Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (18 page)

I’m excited to ride the cygnet again. Saesa is, too. Raefe isn’t, though.

“You be careful,” he says to Saesa. “Hold on with both hands, all right?”

“I will,” she says, and hugs him. “Don’t get sick again.”

He hugs her back. Seeing them together reminds me of someone from my past. Someone I miss. I think of red blooms and a fan of black hair. I wonder if I’ll see her again.

“Take care of her, Tib,” Raefe smiles at me. Gives me a hand to shake. I do.

“I will,” I promise. “Don’t worry.”

Saesa slips her hand into mine as the cygnet carrying Raefe and Zevlain opens its feathery wings. With a loud cry and a puff of wind, the mount lifts up from the platform and dives away. We watch it go until it’s a tiny white dot in the distance. Saesa’s the first one to break the silence.

“Our turn!” she laughs and runs to Julini, who’s waiting to help her onto her cygnet. Shoel turns to me.

“Are you certain about this, Tib? It isn’t too late. We can bring Raefe back. For Saesa.”

“Say you’re sure.”

Yes, say I’m sure. I am. I say it. Shoel eyes me. I smile at him.

“Very well,” he sighs. “Up you go.” He boosts me onto the cygnet’s back and climbs into the seat behind me. Next to us Saesa is stroking the soft feathers, waiting to go. She waves at me, grinning. White wings spread gracefully and take us up. Soon we’re so high that even the wall is just a thin line. I close my eyes and feel the wind in my hair. I could stay up here, soaring, forever. Up here, I’m safe. Up here, I’m free.

Azi

Rian takes the banner for the ride back to Valleyside. It’s a much quicker journey without the Royal Carriage and the columns of guards to slow our pace. Mya sings a song of speed, and her song gives our horses strength and stamina. We ride hard and cover twice the ground in half of the time. Thankfully, we’re spared Flitt’s constant banter. She sleeps through most of the day tucked under my collar. When we finally stop for the night, we’ve made it all the way to Sorlen River Crossing. The streets are quiet as we ride through the village, which is mostly closed up for the night. I’m relieved that we’ll have no fanfare to welcome us. All of us are hungry for our supper, and we just want to get in where it’s warm.

“That’s half the distance to Valleyside,” Rian says as he helps me down from my horse. “If we ride as hard tomorrow, we can make it there. We could get to Ceras’lain in two days’ time if we end up having to ride. From there, the ride to the other border shouldn’t take long. Another day, maybe.” He rubs a splash of dried mud from my cheek with his finger and draws me for a quick kiss as the stable boy leads our horses away. Behind us, Da clears his throat.

“Oh Benen, let them be,” Mum whispers. “Young love…” she lowers her voice further and I don’t quite catch the rest. They laugh, and Rian takes it as permission to kiss me even longer. I don’t mind.

“In the middle of the street? Really, you two?” Mya calls.

“Clearly, your mother needs to teach mine a thing or two,” Rian murmurs in between kisses.

“Yours is right, though.” I look around. Jac is milling by the door. Everyone else has gone in. The streets are empty and dark. A cold wind whips my hair around my face and I shiver. “Jac’s watching. Let’s go in.”

Rian looks over his shoulder at Jac and then turns back to me. He draws me in even closer and kisses me with such passion that I’m left blushing. Warmth and happiness surge through me from head to toe. I love being this close to Rian, I truly do. I’ve missed it since we’ve been avoiding the Half-Realm. I don’t care that we’re in the middle of the street or who’s watching. When he pulls away, Rian’s eyes dance with mischief.

“Think he caught that one?” he asks with a wink.

“He’d have to be blind not to,” I laugh and take his hand and we try to slip past Jac into the inn, but he nods to us as we near and it’s obvious he wants to talk.

“Master Mage, Lady Knight,” he salutes us casually. “A word?”

“I’m not a Master,” Rian says. “Just Rian is fine.”

“Yes, and Azaeli. Of course.” Jac pulls off his helm and tucks it under his arm.

“No, Lady Knight is good for Azi.” Rian nods matter-of-factly and I nudge him with my elbow and roll my eyes. “What can we do for you, Jac?” Rian asks.

“Oh, no, sir. I’m to serve you, remember?” he says smoothly. He’s careful to keep his attention on Rian and not look at me. I can tell it’s an effort for him.

“Right,” says Rian, entirely unconvinced. His demeanor shifts slightly. He raises his chin in a very uncharacteristic way. Uncle does that, when he’s trying to be stern. I look away to hide my amusement. It’s very unlike Rian to act the way Mages tend to: Haughty and self-important. “Right now, you can help by allowing us to go in and eat our supper before it gets cold.”

“
See?
” Flitt says through a yawn at my shoulder. “
There it is, that jealousy I was talking about. Hmm. What will Stinky do? Will they fight now?”

“
Certainly.” Jac’s eyes catch mine as I turn back to them. My heart skips and I offer him an apologetic smile. When I look away, I’m slightly annoyed at myself. Why do I allow him to affect me that way?

“Come on, Rian…” I tug his hand.

“Oh, go in and rest, Jac,” Rian sighs. “None of us needs a guard.” He pulls me inside without waiting for an answer.

The tavern is richly decorated, warm and welcoming. The great hearth takes up half of the far wall, and the guild has already made themselves at home among its patrons. In the short time since we’ve arrived, Mya has drawn a small crowd with her lute. At a long table beside her, Elliot nods off in his chair. His red hair seems to dance in the firelight as he dozes. Cort and Bryse have found the gamblers. Brother Donal is whispering with the barkeep while Dacva leans half-asleep against the bar with his chin in his hand.

The tavern is surprisingly occupied despite the late hour. The other patrons sprinkled around the dark room look up as we enter. Their interest isn’t on me, but on Rian. It’s rare to see a Mage outside of the city, especially with such a small party. When we had been traveling with the prince and princess, the inns where we stayed had been cleared out for us in advance. Now that our guild is on its own, there’s no need for such measures. Rian and I cross to the others with strangers’ eyes on us the entire time. Even after we sit, they watch us.

The tavern girls are busy laying out a spread for us. At the sight of the food and drink, I realize how famished I am. I drop into a chair beside Mum and Da, who are bent together with their hands twined, whispering. I pour some cider into Rian’s goblet and my own, and I’m so thirsty that I drain it before Rian has a chance to do his spell. As I refill it, he brushes a finger over the lip of his own cup and whispers the spell. The table top rattles softly, and Mum’s goblet tips over. Red wine seeps across the worn wood. She looks at Rian, wide-eyed.

“Did you drink any of that yet, Lisabella?” Rian asks my mum, who shakes her head slowly.

“Good,” Rian says. He reaches across to his mother’s goblet and looks inside. Mya stops playing. The tavern goes quiet as everyone turns to watch our table, which has started up again. It rumbles steadily and my cup tips and spills amber across the wood. Rian catches the flagon and his own cup before they do the same. The lingering taste of the cider I’ve already swallowed goes sour on my tongue. A barmaid rushes to us with rags to mop up Mum’s wine and my cider, which are pooling together along the crevices in the wood and dancing like Elliot’s hair in the firelight.

Rian says something, but his voice is far away. The light is beautiful. It flashes like the orange and yellow flecks in Flit’s diamond. The barmaid wipes it away with her rag like a storm cloud blotting away the sun. I try to fight the strange sensation that spreads through me. It’s like ants, thousands of ants that crawl on my skin. As they crawl I feel light, like I’m floating away. I try to shake it off, try to blink, even, but my body won’t respond.

All around me I’m vaguely aware of my guild mates panicking. Rian is shaking my shoulders. Flitt’s tiny hands bat at my cheek and tug my hair.

“Look at me, Sweeting,” Mum is saying. Da’s voice booms beside her. Flitt is talking, too. Her voice echoes in a faraway part of my mind. I try to reach it, but I can’t. It’s too far away. Brother Donal comes. I feel his healing spread through me. It isn’t working, though. I push myself through the tingling, trying to fight back to them, but my eyes close slowly. I’m drifting away through the Half-Realm. Straight into the Dreaming.

It’s dark until I become aware of the trees. They stretch up into the black sky all around me, their trunks so close together that I have to squeeze myself between them. I push through and I’m aware that I have no armor. Instead, I’m dressed in a scarlet gown that cinches my waist uncomfortably and swirls around my feet, threatening to trip me. I wander, clinging to the rough tree trunks while my eyes grow accustomed to the dark. I’m not afraid. I know if I can just find my way back to the tavern, I’ll be safe. I find the beginning of a path where the brush is worn away and the trees have parted for me, and I follow it. Something compels me forward. I know this is the way I’m meant to go. All around me, the forest is silent. Watching ominously. I’d feel so much better in my armor, with my sword. I wonder if this place is like Kythshire. I wish for my sword and my armor, but they don’t come to me.

Ahead, I see a figure on the path. She’s a woman, wearing the same gown as me and running toward me but making little progress. I speed my pace toward her, and as I near I realize that she’s a Mage. Her golden hair is swept up on top of her head, and her high collar frames her face perfectly before it plunges daringly low. Her skin isn’t pale like a Mage’s, but bronzed by the sun. When I try to call to her, I have no voice. She’s still running toward me, though, looking frightened. I skid to a stop right in front of her, and she mirrors the action. Her blue eyes meet mine, and that’s when I realize it isn’t another woman on the path. It’s my reflection.

I press my hands to the glass and she stares at me. Her lips are painted red, her eyes lined with black. She says something to me. Something desperate and pleading.

“I can’t hear you,” I try to say, but my own voice is mute. A strange notion comes to me. I realize that somehow I’m the reflection and she’s the real me. The true Azaeli. The thought makes me dizzy. She raises a hand and presses it against the glass on her side, against mine. Her lips move again. I pick out certain words, Mage’s words. She’s casting a spell. Between our hands, the mirror cracks. Her eyes flick to the space behind me, and in the mirror’s reflection I see it, a moving shadow. Its shape changes. First it’s the shadow of a man, then a fox-impostor. My reflection pushes against the glass and I pull my hand away just in time to avoid the shards as they shatter and fall to the ground.

Her hand closes around my wrist and she pulls me through to her side.

“Run,” she says, “Go!”

Hearing my own voice this way is very disorienting. I can’t seem to make my feet obey her command until she shoves me and tells me again. I run away from her and risk a glance over my shoulder to see her raise her hands and shout a spell. Lightning shoots from her fingertips toward the shadow. The lightning crashes again and I run faster, away from myself and the shadow, deep into the forest.

The trees twist and move around me, guiding my way as they had before. I know I shouldn’t trust anything here, but I must. I have no choice. There’s nowhere else to go but down the path that they create for me. Behind me the lightning fades away until all I can see are the black forms of tree trunks and the even blacker sky.

I run for what feels like hours down the never-changing, narrow path. Countless times I wish for my armor and my sword. The soft fabric of my gown feels foreign to me as it swirls around my legs; foolish and unprotected. I run as though I’m trying to get someplace. After a while I forget where I’m running to, or what I’m running from. The harder I try to remember, the more my memories elude me.

I slow my pace as dawn breaks in the distance, washing the distant trees in dull lavender. With the light comes clarity. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going, but I know I don’t belong here. I have to find a way out.

The path branches off and I pause at the fork. To my left it’s just trees forever, as it has been. To my right I see my reflection again in the distance through the mist of morning. I start toward it and pause again. It’s an obvious choice. If someone was trying to lure me, to trick me, that’s the choice they’d expect me to make. But if they knew I was clever, they’d anticipate that choice and expect me to go down the other path. I shake my head. Logic was never my strength. I always leave the puzzles to him. His name has slipped my mind for now. I’ll remember it later.

Besides, why do I assume someone is trying to trick me? There’s a reason. A good one. I can’t remember that either, though. Still, deep down I’m cautious and I trust my instincts. I take the left path, away from my reflection. An eerie quiet settles over me as I walk. There are no birds in this forest, no small creatures rustling in the underbrush.

The dim light of dawn lingers. With it comes a thick mist that settles over me. Droplets soak my hair and my gown and weigh me down. I walk endlessly until the woods begin to have a familiar feel to them. I’ve seen this tree with two low branches before, and I’ve passed this one with a knot that looks like a face. That’s when I realize I’ve been going in circles, but for how long?

Exhausted and hopeless, I sink to the ground and hug my knees. I could go back. Back to the other path, to the mirror. Perhaps it wasn’t a trick. Perhaps my reflection could help me again and I could escape this never ending path. But I’ve convinced myself that that way is a trap, and so I sit and think instead. In the quiet, I start to remember things beyond this nightmare.

“Rian!” I whisper. That’s his name. And Flitt. Their faces swirl into my memory and I cling to them. I remember the tavern and the cider, and then some movement in the forest nearby steals away my attention. I turn and squint and see through the mist a flash of red fur and the swish of a white-tipped tail. A fox. He looks at me. His eyes are familiar and bright, not milky like the impostor.

“Elliot!” I jump up and squeeze between the tree trunks. The fox ambles toward me playfully and then bounds away again through gaps between trees so narrow that I have to shimmy between them.

“Wait!” I cry as my gown snags and tears against the rough bark. “I’m coming! Wait!” I yank at the caught fabric and curse. “Let go,” I whisper. “Please!” I stumble forward as the fabric is freed and glance back at the tree in disbelief. I could swear that it leans toward me just slightly, as though bowing. I shake my head and spin, searching for the fox, and see it up ahead through another gap too narrow for me to squeeze through.

“Move, please?” I put a hand on each trunk and the trees bend apart. A rush of power surges through me at the discovery that I can manipulate the forest this way. “Thank you,” I whisper as I pass through the gap.

Elliot is not as accommodating. I call for him to slow down, to wait for me, but he’s in too much of a hurry. As I chase after him, I wish aloud again for my armor and my sword. My gown is cold and wet and too revealing. I feel foreign in it, and I long for the protection and comfort of my own things.

“You don’t need them,” the forest whispers around me.

“Don’t need them.”

“Don’t need them.”

“Not here.”

I spin around to find the source of them, but there are only trees. Even the fox is gone, and everything is still again.

“Please,” I whisper. “Who’s there?”

“We all are. We’re here.” I can pick out the voices. Dozens of tiny whispers that echo in the forest around me and also in my mind.

“Who?” I cry, and my voice is snuffed out by their hisses.

“Shh! He’ll hear! Hurry!” they cry.

“Hurry!”

“Hurry!”

Red fur streaks along the edge of my vision and I spin and chase after it. A touch from my fingers and a whisper bends the tree trunks to my will. Knowing this secret makes the chase much easier. This new power surges through me with such a rush that I can’t help but laugh as I amble through the forest. I can see where the fox is leading me now. All around me the forest is bare and gray except for a curtain of willow fronds that shimmer gold and green ahead. Elliot disappears through them and I crash in behind him.

Everything goes dark again, heavy and desolate. At first I think I’ve made a grave mistake. I turn to leave, but there are no willow fronds. Something grabs at my skirts and chaos erupts.

“
Help us
,” a hundred voices assault my mind, and then I see them. One by one, tiny faces appear in the darkness. They might be fairies if they weren’t so horrid looking. I can see only glimpses. Their eyes are dark and wide, pleading and desperate. Their skin hangs off of their emaciated little bodies. Their wings are stubs at their backs. Still, they hold hope when they look at me, and I understand that I’m all that they have. I’m their only way.

“Please,” they whisper, and my heart bends to them like the tree trunks that parted beneath my fingertips. “Please, help us.”

“She was right behind me. I had her,” a familiar voice echoes through the darkness. “Azi?” it calls. The fox. Elliot.

Cold little hands grip my fingertips, my arms, and my hair.

“Please don’t go. Please help us. Please.”

I don’t belong here. I belong there, out there with the fox. But these creatures need me. They’re desperate. I have to do something.

“How?” I ask them. “How can I help you?” The fox calls me again, but it’s slipping farther away. I can barely hear it anymore. “Who are you?”

“We are the fallen.”

“The fallen.”

“Forgotten.”

“The last.”

“Homeless.”

“Helpless.”

“Nowhere to go.”

“Help us.”

“Help us.”

“How?” I ask as Elliot’s voice fades away, and somehow I know I’ve made my choice. For now, I’m staying here. The fallen creatures cling to me desperately, stroking my hair, whispering their thanks. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I can see them more clearly and I realize that I’ve seen them before. If not these, then similar fae, dancing among the roots of trees, crouched over a red tablet, taking orders from Sorcerers.

I watched them from Elliot’s back as he brought me on a tour of Sunteri to show me the desolation there, just before our battle at the Keep. I remember the Wellspring, nearly drained of its magic.

“Yes. You see,” they whisper all around me.

“Our home.”

“Our life.”

“Drained.”

“
Stolen.
”

“Destroyed.”

“Desolated.”

“
Dying.
”

“Help us.”

“Help us.”

“
Help us.
”

“I will,” I say. “I am. I’ll help. Tell me how.”

More of them flock to me, surrounding me. They’re timid and shaken at first, but I stay still and they come and cling to me. I have such pity for them that my heart feels like it might shatter into a thousand pieces. I can feel their fear like a wound in my soul. They remind me so much of Flitt that my eyes sting with tears. I can’t imagine her this way, so broken and drained.

“Who did this to you?” I whisper.

“Not one. Many,” comes the answer. “Many and slow.”

“Dark ones.”

“
Sorcerers
.”

“Not to be trusted.”

“What can I do?” I ask. One of them nuzzles my neck and I pat it gently. Again I’m reminded of Flit.

“Speak for us.”

“Speak for us.”

“In Kythshire. Speak for us.”

“In Kythshire.”

“Help us.”

“Help us restore it.”

“Help us go home.”

“I will,” I whisper. “I’m going there soon. I’ll ask them if they can help. I promise.”

“She promises. She said it.”

“Go now, quickly.”

“Back to the fox.”

“Away, he comes.”

“Dreamwalker.”

They pull me to my feet in the direction Elliot disappeared, and I let them guide me. The darkness grows impossibly darker as I move through it, and I feel something bearing down on us, closer and closer. One by one the drained creatures fade away. I can’t see or feel anything. Just when I fear I’ll be swallowed up by the darkness and suffocated, something shifts. The light blinds me and I gasp for air.