The Wayfarer King (38 page)

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.

Four-twenty on the afternoon o’the tenth o’Nevebria, in the year fourteen thirty-one.

Gavin followed the thread of his ring and found Daia’s haze, connected with her, and opened another vortex.

“I’m not meant to know the future,” Arek said, “but can you tell me who or what you mean to summon?”

Gavin took a breath as though he was about to speak and stepped through.

The hearth that had been so warm and comforting a second ago was dark and cold, the room eerily silent. The chill in the air reminded him that Arek had sent everyone away. No fires burned in the hearths. The palace, usually bustling with people doing their jobs, was quiet and empty like a tomb. Either he’d timed it well or he’d soon meet Ritol face to face.

Shivering in his summer clothes, Gavin noted that his armor hadn’t come with him. He hadn’t been wearing it when he went to visit King Arek. He went to the library door and peered out, listening. Distantly, he heard footsteps coming from the direction of the cellar. If he’d come to the right time, that would be Arek returning from the vault with the gems he would put into the Rune Tablet. As quietly as he could, Gavin snuck up the main staircase, listening for a sign he’d been discovered. The cellar door creaked shut, and then the bolt rattled across it. Gavin paused momentarily until he remembered the king’s private library was to the left. The footsteps began to ascend the back staircase.

With his heart pounding and his breath icy in the cool air, Gavin slipped into the room and looked around. His eyes settled on the burgundy and gold curtains, the only hiding place big enough to conceal him. He hid within their velvety folds, which were still settling into place when he heard someone enter. Gavin peered out. It was Arek.

Relieved and excited, Gavin waited for the right time to make his move. He watched while Arek began to create the tablet that would haunt Gavin’s dreams for the next two centuries.

Ronor burst into the study. He stopped short when he saw the king, hunched over the wide oak table. Sweat soaked the rounded collar of Arek’s tan tunic. His hands shook as he chiseled a rune into the surface of the stone tablet.

When Ronor went to the window, Gavin held his breath and stood perfectly still. He didn’t remember noticing anything unusual about the curtains, but he’d been preoccupied with the events that were unfolding, events that were now vivid in Gavin’s memory: seeing Ritol dashing through the streets of Tern toward the palace, Arek urging him to take the tablet with the gems in it. At the time, he hadn’t known what it was for. Now, he understood exactly what Arek had done, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether his visit two days earlier had been the reason for Arek’s change of mind.

“It is my magic, not my life, that you must protect now,” Arek was saying.

“My lord, no,” Ronor said. Gavin mouthed the words with him, for he’d said them a hundred times in nightmares over the last dozen years.

“I have been proud to call you a friend, Ronor.”

A lump rose in Gavin’s throat. “As have I, my liege,” he whispered, echoing Ronor’s words.

“You mustn’t let Thendylath fall into chaos. You have been at my side for thirteen years. Promise me you’ll pick up where I left off, if it comes to that.”

“Your majesty, we will not fail. We will prevail—”

Arek gripped Ronor’s arm. “Swear it. Swear it on your immortal soul!”

“I swear.” When Ronor spoke those fateful words, Gavin shuddered. It was here that his nightmare truly began.

“There’s no time, Ronor,“ Arek said. ”You must keep the tablet safe.”

“My liege, I have sworn to protect you.”

“You have sworn to obey. Take the tablet and go. Now!”

Yes, he’d sworn on his immortal soul that he wouldn’t leave Thendylath without a king. But he’d also sworn to protect King Arek.
A promise to a king shall transcend death.
The time was close now, and his timing was crucial. He had precious few seconds to do what he’d come to do.

“You’ll be trapped,” Ronor argued. “Trapped inside the palace with it.”

“GO!” Arek shouted.

In one quick movement, Ronor ducked his head, wrapped an arm around Arek’s thighs and hoisted the king over his shoulder.

“Ronor, no,” Arek said. “It’ll kill us both. You must get the tablet to safety.”

Ronor fumbled to lift the stone tablet with his other hand and clutched it to his chest. Gavin heard him run from the room, his heavy footsteps loud on the marble floor.

“King Arek,” a tritonal voice boomed. “At last we meet.”

Gavin crossed the study as quietly as he could and made his way to the door. He heard Ronor’s footsteps on the stairs then a painful “Ooof” and the thumping of bodies tumbling down them. He remembered the pain, but most of all, he remembered the look in Arek’s eyes as they silently bid each other a final good-bye.

Gavin peered around the corner and saw the beyonder Ritol, huge and glistening black, from behind. It stood at the top of the staircase, looking at Arek and Ronor. Then it started down the steps. He crept along the wall, inching closer, trying not to even breathe. His heart pounded so loudly, he was afraid Ritol would hear it. He followed the thread from his ring and connected with Daia. Then came the moment he’d waited for. Ritol raced down the remaining steps and slashed at Ronor’s face. Ronor hit the wall and stumbled, caught himself and sprinted through the dining hall. Ritol went after him, desperate to get the tablet.

Now!
Gavin thought. He ran down to where Arek lay twisted and broken. The king’s azure eyes flew open wide.

Gavin opened a portal to the midrealm then picked Arek up under his armpits and dragged him through.

Chapter 48

The swordswoman Nasharla put her hands on her hips. “Come and get me.”

Red looked at Brodas, unsure what to do. He wasn’t stupid enough to go down there with three Viragon Sisters, even if they were unarmed.

“Cirang, blow about half the bag of serragan powder in there first,” Brodas suggested. “Then grab the little blond girl and we’ll see how cocksure she is then.”

Feanna gasped. “No, please.” She clutched the wailing child tightly to her.

“No,” Nasharla said. “I’ll go.”

Cirang lowered the ladder. “Smart.”

“Daia?” Nasharla asked as she took hold of the ladder. “Anything new from King Gavin?”

“He’s trying.” Daia stood and embraced her fellow Sister. “It’s been an honor knowing you.”

Nasharla returned it. “The same. I wish you luck. Please tell him I’m sorry.”

Daia put her hand on Nasharla’s shoulder. “You aren’t to blame. He knows that.” Dona embraced Nasharla as well.

“Hurry up,” Brodas said. He tapped his foot impatiently.

Nasharla looked at Liera. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your family.”

Liera burst into tears.

Nasharla climbed the ladder. When she reached the top, she lunged for Red’s dagger. He elbowed her in the face and knocked her away. She stumbled over a low table and fell to the floor, hitting a stool on her way down. “A worthy effort.”

“Move her up close to Ritol,” Brodas said.

He grabbed her by the arm and half-dragged her on her knees to Ritol. “Now?” Red asked. At Brodas’s nod, Red shoved his blade into Nasharla’s back. Its tip tented the fabric in the front of her tunic, staining it red. She fell to the floor without even a whimper.

Ritol sucked in its breath. Its triangular head grew deeper in color — blacker, if that was possible, with a bit of a shine. The beyonder uncurled its body to sit upright and became more alert. “Yes. More.”

Brodas motioned to Red. “Another should suffice. Get the other swordswoman first — Dona, was it?”

Dona bid the others a courageous good-bye, though her chin quivered, then climbed up. Cirang put the cat figurine down for a moment to pull up the ladder and set it along one wall. Red held his blade ready in case Dona tried to fight or flee. The swordswoman was plainly terrified. Her entire body trembled, and sweat covered her face. Red gripped her by the back of the neck with his free hand.

“Your country appreciates your sacrifice today,“ Brodas told her. ”You can die knowing that the rightful king will soon be on the throne.”

Red pushed Dona forward. Her heavy feet shuffled across the wood floor. She leaned her body away, obviously not wanting to get any closer to the beyonder prince. Without waiting for Brodas’s command, Red shoved his sword into her back. She let out a groan and slumped to the floor.

Again, Ritol took a breath. It rose taller now, unfolding itself fully. Indeed, it climbed to an impressive height on two legs, almost hitting its huge head against the ceiling. Its black eyes glittered alertly. It stretched its long arms as if it had just awakened. “More.”

Brodas grinned, pleased that his champion was becoming the powerful being he’d hoped for. He could almost feel the weight of the crown upon his head now. “Red, bring Miss Feanna.”

“You came... back,” Arek whispered.

A half-dozen Elyles, sitting around a cookfire gutting and roasting fish, gasped at their sudden appearance, clicking and whistling their awe and wonderment. “It’s the Wayfarer King and the champion,” one of them said.

Gavin knelt beside the king and tried to ignore his audience. “I told you I would. Lie still now while I heal you.” He laid his hands on Arek’s legs and concentrated on the fluttering whiteness of the healing magic.

“Take the rune... from my pocket.” Arek coughed. Blood dotted his lips. “Its name... is Whemorard.”

“Whemorard,” Gavin repeated, disrupting his concentration. “Got it.” He focused once more on healing Arek’s many injuries, but the king’s eyes became glassy, his stare distant. “Arek, look at me. I can save you.”

“You... already have, Ronor.” Arek’s eyes closed. His haze drifted away.

“Wait,” Gavin said. “I can heal you.” He groped desperately for his healing magic, refusing to give up without trying. “Arek, no. I got to save you.” He pounded his fist repeatedly on Arek’s chest. “Beat. Come on. Beat, damn you!” He couldn’t lose Arek. Not again. “Help him, please,” he begged the Elyle. They stood but made no effort to help. He tried breathing into Arek’s mouth and hitting his chest again. “Come on! Please. Just... beat.” His fists grew heavy, and he sat wearily in defeat beside his king’s still form. Arek was gone. He bowed his head.
I’m sorry, my liege.

“He is dead,” an Elyle said. “Arek the Wayfarer is dead.”

“We’ll have a new wayfarer now,” someone else replied.

Searching the dead king’s pockets was the most disreputable thing Gavin had ever done, but he had no choice. He needed to save the kingdom. He found it, a rune that looked alien — one he’d never seen before — and knew this must be it. But where to put it?

As in his realm, he was on an island in the middle of Lake Athra, except that in this realm, there was no palace, only grass and rocks and raptors circling above. Somehow he needed to get to the other side of the valley, where he could get to the summoning rune in his own time. To walk, or even run, would take at least two hours.

“Hey, do you have a mount I can borrow?” he asked the onlookers.

They clicked and whistled their lack of understanding.

“A horse or other animal I can ride to the other end o’this valley?”