G. Kelly - Sword and Circle

“It’s me, miheth. I’ve brought a mug of ale, in case you were thirsty?”

She shook her head, hands clasped in her lap, favouring her bound and broken fingers. “No, thank you.”

“Are you hungry? I could get some food…”

“No, thank you, G’wain, I’ve eaten.”

“Oh. Anything good? I missed lunch, I fell asleep outside.” Gawain sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and reached out to take her hand.

She shrugged. “A sandwich. Beef I think. Convenient for one who cannot see a plate or its contents.”

“E…”

“I know. Turlock has said the effect might be temporary, but I hear the doubt in his voice. You have not told them, about the circle? They speak only of the battle with Salaman Goth, and Turlock believes my wounds dark wizard-made.”

Gawain nodded, and then realised the futility of such a gesture. “Yes. I told them of the battle, but not of the circle. I was about to, but I found when I came to speak of it, some intuition seemed to silence me.”

“I did not speak of it either. How is Allazar? Last I heard from the healer, he was sleeping.”

“Yes, I believe he still is. I’m glad, he had a very disturbed night.”

“I am worried for him.” Elayeen said softly. “And I fear for him.”

“You fear for him?” Gawain gasped, “Why?”

Her head dropped, hair tumbling to cover her eyes. “I fear the world has become a very dangerous place for wizards, and he has ever been a friend.”

Gawain said nothing, and turned on the bed to face her, brushing back her hair and tilting up her chin. She reached up, and held his hand to her face, gazing sightlessly at his chest.

“I am so sorry, miheth.” She sighed, the words carrying with them a pain so profound Gawain did not understand.

“Sorry?” He gasped, drawing closer, “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry I failed you. Sorry I was not worthy of the Great Circle in the hall of your fathers. Sorry for the harm I have done to Allazar because of it.”

“What are you saying, Elayeen, I don’t understand? What do you mean?”

She turned her face towards him, anguish making the tears flow. “I am faranthroth, I should not have trespassed there! If I had not been faranthroth, the wave would not have stopped, it would have raced on and destroyed all to the north, it would not have returned to smite the hall of your fathers, and Allazar would not have been harmed!”

“Dwarfspit and Elve’s Blood, Elayeen you cannot believe this is true! Tell me you cannot believe this!”

But Elayeen was inconsolable. “Why else would the circle cast me from you, G’wain? Why else would it rob me of the sight of you, and take from us the throth that bound our lives together? The circle judged me, G’wain, and has removed me from your destiny. Because of me, Morloch is not destroyed, because of me, I can no longer give you my strength to aid you in the coming war.”

Gawain stared at her, her precious, beautiful and tear-streaked face in his hands, and then like the blinding light of the circle, realisation dawned upon him at last.

“Oh miheth! No!” he gasped and gathered her into his arms. “No, no no… don’t you remember? Don’t you remember my love what Allazar said to us before we entered the circle?”

She shuddered in his arms, and he felt his own tears coursing. “He said each of the circles was waiting, waiting for one person possessed of all the qualities needed to unlock it. The circle was waiting for you, my love, just as you were, just as you were. Just as you were, for you, and for no other. If you had not been faranthroth, if I had not taken you out of Elvendere… the circle would not have opened.”

She seemed to melt then, and the floodgates of her tears opened, and he held her, repeating her name, and ‘for you, and for no other.’

After night fell and Elayeen had slept some more and the healer had checked on her again and told Gawain that the wizard still slept, they were given peace. Gawain lay on top of the bed, Elayeen beneath the sheet and wrapped in his arms, he stroking her hair and she his arm. For a long time they spoke not, content to be close, and yearning for something to fill the aching void of the throth that the circle had ripped from them.

At length, he told her of the guilt he felt at unleashing the circle and she gently gave him back his own words, attesting to the fact that the circle had been waiting only for him too. They pledged their love to one another anew with quiet words and the gentlest of touches, and forgave each other for the guilt and pain the other felt. And much later, when soft rain fell outside and the gulls were silent, Elayeen reached for him in the darkness, and drew him to her, and they clung to each other with frightening desperation.

It was the following afternoon when the whitesleeves finally and somewhat grudgingly gave his consent to allow Elayeen to rise from the bed, with the stern instruction that she was to venture no further from the inn than the wells across the broad cobbled area that was the southern terminus of the road to Jarn. Her clothes had been cleaned, apparently with great care, and after much clumsy fumbling on Gawain’s behalf, Elayeen was finally dressed and standing in the middle of the room.

“Am I presentable?” she asked softly, eyes downcast.

“You are beautiful miheth, you could wear an old potato-sack and still be presentable.”

“I do not feel beautiful, G’wain. I feel broken.”

Gawain took her hands in his and pressed them to his chest before wrapping his arms about her and gently touching his forehead against hers. “They are the prettiest potato-sacks we could find,” he whispered, “Stop complaining.”

Elayeen could not help the sudden smile that tugged away her embarrassment at being unable to dress herself. “No it is not sack-cloth, G’wain,” she whined quietly, like a little girl, “They’re my own clothes, don’t laugh at me.”

They kissed, and then Gawain cradled her face in his hands. “Never.”

Elayeen smiled sadly, and then frowned, prompting a hasty “Is something wrong?” from Gawain.

“No,” she said tilting her head this way and that. “Am I standing in sunlight? It seems… brighter.”

Gawain’s heart sank a little. “No, E, the window is behind you, and the curtains are still drawn against the day.”

“Oh.” Elayeen looked crestfallen.

“Perhaps it is a good sign,” Gawain smiled, “A sign that your sight will return. Perhaps all you need is more rest, maybe some fresh air…”

“Yes,” she agreed quickly, “I should like to feel the sun on my face, G’wain.”

With that, he turned, his left arm about her shoulders, her right tightly about his waist, and her left hand, broken fingers bound together, resting lightly on his chest.

“I am frightened.” She whispered. “I am so frightened, Gawain.”

“I will never let you fall, miheth,” Gawain replied, trying hard to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

He led her to the door and through it, across the empty public room, and out through the wide open doors of the inn to the boardwalk beyond.

“Do you want to walk all the way to the wells, or are you comfortable here?”

“It’s not far, G’wain, I was here before, remember? I won’t slip on the cobbles. But do not let go.”

“Then we shall cross to the wells,” Gawain agreed, “Where Captain Tyrane and his sergeant are waiting, and watching.”

“Oh. You are sure I am presentable? My hair…”

“…Is captivating, if their expressions are anything to go by. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with twenty seven men of Callodon all besotted with you. You are my queen, after all.”