almost expected him to dismount onto a velvet pillow, but he climbed down like a regular buck. The lordover approached and bowed with a flourish. “Your Royal Majesty,” he said, his head still low and his arm still swept across his chest. He seemed to wait for Gavin to say something. Gavin was amused by the display and wanted to see what would happen next. At last, the lordover straightened. “Good evening.” Behind the horses, a footman was helping a young lady out of a carriage. Oh, hell. Not now.

  “Last time I saw you, Celónd, you were insulting my character and kicking me out o’your office.”

  For one brief moment, Celónd looked aghast. “You hadn’t given me a chance to know you, my lord.”

  “I believe the proper way to address a king is ’my liege,’ my lord.”

  Celónd shot him a spiteful smile. “Of course, my liege. If you would allow me to introduce my beautiful daughter, Naome Dashia Celónd.”

  “You may as well save your breath.”

  The girl approached and curtsied low, dirtying her frilly, yellow gown on the street. “Your majesty,” she said in a breathy tone he imagined was supposed to be enticing. “It’s my life’s greatest honor to meet you.” She cast her eyes down. There was little chance she would know him on the street if they met during the daylight.

  Gavin rolled his eyes. He should have tried harder to convince Edan to be king. “It’s my pleasure.”

  She offered her hand. He thought he was supposed to bow over it and kiss it or something, but his lips were only for Feanna. He bowed, but he didn’t kiss.

  “Good evening, Father.” Daia came out and stood beside Gavin.

  “Dashielle,” Celónd said. “Nice to see you’re alive.”

  “Her name’s Daia now,” Gavin said, “and she’s my champion, so I expect her to receive the same respect and courtesy you’ll show all the members o’my staff.”

  Celónd pressed his lips together and said nothing.

  “’Omie,” Daia said gently as she leaned in to kiss her sister’s cheek. “It’s lovely to see you.” Her eyes glistened.

  “Daia,” Naome said, smiling. “Mother will be so glad to know you’re well.”

  “Perhaps we could go inside.” Celónd gestured as though to usher Gavin into the inn.

  “It’s late,” Gavin said. “We’ve had a tiring day. Another time, maybe.” He bowed toward Naome. “My lady, sorry you got dressed up for nothing. You should know that I’m already courting a lady and won’t be considering any others unless she declines my proposal.”

  “Now, Gavin,” Celónd said, “your choice of a bride needn’t be made in haste.”

  “My choice of a bride is mine to make, Dashel.”

  Celónd sighed. “Of course, my liege, but putting a common-born woman in such a position of power might not be the best choice. She’s to be our country’s queen.”

  Gavin felt his face burn. “Such a woman is better suited to sit beside a common-born king than the child of a noble-born jackass.”

  Daia laughed into her fist.

  Naome looked at his face for the first time. Gavin hoped she recognized that the insult wasn’t directed at her but at her father.

  Celónd’s face reddened, and he cleared his throat. “If you agree to accompany Naome to a few social functions and take the time to get to know her, I’ll give you this rune, kept safe by my family for generations.” He opened his palm to reveal a round, flat stone with a symbol deeply carved into its surface.

  Gavin had seen the rune many times in his nightmares. It was the one the queen had been clutching when Ronor found her slain in the cave. King Arek had given Ronor one as well, though Ronor had given his back to the king at the moment of their last farewell. Gavin would be damned if he let Celónd get away with a lie. “I was told you bartered it for information. Now you’re trying to barter it again?”

  “I’m merely trying to help you avoid a costly mistake.” Celónd put the rune into his pocket.

  “Give me the damned rune.”

  With an angry scowl, Celónd slapped it into Gavin’s outstretched palm. “It appears we’ve gotten off to an unfortunate start. Naome and I will visit again later, when we’re all in a more cordial mood.” He started to leave but stopped and pulled a folded paper from his vest. “This bill for a mail hauberk was mistakenly delivered to the wrong address,” he said, shoving the bill at Daia. Without another word, he took Naome by the arm and led her to the carriage.

  “You haven’t dismissed him,” Daia murmured. “You could call him back and make him wait.”

  Gavin chuckled. “I won’t win a contest o’pompousness with him. Come on.” He turned his back on the lordover and went inside.

  Feanna had returned and was sitting with Edan at the table, talking and laughing. Her eyes brightened when Gavin approached.

  “The Lordover Tern gave me a peace offering,” Gavin said as he sat. He held up the Rune of Protection. “He’s trying to buy his way back into my good graces.”

  “Is that what I think it is?” Daia asked. She took her seat beside Edan and poured herself some wine. “The summoning rune?”

  “No.” Gavin picked up Feanna’s hand and placed it into her palm. “It’s for protection against magical attacks. I want you to keep it with you. If you need to use it, say its name: Kiloenth.”

  “You’ll need this, won’t you?” she asked.

  “It won’t help me.”

  “Of course, that’s not all he wanted,” Daia said. “Didn’t I warn you?”

  Gavin told Feanna, “He brought his daughter.”

  “Oh?” Her face flushed, though she tried to hide her discomfort with a smile. “I’ll bet she’s beautiful.”

  “Yeh, she was comely enough, but I’m betting it took an hour to fix her hair.”

  Daia said, “More like three. It’s painstaking work to get the ringlets just so.”

  “No! Gavin, stop!” he said in a falsetto. “You’ll mess up my hair.” Everyone laughed. “I prefer a woman who looks as beautiful with her hair brushed and styled with a simple clip.” He looked pointedly at Feanna then leaned toward her to say in a low voice, “And to be clear, I mean you.”

  Feanna smiled. “Are you always this charming?”

  Daia shook her head regretfully. Gavin gaped at her in disbelief. “When am I not charming?”

  Her expression told him the answer to that was obvious.

  Chapter 40

  The evening Gavin spent with Feanna was inspiring in more ways than one. He was certain that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with and make queen for the country he loved. To do that, he first had to defeat Ritol, and the first step in doing that was to talk to King Arek. The sooner he got what he needed, the sooner he could expel the thing and seal the rift. The sooner he did that, the fewer who would die from beyonder attacks... and the sooner he could wed his lady.

  Gavin sat in his room in the dark, running his thumb over the carvin
g in the rune Bahnna had made for him. The Rune of the Past.

  Visit the previous Wayfarer to find out where he left the Rune of Summoning Rarga made.

  Chances were good that King Arek died with the Rune of Summoning in his possession, but his bones were trapped in the palace with Ritol. If what he’d written was true, then back-traveling to take it from Arek’s corpse while the demon was unaware wouldn’t be possible.

  I take with me only what I back-travel with, and I have no power over life and death.

  There were two runes of summoning. Crigoth Sevae had the other. Finding that one would be as good. Any information King Arek could give him about Sevae and where he lived would help put him on that path.

  He put on his sword, grabbed a candle and slipped out of his room. A guard started to rise from her stool at his approach, but he waved her back down. “I only need a flame.” He lighted his candle from her lamp then went to Daia’s door and tapped. When she didn’t answer, he pushed on it and found it unbolted. “Daia,” he whispered.

  She shot out of bed and into a fighting stance before she realized it was him, then grabbed the blanket to cover herself. The candle light wasn’t bright enough for him to see her anyway, so she needn’t have bothered. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I need you to read me the parts in Laemyr’s book about the Rune o’the Past.”

  “Now? It’s the mirknight.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  She sighed, then rustled some cloth. “All right. Would you light the lamp?”

  He found the oil lamp on her table and lighted it, then dialed up the wick and blew out the candle. “Sorry to get you up. It’s important.”

  “Is there a reason this couldn’t wait until morning?”

  “I want to be back by the time Feanna wakes.” Thinking of her made him smile. He wondered what she looked like in the morning with her hair tousled and her eyes barely open.

  “You’re quite fetching when you’re smitten.” Daia gave him a teasing nudge.

  “The first thing I’m going to do as king,” Gavin said, “is to outlaw describing the king as fetching. Read.”

  “Curmudgeon.” As she sat on the bed, taking the book with her, she gestured to the stool near the table. She bent her head and started to flip pages. “Let’s see. Back-traveling... no power over life and death... best suited for gaining information... All right, here we are. To journey between the present day and times gone by, I simply hold in my hand the Rune of the Past. As I step into the vortex, I use intent to place myself in the correct time. I cannot bring lost items back from the past, nor can I travel to a nonspecific period such as when man invented the wheel or first tamed a horse, or when my wife misplaced her pearl earring.” Daia paused and read silently for a moment then looked up. “That’s as specific as it gets. It goes on to talk about how the rune was made.”

  Gavin nodded. “Awright. Guess I’ll have to try it myself and see.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Now. Put your boots on, and let’s go to the palace gate.”

  The city was quiet as they trotted their horses through the moon-lit streets, with only an occasional beggar moaning or coughing from the dark shadows. The horses’ hooves clomped loudly on the pavement and echoed against the stone buildings as they passed, threatening to wake the citizens or alert the city guard. Most of the cressets had long burned out, but the few remaining flames jerked and sputtered in the warm breeze.

  Daia cast an occasional glance into the night sky as they rode. “Are you sure this will work?”

  “Don’t worry,” Gavin said. “I’ll protect you from the bats.” He laughed and moved Golam closer so he could tickle the back of her neck, knowing she was terrified of the critters.

  She slapped at his hand. “You’re such a comedian. Listen, what if there’s no vortex near the palace?” Daia asked.

  Gavin grinned. “That’s why I have you.”

  “I don’t understand. King Arek wrote—”

  “Yeh, I know, but he didn’t have a mystical conduit by his side. To see the vortexes, he had to go where the world’s heart beat more loudly, or so the Elyle told me. With you helping me, I can see them anywhere. That’s what I was practicing on the way to Tern.”

  “Then we could’ve done this back at the inn.” She glanced around at the sky above.

  Gavin supposed she could have stayed at the inn, since he’d have been able to find her and draw her strength from there, but he preferred to have her with him his first time. “I don’t want to gamble on the Elegance Inn being two hundred years old. I’m guessing I shift time but not location. I want to start off somewhere safe, somewhere that’s surely existed unchanged since King Arek’s time.”

  Daia accepted his answer with silence. As they neared the palace, he heard the distant roar of the waterfall from Mount Athraya that fed Tern’s main water source, the River Athra. The sound concealed the excited beating of his heart, though if Gavin was honest with himself, he’d have admitted he was a bit nervous as well, for he was soon to meet not only the man responsible for his predicament but hopefully King Arek himself.

  The moonlight reflected on the calm waters of Lake Athra. On an island in the center of the lake sat the palace, dark and foreboding behind a tall iron fence. Moonlight glanced off the slate roof and disappeared in the overgrown bushes and weeds below. Shards of broken glass still hanging within the window frames gleamed like wicked fangs. Gavin had seen the palace many times in daylight and thought the sight of it unsettling. Now it looked downright wicked.

  “Where do you want to do this?” Daia asked. “It would be a good idea to be out of sight when you enter the vortex. A man walking out of nothingness might upset people.”

  Gavin looked around. Behind the short brick wall retaining the water’s edge were many old stone buildings. He imagined they’d once been sturdy and beautiful, but in recent years, only the poor and the mad were willing to take up residence near the palace with its gloomy air. Regal Street ended at the base of a stone and wooden bridge that arced over the front of the lake. The bridge wasn’t passable due to rotted wood and would need to be repaired soon. The rusted iron gate on the other side of the bridge was chained shut and secured with three heavy padlocks. “Under the bridge,” he said. Beneath the lowest slope of the bridge, the ground was dry. Close to the water’s edge, a few mushrooms had sprouted from the moist dirt.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Daia asked.

  Gavin shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

  “It’d be nice to have some idea whether I should wait here for two hours or two days.”

  “Give me three hours. If I can’t get what I need this time, I can go back later.” They dismounted, and he handed Golam’s reins to Daia. “I wish you could come with me.”

  “As do I.” She absently pushed Golam’s face away when he tried to nibble her ear. “Be cautious. We don’t know how anyone will react to you. Your style of dress will probably mark you as a beggar.”

  “Aww, hell. I ha’n’t thought o’that. I got my sword, though. It doesn’t look like a beggar’s weapon.”

  “A beggar with a jeweled sword might find himself in gaol. Maybe you should leave it with me.”

  He shook his head. Leaving Aldras Gar behind would be like leaving his right arm. “I’ll manage.” He gave her a measuring glance. “You going to be awright here alone with the bats?”

  “Leave off, Kinshield. I’m not as frightened of them as you seem to think.”

  He pulled the rune from his coin pouch. “I’m thinking I should get there in the morning a week afore the king died. Does that sound awright to you?”

  Daia drew her brow. “I knew I should’ve paid better attention in my history lessons. If I remember it correctly, King Arek was hunting Sevae until a few days prior to his death. Maybe the eighth of Nevebria is a good bet, since he died on the tenth.”

  A tickle in his memory told him she was right. “Got it.” He shut his eyes and
focused first on drawing strength from Daia, then on finding the vortex. After a few minutes of forcing himself to relax, he saw it. It was getting easier with practice, but he still felt like a boy attempting to do a man’s work with neither the strength nor skill the job required. He closed his fingers around the rune.

  Nine o’clock in the morning o’the eighth o’Nevebria, in the year fourteen thirty-one.

  With the date and time firmly planted in his mind, Gavin whispered the name of the rune, stepped through the vortex when it was blue, the color of his own realm, and felt his stomach somersault.

  Chapter 41

  Gavin braced himself against the underside of the bridge until the dizziness passed. Around him were sounds of a lively market — the clopping of horses’ hooves on the stone streets, voices of merchants crying their wares, and something Gavin didn’t hear often on the streets of Tern: laughter. The bells of the nearby Spirit of the Savior Holy Temple began to toll. He stepped into the sunlight hoping it would take the chill off, but the cold Nevebria air seeped relentlessly into his blood. He cursed himself for forgetting to bring a cloak. A light dusting of snow covered the bare tree branches and browned grass. He supposed that his first visit to the past was bound to be plagued with mistakes. Hopefully none of them would land him in gaol or worse.

  On the street, he drew the eye of many, undoubtedly due to his summery white cotton tunic with sleeves cut above the elbows. A few whispered behind their hands as they watched him standing there, shivering in the cold. Only the mad or very poor would be out in this weather dressed as he was. Everyone else wore dark cloaks of thick wool or fur-lined leather with hats and gloves. Nothing to do now but get inside and warm up by a fire. He scanned the street, weighing his options. The palace was across the bridge, and he didn’t know where he’d find the nearest inn.

  “You poor dear,” an elderly woman said as she hobbled toward him. “Get inside before you catch your death. Do you need a coin to buy a warm drink?”