Gwyn: Light Chaser Legends Book 2

by Cantwell, J. B.

  She knew what was coming next, that he would put her to the test, maybe for hours. Sometimes he had the energy for that, patience, even. Other times he would quickly grow tired and angry with her and return her to her mother for safekeeping.

  Today, he dragged her through the family’s quarters, past her brothers’ rooms and Bevyn’s tiny chamber. She could hear him coughing from behind the door, and she knew she wouldn’t need to visit him in the dungeons that night. This fact did not comfort her, though. With Father home and in a foul mood, she was certain Bevyn would’ve been safer chained up to that rock wall.

  Today, Torin surprised her and took her through the main drawing room and down out into the courtyard.

  The castle stood atop a rock outcropping, a lonely place overlooking an empty sea, the Opal Sea. The weather was always cold, the salty air whipping all around, even within the castle courtyard. Gwyn shivered, not having anticipated this.

  He wouldn’t have let you get a sweater anyway.

  This place, the Opal Kingdom, was well suited to Torin. It was cold and so far out of the way that no one dared fight him for it. He wasn’t a king, though he probably thought of himself as one. Or maybe even something grander. A master. A chief.

  A god.

  He finally let go of her arm, and it took all she had not to touch where he’d been holding her. She could feel blood trickling down across her skin and tears trickling down across her cheeks. But she didn’t dare sob. Instead, she glared right into his evil eyes.

  “Stay here,” he demanded.

  He walked all the way to the other end of the courtyard, an empty place that had once been vibrant. Gwyn wondered who had lived there. Perhaps the sea had not been so cold back then.

  “Have you practiced?” he called, turning around.

  If he only knew.

  “Yes, Father,” she called in return.

  “And?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, a dangerous act. “And nothing,” she said. “I don’t have your powers.”

  “You’re a liar!”

  From his hand, he let loose a bolt of lightning, letting it hit only inches from her feet.

  “Fight back!”

  She knew that someday she was going to have to save her own life or that of her mother.

  But not today.

  “I can’t, Father!”

  “Hold out your hands and fight me!”

  She held up her hands, using them to shield her body from his attack. She didn’t think he would hurt her, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she was a girl. Or maybe it was because she was a child. Either way, she knew if she were to return to the room she shared with Mother in bad shape, all hope Torin might have had in rekindling their romance would be lost forever.

  He seemed to know this. And he seemed angry about it.

  Another bolt of lightning struck right in front of her shoes. Inches away. A particularly frozen breeze swept through the courtyard, and she shivered, wearing only a dress with thin stockings. His return had been a surprise, and she hadn’t been ready for him, thinking that they would be practicing within the walls of the castle.

  “Again!”

  This time the bolt singed her red, flowing hair, and she yelped, jumping aside.

  It was time to pretend.

  She pushed her hands out away from her chest and aimed right at Father’s heart. Then, she scrunched up her face to make it look as though she were trying to create magic from where there was none.

  His bolts came again and again, and again and again, she moved her hands around, mimicking his own movements. He started to approach her, and bolts of lightning became thicker, more concentrated.

  Finally, as he stood before her, he stared down and stopped the attack.

  “It’s just as I thought,” he said. “You haven’t practiced at all, have you?”

  “Yes, Father,” she said. “I’ve practiced every night inside our room.”

  He leaned over and put his hands on her shoulders, his face right before hers, inches away. She dared not look into his eyes.

  “You are a liar,” he said, smiling strangely.

  Then he did something he hadn’t done before. He shook her with his hands, and the back and forth made her head hurt.

  “Admit it!”

  Don’t give in.

  “Tell me the truth!”

  She began to cry; she couldn’t help it. He was frightening her. Somehow, she could take the threat of his power, take it and brush it off as if it were nothing to her.

  But his hands were on her now, and her head was rolling. She worried that his hands might grip around her neck next.

  “Father! Please! I practiced. I swear.”

  Finally, he stopped, and with one swift movement, he pushed her to the ground, where she knocked her head upon the stone. She thought he might spit on her, but what he did next was even worse.

  “Fine,” he said. “I think it’s time for me to have a little visit with your brother.”

  Year 9

  Nine years old and growing taller every day.

  Gwyn tried to imagine how powerful she might be if she’d actually taken the training her father had insisted upon. Maybe she could even beat him now in a duel. Every day she daydreamed about this, planned for the day that she would let loose and fight him.

  Her mother had different plans, though. For the past year, she’d been talking to Gwyn about escaping the castle, going back home to the Veiled Kingdom. Riona had never been banished, and though she had no family there, Gwyn knew she hoped she would find safety.

  “I’d rather live on the street than live here another moment,” Riona would say.

  The castle was cold; that much was for sure. But when Gwyn thought about what life would be like living in the street, part of her wanted to stay where she was. She was scared about what kind of life she and her mother might have outside of the castle, away from the Opal Sea.

  Occasionally, late at night, Gwyn would slip away from her mother’s room and climb high in the tower, looking out over the empty, cursed ocean. She’d never seen a ship there, never even seen an animal. No birds, no whales. Perhaps the water was too cold, maybe too salty. Maybe people just knew to stay away.

  She didn’t know how long her father had been at the castle. Her brother, Phalen, had told her that it had been decades before the children had come. And with each new birth, Mother’s health had declined more and more. He told her their father blamed Gwyn, that after she was born, her mother never set foot out of bed again.

  Gwyn didn’t know if this was true. It was cruel for him to tell her so, but it wasn’t inconceivable.

  After another year of trying, Torin had given up on Gwyn. His belief that she was without magic seemed to make him hate her even more. But instead of attacking her, he left her alone. He left her mother alone, too.

  But her brothers had not.

  It seemed that with each passing year, their cruelty increased. They enjoyed toying with her brother, Bevyn, just as her father did. She was always relieved when the three of them, Torin, Phalen, and Varik, went away together. Then, she could have as much time in the dungeon with Bevyn as she wanted. Sometimes he seemed almost happy to live down there. Once, they had been gone for nearly six months. That had been one of the happiest times in her life so far.

  But when they arrived home, all bets were off. Phalen, especially, enjoyed challenging her to fight. She was certain that her father had instructed him to leave her alone, but he did no such thing. Instead, when her father was drunk or asleep or away, Phalen would attack her. It was becoming harder and harder for her to resist. She knew that if he really hurt her, he would pay the price for it. Still, when he was around, she didn’t dare leave the room she shared with her mother. The mere fact that she could slip away at any time would clue him in. And then what?

  One night, her father knocked on Riona and Gwyn’s bedroom door. This was strange, as he’d never bothered to knock in the past, preferring instead to
come crashing in.

  Gwyn looked up at the sound, confused. The knocks from the servants who usually brought them their meals were much softer. This knock, however, was hard and loud.

  Riona and Gwyn looked at each other, then Riona spoke up.

  “Enter,” she said as loudly as she could.

  The lock quickly disengaged, and the door flew open, Torin on the other side of it.

  “Oh,” her mother said. “For a moment, I thought you were the servant with early dinner.”

  “I am no servant,” her father said.

  “No, of course, you’re not.”

  Torin looked between Riona and Gwyn, then paused, seemingly unsure.

  This got Gwyn’s attention. Her father was never unsure.

  “Gwyn,” he said. “I expect to see you at dinner tonight.”

  Then he turned on his heel and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  But not locking it.

  “What was that about?” Gwyn asked.

  Her mother shrugged but struggled to sit up in the bed.

  Gwyn walked across the room to help her, but Riona refused it.

  “Mother, please,” Gwyn said.

  Her mother ignored her plea and instead looked at her with anxious eyes.

  “He’s testing you,” she said. “You must be careful. They will try to hurt you.”

  “They?” she asked.

  “The three of them.” Her mother looked out the window. “The sun is setting; you must get ready. Quickly, go to the wardrobe.”

  Gwyn did as her mother instructed, though she wasn’t sure why. Her mother had several gowns appropriate for almost any occasion, but though Gwyn had grown, she was still too small for any of them.

  But she did as she was told and opened the doors.

  “Take out the green one,” her mother said, looking around.

  “But mother, I won’t fit,” Gwyn said.

  “The green one is the smallest,” her mother said. “I have pins. We can make it fit.”

  Gwyn’s heart started racing, but she did as her mother commanded and retrieved the green dress.

  “The pins are at the back,” Riona said.

  Gwyn fetched them as well and laid the whole thing out onto the bed.

  “Undress,” Riona said. “Quickly.”

  “But mother…”

  “Gwyn, do not argue with me. If you want to spare a beating, you will do as I say.”

  She turned around and let her mother undo the many buttons that lined the backside of her day dress. Then, as Gwyn was standing there in her underclothes, her mother lifted up the green dress.

  “You’re bigger than I was when I was your age,” Riona said. “Though this was the first dress I wore here when we arrived. I was seventeen, but I was very ill and slim. Sicker than I am now.”

  Gwyn tried to imagine that, but she couldn’t. To her, her mother had always been so terribly ill. The idea of her being even worse was frightening to Gwyn.

  How would she ever survive if her mother were to die?

  “Gwyn.”

  Gwyn had gotten lost in thought, had forgotten the issue at hand. She went to the bed, picked up the dress, and put her feet inside the skirt one by one. Then, she pulled the whole thing up until it was resting upon her shoulders.

  She turned to look at herself in the mirror, and she knew she looked ridiculous. The dress puckered over where she might’ve had breasts. She looked down, embarrassed, and covered her chest with her arms.

  “Stop that,” Riona said. “Move your arms. Let me see you.”

  Gwyn did as she was told and lowered her arms.

  Her mother nodded. “You’re just tall enough. You can wear my high-heeled boots. That will help. Now come here.”

  Gwyn walked forward, and her mother immediately got to work on the bodice of the dress, drawing in the embarrassing puckers along the chest until the fabric lay flat upon her undeveloped body.

  Gwyn looked at her mother, surprised at her sudden sense of urgency. She had several pins in her mouth, and she quickly stuck them into the dress, working magic on the folds of fabric that were made for a woman.

  Riona spent half an hour working with the dress until finally, she was ready for Gwyn to see herself in the mirror.

  “Now look,” her mother said.

  Gwyn turned around, nearly flinching; she was so nervous. She fully expected to look like a little child dressed in her mother’s gown, for that was what she was, wasn’t she?

  But when she looked in the mirror, she had to look twice because she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She turned slightly, for a moment thinking that maybe there was another girl in the room with them. But no, it was only her. And while she was, in fact, dressed in her mother’s gown, she did not look like a little child.

  She looked like herself. And she looked like Riona.

  She looked beautiful.

  “Now, give me your feet so I can put on the boots,” Riona said.

  Gwyn fetched the boots from the armoire and brought them to the bed. She hesitated, not wanting to dirty the bed with mud from the bottom of the boots. But she needn’t have worried. She picked one up, intending to clean it, but then found it was already as good as new. She hoisted one foot up onto the side of the bed and handed her mother the boot.

  As Riona laced her up, she hummed a tune Gwyn didn’t recognize. Music wasn’t allowed in the castle, and her mother never sang. But now, on the verge of a big change, something was happening. Something was happening in her mother’s mind, and it must’ve given her hope, for why else would she hum?

  “Okay now, the other,” her mother said.

  Gwyn dropped one foot and lifted the other, then almost immediately fell to one side from the height of the heel on the boot she was now wearing. She ripped her bare foot from her mother’s hands to steady herself, nearly falling to the floor. She felt the stinging prick on her side from one of the pins in the dress.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said. “I’ve never….”

  “There isn’t time,” Riona said quietly. “Just try again.”

  Her mother’s voice, while hurried, was soft, and this fact soothed Gwyn. She did as she was told, this time holding on to the edge of the bed for balance.

  “All done,” Riona said. “Have another look.”

  Gwyn hobbled over to the mirror, feeling foolish. But once again, she was greeted by that otherworldly thing, that girl from another time who fit into her mother’s dress, who didn’t look like a fool. She turned around and watched as the skirt of the gown flew away from her body. It was still too long, but she could hold it up as she walked.

  She took a couple of tentative steps back toward the bed, but she nearly fell, catching her mother’s hands before she hit the ground.

  Riona chuckled, and Gwyn looked up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her mother laugh. It had been so long ago that she wondered if she’d ever heard her at all.

  “You’ll need to practice,” Riona said. “Hold up the dress so you can see your feet, and practice walking around the room. You still have a little time.”

  Gwyn lifted up the dress, and within a few minutes, she found she was able to walk from one end of the room to the other without falling.

  “If we had more time, I could raise the skirt of the dress, but the sun is down now, and you must go.”

  “Where do I go?” Gwyn asked.

  At this question, her mother’s face fell. Gwyn didn’t know why, and the abrupt change concerned her. Then, horrified, she saw teardrops threatening in her mother’s eyes.

  “Don’t mind me,” Riona said, shaking her head. “When you leave the room, go down to the end of the hall and then left. Do you remember which side is left?”

  It was a silly question, a stupid question, but Gwyn was only nine, and sometimes she still got confused.

  She held up her left hand.

  “Very good. Now, once you’re at the end of the hall on the left, you’ll see the dinin
g room on the right. That’s where they’ll be waiting for you. Quickly now, you must go.”

  Suddenly, Gwyn was scared. No matter how pretty the girl in the mirror looked, that girl was someone else. She, Gwyn, was about to head into battle, and all by herself. Her eyes flitted about the room, panic threatening to overtake her.

  “Gwyn, come here,” her mother said.

  Riona’s voice was grounding for her, and she took a couple of wobbly steps in her direction. Her mother gripped her hands tightly.

  “You are stronger than all three of them combined,” Riona said. “You have my talent, but not your father’s thirst for malice.”

  “But Mother, if that’s true, why must I be angry for my magic to work?”

  “That’s easy. You have no training, no freedom with which to test yourself, to try different tactics, different tricks. You were born of a crazy man, but not a powerful one. Not like you. You must trust me, for you are my child, and your power comes from me.”

  “How can you say that Father isn’t powerful? That doesn’t make any—”

  “One day, you’ll know all there is to know about your father. But tonight, you must focus on the here and now. They will test you. They will abuse you. But you mustn’t cry, whatever you do. Or if you do, don’t let them see.”

  Gwyn nodded, and then she let go of her mother’s hands and walked to the door.

  “Thank you, Mother,” she said formally like a young woman might.

  And she opened the door and walked out into the hall on her own.

  * * *

  Left. Go to the left.

  Which way was that again?

  She held up her hand, remembering that it was the same one she’d shown her mother. And her mother had confirmed it. Left.

  Instead of hanging onto the walls as she walked, Gwyn lifted her skirt just a touch and let the boots do the work. Instead of trying to balance on the heels, she simply walked on her toes. It was painful, yes, but steadier.

  At the end of the hallway, go right.

  Right was the other hand.

  She was suddenly aware of delicious smells, and she followed her nose as much as her eyes into the dining room. As she entered, she found all three brothers and her father seated at the table.