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If there was one place Dominic could disappear, it was a forest, and the Raiders’ camp was stuck right in the middle of one.
Having been told the general direction it was in, Dominic had encountered no difficulty in finding it. There was not an actual path as such, but the Raiders had as good as trampled one there, evidently choosing to navigate the woods on horseback.
Dominic stalked them from the trees around its perimeter, trying to determine the best point of entry, the most likely place they would be holding Gwyn. He had to assume she was still alive or he would not be, and that thought was all that stood between him and blind panic.
The ache in his body had taken on a sharper quality in the time since he’d left the cottage, keeping him alert, but though the camp was teeming with black-garbed men, their eyes passed right over him when they bothered looking toward the trees at all. It was not yet dawn, and Dominic was sure that between that and the trees, he would not be seen unless he chose to be.
He was near one of the outer buildings, some abandoned, half-burned hut or cottage made partly of stone, when his keen ears picked up the sounds of men arguing.
He caught a word or two that seemed to suggest they were talking about a woman, and he crept closer, staying in the shadows.
“It’s not working, we need to try something else. Maybe fire? ” a male voice said.
“No, we can’t risk hurting her too badly, or she won’t be able to do what we need her to. But there are other ways,” another said, taking on a sly tone. “She’s really very pretty when you get past all the blood. Maybe there’s something else that would suit us all much better...maybe a different kind of blade? ”
Dominic felt a chill descend over him as it had at Meg’s cottage, clarity pushing past the pain in his body and restoring speed to his movements. He wasn’t sure if the woman they were talking about was Gwyn, but the very suggestion that it could be was enough. His knife already in his hand, he was around the building and through the door with his next breath.
The first Raider fell with a gurgling scream as his throat was cut, then Dominic was on the next one, his blade finding its way between that man’s ribs before finishing him at the neck. He turned to see the third man, his weapon raised toward Dominic, was already collapsing to the floor, his face a rictus of silent agony.
Dominic turned toward the room, his heart missing a beat as he took in Gwyn, tied to the table, her head raised as far as she could manage.
There was blood. A lot of blood. He immediately recognized the pattern of cuts on her arms, legs, and torso, and if he had eaten recently, he was sure he would have gotten sick.
He had used the same pattern before himself.
Dominic did not normally see the people who had been subjected to his “questioning” as people. They were means to an end for him, and nothing more.
But this was Gwyn, and having once seen her as a person, he could not stop seeing her as one. She was a woman who had saved his life and hidden him in her cellar and traveled with him to a forest whose occupants could have murdered her on sight. Even if she’d later mocked him, how could he blame her at the end of the day? Who wouldn’t have done the same with the state he had been in? Hadn’t he earned it?
That what he had done to others had been done to her tore at him. He was suddenly so desperate to get her off that table that he almost dropped his knife in his haste to cut the ropes. When it was done, he went to her side, fully expecting to have to pick her up and carry her out, but she was already standing, tugging down her skirt over her bloody legs.
“Dominic, there’s a woman in one of the other cottages. They’re holding her, too,” she said, her voice just above a whisper as she glanced nervously at the doorway. “She’s very sick. ”
Dominic shook his head, his eyes still riveted to her wounds, his stomach churning. “We can’t risk it. We can’t overthrow an entire camp. Maybe if I had a few hours and a bow, but not now. Can you walk? ”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes wide.
He frowned, wondering if she was just being brave and was going to drop at some inopportune time while fleeing the camp, but he didn’t have the time to press her. He grasped her sleeve and started to lead her out, but the scream and brief scuffle at the door had already attracted notice.
Raiders were advancing on the cottage, all of them armed.
Dominic grimaced and went to the rear window. There was no glass and no shutters, but it was narrow enough to be a squeeze. He didn’t like the idea of pushing Gwyn through it with open bleeding cuts all over her, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t sure how stable the roof was in its charred state, and there was no other way out.
“Out through the back,” he urged, pulling her towards it. “Quickly now. Head straight for the trees whether you see me or not. ”
She obeyed without hesitation, and the moment she was clear of the window, he followed behind. She was still getting to her feet rather unsteadily as he landed on his own beside her, but there were already Raiders coming around the sides of the building.
All he could think was, there’s no time for her to run. She can’t see in the dark. She’ll run face-first into a tree trunk, and it will all be over.
He grabbed her and threw her over one shoulder, then took off in a run for the trees. He immediately heard shouts and sounds of pursuit, but he wove his way through to make it more difficult for anyone considering a pursuit on horseback to follow, assuming they could even see him in the thickening darkness of the woods. His body screamed in protest, and he felt like everywhere her body touched him burned, but he pushed himself like the gatekeeper’s own minions were at their heels until he was sure he couldn’t do it any longer.
He stopped at the base of a tree with fairly low branches and set her down as carefully as he could. She looked very pale.
“Time to go up,” he told her, panting. “Can you climb? ”
Her eyes darted from him to the tree and back again. “Well, it’s been awhile,” she admitted. “And I can’t exactly see very well. ”
“Get on my back then. We don’t have time for you to remember. ” He turned his back to her, shifting the haversack strapped to his body to the front of him and already dreading the press of her torso against his back. He tried frantically not to think about it.
A moment later, her arms were around him, and he stiffened in shock as one leg went around his waist, followed by the other.
“Dominic? Am I too heavy? ” she asked a heartbeat later, her breath tickling his ear.
That reminded him to breathe, as he realized he’d just stopped. Breathing is good. Keep breathing. Need air, he ordered himself.
He gave a small shake of his head, not trusting his voice, and forced himself to move. He was grateful for the darkness and the summer foliage that hid them as he climbed up as far as he dared with a passenger.
He peered out at the neighboring trees, but he already knew it was going to be extremely difficult moving between them at this height with Gwyn on his back. He could no longer hear the pursuing Raiders and was sure he had to have lost them, but he had no idea how long it would take them to catch up. They had to get a safe distance away in the sliver of time remaining before daybreak. Gwyn was bleeding, and he was already exhausted, the events of the night catching up with him in his weakened condition.
“What do you mean to do? ” Gwyn whispered in his ear.
A shudder went through him at the proximity of her lips to his ear that he couldn’t contain, and for a moment, his mind went blank, and all he was cognizant of was her limbs wrapped around him and the swell of her breasts against his shoulder blades...
“Dominic? Are you all right? ” Her voice was more urgent and thick with worry, and it jarred him just enough to regain some semblance of rational thought.
“Please stop talking,” he said roughly, and then he continued his path through the trees, traveling very cautiously from branch to branch and from tree to tree, all his effort focused on just getting them from point to point without toppling off from the added weight of Gwyn, misjudging any distances or the strength of any given branch. All the while, he listened carefully, but he heard nothing except the startled response of the night birds flying off at his approach and the crickets finishing their nightly hymn.
All too quickly, the sun was rising, and Dominic was unsure of just how far they had, or hadn’t, managed to travel. The day was dawning hot, not that Gwyn’s body heat helped, and he felt like his shirt was soaked through with sweat.
He no longer felt any chills, but it was hard to be grateful for that as sweat dripped down his face. He wiped an arm over his forehead, pausing against a trunk to catch his breath. Gwyn’s limbs were starting to shake, no doubt from the effort of hanging on and the pain of her wounds, but the experience was excruciating for him, forcefully returning his awareness to what was so near to him, desire shadowed with guilt.
“I don’t know if this is far enough, but we can’t keep going,” he managed to say, swallowing hard. His mouth was very dry. “Do you think you can rest up here? ”
He’d managed to choose a particularly stout branch as a stopping point, but already he was worried she would fall right off the moment she was no longer clinging to him.
He felt her nod or thought he did, and a moment later one of her legs went down, then the other. She stood that way for a moment, but he could feel her swaying and put his hands on the arms still wrapped around him, not quite holding them.
“Let go slowly,” he murmured. “Slowly. ”
Gwyn complied, gradually pulling her arms back. His hands fell away, and he turned very slowly to her, easily navigating the small space.
She looked very white, and her eyes were very big. She just stood there, looking at him but not really seeing him, a distant look in her eyes.
Dominic felt a fresh wave of worry. Maybe she’s in shock. Then he thought of how calm she had been in the cottage. He’d never even heard her cry out, yet he had been near the cottage when those men had been cutting on her. He’d never seen a grown man stay silent for long under the same circumstances.
“Was this the first time you’ve ever been...? ” He motioned vaguely to her arms, hoping she would understand. Bizarrely, he didn’t think he could say anymore, and that knowledge made him uncomfortable.
“I’ve cut myself while slicing vegetables before,” she offered. “That’s not much different, is it? ”
He stared at her a moment, aghast. He didn’t know where to start. “I...I should bandage you up. Those cuts can fester. ”
“Don’t bother. They’ll be gone by tomorrow. You saw what I did to one of them. ” Her voice was impassive, but her lower lip had begun to tremble in a perilous way.
“You were defending yourself, Gwyn. Don’t think any more of it,” he told her, alarmed. Oh gods, is she going to cry? She is, isn’t she?
“No, I was defending you,” she said in a low voice. “And it doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for...for that. I could have hurt him without draining his anima. I could have killed him without...without feeding from him. Don’t you understand yet? What I did was evil. I’m-”
“Don’t say it,” he interrupted sharply. Unthinkingly his hand went to her mouth, his fingers tapping her lips for emphasis, and her gaze flew back to his, her eyes startled. “Dead is dead. And if taking his, ah, anima undoes some of the damage he did to you, then frankly, I think he only paid what he owed you. ”
“How can you say that? I’m a necromancer,” she whispered. Her lips moved against his fingers, so soft, but the way she said the word was such a perfect imitation of the way he’d spat it at her when they’d last spoken before Mariph that it cut him like one of the Raider’s knives.
“Gwyn, I was angry before,” he said uncomfortably. “To be perfectly honest, I have no particular sentiments about necromancers one way or the other. To my knowledge, I’ve never even met one before you. ”
“Then trust me when I tell you about us,” she murmured. Against his fingers, her words felt like kisses. I should move, he thought dimly. His hand didn’t seem to get the message, staying right where it was, and Gwyn ignored its position entirely, saying, “I’ve met plenty of them. Both my parents were necromancers, and so is my sister. Do you know the first thing my mother did when her magic manifested? She brought her pet rabbit back to life. My sister? She helped heal herself from some kind of lung ailment she was born with. Do you know what I did? I nearly murdered my sister’s suitor when he broke things off with her. One moment he was fine, the next he was choking on his own blood. My father had to heal him and then convince him that he’d only imagined it all in some kind of delirious fit. I’m exactly the reason why necromancers are killed when they’re discovered. I’m dangerous. ”
“Yes, me too. Maybe we should both be put down, but is it all right if we at least find some real Raiders to do the job? ”
He was surprised when she let out a sudden, throaty laugh that made his stubborn fingers tremble. “That woman back in the camp said the same thing about the Raiders not being real. I had no idea this was an actual theory going around. She called them deceivers. ”
Dominic’s hand fell away from her lips and came to rest at her elbow, foreboding washing away the sudden heat her lips had inspired in him, but caution not allowing him to lose contact with her entirely.
They were still on a tree branch a good distance above the ground, after all. Or so he told himself.
“Deceivers,” he repeated slowly. “What else did this woman say? ”
Gwyn studied his face, her eyes widening again at whatever she saw there. “I think her mind is gone,” she said finally. “The Raiders...or whatever they were...wanted me to heal her, but I couldn’t. There is great magic in her, but I couldn’t find anything wrong with her. She was saying things like she’s Orwyn and she’s dying because of her captivity because she needs to live the story. Then something about needing the High Lord’s help because he’s bound to his land the way she’s bound to Lyntara. I told her I’d never heard of that before, but she wouldn’t explain. Probably nothing to explain, of course. She’s obviously very ill. ”
Dominic went very still. He’d heard that story before. Carys, he thought. That dream she had when she passed out...Sebastien was so sure it was just a dream.
Carys, on the other hand, had believed it was a vision. She hadn’t said as much, of course, probably because of the stricken look that came over Sebastien’s face at any mention of what she’d seen.
But she had still told Dominic all about it before he’d left for Lyntara. Just in case it means something, she’d said.
“Dominic? ” Gwyn was biting her lip now, her brows drawn together in worry. “I told you, she’s very sick...”
He shook his head slowly. “I think she’s more than that. It may have been a mistake leaving her behind. But I don’t see how we can go back now. Did she say anything else? Anything at all? ” He tried to sound disinterested, not wanting to alarm her, but the urgency crept into his voice in spite of himself, and he had to force himself to pitch his voice loud enough for her to hear, falling back into his natural volume without meaning to.
Gwyn dropped her gaze, her face paling before his eyes. “Is it really important? She was just raving, really. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so seriously. ”
“It is to me. Please, just tell me. ”
Gwyn stared at some indefinite space between them for a long moment as though pondering it, then her eyes flickered up to his and he saw she was on the verge of tears. But she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, for all the world looking in that moment like she was preparing to strike the first blow in a battle she didn’t expect to end well. It sent a chill through him.
“She said a lot of things that made no sense,” she announced, so defiantly that he didn’t need to be told that she expected him to argue with her. “Things about us, if you can believe it. She seemed to know about...about the mate thing. She must have overheard the Raiders talking, though how they knew, I don’t know. She said you’re bound in blood to me, and if I accept you, I’ll be bound to you in return because of my magic. Some nonsense about missing pieces...she said you’re my heart. ” She looked like she was trying to smile, but it wasn’t working.
Ah, no wonder she’s upset. It doesn’t happen everyday that women calling themselves gods accuse one of being heartless, he thought, feeling an unexpected surge of sympathy. He patted her elbow and asked, “And what piece am I missing? ”
“She’s wrong. She was making things up. Who knows what she heard or guessed. ” Gwyn’s voice was as sharp as broken glass. She wavered where she stood, and he was sure she would be moving away from him if she had somewhere to go.
“Come now, it can’t be that bad,” he said. “It’s only fair that if you’re heartless, I get to be something bad, too. ”
Again, she surprised him. She stilled, her lips curving upward a little, and he felt her relax against his hand.
“She said I’m your humanity,” she murmured. “See how ridiculous this is? ”
Dominic froze, trying to keep his face composed, but he felt like he’d just been stabbed in the gut. A wave of nausea passed over him. All the times he’d been looked at and talked about as though he were just that: inhuman. All the things he’d done that he’d thought had been necessary at the time, but that only seemed to verify that he was, indeed, less than human, less than a person...the same sort of things that had been done to Gwyn, that even now marked her flesh.
He doubted that the woman Gwyn had spoken to and Carys had dreamed of was actually any sort of god, but it seemed clear that she knew things, saw things. The Raiders, false or otherwise, had no way of knowing about the true nature of his relationship with Gwyn. There was nothing that the third Raider at Gwyn’s cottage could have seen or overheard while he was there that could have revealed that much. The “lorekeeper” in Mariph hadn’t known, and she had been in direct contact with them.
But that woman knew. All the times he’d tried to dismiss the accusations, blatant and veiled, about his lack of humanity, and a strange woman in Lyntara he’d never met saw him as though he were stripped naked before her, and she could see down to his soul.
Then in a heartbeat, the turmoil in his mind was obliterated, and nothing existed except Gwyn. Her arms were around his neck before he was aware she had even moved, her body pressed against his, her mouth crashing onto his. Heat surged through him and his hands were on her before he knew what he was doing. He was immersed in her scent, drunk on it, giddy with her warmth, the softness of her skin, the feel of her contours beneath his palms. He felt fear flickering inside of him, but it was a distant thing, a faraway scream coming from a dark place that, in that moment, he could barely recall. He moaned against her mouth, desperate to get even closer to her, their clothing between them a particularly exquisite form of torture he never could have imagined before.
He wasn’t sure how he did it, exactly, but somehow he had her pinned against the tree trunk in the moments that followed, was fumbling with her skirt. His mouth went to her neck, and he felt delirious with the ecstasy of that perfect, graceful curve. He bit down without thinking, all control lost, and her resulting cry of pain jolted him, piercing through his sudden delirium like an arrow. He went still against her, for the first time tasting her blood on his lips—he’d broken the skin—and his shock and remorse dulled his hunger for her enough for him to pull away. He could not bring himself to put too much space between them—his hands remained on either side of her, flattened against the tree trunk—but their bodies no longer touched. The distance wasn’t enough, but it was also too much, and he heard himself saying over and over again, “Gwyn, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...”
His eyes fell on her neck, on the bite mark seeping blood, and his face went hot with shame, his stomach roiling. He wanted to look at anything but her, but she was right in front of him, and his eyes went to hers despite every fiber of his being imploring them not to.
But there was no anger or accusation on her face. She was flushed, her pupils dilated, her moist lips parted as she breathed shallowly through her mouth, and he almost could have thought, could have sworn, that it was desire he saw in her eyes.
Desire for him.
He was suddenly aware that her hands were on him, were still on him, clutching his hips, and they slid up now to cup his face, his body burning in their wake. “It’s all right, Dominic...I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have...I just couldn’t...I couldn’t stand seeing you like that, and I kept saying your name and you wouldn’t answer...it’s like you weren’t even there...”
“You could have hit me,” he said hoarsely. “You could have hit me, or stepped on my foot, or hell, poked me in the eye. ”
She blinked. “I didn’t think of that. ”
“What if I hadn’t stopped, Gwyn? What then? You need to think before you act. It might be easy for you to...to do that and then just stop...but gods, you have no idea...” He was at a loss, anger and frustration robbing him of speech. “I hurt you. I could have hurt you worse. I could have kept hurting you. Do you understand? ”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You scared me. ”
“I didn’t want to, but you had to know what kind of reaction you were going to get, trying something like that! ” he exploded, as close to yelling as he ever got. It was too late for panic, but somehow his panic didn’t seem aware of that.
What did I do...what did I almost do...
“Not...not that. Before I did it. ” Gwyn’s eyes pleaded with him. “When you wouldn’t talk. You were a thousand miles away, Dominic, even though your body was right here, and wherever you were, it wasn’t a good place. I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear seeing you that way, and over that...that madwoman! ”
“I don’t think she’s mad. I don’t know what she is, but it’s not that. ” He finally managed to pull back his hands, took a cautious step backward. “Surely seeing me in any state would be preferable to what was going to happen to you. I don’t think you fully understand our situation, Gwyn. ”
“Why not? Do you think I’m stupid? ” The redness in her cheeks deepened. “Honestly, Dominic, you act like I’m supposed to be running for the hills in terror at the prospect of an attractive man bedding me. Sorry to disappoint you, but if I thought for a moment you really wanted me, I wouldn’t be fighting this at all. ”
Dominic couldn’t have been more stunned if Sebastien had descended from a nearby tree at that very moment in a purple ballgown. “Wh-what? ” he sputtered. “I bit you. ”
“Miraculously, I think I’ll find a way to survive. ” Gwyn rolled her eyes, and he felt himself flush.
“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” he said stubbornly. “You’re imagining something wonderful and romantic, because that’s what women do. But you saw me, and you heard what that woman said...I’m an animal, not human. Don’t you think you’re worth more than that? Deserve more than that...more than rutting with some inhuman thing in a bloody tree? ”
“I don’t see you like that, Dominic, and I think you’re failing to consider that if I’m your humanity, then we’re supposed to be together. You can’t just accept one part of what she said and then conveniently forget the other,” Gwyn informed him tartly, crossing her arms.
“Are you honestly trying to talk me into bedding you right now? ” he asked, incredulous. “We’re being pursued by Raiders...we’re in a tree...you barely know me...”
“No, I’m not. ” Gwyn sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. Suddenly she looked as wan and exhausted as she had back in the cottage. “Because you don’t really want to be with me, and I don’t want to force myself on you. Whatever else I’ve done, I wouldn’t sink that low. I just...I don’t want you to go away again. You’re so insistent that you’re not human, that this woman you’ve never even met must be right about you, but here you are trying to argue for my dignity. Because so many animals and monsters do that rather than breed with their mates. I can’t believe you can’t see how ridiculous you’re being. I’m not asking you to change your mind about me, I’m not trying to talk you into anything, I just hate seeing you like this, hearing you talk about yourself like this. It isn’t right. Maybe I don’t know you either, but whatever you say, what you’ve done speaks louder. ”
“What I’ve done? ” Dominic echoed, disbelieving. “You have no idea what I’ve done. ”
“Then tell me,” she said simply.
As if it were that simple, he thought miserably.
“Fine. If it will dispel this idea you have that I’m...better than what I really am. If it will make you more careful around me. I’ve fought and killed men. Many men. I’ve hurt people...the way you were hurt by those Raiders. Over and over again. How much more do you need to know? Does any of this say human to you? ”
His voice came out guttural, sharp, but he couldn’t control it. He needed her to understand what he was. The thought that she might come to him willingly was too much; he didn’t know how much longer he could restrain himself knowing that she would just let him...no, he couldn’t think about it.
She doesn’t understand, she can’t. She would never accept me if she knew me. Never.
“Dominic, humans do those things everyday. Consider these Raiders, for example. The things I’ve heard would probably make even you blush. ” She shook her head. “Your argument doesn’t hold water. Sorry. Why do you put so much stock in what a stranger said, anyway? ”
Dominic took a deep breath. “I’ve heard of this woman before. An...acquaintance of mine...saw her in a vision. She said the same things, about being Orwyn, about needing to live the story. She asked for help then, too, though she didn’t mention the High Lord. My acquaintance thought she might be an avatar. ”
Gwyn’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve heard that idea before, but I’ve never really believed in it. ”
“Neither did she. My acquaintance, I mean. But the vision shook her. ”
“And she really said the same things I just told you? ”
“Well, yes. Not about...us...but the other things about needing to live the story, about false Raiders holding her. ” Dominic frowned. “My acquaintance didn’t tell me what the story was. She only said it was about the life of Orwyn when he was believed to walk in the world. Can you tell me? ”
Gwyn blinked rapidly, obviously startled. “There’s no Lyntaran born who doesn’t know the story, Dominic. ”
He didn’t say anything to that, just watched her, his heart racing as he waited for the implications to catch up to her.
And catch up they did. Her hand went to her chest. “That’s why they attacked you before. That’s why you’re an enemy of the Emperor. You’re not Lyntaran. ” The words were flat, toneless, and he couldn’t read the look in her eyes.
He immediately regretted letting it slip, though he wasn’t sure how much longer he could have kept it from her anyway. “Yes. ”
“Is that why you want to go to the Union? ” she wanted to know. “You’re...going home? ”
He was tempted to agree, but if he could have done it to her before, when he hadn’t known about her...willingness...he certainly couldn’t now. It was impossible.
“No. It’s not home. Wrong border. ”
It was all he could bring himself to say.
“Kelemir,” she said woodenly.
He gave a single, terse nod.
“My lord, Dominic. You’re a spy? ”
“That was the plan, but under the circumstances, I’m just trying to get to the Union before it’s too late. We need help. If Lyntara falls apart, so will my lord’s Province. We’re right next door, so to speak. There’s no way of avoiding it. ” He couldn’t have explained it to anyone, not even himself, but he was desperate for her to understand. “It’s already spilled over the border to us. ”
And that’s when he told her about the settlement of fake Raiders, the attacks of magefire in the Southern Province at their hands, about Carys and what she had seen. It came tumbling out in a tactless rush, but he didn’t so much as pause to draw a full breath until it was all out.
When he’d finished, he watched her, his heart in his throat. If she refused to help him now, it was over. He needed her cooperation in more ways than one, even if “one” was certainly more insistent than the other.
She stared off into space for a few minutes, clearly deep in thought. Then finally she looked him in the eyes again and said, “I suppose I’d better tell you the story, then. ”
––––––––
The goddess of life and the god of death were rivals from the beginning, if indeed the universe could be said to have one. They needed each other, but they also hated each other, unable to accept that each was the inevitable consequence of the other. As with wheat, from death came life and from life came death, and there was no having one without the other. The goddess despised the undoing of her greatest plans, and the god couldn’t bear seeing his own designs thwarted time and again when new beginnings sprang from his carefully devised endings. They were locked in a battle that was impossible for either to win, yet the futility of it only seemed to spur them on.
Yet their rivalry was fueled by passion, and in the heat of one particularly intense argument over the nature of their respective, yet intertwined, labors, more than their labors became intertwined. From this union came the only fruit they could both bear: pain. In pain life is brought forth, and in pain life passes into death. And so Orwyn was made.
Being born of the goddess, Orwyn was also born in flesh; what lives must be mortal, part of the essential conflict between life and death. She bore him in the world, as creatures of flesh can’t survive beyond the gate that divides the mortal realm from the immortal one, but there she could not stay. A world of flesh is a dying world, and it was poison to her spirit.
The babe was quickly found, however, by a tribe of nomads who adopted him as one of their own. As he grew, they taught him their ways. The nomads worshiped both the goddess of life and the god of death, and up until then, refused to choose between them, seeing in them both the vital essence of existence. But as Orwyn grew strong and his power became evident, they realized he must be a god, and one whose might transcended both of his parents. He could take the pain from others, and when he did he treasured it, weeping tears of pure joy; but he could also cause it, and this, too, brought him to ecstasy.
They were honored to have a god in their midst and became devoted to him, offering him their own bodies to either inflict pain on or relieve of pain, whenever he saw fit.
But for Orwyn, it was not enough. He knew of his parents’ eternal struggle from the nomads, but he could not understand it. He wished to walk the world and see for himself how life came from death, how death came from life. He wished to decide for himself who was greater, the goddess or the god, and he would go to whoever it was when his mortal life was complete.
So much to their sorrow, Orwyn left the nomads to wander the world on his own. Wherever he walked, he brought pain and he took pain in equal measure, never discriminating between the two. As he moved among the people, he came to see the true futility of his parents’ discord, and he began to weep as he walked, watering the world beneath his feet. Wherever his tears fell grew thorns, to both protect life and nourish death, to bring pain and to preserve the life sheltered by them.
But the god of death soon heard of what had happened, that a child had been born from his moment of heedless passion with the goddess, and he was intensely jealous of the child who even now drew worshipers away from him and who continued in the love of the goddess that he, the god of pain, could not keep. He decided his offspring was an abomination that needed to be ended, and he took it upon himself to be that end, believing that the goddess, with her affinity for her own domain, had been too weak to do what needed to be done.
So he went down into the world to end his son’s mortal life, but Orwyn sensed he was coming and built himself a castle of thorns to shield himself from his father. There he hid while the god of death railed outside of it, for the gods must take flesh to walk in the world, and the god of death could not enter without being pierced through.
The god of death howled to the skies in his anger, and lightning came down to burn the thorns, but Orwyn escaped the fire and fled into the mountains. The burns left him in great pain, but the pain only added to his divine power, even as his mortal body was weakened by them. But as long as he wore mortal flesh, he still needed food and rest, and he collapsed for want of both those things, only to be found by a daughter of the mountain-dwellers. She took him back to her cave, tended his wounds and fed him when he woke.
Orwyn knew he should keep running, that his father would pursue him down to the deepest bowels of the world, but he was captivated by the mountain woman. She suffered greatly from injuries she’d suffered in a rockfall, and none of her own would accept her, but her pain was pleasing to him, and she soon became his lover.
But in the throes of passion, Orwyn’s control over his gifts slipped, and he killed her without meaning to, filling her with so much pain that she could not survive it. When he realized what he’d done, he suffered the greatest pain of his life, and for once, it was a pain that brought him no joy. In grief, he left the mountains, unable to speak and uncaring of what the god of death might do to him.
As soon as he’d gone, the god of death did catch up to him, but seeing the suffering his son was undergoing, he decided the greater punishment would be to leave him as he was to suffer. To end his life would only be a mercy that the god of death felt an abomination did not deserve.
So Orwyn spent the rest of his mortal years walking the world in an endless lament for his lost love. Everywhere he walked thorns grew from his tears, and when at last the end of his life came, the god of death came back down in flesh to claim him personally.
But Orwyn’s grief had had time to come to fruition, and when he saw his father coming for him, he unleashed on him all the pain he’d been suffering himself for those many years. The god of death lost his mortal body, forever consigning him to dwell only in the immortal realm, and there Orwyn joined him as his own body failed, now forever immortal.
But unlike the god of death, Orwyn came from both death and life. His mother had grieved those years of her son’s mortal life, seeing his suffering, and when he had passed into the immortal realm, she offered him a boon: at any time of his choosing, she would create for him a new mortal body and give him the chance to live his life again, in hopes that he would find peace with the mortal world.
The legends say Orwyn takes flesh time and again, and time and again, he lives out his story. The thorns that grow in the wake of his tears are the wars that tear peoples and countries apart, and there is only peace while he dwells in the immortal realm. Until the god of pain is at peace in both realms, there can be no lasting peace in ours.
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Gwyn could feel Dominic’s eyes on her even when she stopped speaking. She was looking down at her own hands by that time, feeling unaccountably cold despite the heat already thickening the morning air. Telling him the story of Orwyn had been a good way to get her mind off what had just happened between them along with her burgeoning fear that when he calmed down enough, he’d be furious with her for what she had done, but now that she’d told him all she knew about the story, she found herself in the same place she’d started from: upset and confused.
She was upset with herself for what she had done. Kissing him had been an impulsive act, fueled by a kind of terror at the emptiness that had come into his eyes when he heard the madwoman’s words. Something inside her recognized that hollowness and ached at it, longed to purge it from him with a ferocity that had overridden her common sense.
All she could think now was that it had been selfish; she’d surely made an already difficult situation even more so for him, and that hadn’t been her intention at all. Guilt weighed on her. She knew only his body wanted her, and at some point, that knowledge had begun to be painful. He seemed all too willing to simply dismiss out-of-hand what she was, what her magic was, and she was sure he must be misunderstanding the situation somehow, seeing something in her that wasn’t really there.
But aren’t I being just as dismissive about him? Didn’t he just admit to killing people...to hurting people? she mused. And yet some part of her had known all along what he was. Hearing him admit it from his own lips had come as no surprise. It wasn’t that the things he had done didn’t matter. It was that she felt that she, of all people, could not judge...not after her own sins.
That he wasn’t Lyntaran had surprised her, though. Now that she reflected on it, there were various little things that should have given him away, but such details as the way he talked could have been easily brushed aside as quirks stemming from his strange biology and the life he could have led because of it...and that’s exactly what she’d done.
She was vaguely aware that she should probably be more concerned about the woman in the camp and the connection between her and whoever this acquaintance of Dominic’s was, but the whole subject seemed so outlandish that she wasn’t even sure where to start with it.
Suddenly he was close to her again, and unexpectedly, he was touching her arms, his thumbs tracing paths between the already-healing cuts in her skin.
“You need to rest,” he murmured, so low that she barely caught the words. “You’re so pale. ”
Something about the gentleness of his touch, the concern in his voice, broke something in her. Her eyes stung with sudden tears. “I’m so sorry, Dominic, I wasn’t trying to make this harder for you, I swear. I didn’t think. ”
And that’s the story of my life, she added silently. I didn’t think. I never do. You have no idea.
“I just told you I’m a killer from another country and that someone I know had a vision about the same person who is claiming to be Orwyn, the same person who just told you things she couldn’t possibly have known about, and you’re still worrying about what’s hard for me,” he said, his voice very soft, his thumbs not pausing in their journey up her arms. They were about midway to her shoulders now, and everywhere they touched tingled oddly like she’d been stung. “Gwyn, are you aware that you were tortured? That’s what happened to you on that table. That’s why they cut you like this. It wasn’t to bleed you or to weaken you. It was to cause you as much pain as possible so you would do whatever they wanted, tell them whatever they wanted to know, just to make it stop. ”
She looked up at last, meeting those dark eyes, so intent on her face.
“That makes sense,” she said, but by the way he frowned, she could tell that his words hadn’t made the impression on her that he’d hoped they would.
“You need to rest,” he said again. “You’re not thinking clearly. ”
“Is that why you’re not angrier with me? Because of what happened to me? ” His hands were at her shoulders now, and a shiver ran through her. “Y-you think that’s why I kissed you? ”
“I think even you probably don’t know why you did what you did, not really. It’s all right, Gwyn. I’m not angry. Frustrated, yes, but not angry. ” His fingers finally came to rest on top of her shoulders, nudging her downward. “Just sit against the trunk here. I won’t let you fall. ”
“But I will fall. I can’t sleep in a tree branch. ” On this point, Gwyn simply could not, would not, yield. I will fall and crack my head open the minute my eyes close, so help me, she thought, angling a wary glance at the ground. It was intimidatingly distant.
“Resting on the ground is not an option,” Dominic said with all the finality of a magistrate passing sentence. “I’m tired too. I don’t know that I can stay awake for long. They could come across us in a moment and it would all be over. At least up here, we have a chance to get away if they find us. Here, I’ll sit down first, and you sit in front of me. I’ll hold you up. ”
Before she could voice the protests already bubbling up inside her about what a terrible idea that was, he had already somehow managed to nudge her away from the tree trunk and had taken her place against it, sitting with his back to it and his legs stretched out on either side of her.
He motioned to her with his hands, but she raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think me sleeping in your lap is begging for trouble? ”
“We’re short on options. I’ll have to deal. If I can’t, push me off the branch. It shouldn’t be difficult if it comes down to that. ” There was a trace of something that could have been humor in his voice, but she wasn’t sure. His face was entirely serious.
Very carefully, Gwyn lowered herself down until she was sitting between his legs, her entire body tense with apprehension. The moment she was seated, his arm went around her, pulling her up to rest against his chest in a single movement that left her feeling dizzy, giving her little choice but to lean against him for fear of falling over.
“I have you, don’t worry,” he said against her hair. But his arm stayed firmly around her, just under her breasts.
She stayed tense for several minutes, afraid to move and every moment anticipating disaster, but she couldn’t maintain that kind of tension for long. There was something comforting about his arm around her, about the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, and she found herself relaxing almost against her will, her nerves and the exhaustion of the past several hours slamming into her with the force of a storm. She put a hand on his arm as her eyelids sagged of their own volition, reassuring herself that he was there. She felt hot, but not nearly as much as she would have feared being in such close proximity-
Her eyes flew open again. “Dominic, I think your fever must have broken. You don’t feel as hot as you did before. ”
He mumbled something incoherent.
“The...the woman...she said Lyntara is getting hotter because of her fever. Because of whatever binds them together. That Lyntara will perish if she does. ”
He was quiet for a long moment, and Gwyn thought he must already have fallen asleep.
But then he asked, “The story doesn’t mention anything about Orwyn being bound to any particular place, does it? ”
“No. It doesn’t mention any kind of binding like that. Traditionally, we’re taught that he was born in Lyntara, though. ” Again Gwyn’s eyelids drooped. “Dominic, what do you suppose she is? ”
“You said before you sensed magic in her. Is it strong enough that she could use it to communicate with someone as far away as the Southern Province? ”
“I don’t know how that kind of magic works,” Gwyn admitted. “But she did have very strong magic of some kind, so if such a thing is possible, I wouldn’t put it past her. ”
“I heard that it’s unseasonably hot this year. ”
“It is. ” Gwyn couldn’t contain her yawn.
“It might not be related, of course. ” Dominic sounded thoughtful. “But what if she’s right? What if she is bound to Lyntara, and the High Lord is bound to his domain? Whether she’s an avatar of Orwyn or not, her death might cause disaster for both Lyntara and everyone near her. ”
“Do you think we should go back for her then? ”
Dominic hesitated. “It would be dangerous. We could easily be caught again. I’m sure she’s heavily guarded. ”
“You got me out,” Gwyn reminded him.
“Let’s rest and then talk about it. I need to think, and I can’t think now. ”
Gwyn felt a fresh pang of remorse. “I can go to a different branch...maybe if we had some rope, you could tie me to it. ”
“I’m not letting you go. ” It came out almost as a growl, rumbling deep in his chest, and it sent a different kind of shiver through her.
She let her eyes close. Just before she drifted off, she heard him ask near her ear, “Do you really find me attractive? ”
She was asleep before she could answer.
When next she woke, darkness was falling again, but the air showed no signs of cooling. Her dress stuck to her body uncomfortably, and despite the sweat dampening it, Dominic’s arm hadn’t moved an inch. His breathing was slow and deep, and she thought he was probably still sleeping.
She strained to hear, but to her surprise, she heard nothing. No buzzing insects, no chattering birds. All had gone wholly silent except for the nearby rustling of leaves, no doubt stirred by an all-too-rare breeze.
Only that breeze never found its way to her. As she looked around, disconcerted by the stillness of the leaves in contrast to what she was hearing, a pair of oddly glinting dark eyes flashed from nearby, peering down at her through the leaves of a higher branch on the same tree.
She went rigid, poking quickly at Dominic’s restraining arm. She felt him jerk a little at the contact.
“Dominic,” she whispered urgently. “There’s something in that branch! ”
Dominic’s leg drew up next to her as he pulled his knife in a fluid motion, but the eyes she had seen had already vanished, only to reappear a moment later in a blur of speed at the end of the same branch she and Dominic were on.
It was unmistakably a male elf. He cocked his head as he studied them, his eyes, like liquid pools of deepest green, still glinting strangely in the waning sunlight.
A spear twirled gracefully in one long-fingered hand, and he thrust its point towards them, in the exact direction of Gwyn’s heart.
