The Wayfarer King

by K. C. May

  “You didn’t kill him, Gavin,” Edan said quietly. “Ravenkind did. He probably would have done it no matter where Rogan was. The sooner we find Daia and Miss Feanna, the sooner we can bring him to justice for his crimes.”

  Those words were like a splash of water in Gavin’s face. Justice. Yes. No more deaths. No more. He stood and set Rogan gently back into the crate, then covered him with the cloth and the lid. He wiped his palms over his face to dry it. Maybe later he’d feel embarrassed about weeping in front of Edan and Tennara but not yet. He focused his grief into purpose: find Ravenkind and kill that bloody whoreson once and for all, then worry about Ritol. “What’s the plan, then?”

  Tennara leaned on the back of a chair. “My liege, we believe Miss Feanna went south to the coffee shop near Canopy Park. Daia started her search in that direction. Perhaps we should go and question the shopkeeper. We should be able to find their trail.”

  “If we’re going to Ravenkind’s lair, we’ll need all the Sisters with us. He has Daia, which means he’s more powerful than ever.”

  Chapter 46

  “Red,” Brodas said, smiling broadly. “You’ve outdone yourself. Welcome, Daia Saberheart. I didn’t expect you so soon. Where’s the sword?”

  Red handed him Daia’s sword. “This was the only one she had with her.”

  He let the smile fall. “My instructions were clear. You were to bring the jeweled sword and the letter.”

  “I merely came looking for someone,” Daia said. “I know nothing about any instructions.”

  Could she have left to find Gavin’s lover before the message had been delivered to the inn, he wondered. In that case, he’d gotten her for free. Gavin wouldn’t know where she was, wouldn’t know where to begin looking for her. True, he didn’t have the gems or the abdication, but once Gavin Kinshield was dead, he would essentially have both. And with Miss Daia’s precious power, Kinshield would be dead very soon.

  “Put her with the others.”

  Red used the point of his sword to guide her into the cottage. Brodas followed them in and removed the gargoyle from the cellar hatch. The other women and six children, sitting on the floor against the walls in the dark, looked up. All wore expressions of defeat. The childrens’ faces were puffy and streaked with tears. Rather than lowering the ladder so Daia could climb down, Red told her to jump in. She sat on the edge of the floor with her legs dangling in.

  “Is anyone hurt?” she asked. “Children?”

  Feanna shook her head and clutched two of the girls closer.

  The older girl’s eyes brightened. “Miss Daia will save us.”

  “Daia,” the swordswoman Nasharla said. “Is King Gavin all right?”

  “King Gavin?” Liera asked in a shrill voice. “Gavin’s the king?”

  “No, he’s not the king,” Brodas snapped. “Now, get down there.”

  “Yes, he is the king,” Daia said, “and as far as I know he’s fine.” She put her hands on the edge of the floor, scooted her arse off while turning, and hung from her hands. She let go and dropped the remaining few feet to the cellar floor. The older girl threw her arms around Daia’s waist. “How did you get here?”

  “A Viragon Sister named Cirang,” Feanna said.

  Brodas motioned to Red to shut the hatch. He didn’t care to hear them compare their sad stories of how they wound up in the cellar together. He had a throne to claim.

  “Red, go get Cirang,” he said. She’d gone to the city center to await Daia, and Brodas would need her here. He would need both of them.

  He retrieved the summoning rune from his satchel then sat with Sevae’s journal open before him. Closing his eyes, Brodas concentrated on what he knew: the rune’s name was Whemorard, and the object of his summoning was Ritol. Soon. Very soon.

  When he stilled his thoughts and focused his spirit sense, it was naturally drawn toward the cellar, toward that source of power that Daia possessed. All he had to do was push past her defenses and seize it.

  Through the closed hatch door, only tiny slivers of light illuminated the cellar, but after a few minutes Daia’s eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  “I’m sorry about Rogan,” Daia told Liera. She made out the shapes of her sons huddled around her, sniffling with grief and fear.

  “This is all Gavin’s doing, isn’t it?” Liera asked sharply. “It’s his fault we’re in here. It’s his fault my husband is dead.”

  Daia understood her need to blame someone, but she also had a duty to protect Gavin. Liera didn’t know all the facts. “Ravenkind killed him. What Gavin did was keep Ravenkind from becoming king. You can’t blame him for doing the right thing.”

  “How can the right thing mean a dead husband and father? Rogan’s never done anything wrong. He was a good man.”

  “I know,” Daia said. “I’m sorry. Gavin tried to prevent this very thing. It’s why he assigned guards to protect you.”

  “A fat lot of good that did,” Liera said. “Look where we are. We’re all going to die!” She burst into tears and hugged her boys closer.

  Daia knew there was nothing she could say to comfort this distraught family or protect them — or Gavin for that matter. Once he realized they were missing, he’d storm in here with the remaining Sisters to fight Ravenkind. And when he did, he would need Daia’s help.

  A vile feeling like creeping fingers of tar reached for her conduit. Ravenkind.

  Brodas felt the strain of pushing in his temples and realized he was getting nowhere. He’d nearly had her a few weeks ago in Sohan. She was stronger now. He was weaker. What was different? He’d had the gems in Gavin’s sword. That was it.

  He rose and went to his chest, pulled out a few gems and sat back down. They weren’t like Gavin’s gems, but they were better than others he’d worked with in the past. After shrugging a few times and loosening his neck, he shut his eyes and tried again, this time focusing through the gems.

  He could see her power with his false eye, a fiery tendril of strength. He reached for it with the source of his magic, but he couldn’t grasp it. It flickered and danced like a flame, easily escaping his every attempt to take hold of it. The gems in his hand cracked from the stress he put on them and crumbled into pieces.

  Frustration knotted the muscles along his spine. He was getting nowhere. With the crown so close, he paced the length of the floor, waiting for Red and Cirang to return. Everything hinged on his ability to use her conduit. There had to be a way to lower her defenses. The drumming of hooves approaching was a welcomed sound. He went out to meet them.

  “Red,” he called. “I need you to get Daia out of the cellar then knock her unconscious.”

  The big man handed his reins to Cirang and followed Brodas inside. Brodas unlocked the cellar hatch, and Red pulled it open, sword ready. “Time to come out and play, Daia.”

  She stood and dusted off her hands.

  “Daia, don’t go,” Liera said. “He’ll kill you.”

  “No, he won’t. I have something he wants, but he won’t get it.” She climbed confidently up the ladder. Red shut the cellar door again and pushed her in front of him. “Whatever you’re hoping to accomplish,” Daia said to Brodas, “you’ll fail. You can’t use me, and Gavin’s much stronger than you can—”

  Red struck her on the side of the neck with the edge of his hand. She crumpled to the floor. Brodas checked her neck for a pulse and found one. Good. Now he should be able to get somewhere.

  Cirang came in examining something in her hands. Brodas recognized the shape of Sithral Tyr’s horrid little cat figurine. “Where did you get that?” he snapped.

  “It was in Daia’s saddle bag. Do you know what it is?”

  Proof that Sithral Tyr was dead. He wouldn’t have parted from it willingly, especially after Brodas had held it captive for nearly two years to secure Tyr’s service. “It contains the soul of the Nilmarion Sithral Tyr. You’d be wise to bury it somewhere and forget it.”

  After retrieving another gem from his cache, Brod
as took his seat and shut his eyes. He took hold of Daia’s lovely orange tendril of power, gripping tightly. Strength surged into him with such force, he gasped.

  “My liege?” Cirang asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. More than fine. Quiet now, let me concentrate.” In truth, he was practically giddy. Never had he dreamed an unhindered connection with a mystical conduit could be so exhilarating. It took a moment for him to calm down enough to focus. When at last he was ready, holding three gems in one hand and the summoning rune in the other, he whispered, “Ritol, I summon you to me by the power of the rune Whemorard.”

  Something in the air shifted suddenly, like a wind being jerked. A slit formed in the room, like those he’d found and opened to let beyonders in. But this one was different. This one was bright in comparison and blue rather than red. At first, he was afraid he’d mistakenly summoned something else, something other than Ritol, the prince of beyonders, but when he saw the black foot come through with its four obsidian talons, he knew he’d done it. The monster crawled completely into the cottage, and the slit snapped shut. Brodas’s ears popped.

  Ritol smelled like a piece of meat that had been left to rot in the sun for hours. Its face was hideous to behold, with eyes the very definition of terror and a mouth that opened to reveal death itself. It was smaller than he thought it would be, and it didn’t stand on two legs as Sevae’s journal had described. Instead, it slumped on the floor, quivering like a dog nearly dead from starvation. Again, Brodas wondered whether he had erred. This thing looked too weak to hurt a field mouse, let alone battle Gavin Kinshield and his forces.

  Red and Cirang both stepped back, their faces filled with terror and disbelief.

  Brodas stood. “Don’t be afraid. It’s completely under my command while it’s in this realm. Ritol, welcome. It’s an honor to have your service.”

  “I... hunger...” it said in a tritonal voice that was discordant and horrific. The sound twisted the very soul, making Brodas want to slink away to avoid ever hearing it again.

  “And you will be fed.” Brodas plastered a smile onto his face that felt more like a grimace. “Red, fetch one of the swordswomen from below.”

  Cirang’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  “What about that one?” he asked, pointing at Daia.

  “No. She’s more valuable to me alive. I’m done with her for now. Put her back in the cellar.”

  Red and Cirang took Daia by the arms. When they started to drag her toward the cellar opening, she groaned and opened her eyes. “By Yrys,” she whispered. She jerked her arms out of their grasp and began crawling like a crab backward, away from Ritol. “You fool! What have you done?”

  Red grabbed a handful of her hair and hauled her to the cellar’s edge. None too gently, he pushed her over, and she fell in with a thud and a grunt.

  “Daia, are you hurt?” someone asked.

  “I’m all right,” Daia said. She sat up, rubbing her head.

  “What’s that smell?” the youngest boy asked.

  “That’s what evil smells like,” the swordswoman Nasharla said, glaring up at Brodas.

  “That one,” he said. “Bring her.”

  Chapter 47

  Once he’d mounted his warhorse, Gavin gazed at his ring with his hidden eye. Its thread stretched toward the southern-most district, the part of Tern that had burned a couple of years earlier. He searched for Daia with his hidden eye and found her amidst several other hazes, hazes he recognized. “She’s in the Garnet district.” He heeled Golam to a trot and set off toward the south.

  “How do you know it’s her?” Edan asked, riding up alongside him.

  “Her haze is different from everyone else’s. Whatever it is that makes her a conduit, I can see in her haze. Everyone’s with her — Feanna, Liera, the children, Dona and Nasharla. There are three others too, but I don’t recognize their hazes. I’m betting one’s Ravenkind.”

  “Let’s hope they’re unharmed.”

  Ravenkind better hope not even a hair is out o’place on their heads.

  Tennara cantered ahead of the group, shouting, “Make way!” to clear a path for Gavin, Edan and the remaining nine Sisters to ride at a trot. Townsfolk scrambled to move their horses, donkeys and carting dogs to the curb, many cursing and gesturing rudely in complaint.

  From a popular brothel emerged the blond warrant knight, Adro Fiendsbane, who watched in surprise as Gavin and his contingent thundered past. A few minutes later, someone behind Gavin shouted his name. Adro galloped on his mount to catch up. “Gavin! Do you need another sword?”

  Gavin waved him forward. “We could use another strong arm. Join us if you will.” Adro was an excellent fighter and would be a welcomed addition to their force.

  “What’s happening?” Adro asked.

  “Brodas Ravenkind’s holding hostage my sister-in-law and nephews, three Viragon Sisters, my lady Feanna and her children.”

  “He has Miss Feanna?” Adro’s expression turned angry. “Hell’s teeth!”

  Gavin felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness. He knew well Adro’s penchant for seducing women, even at the cost of his honor. It was the reason behind the brand on his forearm.

  As they continued south for several blocks, the activity on the street thinned. Soon, evidence of the fire became apparent in the scorched trees and blackened walls. Homes were empty, businesses abandoned. They were getting close.

  A sudden pressure in the air made Gavin’s ears feel as if they were stuffed with cotton. “What the hell?” Something was horribly wrong.

  “What’s wrong?” Edan asked.

  “Do you feel that?” Gavin wiggled a finger in his left ear, trying to lessen the pressure. A moment later, it was gone, and his ears snapped back to normal.

  Aldras Gar!

  “I don’t feel anything. What is it?”

  He saw a new haze join the others. It had the dark, violent energy of a beyonder except magnified a thousand-fold. It reeked of vileness. It embodied the very definition of chaos. Looking at it was like staring at his own death. A deep sense of dread rippled through his body. His instinct told him to flee, though he knew he could never escape it. It would come for him, hunt him relentlessly until it killed him and devoured his soul and King Arek’s magic with it.

  Ritol.

  Aldras Gar!

  “Stop,” he said, reining Golam in. “We’re too late. It’s here. Somehow he set it free.” He heard the tremor in his voice. No doubt about it, he was terrified.

  Edan and the Sisters stopped their horses. “Gavin? What’s wrong? What are you talking about?”

  “Ritol’s not trapped in the palace anymore. Ravenkind must’ve had the other summoning rune. It’ll be coming for me.”

  On Tennara’s lead, the Sisters drew their weapons. Edan nocked an arrow in his bow.

  Beside him, Adro followed suit. “What’s our plan?”

  Gavin ran through the options in his mind: try to fight an immortal being long enough to tire it out and hope it flees until they form a better plan, or return to the past and beg Arek to give Gavin the summoning rune. He would have to convince Arek to bring the rune to the Garnet district and hide it somewhere in the rocks... and hope that the next two centuries wouldn’t disturb it. No. What if the rune Ravenkind used was the one he’d found in Arek’s hiding place? Then the answer shone in the front of his mind, clear and bright as the morning sun. There was one place Brodas Ravenkind couldn’t go.

  “I got an idea,” he said. “Wait for me here.” Edan and the Sisters would obey his command. He looked at Adro. “Don’t try to fight that thing. You won’t win.”

  “Gav, what are you going to do?” Edan asked.

  “Something I should’ve done two hundred years ago.”

  Gavin dismounted and pulled the Rune of the Past from his coin pouch. With his haze, he reached toward Daia. She took hold of him and fed him her strength. He took some comfort in the fact that she knew he was trying to help them.


  Thinking back to his visit with Arek, he estimated he’d been in the palace roughly a half-hour, but his timing had to be perfect. He’d glanced at the clock shortly before he’d been swept away. Had it said nine forty? He didn’t know if his memory was accurate, or the clock for that matter, but it was his best guess. Maybe try a few minutes earlier to be sure.

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

  He opened a vortex and went through.

  A wave of dizziness spun his mind. The room swerved out of focus, and he blinked to rein his vision back in. He found himself sitting before the comforting fire in the palace library.

  Arek put a reassuring hand on Gavin’s arm. “Listen. I have an idea. I can’t do it now since I’m planning to venture into Ritol’s realm and summon...”

  He’d done it. This was only moments before he’d been kicked back to his own time under the bridge.

  “...hidden so no one would happen upon it,” Arek was saying, “but somewhere you’ll know to look. Come back in a week or two and we’ll agree on a hiding place.”

  Gavin’s voice nearly caught in his throat. “Awright then. I’ll come back.” He met the king’s intelligent blue gaze and wondered if he already knew.