R. Anderson - Wayfarer

“Give us the herbs,” said one of the faery guards, holding out her hand, and with a scowl Timothy swung his backpack off his shoulder. He opened the side pocket, pulled out the wilted, muddy clump he had taken from St. David’s churchyard, and flung it at the guards’ feet.

Linden looked at Garan, silently begging him to stand up and do something to support them. But he would not meet her gaze, and before she could even speak his name he vanished. Like stars winking out, the other Children of Rhys followed his example, and in moments every seat in the chamber was empty.

Her eyes prickled as she stared at the place where Garan had been. His desertion hurt, but it also stunned her to see how easily these faeries could transport themselves from one place to another with a single thought. Surely, if the Children of Rhys had that much power, it would have been no difficulty for them to share some of it with the Oakenfolk. Yet they had not been willing to do even that, except on their own impossible terms…and now her people’s last hope of salvation was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Timothy say in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Linden took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “You were right.”

“Walk,” said another of the guards, pointing his spear toward the sculpted archway through which they had come. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Linden obeyed-and in a few steps she and Timothy emerged once more at the edge of the little wood, with the wildflower-dotted meadow stretching before them. Two of the guards stepped out in front of them, while the other two fell in behind, and in silence they waded through the tangled, hissing grass until they reached the shoreline.

“The boat is there,” the female guard said, pointing imperiously. “Get into it, and be gone.”

Timothy went first, tossing his backpack into the bottom of the boat with a thump and climbing in after it. His face was set with anger, but Linden felt only a weary sadness. She was just about to follow when she heard Garan’s voice, and turned back to see him standing in the midst of the four guards, gesturing earnestly as he talked with them. They seemed unimpressed, but at last the leader nodded, and he and all but one male guard disappeared.

“I’ll just be a moment, Llinos,” said Garan. Then he hurried down the stairs to meet Timothy and Linden on the beach.

“I came to plead with you,” he said, clasping Linden’s hand between both his own. “It is not too late for you to accept the Elders’ offer. If you return with me now, and tell them you are sorry-”

“I am not sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back and curling it into a fist. “There is no place here for me or my people, whatever your Elders might say.”

Garan’s shoulders slumped. “Then I can only bid you good-bye.”

“Come with us,” Linden urged, but he shook his head.

“I cannot,” he said. “For all that I spoke boldly of taking a stand, I am not ready to leave the Gwerdonnau Llion . Not yet.” He backed away from the boat, one hand lifting in a sad farewell. Then he vanished.

Emotion welled up in Linden, threatening to shatter her composure. Ducking her head so that the watching guard would not see her face, she stepped into the boat and sat down, hands folded in her lap. She had just settled herself when a great wave rushed in, lifting the vessel from the sand and pulling it out to sea.

As they floated toward a set of pillars that looked just like the ones closer to the shore, Timothy rested his chin on his hand, staring into the distance. After a moment he said, “I didn’t take Garan for such a coward.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly,” she replied, though it was hard to keep her voice from trembling. “He did what he could.”

Timothy gave a derisive snort. “If you say so. It sounded like a lot of useless talk to me.”

Linden forced herself to keep silent until the waves carried them through the portal, and they emerged safely on the other side. Then she broke into a smile, and opened her hand to reveal the parting gift Garan had given her.

“Is that-” started Timothy, sitting bolt upright in his seat, but Linden held a warning finger to her lips. For all they knew, the Children of Rhys might still be listening.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, trying to sound sad and hopeless-as indeed she had been, until Garan pressed the Stone of Naming into her hand. “Right now, all I want is to get back to shore.”

The tide was high as they reached the little cove, and their boat pitched and rolled as it rode the breakers in. Linden made herself small and leaped into the air, easily dodging the spray, but Timothy was forced to leap for the cliffside, and a cold wave drenched his legs at once. Hands numb, feet slipping wetly inside his shoes, he scrabbled for a hold on the rocks and then began edging up the narrow, treacherous path toward the mainland.

“I can’t see the Blackwings anywhere,” called Linden from above. After a moment she added hopefully, “But we were gone for hours. Maybe they’ve given up?”

“It’d be…nice…to think so.” Timothy panted, all his concentration focused on not slipping. It seemed forever before he reached the top of the cliff, and when he got there he was spent: He collapsed onto the muddy grass and lay there, not even caring whether the Blackwings were coming or not.

“Are you all right?” asked Linden.

Timothy licked the sea salt off his lips and let his head fall back with a gentle thud. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Just give me a minute.”

Linden sat down on a rock by his side, the Stone of Naming cupped in her hand. “I can’t believe Garan just gave it to us,” she said softly, turning it over in her fingers. “He must have known he’d be punished, maybe even exiled, when the other Children of Rhys found out. And yet he wouldn’t come with us either.”

Timothy struggled up onto his elbows and looked out over the edge of the cliff. There was no trace left of the Green Isles or the boat that had carried them there, just the empty, wind-chopped sea. Even the little cove with the standing stones had vanished, as though it had been nothing more than a dream. “He’s never lived anywhere but those islands,” he said slowly. “Maybe he just can’t bring himself to leave unless he’s got no other choice.”

“Maybe,” said Linden, but she sounded doubtful. “So where do we go now?”

“As far from here as we can, before the Blackwings come back,” said Timothy. He sat up, and the chill wind sliced through his wet jeans like a machete; instantly his teeth began to chatter, and he rubbed his thighs in a desperate effort to warm them. “I saw…a hostel on the way up from St. David’s. We could stop there…ask them the quickest way back to London.”

“Yes, but…” Linden’s small face wrinkled with concern. “We don’t have enough money to get all the way back home, do we?”

Here we go again , thought Timothy, but without resentment. If he’d succeeded in forcing Linden to pay their way with glamour the last time, they’d never have been allowed to visit the Children of Rhys. “We could call Paul and Peri. Maybe one of them could drive out….”

Linden shook her head. “I don’t want to do that. They’ve already risked enough for us. And remember what Rob said, when Paul wanted to come with us before?” She pursed her lips, then said determinedly, “All right. You get us to the train station. I’ll get us home.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Linden put the Stone of Naming in her pocket and stood, flexing her wings. “I’ll turn us both invisible.”

How this was any less dishonest than buying a ticket with glamour Timothy couldn’t tell, and he was about to say so when she added, “And we’ll pay for our ride properly later.”