Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (36 page)

I start hesitantly, but after a while the words begin to flow more easily. The others’ reaction is much what I would have expected. Heated, but better than I had hoped. His Majesty’s Advisors question me extensively on the archer. The Mages question me on my Mentalism. This opens a conversation with the elves, who have known Mentalists in Ceras’lain, apparently, and offer reassuring explanations of its workings. This leads to talk of different schools of Magic, and Margary’s gifts.

I take my seat between Mya and Flitt, who seems to have mostly accepted my apology, or is at least acting as though she has, for now.

“
Your Mark is gone
,” she pushes to me, tapping her own neck. I reach up and feel the place where the black Mark had crept. I glance at Rian, who sits between Elliot and Uncle Gaethon, and he breaks his thoughtful stare at the two of us to offer me a half-smile.

“
That was quick
,” I say. Flitt grins in reply.

“
That was tricky
,” Rian pushes to us both. “
Even for you, Flitt
.”

“
Don’t know what you’re talking about
,” Flitt pushes.

“
The Mark doesn’t work that way,
” Rian scowls. “
You put it on her, didn’t you?
”

“
Hush up, Stinky Mage
,” Flitt wrinkles her nose and sticks her cherry-red tongue out at Rian across the room.

I push my plate away and a Page comes to take it. What does he mean, she put it on me? Why would she do that? I think back to the sleeping archer. To her sudden appearance. How she told me I should be upstairs, with them. Being absent from the gathering was an insult to her after all her hard work getting everyone together. Not only had I hurt her feelings by ordering her and insinuating I’d use her to replenish myself, but I made her look foolish by not showing up in the dining hall when I ought to have been by her side.

“You
put the Mark on me? You made me go through all of that,
” I push to her in disbelief, “
just to save face?
”

Flitt shrugs apologetically. “
You’ve been wobbly since we came back to Cerion
.
Divided.
I needed you to be sure, not just in the magic of the Queen’s palace, but here, in front of your own king, of how important I am to you. It was the last test, I guess you’d say. Oh, don’t look so angry. I did you a favor. Now you don’t have to worry about those Mages looking at you that way. You don’t have to worry about having to tell everyone what you can do, either. That part’s over. Everyone knows. The elves even helped!”

I try hard to compose myself. She’s right. I don’t like the way she did it, but what’s done is done. I look across the table and catch Mum’s eye. She’s smiling at me with that same pride she showed when she first saw my gold Mark.

“Paba,” Margy says quietly, and the rest of the conversation dies down as the young princess stands up.

“Yes, dear child?” His Majesty gazes at her much the same way Mum looked at me: With wonder, awe, and respect.

“Now that everyone knows of my secret, and now that you’ve been shown the path the Dawn must take, there’s little time to lose,” she offers, a little unsure.

“Quite so,” King Tirnon rises from his seat to stand beside her. “The time for merriment is done, my friends. Now we must make a plan to push back against the scourge of Sorcery and their allies, the Dusk. We must work together to aid the Dawn in claiming the lost city,” he squeezes Margy’s shoulder. “I intend to address my kingdom before the sun sets this afternoon, so I hope we can agree on our course of action by then.”

The way Margy looks up at him, with such love and admiration, makes my heart swell with pride and affection for the two of them. My king and his daughter. Together, the two will rule Cerion and Brindelier both. I can’t think of a better pair of leaders. Margy, with her kind, gentle, steady heart, and His Majesty with his open mind and level head for justice and peace. The promise of the Light between them is strong. With the fairies and the elves by their side, the path of Cerion along with the Dawn is easily set.

Tib

The room where Celli brings me is just like the rest of the place. Dank. Shadowed. Heavy with wards and spells. The spells in this room are old. Elvish. Twisted. Like the spirits of a thousand trees. Wild. Like a wolf pinned in a trap, the energy thrashes around us when we enter. Set in place, but nowhere to go. Osven’s ghost wavers like he’s under the surface of a pool.

Celli closes the door behind us and just stands there. She doesn’t say a word. If I concentrate, I can feel the Sorcerer’s hold gripping her. Quenson. Quenson. I glance around and step closer to her. She presses herself back against the door. I need to get out of here. Back to that room we arrived in. Back to the bottles on the pedestals.

I look Celli over cautiously. She doesn’t react. She’s content. She’s done what she was told. Brought me here. Kept me here.

“What did they do to you, Celli?” I ask her. “You’re like a slave.”

“I’m not a slave,” she narrows her eyes. “My master honors me.”

“That’s what I mean. Your master? Since when?” I edge closer. “These are Sorcerers, Celli. They’re wicked. Dangerous.”

“My master strengthens and protects me,” she replies, like she’s bragging about it.

I sigh and turn away. Look around the room. It’s been ransacked. Books from shelves lay open, scattered across the desk, their pages torn out. Chests are tipped over, their contents spilled across the carpet. I cross to a chest and kneel beside it. There was magic on it. Wards and poisons. They’ve been spent, though. Now it’s just an ordinary, tipped over chest. No, not ordinary. Something’s inside. I see it. Feel it. Bundled up in an old robe. A creature. Something sleeping.

“Don’t touch anything,” Celli barks at me.

I don’t listen. I pinch the fine red silk between my fingertips and pull it aside. One of the black, leathery fairies lies sleeping there, curled into itself. It’s not as black as the other three I’ve seen. It’s less solid, somehow. Less here. This one has a different face, too. When I pull the last of the robe off of it, it startles awake and hisses at me.

“What are you doing here?” Celli demands angrily. She stalks close to the creature and crouches. “No one is to be in this room aside from my Master. These things are his now.”

“Master,” the creature whimpers. Its voice is strangely female. It eyes Celli’s wrist. The bracelet. I understand right away. That’s what’s keeping Osven’s ghost held to her.

The creature lunges and clings to Celli’s wrist, trying desperately to pull the bracelet free. Celli cruelly flings her across the room and then chases after her as she smacks the wall. Before I can reach them, she starts kicking the thing brutally, repeatedly.

“Celli!” I shout and try to push her away from the pathetic, whimpering creature.

“I am nothing, I am nothing,” the black fae whimpers. “Without him, nothing. Kill me. Let her kill me. If she doesn’t, they will.”

Celli fights against me, trying hard to land another kick. I shove her back.

“Is this how you treat a guest, Celli?” I ask, my voice strained with the effort. Her wild eyes flash. “That’s what your master said, wasn’t it? Treat me as a guest. I’m asking you, as a guest, stop. Stop it.”

“She hates me. She knows, she knows. When her master dies, she’ll be the same as me. Nothing, nothing,” the pathetic creature curls up again and starts sobbing.

Celli’s eyes fill with disgust and hatred for the creature. She shuffles her feet and fights against me, but I see the conflict in her. She wants to kill this thing. She hates it. But her Master’s orders come first.

“Water, Celli?” I ask her. “I’m thirsty, and I need to wash my wound.” I point to the shallow cut that Dub had left with his knife.

“Dub did that. You won’t tell my lord, will you?” Celli asks, momentarily distracted from the simpering ball of scales and black fur.

“I won’t, if you go and get me some water,” I say, rubbing my neck.

“I shouldn’t leave you,” she replies.

“That’s not what he said,” I say slowly. “He said treat me as a guest, and he made me agree to behave like one. You heard me. I agreed. Right? Where am I going to go anyway, Celli? This place is too well protected.”

“That doesn’t matter to you,” she says, pursing her lips. “Their spells can’t stop you. You got away before. You tricked my master.”

“Celli…” I sigh and scowl. “It’s just water. Should a guest be made to beg?”

Her gaze flicks from me to the creature and back again. I can see the conflict in her. She despises that thing, that example of what might become of her. She wants to forget it. To snuff it out.

I cough dramatically and rub my throat. Celli narrows her eyes and glares at me.

“Fine,” she says reluctantly. “You’d better not move from that spot, though.”

I drop to the floor and sit cross legged. At my knee, the creature shivers.

“I swear,” I say to Celli.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and then, reluctantly, she slips out of the room.

“You should have let her end me,” the creature whimpers. “I am nothing now. Master is gone. Stolen from me. I cannot reach him. Only through my own death. Into darkness. Do me this mercy. End me. I am nothing. Worthless.”

I stare at the thing, ugly and mangled and spent. Her leathery wings are twisted and torn. The hair on her head is a shag of charred black moss. The rest of her is almost nothing, like she says. Bone and scales.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

“Nothing and no one,” she says.

“My name is Tib,” I offer. She doesn’t say anything. “What was your name, before?” I ask. I’m thankful for Nessa and Saesa, who taught me how to get information. To gain trust. Make it about them, they’d say.

“Before the master?” she asks. I nod. She thinks a while. I don’t interrupt. Silence speaks volumes.

“Vae. Vicious Arson Envious,” she replies.

“Arson. Are you a fire fae?” I ask her. “Or, were you?”

“Cinders and soot. Burning coals. We change things. We destroy so there can be new birth. We meld and mold and make stronger.” When she speaks, I see a flash of something beneath the edge of her wing. Orange, like flames. A vein, like red coals blackened over. I feel the heat coming from her. The fire inside being stoked. The memory of her former self is being kindled.

“But, they are gone. All taken. Lost. Dead. Destroyed. All I have, all I had, was Master. He helped me. Saved me. Kept me,” she cries and curls herself tighter. “She’ll see. One day, hers will be gone, too, and she’ll be nothing. Nothing but memories of the things they made her do.”

“Who’s gone? Other fae? The Sorcerers killed them?”

“No, they are not fae. We are not fae. Fae are Dawn. We are Dusk.”

“What are you, if not fae?”

“Imps. The dark reflection. Shadows in the mirror. Crag and stone. From deep within the mountain. Molten, cracked, reformed,” she whispers, like what she’s saying is forbidden. “Oshteveska furle drulevents. Kerevorna.”

Her words have power. Ancient feelings. I sense them circling around her as she speaks them. Like runes and wards. Ancient spells, forgotten a long time ago.

“You have given me these recollections,” she whispers.

“Crag and stone,” I whisper. At first I think of Iren, but then I remember what Valenor said about the Wellsprings. My heart thumps in my chest. “Are you from Hywilkin?”

“Hywilkin. Master was to take me home,” she whimpers. “He was, and I was bound to give him a gift most splendid. Most precious and perfect. I was his, and he was mine. Our secret. And now he is dead, and I am nothing. Nothing.”

“Vae,” I say to her carefully, “you are not. You’re not nothing. You’re very important. How many more are there here, from Hywilkin?”

“I…” she closes her huge black eyes. “Many. Many here, stolen from our homes. Children. But we are lost. Divided. No longer kin. They have sliced our bonds and ties. We live for the Dusk, now. The Great Source will belong to The Void, and we will be returned.”

“Is that what your master told you?” I ask with a scowl. Her brow knits together. She curls her bony fists up under her chin. Across the room, the door latch clicks. Celli’s coming back.

“He kept me safe,” she cries. “Now he is dead, and I am nothing.”

“Stay with me,” I whisper hurriedly. “I have to go to Hywilkin, too. I’ll protect you and I’ll bring you home if you show me the way.”

“Water,” Celli barks. She drops the pitcher onto the desk with a loud clang. “Serve yourself.”

She goes back to the door and leans against it. I eye her stance as I push myself to my feet and walk to the desk.

“I would have left already if I was going to,” I say to her. “You don’t have to guard me.” I pour some water into a cup and sniff it. Smells fine. No magic. I take a sip. Seems all right.

“Master will be here in a moment. I won’t have him disappointed in me,” she sneers. Her eyes flick to the floor where she’d left Vae. “Where’s the imp?” she asks.

I shrug and glance at the same spot. Vae is gone. My healed eye flicks around the room and spots her, surprisingly, just above my shoulder. Hidden away. When I think hard, I can feel her heat right at my earlobe.

“You scared her away, I guess,” I say, covering for her.

“Good enough,” Celli huffs. “Osven is mine now. He can’t own anything. Especially not a filthy imp like her. If anything, she belongs to my master now.”

I hear a low hiss and a pop beside my head, and I reach up to scratch my neck. I stick my little finger out, like an offering to the imp. To my surprise, she takes it. Her hands are like tiny searing irons, but I try not to flinch.

Beside Celli, the air wavers and shifts. I see the outline of Osven for just a moment before he fades from view. I wonder if Vae did, too. If she did, she’s not reacting.

I sip my water and wait for Quenson, all the while thinking about what I’ve gotten myself into. Tricking my way into a keep full of Sorcerers is one thing. Sneaking around, befriending dusk imps was not part of my plan. How can I know she’s to be trusted? What if she was planted here for me to find? What if the whole thing was a setup? The more I think about it, the more I realize my mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to her at all. Maybe I should have let Celli kill her.

The door swings open, interrupting my thoughts. Quenson simply looks at Celli and she falls into place behind him. In his presence, Vae ducks behind me. I feel her fingers weave into the straps of my bandolier. She tucks herself safely to my back. The heat of her charcoal body feels like it’ll burn through my shirt.

“You are fortunate, Tibreseli,” Quenson says with a velvety tone. “My associates have agreed to see you. It isn’t every day that a guest from outside is welcomed so eagerly. I hope you will show them your gratitude by offering, at the very least, your respect.”

He ushers me out the door and walks beside me in the passage. Celli trails behind us both.

“You see,” Quenson says in hushed tones, “the True Dusk is quite startling at first meeting. Such power, you will not encounter again in your lifetime. Some call it The Void, and it is a true and mighty wonder to behold.”

“Why does he want to see me?” I ask with a smirk. If this Void is so powerful, I don’t see where I fit into the picture.

“They, Tibreseli,” Quenson says, and pauses. He turns. His eyes bore into me. “They. They are all the darkness, all the pain, all the fear and hatred ever mustered. Dusk is too weak a word for them, Tibreseli, for the power they hold is unending. Infinite. Omnipotent.”

I don’t say anything. Somehow, his words don’t bother me. If this Void is so powerful, why does it need to hide away? Why does it care that I even exist? If it’s so omnipotent, why doesn’t it already hold Brindelier? Why does it need a simple boy like me to find it?

After an endless journey through winding passages, we finally reach a set of iron doors two stories high. All sorts of runes are molded into them. Runes and scenes that are horrible to look at. Meant to scare. To intimidate. They just make me shake my head. It’s like they’re trying too hard to make sure everyone here knows how wicked they are. I find it a little amusing, more than anything.

Clinging to the back of my bandolier, Vae trembles. I want to tell her to wait here, but I don’t have a way to do it without the others hearing. Sometimes I wish I could push my thoughts, like Azi and Rian do. I only ever could accept them from Mevyn. Even if I could, though, I wouldn’t trust her enough for that, yet. 

The doors swing open and Quenson gestures for me to go in. He’s staying outside. Celli is, too. So is Vae, apparently. I know why as soon as I step in. The power of magic in here is so overwhelming it feels like a hammer to my chest. If it’s this strong to me, I can’t imagine what it must be like for anyone else. I go in. As soon as I step over the threshold, the power abruptly ends.

The doors creak closed with a thundering boom. Inside, it’s black as pitch. There’s nothing. No one. I stand in silence, searching the darkness with my healed eye. Trying to see something. Anything. Anyone. There’s no magic here. No power. It’s just as Quenson said. A void.
The
Void.

Time passes. How much time, I don’t know. I call out, but no one answers. I start to pace along the metal wall, measuring the room with my footsteps. There is nothing here. Nothing. No one. No sound. No sense. I count a hundred paces along the wall and still no corner. No turn. I count a hundred more. This place is vast. Unending. Empty of everything, even light. Even me. Three hundred paces. Four.