Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (31 page)

“Fera, there you are. I wanted to speak with you, it's about tomorrow.”

Mordon lost the scales and big eyes by the time she had finished her first sentence. I struggled to revert back to normal.

“Fera, did you hear me?”

“Yes, Mother.” My voice sounded a little…different, but it was hard to say how. I cleared my throat and checked my nails. Pink with white ovals. When I faced her, she didn't seem to see anything strange. “If it's about leaving the woods before tomorrow, it's not happening. I'm staying.”

A dead silence came over us as Mother took in what I'd said. Then she nodded and waved at Mordon.

“Get out of the corner. There's a whole carnival to explore. You're not getting out of being social.”

“We've been caught,” Mordon whispered. I giggled.

Mother stood there, hands on hips, until we were back on the trampled grassy path very well lit by torches doing their flips and shimmies in tandem to the restless breeze which was makings its own way through the wonders of the fey world.

“…
and then I told them I was going to stick it out and fight the Infection with them,” I said.

Mordon and I laid on a flying carpet parked on the uppermost branches of the tallest maple tree in the center of the clearing with the shouts and songs and explosions of the carnival happening all around us on the ground below. I had him all to myself, and he was infuriatingly happy to hook both his hands behind his head and enjoy my attentions.

Once or twice I'd already tried to ignore him, even tried sitting on my own hands, but they always found a way back to his face, arms, and chest. I was the one who was used to playing hard to get, and it irritated me to no end that not only was he the one doing it, but it was working. So I'd started talking about the most un-sexy thing I could, which was my enemy and the big problem. My thoughts were beginning to come into line as the burdens added up.

“I've heard talk of much of the same. There's an evacuation plan in progress for the children, infirm, and unable, but none of them want to leave. They'd rather die, and the children are too scared to leave their home. It's the children which worry me.”

“I know,” I said. “Mordon, do you suppose…do you suppose the children and caretakers could take shelter in Kragdomen?”

“Home of the fearsome fire drake?”

“A magic castle armed to the teeth with warriors and set in a peaceful valley teeming with children their age to play with.”

Mordon passed his hand over his face, but it wasn't a bad expression. He stroked his chin. “There may be objections, both with the feys and with the colony. And it might not be so peaceful if dragons try one of their raids.”

“These kids haven't even seen a duplex. Imagine what they'd think of exploring a castle. And besides, the dragons aren't worse than a nuisance, usually. Or so you have said.”

“I don't want them there.”

What? I lifted my chin. “Then you'll have to state your opinion when I bring it up before the Elders. Fey kids they may be, but it doesn't seem that the colony is so uncharitable as to turn them away.”

“Don't tell me about charity. This isn't about the heart. It's about the practicality of the matter. What do they eat? How are they to get their food? Where will they sleep, what will they do while they wait, where do they go if the Wildwoods is lost, how long will the colony be responsible for them, what sort of recompense will the colony receive? Will they be safe from the big, bad Aeron Meadows and his mate Enaid?”

My brows narrowed. “You want to help them.”

“Of course I do.”

“You were just playing devil's advocate.”

“Yes.” Mordon shrugged. “People will ask those questions, and if they don't, they should. So start answering.”

I thought about it for a minute. “They can bring a supply of food from their homes. Mother mentioned once that they have a two-week stash for emergencies. That should be plenty of time to tell if the Wildwoods can be saved. Because I have a feeling it's going to happen quick. As to sleeping, you and I both know the castle has a lot of spare rooms from more prosperous days.”

“The feys don't know it.”

“You're right, I'll have to tell them there's space. What was next? Recompense can be in goods and services. The caretakers can bring valuable exotics to give to the colony.”

“And what to do while they wait?”

“Oh, yes. Think they'd be any help in the normal daily activities of the colony?”

Mordon snorted. “The second one of them relaxes, they'll pull a prank and that'll do wonders to sour relations.”

“They can be serious when they want. Besides, the colony kids are rambunctious, too. The alternative is to have a segregated society.”

“Not ideal,” Mordon said. “We'll have to tell the refugees to follow colony rules, and tell the colony to tolerate their eccentricities.”

“Neither party will like that.”

“No, but it will help the feys adjust if they need to find a new permanent home.”

I closed my eyes and wrapped my hands around my knees. Mordon rubbed the spot between my shoulder blades. We sat there in silence for a while, listening to the cackling warble of a harpy's laugh.

“I can't imagine all of this just being gone,” I said.

“Then don't.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It isn't.” Mordon sat next to me and kissed my temple. “It isn't.”

“How do I talk to the Elders about this?”

“Let me.”

“Mordon,” I started, but he put a finger over my lips.

The way he was looking at me, serious and sad, made me keep quiet after his finger left my mouth. He took me by the back of the neck, leaned over me, and pinned me down to the carpet, covering me in slow kisses and a body which made me feel tiny and petite in comparison to the broad expanse of his chest and arms. My body warmed up to the change in topic, beginning to relax and excite.

“Yo, M-man, don't make me fight you for my sister's honor,” Leazar said, his voice all too close and coming closer.

Mordon pulled me into his lap, holding my arms against my sides, reading my intentions to launch off our carpet and take out my irritation on my brother.

Mordon said, “I'll squash you, feyling.”

“Daddio already give you that routine? You should have seen what he was like when I wanted to take a girl on a date.”

“Then,” Simbalene said in her light, bell like voice, “it is very well indeed that it was I who married you.”

Leazar looked proud. “Best night I can't remember.”

“You can't remember your own wedding?” I asked. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Just a half-glass or so. Remember all those warnings about eating fairy food and drink? Yeah, they're totally real. Don't do it. You'll either wake up naked in a church before Sunday service, or with a little befreckled redhead in your bed.” Leazar grasped Simbalene and made a kissy face at her. She shrieked and fought him off. He let her go and leaned back, pouting. “And we were friends before she doped me. I thought I could trust her.”

“You lie,” Simbalene said. “I ask if you'd marry, you say yes. Now you pretend—”

“My sister knows I'm teasing.”

Simbalene huffed, but didn't look upset.

Mordon said, “Did you follow us up here to talk, to enjoy the night, or to watch us enjoy it?”

My mouth dropped open in shock, but I snapped it closed again at my brother's grin. Anything to see me uncomfortable, brother dearest? Leazar toyed with a pink strand of his hair.

“Unfortunately, not the second option. Thankfully not the third. Now…I wish I had another time to address this, but I think I heard you mention the evacuation plan? Do you have a solution?”

The next while was occupied with the four of us refining the plan. I hoped that he would take the idea and leave me to Option Two, but other carpets arrived and soon a whole think-tank was happening on carpets on the uppermost foliage of the tallest elm tree in the center of the carnival.

Half of my mind followed after the line of questions, answers, and details that swirled all around me. My thoughts trudged a slow circle, searching for a way to save the Wildwoods, a way to stop the husks and Infection and the Unwritten. I couldn't just leave. The Immortal couldn't win this place, it just couldn't. The raw power behind the woods would be too hard to replace or get back. If this was a chess game, the Wildwoods was our queen, and she was either currently in check or would be soon.

When the carnival died down, it had all been settled. Three host possibilities for refugees had been selected. Kragdomen Colony, the sphynx Anhur's home, and some resort in the Grand Canyon which I'd never heard of before. They'd go through the list in that order, relying on the resort last, though it would be guaranteed to be available. It felt too much like a vacation for the caretakers to be comfortable with it. I nearly dozed, propped against Mordon with the lulling massage of his knuckles tracing mindless paths up and down my spine.

When he rocked into a new position, I snapped wide awake, aware of who was on the carpets around us. Of the most importance were my parents. Mother was talking.

“Are you sure the Elders will even consider us?”

Mordon's answer vibrated through my back. “They may be harsh at times, but I have yet to see them flatly deny a call for help, particularly when they have a ruling member speak.”

“Will you speak for us?” Mother asked.

“Yes, but I will have to talk with them tonight.”

“Do you have to do so in person?”

Mordon tensed. “It would be best, but under the circumstances, I refuse to leave my place here. If we can establish a scrying connection?”

“We should be able to. With the way things are, it'll take a few of us.”

“Then let us do it,” Mordon said.

The carpets drifted closer together and I watched as they assembled the items for scrying—a silver platter, a silk scrap, a pitcher of water which had been purified by unicorn horn. While the others waited, I saw bit by bit the distemper towards Mordon drop from their behavior. They were letting him help. They were choosing to trust him with their cherished village members. It was too tender, too fickle of a time to comment on it, so I just sat quiet.

When the scrying was over, Mordon's message through and the reply was a quick affirmative, the feys let out a collective sigh. Then, carpet by carpet, they left, though I doubted any of them would be resting.

“Mordon, I think there may be a little bit of good to come out of all this evil.”

“It's sad that's what it takes at times.”

“Keep on moving, before Mother finds us,” I said. “She won't stay with the evac list.”

Mordon grumbled under his breath, stretched out on his side to see which portals were all gone and which ones were just damaged. A map of cracks on the underside of a stone outcropping kept people updated on the network of portals, put there by the Council last night. Most of the Council members were still sleeping off the effort. According to Leazar, it had never been attempted before, and no wonder. Even with reportedly four in five portals dead, the map was a complete and utter tangle of hairline fractures which I couldn't make sense of, so Mordon was the one taking a look now.

“Got our location. Where do you want to go?” Mordon asked.

“I want to go to the biggest hole in the map, I figure that's where the Unwritten is, or at least where it's the worst.”

“Why did I have the mate with a death wish?”

“It's not too late to back out on that. The mate part.”

Twigs were in Mordon's hair when he leaned out from under the rock outcropping to frown at me. “There a reason you have been pursuing the subject?”

“Like impending doom and disaster isn't enough to be thinking on things I'd like to do?”