This time, waking up was a struggle. He was buried beneath layers of blankets, soft, warm and dense, and every time he wormed his way past one of them another waited to take its place. Every blanket carried snatches of memory; here was the angry crowd, and there was the small woman who had shoved forward after his offer of help.

“A mage?” she had spat. “So it’s your fault, then? Seems to me this whole thing stinks of magic.” Horrified by the hostility, he’d backed away, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go. Someone else had jeered from the crowd, “who’s going to let you magic them, anyway?” The hostile atmosphere echoed Fiona’s house in Irshand, so much so that his memories dissolved into a confused mess of wounded soldiers and flying machines.

Aeons later, moments later, his next coherent recollection was of the town healer, Mira, who had gruffly volunteered to be “magicked”, and of Kite patiently talking through the facts behind the disease he’d volunteered to fight. Her analogies coloured his dreams with evil little soldiers attacking a castle which appeared in his dreams not as Corwaith Keep, squat and ugly, dull and grey, but as a soaring construction of towers and battlements the like of which he’d never actually seen. He had to help the dream castle, but it already had defenders, so his job, Kite said, was to warn them.

“So... they’re like little men attacking the body? And I have to point them out to the body’s defenders?”

“Yes, but you must be aware of the reality. They’re not little men. The magic won’t work properly if you don’t understand what’s going on.”

The dream castle wavered and ran like dripping paint, to be followed by Mira’s infirmary, and the endless row of beds with patients in various stages of illness. He’d sat by each one, each one a dream castle, each one with its own array of defenders at different stages of the battle, and for each one he’d poured magic into their defenders, Kite’s hand on his shoulder as she monitored what he was doing. And after the beds there were the rest of the townsfolk, shocked silent and grudgingly willing to submit to Kite’s insistence that everybody had to be checked. Their castles had not all been under attack, but many had. Somewhere in that crowd he lost his thread of purpose, and flailed in the dream for what had happened next, before sinking back again into the welcoming dark.

Actually waking up was an anticlimax in that it felt like just another memory. The same small sunlit inn room, the same bed and patterned quilt, the same red tunic next to him where Kite sat on the same chair. Only this time she wasn’t dozing, she was looking at a large piece of paper. On the bed opposite, the location of the glow of golden hair suggested Aeryn was sitting up, not lying down like last time. Saryth blinked, and became aware of a bone-deep exhaustion throughout his body. But I’ve just woken up! Kite glanced sideways from the paper she was looking at, and smiled.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been here before. Very tired.” Even his voice dragged, every word an effort.

“That’s not too surprising. Do you remember anything?”

His memories of what had happened smeared into the memories of his dream. Was it all like that?

“I remember the crowd,” he said to Kite, because that at least was clear in his head.

“Now do you see why coming out with stuff like that is a bad idea?” she asked, standing up and putting the paper down on her chair. “You were lucky Mira trusted us.”

So that was real too.

“I remember you telling me about viruses,” he tried, and she nodded and made encouraging noises while fiddling with something on the table at the other end of the room. He fumbled in his mind for what happened next, but the dream castles couldn’t possibly make sense, so he gave up. “After that it’s all a bit vague.”

“Yes, well, that’s what happens when you overexert yourself.” She turned round, carrying a bowl, and suddenly he noticed the rich scent of food, as though his nose had only just started working. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” He tried to push himself upright, but there was no strength in his muscles at all, and his arms wobbled and gave way.

“Don’t try and sit up,” Kite said, putting the bowl on her chair. “Here, let me help.” She rearranged pillows so he could sit semi-upright, supported by their soft bulk.

“I feel pathetic,” he said as she picked up the bowl and sat down again.

“Whose fault is that?” Kite smirked unsympathetically.

“That doesn’t help.”

He stopped talking when she presented the spoon, filled with what looked like a vegetable broth. For two spoonfuls he lost himself in the richness and depth of the taste, even as part of him recognised it was just the same simple broth the inn had provided every night they’d been there. Somehow it tasted better than before. Then he noticed Aeryn’s gaze upon him, golden eyes watching with a kind of desperate intensity. He jerked back, jogging Kite’s arm and spilling the spoonful onto the blanket.

“Saryth! If you’re not hungry -”

“No, no, I am! Sorry...”

She resumed feeding him, and Saryth tried to keep his eyes on the bowl and away from the room’s third occupant.

The following day Saryth was gratified to find he could not only sit up without help, he could also feed himself without dropping things, although he was also clearly relieved to be tested on cheese and bread rather than more broth for the evening meal. He was still hungry, was hungry most of the time he was awake, in between the bouts of deep, restorative sleep. Kite was just desperately grateful he was recovering well after his collapse during the testing of the asymptomatic villagers when she had realised, too late, how close he had come to utterly draining himself. Now she knelt on his bed, looking out of the window while he ate, watching the sun beginning to set over the hills that surrounded the village. Glorious streaks of pink and flaming gold reached out against the darkening sky.

“So, what happens now?” he asked her between bites, his voice no longer slow or slurred. “Are we still going to see your people?”

“No.” She turned and grinned at him. “Guess what? A new gateway has opened!”

“Like in Ath Shera? Isn’t that a bit of a coincidence?”

“Not if the sun’s responsible,” Kite said gleefully. “It means we’re on track! So I’m going to send a message to the settlement by Setharye, and we can go through the gateway as soon as possible, before it closes again.” She turned round to sit on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid kneeling on his legs under the blankets.

“So was it the sun that caused the sickness?” Saryth asked.

“Maybe? It worries me a bit,” she admitted. “I don’t know how close we are. It could be much worse the closer we get.”

She fell silent, thinking, and Saryth chewed through another roll before starting on a different topic.

“Is Aeryn coming with us? Where is he, anyway?”

“Outside, watching the sun set. He seems to find dusk and dawn mesmerising.” Kite knelt on the floor and rummaged under the bed for her boots. “Yes, he’s coming with us. He talked to me a couple of nights ago. While we were watching you sleep.” Saryth flushed, and she pretended not to notice. “He said he’s looking for the right place to be. That it hurts to be in the wrong place.”

“Hurts?”

“He said he’s afraid of the ‘bad world’, whatever that may be.” She balanced on one leg, wiggling her fingers between trousers and boot on the other foot.

“Castellan?”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure. He seems pretty scared of it. It could just be a figment of his imagination, though.” She frowned at the memory, Aeryn trying to remember and explain, lost for words and then abruptly terrified, and regretted her choice of phrase. Whatever had scared him was definitely real to him. “I think by ‘place’, he means a world.”

“So he’s looking for his home world?”

“That’s the logical conclusion. But, well, we have no records of anyone like him. It could just be that we’ve never found his world, but...” she tailed off, then shrugged. “Anyway, I’m going to fetch him. It’s almost dark. You go to sleep. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But -”

“Don’t worry,” she grinned at him. “I’ve got it all sorted. Go to sleep!”

“Right...”

She shut the door behind her, went down the stairs and set off through the village. Aeryn was sitting in his usual spot, looking out over a small cliff towards the mountains in the west. The setting sun raked its fingers through his hair, crowning his head with flame. He gave no indication of having noticed her. Kite paused a little way away and waited for him to finish his sunset vigil.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Saryth managed to get dressed the next morning, but found to his chagrin that walking unaided was out of the question. Between them, Kite and Aeryn managed to support him down the stairs and out of the inn to where a small crowd - friendly and smiling this time - waited to say goodbye. A small crowd and a donkey, wearing a bridle and a riding blanket. Kite and Aeryn walked him unevenly to the donkey, where he stared at the small beast in dismay.

“This is ‘sorted’?”

“Come on,” Kite said cheerily. “We’ll be here for ages if we don’t take Daisy.” She positioned him against the donkey’s side, then instructed Aeryn to boost him up so she could help him sit on the blanket. He looked oversized on his small mount, but he was slight and the donkey didn’t seem to notice his weight with more than a flick of one patient ear. He gave Kite a resigned look.

“Daisy.”

Kite took the leading rein from the donkey’s owner, Mira’s sister-in-law, and turned to the crowd. She was uncertain of what to say. Seeker rules were not to draw attention to yourself, but she’d broken that more times than she could remember, and not just in Setharye.

“So, um, goodbye,” she said. “Thanks for lending Daisy to us. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Goodbye!”

“Safe journey!”

“Thank you!”

The calls and waves from the crowd persisted as they walked away, leaving Kite with a warm feeling inside her. Don’t get attached to that. It nearly cost far too much. She looked sideways at Saryth, perched on the donkey and swaying with her steady plod. He looked sleepy already. She signalled to Aeryn, and the tall man positioned himself by the donkey, ready to catch Saryth if he fell.

By the end of the day they were all weary, and Kite was glad to see the stopping point Mira had suggested, a ruined castle whose tumbledown walls afforded better shelter than the road. She rubbed the donkey down and made tea over a small fire as the dark set in. Aeryn came back from watching the sun set and hugged his knees, staring at the fire. She handed round the food the villagers had provided.

“How many more days to Ansel?” Saryth asked.

“Oh... another two.” Kite yawned.

“And... how long will it take for me to get better?” His voice was steady but she heard the worry underneath.

“You should be fine by then,” she said, trying to reassure him. “You recovered quickly from the gateway opening. That was quite impressive, really - oh.” He’d fallen asleep while listening, tea spilling from his tipped mug. She eased him to the ground so he lay flat, cushioned his head and put his cloak over him. The fire crackled quietly, and Aeryn watched, his golden eyes a mirror of the dancing flames.

Two days later the road crested a hill and a valley opened out before them. The landscape had become more hilly the further they walked from the village, but the sudden drop to the valley was unexpected. Kite paused at the top of the switchback trail that led down the near side and nudged Saryth, who was dozing on the donkey again.

“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up! We’re here!”

He started awake and stared across the valley at the city at the far side, basking in the rays of the late afternoon sun. It was built against the cliff and was surrounded on the near side by a river, with a single large arched bridge affording a crossing. The houses clustered thickly between the river and the cliff, with several built up into the cliff itself. The road surfaced above those houses, zig-zagging up to the top of the cliff, opposite where they stood.

“Oh...” he managed, eyes wide. Aeryn was also staring, but not at the city. He looked - not alarmed, exactly, but alert and wary.

“Aeryn, what’s wrong?”

“Up there,” he said. He wasn’t pointing, he rarely gestured, but his head was tipped back and he was gazing at the sky. “Where are they going? They look like they want to - to touch the sun.”

Kite looked up and saw artificial wings gliding in circles above them. She stared in fascination. She’d heard about such things but never seen them, and no mention had been made of them the last time she’d read Setharye’s database entry. I’ll have to remember that and record it. Aeryn gazed up at the gliders throughout their descent, seemingly unaware of the precipitous drop by the side of the path.

There were guards at the bridge, as there had been in Ath Shera, although these ones wore leather gear and carried short spears.

“Who seeks entrance to Ansel?” one of them said as the little party approached.

“I’m Kite, and these are -”

“Kite who?” he interrupted.

“Kite Seeker,” Kite said. “And, um, this is Saryth of Araithel and Aeryn of Ath Shera.” For all the good that does you. But the guard accepted the names, smiled and nodded, and made scratches on the wax tablet he was carrying.

“Welcome to our city. Guest-houses are marked by blue signs.” He gestured behind him, and Kite thanked him and led on.

Within the city, the roads were paved, and Daisy’s hooves thudded against the stone. Smiling people hurried to and fro, reminding Kite of the folk in Taerside, Kirmouth and Ath Shera, for all the differences in colour and clothing. The city was too constrained by its geography for large plazas, but small markets clustered at the intersections, most apparently grouped by product. The streets narrowed as they led away from the main road, and the houses were built high and somewhat overhanging, making the most of the space but leaving the street beneath shadowed even in full daylight.

The main road, which remained broad and unshadowed, zig-zagged up past the little markets towards the cliff that towered over the city. Here and there blue signs indicated guesthouses. Kite followed the directions Mira had given her until she judged she was in the right general area, then turned to Saryth.

“Well... pick a guesthouse.”

“Which is good?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. Pick the one that smiles at you.”

He looked around, then pointed up a side lane to a house set into the cliff, with steps leading up over a stable. A blue square was painted onto the side of the house as well as the stable door. As Kite watched, a woman came out of the stable bearing buckets and went up the steps to the house.

“That one.”

Kite led them up the side road and paused by the stable. Saryth slid awkwardly off Daisy and steadied himself on the stable door. The donkey blew out a huge sigh and shook her head.

After a few moments, the woman came back out of the house and smiled at them.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you have a room for three for the night, please?”

“I do. Are you wanting to stable your donkey?”

“No, I need to take her to her owner.” Kite haggled briefly with the landlady and paid for the room.

“You two go in,” she said to Saryth and Aeryn. “I’m taking Daisy to Mira’s cousin.” She led the donkey away as the landlady went back up the stairs with the two men following. Saryth managed the stairs without too much difficulty, but she was touched to see Aeryn hovering behind in case he needed help. Well, it looked like that’s what he was doing. Half the time Aeryn seemed in a daze, like he didn’t even know what was happening.

The room was in the attic under low beams, the roof slanting on both sides so that Aeryn could only stand up in the middle. There was a single and a double bed, a small table and a pretty rag rug on the wooden floor. Saryth sat on the double bed, enjoying the feeling of being clean and fed and almost normally tired, as opposed to the deep, draining exhaustion of the past week. The soft bed was particularly enticing after three days of sleeping on the ground.

Aeryn came in, his hair damp from the wash tub, and headed for the single bed.

“This bed, Aeryn,” Saryth said.

“Isn’t that yours?”

“Yes, and yours too. That one’s Kite’s. Where else do you think she’s going to sleep?”

Aeryn turned thoughtfully, then pointed to the double. Saryth felt his face heat.

“No! Just... no. You’re in this one.”

Aeryn looked like he was going to argue, but at that point Kite came in, also freshly washed and smiling. She went to the single bed and Aeryn immediately went to the double. Saryth felt both vindicated and irritated at the same time, and tried to squash the feelings. Don’t be silly.

“Ready?” Kite asked.

“Yes.”

“’night, then.” She lowered the wick of the oil lamp on the little table and darkness flooded the room. The moon wasn’t up yet, but light from the city filtered in through the window, casting everything in deep grey shadow.

“Kite?” Saryth asked, not quite ready to sleep yet despite his weariness.

“Mm?”

“I didn’t know you had a surname.” Surnames were for the wealthy. At least, they are in Araithel.

“I don’t,” she said. “It’s a description. A vague one at the moment. Hopefully it will change.” He digested that for a moment. If it was a description, then so was what she had called him.

“I don’t want to be ‘of Araithel’,” he said. “I don’t want to be associated with it.”

“Then, what -”

“’Seeker’ will do. I’d like that.” He settled back into the darkness, satisfied, and sleep caught up with him at last.

In the bright morning the three travellers walked up the road to the top of the cliff. It was early, and Aeryn kept turning to look at the rising sun.

“How much further?” Saryth asked as the road reached the top.

“Not much,” Kite said, and turned to look at him. “Tired?”

“I’m fine,” he said, but he was leaning on a rock. Kite slowed her pace. The gateway would wait. The road led onwards for a mile before plunging into a forest, and she felt her pulse quicken. This is it!

“Can you sense it?” she asked Saryth, unable to keep her tone level.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go,” she said, beginning the invocation. The gateway opened, and she went through, Saryth following after.

“No!”

She turned round just as the gateway closed. Aeryn was backing away, fear written all over his face. “No!” he shouted again. “Stay away!”

“Aeryn? What’s wrong -” A loud thwack interrupted her and she spun round to see Saryth sprawled on the ground, apparently out cold.

“Saryth!”

And then she felt what he had, the sense of presence, the rush of air and the violent impact on the back of her head. The ground spun up to meet her as she collapsed.