Tales of the Five Kingdoms

Gillwyn Forester (Part One)

"Whatever you must do, see it done," her pa always said. "Keep the secret. Stay hidden. Never let our neighbors learn what you are."

Gillwyn heard him say those words often, more than any others. Her pa would say it to his five daughters every morning before chores began. He would say it again when they came together at midday for lunch. He would say it one last time before they all went to their beds. Pa said it again and again until Gillwyn could feel them engraved upon her heart.

Other than that, Gillwyn and her family were indistinguishable from any other in the village. Albeit one with more daughters than usual, but still just another Althandi family.

They resided on the outskirts of Moorhaven, a growing town of just over a thousand. The land was near the border with Melcia, where the steaming moors of the north mingled with the deep forests of rural Althandor. Moorhaven was within the Senwood, one of the three great forests of the kingdom. Pa said it was closer to jungle than forest and that Moorhaven was a bright point of civilization's light in the midst of it.

Gillwyn's father would know better than anyone about the Senwood. He was a Goodman Forester, a man of the countryside and a woodsman. Gillwyn liked to believe she would follow him into the family profession. She loved being Gillwyn Forester and didn't want her name to change.

The village was fifty leagues north of the capital. One hundred and fifty miles, Gillwyn amended.

These new measurements the nobility were pushing on the goodfolk were counterintuitive. A league was an easy hour's walk. But a mile? What was that? Who thought in such bizarre ways? The sort who rode in contraptions pushed about by steam engines, most like. Maybe a mile was how far a train could go in a minute.

On sunny afternoons, the incredible towers of the City of Althandor were clearly visible over the horizon. They rose out of the hazy mists cloaking the Spired City like twigs poked into a ball of cotton.

Reclining on a bare hillside above the Senwood's canopy, Gillwyn lay on her back with her hands folded behind her head. She didn't have her shawl with her, uncaring of the immodesty of going about with her long, black hair uncovered. Gillwyn even left her hair loose and free, and the villagers could just gasp and sputter for all she cared. It wasn't like anyone would come this far from Moorhaven. She chewed on a stalk of grass, the fuzzy end bobbing along with her chomping, and her eyes focused on the distant spires of the capital. After picking out the tallest she could see, Gillwyn was convinced it was the central spire of the Palace of Towers.

As she lazed through the afternoon, listless and content, Gillwyn wondered if the Highest King was in his throne room at that moment. It amused her to think that Cathis the Algara was even now itching between his shoulder blades because she was looking in his direction.

A powerful yawn took over her entire body. She stretched her arms and legs out as far as she could make them and twisted from side to side. It was a rapturous feeling. After a day helping out at House Sheskal's cotton field, Gillwyn was exhausted, and her tired muscles needed a thorough stretching.

If she wasn't careful, she was liable to fall asleep on her favorite hillside. The breeze was just the right amount of breezy, a few starlings were chirping amicably to one another, and the grass felt near as soft as a down mattress.

A faint scent tickled her nose, sharp and acrid. It was there in one sniff and gone the next, just long enough to make Gillwyn wrinkle her nose in displeasure.

She'd caught this scent before, infrequent and unfamiliar, over the past several days. Not only near the Senwood, but also in the village. Gillwyn hadn't the faintest notion what it came from, and reminded herself once again to ask pa if there was a sickness spreading among the trees as of late.