Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (12 page)

I turn away. Many of the court Mages are crumpled on the stairs. Some are dead, some wounded. People lie everywhere. Slumped over benches, sprawled on the floor. I scan the great hall and my eyes rest on Saesa, still pressed against the column where I left her. Pale. Wide-eyed. I nod to her and she pushes away from it and runs to me. Throws her arms around me. Turns to the others.

“My Lady Knight?” she asks, shaken. Lisabella looks up from the King. Rian calls to her from beside Master Gaethon, who’s slowly coming to.

“Azi’s safe,” he says. “I saw to it in the beginning.”

“My son,” the king whispers.

“I know, Tirnon. I know,” Lisabella continues to soothe him.

“Come, Majesty,” one of his guards offers gently. Helps him to stand.

“My son,” the king says again. He’s in shock. Lisabella and Benen and what’s left of the Royal Guard usher him through the palace doors. Back to the safety of the palace. Rian helps Gaethon up. I think they’ll follow the others, but instead they close the doors and start setting wards on them.

“How could this happen?” Saesa whispers to me as the rest of the Elite get to work. Donal is kneeling beside Mya, who was knocked out early on. Elliot holds her hand. Dacva is making his way from one Mage to the next, waking the sleeping. “How could one Sorcerer do all this?”

“It wasn’t just one. There was something else, too,” I say.

“Not here,” Rian warns as he jogs down the steps. Shush follows just above his head, tucked safely out of sight in the Half-Realm. Rian passes us by. Goes to check on his mother.

“How, indeed?” Master Gaethon looms on the steps, scowling. Pale. His eyes scan the destruction. “Everything we thought we knew has been disproved with a single act. A single, unthinkable, horrific act. Our King has been traumatized, and all of it performed masterfully before an audience of innocent men and women. This was a brazen flaunting of the worst kind of magic. Wicked, arcane, and destructive to the core.”

“I pray that His Majesty will keep a level head,” Mya says weakly as Donal leaves her to tend to more of the injured. “I fear his actions in the wake of this if he does not.”

“Nevertheless,” Gaethon’s gaze flicks to the West. Toward the Academy. “We must ensure the rest of the city was spared their wrath.” He looks to surviving Mages. Some of them are just now waking up. “You three, stay and clean up. The rest of you, with me. And you, Rian.” He flicks a finger and they all file out together, some leaning on others for support.

“Tib, Saesa,” Brother Donal calls wearily as he delivers healing to a man with a gash on his head. “If you would, please run to the Conclave and tell them what’s happened. We shall need more healers.”

“Yes, of course,” Saesa says a little distantly. “Come on, Tib.”

“The rest of the city,” I mumble once we’re outside. “You know what Gaethon meant. He needs to check on his precious Academy. Mages.” I huff.

“I know how you feel about them,” she clings to my arm. She’s still shaking.

“Not just them,” I start, and she finishes for me.

“Magic in general. Yes, I know,” she scowls. Goes quiet as we weave through forlorn-looking crowds still milling around outside of the Court. “Race you,” she says suddenly, and lets go of my arm and takes off. I chase after her. The rhythm of my feet pounding the cobbles clears my head. Running frees me. Keeps me from focusing on the faces of people lingering in the streets. More people who were probably inside when it happened. People who are scared, but don’t even know half of the truth of what went on.

The wind in my face reminds me of Shush. The Dawn. The Dusk. What did it mean? Who were those dark fae? How did that one Sorcerer cause so much havoc? When we finally reach the Conclave I’m out of breath and overwhelmed with questions. Saesa’s faster. I find her leaning against the white stone wall, panting with her head on her arm.

“Saesa?” I step closer. She’s not resting after all. She’s crying.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say.

“She left us,” she whispers through her tears. “Just left. Ran away and left everyone else to fight. Why? How could she?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like her,” I say, trying to comfort her. I think of Azi. Remember what Rian said in the gallery.
She’s safe. I saw to it.
“Maybe it wasn’t her choice. Maybe she was forced. Rian said he saw to her being safe. You know Mages.”

Azi

“A rare purpose? What does that even mean?” I ask.

I give in to the light a little and let myself lean into Flitt. I’m surprised by how strong and solid she feels now that we’re nearly the same size. Her magic drifts over me effortlessly, taking away my anxiety bit by bit, allowing me to focus on what she’s saying. “And how can I think to fulfill whatever it is without my friends beside me? I need them, Flitt. Rian and Saesa, Mum and Da, the Elite.”

“Honeycomb! Honestly, Azi! Every time! I ask a question, then you—”

“Flitt!” I growl.

“All right, all right,” she says, and gives the shoulder of my armor a placating pat. “I’ll answer your last one first, then. You won’t be without them. They’re all a part of this. You’re going to need them. All of them.”

“A part of—” I stop myself midway through asking and groan. “You know, just once I’d love to have a conversation with you without playing this game. It’s your question. Go, then.”

“Doesn’t it smell wonderful here? Like ripe berries and roses.”

“I…” I lean back in the grass and look at her curiously. Her purple ponytail slides lazily over her shoulder as she tilts her head to the side and widens her eyes. She waves her hand to try to hurry me to answer. “Yes, it’s lovely,” I say.

“Good, your turn. Ask that first question again,” she nods excitedly.

“You can’t tell me what to ask.”

“Azi!” she whines.

“What did you mean when you said I have a rare purpose?” I sit up again and watch her as she thinks on it. She sighs, looks up at the sky, and crosses her arms.

“I meant that there’s something only you can do, that we really need you to do. Well, I guess someone else could do it, strictly speaking, but it’s really unlikely that we’d ever find someone who’s so well suited for it. I mean, it’s not every day you find a human with your gifts who’s so trustworthy and not very selfish. And has friends like your friends. Well, sometimes you’re selfish, but it’s usually because you’re worried about other people. Like with the High Court. Oh, never mind I said that. You had almost forgotten about all of that and then I had to go and bring it up again. Sorry.”

She chews her lip and glances sidelong at me while I stare at her in disbelief. She didn’t really even answer the question.

“Thank you for the definition, but that’s not really what I meant,” I say.

“Well, that’s what you asked,” she huffs. “It’s not my fault you didn’t ask the question you wanted the answer to.”

“It’s your turn,” I hiss through my teeth at her.

“Don’t get all snaky,” she scolds. “You’re just out of practice, that’s all. Remember the first time we played?” She twirls a finger around her yellow ponytail.

“I do remember. It was just as frustrating,” I push myself to my feet and start pacing again.

“You got the hang of it after a while, though. Your turn again,” she stretches her legs out in front of her and taps her feet together excitedly. “Make it a good one.”

“What is it exactly,” I pause and think hard, making every word count, “you really need me to do in regards to this rare purpose, which is so important you’d whisk me here against my will in the midst of a battle that could very well mean the end of peace in my kingdom and possibly the deaths of people I’m sworn to protect?”

“Whoa,” her eyes go wide as I come to a stop right in front of her. “That was brilliant. Really brilliant. Excellent question. See, you just had to focus, that’s all.”

“Flitt.” I press my hand to my brow. My head is starting to ache from frustration.

“Don’t hate me. I can’t answer it,” she says with a cute little shrug and an impish smile.

“What?” I can’t help it. I lunge at her. She’s too fast, though. She pushes off from the grass and flies up out of my reach. “So help me!” I shout up at her. “You’d better stay up there, I swear!” I glare up at her and then realize her mistake in putting distance between us. Instantly I think of Rian. I start to feel the shimmer around me and then she dives into me, pinning me to the ground.

“Don’t,” she pleads as she straddles my chest. She’s surprisingly heavy for a fairy. “I was just playing. Don’t go. I can’t answer it, but I can show you something else.”

“Get,” I shove at her, “off!”

“Uh uh,” she shakes her head. “You have to promise to stay. It’s important, Azi. Really important. World changing important. Things are happening that never should happen. Bad things. Wicked things. Worse than Sorcerers. Worse than Jacek. Really bad.” She leans over me with her hands on my shoulders and her rainbow-colored ponytails spill forward, tickling my face. “Really, really bad. Please. Do you promise?”

“Worse than Jacek?” I look up at her.

“You can’t answer a question with a—” she stops herself at my death glare. “Worse than Jacek,” she whispers. Her eyes sparkle with tears and change from blue to red to silver. This close I can see she has no pupils, just orbs of ever-changing light that shimmers softly and unpredictably. I’ve never seen them so clearly, never been so drawn to them.

“I promise,” I say, tempted by the familiar tingle of magic rising inside me. I want to see what she’s seen; I want to know what’s in a fairy’s mind. I let it fill me: the desire, the rise of elation that comes when I let go and allow the magic to take over.

With it comes the guilt. I think of Rian and his hard fight for restraint. I shouldn’t let it entice me so much. I should shield myself from desiring it. It isn’t Flitt I feel threatened by, it’s the magic itself. The power. The thrill of it. I want it and I don’t. I’ve let it consume me before. It’s dangerous to let it call to me this way. I don’t want to give in, but at the same time, I ache for it. “Show me,” I say finally.

Flitt tips her head closer until her forehead rests against mine. Being this close to her is strange and wonderful. Her bangs brush my forehead, framing her round face in a rainbow halo. Flecks of light spill from every pore of her skin, which is smooth and fresh, pure and pale.

“Look, then,” she giggles, and I realize my eyes have been wandering everywhere but where they need to be. “Go on,” she whispers, sensing my hesitation.

My eyes meet hers and I’m immediately captivated by the shifting hues that ebb and flow there: green, blue, yellow, orange, then gold, everywhere gold. I tumble away from myself to drift in a shifting sea of color and light. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The most special, perfect, dazzling sight. My heart swells and races as I float weightless in the vast beauty of Flitt’s mind. It’s like no place I’ve ever been before, and unlike anything I’ve felt.

Floating here, I lose track of time. I lose track of everything. My own mind is soothed. Something vague and distant reminds me of some past danger, some lost opportunity, but right now it doesn’t matter. This is where I need to be. I hear a voice: a woman singing, beautiful and sweet. I’m drawn to it immediately. The song is more lovely than anything Mya has sung. It has no words, just emotion. It tells of light and dark, of good and evil, of wicked and righteous. One voice sings in harmony with itself, to describe the weak and frail and the constant battle between those who swear to keep them safe and those who might exploit them.

“Memi, what is The Dusk?” a child’s voice interrupts the song. The voice is Flitt’s but younger.

“The Dusk is the beginning of darkness,” the singing woman replies with a patient, nurturing tone.

“But who are they, really?” the child presses.

“Ask me again when you’ve found your place,” the woman says softly.

“I want to bring light where there isn’t any.” The child says eagerly “I want to help the weak ones.”

“Perhaps you shall one day, my little Sunbeam,” the woman replies kindly, and begins her song again.

She sings of the darkest places, where shadows lurk to pounce on the light. Thieves and ambushes, assassins and murders, Sorcerers and dark magic. The dusk that steals away the light.

“Why must they be so wicked?” Flitt asks. She sounds a little older now. I try to drift closer to get to a place where I can see her. “If I ever met a thief or a Sorcerer, I’d force them to change. I could go all around and make them good. Then there’d be no darkness. No cruelty.”

“What good is the light,” the woman’s voice is filled with amusement, “without the shadow? Balance in all things, my little Sunbeam.”

“That’s wicked to think that,” young Flitt says. “If there was light always, then everything would be good. There wouldn’t be darkness to lurk in. There’d be no cover for the evil ones. They’re foolish to think they can push us out. They can’t exist without us.”

I see them now: Two figures silhouetted in front of a shimmering pool. It sparkles and glitters with colorful light like a larger version of Flitt’s eyes. Young Flitt sits on her Memi’s lap, gazing up into her face.

“If there is light, there is shadow,” the woman explains. “Light casts it, you see. There is no way around that. Dawn and Dusk, little one. Light and shadow. Do you understand? One without the other is impossible.” She combs her fingers through Flitt’s long pastel hair.

“But who are, they, The Dusk?” she asks. “Zilliandin says they’re growing stronger. He says they’re coming. They could defeat us.”

“Zilliandin is wise, but that is a question for another time. Ask me again when you’ve found your place,” the woman says softly.

“One day,” Flitt sighs as she rests against the woman, “I’ll travel the known lands. I’ll bring my light where it’s needed. Anywhere it’s needed. I’ll keep the shadows away. I’ll stop them from ever harming this world.”

“So you shall, my little Sunbeam, if you wish it. Goodnight,” the woman kisses Flitt’s brow tenderly. The scene changes slowly, filling me with a sense of sadness. A pending farewell.

Upon a pristine ivory pedestal, Flitt’s Memi gazes down with a wistful smile. She wears a glistening silver crown of spider silk and dewdrops. Her throne stretches high over her head like sea coral or stag’s antlers, white and intricate and so tall that it disappears into the ceiling. Her gown of flower petals and dandelion fluff cascades around her, its train trailing down at least a hundred steps to where Flitt kneels before her.

Flitt is quiet, a little sad, but determined. As she looks up, other fairies begin to emerge to stand beside the throne of the queen, lining the pedestal on either side of her. Most give off the same light as Flitt and the Queen, but some are not as brilliant.

“So it is, then,” the queen says, her voice just as tender as it had been in the previous memories.

“Yes, Memi,” Flitt replies with pride. She looks down the rows of fairy children and back at the queen again. “I mean yes, Your Majesty,” she says gravely. The queen laughs softly.

“You shall always be my little Sunbeam, and I shall always be Memi to you, no matter where you go. But when you leave this place, you shall no longer be afforded the luxuries and care that is lavished upon you here, do you understand? Your status will be lost, and you shall have to find your own way in the Light. If you are determined to leave, then once you have declared it, what’s done is done.”

Slowly I’m aware of more than just the children. The palace, once a globe of pure white light, begins to fill with fa countless number of fairies.

“I saw it in her from the moment she was born,” a knobbly-looking male fairy speaks up. “She is not suited for the palace life. She is destined for distant places and greater challenges.”

“Thank you, Zilliandin,” the Queen nods gracefully, “as have so many others. And so, my Sunbeam, we must perform the ceremony. Come,” she gestures to Flitt who looks so small as she climbs the ivory staircase all the way up to the throne. When she reaches the top, the Queen embraces her.

“Do you intend to leave the Palace of the Dawn?” she asks a little tearfully.

“I do,” Flitt replies.

“Will you keep your allegiance to the Light?” the Queen asks.

“Always,” Flitt says. When the queen stands, tiny white petals flutter from her gown like snowflakes. They catch the light and drift lazily through the vast hall. Some of the watching fae giggle and chase after them, but most remain quiet, still, and watchful.

“Then go, my child, and find your place.” She smiles at Flitt and then turns to the others. “Today, we say farewell to our little one, who leaves us for places unknown. May her light shine even in her darkest hour. May she ever be a beacon for the Dawn.”

“A beacon for The Dawn!” everyone calls out in unison.

“Say farewell to your sisters and brothers, my Sunbeam, and go to the Ring at Kythshire, where my cousin presides. You will find a home there, and perhaps one day, your place.” She kisses Flitt on the forehead and hugs her, and Flitt turns to the line of fairies beside the throne. As she goes to each giving hugs and kisses, the scene fades away.

I feel myself falling, and with it comes the sensation of magic quickly draining away. The dread that always follows hits me hard as I slowly become aware of my own body again. My arms and legs are heavy. My body is like a stone. I jolt back to the present and Flitt looks away first to break the connection.

“Here,” she says, and starts shoving something into my mouth. Sugar cubes, one after another. Her light glows brightly, but it doesn’t help much with the desolation that feels like it’ll swallow me up. Between having to leave such a beautiful place and ceasing my Mentalism so quickly, I feel like I want to curl into a ball and sink into the earth. Flitt is still perched on my chest, though, so instead I just lie there and sob.