Shadows on the Stars (14 page)

“Deth Macoll,” he announced. “At your service.”

The snakelike form floated away from the crystal and approached this new arrival, inspecting him closely. As Rhita Gawr encircled him in a smoky noose, moving just a hand’s width away from his chest, Deth Macoll merely stood there, relaxed, showing no sign of nervousness. His gray eyes followed the circling form as if he himself were the hunter instead of the prey.

“Very good,” declared Rhita Gawr at last, his voice bubbling like hot lava. “You are a master of disguise, I see. But not a changeling.”

The man did not answer.

“That’s right, my lord,” said Kulwych proudly. “He is human, the superior race.”

“Bah,” spat the spirit lord. “Superior to what? Cockroaches, perhaps?” His dark tail crackled in the air. “But perhaps I have spoken too harshly, Kulwych. After all, both you and your friend here are human.”

Deth Macoll squinted at the sorcerer, and spoke again. “He is not my friend,” he said casually. “Merely someone who provides me with interesting work from time to time.”

Kulwych bristled. “You mean someone who pays your exorbitant fees.”

The other man’s voice dropped to a growl. “My real pay, as you should know by now, comes not in coin.” His chin angled toward the sorcerer. “I choose my work for other reasons. My own reasons.”

“Maggots of Merlin! You ungrateful—”

“Silence,” snapped Rhita Gawr, still circling. “You have proven my point, Kulwych. Humanity may have some superior gifts, I suppose, but also superior flaws. And it is the flaws that make them so very useful to me. For their very natures are arrogant, greedy, and superstitious.”

Neither man said anything more. Their eyes, however, glinted like sword blades.

“And now,” declared Rhita Gawr, “are you ready to hear my command?”

“To hear your request,” corrected Deth Macoll. “Tell me your target, and then I will decide.”

Sparks of darkness flew into the air, and the spinning form hissed, “For your sake, let us hope you decide correctly. Your target is a woman of considerable power.”

“Who?” asked the assassin, shrugging his shoulders lazily.

Kulwych stepped forward. His wretched face was so contorted by anger that he would probably have grabbed Deth Macoll by his cloak and shaken him, but for the dark form that sizzled between them. “Are you really that stupid? Who else but the Lady of the Lake?”

“No, my plaything,” corrected Rhita Gawr. “It is not the Lady.”

As Kulwych froze, openmouthed, the other man smirked ever so slightly.

“The Lady is old,” continued Rhita Gawr, “too old to trouble me now. And besides, just as I have planned, she will very soon give away the greatest source of her remaining power.”

Taken aback, Kulwych shrank away. “Then if not her, who?”

“A young woman, a priestess in the Society of the Whole. Her name I know not, but I have felt her as a growing threat. By herself, she has no power worthy of any concern. But she will carry with her that gift from the Lady that I mentioned—an object so powerful that it could conceivably disrupt my plans.”

Deth Macoll, suddenly intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “And what is this object?”

Rhita Gawr stopped circling and just hung in the air, a rope of darkness suspended by nothing. “A crystal of pure élano, the last one in Avalon. Until I can break its magic and bend it to my will, as I have this one here, it remains a threat.”

Deth Macoll nodded. “I see. All right then, I will kill her for you.” He grinned savagely. “I have just the right disguise to get close to her.”

“And after you kill her,” added the sizzling form by his chest, “you will bring back the crystal. To this very cavern. Though I myself may not be here to greet you, Kulwych will be. And he will tell me if you try any treachery.”

The man bowed his head. “But of course. It will be a pleasure.”

PART II

12
•
A Faery’s Flight

Time for a bath,” grumbled Nuic from his perch on Elli’s shoulder. His skin color, an overheated shade of burgundy, could barely be seen under all the mud and dust.

“And a drink,” Elli answered, stepping through a grove of tree-sized ferns whose fronds had been decorated with wreaths of pink berries. She looked admiringly at the wreaths, knowing that they were probably the work of starflower faeries, those yellow-winged creatures whose artistic urges had long enlivened Woodroot.

Hearing the splatter of water nearby, she turned toward a rivulet. It flashed silver in the morning starlight, a luminous ribbon that flowed through the lush forest. Sprigs of brightmint grew along its banks, bejeweled with drops of dew that rimmed every edge of every leaf. This rivulet looked, sounded, and smelled of one thing above all else: freshness.

As Elli knelt by its edge, Nuic leaped into the water with a splash. Within seconds, his color had changed to a sparkling ice blue.

She bent lower and drank. Instantly, the chill liquid moistened her tongue, while the sharp scent of mint tickled her nose. For some inexplicable reason, she thought of Tamwyn just then, feeling a hint of sadness at the way they’d parted.
Where is he now? she
wondered. There was no way she could know that, at that very moment, he, too, was sipping some fresh water, high above in the Great Hall of the Heartwood.

She frowned, wiping some drops off her chin.
Probably he’s lost.
Her frown deepened.
In more ways than one.

She heaved a sigh.
So why should I care where he’s gone?
In the time since she’d left the ruins of the Drumadian compound, retracing her route back north into the high peaks and then trekking into Woodroot, the realm of the Lady of the Lake, she’d thought about little else besides the Lady, Coerria—and Tamwyn. She’d even felt the touch of his strong hands as she climbed down the rope ladder that he had so carefully spliced and hung in the tunnel of the Rugged Path. His work had saved them plenty of trouble (as well as scrapes and bruises).

As silently as a leaf falling onto a bed of moss, Brionna knelt beside her. With a quick glance at Elli, she took a drink of her own, then said, “Still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But I don’t know why. He’s not—well, just not . . .”

“What?”

Elli’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I don’t know. Just
not
.”

Brionna studied her for a moment. “Well, I’m grateful for one thing, at least—that he’s a dependable woodsman. That rope ladder he made was a fine piece of work. Elvish, almost.”

Elli’s hazel eyes narrowed. “What are you telling me?”

The elf maiden paused to watch a family of foxes, their bushy rust-colored tails held high, prance along the opposite bank. Then she bent low, holding her long braid to her chest so it didn’t plop into the water, and took another drink. When she came up, she replied, “Look, I know he’s impossible. That just goes along with being a man. But there really is something about you two. Do you feel it?”

“Sure,” answered Elli. “Like a punch in the gut.”

Thoughtfully, Brionna scratched one of her pointed ears. “No, I mean something more like this.”

She dipped a finger into the rivulet. Out it came, with a single droplet on its tip. She shook it gently, so that half the droplet fell into the open palm of her other hand, then shook off the other half as well. The two small droplets stayed there in her palm, quivering, until something new started to happen. Even without any apparent movement of her hand, the two glistening specks seemed inclined to move, wobbling down the creases in her skin until, at last, they rejoined. It was as if they’d been drawn together from the start.

Elli said nothing for some time, though her fingers touched her bracelet woven from the stems of astral flowers. Finally, she asked, “And what about you and Scree? Are you also like drops of water?”

Now it was Brionna’s turn to scowl. “More like drops of wax from two different candles. Sometimes, near a flame, we might melt together. But our natural state is separate. And—like the resinwax candles crafted by my people—hard, very hard.”

“Lard?” repeated Shim, plopping his round little body down on the moist bank of the rill. “You don’tly have much of that, Rowanna me lass.”

The elf maiden opened her mouth to speak, then, deciding it was hopeless, closed up again.

Shim suddenly reached over and pinched her muscular arm. She jumped back and swatted him, but his pink eyes gleamed with mischief. “Sees there, lassie? Not even a smidgely bit of fat upon you! Lotsly different from old Shim here.” He gave his bulging bottom a pat. “Nobodies would everly think we’re related, you and me. Certainly, definitely, absolutely.”

He bellowed in laughter, then broke into a rhyme:

You be fitty,
While I be lardly,
You’re so pretty,
And I’m so . . . hardly!

You’re fair and tall
(And a pigsy grump);
But I’m short and small
With a bigsy rump.

Men fight and steal
For your every whim.
Just never reveal
I’m your uncle Shim!

He gave her a broad wink. “And you is my most favoritest niece.”

Brionna tried her best not to laugh, hoping not to encourage him. After all, anyone else who had dared to pinch her would have instantly found himself facing a longbow loaded with a barbed arrow—and no more than three seconds to apologize. Even so, as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t hold back a grin.

For her part, Elli didn’t try at all. She burst out laughing, as did the gangly priest, Lleu, who had just joined them at the rivulet. Even the silver-winged falcon on his shoulder joined in with a coarse screech.

Shim gave Brionna a gap-toothed grin. “You knows I’m just being teaserly, don’t you? Surely as your name is Rowanna.”

She nodded—then suddenly reached over and pinched
his
arm.

The little giant yelped, then chuckled at the rudeness of elves—and nieces. Finally, he turned to Elli. “So where is your friend, the Ladily of the Lake? Is we close now?”

Elli’s face turned suddenly somber. “I hope she still is my friend.”

From his bathing place, his tiny feet propped against a stone that kept him from floating downstream, Nuic snorted. “Hmmmpff. She’ll probably boil you in oil, stretch you thinner than a spider’s thread, and pound you into dust.” His color brightened just a bit. “But she’ll still be your friend.”

Lleu waved his long arm at the endless greenery that surrounded them. Right there within his reach were trailing vines studded with petals of blue and gold, dense shrubs that looked like miniature maple trees and smelled vaguely like cinnamon, thick pads of moss on the water-soaked stones, mint and dill and lavender growing on the banks, as well as the towering ferns draped with pink berries.

He touched Elli’s forearm. “I wouldn’t worry, really. Anyone who chooses to live in such a lovely place must be both wise and forgiving.”

“Hmmmpff,” growled Nuic. “And irascible, too. Believe me, having seen her over enough centuries, I know.”

Elli twirled one of the hanging vines around her finger. “If she’s angry, that’s just what I deserve. I just hope we can find her soon.”

“That won’t be easy,” warned the sprite, rolling over to splash himself with water. “Her lair is hidden by layers of magic. Even if it’s somewhere near here, it could take us many days to find it.”

“We don’t
have
many days!” objected Elli. “Coerria needs help. And the vision—”

“I know, Elliryanna.” Nuic’s color darkened. “I, too, saw the vision.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “And heard Rhita Gawr.”

Peering into the forest, Brionna said quietly, “Granda used to tell me that the pathway to the Lady is made of mist. And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a creature just over there that could guide us.”

“You mean that wren in the nest over there?” asked Elli doubtfully.

“No.”

“The worm by those roots?” guessed Lleu.

“No.”

She pointed, but none of the others—except perhaps Catha the hawk—could see any other creatures amidst all the greenery. Elli shook her head in exasperation and asked, “What is it?”

“Come and I’ll show you,” Brionna replied. As gracefully as a dragonfly lifting off a lily pad, she rose and stepped soundlessly along the bank.

The others followed, doing their best to be quiet. This wasn’t at all easy for Shim, whose feet seemed to crunch on every twig and scrap of bark. Quietest of all was Nuic, who simply let go of his stone and drifted slowly downstream.

A moment later, Brionna stopped. Gently, she pulled back a curtain of leaves from a willow bough. There, napping in a knothole of the willow, was a tiny person with delicate, light blue wings. Female, she wore a matching blue robe, stockings, and sash, all made from cloth so thin it was almost transparent. A pair of miniscule silver bells adorned her curved antennae. She could have fit inside the bowl of an elm leaf, and seemed lighter than a milkweed seed.

A mist faery
, Elli said to herself in wonder. She had seen them many times, flocking in the early morning hours, but never so close. Usually a blur of silvery blue motion, mist faeries were both skittish and almost never at rest—two qualities that made this sight one of Avalon’s rarest.

A breeze stirred the tall ferns, as well as the willow, and Brionna turned to Elli. “How to wake her—that’s easy,” she whispered. “How to speak with her, though, will be hard.”

Before she realized what she was saying, Elli replied, “If only Tamwyn—”

She caught herself, but Brionna finished her sentence. “Were here, I know. He could speak the faery’s language.”

Elli just chewed her lip.

“I’ll just have to try my best,” the elf maiden continued. “Before she flies off.”

With that, Brionna bent lower, until her face nearly touched the knothole. Very gently, she blew on the sleeping faery, making the delicate wings flutter. At once, the faery’s blue eyes popped open. With a shriek of fear, she leaped into the air and zipped off in a misty blue streak.

Brionna started to speak, but by then it was too late. Before she’d even said a word, the faery had disappeared into the forest.