The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) Page 19

  “He’s been missing since yesterday.” Alwen looked sickened. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “The trail of the Cythraul that attacked him was too faded to follow,” Glain said, consciously measuring her breathing to keep her emotions at bay. “I would have to guess it happened sometime last night. There are no sentries stationed on the second floor. Except for Ilan, who was attending to Pedr, the entire annex would have been empty at night.”

  “I have ordered a search of the temple,” Emrys interrupted. “My men are gathering in the courtyard as we speak.”

  “If it was still in the Fane, someone would have caught wind of it by now. No,” Alwen sighed. “The Cythraul is not a random predator. It comes for the soul it has been sent to take, and then it leaves. It is no longer here.”

  “We should search anyway,” Emrys interrupted. “If it is in the temple or on the grounds, my men will find it.”

  “And how shall they defend themselves if they do?” Glain was beginning to find Emrys boorish. It was almost as if the weight of command had made him more uneasy rather than more capable. “The Cythraul may not be seeking another kill, but it will fight to defend itself. This I know all too well. Of course your men should make a cursory search, but not alone, and not before we have accounted for the rest of the Stewardry.”

  Glain turned to Alwen. “I have already ordered the membership assembled in the great hall. It won’t be long before they are ready and awaiting your review. Once we are satisfied they are safe, I suggest we then assign the acolytes and the prefects to accompany the Captain’s search parties while they secure the Fane, room by room.”

  Emrys bristled. “And what of the grounds?”

  “I don’t believe a search of the grounds will be any more helpful,” Alwen said, “but we will leave nothing overlooked. We will see first to the membership, Emrys, and then do as Glain suggests.”

  Emrys acknowledged Alwen’s orders with a slight bow, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the decision. As you wish.

  “Good,” Alwen said. “And if you haven’t already, I suggest you welcome Finn MacDonagh back into your ranks. You may find yourself in need of his experience.”

  “Of course, Sovereign,” Emrys said, almost as though he were speaking through clenched teeth. “If that is all, I will see to my duty.”

  Alwen offered him her most gracious smile and waited until he left the room before reaching out to Glain. “Give me your hand, child.”

  Glain helped Alwen to her feet and was happy to find she was steady. “Whatever it was Cerrigwen did for you seems to be working.”

  “Yes, for a time,” Alwen said. “Find my robe, and then go get your own. The more composed we appear, the less panicked everyone else will be.”

  “As you wish,” Glain agreed, but she loathed that black robe. “Are you sure you can manage on your own?”

  “Yes,” Alwen insisted. “I’ll be ready by the time you get back. On your way, dismiss the guard outside Nerys’s room so that he can rejoin the garrison, and bring Nerys with you. She is still one of us.”

  Glain’s reluctance had almost nothing to do with her distrust of Nerys. Of course, Alwen was right—Nerys should be brought to the assembly. She also should be told about Ynyr, and Glain knew that she should be the one to do so.

  “I am so very sorry to hear about Ynyr,” Alwen said. “This will be a difficult loss for so many, especially you. I know how much you relied on his friendship.”

  Glain nodded to avoid having to speak.

  “We will find out how this happened and who is responsible,” Alwen continued. “And I promise you, this time there will be no mercy.”

  Glain decided it was past time to voice the suspicion that had been niggling at her thoughts since she’d seen the cloaked figures in the orchard. “I have begun to believe the source of all of this has been in our midst all along.”

  “So have I,” Alwen said. “Go on now. And hurry.”

  Glain was annoyed to find Ariane waiting outside Alwen’s door. “What are you doing here?”

  “What is happening?” Ariane whispered, clearly concerned. “No one seems to know anything.”

  “You will all know what you need to know soon enough.” Glain gestured toward the stairs. “You should be waiting in the meeting hall with the others.”

  Ariane lingered, uncertain. “How can I help?”

  Glain relented, partly to be kind and partly to be rid of her. “Other than Ilan, who has permission to stay with the wounded soldier, everyone is to report to the general assembly. Everyone—do you understand?”

  Ariane nodded, eyes wide and worried. All of her recently acquired airs and attitudes seemed to have abandoned her.

  “Good. Check the second-floor spell rooms to be sure no one is left behind, and then join the others,” Glain instructed. “I will be down as soon as Alwen is ready.”

  Ariane seemed happy to have something useful to do, and Glain was relieved to have her busy somewhere else. The last thing she needed was Ariane’s incessant prying. It was all Glain could do to keep her mind on her duty. Rather than live with the dread any longer, she decided to speak to Nerys first.

  Nerys had the quarters opposite Cerrigwen’s rooms, halfway down the hall. The sentry standing watch was all too eager to go, having got wind of the trouble at hand. Glain knocked and held her breath until Nerys answered.

  “Come.”

  Glain’s eyes began to burn before she had fully opened the door. Already she regretted having taken on this task. Though she and Nerys had never been friends, they had known each other all their lives. Glain was about to heap unimaginable sorrow upon her, and this she would not have wished on anyone.

  Nerys was dressed in a simple velvet gown the color of the first autumn leaves and sitting primly on a three-legged stool next to the small hearth, with her hands folded in her lap. Her room was so tidy it was nearly sterile. Aside from a small table beneath the only window, upon which sat the customary implements of a ritual altar, there wasn’t a single personal belonging in sight.

  Glain hesitated just inside the door, uncertain how to begin. “A general assembly has been called. The entire membership is meeting in the great hall. Alwen sent me to bring you.”

  Nerys stood. “I don’t suppose I will be allowed to wear my robe.”

  “Please,” Glain said. “Stay seated a moment. There is something I need to say.”

  Nerys lowered herself back to the stool, her expression unreadable. In that awful, tenuous moment Glain saw Nerys in a different light. What before she had perceived as condescension Glain now considered might be nothing more than a naturally distant affect. Nerys was cool and aloof, but that did not necessarily mean she was also disdainful. Besides, Ynyr had loved her.

  Glain was suddenly struck with a wounding thought. She had never once wondered how Ynyr loved Nerys. They had always been close, like siblings. Had it been more than that? It shaved off another piece of her heart to think it had never crossed her mind to ask.

  “I was wondering,” Glain said, as surprised by the words that came out of her mouth as she was by the train of thought that had spawned them. Clearly her subconscious was as eager to avoid the real conversation as her heart. “Someone seems to be practicing rituals in the orchard. I have seen them returning to the Fane late at night. Have you any idea who they are or what they are doing?”

  “No,” Nerys answered flatly, no affect at all. “But I imagine if you were to investigate the orchard you would likely discover what. Ynyr might know who. Perhaps you should ask him.”

  Glain felt sick. “Nerys, I have difficult news.”

  She faltered on “news” and thought she might not recover enough to continue. But it had to be said, this awful unbearable thing, and she had to say it. “Ynyr is dead. We found his body in a second-floor guest room this afternoon. He was overcome by
a Cythraul attack sometime during the night. Nothing could be done for him. We found him too late.”

  Glain didn’t dare pause until she ran out of breath, for fear she might not get it all out. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  It was so brief a disruption in Nerys’s expression that Glain almost missed it, even though she never took her eyes away. Like a cloud passing over the moon, a momentary shadow drifted across her face and then disappeared. Had Glain not seen it, she might have wondered if Nerys had even heard what she said.

  “I know he was important to you,” Glain said, hoping to honor the loss Nerys must be feeling. “You were very important to him.”

  Nerys acknowledged the sentiment with a slight nod and then stood up. “Alwen is waiting, isn’t that so?”

  “Yes, she is,” Glain said. “We should go.”

  Glain searched for something else to say, only to realize how useless it was to try. There were no words big enough to contain what she felt, no sentimental platitudes or customary consolations that would ease the pain. Not for either of them. “And wear your robe. You are still one of us.”

  Glain was beginning to think she had developed a physical aversion to the black camlet robe. She could not have it on her person without suffering a most irritating itch. It was all she could do to be still while she called the roll.

  She had lost sight of Nerys when the formality had begun, but found her now, standing on the dais with Alwen. This was difficult for Glain to accept, but it had been Alwen’s express desire. When Alwen had taken them both aside before entering the hall, Glain was completely unprepared for the directive she had issued. She had protested, but Alwen had pointedly reminded her that there was no one left in the Fane with the skill to carry out her request. Hard as it was, Glain had accepted. The circumstances called for drastic measures.

  Glain turned her irritation to Ariane, who had made herself altogether unavoidable. She was stationed front and center at the head of the assembly, as well an acolyte should be, but there was something triumphant in Ariane’s posture that made Glain uncomfortable. And where were Euday and Verica?

  Without Ynyr, three score and five should be the final tally, with Ilan counted by proxy and Alwen excluded. From the raised dais at the front of the room, she called the apprentices. Once each of them had responded, Glain next read the names of the newly appointed docents. She called the first four names, and all four answered. And then she called Euday.

  When there was no immediate reply, she said his name again, louder. The muffled din of a dozen whispered conversations suddenly silenced. And still there was no response. Glain looked to Alwen.

  Alwen indicated that Glain should continue, but her concern was evident in the brief exchange of veiled glances. This odd development altered everything. Alwen’s plan to reinforce the Fane relied upon the remaining acolytes and the two new prefects, and none of them dared trust Ariane on her own.

  Glain circled Euday’s name and next read Verica’s aloud. As she feared, again there was no answer. Where could they be? To be consistent, Glain called for Verica a second time and then circled her name. She continued with Ariane, Nerys, and finally she came to Ynyr.

  It shredded her soul to line through his name, but it was her duty to correct the official record. Glain presented the membership register to Alwen as the Sovereign came forward to address the assembly.

  “Three absent,” Glain confirmed the record in keeping with the formalities. “Two for whom we apparently cannot account.”

  “Stand with Nerys,” Alwen whispered.

  Glain complied, feeling unnerved. These next dozen hours could easily be even more difficult to endure than the last day had been. Now two more of their friends were missing, and Glain found herself in the unlikely position of taking on Nerys as an ally. How Ynyr would love this, she thought.

  Alwen raised her arms in signal to the guardsmen who were stationed at the entry to close the heavy doors. Emrys and Finn were waiting at the back of the room with a retainer of ten somber-looking soldiers in chain mail and all armed with sword and halberd.

  “Captain of the guard,” Alwen called out.

  Emrys came forward, marching straight through the middle of the crowd. If any of their membership had not fully grasped the seriousness of the situation, they surely did now. Emrys presented himself to Alwen with a clipped bow and then turned to face the audience.

  “Murder has been committed in our temple,” Alwen pronounced, squelching a flurry of murmurs with a wave of one hand. Her voice rang out with more strength and clarity than Glain was expecting. “The honored and noble acolyte Ynyr is dead.”

  Alwen let the pronouncement hang in the silence so that the weight of it should be felt. “Twice now the security of Fane Gramarye has been violated. Twice now the Cythraul have entered this castle. Once in a failed attack on the king not even a week ago, and the second, which resulted in Ynyr’s demise, just this past night.”

  Again a flurry of gasps and exclamations erupted, and again Alwen cut it off with a gesture. This was the first that the membership had heard of the attack on Hywel, and taken together with Ynyr’s death, it was far more frightening.

  “Not even the Hellion horde ever breached the doors of the Fane,” Alwen said. Her tone had grown forceful. “Yet, somehow, the Cythraul have found their way in. They have stalked our halls and preyed upon us almost entirely unhindered.”

  She spoke louder. “There are only two ways the soul-stealers could have entered our midst. Either the veil was weakened to let them through, or the Cythraul were conjured from within it by a summoning spell. Someone in this room provided the means for evil to roam these halls. By the end of this night I will know how, and I will know who.”

  Silence dropped over the room like a shroud. Glain readied herself for what was coming and tried to ignore the compulsion to dig her nails into her arms to attack the infernal itching. The more serious the situation, the more uncomfortable the robe seemed to be. She felt inside her pocket to reassure herself that the parchment Alwen had given her was still safely tucked inside. Even with the spell and Alwen’s confidence in her ability, Glain was unsure.

  “There are two Stewards missing,” Alwen announced. “If anyone here has knowledge of the whereabouts of the prefects Euday and Verica, speak now.”

  The assembly stood as if spell-locked. If any one of them breathed, there was not the slightest sign of it. None of them responded. Glain’s worry had split between concern that Ynyr’s fate had befallen Euday and Verica, and the tiny wriggling worm of suspicion that they were somehow involved.

  “As we speak, the soldiers of the Cad Nawdd are searching the grounds and the castle, room by room, stone by stone.” Alwen gestured toward the two women at her side. “And while they do their work, Glain and Nerys will inspect the integrity of the veil and do whatever must be done to ensure that our defenses are strong.”

  She signaled to Glain that she and Nerys should leave, and then continued to address the rest of the assembly. “The rest of you will remain here and submit to my interrogation. If there is evil among us, it will not be for long.”

  NINETEEN

  Hywel paced endlessly, back and forth around one end of the campfire. Odwain and the two lieutenants the king most trusted provided an attentive, albeit reluctant audience for his venting. Odwain was glad for the seats they’d fashioned from two good-sized timber sections recovered from the brush, which had been set like benches on either side of the fire. Odwain sat on one, and the lieutenants on the other.

  “Clydog is a fool to think he can hold Cwm Brith, even with a dark wizard backing his game.”

  It was dusk on the last night they would spend in the White Woods before leaving the relative shelter of the forest for the merchants’ byway that circumnavigated the forest. Most of the men were already sleeping, but Hywel was restless and consumed with thoughts of his brother. So muc
h so that Odwain was a bit concerned that Hywel had forgotten that their first duty was to intercept Thorvald’s caravan and warn them.

  Odwain had come to admire the king, his grace and his prowess, and even his confidence. He could not help but wonder, though, how much of Hywel’s bravado resulted from the esteem others conferred upon him and how much he had garnered through his own deeds. Odwain thought of Rhys’s father, Bledig Rhi, the barbarian chieftain from whom Odwain had learned that self-assuredness was hard won and respect was earned. Hywel and Bledig were alike in a number of ways, and yet so very different.

  “Cwm Brith sits with its back against a pair of rocky hillocks at the head of a small vale. A handful of men can defend the compound a month or more against a siege, if they are vigilant and the house well-provisioned.” Hywel spoke his thoughts aloud as he paced. “My father built that lodge to be a stronghold as much as a refuge. A direct attack will fail, no matter how many men storm the walls.”

  “Then how will you take it?” Odwain wasn’t entirely sure that Hywel was inviting discussion, but decided to risk it. Odwain wanted to know how the king of the prophecy plotted his strategies and calculated risks against the gains and losses. Was he reckless, as Emrys and some others believed, or was he wise? “Your brother must have support and resources, or he’d never have dared to challenge you in the first place.”

  Hywel was almost eager to answer. “The obvious line of attack is through the vale, from the south or the east, but that forces us into the open. I plan to come from the west. There is a section of forest that nearly abuts the compound, small, but thick enough to mask our movements. The woods give way to a clearing about twenty yards wide that separates the trees from the wall. After dark, two men with the proper experience could approach without catching the sentry’s notice, steal over the wall and overpower the watch, and then open the gates.”