REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1) (20 page)

Hunted

         
Meanwhile Gwenth and Briok walked along the rocky shore. They watched as the tide washed inland. Each wave created a new line in the sand, washing away the old line as the water rushed back into the sea. Gwenth showed Briok how to skip stones out over the water. Gwenth’s aim was true and she could bounce a four maybe five times, before the stone invariably sunk into the sea.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that this place looks so much like my homeland? I mean look up there, even the headland is similar, and doesn’t that look like the cavern entrance to you?” Briok said, pointing up the side of the cliff.

Gwenth bent down and picked up a flat gray stone, she stood rubbing her fingers over the smooth surface as she considered his remark. She looked up the jagged cliff face. There was a dark place, but it could be just a shadow. Gwenth finally shook her head, “I can’t say honestly, I mean I never did go outside the cavern.”

Briok looked on as Gwenth turned easily away from him. He saw her raised her arm, her hair glinting brightly in the afternoon sun, and then came the release and the flat stone skittered gracefully out across the dark grey water. Briok felt his heart pounding, like a sea wave battering against hard stone. Unconsciously he raised his hand and placed it protectively over his chest. “You never went outside? But then how did they find us? The Rowan put a spell on the cavern so no one would notice.”

Gwenth turned back to Briok and he realized her features held the look she used when something made her feel peevish.  “You told me to not to go out… remember? So I didn’t. I admit I did stand near the entrance once, and looked outside, but I never went out. Suddenly her face changed, and the mischievous grin replaced her anger. “Besides I can’t imagine we are going to figure out the mystery of the cliff, from down here, anyway. I think you need to practice your running!” Gwenth reached over and grabbed Briok’s hand and pulled him into a run up the steep cliff side.

Briok let himself be caught up in the moment, and felt his spirit lighten even as he ran awkwardly, but steadily toward the cliff trail.

They scrambled hand over foot up the steep trail, as fast as their bodies would allow.  Their lithe bodies bent nearly double, as they followed the sheep trail ever upward.

Gwenth kept looking over at the dark underside of the beachhead. Yes there could be a cave entrance there. She wondered why she had never noticed it before.

“Do you think you are ever going to free your magic?” Briok reached over head grabbing onto the low lying brush to pulling himself slowly forward up the incline.

Gwenth felt her left eye twitch. The last month had been hard. The sisters had pushed her, but she could still barely do the most basic magic. What she could do wasn’t enough to save anyone, she was quite sure of that. Meredith had encouraged her all along the way, even when the other two sisters had only hissed at her attempts, but still her powers were very poor indeed. Gwenth pushed her sweaty red hair out of her eyes. Suddenly, she stopped and turning on the trail, she looked Briok right in the eye. “Well I sure wish I could put us right on top of the cliff without all this work and sweat,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Briok looked at his friends flushed face. He saw the twitch. “I see the twitch is back.”

Gwenth turned quickly away, brushing the back of her hand across her eye. “It’s nothing, I’m probably just tired from trying to see your wings,” she said.

“You don’t have to hide it, ya know. I can see you’re afraid and I know about that too,” he said, as he scrambled over the white stones to catch up to her on the trail.

Gwenth looked over at Briok. “You do? I mean you are afraid?”

“Sure, look at me I can’t do magic either and I won’t be able to until I get back home and have my awakening. I feel afraid of not getting back, and of maybe needing to hide my wings forever.”

Gwenth patted Briok’s shoulder and felt the hard wing connections under her hand.

“I’m not a very good witch am I?”

Briok laughed and shook his head. “Maybe not now, but someday you will be a mighty witch. Did I ever tell you I dreamt that?”

Gwenth reached over the embankment grabbing for handholds she pulled herself over the edge and threw herself down upon the solid ground. “No, you never told me that. When was that?”

Pulling himself over the edge, Briok laid back in the sparse grass, not far from Gwenth. His body trembled uncontrollably from the physical exertion. “That was a horrible climb.” Briok carefully slid the back of his hand across his face, wiping the sweat away. His breath came out ragged and loud. “It just came back to me, again, the other night. It took me a while to recognize you,” he said huffing.

Gwenth sat up and looked out over the rough water, she felt herself blush. “Well a great witch, I don’t know about that? Come on, we better hurry I want to show you the wall and from here I can see the wind has come up and there are whitecaps, we are in for a storm,” she said. Gwenth stood easily and brushed her long skirt off.

Briok followed Gwenth along the edge of the cliff and out onto the rocky headland. Here the stone cap protruded far out over the sea. Looking about the headland, it was clear to him that the wind blew hard all year round. The wind had scoured away every trace of soil, leaving the brightly colored stone exposed. Except for a few hardy lichens that clung unperturbed by the winds, nothing else grew on the stone’s smooth face. Briok noticed dark smudges that stained the rock’s surface; they lay like great burn marks across the face of the stone. Bending to examine the stone more closely, Briok realized the marks were in part circular striations. The lines moved outward across the stone’s glossy surface, he laid his palm against the stone, it felt smooth and cold to his touch, but from a deep faraway place he sensed it was familiar to him. Standing back up, he could see the stone’s width was great.  His mind raced ahead, he had to tell Gwenth. Turning away from the stone, he saw she had wondered down into a low depression set back from the cliff’s edge. There, he could see a stone wall stretching out in a semi-circle. Briok hurried down into the basin shaped hollow. No wind entered the hollow, set below and behind the cap as it was, but still nothing grew upon the rocky ground. The wall appeared in good shape; he strolled over and ran his hands over the stones. He could feel how closely they fit together. At the end of the semi-circle a piece of the wall lay on its side. These stones lay in shambles and several of the stones were grossly misshapen. “I wonder what happened here,” he said pointing the damaged piece to Gwenth.

“Papa always said the story goes that giants had some kind of machine that could melt rock, and that time stopped the day the stones fell.”

Briok felt a shiver race along his spine. Could a story have reached from his time into Gwenth’s world? He forced himself to walk slowly around the inner perimeter of the wall. It was hard to tell, but he had a bad feeling. Stopping midway he got down and began to dig slowly in the sandy soil.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he said continuing to dig, “When I was young I buried a small box of magicked wood my mother had made for me.”

Gwenth felt confused. “Why would you dig here?” Are you still saying that you think this is the same place, as in your world? I don’t understand how that can be?”

Briok stopped digging and looked up at Gwenth, “It is! I’m sure of it. Up there, that stone, the glossy one, it is so much the same as my great Rowan back home, even the stone has rings like a tree, and this has to be the same wall though I can’t imagine how any of that can be. I want some proof, if I can get it.” He turned his attention back to the small hole he had hollowed out in the packed soil.

Gwenth turned away, her eyes searched the ground as she walked. Finding what she was looking for she bent down and picked up a small, but sturdy stick.  Turning around, she walked over the rough ground to where Briok knelt before the stone. “Here, if this is the same wall, there may be a lot of sand on top of the box,” she said, handing him the stick.

Briok looked up and seeing the stick, took it from her. “Thanks. I think you’re right.” He knelt down and with the stick began to break loose the dirt in the hole.

Gwenth turned away and walked to the outer most edge of the cliff. Here the winds scoured the rock bare all along the outcropping. Gwenth looked down at the strange, smooth stone under her feet. It was an odd rock; she had seen very few like it. She would show Briok the others, though they were far smaller. Looking up, she watched the storm clouds gathering out over the sea. The clouds had grown steadily taller and were now heavy and dark with rain. The wind had risen steadily as well, and it took Gwenth some effort, to stay upright in the wind, as it came blasting over the water. She heard what sounded like a keening far out over the sea. The sound cut straight through her and she felt her fear rise up, as if it could almost choke her. Gwenth swallowed hard, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickling. Maybe, this wasn’t the best time to be high up here on the headlands.  She studied the white caps, trying to gauge the storm’s ferocity, when suddenly she was hit from behind. Gwenth fell to the ground. 

The wind, which had been howling only moments before was suddenly silent. She felt an odd sense of peace come over her, as she watched the gathering storm raging out to sea. Gwenth lay still. Her mind wondered aimlessly. She stared out over the grey water. Her breath came ragged and her side gave a searing jolt of pain when she tried to breathe too deeply. It hurt too much to breath. She would close her eyes, just for a moment. Briok wouldn’t mind.

Suddenly her eyes flew open. Briok was in danger! She had to get up. Gwenth, tried to rise up, but fell back as the pain tore through her. Desperate now, she searched her memory, finally hitting upon an idea. Carefully, painfully, she rolled to her stomach, and began slowly inching her way backwards, till she was on her knees. Sweat rolled into Gwenth’s eyes, she fought hard not to lose the contents of her stomach or her consciousness. She saw the Rowan branch lying forgotten on the stone, where it landed when she fell. Reaching out she pulled it close, and swung it under her, using it to force herself upright.

She turned as quickly as she dared, pain seared throughout her body, but her instincts to protect her friend, drove her on. She was very afraid that whatever had knocked her down would have already killed Briok. Gwenth couldn’t believe her eyes; as she focused her eyes on the stone wall. Briok was fighting hand to hand with a gigantic brown bear. Where had it come from? There hadn’t been any bears, in the wilds of Scotland for many years.

Gwenth startled as she was still couldn’t help but stare at the bear, which rather than just outright killing the Fey, seemed to be trying to tear off Briok’s coat instead. Gwenth’s eyes searched the bare ground for a weapon. Just then Dembys whispered in her ear, reminding her of the skipping stone in her pouch. Gwenth reached into her pouch and removed the last stone; she hobbled as near as she dared. She knew she would have but one chance. Gwenth steadied herself with the branch under her bad arm, and leaning back as far as she dared, she took careful aim at the bear’s large brown head. Hopefully it would be enough. It had to be enough. Gwenth snapped her wrist and released the stone in mid-air, as she did the branch unwittingly came slamming down hard upon the earth. The stone flew through the air as if driven by a steadier hand than she possessed, right toward its mark.

The ground trembled ever so slightly; the bear sensing trouble turned its head, out toward the sea, just as the stone arrived crashing into its thick brown snout. The bear roared out, in pain and fell to the ground. It lay momentarily stunned rubbing its great paws across its injured snout. Blood gushed from the torn skin.  The bear rose up on its haunches and angrily shook out’s its shaggy mane. The creature threw its large head back, and the animal’s great roar cut like a knife through the keening sounds of the rising wind. The bear dropped to its four feet and rushed at Gwenth.

Gwenth had hoped to knock the bear out. It was obvious; she had only angered the bear. She felt herself tremble with fear, as the bear opened its gaping maw and let out a terrific roar. It was clear even to her fear filled brain the beast would be upon her in a flash. Gwenth could do nothing more, she knew she was too injured to run and there was not time to find or launch a second stone. Gwenth steeled herself, forced herself to rise up to her full height, even as the bear stepped within reach. She felt the wind change as its great paw slashed outward ready to take her head. In anger, her arm slammed the branch into the ground as she shouted, “No!” The ground shifted and rolled as if hit by a sledge hammer. The bear lurched and lost its footing, its momentum coupled with the undulating ground carried it right past Gwenth. She threw herself to the ground, trying to avoid the bear’s body as it hurled past her. She could see that though the beast tried, the bear could not scramble backwards fast enough. Gwenth watched from her place on the ground, as the bear’s great hulking body careened over the cliff’s edge. She heard its great roar as it fell headlong towards the sea.

Briok ran first to the cliff’s edge and carefully looked over. Below storm waters were crashing, carrying the sea’s waves high up onto the rocky shore. There was no sign at all of the bear. Briok turned back to see what was taking Gwenth so long.

Gwenth stood slowly. She felt her energy waning. Her hair had come loose from its braid during the struggle and now hung like a curtain before her eyes. Gwenth reached her bloody hand up, to push her hair out of the way, but exhausted she faltered and fell to the ground.