Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6)

by Andrew Hunter

  Warren made a low growl in the base of his throat, but let it pass.

  “It don’t matter how it looks to anybody else, boy,” Bargas said, clapping his son on the shoulder, “It only matters how it looks to her.”

  “Yeah,” Warren sighed. He hopped down from the overturned cabinet and stood before his father with a crooked smile on this face.

  Bargas nodded and took a deep breath. “I wish yer ma could see you now,” he sighed.

  Warren’s eyes and smile tensed, and then he leaned forward to hug his dad.

  Bargas cleared his throat as he pulled away at last. “Well,” he said quietly, “I got some things to check on outside. You good here ‘till we call for you?”

  Warren nodded.

  “I’ma check on Gammi Boots and see if she needs any help,” Diggs said, wiping his paws on his furry thighs as the got to his feet.

  “You stay close! It’s almost time!” Bargas snapped as he headed out the door, “I gotta go lookin’ for you when the time comes, I’m gonna send you back to yer momma short a tail!”

  “I’ll be there!” Diggs growled, giving the parting ghoul a dirty look. His expression immediately brightened to a mask of feigned innocence when Bargas glanced back at him.

  Garrett and Diggs watched Bargas leave before turning their attention to Warren once again.

  Warren glared silently at the brindle ghoul, and Garrett thought he could hear the sound of fangs grinding together behind Warren’s black lips.

  Diggs’s amused expression softened, and then he reached out to clap Warren on his shaggy upper arm. “Congratulations, Warren,” he said, sounding sincere, “She’s amazing.”

  Warren’s eyes softened, and he nodded his thanks to his friend.

  “I have no idea what she sees in you,” Diggs said shaking his head, “but, whatever it is, you’re lucky you got it.”

  Warren gave Diggs a sour smirk. “Go eat some pies,” he growled, jerking his head toward the door.

  Diggs laughed and loped away through the door, leaving Garrett and Warren alone in the parlor.

  “You wanna get somethin’ to eat too?” Warren asked.

  “No,” Garrett said, “I’ll hang out with you... unless you’d rather be alone or somethin’.”

  “No!” Warren exclaimed before adding, more quietly, “No.”

  “You all right?” Garrett asked as he moved to take the Mayor’s seat. He paused to brush a few chunks of pie from the velvet and bone before sitting down.

  “Yeah,” Warren sighed as he leaned back against the opposite wall, “I really am.”

  Garrett smiled.

  “You know, Gar,” Warren mused, “I never saw it like this... I mean I always figured... I don’t even know what I thought it would be like... Stupid kid ideas about how things would turn out.”

  “They turned out all right though,” Garrett said.

  “Yeah, they did,” Warren chuckled as his eyes grew distant, “I love her, Gar. I love her more than anything.”

  “That’s good,” Garrett said.

  “Yeah,” Warren said, falling silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “I just wanna make somethin’ good for her, you know, so maybe she can just forget about the bad stuff... Do you think it can work like that?”

  “I dunno,” Garrett admitted.

  Warren scratched at his chin with a long claw, looking thoughtful. “I’m gonna make it work like that, Gar,” he said, “I’m gonna make so much good stuff in her life that she’s not gonna have any time left to remember the bad stuff.”

  Garrett smiled again.

  Warren shook his head and chuckled, looking at Garrett again now. “What about you?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Garrett said, breaking from some private thought.

  “What’re your plans now?” Warren asked.

  Garrett shrugged. “I guess we see what Max is up to, maybe head home.”

  “What about your idea?” Warren asked, “What about Taelish?”

  Garrett’s smile faded, and his eyes fell. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anymore,” he answered quietly.

  “Why not?” Warren asked, leaning forward slightly.

  Garrett looked toward the window, hearing the muffled sound of the revelers without. “Because it’s not just these people that need my help,” he said.

  Warren’s expression darkened. “Listen, Gar,” he sighed, “I know Uncle Raik helped you out and everything, but you don’t owe the White Pack anything! You’re not part of their war.”

  “Yeah, I am,” Garrett replied, “Maybe I’m not even on their side, but I am part of it... maybe the most important part when it comes down to it, and I can’t just pretend that this isn’t gonna catch up to me eventually.”

  A cold look passed over Warren’s face as he considered Garrett’s words. “So you really are gonna take on the vampires?” he whispered.

  “Somebody has to,” Garrett said.

  Warren raised his eyebrows and blew air through his lips. “Well,” he said at last, “can we at least wait ‘till after the honeymoon before we declare war on everybody?”

  “Yeah,” Garrett laughed, “we can wait.”

  “And what about the redjacks?” Warren asked.

  “I don’t know,” Garrett sighed, “I’m kinda hopin’ that Max and Uncle Tinjin already wiped ‘em all out, and we can just go home now.”

  “That would be pretty funny, wouldn’t it?” Warren chuckled.

  “Yeah,” Garrett laughed as well.

  The two friends fell into a silent reverie as they listened to the distant sounds of music through the walls and windows of the Astorran home.

  “Warren?” Garrett spoke up as the song came to an end.

  “Yeah, Gar?” Warren said.

  “You remember when you found me back in Brenhaven?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah, I remember,” Warren said with a smile.

  “I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t shown up when you did,” Garrett said.

  “Probably the same thing that woulda happened to me, if I hadn’t met you,” Warren laughed, “We’da been dragon chow!”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Garrett said.

  “Doesn’t matter now, though,” Warren said, “‘cause we did meet, and that’s what’s important.”

  “Yeah, it is important,” Garrett agreed, “and I guess I just wanted to say that.”

  “Yeah,” Warren said, nodding his head, “I know what you mean.”

  The sound of the house’s front door swinging open drew their attention toward the parlor’s entrance.

  Bargas poked his shaggy head into the room and rumbled, “It’s time.”

  “Oh fesche,” Warren hissed, springing to attention with a terrified look in his eyes.

  Bargas grinned at his son. “Come on, boy,” he said, “you don’t wanna keep this lady waitin’.”

  Garrett stood up, pausing to straighten his knee-length doublet of dark blue wool. The hood that accompanied it fit a bit too snugly for Garrett’s taste, and the back of it came to a silly point that hung down between his shoulder blades like a ponytail, but Ymowyn had assured him that it was quite fashionable in Astorra. At least the doublet concealed all but the shins of the pale blue hose she had given him to wear, while the curled toe shoes should serve to distract anyone from too close of an appraisal of the rest of the outfit.

  Warren took one last look around the room, as though searching for any misplaced courage, and then he followed his father out with Garrett close behind.

  The cool breeze of evening greeted them, carrying with it the scent of nature and cook fires. Garrett and the ghouls stepped out of the house to the welcoming smiles of centaurs, fauns, and dryads. The Astorran fae that lined the street outside the old mayor’s home tossed wildflower petals in Warren’s path as he took the lead. Drums beat out a solemn pace, and bells jingled, matching the shaggy ghoul’s steps as he walked toward the town square, his eyes straight ahead.

  Ba
rgas smiled as he fell back a few steps to walk beside Garrett as they followed Warren to the square.

  “Strange thing,” Bargas murmured, just loud enough for Garrett to hear, “feelin’ like you wanna cry an’ laugh at the same time.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett agreed.

  “Good feelin’ though,” Bargas sighed, “good feelin’.”

  “Yeah.”

  Warren paused when they reached the outer perimeter of the square. A cloud of wisps hung over the broad courtyard, filling it with a rich golden light, like countless miniature moons, hung in the twilight sky. Their glow sparkled in the bubbling pool of the fountain at the center of the square, its waters now strewn with flowers that swirled languidly in the breeze.

  To the left side of the square stood a host of spirits, anchored by the towering shadow of Crookjaw’s ghost. Around him, the translucent forms of goblins, elves, and trolls smiled at Warren’s arrival, though some of their spectral grins seemed a bit unsettling. To the right stood a crowd of living fae, with the giant Larz acting as visual counterweight to the ghostly ettin across the square.

  The rest of the wedding party waited on the far side of the fountain. Garrett’s breath caught when he saw Haven.

  She stood, smiling at him from across the fountain, the white satin of her Astorran dress shimmering in the wisplight. She wore a crown of woven wildflowers, and beneath, the tips of her chestnut brown hair brushed against shoulders laid nearly bare by the broad throat of her cream-colored gown. Her embroidered sleeves came to points, just above the knuckles of her fingers, fingers that now fidgeted with the pleats of her ankle-length skirt. Her smile turned a bit wry as she blushed and looked away, unable to bear Garrett’s gape-jawed stare any longer.

  Scupp, leaned over and whispered something in Haven’s ear that made her giggle and blush even redder.

  Scupp gave Garrett a sharp-toothed grin as she readjusted her own flowery crown and straightened the long white scarf that she wore around her neck, tied into a bow just beneath her left ear.

  At the center someone had erected a trellised arch, woven with flowers. Within it stood Lady Browelle, dressed in a verdant gown of velvety leaves, garlanded with flowering vines. She had traded her usual stern expression for one of quiet benevolence as she presided over the gathered assembly. To the right of the dryad, Diggs stood, brushing a few crumbs from his brindle fur as he waited for Warren and Garrett to join him.

  Bargas patted Warren on the back as he moved to take his place with the other Gloarans. Mujah gave Warren an encouraging wave from where he stood with Cenick, beside the great direwolf Ghausse who sat on his haunches with his tongue lolling wetly from his grinning jaws. Garrett grinned as well to see Caleb and Timan on the other side of the wolf, dressed in fresh blue robes and headdresses. He was surprised to notice the girl Mirion, standing to Timan’s left. She seemed to have recovered from the hardships of their journey in the north, but pain still haunted her eyes as she met Garrett’s gaze for a brief moment before looking away.

  “Come on, Gar,” Warren said, “Let’s do this.”

  Garrett followed his friend around the fountain to take their places between Diggs and the dryad woman who would officiate the ceremony. Though their last meeting had not been a pleasant one, Lady Browelle greeted Garrett with a seemingly sincere smile as she gently guided the rather nervous Warren into his proper place.

  “You got the ring?” Warren whispered to Garrett as they turned to face the fountain with their backs to the arched trellis.

  “Yeah,” Garrett said, putting his hand on the small velvet pouch at his belt, “but Starweaver said you weren’t supposed to touch it until you’re ready to put it on her finger.

  “What’ll happen if I do?” Warren asked.

  “I dunno,” Garrett whispered, “he just said not to.”

  “Seems a little weird to me,” Warren mumbled.

  “You don’t have to give it to her if you don’t want to,” Garrett said.

  “No... I just wish I knew where he got it from, that’s all,” Warren sighed.

  “He’s a ghost... or he was a ghost,” Garrett mused, “I guess he probably got it from a tomb or somethin’. It looks really old... nice, but old.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Warren whispered.

  “You’ve given her plenty of stuff that you dug outta tombs!” Garrett said.

  “Yeah, but I knew where that stuff came from,” Warren protested.

  “Like I said,” Garrett sighed, “you don’t have to give it to her... He just wanted to give you guys a nice wedding present to apologize for not being here himself. It’s up to you what you do...”

  “Shh!” Scupp hissed them to silence as the droning beat of drums died away.

  All eyes turned to the far side of the square and a flutter of wings preceded a flock of songbirds that suddenly swooped low and then lifted skyward. In their wake followed a pair of centaur girls, bearing tall banners of white gossamer that fluttered behind them. Through the billowing cloth, Garrett caught a glimpse of golden light and white satin.

  As the musicians played an achingly sweet melody on harp and pipes, Lady Ymowyn walked gracefully toward them with a glowing fairy hovering at her side. Shortgrass radiated golden warmth as he kept pace with the fox woman, and behind her, Sender, Mila, Pock, and at least a dozen Astorran fairies carried the long train of Ymowyn’s gown. The red fur of her pointed ears framed either side of her lace veil, and her slender hands held a bouquet of frost-white roses at her breast. Hundreds of pearls, sewn into the fabric of her dress, formed swirling patterns of iridescence upon the creamy satin, with traces of rainbow hues that hinted at the presence of fairy magic.

  Warren let out a little whimper, and Garrett looked to see a tear streaming down his friend’s shaggy cheek.

  Ymowyn rounded the fountain now, and Haven and Scupp stepped back to welcome her approach as the musicians fell silent again. Shortgrass and the other fairies moved away, leaving Ymowyn as she passed her bouquet to Haven with a slight nod of gratitude.

  Warren was trembling as the satin-gowned fox woman stepped up before him, and though he towered head and shoulders above her, he whined like a puppy when she looked up at him through her veil.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Warren nodded his head and answered nervously, “Me too.”

  Garrett thought he caught a hint of a smile through Ymowyn’s veil as she and Warren turned to face the dryad presiding over the ceremony.

  “We have gathered together tonight, to witness the union of two souls,” Lady Browelle spoke, “Two so tightly bound by love that they have become One.”

  Garrett glanced toward Haven to see her smiling at him. He smiled back before she could look away again.

  “They bind their lives together, not with oaths of breath and will, but with the living threads of their love, woven together... growing together until the vine and tree are inseparable... indistinguishable from one another... one life, shared and cherished.

  “Such a union is not joined in a single night. What we witness here is not the planting of a seed, but rather the blossoming of that which was planted, and the rich promise of the fruits it shall bear. We share in the witnessing of it, for our joy, and theirs’, and, though we have no doubt of the answer, we ask the question.

  “Will you take one another... take joy and shelter in one another... to share in all things, fair and foul, that may come?”

  Warren and Ymowyn answered together, “We will.”

  “And will you open your hearts to one another, holding back nothing for yourself, but sharing, without reservation, the other’s hopes, and dreams, and burdens, as if they were your own, for so long as you both draw breath?” Lady Browelle asked.

  “We will,” they answered.

  “Then we have born witness, gladly, to your love, and impart our many blessings upon your love, and upon you,” the dryad said with a smile, “Let nothing come between you again, from this moment until the end of
days.”

  Warren’s hands were steady now as he lifted Ymowyn’s veil to reveal the fox woman’s adoring green eyes and blissful smile. He leaned forward, pressing his muzzle to hers as the crowd erupted with cheers at their kiss.

  “Mwing,” Warren mumbled, reaching back toward Garrett with his left paw as he continued to kiss his bride.

  Garrett fumbled quickly with his belt, retrieving the little pouch that contained the ring. “Careful,” he cautioned as he upended the pouch over Warren’s open palm.

  A delicate band of woven gold spilled out into the gray ghoul’s paw, and Warren at last pulled away from Ymowyn’s lips.

  Ymowyn’s eyelids fluttered as she caught her breath, staring uncomprehendingly at the ring in Warren’s hands.

  “I got you something,” Warren said, rolling the little piece of jewelry between his thick fingers to get a better grip on it.

  “Where did you get that?” she gasped.

  “Dead guy,” the ghoul answered as he lifted her left hand in his own and then gently slipped the ring onto her finger.

  A warm breeze whispered in the leaves of the trees and caught at the hem of Ymowyn’s gown, as she looked down in wonder at the shining band of gold.

  “It’s beautiful!” she sighed with tears in her eyes.

  “You like it?” Warren asked with a hopeful look.

  Ymowyn sprang up on her toes and pulled the big ghoul down into a tight embrace.

  Garrett smiled.

  “Oh,” Ymowyn said, releasing him at last, “I almost forgot.” She tugged down her right sleeve, baring the red fur of her arm all the way to her elbow before reaching out to grasp Warren’s right elbow in her left hand. She lifted her bare right arm to Warren with a questioning look in her eyes.

  “Really?” Warren asked with a bemused grin.

  “You wore the ribbons for me,” she said, “It’s only fair that we have at least one of your traditions.”

  “You’re sure?” Warren said.

  Ymowyn nodded.

  Warren parted his jaws slightly, taking Ymowyn’s forearm gently between his black lips. He lifted his shaggy right arm to Ymowyn’s lips as well.

  Ymowyn gave a cringing squint as she stretched her jaws around Warren’s massive forearm, pressing her dainty fangs into his gray fur.