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

Pulling a steadying breath deep into her lungs, Glain gripped the door handle and turned until the latch slid back. She paused for an instant, listening for any sign of being from within. Satisfied there was none, she flung the door in and struck a defensive pose at the threshold. Nothing would pass her unchallenged.

It took a dozen heartbeats for her eyes to adjust to the unlit space. At first she saw only shapeless shadow, like a curtain of black wool draping the entry. Slowly her vision sharpened and the blackness refined itself, until the realization of what awaited in the darkness struck her so hard that she staggered.

Glain stumbled forward and fell to her knees at the feet of the twisted, stiffened figure that lay on the floor between the door and the cot. The room was so rife with the stench of the Cythraul, she gagged, choking on the acrid mixture of bile and stifled sobs roiling in her chest.

Ilan retrieved the lantern and rushed to her side. His light fully exposed the grotesquery and shocked him to a dead stop. Ilan let out a low groan and muttered an angry epithet in the old tongue, followed by a gentle blessing meant for the protection and safe passage of a departed spirit.

“Great Gods, Glain,” he said. “He looks unnatural. What happened to him?”

Glain was so devastated she could hardly speak. She forced herself to stand, to tear her eyes from Ynyr’s hideously contorted face and to detach from her horror in order to function with at least a little clarity and dignity. If she did not lead, who would?

“His soul has been torn from his body. The darkling shroud sucks out the very essence of a person. It is a slow and
agonizing
process, even when the victim surrenders to it. Ynyr did not
surrender
.”

Ilan crouched beside the remains to examine them more closely. Glain cringed as he poked and prodded and then pulled at Ynyr’s crooked limbs. They were rigid.

“His body is cold,” Ilan deduced. “Death came to him some hours ago.” Ilan turned to look up at her, alarmed. “Would the wraith still be loose somewhere in the Fane?”

Glain had no idea, but then she could hardly think straight. Still, the last thing she wanted was to admit uncertainty to Ilan. “Once they have overtaken their intended victim, the Cythraul return to whomever it was that summoned them in the first place.”

“You assume, then, that Ynyr was the intended victim?”

Was he? Or had he surprised the soul-stealer on its way to attack someone else? Glain envisioned Ynyr trapped in the darkling shroud, helpless and alone. Sorrow nearly cracked the thin and fragile mask of control she had fashioned, and she swallowed the wail that kept rising in her throat. Mustering every ounce of determination, she focused on following the most rational trail of thought. “You said yourself he was overcome hours ago. He was last seen yesterday eve, on his way to the storeroom. I would have to think that was when he was attacked. If the Cythraul were still in the vicinity, someone else would have encountered it by now.”

Ilan nodded, reassured. “Outside this room, the scent trail is weak.”

“Raise the alarm anyway.” Pedr had managed to make his way to the doorway, sword at the ready. “Whether the threat has passed or not, the Fane has still been invaded. And unless you have some idea how and by whom, we are still vulnerable. The grounds must be searched and any breach reinforced. And I’m afraid until you have accounted for the rest of your membership, you cannot possibly know if this one Steward is the only casualty.”

“Yes. Of course, you’re right.” Glain felt foolish for not thinking the situation through. “Ilan, gather help from the apprentices in the spell rooms down the hall. Send someone capable to stay with our wounded warrior here, and then summon Emrys to Alwen’s quarters. Order the membership to gather in the main hall and wait for me there.”

Ilan scrambled madly down the hall, leaving Glain alone with the corpse. It frightened her, the malformed shell that had once held the essence that was her truest friend. She couldn’t stand to think what he must have suffered in those final moments, and yet the thoughts filled her mind anyway. The putrid, inescapable smothering of the darkling, tearing and shredding at his consciousness until he could no longer resist; it was beyond hideous. Agony sent a violent shudder through her.

“Pull the door closed now,” said Pedr. “You only torment yourself, standing there staring at him, and nothing good can come of that.”

It was kind advice, and wise, though Glain was inexplicably reluctant to take it. It seemed too final an act to shut the door on what was left of him. She could not shake the childish feeling that until he left her sight, Ynyr was not truly gone.

“Come,” Pedr said, gently insistent. “Help me back to my bed before you go.”

Glain complied, grateful for direction when she felt so profoundly lost. Ynyr had been her guide at times like these, but she could not bear that thought now. She offered Pedr her hand for balance, though he seemed perfectly able to walk all on his own. He sheathed his sword with relative ease, even with only one good shoulder, and stood the scabbard against the wall next to the head of his bead.

“You seem to be doing remarkably well on your own,” she observed.

“You needed the distraction.” Pedr sat on the edge of his bed and eased himself onto the cot. His attempt at a wry smile was only half successful, and he was perspiring more than he should. “And I’m afraid things aren’t always what they seem.”

Glain began to wish she hadn’t sent Ilan away. “Are you in pain?”

“No more than I was before. Just not as steady on my feet as I’d like to think,” he confessed. Once he was still, the color returned to his face. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Glain pulled the blanket up to his chest and then noticed Pedr was watching her.

“Yes. And so will you. You are strong.” His eyes were a mire of hidden emotion, powerfully expressive and unnervingly deep. “There will come a proper time to honor your friend.”

These simple, honest words nearly broke her. Glain accepted them with a polite nod, wishing she could trust her voice enough to thank this near stranger properly for his kindness. Somehow he had known what she most needed to hear, and whether he knew it or not, he had helped her.

E
IGHTEEN

H
er hands were shaking so hard she could barely pull on the door latch, and yet Glain’s thoughts were clear and focused. As she knocked and opened the door to Alwen’s suite, Emrys appeared at the top of the staircase and rushed to follow her inside.

“What has happened?”

Alwen was startled by the abrupt interruption, but Glain managed to block the doorway long enough for the Sovereign to sit straight on the divan and make her best presentation. She looked stronger than Glain expected, strong enough that Emrys might not notice her sunken eyes and sallow skin.

Not that she need worry. Emrys was so agitated, he was unable to restrain himself long enough for Glain to speak, and blurted out his concerns. “There should be double the guard at your door, Sovereign.”

“I will first hear what Glain has to say,” Alwen said, subtly reminding Emrys of his place. He deferred, but it appeared to pain him to do so.

“Ynyr is dead.” Glain had to swallow hard to find enough spit to speak. Tears burned her eyes, and a sob tightened the back of her throat. “We found his body in one of the second-floor guest quarters. He succumbed to the darkling.”

“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 du
ty.”

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 wor
king.
”

“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.