The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) (2 page)

Surprised, Lev stared down at her. 
“What do you mean? I thought dabbling in machines and alchemy were already a
severe offense.”

Othella tucked away her
handkerchief and said, “Those things are punishable, yes, but treason is
worse.”

“
Treason?
”

“Harboring people from an enemy
race. That is treason. You are the only Slaugh that the Seelie Court has ever
given refuge to within our lands…at least, the only one they know about.”

Unable to wait for an explanation,
Lev dropped the crystal in her lap and spread his wings. He flapped them as
hard as he dared to propel himself down the passage.

The pool of light grew brighter. An
opening to a vast underground chamber lay ahead. Torches mounted high on the
walls gleamed off a lake below. Docks and stone platforms stretched over the
lake like a subterranean marina. Makeshift shelters of stone and salvaged wood
stood precariously along the lakeshore. It was a hidden village tucked within
the depths of the earth.

Gathered among the docks were dozens
of Slaugh, all teenagers and younger.

The sight knocked all the strength
out of Lev. He folded his wings and fell to his knees on the nearest dock.
Crouching, he stared at the ground then glanced up quickly to make sure his
eyes hadn’t deceived him

It was more than he’d ever dreamed.
He wasn’t the last Slaugh. There were other living, breathing Slaugh just like
him. None of them had brands on their faces. That meant they had somehow
escaped Marafae’s purge two years ago.

“Hey, Mister,” said a child’s
voice.

Lev felt a tug on his right wing. A
Slaugh toddler was staring at him. Her black eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Yes?” he asked.

She put out her tiny white hand and
touched the scar on his face. “Ouchie. Did that hurt?”

Something deep inside Lev reared
its head and he had to swallow hard to fight back the sudden warmth fogging his
eyes.

“It…it didn’t hurt much,” he said.
“Where are you from?”

“Noemi!” shouted a young Slaugh
woman. She looked only a little older than Lev and she wore her inky hair in
long dreadlocks. She flew over to the little girl.

Lev glanced around quickly. Nobody
else had noticed him yet.

“I told you to stay close!” the woman
scolded. She grabbed the little girl’s hand and gave it a slap. “What if you’d
fallen into the water and drowned?”

“Lookie, Mama!” the little girl
shouted. She pointed animatedly at Lev.

Lev hid his face behind his wing.

The woman barely gave him a glance
before tugging the little girl away. “Noemi, don’t bother people! You chatter
so much that they will think you were fathered by a Pixie!”

Noemi persisted. “But Mama, he has
an ouchie!”

At this, the dreadlocked woman took
a longer look at Lev. “You okay? Hey, I’ve never seen you here before.”

Lev kept his head ducked behind his
wing. “I’m fine.”

The woman watched him with the same
questioning gaze as her daughter. “No strangers here. What’s your name?”

Lev lifted his chin to look at her
while he tried to think of something to say. His hair fell back, revealing the
scar that had drawn Noemi’s interest.

Noemi’s mother clapped a hand to
her mouth. Her eyes went wide. “Great ghosts of oblivion!”

Her outburst drew the attention of
others. A Slaugh boy who was fishing nearby glimpsed Lev’s face and dropped his
spear in the water.

“It’s
him
!” the boy shouted.

A Slaugh girl with scrolling
tattoos on one arm flew to where Lev was standing. Her brow crinkled as she
studied him skeptically. “Can’t be,” she said.

“King Hagan!” Somebody shouted.

Every Slaugh in the underground
chamber flocked to get a closer look.

Lev tried to hide his face again,
but they surrounded him. He felt their prying eyes. Their hope and desperation
weighed heavily on him. Had they been waiting all this time? With a shudder he
lifted his head and stared all of them down.

“I’m not your king,” he said
loudly.

The crowd fell silent. His voice
echoed through the cavern, repeating “
I’m not your king
” over and over.

The boy who’d been fishing leaned
in close to examine Lev’s face. “But you look just like him.”

“Yeah!” said Noemi’s mother. She
made a protective sign with her fingers. “You’re either the ghost of Hagan
Winterwing or some other specter come from the Twi-Realm to fool us all.”

A chorus of agreeing murmurs came
from the crowd.

The girl with tattoos on her arms stared
Lev up and down. She was as tall as he was and the muscles beneath her tattoos
bulged slightly.

“He’s not King Hagan,” she said
decisively. Her eyes narrowed and she looked down her nose at those around her.
“You imbeciles. Can’t you see that he’s much shorter than King Hagan? Or have
you been among the Fay so long that it has muddled your minds?”

“I take offense to that, Katriel.”

To Lev’s surprise, Lord Mulberry
Finbarr elbowed his way out of the crowd. The short Fay man gave the girl
called Katriel a friendly smile. It was not returned.

“Seems I’ve yet to pick up on Slaugh
humor,” Lord Finbarr said to Lev with a wink.

“Well I’m right, aren’t I?” Katriel
asked Lord Finbarr in a pushy voice. She pointed at Lev. “This tadpole is too
young to be King Hagan.”

Lev scowled at Katriel. “
Mind
who you call a tadpole, commoner
,” he growled in the Slaugh language. 
“Where’d you get that tattoo, anyways? Looks like a Goblin did it.”

“
Vistkern
!” Katriel hissed.
It was a very dirty Slaugh insult that caused the dreadlocked lady to clap her
hands over little Noemi’s ears.

“Now, now,” Lord Finbarr said. “There’s
no need to get nasty. Allow me to make some introductions. As Katriel so
delicately pointed out, this young man is not your King Hagan.”

“I knew it!” Katriel said.

“But—” Lord Finbarr started to say.

A pang of conscience hit Lev. He
placed a hand on Lord Finbarr’s shoulder and shook his head. “They need to hear
it from me.”

Lord Finbarr gave a little nod and
stepped back.

Lev took a deep breath. He never
thought this day would come. Ever since the horror of Moonlight Pass, he’d
walked away from his previous life. He had abandoned his duties. He thought
they had all turned to dust with the bones on the battlefield.

Now the past was staring him in the
face and he had no choice but to confront it.

He cleared his throat. The
underground chamber was silent save for the rustling of wings.

“King Hagan—” he began. He
faltered. The words he’d never said stuck in his throat. He saw Noemi watching
him. Her pale face was full of wonder. It felt like ages since he’d seen a Slaugh
so young. Maybe there was hope yet.

“King Hagan Winterwing III was my
father,” Lev said. “I am Hugo Winterwing VI.”

He waited for the words to sink in.   

Katriel was the first one to speak.
“Prince Hugo was killed!” she shouted. “He was branded and executed with Queen
Linaeve!”

Lev pointed to the scar on his
face. “Branded, yes. Executed, no. My mother helped me to escape Bleeding
Bastion before they—” he had to pause again. He didn’t want them to hear the
despair in his voice.

Lord Finbarr gave him a bracing
squeeze on the arm.

“Queen Linaeve helped me escape
before they executed her,” Lev said, unable to meet their eyes any longer.

There was a moment of silence as
all present mourned anew their departed queen. Linaeve Winterwing had been a
disputed figure. Not all the Slaugh had accepted her because she was half Fay.
Now she gleamed from the past as a pillar of unshakable courage.

Katriel lowered her head. “Then
that
does
make you our king.”

“He is the only heir,” Lord Finbarr
said. “Do any of you disagree?”

Again, only silence filled the
space.

“Lev—er, I mean, King Hugo,” Lord
Finbarr said.

Lev’s wings gave an involuntary
twitch at the name. “Call me Lev,” he said. 

“No. From now on you are King
Hugo,” said Othella.

Lev turned to find her watching
from the narrow entrance to the chamber.

“You’ve hidden it long enough,” Othella
said. “It’s time to embrace it. Your people need a leader, and W.R.A.I.T.H.
needs a king as an ally more than you can possibly imagine right now.”

The forbidding tone of her voice
chilled Lev. “What has happened?”

Lord Finbarr sighed beside him. The
cheer went out of his round face. “We’ve obtained some news about Robyn.”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through
Lev. “Tell me.”

Lord Finbarr waved his hand in a
gesture to speak quietly. “We’ve found her mechamen. They’re building an army.”

Agitated, Lev scraped his wings
together. “Then what are you waiting for? They have to be stopped!”

“
We
can’t reach them,” Lord
Finbarr said.

Then it dawned on Lev. He knew why
they’d made him divulge his true identity.

“You want me to lead these people
against Robyn’s forces,” he said slowly. “A Fay-Slaugh alliance?”

“The first one in ages,” Lord
Finbarr said.

The proposal made Lev’s head reel.
If he took up Lord Finbarr’s request, he could continue what his father had
started years ago. He could unite his people under a common cause.

But he was also a realist. “We are
so few,” he whispered. “These are refugees, not soldiers.”

“Every Slaugh is a soldier,”
Othella said, locking her eyes to his. “Your father used to say that.”

Lev studied her anew. Those eyes,
so icy blue, had come up once or twice during his boyhood.
There isn’t a
word in our language for a color like that
, his mother used to say.
I
wish you could meet her, little lion.
Only lately had he come to realize
that she was talking about Othella. Now he had no doubts about the strength of
their friendship. He felt Othella’s grief at losing it every time she looked at
him.

But that was his mother. She’d
never mentioned his father before.

“We have weapons,” Othella said.
“Slaugh weapons. And armor. Your father was a brazen man, but he wasn’t stupid.
He knew there was always a chance of rebellion, so he kept a secret cache of
supplies. We’ve retrieved most of it.”

Stunned, he asked, “You knew him
well?”

Othella smiled. “Well enough, and
longer than anyone else. You have his looks. The first time I saw you I could
have sworn you were him, just as these Slaugh here did. I was worried that
you’d inherited his temperament as well, but watching you these past few months
I’ve come to see much more of Linaeve in you than Hagan. You look at me with
his eyes, but you have her heart.”

Lev watched the Slaugh refugees.
They looked hopeful, but they were all so young. A host of doubts swamped him.
Just because W.R.A.I.T.H. gave them shelter didn’t mean the rest of the Fay
would accept them. They were sure to meet with scorn and resistance.
Furthermore, they were being asked to fight against an enemy whose power was
not understood but greatly feared. There were important decisions to be made—too
many important decisions.

There was one other thing. Two
years ago, he’d promised himself that he’d stand by the gray-eyed girl of his
vision. Emma Wren was as much as part of Lev Hartwig’s life as the skin on his
bones and the blood in his veins.

Would there be room for her in King
Hugo’s life as well?

CHAPTER TWO

“You’re losing it!”

“I am not!” I shouted. Sweat poured
down my face. Just above my head floated a fat, pink, very confused fluffalo.

“It’s dropping! Focus!”

I fought the urge to hurl the
fluffalo at High Priestess Grimmoix. I’d been suspending things in mid-air all
morning and I was exhausted.

“One more minute!” the priestess
crowed.

I shook. It felt like my head was
about to explode. “I can’t!”

The fluffalo bawled as my magic
faltered. I dodged out of the way and regained control just in time to keep the
poor beast from crashing to the floor.

High Priestess Grimmoix let out a
sigh of irritation. Bits of gray hair had come loose from her head scarf so
that she looked more witchlike than usual. “Why don’t you just give up?”  

Scowling, I summoned my last
reserves. I watched anxiously for the last grains of sand in the hourglass on
the table to drop. The second the final grain fell, I let the fluffalo drop
clumsily to the floor.

Drained, I leaned against a table,
gasping for air.

“Hmph,” High Priestess Grimmoix
grumbled. She snapped her fingers and the fluffalo reverted to a small figurine.
“Progress. Very little. You’re not nearly where you should be with the induction
coming up in only a month.”

I rubbed my temples. Mornings in
the priestess’s study always wore me out. The closer I got to my formal
induction to the clergy, the meaner she became.

The fact that I’d lasted so long
astounded me as much as it irritated her. It had become evident within the
first month that I was not priestess material. Magic skills or lack thereof
aside, I wasn’t disciplined enough. My life outside the cathedral was one of mischief,
violence and flirtation. It got me no end of grief from the Door, the screening
device for entering the cathedral. The weathered old slab of wood was like a
sin-seeking radar. The only reason it let me into the cathedral at all was
because I was still in my one year grace period.

“Quit lollygagging,” Priestess
Grimmoix said. “You’re due at the cathedral.”