Page 49 of The Iron Vow

Heart in my throat, I sprinted toward the waterfall as Keirran heaved himself onto the bank, coughing, dripping wet, and drenched head to toe in river water.

17

TEARS OF A NIGHTMARE

“Keirran!”

I rushed toward him, as my son staggered away from the bank and fell to his knees, gasping. His shoulders heaved, and he clutched at his chest, as if he couldn’t draw in enough air. His lips were blue, and dark veins stood out beneath his skin where the water had soaked through his clothes.

“Keirran.” I knelt beside him, seeing his face streaked with tears, his eyes red as if he had spent an entire day and night sobbing without a break. “Can you hear me?”

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped. One hand went to his throat, his mouth gaping as he shook with ragged sobs. His entire body was locked and rigid with tension. “I can’t... I can’t...”

“Easy.” I put a trembling hand on his back, fighting my own instincts to panic. Immediately, a flood of horror and sorrow rushed in, images and faces flickering through my mind. I recoiled with a gasp, as Gilleas and the others rushed up, their faces pale when they saw the convulsing form of the Forgotten King.

“Do not touch him!” Gilleas swept one long arm forward, stopping our Nyx from springing to his side. “The water will affect you as well. We must get him dry. Someone, build a fire. Get him out of those clothes but avoid touching them if you can.”

Ash moved forward, shrugging out of his long black coat and swirling it around Keirran’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of Keirran,” he told me, then glanced at the others with narrowed eyes. “Someone get a fire going, now!”

“On it,” Puck said, and rushed off, presumably to find wood. The others followed, scattering into the mountain, leaving me alone with my family and Gilleas.

I knelt beside Keirran as Ash deftly helped him out of his wet clothes. Occasionally, I saw Ash grimace or grit his teeth as he stripped away a piece of drenched clothing, but he continued his task with grim determination. Keirran tried to help, but he was still panting, his breaths ragged. The water streaming from his eyes left trails of darkness down his cheeks.

Reaching out, I took his hand. His skin was clammy and cold, but mostly dry. “Breathe, Keirran,” I told him as he shook violently under my fingers. The sharp, bitter scent of the water made my own throat close up. I could only imagine what he was seeing, what the Wailing One’s memories were showing him. I blinked away the tears starting to form in my own eyes and bit the corner of my lip, hard enough to taste blood. The pain did not completely drive away the feelings of horror and grief swirling through my chest, but it helped me focus on helping my son. “Listen to me. Calm yourself. Focus on our voices and shut out everything else.”

“I can’t,” Keirran whispered. “The voices are so loud. Everyone is gone.” One hand covered his face, his palm pressing into his left eye as if trying to pop it out. “I could feel them Fading. I knew the moment they disappeared from existence. I know them all. I can still see their faces, their spark, everything about them. My world is gone. The Evenfey...” His breath hitched, dark tears spilling from a stare that was suddenly glassy and faraway. “Forgive me, Evenfey, Forgotten... They called me their king, but I could not protect them.”

My stomach twisted. Keirran was seeing the Nightmare King’s past, reliving the grief and rage of the ruler of Evenfall, but for a moment, it was as if he was speaking for them both. The Nightmare King and the King of the Forgotten, both unable to save their subjects, both feeling as if they had failed them.

“I was afraid it was something like that.” Gilleas peered down at us, his voice grave. “The Whisper warned not to touch the water, but she also said something else. She said that it was a poison. And poisons, at least in this world, tend to linger.”

A chill of horror crawled up my spine. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer at first, looking at Keirran instead. Ash had relieved Keirran of most of his soggy clothes, and Keirran now huddled beneath the long black coat, head bowed and shoulders trembling. “Can you hear me, Forgotten King?” Gilleas asked.

Keirran made a visible effort to compose himself. His hands clenched on the rock, and he drew in a shaky breath. For a moment, he stopped trembling, his voice calm as he answered. “I hear you.”

“What is it you see, exactly?” Gilleas went on. Keirran hesitated, shivering, then took another deep breath and raised his head.

“Shadows,” he said, his eyes sweeping over the area on both sides of the river. “Evenfey. I...” One hand went to his skull, fingers digging into his wet hair. “I know they’re not real, that they’re not really there,” he choked out. “They’re echoes, that’s the best I can describe it. But... I see them. And they’re all staring at me.”

“How many?” Gilleas wondered.

“I don’t know.” Keirran’s voice was dull. “Dozens. Hundreds. It’s hard to tell. They keep fading in and out.”

“And where do you see them?”

My son shivered and hunched his shoulders again. “Everywhere.”

“Echoes of the king’s memories.” Grimalkin’s voice reached my ears. The cat was perched on an overhanging rock, tail curled tightly around his feet as he peered down. “The Whisper told you not to touch the water, because it is the tears of the Wailing One. And the Wailing One is a manifestation of grief and despair, perhaps of the Nightmare King himself.”

“Yes,” agreed Gilleas. “Elder Nightmares, and named ones especially, can possess powers unique to anything else in Evenfall. The real danger is that the effects of the tears might not go away. I fear that this one—” he nodded at Keirran “—might see the echoes of the dead as long as he remains in Evenfall. Or possibly...longer.”

Ash straightened, his voice low and dangerous. “And if we kill the Wailing One,” he said in a tone that might’ve frozen the river if he still had his magic, “would that free Keirran from its curse?”

“I do not know,” Gilleas said. “Perhaps.”

A clatter over the rocks made me turn. Puck and the others had returned with firewood, and in a few minutes, a small fire crackled against the rocks, throwing back the coming darkness. Keirran was laid out in front of it, still draped in Ash’s coat, and he fell into a delirious sleep. I sat beside him, holding his hand, my heart twisting at every flinch, every tiny gasp or tortured whisper, hoping the nightmare that had Keirran in its grip would eventually fade.

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