Page 35 of The Wand of Lore

Steffan stopped laughing, but he was still smiling as he addressed his father. “I knew he was a traitor from the start, Father. I have done a great service to Innsbrook by ensuring his death. It will be painful and long, only quickened when he loses himself to anger like the petulant child he has always been.”

“But what reason could you possibly have to hate me so?” asked Vaylor.

“You killed my mother.” Steffan leaned close to him, his sword now touching Vaylor’s chest. He whispered into his ear, “And you were coming for my throne.”

At this, Vaylor laughed, despite the sword poking his blotchy black chest, despite the ring of swords surrounding him, despite his father standing there, watching it happen, despite his lover stuck behind bars. The very notion that he ever wanted to be a king? To be like his father?

“Everyone around these parts seems to have forgotten that it was I who slipped away from Gorenth Castle, not Gorenth Castle that ejected me,” he said, and in one desperate motion, he swung his sword to parry his brother’s, and aimed his sword at his brother’s neck.

“Drop it, you fool. Leave the witches, my son, Prince of Innsbrook and Lord of Wellwall. Don’t die for them,” said King Eger, his voice icy cold.

“You were right from the beginning. I’m not your son. I don’t want to be like you. Let them go, or kill me.”

King Eger snorted. “If you say so.” And before Vaylor could blink, the guards closed in on him. One had easily parried his sword so that Steffan was no longer in danger, then swung it down low. In an instant, Vaylor’s right leg was seared with pain and he fell to the ground. What faint light there was dimmed as he sat in a pool of blood. His leg was next to him. He screamed at the pain, and still the guards advanced. It was over. Vaylor closed his eyes and waited for nothingness to overtake him.

He heard a crash, a swish of metal, a scream, then sensed the unmistakable feeling of magic coursing through the air. He opened his eyes and saw Gwenneth standing in front of him, arms outstretched, her mother’s wand pointing to the sky as a beam of power erupted through the bodies of the guards. Every one of them fell. She waved the wand again; the metal cages flew open and collars clanged as they dropped to the floor. Light erupted from the wand and surrounded her, so everywhere Vaylor could see the faces of women long forgotten emerge in the doorways. Their hunched shoulders straightened as they examined the carnage, hands flew to bare necks, and a symphony of emotion roared throughout the dungeon as laughter mixed with sobs.

“Come gather near me!” shouted Gwenneth. “Bring your wands! Let’s get out of here!”

“Wait!” snarled an old witch wearing a long and beautiful dress. She was the only witch not wearing a dirty brown shift. She pointed her wand at Gwenneth. “They will find us and kill us all. Go back to your cages, and you will beg for clemency.”

“Not this time, Mother,” said Gwenneth. The Mother Witch let out a battle cry in her shrill metallic voice, and sparks flew from her wand toward Gwenneth, who deflected it with a flick of her wand. She responded with a spell of her own that had the Mother on her back, seemingly asleep. “Any other doubters here? Stay if you will, but I’m leaving!”

Another witch, this one around the same age as Gwenneth, stepped forward and pointed at Vaylor. “And this brute? He must die; he has witnessed too much, and I gather that he is an enslaver.” She pointed a gnarled finger at him, and Vaylor could smell the magic sizzling off her skin.

“He will not die. It is by his hand that we are free. In front of the king, he slipped me the key to the collars and the wand that is saving us all. He has paid for our freedom with his blood.”

“I’ll never answer to another prince again,” said the witch, and magic shot out of her wand. Twenty beams of light flashed from twenty wands as twenty witches cast shields over Vaylor.

“She’s not wrong,” said Vaylor. “I have committed atrocities, and I don’t expect forgiveness.”

“I won’t leave you here to die, and there’s no time to discuss this now,” responded Gwenneth as they heard the sound of footsteps running down the stairs, and armor clanging. “Come to me if you wish to escape! We must go now or risk a lifetime of captivity!” This time nobody objected as they held hands and formed a circle around Vaylor, who was still on the floor, unable to rise. Another flash, and they were gone.

Chapter Twenty-One: Gwenneth

Gwenneth closed her eyes as, all around her, light filled the air. On her left, Aledina’s hand was warm in hers, and on her right, a witch no older than ten clutched her hand fiercely. She waited before opening her eyes in the light, fearing pain after spending so long in darkness, but when at last she did, the light sat on her like a warm blanket, soft and safe, weighty but not uncomfortable. Her bare neck was exposed to the sun, and she rolled her head in a circle just for the joy of the movement. Other witches opened their eyes too, and they smiled and then laughed and cried and jumped around like school girls as they experienced freedom.

Gwenneth turned to Vaylor, who sat on the ground in the center of the circle, head bowed and his mouth in a thin line. His face was pale, and blood was still dribbling out of his severed leg. Slowly, he raised his dark eyes until they met hers. She returned his gaze and saw his eyes were wide with sorrow. She waved her wand, and his bleeding stopped and the pain eased. She sat by him on the ground and put a hand on his good leg.

“You betrayed me,” she said, and he nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words.

“I wanted my father to accept me. I’m sorry. It was foolish, and it was wrong, and I hurt you.”

“But you came back for me. Also foolish.”

“I couldn’t leave you. I had this idea that I could bring you to my castle and let you live with me in peace. I would hide you and protect you.”

“You have a castle? Why have you done all this if you have a castle you could go home to?”

“I wasn’t allowed. I was disinherited. Also, I suppose I don’t have it anymore.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. You threw away everything to save me?”

A single tear ran down Vaylor’s cheek.

“I love you, Gwenneth. You bring light and joy and life everywhere you go. I was stupid and cruel to ever try to work with the king. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but know that I am sorry. I’ll leave you all in peace.”

“They threatened your life and forced you to do it.”

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