Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (6 page)

“It was just a dream,” I say, my voice shaking. His was almost exactly the same as mine.

“So was yours,” he whispers.

We stare at each other for a long time in silence. I know he’s right. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. He loves me today as much as he did yesterday. Viala is gone, she doesn’t exist anymore. Emris is dead, his magic embedded in a single pebble and entrusted to the fairies. To Flitt. The thought of her chokes me up again, and then I have a thought.

“Did he have the diamond? Emris? In your dream?” I search his face and know the answer even before he nods his reply, wide-eyed.

“What does it mean, Rian?”

“I don’t know. But one thing is certain. You need to warn Flitt before she tries to jump to her tether. Hopefully she hasn’t tried to leave the Grotto yet this morning.”

He’s right. I know I can get to her if I think hard enough. I just need to set an intention to see her and concentrate hard on her grotto. I’ve done it before. I go to Rian’s side and take his hand.

“Ready?” I ask. He shakes his head. Tears prick my eyes.

“I knew it. You’re not coming.” I whisper.

“I can’t,” his voice is thick, like he’s fighting his own tears.

“I need you,” I say, moving closer to him.

“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t, Azi.”

“I trust you, Rian. They trust you. They said you’re always welcome back. Please.” I squeeze his hand. “Please. Don’t make me go alone. If she isn’t there—”

“She’ll be there,” he says firmly.

“Rian.” I say pleadingly. I can’t bear to leave him behind. Not for this. I can’t face it alone. He reaches up and rakes shaking fingers through his short-cropped hair and lets out a long, slow sigh.

“Fine,” he says finally. “Do it quick before I change my mind.” He whispers a spell and I feel the air shift around us as we enter the Half-Realm.

“It’ll be easier from here,” he says.

I close my eyes and think of the Grotto that Flitt calls home. Nestled in a colorful corner of Kythshire, it’s a beautiful, tiny space with a sparkling pool full of graceful fish and a peaceful little waterfall. Rainbow-colored willow fronds drip down to graze the water’s surface, and the trees there are adorned with trinkets that chime melodically in the breeze. I think of it purposefully, and I feel the crunchy leaves beneath my feet fade away to be replaced with soft, spongy moss.

“Did you see that?” Rian asks from beside me.

“What?” I look around the sparkling scene hopefully, but my heart sinks. Flitt isn’t here.

“Not here. In the Half-Realm,” Rian says. “Never mind. It was probably nothing.” He closes his eyes and I know that he’s trying to keep himself in control. Kythshire is like a wonderful dream. The air here is saturated with magic. I can feel it surrounding us, thick and tangible, like the scent of a delicious meal luring me, inviting me to enjoy every last bite. For Rian I know it’s more like he’s been starved for a week and then dropped in the middle of a great feast and forced to resist it. I squeeze his hand and he forces a smile.

“All right?” I ask, and he nods. “Oh, Rian, she’s not here.” I pace, trampling the moss as fear and regret wash over me in waves, followed quickly by anger. I’ll find whoever has the diamond. They’ll pay. If any harm has come to Flitt, heads will roll. I think of my sword and wish for it and feel it at my back. For good measure, I wish for my armor as well and it appears out of nowhere, fitted perfectly as always to my body.

“Calm down,” Rian murmurs as he flexes his fingers, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself. “Maybe she’s dancing at the Ring?”

He points to the waterfall that acts as Flitt’s entry to the pristine circle of white mushrooms where the fairies convene to discuss and dance together. We’ve been there a few times, but never without her.

“I have an idea.” I tighten my grip on his hand and close my eyes.

I calm myself and focus on Flitt: her seven ponytails, each a color of the rainbow, her skirt of bright ribbons, her ever-changing eyes.

“Flitt,” I whisper, and my feet leave the ground again.

“Well it belongs to me and I want it back. And, oof! Hey! Watch where you step, you big oaf!” Flitt’s voice rings out squeaky and annoyed from the ground at our feet.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, Stinky!” she shouts up at Rian. “What’s the big idea, blinking around at full size? I thought Mages were supposed to be smart!”

Suddenly, the ground grows closer and the trees surrounding us stretch impossibly higher, and I realize that Flitt has shrunken us down to her size. I don’t even care. I dive at her and throw my arms around her and sob with relief.

“Hey, that’s short enough,” Rian squeaks from beside me, where Flitt has shrunken him to half my height.

“That’s for stepping on my foot,” she sticks her tongue out at him. “Lucky you didn’t step on my everything and squish me, lummox.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Rian makes a gesture and shoots up taller. He measures his chin to the top of my head to make sure he’s got it right. “Azi was navigating.”

“Typical. Always placing blame. You can let go of me now, Azi.” She wriggles her shoulders and squirms out of my embrace. “Be more careful next time. Oh! And I have a petal to pick with you, Azi! What do you mean, losing my tether?”

“What?” I ask, distracted by our glittering surroundings. We’re standing at the base of a great, twisting tree which has grown in an impossible way. Sections of the bark have separated and grown together again to form rows and rows of tiny doors and windows. Some of them glow with various colored lights while others are dark. Each door is decorated with trinkets and baubles, some natural, some man-made. I spot all sorts of found objects here and there: a thimble, the clip of a belt, a broken hair comb. Rough gems and cut gems sprinkle the ground around us and decorate crevices in the tree as far up as I can see. Dozens of baskets woven from golden wheat hang from a network of tiny ropes on pulleys all along the massive trunk. Odd things poke up over the edges of them: torn bits of parchment, seashells, balls of thread, feathers. What strikes me most about all of it, though, is the silence.

“Where are we, Flitt? What is this place?” Rian asks with awe, echoing my thoughts as he gazes up at the tree.

“Makers’ Tree,” she says, and then shouts up at the tree, “and I’m not leaving until someone tells me exactly what’s going on!”

“We’re not coming out with
them
here,” a tiny voice calls from inside the tree.

“Yeah, make them go away first!” shouts someone else.

“Are you kidding me?” Flit yells. “If it wasn’t for these two, you’d all be sapped white as pinkynut grubs! Ask Iren! Ask Crocus and Scree! Stupid Makers,” she grumbles the last bit under her breath and kicks at a basket near her feet. It tips over and spills its contents: a collection of smooth chips of sea glass.

“Hey, watch it!” A blur of yellow dashes toward us and snatches up the basket and the glass, and then darts back into a nearby door.

“We’re not giving it back!” someone calls from elsewhere in the tree. “You shouldn’t have trusted it to someone dumb enough to lose it!”

“Hey.” Rian growls in the direction of the voice. I don’t defend myself. It was stupid of me. I should have kept better track of it.

“Hey!” Flit snarls and leaps up. Her wings carry her to the voice and she perches on the threshold of a bright pink door. “Take that back! I gave it to who I was supposed to give it to. It’s not my fault she was stupid!”

I cross my arms and press my lips together while I listen to the fairies argue about my level of intelligence. Rian paces beside me, wiggling his fingers. I know he’s trying hard to keep control. His eyes flash between wild and calm in waves.

“I didn’t lose it, okay?” I finally shout. “I had it yesterday! I had it and then it was just gone. It disappeared!”

“Oh, sure, it just disappeared,” a voice calls from yet another door.

“Not likely,” says another.

“She was probably careless with it and dropped it,” says someone else.

“Or tried to sell it. It is a diamond after all. Who chose that for a tether, anyway?”

“Dabble!” Flitt says defensively. “Dabble did, and it was brilliant of him, too.” She floats back a little ways from the door. “Perfect for me. You should see how it twinkles. Just like my light. So you can all just be quiet!”

“Where is he, then? Dabble?” one of them calls. Dozens of others echo the name. They go on awhile until he finally makes his appearance, hovering beside Flitt. He’s a round little thing with spectacles of shimmering mica and a beard of orange that goes all the way down to his knees in thick ringlets. His head is bald and shiny, and he wears a thick apron stuffed full of whittled twigs and strange tools carved from stone. His wide wings seem to require a little more effort than Flitt’s as the two lower themselves to the ground beside us. As he comes closer, my heart races. Tucked under his arm is the diamond.

Above us, curious little faces appear in the doorways and windows. When I look up to them, some of them dart back inside timidly.

“Here you go, then.” Dabble holds the tether out to Flitt and she takes it carefully from him with a pointed scowl in my direction. After a moment, she hands it over to me.

“Don’t lose it again,” she scolds. Protests erupt from the tree, and Dabble turns toward it.

“She’s not stupid, and she didn’t lose it, you cretins!” he shouts up at the hiding fairies.

“How do you know?” the yellow fairy from before peeks out of his door.

“Because I put a guard on it. A precaution for this very occurrence.” Dabble adjusts his spectacles and the mica flashes with various colors.

“What kind of precaution?” someone else calls.

“What occurrence?” Rian asks.

“Theft. It’s a theft prevention guard,” he explains. “I magicked it so it would transport here if anyone tried to steal it. And someone did. Someone lurking in the Half-Realm. Someone with dark magic. A Sorcerer.”
 

Azi
 

A hush falls over the tree at Dabble’s declaration. Immediately, I think of Viala. I look at Rian and realize that he’s probably thinking of Emris. I shake my head. Both notions are ridiculous.

“A Sorcerer? Well, you two know what to do with Sorcerers, don’t you?” Flitt beams at us. “They’re no match for us, are they?” She turns toward the tree. “We’re not afraid of any Sorcerer!”

“Calm down, Flitt.” Rian takes a step toward Dabble, who leans away slightly and adjusts his spectacles on his nose. Behind the thick mica flakes, I see the fairy’s eyes flick over Rian’s chest. I know what he’s looking for: Mage Mark. Unfortunately, Rian is dressed for winter. His high-collared vest and thick robes could conceal any Mark from his jaw down. This past Autumnsdawn, when he was forced to hold all of Viala’s magic after she was stripped, the Mark had crept up over his face. Now, I know, it’s barely visible across his chest. I blush and glance at Flitt, who’s watching me watch Dabble. She rolls her eyes, and it’s not the first time I wonder whether she can read my thoughts.

Rian is oblivious to the two of us as he addresses Dabble.

“How can you be certain it was a Sorcerer?” he asks.

“Ah, well,” Dabble glances away and takes a step back. His fingers wind into his beard nervously.

“I know! Let’s play!” Flitt giggles. Rian and I groan in unison.

“Yes, you three go play somewhere else.” Dabble says with relief. “Go on, now. Flitt can answer your questions. We’ve got lots of work to do. Always working. Very busy.” Before any of us can protest, he flies up to the tree and disappears through a deep purple door.

“You heard him,” someone shouts from a window further up.

“Go somewhere else!”

“Nice meeting you!”

“Bye!”

“Friendly folks, aren’t they?” Rian mumbles.

“Snobs,” Flitt wrinkles her nose. “They think they’re so smart. Brains aren’t everything,” she shouts up at the tree, then she nudges me. “Right, Azi?” Giggles erupt from the windows closest to us and I narrow my eyes at Flitt. “Oh come on, I was joking.”

“Anyway, let’s go.” Rian says. “We’re obviously not welcome here, and the guild will be wondering where we went.” His hands are balled into fists and shoved into the pockets of his vest.

“Right.” I tuck the diamond back into the pouch and push it safely under my shirt, then I turn to Flitt expectantly. “Ready.”

“Ready for?” Flitt asks, wide-eyed.

“For you to take us back.” Rian says.

“How do you expect me to do that?” she asks. “My tether’s here.” She points at me.

“You can’t just…?” Rian waves his hand casually as his voice trails off.

“No, I can’t just. That’s kind of the point of a tether. Inside Kythshire, simple dimple. We can go anywhere you like. But to get outside, we need tethers.”

“Couldn’t I do it? I got us here from outside.” I say.

“Go ahead and try.” Flitt comes to my side and links her arm through mine. I do the same with Rian and close my eyes and think of the inn. I focus hard on Mum and Da, and try to take us to them. Nothing happens. I look up at Rian and shake my head.

“Come on.” Flitt says, and without warning we’re pulled away again, this time back to her Grotto. Rian grumbles and trudges out of the pool of water, dripping wet. “That never gets old.” Flitt laughs.

“That’s right, antagonize the volatile Mage. Never mind me trying my hardest to keep it together.” With a swish of his hand he dries his robes and drops beside me onto the moss.

“Ready to play?” Flitt perches daintily on a nearby root. Her prisms of light glitter brightly over the dewdrops on the bark of the tree, and her colorful hair shimmers as she smoothes her ribbon skirt. The beauty of the scene placates me. All of my tension and anger fades away, and instead I feel a rush of love for this little fairy and her precious world.

“Yes.” Rian’s matter-of-fact tone snaps me back to my senses. “Why did Dabble seem so certain it was a Sorcerer who tried to steal your tether?”

“Aw,” Flit tips her head back wistfully. “I was hoping you’d forget about that and ask how to get back to the inn instead.”

Rian watches Flitt patiently, waiting. He knows as well as I do the rules of the game are that Flitt has to answer the question and then ask her own.

“He has ways of knowing,” she replies vaguely. “Did you two have nightmares last night?”

“How did you—” I start, but Rian stops me.

“Shh! She’s trying to steer us away from my question, which she didn’t really give a proper answer to. Yes, we had nightmares.” He taps his lip thoughtfully and winces as a spark of energy from his fingertip zaps him. “Ah!” He curses and shoves his fists into his pockets again. “All right, you’re right. I can ask about the impending threat of dark magic once we’re out of here. We need to leave, Flitt. What’s the easiest way for us to get back to the inn?”

“Well, for you two, since you can go in the Half-Realm, probably all you have to do is step across the border of Kythshire into Cerion, and then you can think yourself back to your Mum, Azi. Or anyone, really. I think, anyway.”

“All right, let’s try it,” Rian says.

“Wait, it’s my turn to ask!” Flitt scowls, but Rian shakes his head.

“We’ll keep playing once we’re back,” he says.

“Fine. We’ll go to Iren and cross there, since it knows you.” Flitt darts to us and pulls me to my feet. “Grow up.”

As we grow to our normal size I reach for Rian’s hand. He takes mine, his brow lined with worry. Iren is the Guardian of the North, the Spirit of the Crag who fought beside us against the Sorcerers and gifted my armor to me. We never would have been able to defeat them without Iren’s help, and Iren never would have woken if I hadn’t restored it. I’m actually looking forward to seeing the Guardian again, but I understand why Rian is hesitant. At the end of the battle, he chose to leave Viala in Iren’s care. The Guardian assured us that she would have no memory of her previous life. The two of us trusted Iren’s word and allowed Viala to live, but deep down I’m certain that Rian is just as reluctant to see her again as I am.

Before either of us can think further about it, Flitt whisks us to a place where gravel crunches under my feet and we’re pommeled by gusts of wind that feel as though they’ll blow us right off of the edge of the mountain. I cling to Rian and hesitate to open my eyes. I’ve been here before, where the Guardian of the North resides. I remember how high it is, and I don’t relish the thought of experiencing that height again firsthand. It’s only when I feel Rian tense beside me and Flitt burrow into my neck that I force myself to open my eyes.

At first I don’t see her, but then the rocks a hundred paces in front of us shift slightly and I realize they aren’t rocks at all. Her waif-like form is bundled in thick gray leathers and wools. In her gloved hand she holds a graceful long bow at the ready. The string is drawn back perfectly and the arrow aimed precisely at Rian’s head. I sidestep to put myself between the arrow and Rian as she steps closer. The wind whips her hood from her face, unleashing a fan of gleaming black hair. As she makes her cautious approach, I see that on the right side of her head where her hand is poised holding the arrow, her hair is shaved close to her scalp. She looks so different from the Sorceress she once was that I can’t help myself.

“Viala,” I whisper. Behind me, the air around Rian crackles ominously.