Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (43 page)

“
It’s time, Twig
,” Rian pushes to the fae.

“
Go, quickly,
” Twig replies. “
The Dawn is prepared. We’ll defend this place and the princess.
”

“What?” I whisper under my breath as Rian makes a quick gesture and fades away into the Half-Realm. From there, he vanishes. I can’t believe he’d leave us now, right in the middle of all of this, but there’s no time to wonder why.

At Margy’s shoulder, Twig spreads his arms wide. He closes his eyes and brings his hands together, then stretches them up to the sky. The flowering bushes at the Royal Guards’ feet begin to grow. Their strong roots crack the rock beneath them as they thicken into twisted brambles speckled with enormous flower buds, like a giant hedge between us and the outside. It grows taller and taller and stretches along the circle until we’re completely enclosed in a dome of thorny vines and white blooms as large as my head. Rather than disturb the wards, the hedge dome seems to strengthen them. The buds bloom open and cast beams of light across the gathering of Dusk so that everyone inside can see their numbers. Seventy, maybe a hundred. Including the guards between the low wall and the hedge, we have only half that.

Until the fairies begin to come. They emerge slowly at first from the glow of the blossoms. Hesitantly. Dressed in armor of bark and stone. Earth fairies. Twig’s charges, and then Shush’s, too. A soft breeze blows, and more come. Feathered and winged. Protected by carapaces and insect shells that catch the light in colorful reflections. They bear swords and spears and arrows. With them are golems of wind and wood and stone.

Quenson’s eyes glint with amusement.

“You expect us to be surprised?” he huffs and shakes his head. “You expect us to be intimidated by the fluttering of Light and flowers? You are all fools. Look, now. Behold the might of the Void. The power of obscurity. Death and darkness. Emptiness. Betrayal.”

Behind us, the fire pops and crackles. My heart sinks as I catch the glint of triumph in Quenson’s eyes. He looks past us to the pyre. Ash of the father. Son of the prince. I feel him before I can even turn to look. His presence at the pyre is strong, dark, and cruel. I take Margy’s shoulders and push her behind me. Slowly, I shift my feet to get a view of the king’s remains.

At the center of the pyre, a dark form swirls. The figure inside of it is barely visible. Black against black, silhouetted by fire.  A cyclone of shadows, with tendrils that lash out from it like whips. The energy of the cyclone is mixed. Light and dark. Innocent and tainted. It spins violently, but it doesn’t disturb the ashes or flames of the pyre. It doesn’t affect the king’s remains as it moves toward us onto the stone. General Kristan spins to face it, raising his sword boldly. The rest of the Elite close in around him, ready to join the fight, but the cyclone doesn’t advance. It swirls around the form inside it, revealing it slowly. Head of curls, crowned with flames of magic. Proud black doublet flecked with swirls of gold and silver like Mage Mark. A sword to rival any other sword, made of shadow and tendrils of darkness. The cyclone swirls at his shoulders like a cloak of blackest night. Like dark, cold churning ocean. Like the void. The embodiment of nothing.

His sneer is noble and haughty. Eyes filled with hunger. Eyes like hers. Like Margy’s. Her brother’s eyes. 

General Kristan’s sword tip trembles. He drops to his knees. He bows his head. His weapon clatters to the ground. At first I’m furious with his disloyalty to the princess, but then I see the truth. Eron’s power is impossible for him to resist. It flows from him so forcefully that it’s overwhelming, even to me.

“I come to claim my throne. My birthright,” says the prince. Slowly, he turns to Margy and raises his sword. “Stand aside, Sister.”

Azi

All the joys of my life, all the wonderful moments that warmed my heart are collected in this instance. The calm love of my mother, the courage and strength of my father, the friendship of the Elite. Rian’s passion, Flitt’s bright cheerfulness. They cloak me and bolster me. They nurture me and prepare me. They encourage and reassure me. They fold around me like the wings of a mother bird.
Wings. Wings. Wings.

Whispers of a wish course through me excitedly. Like Midwinter’s Feast Day. Mouli’s sweet rolls. Gifts from my family, given and received. Every happiness, every delight. Every promise of victory. Every swing of my sword in the name of honor and right. Defend the princess. Defend the light. Defend all that is good. Save Cerion.

The magic of the Wellspring gathers around me, forcing me upward and away. Out of the pool. Out of the copse of trees and into the sky. Flying. As I reach the clouds, I feel no fear. The sensation is exhilarating. Freedom, pure and perfect. Nothing can hold me. No one can stop me. I have the blessing of Kythshire and the power of light within me. It radiates from me like a beacon of elation.
Joy. Joy. Joy.

My wish, my hope, my right. Everyone’s right. To be free. To be happy. To be safe.

I soar over treetops and ocean, beaming with such glee that I can’t help but laugh. The moon is bright silvery blue. It casts its glittering light across the dark water, and I spin and dance and shoot away from it, to the east. Toward my people and my home, to do what I was meant to do. Bring light, have courage. Save Cerion.

Flitt giggles at my ear suddenly. Her voice is bright and amused. “Whoa, Azi! Look at you!” she squeaks. It takes me a moment to realize who she is, and that she’s talking to me. Azi. I was so bathed in the glow of the Wellspring, I had forgotten myself. I grin at her as the ground blurs beneath us.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“Home,” I say.

“But you can just go through the Half-Realm,” she darts around me as I climb and dive.

“This way is better,” I reply.

“Why is it better?” she dives for my pauldron and takes hold.

“It’s my turn for a question, if we’re playing,” I grin.

“Oh,” Flitt groans. “No, we’re not playing. Just answer.”

“Just answer!” I raise a brow at her. “Since when do you shirk the rules?”

“Ha! You asked a question. Since now. So, answer me. Why is this way better?”

“Because,” I reply, “this way, I can bring hope.”

I do a barrel roll and then spread my arms wide. Something bright catches my eye and I turn to look over my shoulder.

“Are those?” I gasp.

“Uh huh,” Flitt giggles. “Wings. Not real, of course, and not permanent. But yours, for when you need them. For times like now. Dark times. Times when you need to inspire. Made of light and magic from the Wellspring.”

The mountains streak past far below me and I push myself faster toward the east. Rian, my family; my need to see them and be held by them speeds me.

“I don’t want to be a fairy, Flitt,” I say to her. “I like being human.”

“Ha!” Flitt laughs into my ear. “You can’t be a fairy, you oaf! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Good, because—Oh no!” I yelp, and Flitt squeaks. “Saesa! I left her there!”

“You scared me!” she shoves at my face with her little hands. “Don’t do that!”

“Flitt!”

“All right,” she grumbles. “You get to Cerion. I’ll go back to Kythshire and bring Saesa to you. But be careful. Oh, and Azi?”

“Hm?”

“The offering is in your belt pouch. Don’t lose it!”

“I won’t lose it, Flitt,” I laugh and twirl and push my wings faster.

“You say that, but you lost my diamond—”

“That was two years ago, and it wasn’t my fault!”

“Just be careful. See you in Cerion.” She pecks my cheek with her tiny lips and vanishes, but the tingling sensation left behind by her kiss remains. It warms my cheeks, fills my heart to bursting, and propels me even faster than the wind. It lingers even after the pillars of smoke over Cerion emerge in the distance, and it lights my way even as the overcast sky goes dark and blots out the stars. I think of Mercy and my sword leaps to my hands as I bolt forward unflinchingly.

What I saw in the pool and what Rian and Tib showed me in Kythshire me culminate in my mind. Memories, visions, and portents. This battle was foreseen by many. This is a war that must be fought in order to win Brindelier for the Light. I push harder and fly faster, unafraid. Unwavering. Prepared for the battle ahead. Determined to face the enemy and secure my princess’s kingdom. Ready for the victory that already swells through me, waiting to be claimed.

I can see the pyre as I near, at the highest point of land past the palace. The orange glow of His Majesty’s flames makes my breath catch in my throat. I realize what it means. I’ve been gone too long. I missed the Day of Silence. I missed the procession and the viewing. My heart races with sudden regret, but I push it away. I was doing what I had to do for the princess. For Cerion and the Dawn. I was doing my duty as a Champion of Light, and with the king’s blessing, I remind myself. I was ensuring the safety of the princess by securing the offering.

My wings fold around me as I spiral downward toward the city and glide over rooftops. In the streets, the common folk have armed themselves with everything they can. They charge side by side with the King’s army against sentries like the ones we battled in Kythshire. Skeletons, animated by necromancy. Mages in Academy robes stand with the defenders, aiming spells at Sorcerers who lurk in shadows. Two Mages, three Sorcerers. One of them is so hidden I can only see him by Mercy’s light. I dive at him before he notices me, and the light of my blade skewers him before he has a chance to react. A dozen skeletons crumple as their master’s spell ends with his life. The battle pauses as everyone stares up at me.

“Keep fighting,” I shout, “for Cerion!” I glide away, leaving our fallen enemies behind, proud to see that even without me Cerion has the upper hand.

The same is true throughout the city: Mages, guards, and commoners fighting Sorcerers, imps, and skeletons. Not only those. There is another enemy. A flag I haven’t seen in years. Orange and red, just like Tib said. Redemption and the banished they’ve rallied from the Outlands flood through the streets. Their attacks are ruthless and filled with hate, but those loyal to Cerion don’t back down. They fight, and as I fly past I feel them bolstered by the light of my wings and my sword. Their cheers rise up and drown out the horrid war cries of the Dusk. Margy’s gift of light glows from many of those fighting, and my own light melds with theirs and gives them strength. Every battle I pass through pauses for just a moment, just long enough to give my allies the upper hand and the opportunity to cut down their enemies.

I soar toward the palace along the line of the cliffs, watching for other small battles to aid, but I find this area strangely quiet.

“
Azi
,” Shush’s voice rings through my mind. “
In here
.” I slow my flight and look around, trying to get a sense of where he is, and I’m surprised to find myself right outside of the Academy. Strangely, the place is completely abandoned. “
Quickly!
”

His urgency and the eerie silence of the building make me pause. I lower myself slowly to the cobbles and try to get a sense of what I’m hearing in my mind and what I’m seeing. Is it really Shush, or a Sorcerer’s trick? A warning seems to flare out from the walls of the school, telling me to run away. Commanding me to leave. I take a step back.

“It’s really me!” he shouts from a window far above, and his voice is carried on a harsh wind that threatens to push me back. “Fight through the wards, I need you!”

His words force a change in my perspective. Of course. Wards. That’s why the place is abandoned, to protect it. The mention of them brings them to my attention. The Academy is always lightly warded against outsiders, but tonight its protections are so strong they seem to be staving off even its own students from entry.

With a quick look over my shoulder, I push off from the stones and dart through the open window where Shush hovers waiting for me. My heart sinks in disappointment when I realize he’s alone. I thought for certain if he was here, Rian would be, too.

“He’s up at the pyre,” he whispers to me, obviously noting the disappointment in my eyes. “He’s safe, but something’s happened up there. Eron.”

“Eron?” I growl and tighten my grip on Mercy’s hilt as I spin toward the window again.

“Azi, no, not yet. We need to—”

“The princess?”

“She’s up there too, but no! Azi!” he darts in front of me and shouts, and the wind of his breath pushes me back into the room. “Twig, Rian, and Tib are all there. They have help. Mya and your parents are up there. They can hold their own. They’ll protect her. We have other business to tend to,” his voice fades to a whisper again toward the last of his words.

“What other business could possibly be more important— oh,” I gasp as the light of the vials catches my eye. “Are those…?”

The sight of the two vials floating in midair at the center of the room dazzles me so much that I can’t even finish my thought. One bottle is ash gray, filled with rose-gold liquid. The second is blood red and shines with pure gold. Both are scrawled with runes of protection that seem to crackle and spit at me the closer I get to them.

“We have three,” Shush whispers. “We can open the gate now.”

“How? And by ourselves? So soon? And in the middle of an attack?” I stare at the vials, unable to tear my gaze away even when a loud thump nearby should have drawn my attention.

“Focus, Azi!” Flitt chirps. She darts in front of me and claps her hands in my face.

“Oh, my lady,” Saesa breathes. I turn toward her to find my squire kneeling with her fist to her chest and her head bowed.

“Saesa? Why are you kneeling? Get up,” I say with a scowl. When she does and she looks at me, I see myself reflected in her eyes. It’s me, but changed. I’m radiant with light. The luminous wings gifted by the Wellspring drape my shoulders like soft feathers. I take a step closer and feel myself tumbling into her green eyes, wanting to see more.

“Azi!” Flitt snaps her fingers in my eye. “There’s no time for that right now. Listen. We have the three, and they know it. They’re all looking for you, and for the vials. We have to get to the gate and present the offering before they reach us. Listen! Azi!”

I blink my eyes repeatedly and shake my head.

“What’s happening to me, Flitt? Saesa, please stand up,” I say to my squire, who has sunk to her knees again in awe of me. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s just an aftereffect from the Source,” Shush explains. “It’ll fade. But Flitt’s right. We have to open the gate. Quickly.”

“How?” I ask as I reach for Saesa to pull her to her feet. “How do we find it, to open it?”

“Easy,” Rian’s voice sends a thrill of tingles through me. “Look outside.” I whirl to face him and find him kneeling two paces away, his head bowed.

“You, too?” I exclaim and rush to him. When I reach to take his arm, his fingers crackle at his chest. “Rian!” I say firmly. “For all that’s good in this world, will you
please
get up?”

“What did you do, Azi?” he whispers. His fingers spark and pop again as I move closer. He doesn’t shy away from my touch, but he doesn’t throw his arms around me, either, like he usually would.

“She went for a little dip, that’s all,” Flitt laughs. “Rian and Saesa, you’re being ridiculous. She’s still Azi. I’m surprised, Rian. Usually you’d be stuck to her face by now.”

As I place a hand on Rian’s shoulder, a surge of power sparks between us at my touch.  When I pull it away in surprise, my fingers glow with magic. I feel the exchange between us. I’ve given him strength; he’s given me love. Just as it always has been, but this time it’s tangible.

Rian gazes up at me, as if the gesture was permission for him to do so. Our eyes lock and my perspective shifts instantly to his. I see myself standing before him, a beacon of light in the dim room. I feel the awe he feels when he looks at me. I look completely different, and yet the same. My braid, as golden as it has ever been, has unraveled, leaving my hair free to float around my head as though I’m under water. My armor shines with a light of its own, blue as it always is, but dipped in gold so that the light that catches it doesn’t know what color to portray. It’s a shift and a shimmer that’s difficult to pin down. I try to make sense of it, but I can’t. It makes me want to look away, but I don’t. Instead, my eyes find my sword, which beams with light so bright that it obscures my hand and my arm up to my shoulder. My face, even as curious as I am now, is stern and kind all at once, like a warrior ready to rush in and defend the innocent. Then there are the wings. Not my wings, no. I won’t call them mine. They’re too mystical, too magical, to foreign to who I am. Yet they fit me. They suit my personality and what I stand for, just as Flitt’s iridescent ones do her, Twig’s sticks do him, and Shush’s dragonfly wings do him.

“All that,” Rian’s voice forces me back to my own mind again, my own perspective, “and they couldn’t make you just a smidge taller?” he chuckles and pulls me into his arms, and as I rest my head on his chest, and suddenly it’s the same as it always has been between us. Perfect, safe, and right. When he holds me, I’m just Azi again, a young woman with a fervent need to defend her people and to make things right. Azaeli Hammerfel, daughter of the Elite. Fiancée to Rian Eldinae, loyal to the throne of Cerion. Ambassador of Kythshire. Knight. Paladin.