Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) (35 page)

There’s little that remains of them, now. Bits of tattered velvet drapes, a torn crest. I pause at the crushed settee where Ornis lounged, as a golden glow catches my eye from beneath a torn pillow. Moving it aside, I find the stone tablet, its golden script glowing and fading so quickly that I can barely read it. When I do catch a glimpse, I realize it’s coming through in the Mage’s language. I watch the curling lines ebb and flow as Flitt and Twig join me to peer over my shoulder.

“It’s going so fast,” Flitt whispers. “What are they saying?”

“Not yet sunset,” Twig reads aloud, “but we cannot hold them much longer. The effort drains us. We lost another of our number just now. The well is nearly dry. Please, let us release them. We cannot hold on. Please.”

“Who is it?” Flitt hovers close to the slab. “They sound desperate.”

“It’s the Sunteri fae,” I whisper. I see them clearly in my memory, huddling around the roots of the trees, hunched over their own slab, hissing over their shoulders at Elliot and me as we near them.

“We cannot hold much longer,” Twig reads aloud. I’m so drawn in by the golden lines that I don’t notice Rian until he settles onto the settee and leans against me to reach across to the shining surface of the slab. I wonder at the now smooth, unmarked skin of his neck and face as he uses his finger to scrawl upon it. Twig reads his writing as the words form and fall away into the polished red surface:

“We have no need of the humans now. Release them and restore yourselves. Guard the Wellspring with your lives. It is yours to protect.” We watch his script fall away into the depths and the reply rise to the surface. “Thank you! Yes! Masters, we will guard it!”

“Masters!” Ember barks over Rian’s shoulder. “Masters! What have the southern fae reduced themselves to, addressing Mages as Masters? Answering to humans?”

“Careful, Ember,” Shush whispers.

“Well!” Flitt says loudly, sending a burst of rainbow prisms dancing over the walls to divert our attention from Shush and Ember’s exchange. “Will you look at that?” She points outside, where Iren sits with its head tipped back. A thick, steady stream of golden energy rises from its mouth up into the bright blue sky. “All of that was in you, Rian, and now it’s going back to the Wellspring!” I turn to Rian, who looks as exhausted as I feel.

“I’m glad to be rid of it,” he laughs with relief. “I don’t wish that on my worst enemy, having to own so much power. I’m content to stay in the Sixteenth Circle for now.” I graze my fingers along his pale jawline where the Mark once swirled, and he leans forward and kisses me. “You were brilliant,” he murmurs in my ear, warming my cheeks.

“We’re not done yet,” I say, remembering the battle still being fought outside. Flitt settles on my shoulder as I push myself wearily to my feet and Rian tucks the slab into his bag.

“Azi?” My mother’s voice echoes into the ruined keep amid a sudden uproar of cheers and applause from the fairies gathered outside. I lunge toward the edge of the keep ruins to see her making her way up the mountain slope among them, her silver plate mail gleaming bright in the midday sun. She pauses when she sees me, her hand reaching instinctively to her sword. At first I’m confused, but then I imagine how I must look to her in the strange, shimmering blue armor gifted to me by Iren, standing in the rubble with my white cloak whipping around me. It’s only when Rian comes to stand beside me that she seems to realize who I am.

“Mum!” I cry as I stumble down the slope to her. We meet halfway and crash together in a tight embrace as the cheers rise to a deafening roar. Through my tears I watch the crowd of countless fairies in every color and shape gather. The mass of them stretches far up into the sky and deep along the golden wheat field all the way to the forest’s edge. I stare in disbelief at the sheer number of them. I had no idea that Kythshire was home to so many. The sight is dazzling, and the sudden realization of how many creatures we fought to protect today overwhelms me. My knees wobble, and my chest aches with the pounding of my heart. Beside us on the slope of the Crag, Iren’s great mouth closes as the stream of energy ends. It tips its head forward again and surveys us all.

“Iren! Iren! Iren!” The mass of fairies chants and cheers and dances wildly. Their energy is infectious, and I find myself grinning and laughing in my mother’s arms as Rian comes to join us with Flitt and the others trailing close behind.

“Six there were, and none remain,” Iren bows to us. “The battle is won.” Its great eye slides past us to the keep above. Rian, Mum and I turn, and the first thing I see is a flash of red hair and the swish of a blue cloak. Slowly, other figures begin to emerge from the darkness and appear at the crumbled edge of the keep wall. Bryse is easiest to spot in his now badly dented plate, and Cort is at his side, his twin swords drawn and ready. Brother Donal is next with Dacva peering out from behind him. Then comes Uncle Gaethon, his tattered robes whipping around him as he stares at the gathering with an expression of wonder and disbelief.

Mya’s voice carries over us before we see her, her fingers idly strumming her lute as the fox comes to sit at her side. Her song lifts me up, its power energizing and healing me. I search the darkness desperately as they arrive one by one, and I know my mother sees him before I do when she slips from my arms and starts clambering up the rocky slope, crying his name.

“Benen! Benen!” She struggles in her heavy armor, and Flitt, Twig, Ember, and Shush rush to lift her up to where my father stands with his arms outstretched.

“Lisabella!” His voice cracks as she falls into his arms. In unison they slide each other’s helms off and drop them to the ground. My father holds her close, and they stare deep into one another’s eyes in a way that plainly shows a hundred words silently spoken between them in an instant. Then he bends his head to hers, and they lose themselves in a sweet, deep kiss.

Mya suggests that we set up temporary quarters in some of the lower, intact rooms of the keep and get a good night’s sleep after the hard-fought battle. We settle easily back into our usual routine. Rian and Uncle go off together to whisper secretly while Mum, Da, and I prepare the room we’ll sleep in with Mya, Elliot and Rian. I smile to myself as I help Mum off with her armor and she does the same for me. The quilted gambeson and trousers beneath the suit that Iren gifted me is just as finely made, and quite comfortable. We make up our beds and build a fire in the small hearth. When the work is done, Da settles beside my armor to admire its craftsmanship while Mum brushes the dust and knots from my hair. Bryse’s laugh booms from the room beside ours followed by Donal and Cort’s. Further away, Mya’s song drifts along as she and Elliot scout the remains of the keep.

My heart sings with joy to know we’re all together and safe again, and as its beat quickens, the pain I’ve come to expect follows. I press my hand to my chest and Mum pauses the brush mid-stroke.

“Sweeting? Are you hurt?” She rests a gentle hand on my shoulder and Da looks up with concern.

“Last night,” I pause. Was it really just last night that Viala was stripped? No wonder I’m so exhausted. So much has happened. “Last night Viala struck me with a spell. I was healed, I thought, but I still have pain from time to time.” Mum rubs my shoulder and exchanges a look with Da.

“I’ll get Donal,” Da says as he sets down my glove.

Brother Donal is of course trailed closely by Dacva. He does his best to avoid me while Donal looks me over, which is just fine by me. While we were making up the room, Da recounted some of their battle against Redemption and the Sorcerer and his skeletons. He laid on the praise of Dacva’s newfound healing talents thickly for my benefit, even describing a moment when Dacva saved him from bleeding out by healing a deep gash while Da and Bryse were locked in battle with Dar. Still, it’s going to be awhile before I can accept his change in allegiance.

Bryse and Cort mill just outside of the door and a hush falls over us as Donal administers to me. He describes the wound in detail to Dacva, who listens like a dedicated student.

“The spell was meant to kill,” he says. “But it was stopped by some ward so it only affected the heart. It’s been healed but not completely. Imagine a fist of energy clamped around the heart, squeezing. Of course one would notice it more during moments of fear or joy. Any time the heart would beat faster. See here.” He takes Dacva’s hand and moves to place it on my chest, but I roll away quickly in protest. Accepting him is one thing, but allowing him to touch me is quite another. Outside in the hall, Bryce growls.

“Right,” Donal says with a sigh. “Very well, I’ll do it myself, Azi. Come, now.” He pats my shoulder and I roll back, and it’s not long after he places a gentle hand over my heart that I drift to sleep.

I wake just after dawn to a room empty of all but Rian, who is snoring next to his parents’ unoccupied bedrolls. Careful not to wake him, I pad across the room to sit at his side and take his hand. The conversation next door drifts into the room, and I listen quietly as I settle back against the wall.

“We can split the troops in the meantime,” Da says. “Half here, half to guard the Pass.”

“All of ‘em should guard the Pass, and even that won’t be enough,” Bryse replies. “No reason to leave anyone here. That stone guard can handle any threat.”

“Right,” Cort says. “The main concern is keeping the banished at bay.”

“But with the Keep unguarded and the border of the Outlands open... the banished could easily rally, win against the small number of guard posted, and then claim the keep in the time it takes us to petition the king for more coverage.”

“What are they talking about?” Flitt whispers in my ear and I yelp, startled. “Sorry, jumpy!” She giggles and crunches into a sugar cube as she settles onto my shoulder.

“This keep used to guard the border to the Outlands, where Cerion sends its banished. But the Sorcerers moved it, and now there’s no protection to keep the criminals where they belong.” I tilt my head and smile at her. “Where have you been?”

“Sleeping,” she takes another bite and my own stomach growls as she chews. “So if the keep stays here, then the bad people might come, too?” she asks, reaching into her pouch to pull out a dingy looking cube and offer it to me. I’m so hungry I accept it and pop it into my mouth.

“Possibly,” I reply as the sweet sugar melts on my tongue. “We’re not really sure how many of them are left. The Outlands are a harsh place. But that means anyone who does survive it is smart, strong, and very dangerous. How are the others? Twig, Shush, Ember?”

“Fine. Dancing at the Ring. Scree wants to see you and Stinky.” I give her a look and she ducks and grins. “All right, Rian. And your Mum, too. Will you come?”

“Rian needs to sleep. He’s been through a lot. Can it wait a little while?”

“Uh huh. They’ll be dancing ‘til midday, anyway.” She takes another bite of her cube and Mya’s voice drifts in over her crunching.

“We’re talking in circles,” she sighs. “It might be best if we remain here and station the troops at the border while we send a report to His Majesty and wait for instructions.”

“You’re staying here? We’ll be neighbors!” Flitt pats my neck excitedly. I sigh and look down at Rian. As much as I would love to remain so close to Kythshire, I was really looking forward to going home with my family and getting back to our lives. I miss Mouli’s cooking and Luca’s warm smile, and the smell of the salty air through my open window. I miss waking in the morning and chatting with Rian through the circle hatch, and sparring with Bryse and Cort in the training square. If we stay here in the keep, it could be for weeks.

“I don’t see any way around it. The Outlands are too much of a threat.” I sigh. “The others are right, we can’t just leave the border unguarded. Unless...” I turn to her. “If the keep was moved with magic, it can be moved back again the same way, can’t it?” Flitt’s eyes go wide.

“It would take a lot of magic,” she replies. “Since it was done by Mages, no, Sorcerers, we couldn’t do it ourselves without almost draining the,” she whispers almost inaudibly, “you know. That’s what the dancing is about. Lots of arguing at the circle today about how to get rid of the keep. But there might be another way. Can you think of one?” It takes me a moment before I remember the promise made to me by Scree.

“Flitt, do wishes drain the Wellspring? True Wishes?” I watch her light sparkle brightly as our eyes meet, and she shakes her head with a grin.

“No, Azi. They don’t.” Her gossamer wings flutter as she hops up to hug my face and give me a sticky, sloppy kiss right on the cheek.

I wash up and breakfast on some stale nut bread and dried fruit while we wait for Rian to wake. The small window in our room is more of an arrow slit, and I stand on tiptoe as I chew and peer out of it. Our room faces the north side of the keep, where our guild’s battle took place. Little evidence of the fight remains. Da said that Brother Donal and Dacva worked hard to heal everyone during the fight. Only three of the King’s Guard were lost. They’ll be given a heroes’ burial at home.

The rest of the king’s men are working at disposing of the bones of the sentries by way of an enormous pyre.

“Burning death itself,” Flitt sneezes. “How revolting.”

“What else can they do with them, though?” I argue as I take in the rest of the scene. Further to the east, another group of soldiers guards bundles of sleeping men wrapped in their own orange and red cloaks. I count four all together, one of them as massive as Bryse. “Retribution,” I whisper to Flitt. “That’s our rival guild, the ones who betrayed us. Uncle must have sent them to sleep.”

“Will they burn them, too?” Flitt asks as she peers out curiously.

“No, they’ll most likely have a trial.” I look for evidence of the necromancers, but the battleground is already swept clean. Rian wakes and comes to join us, hugging me from behind and resting his chin on my unoccupied shoulder to watch out the window.

“Cleanup day,” he murmurs. “Those are the unsung heroes of battle. Imagine having that job.” He rubs his eyes and kisses me just below my ear. “I’ll be back.” As he leaves, Mum slips in, looking exasperated.

“They’re never going to come to an agreement. Oh, good morning, Flitt,” she smiles and Flitt sparkles brightly in reply. “Good morning, my darling. Are you feeling better?” She asks me with a hug.

“I am,” I lean into her. “Mum, they want to see us at the Ring. You, me, and Rian.”

“Yes, I wanted to go there anyway, to say goodbye. Now that they have the North Guardian back, they won’t be needing me. But I do wish I knew a way to fix this mess with the keep.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I say, turning back to the window. “I think I have it figured out. But we’ll need to have everyone cleared out of here before we go back to Kythshire.”

“Would you just listen to me?” Bryse booms from next door, stirring up another round of shouting.

“If that’s the case, then you’d better tell them,” Mum says. “Before it comes to blows.”

It takes a moment for them to stop shouting long enough to notice me standing in the doorway of the makeshift meeting room. Rian joins us again as they settle down, and I clear my throat nervously.

“Do you have something to say, Azi?” Mya’s usually peaceful voice sounds ragged and tired as she folds her hands on the table. Beside her, Elliot sits with his arms crossed and his head tipped against the back of the chair, sound asleep. It’s strange to see him in human form again, but now that I know his secret I can certainly pick out the obvious foxlike qualities in his hair and in the shape of his face. I wonder if he’s on a journey right now, as he sleeps among his arguing guild mates.

“Can you have the area cleared out by noon?” I ask. “I have a way to move the keep back to the Pass.” I look from one of them to the other, expecting an argument.

“How?” Bryse is the first to ask. A dozen replies formulate in my mind and I try to speak each of them in turn, but I can’t. Finally, I simply shake my head.

“I just have a way,” I say. I want to tell them everything, but I honestly can’t. It bothers me. Secrets still feel like lies to me, but I do understand the importance of keeping the fairies safe. To my surprise, it’s Uncle who stands first.

“If Azaeli has a way, then let her do it.” Around the table, one by one, the others stand in agreement. There’s an underlying air of reverence about them as they look at me that makes me a little uneasy.

“I agree,” Mya sighs with relief as she rises. “I was about to start pulling my hair out.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Thank you, Azi. We’ll have it cleared out by noon.”

***

As soon as we reach the Ring, we’re swept up in the dancing which is just as chaotic and wonderful as it has ever been. It seems as though so many more have come to join in once we arrive, it’s a wonder we can maneuver at all around the edge of the mushrooms. The music is lively and upbeat, and I catch a bit of Mya’s melody from yesterday woven through it as I go around and around with Mum’s hand in my left one and Rian’s in my right.

Flitt’s light plays around us as the breeze blows my hair loose from its braid, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard for so long. Gradually the music slows, and with it the dancing. In the soft, grassy center of the Ring, Crocus’s blossom falls open, this time to reveal shades of deep blue fringed with gold. A hush falls over the massive crowd of fairies as she smiles at the gathering.

Above us on the mushrooms, Ember is seated to our left and Shush rests on his own cap to our right. Beneath him, I recognize several of the wind fairies we rescued from the keep. In fact, many of them have clustered around Rian to pat his back and shake his hand and offer their thanks in the form of tiny gifts. As Crocus begins to speak, he turns to me and raises his present-laden arms with a bemused grin.

“We call forth Lisabella Hammerfel of Cerion.” Crocus gestures gracefully to Mum, and I turn my attention back to the center of the Ring as my mother goes to stand before her. “Lisabella,” Crocus smiles. “To you we bequeath first the title Scourge of the Shadow Twists, and second the title Protector of the North.”

“Thank you,” Mum smiles. Crocus nods and continues.

“Do you wish to remain with us in Kythshire, or return to your own in Cerion?”

“As fond as I have grown of your people and your lands,” Mum gestures warmly to the assembly. “I long to return to my own home. If you are ever in need of me again, though, I shall honor my family’s vow.” Crocus nods again, and Mum steps back to join us.

“Rian Eldinae of the Academy of Cerion, we call you now.” Rian squeezes my hand before he lets go to step into the Ring. “Our muses will sing of your strength, honor, and selflessness forever more. You held strong when the power proved too much, and you did not allow it to consume you or lead you astray. In the face of great evil, you turned away from temptation and helped those who were too weak to help themselves. You have shown us through your actions that some Mages can, in fact, be trusted. To you, we bestow the titles Windsaver, Oathkeeper, Arcane Guardian, and Steward of the Wellspring. You remain ever welcome within our borders, and we thank you.” She dips into a bow and Rian does the same, and then the ground rumbles loudly as Scree pushes through the soil.