Heart of Fire (40 page)

“Not even just a little
bit?”

“No!”

“Will I see any elves?”

Ertemis pivoted in his saddle. “What
am I? Or don’t I count because I’m only half-blooded?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...nay,
your lordship, of course you count.” Brynden’s cheeks went
red.

Ertemis turned back around. “If you
want to see full blooded high born elves, you will have to wait
until my lady mother’s arrives for the ceremony.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I’ve asked you not to call me that.
Lordship and highness are bad enough. No sir.”

“As you wish.”

“Quiet now. I need to listen for the
way.” He regulated the beat of his heart to match his mother’s, the
rhythm strengthening as the landscape changed. Familiar scenery
gave way to the bog path.

He spoke to Brynden again. “Stay on
the path and keep me in sight at all times. Do not deviate, do not
hesitate, and you will be fine. This is enchanted ground we tread,
between the worlds of fey and mortal. There are creatures here you
cannot begin to imagine.”

A birdlike cry pierced the silence
and Brynden jumped, fresh fear rounding his eyes. “Aye.”

Ertemis was beginning to see the
affect of his human companion on the trip to the Ferryman’s pier.
The sky was darker than his first visit. The bog seemed closer to
the path. Muddy ooze sucked at the higher ground as if trying to
drag the path under.

He kept his pace slow so there was
no chance Brynden would fall behind. When they reached the pier,
the sky was a murky soup of thunderclouds. Fingers of wind tore at
their clothes. The Ferryman waited at the end of the jetty, his
skiff level although the inland sea of Lythe foamed around
it.

The Ferryman shook his head at
Brynden.

Ertemis called out above the wind.
“I’m not seeking passage for the boy or myself. I only wish a
message be delivered to my lady mother.”

The winds eased as he pulled the
sealed scroll from his pack and held it so the Ferryman could see
it. The Ferryman beckoned for the scroll. Ertemis dismounted,
motioning for Brynden to stay put. He walked down the pier, mindful
of the churning sea.

Turning the scroll over to the
Ferryman, Ertemis wondered if he should await a response. The
Ferryman pointed back toward Brynden and the animals, then pointed
to the ground. Ertemis guessed that meant he should.

The Ferryman disappeared into the
fog before Ertemis stepped off the pier.

“What now?” Brynden looked anxious
to leave.

“We wait.”

* * *

“Fynna! I found the separation
spell. I think the spell on the next page is what we’re looking
for. It has to be.” Jessalyne spread the book across the worktable.
Fynna dropped her dusting rag and came to look for
herself.

“A joining spell.” She shook her
head slowly. “I don’t know, this is dark magic. Are you
sure?”

“How can it be dark magic when we’re
using it for good?”

“But this spell is for things like
attaching an enemy to a tree or for giving someone donkey
ears.”

“So why shouldn’t it work for wings?
I think the spell is only in this book as an accompaniment to the
separation spell.”

“Well, I’m willing.” A slight smile
brightened Fynna’s face.

“Then let’s do it.”

Fynna nodded. “I agree. We can use
the worktable.”

“Will you fetch a quilt from our
room to lay over it? I want to read the spell again and gather the
ingredients.” Fynna skipped out of the room. Jessalyne sat down
with the book. She checked the spell for any nuance that might
cause it to go wrong. Anything belonging to Sryka was suspect in
her mind. No reason for Fynna to pay a greater price than she
already had.

Seeing nothing overtly dangerous,
she ransacked Sryka’s stores for the ingredients. A few of them,
like shaved horse hoof and dried stitcher beetles, made her
grimace, but most of the others, like sap from a speckled elm,
seemed perfectly normal. She added them to the caldron and heated
them as directed.

Fynna came back in and spread a
quilt over the worktable. “Are you ready?”

Jessalyne ladled some of the mixture
into a dish. “I guess so. You?”

“Definitely.” The pixie hopped up on
the table and lay face down.

“Slip your tunic down in the back so
I can see the scars.”

Fynna adjusted herself on the table,
fixing her tunic as Jessalyne had asked, then rested her forehead
on her arms and waited. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Fynna. That means a lot
to me. I’m going to get your wings now.” And hope she lived up to
that trust. Jessalyne swung the unlocked armoire doors open and
gently lifted the wings. Almost weightless and brittle as autumn
leaves, they rested in her hands like shadows. She moved slowly
back toward the table so the air didn’t lift them out of her
hands.

Just below the small of Fynna’s
neck, two indigo crescents marked the points where her wings had
once been. Jessalyne smeared a bit of the potion on each crescent,
then laid each wing as close to the spots as possible.

“I don’t know if this will hurt or
not.”

“It can’t hurt any worse than it
already does.” The quilt muffled Fynna’s voice. “I’m
ready.”

Jessalyne picked up the grimoire and
with a calming breath, began to read. “Whether lost or newly found,
these two objects shall be bound, and when the two have been
combined, leave no seam for eyes to find. Joined together as flesh
to bone, joined together as if grown, bind them now for evermore
with this spell do I implore.”

A quick, sharp sucking sound rent
the air. Fynna cried out and arched her back. The wings began to
spread. With a painful mewling, she collapsed onto the quilt. “It
hurts so bad...they’re too damaged...I cannot bear it.” She fell
silent, her clenched fists going limp.

Without hesitation, Jessalyne
dropped the book and raised her hands over her fallen friend. She
called her magic, focusing on Fynna’s desecrated wings. She
imagined them as best she could, whole and beautiful and
healthy.

Pain tore through her as she
absorbed the damage. Heat built in her, burning the pain away. The
room wavered and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back
slightly. Awash in fiery magic, her awareness began to melt. She
saw Fynna’s wings. Brilliant blues and greens flashing like jewels.
Gossamer beauty alive and fluttering. Heat darkened her vision and
the wings were gone.

She stumbled away from the table and
fell to her knees. The cold stone floor felt so good. She pressed
her cheek against it, letting it leach the heat from her body and
drifted off as darkness claimed her.

“Lady Jessalyne, are you all right?”
Sir Laythan shook her. “What happened? How did Fynna get her wings
back?” He helped her sit.

“Where’s Fynna? My head hurts and
I’m starving.”

“Fynna’s asleep on the table. It’s
no wonder you’re starving, you missed lunch and dinner. That’s why
I came looking for you. Are you all right? What
happened?”

“I found the joining spell to fix
Fynna’s wings but then I had to heal her because they were so
damaged. It took more out of me than I expected. Did you try to
wake Fynna? I’m sure she’s hungry too.”

“When is Fynna not hungry?” Laythan
helped her stand.

“Oh...look at her wings. They’re so
beautiful. No wonder she missed them so much.”

Curled around Fynna’s sleeping form,
her wings created a beautiful crystalline blanket of swirling blues
and greens. They were very much like butterfly wings, as Fynna had
described them, and now, they pulsed with life.

“Wake up sleepy head. We missed
dinner.”

“Mmm…dinner.” Fynna stretched and
yawned. “Why didn’t somebody wake me sooner? I’m nearly dead with
hunger.”

Jessalyne laughed. “Is that all
you’re concerned with?”

Fynna sat up, her wings fluttering
out behind her. Recognition lit up her face. “I have my wings back!
Thank you!” She launched herself off the table and hugged
Jessalyne.

“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure
to give them back to you.”

Fynna clapped. “Let’s
eat!”

* * *

After a restless evening, Ertemis
woke to a clear pink firstlight. Even the fog had dissipated to
little more than mist. He stretched, glancing over at Brynden. The
boy sat wrapped in a blanket, huddled in front of Dragon and Petal.
By the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“I wasn’t tired.”

Ertemis stifled a laugh. “We will be
here until the Ferryman returns, so try to sleep a
little.”

“If you insist.” He laid down right
where he was.

Soft snoring serenaded Ertemis as he
rummaged in his pack for breakfast. He ate staring into the mist,
hoping the Ferryman would come soon so he might return to
Jessalyne. Once Dragon and Petal had been fed, he sat on the pier,
waiting and watching.

The mist split like a curtain and
the Ferryman’s skiff floated into view. He was not alone. A pale
grey horse stood beside the Ferryman. Another figure held the
horse’s reins. Ertemis squinted. The figure’s hood dropped back to
reveal his mother.

He hadn’t expected her to return
with the Ferryman, only to send her response. He swallowed. Besides
the day and time, the only information contained in the message was
that he was getting married and if she wanted to attend, a guide
would meet her outside Shaldar City’s gates to take her the rest of
the way. He had planned on being that guide so he could tell her he
knew who his father was during the trip. There was no chance he
could hide anything from her on the ride back. One ‘your highness’
from Brynden and the bird would be out of the cage.

“Mother. I didn’t expect to see
you.” He reached for her hand and helped her onto the pier, taking
her horse’s reins. It spoke volumes that the tashathna had let her
come unescorted. Either they considered her expendable, or assumed
he would be guide enough. Both were probably true.

“You sound unhappy I came.” She
raised an eyebrow.

“Nay, it’s my great pleasure to be
your escort. Jessalyne looks forward to meeting you.”

“As I do her. That’s why I decided
to come so quickly, so that I might get to know this woman who’s
captured your heart.” She smiled broadly and kissed his cheek. “I’m
so happy for you, my son.” He returned her smile, still trying to
determine the best way to tell her where they were going and who
she would be seeing. The Ferryman faded back into the mist. Ertemis
helped her mount.

“Who is that sleeping boy?” She
nodded toward Brynden.

“My squire.”

She tipped her head at him. “You
have a squire?”

And so it began. “I will explain as
we ride. Brynden, get up.”

Brynden opened his eyes. He looked
directly at Ertemis’s mother. The morning sun rose behind her,
illuminating her with a soft glow. “Am I dreaming?”

“Nay. My lady mother has decided to
return with us. Mount up so we might leave. You may
lead.”

Brynden hopped up and bowed low.
“Nice to meet you, mistress elf.”

“You may call me mistress Elana. And
there is no need for bowing.”

“I keep telling him that,” Ertemis
said.

Brynden nodded and scrambled up onto
Petal, stealing glances at her every chance he got. They stayed
single file on the path until they left the bog behind. Then
Brynden held the front, while Elana dropped back next to her
son.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she
spoke. “Your mind is swirling with thought. I can almost hear
it.”

“There is much that still needs to
be said. I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with what burdens you the
most.”

“You must promise me you will not
turn back.”

“A promise given blindly is a fool’s
demise.”

“Please don’t quote Aramaeis to me.
The Tashathna Precepts lost their meaning when I entered the
Legions.”

She bowed her head, obviously
discomforted by his words. “I am sorry. They come as quickly to my
lips as song to a bird.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. Between
you and Jessalyne, I shall be apologizing for many years to come, I
fear.”

She smiled. “I will not leave, but I
will not promise.”

“I cannot ask for more than that.”
He cleared his throat. “I know who my father is.”

She stayed silent, eyes never
leaving the way ahead.

“Jessalyne saved his life and
brought us together.”

When she finally spoke, her voice
was husky with emotion. “So you know then. Your father is a great
man.”

“He is a great man and not just
because he’s king. He recognized me as his son, his first-born
heir. The ceremony is more than just a wedding. It’s also a
coronation. My coronation.” No matter how many times he said it or
thought it, the idea remained foreign to him.