“Salaman Goth, m’lord?” Tyrane asked.
“Aye, the name of the dark wizard who attacked us, and so nearly defeated us.”
Gawain walked with the Captain to the tents by the wells, drew fresh water from a bucket and under the watchful eyes of the sergeant at arms and a burly guardsman, sat on a low bench and leaned back against the wall of the well, and told Tyrane of their encounter with Salaman Goth of Goria. The Callodonian guards listened intently, eyes wide, sighing audibly when Gawain described Elayeen thundering in on her horse, and how her shot had taken Salaman Goth, clean through.
Some strange intuition prevented Gawain from speaking of the circle though, and the events which occurred within it. Instead, he simply implied that the injuries Elayeen and Allazar had sustained were got in the battle with the dark wizard and his Graken. Nor was he questioned, of course. One thing was clear to Gawain as he finished his tale, the warmth of the morning sun and his lack of sleep making him drowsy: If the men of the Callodon guard had loved Elayeen for her headlong charge up the Pass, they loved her more on hearing of her rescue of the King of Raheen and his wizard.
He remembered it too, his eyes closing, seeing her again, her magnificent charge at full gallop through the ghosts of the north gate, feeling the love of her and the pride in her spreading through his chest anew.
When he awoke, stiff-necked from sleeping sat on the bench with his head on the edge of the well, it was mid-afternoon. Someone, probably Tyrane, had draped a loose cloth over him like a cloak, a sure sign to all of a sleeping man so he wouldn’t be disturbed. The cloth, it turned out, was a Callodon flag.
Gawain glanced about the outpost, and spied Tyrane standing on the decking in the shade outside the inn, and he nodded when he caught his eye, folding the flag respectfully and leaving it on the bench by the well.
“You let me sleep a long while, Captain.” Gawain asserted quietly, joining the captain on the boardwalk.
“You were tired, my lord. And no surprises there. Last I heard from Healer Turlock about an hour ago was that your lady was awake, but there was no change in her condition. The wizard still sleeps soundly.”
“Thank you. Has my lady eaten, do you know? Perhaps I should take her something.”
“Alas, my lord, I know not. I would imagine such details would not be overlooked by the healer though.”
“Ah.” Gawain agreed, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. “I think I shall visit her, I don’t believe I’m prohibited from doing so?”
“I sincerely doubt it, my lord.”
“Ah. Well then… ‘til later.”
“Aye, my lord. All’s quiet.”
Gawain found it cool inside the inn, helped himself to a mug of ale, and then filled another to take in to Elayeen. In truth she didn’t much like the stuff but if nothing else it gave him a pretext for entering and for quenching his own thirst, having slept through the noon sun.
She was sitting up in bed, wearing a plain white shirt, the linen sheet drawn up around her waist, silver hair tumbling about her shoulders and arms. She stared blankly towards the sound of the door closing and even from across the room Gawain could see the pinpoints of her pupils almost drowned in the sea of hazel green.
“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.