Chapter Seven - Gwydion

"This could be some kind of trick," Leolin muttered, leaning towards Órlaith even as he kept his eyes on Gwydion and the other two.

"Would magehunters really lower themselves that much?" Órlaith responded, keeping her voice equally quiet. "To disguise themselves as spellweavers?"

"Maybe not," Leolin said. "But something still doesn't feel right."

"I know," Órlaith murmured. Then, to Gwydion, she said, "Why should that mean anything to us? Why would you think that's something we have in common, anyway?"

The woman beside him snorted. "The rumours are all around, girl," she said. "Couple of spellweavers on the run, one of them disguised and one not. Though I see you've got yourself some kind of colour there." She tipped her head at Leolin. "Good. Less noticeable. Unless you know how to look for magic, like we do."

"And why would you be looking for us?" Órlaith asked, tense. They should have thought of this. They should have realised that people might be looking for them - Órlaith's hair might not mark her so obviously as a spellweaver, but the red was distinctive on its own, and too many people knew her. It might be that knowing people was the only thing that had kept them from being tracked down on the road before - with any luck, most people who'd recognise her description would dismiss the idea of her being a spellweaver. Or maybe, like Meredi, cover it up on purpose, despite the penalties.

"A few reasons," Gwydion said, watching them both intently. "We don't mean either of you harm, to begin with. We just have a few questions for you."

"What if we don't want to answer them?" Leolin's voice was sharp, his gaze darting between the three spellweavers facing them.

Gwydion shrugged. "Then we won't force you to. But there is one question I would especially like an answer to. It's a very simple one. Are you going to the City?"

Órlaith froze. So did Leolin.

And after that, there was no use in trying to lie, or cover up their reactions, or make something up. Gwydion and his coterie had seen that pause, that moment of panic. They knew.

Gwydion nodded.

"I would suggest you reconsider," he said. "It's not so kind a place as it might seem from the stories. In fact, I'd say it's a crueller place than you might have ever imagined."

"And who are you to claim that?" Leolin asked, eyes narrowed. "When every tale of the City tells us differently, why should we believe you, a man who's cornered us and outnumbered us on the road rather than speak to us alone?"

He had a point - even though Leolin and Órlaith probably couldn't have stood up to Gwydion alone, it said something that he'd brought two others with him, making it three against two. Three trained spellweavers, if Órlaith's suspicions were correct, against two barely-trained ones. Órlaith could use her magic, yes, but she'd never fought with it. And Leolin... no matter what the magehunters had taught him, Órlaith doubted he had trained against other spellweavers. Too much risk of damaging the merchandise, probably.

"I'm someone who can offer you another option," Gwydion said. His tone was neutral, not pleading or coercing or suggestive. He said it like it really was just another option, as calmly as a baker telling a patron the types of bread available that day. Even though, just a moment ago, he'd been telling them how terrible the City was.

Leolin laughed, a short, harsh sound.

"Another option," he mocked, and turned to Órlaith. "Another - Órlaith, are you hearing the same thing I am? Because I can tell you what another option means."

Órlaith kept her eyes on the three spellweavers. If they were going to attack, she wasn't going to miss it. There might not be much she could do, but she could at least throw up a shield for long enough that they could bolt. Aelis and Cian could be fast, when they wanted to be, and none of the spellweavers' horses looked speedy.

"It's the same thing I've heard before," Leolin went on, glaring at Gwydion. "The exact same thing I've said before, when I had to. When I was younger, before I knew how to fight back. You belong to magehunters, don't you?"

Órlaith gasped. Was that - she hadn't realised that was what Leolin had been getting at. But then why would she? Leolin knew what techniques magehunters used. He'd know, better than she would, if this was a tactic that they liked.

"That's not -" Gwydion began, brow furrowing, but Leolin cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.

"Don't lie to me. I know how they do it - pick the ones who look well-fed, well-looked-after. Then send them out to offer spellweavers a better option than hiding all their lives, only they don't tell them the better option is slavery. You disgust me." By the end, Leolin was nearly panting, shaking so hard Órlaith could feel it where Aelis and Cian had drifted closer together. She wasn't sure how much of it was anger, and how much of it was fear.

Gwydion regarded them for a long moment. Then he sighed.

"I can see I'm not going to convince you, am I." He shook his head. "Well. That's unfortunate. It truly is. I'd wanted - well." He raised a hand, very slowly. "However, I'm afraid I can't let you go to the City. Even if you don't want to accept my offer."

"So you're going to kill us." Órlaith didn't know how her voice didn't shake.

Gwydion shook his head. "Certainly not. I'm simply going to, well. Imprison you, unfortunately. It won't be for too long, if all goes to plan, and you'll be treated well -"

"They're flanking us," Órlaith said sharply, even as the two other spellweavers nudged their horses forwards, blocking off any chance of escape. "Leolin, on my mark."

"Wait -"

"Trust me!" she insisted, reaching within herself, drawing up from a well of power she rarely touched - and then reaching out, as well, seizing what energy she could. Nothing that would kill - at worst, the plants would wilt for a few days before recovering. But with everything, it was more than enough for what she planned.

"Go!" she cried, and kicked Aelis into a canter that turned swiftly into a gallop, even as she gathered the power, pulled it tight into a knot till it felt like her chest would burst - and let it go.

Everything went bright, bright white, and it was all Órlaith could do to cling onto Aelis. She hoped Leolin had followed; she hoped Gwydion hadn't. She didn't have the energy to spare to check either. The moment she'd let go of her magic, it was as if she'd been running for days without sleep or food, as if she'd - oh.

Dimly, Órlaith realised that she might have pushed herself a little too far.

That was the last thought she had before she slumped onto Aelis' neck, unconscious.

---

When Órlaith woke, it was dark.

Where was she? What - then she remembered. The waystation, Gwydion. Her magic, which would explain why her head was pounding so badly. Had they made it? Had they gotten away from Gwydion? Or...

"Órlaith?"

She could have cried in relief.

"Leolin?" she asked, glancing around and hissing in pain as daggers shot through her skull. "Where - what -"

"We're safe," he said, and she heard rustling. A moment later, a tiny magelight flickered into being on the tip of Leolin's forefinger. It was just enough to illuminate his haggard, exhausted face. Órlaith doubted she looked much better. "We're safe, we got away - I haven't lit a fire, in case they spotted it. How are you feeling?"

Órlaith considered that for a moment. One of the caravan elders had taught her a little healing magic - not much, Órlaith had never had the knack for it. All she could really do was check someone's health. But she did that now, hoping it wasn't a bad idea after using so much magic so quickly.

The little thread of energy trickled down through her limbs like ice water in summer, simultaneously refreshing and sharp. Órlaith grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut.

A moment later, she opened them again, and sighed.

"I feel terrible," she said honestly. "But I'll be fine - it's just magical exhaustion, nothing serious. It's been a long time since that happened, though."

"No surprise it would happen after that," Leolin muttered, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "Órlaith, what was that? It - I've never seen anything like that before. Even in the fighting rings. There was so much power, and it came out of nowhere."

"Not nowhere," Órlaith disagreed, barely remembering in time not to shake her head. "It came from everywhere. We were in a forest, there was plenty of energy to go around. I wouldn't normally do that, but it was an emergency." She couldn't help the faint defensiveness in her tone; she knew the dangers of drawing on the energy around her like that, she knew what could happen if things went wrong. That was why she'd been careful. Unless something had happened after she passed out.

"Leolin," she said, swallowing. "Leolin, what - what happened after I passed out? Was everything okay? I didn't - I didn't draw too much energy?"

Leolin stared at her, his expression hard to read in the dim magelight. Finally, he sighed.

"Of course that's what you'd be worried about," he murmured. "Órlaith, of all the spellweavers I've ever met, I think you're the only one who could do something like that and then be afraid that you'd hurt someone with it."

Or something, Órlaith didn't want to go around killing plants carelessly either. But before she could point that out, Leolin continued.

"I didn't see any damage to the forest," he said. "But Gwydion and his lot... the man next to him was knocked off the horse, and the horse spooked." Leolin looked away. "I don't know if he was all right or not. Gwydion and the woman stayed with him - their horses bolted as well. Aelis and Cian are fine, they're just over there - Aelis stopped once she realised you weren't holding on any more." He swallowed, shaking his head. "Órlaith, once I realised you'd passed out - that was terrifying. It - you'd gone from this incredible magic to hanging off the saddle. I thought you might be dead, before I got to you."

Órlaith winced.

That was... a lot to process.

Had she killed someone with her magic? Even indirectly? Maybe even directly - Leolin hadn't gone into detail, and if it had been her magic that had made the man fall, who was to say he'd even still been alive when he hit the ground?

And Leolin had thought - well. At least Aelis had stopped, presumably before Órlaith fell off. Otherwise she might well have been dead. No matter how much you trusted a horse, you still didn't want their hooves anywhere near your head. Or to be on the ground with no control over them.

"I didn't mean to kill him," she said, her voice very small. "I - not with magic. Not like that."

"Órlaith..." Leolin sighed. "I've killed with magic before. You know that, right? I - I told you, didn't I?"

"You did," Órlaith said. "But it's not..."

"If you try and say it's different for me because I didn't have a choice, when you didn't have a choice back there-" Leolin started, and Órlaith raised a hand to stop him. Her head hurt, and she could barely think straight.

"It's not that," she said. "It's..." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to force them into the shape of words. "It was an accident. And... and that means I didn't have control of it. I didn't choose to kill him or not. I was just... careless."

They were both quiet for a while after that. Leolin's expression, what she could see of it, looked troubled.

"Just because it might have been an accident doesn't mean you were careless," he said eventually, not looking at her. "You did what you could to get us out of there. Careless would be if you were playing around, like we were back when we first met, and that hurt someone. This is different."

Órlaith wasn't sure if she was convinced or not. But she was too tired and her head hurt too much to think about it any more.

"Can we stay here?" she asked instead. "I need to sleep more - just sleep this time, not unconsciousness," she added. "I was always taught it was the best way to treat magical exhaustion." It made sense - all magical exhaustion really was was your body and mind being drained, stripped of energy it should have had, and maybe a little charred from channelling energy that it wasn't meant to. Rest and food would restore that energy, and give the body what it needed to heal any damage that had resulted. Anything more severe... well. Órlaith was glad it wasn't more severe, because then she'd be in a coma, and she had no idea what either of them would do then.

"It should be safe," Leolin said. "I took us into the woods, and - we kept going, once you passed out. I managed to sort of tie you onto the saddle, and Aelis let me lead her from Cian." Órlaith blinked in surprised. Normally Aelis hated following, to the point where she'd never been put as anything but the lead horse on any caravan. It just wasn't worth the time and upset it would have taken to force her to accept following, not when they had plenty of other horses who would follow happily enough.

"After that," Leolin went on, "we just... kept walking. Right up until sundown. I remembered what you'd said, I made sure they both had chances to eat and drink and rest, as well. But for the most part, we just kept moving. I didn't want to risk Gwydion catching up with us." He shrugged. "I have no idea where we are now, so I was hoping you would recognise it in the morning."

"Hopefully," Órlaith said. "Even if I don't, I can probably guess at it on the map. There's not too many places we could end up, and I know how to read the sun and stars to work it out as well." She grimaced. "Maybe not the stars tonight, though. The sun tomorrow, and if that's not enough, we can wait til tomorrow night."

"Of course," Leolin said. "If - would it be safe to wake you up, if we do end up needing to move?" He shook his head. "When - all day, you wouldn't wake up, Órlaith. No matter what I tried - I thought about trying magic, if you hadn't woken by tomorrow. I don't know."

"Don't do that," Órlaith said, memories of horrific warnings rising to the forefront of her mind. "Definitely don't do that. No healing magic unless you're trained for it, and I can't train you - I can barely do anything. If something did go badly wrong, go to -" She hesitated. Who could he go to? Who could either of them go to, really? Most village and town healers could handle a simple case of magical exhaustion - it wasn't hugely uncommon in children. But a severe case, and in a spellweaver... That was a different situation. Both because of how much more magic it took to exhaust a spellweaver, and therefore how much more damage could be done, and because there was no way to be sure that the healer wouldn't hand them over to magehunters as soon as they were conscious again. Or even before, for the more unscrupulous healers.

"Exactly," Leolin said. "There's nobody we can go to."

"If it got that bad, then we'd have to go to a village or town healer," Órlaith said firmly. "Maybe - maybe not for something like this. If something like this happened again, and either of us didn't wake up for, uh..." She searched her sluggish mind for a number; she'd been told this, she knew she had, but the memories were slipping through her grasp like eels. She was too tired for this. "Three days, I think? Longer if the unconscious person can drink, but don't try it unless you know how." That could kill someone, too - water in the lungs, or choking, or any number of other ways. "For that, or for some kind of injury, then we'd have to go to a healer. But if it's less time than that..."

It was dangerous, honestly. If you were unconscious for more than a day after exhausting yourself like that, the chances grew steadily higher that your body might begin to consume itself in a desperate attempt to recover its energy. But what choice did they have?

"I need to eat," Órlaith said, frowning. "Before I sleep. It's safer than not."

Leolin pressed a few pieces of dried meat into her hand, and Órlaith choked them down, tough as they were. A moment later there was a waterskin in her hand, too, and she murmured her thanks as she drank.

"Could I wake you, if I had to?" Leolin asked, and Órlaith remembered the whole point of that conversation.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll only be asleep this time. It's better if I rest more, but..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. You need to rest as well."

Leolin shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "A night will be fine. I can doze, I'll still be aware enough. And the horses would let us know, too - they're as on edge as I am. Rest for as long as you can. Just in case you need to do that again."

"Gods, I hope not," Órlaith muttered.

---

The next morning, Leolin looked absolutely exhausted, but Órlaith felt far better. There was still a faint ache behind her eyes, but it was ignorable compared to the stabbing pain of the night before. It would take a few more days for her to fully recover, and longer before she'd dare try anything like that again, but she was well enough to get back on the move.

First, though, she insisted on Leolin taking a nap. Just for a couple of hours, she told him, otherwise he'd be falling asleep in the saddle. Eventually he agreed, and though she was tempted to let him sleep longer, Órlaith knew that they needed to get moving. There was no telling if Gwydion had begun to follow them again, or if anyone else might be following them. She hadn't forgotten Gwydion's words, the warning - their description was out there. People knew to look for them. The little villages and towns they'd planned to skirt around or pass through might not have gotten that information yet, but they might have. And, more importantly, any waystation they visited would have heard the news. Órlaith was almost certain of that; too many travellers passed through waystations, and where there were travellers, there was news. Or gossip, as the case may be.

So she woke Leolin after only two hours, as she'd promised. He didn't seem much better, but it would have to do for now. Órlaith had already tacked up the horses, and they stood quiet and ready to go. Both of them mounted, and they were off.

Their travel that day was quiet. Both of them were tired, and both of them had one eye on their surroundings, wary of who might come for them next. Órlaith had looked at the map, and they had actually followed the route she'd originally intended, probably through a combination of luck and there only being so many roads to follow. That was both good and bad - good in that they hadn't lost much time, bad in that it meant they could be more easily tracked. If Gwydion knew where the City was, or where it was claimed to be... There were only so many different ways to approach it, and Órlaith had picked one of the more straightforward ones.

When they paused for lunch and time out of the sun that day, Órlaith posed a question to Leolin - keep going and hope they weren't being followed, or change the route?

"Why did you pick that one?" Leolin asked.

Órlaith grimaced.

"Our supplies," she said. "We don't really have enough to even take that route, let alone any of the others. I'd planned that we could buy more from waystations, but now we know that's risky..."

"Only if we have to," Leolin agreed. "So we have to stay with this route."

Órlaith nodded. "That, or risk being caught by going to waystations. Any other route, we'd need to visit more waystations along the way, too. This way, we have plenty of forage for the horses, since we'd be staying in fields and forests mostly. Other routes are rockier, or cross through farmland."

They agreed to stick with the route they'd originally planned, and pick up the pace as much as possible. Before, travelling had been enjoyable, despite the reason for it, at least to Órlaith. Now, it was exhausting. Not a night went past without a watch; it ended up that both of them got barely half a night's sleep each, making them irritable and on-edge. The fact that they were constantly paranoid about an attack didn't help, either.

Despite, or perhaps because, of that, they made far better time than they had before. Most of the day was spent riding, right up until it was too dark to be safe for the horses; then, after a night of disturbed sleep, they would be up at dawn to do it all over again. The end result, apart from both of them being exhausted, was that they were travelling nearly twice as fast as before, simply because of how much more time they spent on the road. There were no more long breaks for lunch and to avoid the afternoon sun, no more leisurely stays at waystations, just constant movement.

It worked, though. Neither of them had seen any sign of Gwydion, or of anyone else who might be a threat to them. They seemed to be as safe as they could be.

Of course, that just made them both more nervous.

It was late afternoon when they slowed to a stop outside of Dewhallow. It had been less than a week since they'd run into Gwydion. And now they were here - the last bastion of civilisation before they set out into the wilderness where the City supposedly was, according to their map.

After a brief discussion, they decided to take it a little bit easier - they didn't know how much hardship they might face searching for the City, after all. So they rented an inn room, and stabled the horses - Órlaith paid a little extra for them to be treated especially well. Cian and Aelis had gone above and beyond for them, and they deserved some special treatment. Besides, Órlaith hadn't told Leolin yet - but she knew that they were going to have to say goodbye to the horses soon. They wouldn't be able to take them on their search for the City, not if Órlaith was reading the map right. Where they were going, there was nothing for humans to eat and drink, let alone horses.

She would find someone kind, Órlaith promised herself. Someone who would take good care of both horses, take the time to understand their foibles. She'd ask around, figure out the best person to sell them to. Make sure she avoided anyone who might mistreat them, or work them too hard, or sell them on again when they got old.

For now, though, Órlaith went and joined Leolin in the inn for a well-deserved supper.