The Awakening (39 page)

Hwenfayre watched the boat as it made its way back from the
Merial
. She could see immediately that there were different people on it, but she was beyond caring. The Commander’s words still troubled her.

Love? Wyn?
She had tried to kill him.
What sort of love was that?
How could she love a man she had tried to kill? But he had left her.

Or had he really?
She only had Morag’s word and the High Priestess herself had tried to kill her.

With a cry of exasperation she spun away from the railing. These thoughts had been plaguing her ever since the High Priestess had so casually dismissed Wyn as both not who he claimed to be and dead by her hand. Despite the High Priestess’s betrayal and lies, she simply could not rid herself of the fear that some of what she had said was true.

And if none of it was true, she had herself tried to kill him.

Do I really love him?

Rather than face the news that the ship had brought, Hwenfayre went below to the small room
that had become her cabin, sat on the low pallet bed and stared at the bulkhead.

She was still there, wrestling with the confusion and frustration that tormented her mind when a firm knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

‘Hwenfayre?’ It was a crewman’s voice. ‘Hwenfayre, the Commander wants to see you in his cabin immediately.’

She paused at the Commander’s closed door as the crewman knocked to announce her arrival. From inside she could hear muffled conversation, but she was still so distracted that she did not pay it any heed. She was totally unprepared when Wyn opened the door.

‘Hwenfayre!’ he exclaimed.

She froze in the doorway, unable even to complete the step she had started to take into the room. Motionless, she could only stare at him.

Staring at Wyn, this man who had dominated her thoughts and heart for so long, she felt her world crash in about her.

Every emotion she knew rose like a wave within her, each clamouring for attention, threatening to overwhelm her. She stood, unable to speak or move. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat an effort. It seemed to her that time stood still as she looked at him.

She saw afresh his fighter’s stance, remembering how he had killed the Raider as they talked. She saw his coarse, unrefined features, comparing them with the more cultured, educated features of the long-gone Coerl. His hands twitched as she continued to stare, reminding her of the time he had so gently
undressed her and eased her pain. She could feel again the hardness of his calluses against her soft skin. He breathed and she took in the massiveness of his chest, recalling his strength and how he had carried her, cradling her against that powerful chest, protecting her with those arms. Her heart started to beat faster as the images of the times they had spent together flitted through her head. How she had missed him, his quiet strength, his confidence, his eyes. She looked up into those dark eyes. Once again she saw the hardness that allowed him to kill, the distance that had allowed him to leave her in the hands of Morag.

Hwenfayre felt herself beginning to move towards him, intending to throw herself into his arms and plead for his forgiveness and promise again never to let him down, when another thought intruded. It was as if the thought had come from somewhere outside herself, yet it was so powerful that it drowned out every other idea in her mind.
He left me to Morag!

He had left her! The pain of that betrayal, the danger he had left her in, jolted through her. She blinked and stepped back, a fire growing in her eyes as she felt again the dagger cut of anguish. Her heart slowed and went cold. All her life she had been treated as an outcast. In her home town, among the Children, even here and now. In a flash of insight, she realised it was not because of the way she looked, or her heritage: it was because of how she had acted. With the coldness heavy in her heart, she knew she was about to do it again and there was nothing she could do about it. No matter what might happen, she could not give in to the emotions that
urged her to go to him. There was nothing he could say that could deflect her from whatever was about to happen. She looked away from him to regard the Commander and the other men in the room.

‘You wanted to see me?’ she said, proud of how even and cool her voice sounded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wyn’s face fall as he stepped aside to allow her to pass. She ignored the pain she caused him.

The Commander regarded her thoughtfully. He was a man who commanded men, and he recognised that something significant had just happened. His curiosity was piqued, but he could wait.

‘Yes, Hwenfayre,’ he said. ‘I think there are some things about yourself you have neglected to tell me.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Your name, your real name for one thing, and what exactly is your relationship with the Children of the Raft.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know the answer to the second one.’

One of the other men, the one with the intelligent eyes and sun-bleached hair, stood up abruptly. ‘How can you not know? You have been with Morag! Surely she told you who you are.’

She looked at him. There was something about him that made her suddenly nervous. Behind her she heard Wyn move, his sword rattling slightly as if he had grasped its hilt.

Swallowing hard she forced herself to be calm. ‘I have spent time with Morag and she assured me I am nothing but an ordinary, perhaps even less than ordinary Novice. I am nothing to her. She tried to kill me when I offended her.’

Nolin nodded sadly and slowly sank back into his chair. ‘As I feared,’ he muttered.

‘What?’ asked the Commander.

‘Morag and her mother have been trying to deceive our people for years and now she is attempting to keep the truth from even the Danan herself.’

‘The Danan?’ asked Hwenfayre.

Nolin nodded. ‘Yes, you are the Danan. Any of our people should have known it the moment they laid eyes on you. If you have spent time with the High Priestess and no one recognised you, then her victory is all but complete. We are lost.’ He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

‘You may be,’ growled the Commander. ‘But we are not.’ He shot Hwenfayre a hard look, a look that would brook no refusal. ‘You are presently without people,’ he said. ‘I offer sanctuary.’

Hwenfayre hesitated. Something was happening that she did not understand. She looked about the room: all eyes were on her and none were friendly. Not even Wyn’s. He refused to hold her gaze, looking away, his face set hard.

Once again she felt alone among people.

‘Sanctuary from what?’ she asked finally.

‘Do you mean to tell me you don’t know?’ asked the Commander.

Several glib retorts from her past rose to her mind but she paused before speaking. This was no silly bully-boy with childish taunts come to torment her, this was a formidable man who commanded respect. Instead of attempting to fob him off with an inane comment, she merely shook her head.

He frowned, regarding her with a wary eye. Another man, an officer whose name escaped her, made as if to speak, but the Commander waved him to silence. After a few moments, he nodded.

‘I am inclined to believe you,’ he said slowly. ‘Which leaves me with yet another dilemma. What to do with you.’

‘Don’t do anything with me. You have offered me sanctuary, let me live in peace.’

The Commander shook his head slowly. ‘Peace is something I cannot offer you now. Not if this Navigator is to be trusted.’ Nolin stirred as if affronted by the words, but he was silenced by a hard glare from the Commander. ‘Do not forget, Navigator,’ he said, ‘despite your story, you remain one with my enemies until you prove yourself.’

Nolin subsided, insult written clearly across his face.

Hwenfayre looked at him closely. Beneath the bleach of the sun, his hair would have been dark. His eyes looked out of a face that had seen many sunsets on the open Sea. Those eyes turned on her as if feeling her gaze. They were not friendly but neither were they unkind. Rather he regarded her with speculation. She returned his gaze with all the courage she could muster and was surprised to see him lower his eyes and look away.

A sudden thrill ran through her as she realised that she was not powerless here. All the fear and uncertainty of the past parted briefly to give her a glimpse of something more, a chance that she might be what she had barely allowed herself to think she was. A reckless courage flickered across her mind as
she permitted herself a tiny smile. She turned slowly back to face the Commander. ‘If I accept your offer of sanctuary, what will you expect of me?’

‘The same as any of the Southern Raiders,’ he said. ‘Loyalty and obedience.’

‘To whom?’

‘Me. Or whoever holds the rank of Commander.’

‘Not good enough,’ she said. ‘I have listened to you for some time. You do not “offer sanctuary” to the sailors you defeat on the seas. You take them. No,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘you are not telling me close to the whole story.’

The Commander’s face was mottled with anger as she spoke. With barely contained fury he surged to his feet, his eyes flashing dangerously. ‘How dare you!’ he roared. ‘I will not tolerate insolence!’

Even as she watched him in his anger and outrage, she recognised something else, something she had started to see on the
Kelpie
—fear. With a strange sense of detachment she looked away from the Commander and observed the others. All those years spent watching the people around her, learning to know without words what they were thinking, clicked together in a single moment of clarity.
Everyone in this room was terrified of her!

Everyone except Wyn. He was feeling something else entirely. She paused as she looked at his plain warrior’s face. She knew she should recognise this feeling, she had seen others show it, but not to her. What was it?

She became aware that everyone was watching her, waiting for some form of response, but nothing seemed right. As she waited, the Commander’s anger seeped
from him and he sat back in his chair. Words that she might have said flowed away from her like a receding tide. She stood, silent, still, powerful. Her silence eased away from her, filling the room, until the only sounds were those from outside, the random noises of a ship waiting. Muffled voices of sailors calling out, seabirds crying, the Sea lapping at the hull, sails flapping while ropes, taut and stressed, creaked. Hwenfayre became aware of her own heartbeat, her breathing, the blood surging through her veins. Each breath brought with it new knowledge, new tastes, new scents. She felt time slow as she stood encased in her silence.

How long she would have stood like that, holding herself and those around her in silence, she never knew, for a sudden shout shattered the moment.

‘Sails!’

The cry cut through them, galvanising them all into action. As one, the Commander and the other officer leaped to their feet and they were gone, leaving Hwenfayre with Wyn and Nolin.

The three Children of Danan regarded each other warily, none of them speaking. Above them, the sounds of running feet and shouted commands increased as the
Misty Seal
made ready for battle. They felt her begin to shudder and move as the sails were unfurled and the wind started to fill them. Nolin looked up, feeling the ship through his feet. He frowned.

‘That’s odd,’ he observed.

‘What?’ asked Wyn.

‘We are either running from Morag’s fleet or something very strange has happened to the weather.’

Hwenfayre stared at Nolin in shock. ‘Morag’s fleet?’ she gasped. ‘What fleet?’

‘Morag has called her entire fleet of attack ships here to wipe out the Southern Raiders,’ said Wyn quietly.

Hwenfayre spun around to face him. ‘Why?’

Wyn shrugged. ‘Power,’ he said. ‘If she thinks you are dead, there is nothing left to stand in her way.’

Nolin shook his head. ‘She would know if the Danan were alive, I think,’ he suggested.

‘How?’ asked Hwenfayre.

‘Was there a sailor named Declan with her?’

Hwenfayre nodded. ‘He is the one who threw me overboard.’

‘Declan?’ asked Wyn. ‘Tall, fair-haired, slim build?’

Hwenfayre nodded. ‘I trusted him too,’ she added, staring at Wyn.

‘I knew someone called Declan once,’ said Wyn, either ignoring or not understanding her look. ‘What does he have to do with all this?’

Before Nolin could answer, the
Misty Seal
heeled over alarmingly as the wind shifted again. He looked up with concern. ‘Not good,’ he muttered. ‘Morag has some Priestesses with some power with her, I think. The wind doesn’t do that sort of thing, not even this far south.’ He regarded Hwenfayre speculatively. ‘I think, Your Highness, that the time has come for you to decide whose side you are on.’

“‘Your Highness”?’ asked Hwenfayre.

‘No matter what anyone says, you are the Princess and High Priestess of my people,’ replied the Navigator. ‘I will serve you whatever you decide.’

‘Why?’ asked Wyn.

‘Morag has betrayed us by her actions and if, as you say, Your Highness, she attempted to have you killed, then she stands condemned and unfit to be High Priestess.’ He gave Hwenfayre a short bow. ‘What are you going to do, Your Highness?’

On deck, the crew of the
Misty Seal
hurried about their tasks with the skill borne of years of living at sea. Preparing for battle, even against a fleet that spanned the horizon, was as natural as breathing for the Southern Raiders.

They were about a day’s sail away from the Wrested Archipelago, but the Commander was confident that they had enough distance between them for him to be able to keep ahead until the rest of his fleet could join the attack. He sent a message to the
Merial
instructing them to make all speed to the Archipelago and bring the Raiders’ fleet to meet them. He toyed briefly with the idea of sending Nolin with Sacchin, but he did not fully trust the Navigator. It would be best to keep Nolin here, under his watch.

And you never know
, the Commander thought,
he may even be useful in time
. He muttered a curse as the wind, already a little fluky, swung around again.