Wolves at the Gate

Wolves at the Gate

  Episode 1 of A Light in Her Violet Eyes

  A Story of the Second Realm

  By R.J. Davnall

  Copyright 2013 R. J. Davnall

  This ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  The Second Realm

  Season 1: The Second Gift

  Season 2: Children of the Wild

  The Rabbit Hole:

  Episode 1: Through the Fire and Flames

  Episode 2: The Sins of the Brother

  Episode 3: Did You Never Dream of Flying?

  Episode 4: Catch Me When I Fall

  Episode 5: The Only Thing We Know is That We Know Nothing

  Episode 6: We Have to Go Deeper

  https://itsthefuturestupid.blogspot.com/

  Contents

  Wolves at the Gate

  About the Author

  A Light in Her Violet Eyes

  1. Wolves at the Gate

  The first words out of Quilo's mouth were, "Where is Taslin?" The ancient Gift-Giver's face was stern, lined with a concern that made Pevan's gut writhe. His robes shifted about him like smoke, too ephemeral even to be the layered gauzes he'd been wrapped in at the trial. Had that really only been earlier today? Her head throbbed.

  Rel, undaunted, strode forward, the hazy air of the inner Court billowing around him so that even the blank corridor walls seemed to shift at his passage. When he spoke, his voice was fierce, much more like his old self. "We were attacked by the Separatists. I believe Taslin was captured."

  Pevan peered at her brother's face, trying to work out why he hadn't mentioned their rescue by the mysterious figure who'd called himself Fate. It was comforting to have Rel around to be the strong one for a while, but the memory of Vessit was sharp in her mind. What if he caused a fresh confrontation with the Gift-Givers here, in the heart of their domain?

  "Did you use your Gift here?" In the gloom, it was hard to tell, but Quilo's face might have paled.

  "No. Something hit me and made me blink just as I was trying to open myself to it, and by the time I recovered to try again, Taslin was gone." Rel's eyes dropped, his frown turning inward. "I think Taslin might have been the one to stop me. Do you think..?"

  "The Separatists would have had no motive for doing so." Quilo spoke stiffly, but not from a Wildren's awkwardness with language. "Back to the Court proper. You will give a full report."

  Rel nodded. Quilo spun on his heel and led off, Rel following in the straight-legged march he fell into whenever he felt he was on a mission. Pevan scurried to catch up, a worry beginning to niggle at the back of her brain. Rel would only be so focussed if he had a specific goal in mind, but what goal did he have? Rescuing Taslin? How? And more to the point, why?

  Although the route by which Taslin had brought them to the foundations of the Court had been long and winding, it took only a minute or so to bring them out into the Great Hall. They passed through two moments where parts of the building seemed to fold back around them, the arcane geometry of the Court reassembling a stable, safe environment for human logic as they approached. Quilo stayed silent through the trip, and so did Rel.

  As they emerged into the Great Hall, Pevan had the sense of a veil lifting from her eyes. The sunlit colours of the Hall sprang into vibrant relief, much more real and immediate than the dreary passageways of the inner Court. Atla stood at the foot of the dais, his face grey with worry. He put her in mind of a lone, windswept tree on an otherwise barren plain, isolated and powerless.

  She looked past him and faltered, coming to a stop before her legs could give way. Perhaps a hundred feet away, a crowd of Wildren awaited their arrival. More Wildren than she'd ever seen in one place before, in every colour of the rainbow, and hints of a few others besides. Some of them were the semi-sentient Court guards, but she had to assume that most were Gift-Givers. Taking only the roughest of guesses, there had to be at least a couple of hundred of them.

  Chag stood just in front of the audience, surrounded by six guards and with a turquoise-robed Gift-Giver in attendance. The Gift-Giver was one of Quilo's assistants, but she couldn't call up his name. Chag looked no happier than Atla, his attention turned inwards.

  The thief's presence raised some complicated questions. Her anger at him had faded as the day wore on, though she could feel it waiting if she wanted to call on it. Why had the Separatists left him behind to be captured? Perhaps after learning the truth about Separation, he'd switched allegiance. Then again, it could just be some fresh twist of the path Delaventrin had plotted through the future.

  Either way, he gave very little away, avoiding Pevan's eyes as she glared at him. A tingle ran down her spine, and she realised she was standing alone on the dais, with every eye in the vast hall on her. Rel and Quilo had descended to join Atla. Actually, they'd descended to stand somewhere near Atla - the Guide hung awkwardly behind Rel's shoulder, trying to be included but sticking out like a sore thumb.

  She walked over to join the lad, self-consciousness making her legs stiff. He welcomed her with a wan smile, voice even weedier than normal, "Are you... uh, are you okay?"

  "No worse than I was when last you saw me." She tried to make the words jocular, but wasn't sure if she succeeded. "None the worse for the excursion, anyway."

  "Sorry I couldn't, uh, be more help." He looked down.

  Quilo chose that moment to speak, his voice sharp enough to stifle further conversation. "Now, Relvin Atcar, Pevan Atcar, please report as precisely as you can what happened while you were in the inner Court."

  Pevan met Rel's eyes. He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded for him to go ahead. He was much better at precise reporting anyway. He took a deep breath, let it out steadily, and began. "Taslin took us first to the Gallery of Liars. There, she..." He paused, his eyes flickering to Chag, then back to Quilo. "Forgive me, Gift-Giver, I feel I should ask before I go on. How freely should I speak of what we saw?"

  "Speak freely." Quilo's features, normally mild by Gift-Giver standards, were stony, his voice harsh with restrained anger. "We must make decisions which may affect all present. Secrecy would be dangerous at this point."

  Rel nodded. He explained how Taslin had used the Gallery, with its beautiful, eerie monuments to Wildren who'd lied for the greater good and paid for it with their lives, to emphasise her condemnation of the Separatists. He kept glancing at Chag, and Pevan couldn't help following his gaze when he recounted the worst of Taslin's claims. The little man seemed lost in himself, probably reliving his actions at Af again.

  The tension drained a little as Rel, his tone clinical, described their brief detour by way of the Gallery of Neonates. Pevan closed her eyes to savour the memory of her momentary glimpse into that Gallery, a rolling ocean of colours far removed from anything she could conceptualise. The room had flat-out glowed with life and warmth. Quilo nodded approval as Rel mentioned the abrupt burst of violence with which Taslin had kept them from getting a better view of the Gallery. Well, if it was where the Wildren stored their young, some protection probably was in order.

  Rel looked at her as he went over the ambush, but she shrugged. It had happened far too fast to understand, the hallway vanishing and taking Taslin with it. Pevan had thrown herself to the ground out of reflex, and by the time she'd got back up, they were stranded among the foundations of the Court.

  She blinked in surprise as Rel said, "After that, we... talked. About some stuff that, well... uh, it's no business of this court's. It was a personal conversation." Again, his eyes found hers, more definitely tight with pleading this time. "I'd really rather keep it private, with your blessing, Quilo. Please?"

  The Gift-G
iver nodded, his face stern. "If I decide that the content of your conversation is relevant, you will be obliged to share it at least with me. For now, though, please continue."

  "I... uh..." Rel looked down at his hands. Maybe she'd really got through to him this time. Whether or not it would make any difference to his behaviour remained to be seen. "I don't know how long we talked for, but eventually a... well, a man appeared."

  "A human?" Quilo's tone sharpened. "In the Founding?"

  "I'm not sure he was completely human, but he wasn't a Wilder." Rel almost managed to keep from glancing Pevan's way for support again. "He called himself Fate. He explained that the Separatists had ambushed us and taken Taslin captive, then... well, I'm not sure what he did, but it allowed us to return to the Court."

  Some half-seen motion out of the corner of Pevan's eye drew her attention to Chag. Rat-like and beady, his eyes were fixed on Rel. Where his stance had been half-melted, there was now tension in his every joint. She studied him, trying to penetrate the strange mix of anger and fear on his face. Could it have been anything but the mention of Fate that had set him off?

  She took a step forward, past Quilo, and said, "What do you know, Chag?"

  He jumped out of his skin, the movement sudden enough that two of his Guards leapt into ready stances. The thief glared at Pevan for a moment, then turned back to Rel.