Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (21 page)

“Not defeat, only look. She must believe in herself,” he says sleepily. “She is already armed. Rest now. Rest, Lady Knight. While it is still light.” He curls up with his head tucked beneath his grassy hump so that he looks like a small hillock in the rolling meadow, and snores.

The absence of magic leaves me feeling bleak and empty. It sends me to dark places, even as exhausted as I am. What if I never leave this place? What if I’m like Jacek, trapped until someone comes to release me? Trapped forever because my captors have died? Will I ever see Rian or Flitt again? Or my own parents?

I gaze at the golden Mark that curls down my arm and into my palm. What am I now? What forbidden rules have I broken? What will Uncle say? What will Rian say? Will I lose him? Despair washes over me. They will cast me out. Even if I am able to leave the Dreaming, things won’t ever be the same. I’ve Marked myself, and the worst part of all of it is even as I lie here lamenting about it, I want more. Just a little more, to feel that wonderful vibration again.

A flock of birds dips and rises across the meadow, and I fix my attention on just one of them. I push myself to it easily and see the ground far below, speeding past in a blur. Magic charges through me, relieving the gloom, filling me up with its bliss. Reluctantly I pull myself away after a while of soaring and immediately I regret my decision to try one last push. My head drops back into the grass, and I pass out straight away.

I wake to darkness and a sense of foreboding. There is no twittering flock of birds now, no gentle breeze to carry the scent of blooms to me. Something lurks nearby, something heavy and grim. Slowly I reach out to Stubs to rouse him, but he isn’t there. There’s just a mound of earth covered in tall grasses, so convincingly still that I begin to wonder whether he had ever been here with me at all.

That’s when panic sets in. I’m not ready to face the Dreamwalker alone. I don’t know enough. I’m too weak, I don’t have my sword. I see him now, creeping ever closer across the meadow, his black cloak spreading out behind him like a shroud of darkness that smothers everything in its wake. I try to scramble away but the grass is too noisy, so I freeze where I am and hold my breath.

The little sound I’ve made has given me away, and though I try my hardest to lie flat in the grass, he approaches. I hold my breath as I watch him near. He’s older now than the boy whose parents left him in the meadow. Older than I am by ten years or so. His face is narrow and gaunt, his dark eyes circled and blackened by the Mark.

I try to imagine the strings as he approaches, like I did with Stubs. It’s my only hope of keeping him away. I envision them like golden lines that curl around his feet in the tall grass. I try to make him turn and leave. He laughs, and I’m surprised by the pleasant tone of his voice.

“Have you been amusing yourself all day in the meadow, then?” he asks with amusement. “I enjoyed it here as well, when I first arrived. So many playthings. But they grow dull after a while.”

I don’t answer. I hold my breath and try again, willing him to move away, to leave. I’m bolstered by the magic that courses through me. It makes me feel alive. Confident. Again, he laughs.

“Oh, my darling,” he says. “I’m so pleased by all you’ve learned, and in such a short amount of time. Stubs is a fine teacher. We shall do well together, you and I. Come now, let me see you.”

I glance at the lump of earth in front of me, where one amber eye watches from the soil beneath the grasses. I don’t know what to think. The only way Jacek could know it was Stubs who taught me is if he was in on it. The eye closes quickly when I meet it with my own, and disappears into the earth again.

Shaken, I slide back to put distance between myself and Jacek, who is slowly closing in on me. My heart is racing. I don’t know what to think anymore. I trusted Stubs, but why? Should I have? The golden curls of the Mark on my arms and legs glow softly in the starlight.

What have I done?” I whisper to myself.

“You did what you thought to be right, Azaeli,” Jacek soothes. “It took me some time to figure you out. Once I did, you were quite simple to manipulate. You see, my dear, you have a strong drive to save people. Or creatures, as the case may be. And you are trusting, but you trust in yourself more than others. So I had you greet yourself at the mirror. I had you coax yourself in. Once the promise was made, the wheels were set in motion. Now you have the drive, you see. Now, you will go to Kythshire to speak for them. I knew those pathetic whelps would come in handy, Azaeli, and they did. Most certainly. Come and look, my sweet. I know you have questions. I have the answers for you right here."

His voice is so alluring, and the temptation along with it to use magic again and feel it coursing through me is difficult to resist. He can tell me what I need to know, everything I want to know. He can give me answers. Maybe I can find out how to leave this place, how to get back to Rian and Flitt.

I’m worried about them. It must be difficult to reach me here, or I’m certain they would be by my side by now. Maybe he knows how I can reach them. Still, some small part of me screams out in warning. Run away. Run and don’t look back. I stand up and turn away, and his voice is sweet in my ear just as I start to run.

“Where will you run? Everything here belongs to me. Come and look, Azaeli. See my kingdom and all of its little pleasures. I have things, you see. Many things. Some forgotten, some thought to be lost forever. Come, my sweet, beautiful lady. Come with me and see.” His cloak flutters near my shoulder and gives me pause. His words invoke a strange memory. My sword, a gift from my father, forged by his hand. My sword, slipping from my grip into a powerful vortex, in the midst of our battle with the Sorcerers. My sword, spinning away from me.

“It’s here?” I whisper, dazed. I had thought it lost forever. If it really is here, I could claim it. I could use it against him. I slow my pace and look at him over my shoulder. His cloak is dark as starless night. It floats around him far and wide, like ink spilled into the sea.

“Let me show you,” he whispers, beckoning to me. Starlight dances in his dark eyes as I turn toward him. I’m drawn to him by some unknown force. Before I can think, I step closer and fall into his open arms.

We tumble together into nothing and he holds me closer. His touch is cold and confident, and it makes me want to trust him and fight him away all at once.

“This world is as vast as one’s imagination,” he whispers to me as we fall. My heart is racing. I squeeze my eyes shut. I have always feared heights and falling. It’s even worse when everything around is dark and there’s no way of telling when the impact will come.

“Master it,” he goes on, “and you own it, Azaeli. That, I have done. Open your eyes,” he says as I feel his cloak flutter around us and my feet touch the ground gently. “Behold my kingdom.”

Tib

The trees and water are a blur below us as we soar over the countryside. It looks different from up here. Smaller. It makes me feel small, too, to see the whole world stretched out beneath us. The wind whips my hair around and I laugh. I have never felt this free. We fly through the morning and into noon. Behind me in his high-backed seat, Shoel flicks the reins. The cygnet circles lower. We’re nearing our destination.

“
The border.
”

Yes, the border. Kythshire. I look out to the west, but I can’t see a wall or a marking. All that’s there is ocean and sky and bright green land. The leaves shimmer brightly in the sunlight and make me look away. I feel a strange sensation. Something repels me. I don’t belong here. Turn around, it says to me. Find another way.

The cygnets slow. We dip beneath the canopy and weave between tree trunks. The forest is thick. There are no paths or clearings. No markings for travelers. No way to know where you are or where you’ve been. We glide low along the ground and land gently. The space is small. The cygnets barely have room to spread their wings. The elves climb out and then help Saesa and me down, too. Julini takes Saesa aside and speaks quietly to her. Gives her something.

“Tib,” Shoel says quietly. I look up at him. He smiles at me, but there’s worry in his eyes. “You’re certain of this?”

“
Yes.
”

“Yes,” I nod. I’m certain. This is where I should be right now. Shoel still doesn’t look too convinced. He shakes his head. Reaches into his vest. Hands me a square of cloth. I turn it in my hands and look it over. It’s a white scrap, just the size of my palm. There’s elf writing on it, and the head of a cygnet sketched in black.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It is a Sigil. If you are ever in trouble,” he explains, “whisper to it, and I shall hear.” I fold it and tuck it into my bandolier.

“Thank you for everything!” Saesa throws her arms around Julini. The woman smiles and looks at Shoel. She says something in their language as she pats Saesa kindly. Shoel sighs and replies to her, and she nods reluctantly.

“We cannot linger here,” Shoel says. “I ask you once more, Tib, are you certain this is your choice?”

“Say you’re certain.”

“I’m sure,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Really, I want to go back on the cygnet. I want to fly again. Shoel puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Be safe, then, friend. Do not hesitate to call on me. Trust in yourself, Tib. You have a strength I have not seen in one so young for many years.”

Julini eyes me and says something in their language to Shoel. Their discussion goes on for a few minutes. She seems like she’s worried. He does, too. But he shakes his head and says something else, and she nods a little sadly and climbs up onto her cygnet. Saesa comes to my side and takes my hand. The cygnets spring up with a mighty flap of their wings. We watch them rise through the canopy and into the sky beyond until they’re gone.

“Well, that was an adventure! Imagine, Tib! Wildwoods and elves and cygnets. We spent the night at the White Wall, even! Wait until I tell Nessa and the others. Lilen will be so jealous! So, now where?” She looks off to the east.

It’s a good question. I know we’re in the right place. The border of Kythshire. Still, I can’t remember why we’re here. Just beyond these trees, I think. Just there is where we need to go. But I get that feeling again, like something is pushing me away. Telling me to get out, that I don’t belong. It makes me want to turn around and leave and never come back. I wonder if Saesa feels the same way.

“Through there,” I say, and point through the forest to the west. Saesa turns to look.

“Are you sure?” she asks a little hesitantly. She crosses her arms and takes a small step back. “I don’t know. It seems like we shouldn’t. Where were we going again?”

“Just walk.”

Yes, just walk. I take the lead. There is no path. I have to step over brush and climb through thorny vines that catch my skin. Toward the place that warns me. Into the danger. I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions at once. One part of me wants to run far away. The other part knows the importance of going forward. Lives depend on it. Worlds depend on it. I push myself against my judgment. I keep going. Behind me, Saesa grumbles at the thorns.

“Are you sure this is the right way, Tib? It feels wrong. Maybe we should turn around.”

“Keep going.”

Yes, keep going. I reassure Saesa. I push through the thick forest. I change directions without realizing it. Southward. I feel better. It’s not as daunting.

“
This way.”

Yes, this way. I turn westward again even though I don’t want to. The warning feeling is so strong that my heart races. I don’t like it. I don’t want to go further.

“Tib, we can’t,” Saesa whispers frantically, tugging on my arm. “We shouldn’t.”

I can feel it now. A force along my right side. A great, invisible wall. It tells me to go away. To leave. I don’t belong here. I’m not welcome. I crouch for a stick and toss it through the trees. The air shimmers white and silver and gold. The stick passes through.

It happens all at once. On the other side of the unseen border, the trees twist together. The ground rumbles. Roots. Roots and earth. Bark. Vines. They curl together. They’ll get me, I know. They’ll bind me. Trap me. I turn away. I start to run. Saesa does, too. The trunks lash together. The cracking of wood is as loud as thunder. I stumble and fall, and Saesa trips over me.

“Wait.”

Yes, wait. I lie there, panting in the underbrush. I watch in terror. The trees aren’t trees. They’re men. Giants, made of twigs and branches and roots and earth. There are two of them. They look identical, down to the single eye on each of their foreheads. They tower over us. Menacing. Fierce. Still. They don’t need to move. Just looking at them is enough to terrify me. Saesa clings to my arm.

“Show yourself,” they say together. Their red eyes pulse with each word. Saesa and I look at each other. We’re right out in the open. They can see us. Still, I push myself to my feet and she stands beside me. I take a shaky step forward. “Show yourself,” they command a second time.

The air shimmers beside me. A tiny winged man emerges. He hovers at my shoulder. He’s dressed in gold armor from head to toe. I stare at him and he gives me a quick glance. As soon as he meets my eye, I remember him. I know him. Mevyn. We’ve been through things together. Many things. We’re a pair. We protect each other. There are holes, but I remember. We’ve traveled a long way together. We’re nearly there now. Kythshire. We’ve come so far. We’re almost done.

“We are Oren,” the voices boom over us. “We are the Great Forest embodied. The Arbor Keepers. The Fallen and the Risen. Esteemed Guardians of the Eastern Border. Watchers of the East.”

Mevyn’s wings blur as he darts up to face the Guardians. They’re tall. So tall that their giant heads tower over the tree tops. When he reaches them, he’s so far away that I can barely hear him speak.

“I am Mevyn. Mason Evret Valor Yester Numinous. Last of the Sunteri Fae. Keeper of the Wellspring. Guide to Valenor. Sworn Sage of the Known. Keeper of Songs. Spear-Bearer. Warden of Sands. Second to Demsin. Second to Valenor. Second to Cintigra. WindCaller. Weaver of Threads. Mindspinner. If you allow it, Lifebringer.”

One of the Orens holds out its palm and Mevyn settles onto it. A stream of red filled with golden tendrils of light flicks from the giant’s enormous eye. It beams into Mevyn and Saesa moves closer to me.

“What’s happening?” she whispers. “They aren’t hurting him, are they?” Her hand moves slowly to Feat’s hilt, but she seems to think twice about that and lets it drop.

“No,” I watch the golden tendrils curl and flick. “Oren is looking at him. At his memories.” I don’t know how I know it, I just do. I can see them too, a little. Pieces of our journey together flash and fade in my mind. As I watch them, they become clearer.

“What is he showing them?” The golden light reflects brightly in her green eyes as she gazes up.

“Everything,” I say. “Everything he can remember.”

“How do you know?”

“I see it, too. Like a play. Like a show in my mind.”

“What do you see?” she whispers.

“I see our time together, and then I see before that, too.” I say quietly. The words come as quick as the images. “Back to when I didn’t know Mevyn. What it was like before. Back when the Sunteri Wellspring was thriving. It wasn’t always a desert around it. It used to be a deep green jungle. Then they came, the Mages.

“They weren’t careful. They built their cities. They became Sorcerers. They sucked the Wellspring dry. Everything died and crumbled. All around it turned to sand and dust. Then the fae started dying, too. They couldn’t survive on this plane. They passed what they knew and what they were to each other. Passed it down, before they went. Left their empty bodies behind in the sand. Soon there were only a few left.

“Those few were a collection of all those past. Mevyn is one of them. No, many. He is so many of them now. The last of them. That’s why he has all those titles. He’s holding them for when the Wellspring is restored. For when they can all come back. If he fails, he’ll be alone. They can never come back.”

“Oh, Tib…” Saesa hugs me and I’m suddenly aware of the tears rolling down my face. I brush them away angrily. This isn’t my sadness. It’s his. I don’t need it. I have enough of my own.

The other Oren dips its head beneath the canopy to peer at Saesa and me. It blinks its red eye and nods, and I know it’s my turn. I square my shoulders and I let it look at me. The golden tendrils swirl and weave between us. They draw out all kinds of things. Memories from a long time ago that I forgot. Memories too old to cling to. My mother tries to hold me on her lap, but her belly is so round with Zhilee that I kept falling off. Before that, my father. My father working with me strapped to his back. I can only see his neck but I know it’s him. I’ve tried to remember him before, but I never could. I try to see his face, but he fades away. Next comes Nan, walking me in the field. Someone screaming in the house. Mother. And then mother is gone, and Zhilee is here, and Mother is never coming back. Picking red, red, red. Petal after petal into the basket, for years and years. Hauling. Loading. Starving. Filth. Toil. Sorrow. Sister.

Viala. My sister, reading her books. Telling stories. Getting lashed for not filling her basket.

“This we have seen before,” one of the Orens says.

“Yes, we are aware of this,” the one with Mevyn replies.

Oren skips ahead past my older sister. It looks further. I can’t stop it. It sees the trees, the roots, the fighting. It watches me climb and burn and swim and sail. It sees Nessa and my friends in Cerion. It sees Margy and Twig. It sees the pit and the Dreamwalker and my fall. It sees our journey, and the Wildwood and the elves. Through it, I can see, too. I see everything Mevyn has hidden from me. I realize how very many holes there were.

I see his giving and taking of my memories. I see his commands and his control. By the time the tendrils fade and I’m left to my own mind again, I’m fuming. Shaking. Close to raging. How could I be so unaware of how strongly he held me in his grip? How could I let him control me that way? He told me things were my idea when they weren’t. He made me see things his way when I never would have on my own. He used me, like a tool. Used me to do things he couldn’t do himself.

“Tib,” Saesa whispers, but even her concerned hand on my arm does little to soothe me. I’m furious with Mevyn. I hate him. I want to lash out at him, but he’s still way up, eye to eye with the other Oren. Unaware. I turn to Saesa and shake my head. Oren turns its eye to her and looks. It’s her turn now. It isn’t like with Mevyn, though. I can’t see any of it. I put my hand over hers. I don’t let go. She’s all I have now. My only friend. She stood by me. She was lured in, too, and it’s my fault. I’ll protect her now, until I can get her back home. I won’t let anything happen to her.

She whispers things while Oren looks. Words, here and there. Mother. Cold. Please. Raefe. I squeeze her hand. Her time with Oren is shorter than mine and Mevyn’s. When it’s finished, the giant blinks slowly. Saesa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You have an object which you have vowed to deliver, Tibreseli Nullen and Saesa of the house of Ganvent. We grant you passage into Kythshire. You shall find Twig at the Ring. Doe will accompany you. In the name of the East, welcome.”

Saesa and I cling to each other as we cross over the unseen barrier into Kythshire. As soon as we do, everything changes. Colors are brighter. Melodies of birds’ songs delight my ears. The air feels different here, too. Like it’s full of magic. I can feel it all around me, almost like I could reach out and take it and mold it in my hands. Orbs of light float around lazily, all different colors.

“Oh, it’s more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, Tib. Look!” She points at the trees. “So many of them…” She’s right. I can see them, their eyes all watching us. Hundreds of fairies laughing and pointing and watching curiously. They flutter back and forth from one branch to another. Whisper. Giggle. I have decided I don’t really like them, even though Saesa is dazzled. After everything with Mevyn, fairies give me the creeps.