*Woken: Book Three in the Journey to Ýsryiia Series*
A sneak peek:
Táarcwyn—part-time wýrtaac and Áarthryiiel of mystery—leaned against the strange wooden table that was set up in a place everyone in these parts apparently called “Central Park”. A place he imagined Katie had visited numerous times in her life, before coming to his world. The thought made him feel even more on edge.
After a long moment of silence, he decided to try his question again. Perhaps if he just rephrased slightly…
“Láara, how did you know to come here?”
The old woman across from him kept her gaze on two bizarre, winged creatures fighting over crumbs just a little ways off. The silence remained.
Táarcwyn sighed, resigning himself to the fact that she was not going to answer him, no matter how he phrased it. He really wasn’t all that surprised; after all, Láara only divulged what Láara wanted to divulge, and there was no getting around it. She was impossibly intuitive, as had been Iizáara, her mother—the one who had managed to track down Greg all those years ago in order to give him the medallion. But she was also impossibly stubborn. Not to mention, she was simply an Áarthryiiel of very few words.
Suddenly, she turned her cloudy eyes to him, though her expression remained indecipherable. “Some things…are simply known.”
Táarcwyn shook his head, trying to fight off his extreme irritation her 'answer'. Dealing with Láara was typically like this, though perhaps not usually quite as cryptic as this particular time. “Right, of course. I should have guessed it would be that…simple.”
Her mouth quirked up ever so slightly. “You are annoyed with me.”
His eyes widened for a moment and then he laughed. “You know me so well.” Then his smile faded, though his face held its good nature. “I am incredibly happy to see you, though. Even if you do exasperate me at times.”
Now she actually smiled and nodded once as if to indicate her pleasure at that fact.
“I was worried, you know,” he added. “No one knew what had become of you and… I realize that you are quite capable of taking care of yourself, but, still. I was worried.”
She looked troubled and her white eyebrows drew together slightly. “How did you know to find me here?”
“Oh, what is this? The great and all-knowing Láara has a question for little ol' me?” he teased, grinning. When she didn’t respond—not that he had really thought she would—he sighed and took to pacing as he tried to gather his thoughts, instantly feeling nervous. “Truthfully? I do not believe you will be very happy to hear the answer.”
He shot another glance at her, but her expression gave nothing away.
“I…may have ventured into an Gráamyntyr…” he continued. The Grasslands, where all criminal Larýthyiiel were sent for banishment—never a good topic of conversation, and this was most likely no exception.
Láara’s face remained like stone, though her eyes sharpened considerably, and he knew she was not liking where this was headed.
“Obviously, I had my reasons for going, and after many inquiries, I eventually found out that the one I sought was indeed still alive and, relatively, well. I… I’m sure you do not need me to tell you who it was I was searching for?”
She moved her head as an indicator that he did not need to say it.
“You must understand that I was desperate,” he explained, rather self-consciously, “or I never would have asked for her help. But she was the only one, aside from you, who possessed the knowledge and skill for finding the location of anyone, no matter how far away. And since you were not exactly in a position to help me…”
He paused and waited for her to respond. Eventually, she did, though her question wasn’t exactly what he had expected.
“Did she learn who you are?”
He scoffed and waved her off. “Of course not! I gave her a false name and said that I was a distant relative of yours. There would be no way for her to guess what I am. How would she? And, just to be sure, I did not transform anywhere near her location.” Táarcwyn, of all people, knew just how catastrophic that knowledge could be in her hands.
Láara appeared skeptical. “Then why would she agree to help you? We both know that she was never one to do things simply out of the kindness of her heart. Gods know, she might not even have one. She must have decided there was something to gain.”
“I would never free her, if that is what you are implying. I would never do that to anyone, but especially not Sýghwynn—or Cáswynn, for that matter.” She had the potential to be a threat to any Larýthyiiel, but would be absolutely devastating to them, after what she had done to their family—to her family, so many years ago.
The old woman nodded once. “I would assume not, given that you were present for all of the…unpleasantness… she caused.”
He shook his head, trying to forget that awful night so many years back; the night Sýghwynn had lost a son and Cáswynn a brother, all because his wife had broken his trust and instead given her loyalty to Iidáarzaan.
“You still have not answered my question of why she would agree to help you.”
Táarcwyn shrugged lightly and ventured a smile. “I have my ways. Surely you know by now that I can be quite charming when I have to be.” He let his smile fall. “Besides, if there is one thing that never changes with those who are hungry for power, it is that they will never pass up a chance to get it, even if it is just for a moment or two. The very idea of her being able to use her dáiimwn just one more time had her positively salivating. And do not worry,” he added, catching the disapproving glare Láara sent his way, “I made sure I took every precaution so that there would be no way for her to escape. Once we were able to locate you, I Transitioned her right back to her place of exile, and I went with her, just to be sure.”
His hand drifted unintentionally to the pocket of his trousers.
“And yet, something of hers made it out of exile with you?” Láara said, and he knew her keen eyes—cloudy with age as they may appear—never missed a thing.
He nodded and swallowed the small lump of guilt that had suddenly formed in his throat. “She, ah, asked that I give it to Cáswynn for her. It seems that banishment might have instilled at least a small amount of sentiment in her after all. Who knew she might actually be capable of caring about anything but herself?”
Whether or not he would ever actually give the letter to Cáswynn, he still wasn’t sure. It was far more likely to do much more harm than good. The poor boy had not only been forced to grow up without his older brother, but had been privy to the knowledge that it was his own mother who had led to his sibling’s demise. And then, of course, he had lost her too. Sýghwynn had not told him the truth, and as far as he knew, his mother had been so overwhelmed with grief at what she had done, that she had taken her own life. Only a select few knew otherwise, that she had been far from remorseful, and banished for the remainder of her life. Who knew what it would do to the boy to find out the truth? Besides, though Táarcwyn had not felt it his business to read the letter she had sent with him, he was fairly certain there were no amount of words in any world that could ever hope to make amends for what she had done.
Láara tossed a handful of something to the strange feathered creatures, and Táarcwyn realized she had been the source of their earlier meal. They both watched as the animals fluttered over and began pecking frantically at the crumbs. Táarcwyn wasn’t sure how she knew what they ate, but assumed she had observed the humans doing this during her stay in their world.
“This place intrigues me,” she said at last, and it was clear that the topic of him finding her was—thankfully—closed. At least, for now.
He glanced around at the trees--which were far closer, in his mind, to twigs than anything he was accustomed to--and studied the giant buildings that stood off in the distance, which were made of glass and metal in place of organic material. “I have to admit, I agree.” This was certainly a strange world. Eventually, he cleared his throat.
“So. That brings us to now. We are both here and we both know the truth. What do we do now?”
“Do?” Láara almost sounded amused. “We do nothing.”
He tilted his head and stared at her in confusion. “Then why did you come at all?”
“Do you not think that I have my reasons?” By the set of her mouth, Táarcwyn knew she would say no more on the subject. Once more, he tried his best to put both his curiosity and frustration aside.
“And the girl--Katie? She doesn’t have any idea?”
Láara shook her head and rose slowly. She sighed and motioned for him to follow her back down the pathway from which they had come earlier. “It is best that way.”
After a long moment of silence, he decided to try his question again. Perhaps if he just rephrased slightly…
“Láara, how did you know to come here?”
The old woman across from him kept her gaze on two bizarre, winged creatures fighting over crumbs just a little ways off. The silence remained.
Táarcwyn sighed, resigning himself to the fact that she was not going to answer him, no matter how he phrased it. He really wasn’t all that surprised; after all, Láara only divulged what Láara wanted to divulge, and there was no getting around it. She was impossibly intuitive, as had been Iizáara, her mother—the one who had managed to track down Greg all those years ago in order to give him the medallion. But she was also impossibly stubborn. Not to mention, she was simply an Áarthryiiel of very few words.
Suddenly, she turned her cloudy eyes to him, though her expression remained indecipherable. “Some things…are simply known.”
Táarcwyn shook his head, trying to fight off his extreme irritation her 'answer'. Dealing with Láara was typically like this, though perhaps not usually quite as cryptic as this particular time. “Right, of course. I should have guessed it would be that…simple.”
Her mouth quirked up ever so slightly. “You are annoyed with me.”
His eyes widened for a moment and then he laughed. “You know me so well.” Then his smile faded, though his face held its good nature. “I am incredibly happy to see you, though. Even if you do exasperate me at times.”
Now she actually smiled and nodded once as if to indicate her pleasure at that fact.
“I was worried, you know,” he added. “No one knew what had become of you and… I realize that you are quite capable of taking care of yourself, but, still. I was worried.”
She looked troubled and her white eyebrows drew together slightly. “How did you know to find me here?”
“Oh, what is this? The great and all-knowing Láara has a question for little ol' me?” he teased, grinning. When she didn’t respond—not that he had really thought she would—he sighed and took to pacing as he tried to gather his thoughts, instantly feeling nervous. “Truthfully? I do not believe you will be very happy to hear the answer.”
He shot another glance at her, but her expression gave nothing away.
“I…may have ventured into an Gráamyntyr…” he continued. The Grasslands, where all criminal Larýthyiiel were sent for banishment—never a good topic of conversation, and this was most likely no exception.
Láara’s face remained like stone, though her eyes sharpened considerably, and he knew she was not liking where this was headed.
“Obviously, I had my reasons for going, and after many inquiries, I eventually found out that the one I sought was indeed still alive and, relatively, well. I… I’m sure you do not need me to tell you who it was I was searching for?”
She moved her head as an indicator that he did not need to say it.
“You must understand that I was desperate,” he explained, rather self-consciously, “or I never would have asked for her help. But she was the only one, aside from you, who possessed the knowledge and skill for finding the location of anyone, no matter how far away. And since you were not exactly in a position to help me…”
He paused and waited for her to respond. Eventually, she did, though her question wasn’t exactly what he had expected.
“Did she learn who you are?”
He scoffed and waved her off. “Of course not! I gave her a false name and said that I was a distant relative of yours. There would be no way for her to guess what I am. How would she? And, just to be sure, I did not transform anywhere near her location.” Táarcwyn, of all people, knew just how catastrophic that knowledge could be in her hands.
Láara appeared skeptical. “Then why would she agree to help you? We both know that she was never one to do things simply out of the kindness of her heart. Gods know, she might not even have one. She must have decided there was something to gain.”
“I would never free her, if that is what you are implying. I would never do that to anyone, but especially not Sýghwynn—or Cáswynn, for that matter.” She had the potential to be a threat to any Larýthyiiel, but would be absolutely devastating to them, after what she had done to their family—to her family, so many years ago.
The old woman nodded once. “I would assume not, given that you were present for all of the…unpleasantness… she caused.”
He shook his head, trying to forget that awful night so many years back; the night Sýghwynn had lost a son and Cáswynn a brother, all because his wife had broken his trust and instead given her loyalty to Iidáarzaan.
“You still have not answered my question of why she would agree to help you.”
Táarcwyn shrugged lightly and ventured a smile. “I have my ways. Surely you know by now that I can be quite charming when I have to be.” He let his smile fall. “Besides, if there is one thing that never changes with those who are hungry for power, it is that they will never pass up a chance to get it, even if it is just for a moment or two. The very idea of her being able to use her dáiimwn just one more time had her positively salivating. And do not worry,” he added, catching the disapproving glare Láara sent his way, “I made sure I took every precaution so that there would be no way for her to escape. Once we were able to locate you, I Transitioned her right back to her place of exile, and I went with her, just to be sure.”
His hand drifted unintentionally to the pocket of his trousers.
“And yet, something of hers made it out of exile with you?” Láara said, and he knew her keen eyes—cloudy with age as they may appear—never missed a thing.
He nodded and swallowed the small lump of guilt that had suddenly formed in his throat. “She, ah, asked that I give it to Cáswynn for her. It seems that banishment might have instilled at least a small amount of sentiment in her after all. Who knew she might actually be capable of caring about anything but herself?”
Whether or not he would ever actually give the letter to Cáswynn, he still wasn’t sure. It was far more likely to do much more harm than good. The poor boy had not only been forced to grow up without his older brother, but had been privy to the knowledge that it was his own mother who had led to his sibling’s demise. And then, of course, he had lost her too. Sýghwynn had not told him the truth, and as far as he knew, his mother had been so overwhelmed with grief at what she had done, that she had taken her own life. Only a select few knew otherwise, that she had been far from remorseful, and banished for the remainder of her life. Who knew what it would do to the boy to find out the truth? Besides, though Táarcwyn had not felt it his business to read the letter she had sent with him, he was fairly certain there were no amount of words in any world that could ever hope to make amends for what she had done.
Láara tossed a handful of something to the strange feathered creatures, and Táarcwyn realized she had been the source of their earlier meal. They both watched as the animals fluttered over and began pecking frantically at the crumbs. Táarcwyn wasn’t sure how she knew what they ate, but assumed she had observed the humans doing this during her stay in their world.
“This place intrigues me,” she said at last, and it was clear that the topic of him finding her was—thankfully—closed. At least, for now.
He glanced around at the trees--which were far closer, in his mind, to twigs than anything he was accustomed to--and studied the giant buildings that stood off in the distance, which were made of glass and metal in place of organic material. “I have to admit, I agree.” This was certainly a strange world. Eventually, he cleared his throat.
“So. That brings us to now. We are both here and we both know the truth. What do we do now?”
“Do?” Láara almost sounded amused. “We do nothing.”
He tilted his head and stared at her in confusion. “Then why did you come at all?”
“Do you not think that I have my reasons?” By the set of her mouth, Táarcwyn knew she would say no more on the subject. Once more, he tried his best to put both his curiosity and frustration aside.
“And the girl--Katie? She doesn’t have any idea?”
Láara shook her head and rose slowly. She sighed and motioned for him to follow her back down the pathway from which they had come earlier. “It is best that way.”