by John Marco
Minikin’s long face told Gilwyn the worst. The message she had hurried to Jador had asked him to come at once, for White-Eye was in trouble. It had said no more than that, and begging his Akari Ruana for more news had yielded Gilwyn nothing. Now, exhausted and terrified, he drew Emerald to a stop at the threshold of Grimhold and slid down off her back. Sensing his worry, the kreel followed him to the gate. Minikin stepped out to greet them. Behind her, hidden in the blackness of the keep, other Inhumans kept a cautious vigil. They peered out to see him, their faces deep with trouble.
‘Tell me,’ said Gilwyn. They were the only words he could make with his gravelly throat.
Minikin reached for his hand. He had never seen her so grey, not even after the recent battle. ‘It’s good that you’ve come,’ she said. ‘We have waited.’
‘I came as quickly as I could,’ said Gilwyn, and it was true — no sooner had he read her message than he was on Emerald’s back. ‘Minikin, tell me what’s happened. What’s wrong with White-Eye?’
‘She is all right now, Gilwyn. She’s resting.’ Minikin struggled with the words. ‘Gilwyn, she was. . outside.’
‘Outside?’ Gilwyn’s eyes widened. ‘In the sun?’
Minikin nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘How did that happen? She’s not supposed to go out of doors!’
‘I know that,’ said Minikin evenly. ‘Gilwyn, listen to me. White-Eye is going to be fine, but something happened to her, something I can’t explain yet. I want you to be calm. Will you do that for me?’
‘I. . Minikin, I can’t be calm! Where is she? I want to see her.’
‘She’s resting, Gilwyn. She’s had a terrible ordeal.’
It was all too much for Gilwyn, who threw up his hands. ‘Make sense, please! What happened? Why was she outside?’
‘We were in the village together,’ said Minikin, carefully blocking his way. ‘She wandered off into the night. Something led her out of the house, Gilwyn. Something called to her. I didn’t know that she was gone until. .’
Gilwyn waited for her to finish. ‘Until what?’
Minikin grew ashen. ‘I heard her cry in my mind. But it wasn’t until morning, Gilwyn. It wasn’t until the sun came up.’
The confession shattered her little face. Gilwyn knew he’d yet to hear the worst of it. He braced himself.
‘Minikin, what happened to her?’ His voice began to crack. ‘I don’t understand. .’
The torchlight made them both glow orange. Darkness shadowed Minikin, obscuring her haunted eyes. She could barely bring herself to speak, and clutched Gilwyn’s hand tightly.
‘She’s blind,’ said Minikin softly.
The statement seemed blank.
‘Blind? I know she’s-’
‘Faralok is gone, Gilwyn. White-Eye has no Akari now, and no sight.’
Gilwyn swallowed hard. Astonished, he stared at Minikin. ‘How?’
‘The sunlight. The pain of it broke the bond between them, drove Faralok away. That is how it is sometimes with the Akari. She was crazed with fear. And the sunlight — it was too much for her. When I found her she was miles away, unconscious in the sand.’
‘Fate, no,’ gasped Gilwyn. At last the weight of the news fell on him. ‘She was out in the desert alone?’
‘Much of the night, yes,’ said Minikin. ‘She was in a trance, a daze. This thing that came over her. .’ Her eyes sparked with anger. ‘She was driven to this, Gilwyn.’
‘I want to see her,’ Gilwyn demanded. ‘Take me to her.’
‘First hear me — White-Eye does not yet know what happened to her. She knows she is blind, but the fugue that took her still confuses her, and I am only now piecing it together.’
Gilwyn didn’t have to piece it together. Somehow, he already knew what dark force was at play. ‘It’s Kahldris,’ he said. ‘I asked Ruana what had happened but she wouldn’t tell me. But I sensed it in her, Minikin. The Akari know it’s Kahldris, don’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Minikin admitted. ‘They do.’
‘Then why?’ Gilwyn cried, maddened by the answer. ‘Why would he hurt White-Eye?’
‘Because you love her,’ said Minikin. ‘Because he wants to hurt you. That is the only thing that makes sense. Perhaps you are a threat to his control over Thorin. I do not know for certain why, but he has struck at White-Eye to strike at you.’
Gilwyn drew back. ‘No. .’
‘It is Kahldris, Gilwyn.’ Minikin’s tone was insistent. ‘The Akari have told me they have sensed his presence. He was here when White-Eye had her fugue. It was he that led her out of safety, I am sure of it.’
‘Please, don’t say this to me,’ moaned Gilwyn. The thought was unbearable.
‘There is more. Kahldris led White-Eye out by tricking her. In her head she heard you screaming. She thought you were in trouble. She went to save you, Gilwyn.’
Unable to stand it, Gilwyn finally collapsed under the terrible news. He fell backward onto Emerald, leaning on the kreel for support. Was he to blame for White-Eye’s terror?
‘If I had been here,’ he muttered. ‘She was always asking me to come to Grimhold. If I had listened. .’
‘Stop,’ ordered Minikin. ‘This was Kahldris’ doing, Gilwyn, not yours. The demon used you, and your love for White-Eye. Do you see the danger? Do you see what Baron Glass is up against?’
Grief-stricken, Gilwyn slowly nodded. He had always known the trouble Thorin was in, but had tried hard to put it out of his mind, hoping vaguely that Lukien would help him. Now it was obvious that Lukien had failed.
‘Can I see her?’ he asked weakly.
An empty hallway greeted Gilwyn as he and Minikin made their way to White-Eye’s chamber. Usually, this area of Grimhold bustled with traffic, but tonight the Inhumans tiptoed past the young kahana’s door. Gilwyn paused outside White-Eye’s chamber, afraid of what he might find inside. According to Minikin, she was barely responsive, still shocked by what had happened to her. She had been through enormous pain, the mistress reminded him — it would take time for her to recover. Gilwyn steadied himself as Minikin reached for the door. When it opened, he was surprised to see how dark it was.
The little, windowless chamber flickered in the light of a single taper. Shadows climbed the walls. A woman sat beside the narrow bed, nodding off to sleep leaning against a chest used for furniture. She turned when she noticed the door opening, her eyes brightening when she recognised Gilwyn. Her name was Alena, and she was not an Inhuman in the fullest sense. She was the mother of Insight, a child who could neither speak nor move without the help of her Akari. Minikin had already told Gilwyn that Alena was with White-Eye, and Gilwyn was grateful for it. Her own daughter being such a challenge, Alena knew well how to nurse the needy.
Gilwyn nodded to Alena then looked past her to the bed. There lay White-Eye, eyes closed, expression blank. Her hair fell limply across her dark face. Propped up on pillows, she was either asleep or merely quiet; Gilwyn could not tell which. Alena rose and went silently to the door.
‘She is resting easy,’ whispered the woman. ‘I’ll leave you to her.’ She smiled gently at Gilwyn and touched his shoulder. ‘You sit with her now. She asks for you.’ To Minikin she said, ‘I’ll be with my daughter. I can sit with her again later, if you wish.’
‘No,’ said Gilwyn. ‘I’ll sit with her.’ He kept his voice low so that White-Eye could not hear. He wanted to ask why the room was so dark, but it didn’t really matter — everything was dark to White-Eye now.
When Alena left the room, Minikin padded over to the bedside. She inspected White-Eye’s face a moment, then gently took her hand.
‘White-Eye, it’s me,’ she said. ‘Are you awake?’
White-Eye’s eyes fluttered open. She licked her lips and nodded. ‘Minikin. . yes, I was not sleeping.’
‘You were,’ replied the mistress with a grin, ‘but I thought this was worth waking you over. Gilwyn is here, White-Eye.’
The girl shook off her fog and sat up. ‘Gilw
yn?’
‘I’m here,’ said Gilwyn, rushing to her side. He knelt down beside her bed. ‘White-Eye, I’m right here.’
Her hand reached out. Finding his face, she sighed. ‘Gilwyn. .’
‘You’re all right,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Minikin told me you’re all right now.’
White-Eye’s brow contorted. ‘I’m blind, Gilwyn. Faralok is gone. I cannot see!’
‘Hush, don’t be afraid,’ said Gilwyn. ‘You’re one of us — an Inhuman. You’ll see again, don’t worry.’
As he spoke Minikin seized his arm. She shook her head at him in warning. Puzzled, Gilwyn tried to say something else to reassure his beloved.
‘You’re safe now,’ he told her, the only words that came to mind. ‘Nothing else will happen to you.’
‘And you are safe,’ said White-Eye with relief. ‘Gilwyn, I was afraid for you. I heard you screaming. It was so real, I did not know it was a dream. .’
‘But it was a dream,’ said Gilwyn. He touched her hair and brushed it out of her sightless eyes. ‘All just a dream. Nothing happened; I’m safe.’
Did she know that it was Kahldris’ doing? Gilwyn wondered how much Minikin had told her. And why did Minikin think she would not see again? He wished suddenly that he had given the mistress more time to explain, and that he hadn’t been in such a hurry to see White-Eye.
‘Gilwyn, sit with her a while,’ Minikin suggested. ‘The two of you should be alone. Are you hungry? I can have food brought here.’
‘White-Eye? Are you hungry?’ asked Gilwyn.
The girl grimaced. ‘No, no food.’
‘I’m not hungry, either,’ said Gilwyn.
‘Neither of you has eaten all day,’ chided Minikin. ‘You must have food. I’ll send some to you later.’
She left them, closing the door behind her, shutting out all the light but the candle in its sad dish. Gilwyn sat down on the chest next to the bed. Seeing White-Eye so enfeebled made his guilt more unbearable. She was still beautiful, though, even in a sick bed. She had always been able to melt his heart.
‘White-Eye,’ he asked, ‘why is it so dark in here?’
‘The light hurts me,’ she replied. ‘That is how it is for me without Faralok — even this much light pains me.’
‘So you can see the light?’
‘That is all I can see, Gilwyn. Just brightness. Not you, not anything beautiful. Just pain.’
Gilwyn nodded, not knowing what to say. Even with her Akari, light had been painful to her. With Faralok’s help she had been able to see in the dark and control the worst of the pain. Now that was over.
‘White-Eye, what happened to Faralok? I don’t understand. Minikin told me you lost him, but. .’ He shrugged. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I do not know,’ White-Eye admitted. ‘I was in a state, Gilwyn. Like a waking dream. And when I awakened I was in the desert, and the sun was coming up and-’
‘No, stop,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It’s all right. I don’t want you to keep thinking about it. But Faralok — he’s already dead. I mean, he’s an Akari. He can’t just be gone. Can he?’
White-Eye blinked helplessly. ‘I do not know,’ she said. ‘I am alone now. I can see nothing. I can’t hear Faralok’s voice, or see him in my mind. I’m all alone.’
She had been a strong girl, always. Gilwyn had seen her break down only once, when her father died. Now, though, she looked on the verge of tears.
‘You are not alone,’ he hurried to say. ‘I’m here, White-Eye, and so is Minikin and all the Inhumans. You can never be alone, not while you are one of us.’
‘But I am one of you no longer! I have no Akari, Gilwyn.’
‘You have me,’ Gilwyn stressed. ‘You don’t need an Akari. I’ll protect you.’
At last the girl began to sob. ‘You cannot protect me. You cannot be my eyes.’ She put a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. ‘You do not know how empty I am, Gilwyn. It is all blackness. I will never see you again.’
‘No, you can have another Akari,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Like Meriel. She changed her Akari. So can you.’
‘It cannot be,’ said White-Eye. ‘Minikin has said so.’
‘What? Why?’
White-Eye clenched her fists. ‘Because of the violence done to me. Because of the way I lost Faralok. My mind — my brain — the Akari link has been broken. Oh, you cannot understand this! No one can. I am doomed, Gilwyn. Doomed to darkness!’
A desperate chill blew Gilwyn’s soul. White-Eye was so innocent, so purely kind, and yet the monster known as Kahldris had done this horror to her.
To get to me? he wondered. It seemed impossible, yet Minikin was so sure. .
‘I’ll help you,’ he told her then. ‘I’ll make this right, White-Eye, I promise.’
White-Eye reined in her tears. With her hand she found him, smiling bravely. ‘You are my sweet one,’ she told him, ‘but you cannot be my eyes, Gilwyn. That is over for me.’
‘No,’ said Gilwyn bitterly. ‘I will make it right, White-Eye. I don’t know how, but I will.’
‘No one can make it so, Gilwyn. No one can make me see the stars again.’
‘I can!’ said Gilwyn, springing from his seat. ‘White-Eye, you’re not alone! You have to let me prove that.’ He looked around the dim room, then realised her garments were in the chest. Flinging open the lid, he found a dressing robe and pulled it out. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘let me help you up.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, I want to show you something.’
‘Gilwyn, no. .’
‘Yes, you have to get out of bed,’ Gilwyn insisted. ‘I won’t let you stay in this room forever. I have your robe. I’ll help you put it on.’
‘This is silly, Gilwyn. I cannot see. .’
Determined to ignore her, Gilwyn took her hands and gently pulled her out of bed. She tottered unsteadily on her feet.
‘Good. Now just stay still,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Hold out your arms.’
Amazingly, she did so. Gilwyn carefully slipped on her robe. It wasn’t very cool out, thankfully, but he knew she would also need shoes. These he found beneath her bed.
‘Now lift up your feet,’ he told her, ready with her footwear.
‘Where are we going?’ White-Eye insisted.
‘Just trust me,’ was all he would say. ‘Come on, feet up.’
Though exasperated, White-Eye complied, letting Gilwyn slip on her shoes. When he was done she stood there, looking around without seeing, her expression stricken.
‘Gilwyn, I am afraid.’
Gilwyn put his arm around her. ‘Don’t be,’ he assured her. ‘Just hold on and let me take you.’
‘Take me where?’
‘Hold on, now,’ he cautioned, then led her toward the door. ‘I’m going to show you something.’
White-Eye shuffled toward the door unsteadily. Careful not to startle her, Gilwyn held her very close. The idea he had gotten might have been crazy, but it had seized him and made him determined. Outside, they found the hallway empty. Relieved, Gilwyn kept her moving forward.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
White-Eye shrugged at the question. ‘Confused. It’s hard to walk.’
‘You’re doing fine. Just stay with me. .’
Eventually, White-Eye’s steps became more sure. As they moved through the torchlit hall she began to move as if she had done this a thousand times — which of course she had. A little grin crept onto Gilwyn’s face. She didn’t know it yet, but they were coming to the staircase.
‘Good,’ he said with encouragement. ‘Now stop here a moment. We’re going up.’
‘Up?’
‘Up the stairs.’
‘Gilwyn, no. .’
‘You can do it — it’s just like always. Just hold on to me.’
‘I’ll fall!’
‘You won’t; I won’t let you.’ Gilwyn tucked his arm under hers. ‘Ready?’
White-Eye took the first cautious tread. ‘Why are we going up?’
/> ‘To see the stars,’ said Gilwyn.
‘The stars?’ She hesitated, then stepped higher. ‘I can’t see them any more.’
‘But I can. You love the stars — I’m going to show them to you.’
He felt her tremble in his grasp. Her expression tightened. ‘You will show me them?’
‘That’s right. I’ll tell you everything I see.’
White-Eye’s eyes — just milk-white orbs — filled with emotion. Her smooth hands gripped him tighter.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You can do that.’
One slow step at a time, they made their way together toward the rooftop.
46
Worlds Apart
Gilwyn spent the entire night by White-Eye’s bedside to protect her from dreaming. White-Eye slept deeply, at last succumbing to the exhaustion of her ordeal. They had spent an hour on the rooftop before she had finally heard her fill of his voice, telling her about the constellations and the way the sand dunes shifted like giant ghosts in the moonlight. The time alone together had been marvellous, even helpful. Gilwyn was sure it had lifted White-Eye’s spirits. By the time they had returned to her chamber Minikin had made good on her promise to bring them food, but White-Eye had gone to sleep without touching it, leaving Gilwyn to eat alone while he watched her drift off. He was her guardian, he decided, not just her regent.
Gilwyn himself did not sleep. Instead he spent the night considering great and difficult questions that had no answers. The injustice of what had happened plagued him. He wondered how someone so innocent could fall prey to such evil, when there was so much magic about to protect her. He wondered why he had ignored all her requests to come to Grimhold, choosing instead to toil over Jador’s rebuilding, as though his efforts made any difference at all. Mostly, though, he wondered about Kahldris, and what could be done about his tremendous power, a power that could reach across a continent, seemingly with ease, and destroy someone he loved. White-Eye would not soon be whole, he knew. If she could not have another Akari — another injustice Gilwyn could not comprehend — then she was truly doomed to darkness. No amount of storytelling or attention could change that.