Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) (28 page)

It winds along cliffs and narrows dangerously, and I remember the point where the riders in my dream dismounted and left their horses behind. I think ahead to the black keep and the skeleton sentries and I steel myself. This time as we approach, he brings me along the side of the wall and leaps up impossibly high, to a parapet that is tucked against the black stone. We land lightly and silently on the wall, and Elliot slips with caution through the archway of a guard’s tower.

Inside, the keep is as grand as Cerion’s palace, but so dark it’s nearly impossible to see. I can make out only the walls on either side of us, which are lined with countless sentries standing an arm’s length apart from each other. There’s an unnatural stillness as we creep past them and I realize it’s because these aren’t men. They’re completely lifeless, not even breathing. I hold my own breath as Elliot pads softly along the corridor. He has shown me so much already, all of which I know are important parts of a larger picture, and despite the eeriness of the twisting corridors here, I feel safe with him. Here in this dark place, I’m filled with a sense of battle-readiness that makes me eager to see where this dark path leads and what he will show me next.

We ascend a long spiral staircase and the orange glow of firelight dances on the walls as we reach the top. Here, Elliot pauses just before the threshold of a grand circular room. He peers inside, through a ward that seems to be made of shadows and black coils. The effect reminds me of the cyclones in the field, and I lean away. Echoing my thoughts, Elliot takes a cautious step back. Beyond the magical barrier, I count six figures. Half of them are reclined in ornate cushioned chaises, sound asleep. The other half stand at a great arched balcony, shoulder to shoulder.

This room seems out of place in the otherwise sparse keep. The curved walls are draped with rich damask curtains in bold reds and purples, just like the towers in Zhaghen. A massive mirror over the hearth is set in a gilt frame, and even through the shadow barrier I can see Elliot’s golden eyes reflected back at us. Opposite the fireplace, there is a circular table lined with ornately carved chairs. The table is set for six with a feast that has already been well picked-over. Another mirror stands in the center of the room, atop a disc of shining sapphire not unlike the one Rian and I stood on at the ceremony that teleported us.

Movement by the three figures at the window catches my attention. One by one, each of them raises an arm and a clap of thunder echoes over us, shaking the walls. Then, from each upraised hand, a stream of black energy begins to form and swirl until three enormous cyclones swirl before them. Each Mage flings a hand forward and the cyclones drop out of sight beyond the window. The view outside causes me to clap my hand over my mouth. A golden field of wheat stretches out beneath the crisp cool blue sky, and far in the distance I can just make out a lush green forest. My heart starts to race as I realize what it means. Elliot has brought me inside of the Shadow Crag.

In the time it takes me to come to this realization, the three at the window have summoned and released three more cyclones. I tear my gaze from them and scan the room again, looking for any information that we could use. It’s difficult to see through the shadow barrier, but my eyes fall on the lap of one of the sleeping figures, where a blood-red polished slab rests gleaming in the firelight. One of the Mages turns away from the window and I see that his skin is completely blue-black from the Mark as he crosses the room to crouch nearby.

He yanks a crimson drape aside to reveal a cage stuffed with a score of tiny sleeping fairies. The Mage reaches in and pulls out a lovely one who instantly reminds me of Shush, with windswept blue hair and a green dress of feathers and dried leaves that shimmers with iridescence in the firelight. He hovers his free hand over her and I watch in disgust as he draws forth a stream of green and blue light from her which he absorbs into his palm. When he’s finally through and the energy fades to a wisp, the fae’s bright green skin and blue hair have drained to bone-white. I’m reminded of Flit lying on Viala’s desk and the twisted white fairies at the trees. My stomach twists as he tosses the helpless creature into a second cage, this one filled with similarly drained, unconscious fairies.

Elliot wriggles his shoulders slightly and I realize I’m gripping his fur so tightly in my fury that I’ve pulled some of it out by the roots. I loosen my grip and stroke it down apologetically. When he looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes echo my own rage. These Mages are using the fairies’ own magic against them. I wonder how my mother is managing the torrent of cyclones on her own. The Mage returns to the window, and one of his companions leaves to cross to the cage and pluck out another windblown fairy. I can’t watch it again. Instead, I lean to Elliot’s ear and whisper so quietly I’m barely mouthing the words.

“Why would they do this?” I ask. His only answer is to turn his head and stare at one of the hanging curtains, where an elaborately embroidered crest has been hung. The symbol in golden thread is a hand with a glowing globe hovering over it. The crest of Zhaghen.

We’re off again, this time he runs straight across the deep circular stairwell, toward the narrow slit of an archer’s window. I brace myself thinking it will be too narrow, but we slip through with no trouble at all. I feel a sudden change in my mood as Elliot prances to the south. Suddenly I feel both calmed and bolstered. The air is thick with magic as Elliot turns to the balcony where the three Mages stand. We dive to the craggy slope that the keep is perched upon and my breath catches in my throat at the scene that unfolds before me.

We’re running alongside the vast piles of gold and jewels at the base of the massive Shadow Crag. As the cyclones charge down the slope from the keep window, the black craggy stones of the mountainside grow to form human-sized figures. Golems, similar to Rian’s glass one at the trials and Flit’s figure of light that I trained against in the grotto. Some swing stone swords, while others have enormous clubs or just fists that they use against the cyclones, bursting them into wisps of shadow. With each defeat, tiny voices rise together throughout the battlefield in a victory cheer.

Elliot weaves carefully through the jagged battlefield of stone clashing with wind and I’m amazed to see that each of the rock golems has a fairy hovering nearby. Beside us, a glowing red golem of molten stone is torn apart by a cyclone, and the bright red-skinned fairy accompanying it is sucked into the swirling black mass. A larger gray golem rumbles up, trailing flakes of white ash behind it. It swings its stone club and the cyclone dissipates, dropping the captured fae to the ground and inciting yet another victory cheer.

“Thanks Ash!” the rumpled red fairy chirps and ruffles her short-cropped yellow hair before she waves her hand at a nearby pile of rock. It begins to glow red and liquid as it rises up into the form of a woman this time, with an elegant sword. She gives a squeaky battle cry and then charges together with her golem to an oncoming cyclone.

“Woo! Any time, Glow!” her rescuer calls after her as he sends his own gray golem against another attacker. “Get ‘em!”

“Who let that one past?” Ember’s familiar gruff voice shouts as she nears us. She points at Ash. “You! There’s a hole on the east side, get over there!” Her red-orange hair ripples and glows with wrath, and the sparks that trail behind her flash brightly as she dives past us in a commanding fury.

“You got it, Boss!” Ash gives a salute and guides his golem off to the east.

“Ember!” I call out, and she whips around, her eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps. “You’re early! I’m not leaving until moonrise!” A cyclone surges toward her and she throws her arms to the side. Nearby, an enormous shining black golem with glowing orange veins crashes into it and throttles it into oblivion. 

“I’m not here to collect you,” I say.

“What, then, just to have a chat?” she growls. “If you’re not going to help, then stay out of the way!” she screams over her shoulder as she speeds to the west side of the mountain, calling commands as she goes. “You, there, stop that one!” I whip around and watch as another cyclone finds a gap in the golems and charges away off across the piles of gold and jewels to disappear into the wheat. Ember’s golem, which had been chasing it, skids to a stop at the edge of the treasure, sending a spray of gold coins into the air. Ember turns back to me again. “You see that? Every one that gets past us goes straight to your mother! We don’t need you here distracting us! Fight or leave!” She darts away after her golem, calling it back to her.

“Fight,” I say to Elliot as I start to slide from his back. Here, I can wish myself back to my own size again, or even bigger. I have my sword. I can help. But Elliot nudges me back with his nose and turns to look pointedly up at the window where the Mages continue their summoning. He shakes his head firmly, and I get his message. For now, my part in this lies elsewhere, away from the Mages who want me dead.

Elliot leaps up to the sky, and we’re off again, faster and higher than before. My stomach sinks as we bolt eastward, away from the setting sun. To Cerion. I bury my face into his fur again and go over everything I’ve seen in my mind, from Viala talking me over the cliff to Margy mending Twig’s tether, and all the way to Zhaghen and back. The scene in the tower and the mountainside battle have my blood boiling. When he lands softly and I open my eyes to find us in the guild hall again, I’m relieved he has nothing more to show me. Now that we have all of the information we need, we can start our planning.

Emme has gone, and Rian doesn’t notice us at first. He’s at the table now, bent over the books and scrolls he grabbed from Viala’s desk. Her polished red slab lies on the table beside him, blank and gleaming. He’s taking fervent notes from one of the books, poring over a map, and he doesn’t notice me until Elliot deposits me on the table beside him and I step onto the page and lean on his quill hand.

“Hey,” he grins down at me. “Back already?”

“Wait until you hear where I was,” I say, tilting my head back to way up at his face.

“Oh, I know,” he says, and gestures to the map beside him, which has been marked with the course Elliot and I just finished. When I raise a questioning brow at him, he glances over his shoulder at the empty space where Elliot was just moments before. “A little fox told me while I was healing. Either that or I need to get my head looked at.”

“You saw everything?” I ask, thinking back over the journey that started with me trying to throw myself off the cliff. I try not to think of how far I might have gone if Elliot hadn’t intervened. I’m too ashamed to talk about that now, especially to Rian. “Did you see Zhaghen?” I ask. His expression darkens slightly and he nods.

“Awful,” he says. “The Academy is always using Zhaghen as an example of what could happen if magic is abused. There’s a general idea among the students that the masters exaggerate. I had no idea it’s really like that.”

“It got that way because of the Mages?” I ask.

“Mm.” He follows a passage in a book with his fingertip and takes a note, “You saw the city. Gold and jewels glittering in the bricks of the towers, ten stories of silk draping from the windows, all while others starve in the streets. It happened over decades, so they say at school. Slowly, so that at first they didn’t realize the damage they were doing. It might have started with a few decorations at a party.” He glances up at me meaningfully. “Magic has that effect. Slow intoxication. You do a little bit, and you want a little more until you’re blinded by the beauty and the power of it and you no longer see the damage you’re doing. And if you don’t know something exists, you can’t care about it. You just want more. And when there’s no more energy to draw from, you steal it from others. That’s when it stops being magic and starts becoming Sorcery. Those people you saw in the keep, they were wicked. Twisted by evil and selfishness. Sorcerers. Necromancers, too, from the looks of all of those skeletons.” He shakes his head.

“It’s why the Academy has so many restrictions and secrets. True students learn early on how important it is to have self-control. It’s one of the reasons Viala’s rising so quickly has always bothered me. It’s not like them to allow that. But she has always found a way to get around the rules, and for some reason, they let her. Not only that, it’s expensive. I always wondered how she was able to pay for her exams. Now I know. She had powerful backers.” I sit quietly, watching him work and thinking about what he’s said. After a while, Rian pauses from his note taking and tilts his head to one side, offering me a half-grin.

“Are you going to stay fairy sized? I thought the first thing you’d do when you got back would be to ask me to grow you up again.” I blink up at him. With my thoughts so full, it completely slipped my mind.

“Actually, yes, please!” I say, hopping down from my perch on a book spine.

“Oh, I don’t know,” his grin widens. “I kind of like you pocket-sized.” He offers me his hand, palm-up, and I climb into it.

“Don’t tease, Rian!” I chuckle at his mockingly serious expression as he ponders changing me back.

“Are you sure? I could make a little pouch for around my neck and carry you with me wherever I go. You’d be up high all of the time. You’d love it, I promise.” He wriggles his brow at me teasingly.

“Rian...” I wrinkle my nose at him in a very Flit-like manner.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” He cups his hand over me gently and lowers me to the floor. “I could teach you to do it yourself, now that you’re a Novice. Then you could grow and shrink whenever you’d like.”

“No,” I say straight away. I don’t even need to think about it. After what I’ve just seen, I want no part of magic. “No thank you. Please just do it.” I close my eyes and hear him murmur his spell, and I feel myself stretching up again. When I open them, I’m back to my own height. Almost. “Wasn’t I a little taller?” I ask him, coming to his side. I put my hand on top of my head and move it in a line to his shoulder. “I used to come at least to your chin, Rian!”

“Maybe I’ve grown,” he winks.

“Come on...”

“Oh, all right.” He wiggles his fingers and I shoot up another hand span.

“That’s better.” I smooth my braid and peer over his shoulder at his work. A glimmer of gold draws my gaze to the polished red tablet, where the swirling lines are beginning to form script. “Rian,” I whisper, and nod to it as a single word forms.

“Sunset.” It reads. Rian and I look at each other and then back to the tablet again.

“Should we reply?” I lean over it and watch as the words fade away. Rian does the same.

“Probably not,” he says. “It’s most likely the Sorcerers in the keep who are doing the writing, not the ruined fairies in Sunteri. Remember what the slab said to them? The ones crouched under the trees? It said ‘not long now.’ I expect that the Sorcerers are using that stolen magic to break their way into Kythshire. They need its magic now that their own is nearly depleted. They mean to steal it for themselves, and possibly for all of Zhaghen.

“Viala has been researching our Wellspring and the borders of Kythshire for quite a while now.” He gestures to the array of torn pages and books strewn across the table. “I’m sure she’s told them everything there is to know about it. That’s why they paid her way to study at our Academy. They were using her to infiltrate our libraries and gather as much information as she could about our source.” He picks up one of the books, a small, leather-bound journal filled with scarlet ink, and thumbs through it. “She writes that she eventually realized their dark intentions. She figured out exactly what they were using her for and tried to refuse to help them after that, and that was when they took her family.”

“How horrible...” I trail off, shaking my head.

“Don’t feel sorry for her, Azi,” Rian says sternly as he tosses the journal back onto the table. “Have you forgotten she wants to kill you? She already tried once.” He clenches his jaw as his eyes flash cold, but then he closes them and takes a deep settling breath, and I can see the discipline he mentioned earlier as his features settle back to calm again.

“I should have been able to tell that she was in my head,” I shake my head. “I was so determined that jumping off the wall would make everything right.” He places his fingertips under my chin gently and tilts it up to look at him.

“Sorcery,” he says. “Mind control is a branch of magic Cerion’s Mages never dare cross into. Viala has shown us exactly how far she’s willing to go.” He looks down at the tablet, now blank. The lines swirl again and then return to form the same word.

“So it’s sunset. What do they want?” I wonder as I slip my arms around him. When he does the same, his touch sends a rush of warmth through me. I sigh and lean into him.

“They’re just checking in on her, I imagine. To make sure she’s doing as she’s told.”

“Sunset. They gave her until tomorrow at sunset to get rid of the protectors.” I sigh and think of the pathetic bundles wrapped in the roots of the trees. Rian slides his page of notes to cover the slab just as Mouli bustles in with a tray of something that’s still sizzling. My mouth instantly waters as the aroma of roasted fish and root vegetables drifts over us.

“Oh, Azi, wonderful! You’re back in time for dinner.” She sets the tray on the table and beams at me, opening her arms for a hug. I slip from Rian’s arms a little reluctantly to accept hers. “Oh, dear,” she tsks as she squeezes my shoulders, “Don’t you two eat while you’re out doing whatever it is you’ve been doing? Sit down, sit down. I’ll fix you up with this and bring out seconds. Honestly!” She shakes her head as she sets out the plates, murmuring to herself. “Make me look bad, walking through the city looking like two starved strays!” She scoops a generous helping onto my plate, “Clothes hanging off of you...” she plucks at my tunic and pauses, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “This isn’t one I bought you, is it?” Rian and I exchange a glance.

“No,” I shove a heaping portion of fish into my mouth to distract her, “Mmm... sho good.” I say.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She scolds me with a swat before she turns to Rian and prods him. “You, too! Eat!” She stands over him until he takes a bite to placate her and nods appreciatively, and then she rushes off to the kitchen again.

When she’s gone, Rian pushes his plate aside and smoothes the map of the Known Lands surrounding Cerion. It’s covered with a thin sheet of tissue which he has marked with the path that Elliot and I took on our journey. He circles Zhaghen and then draws a line back to Cerion, along the Trade Road, through the mountains of Cerion Proper, and then circles Bane’s Pass. He draws a square and labels it “Keep/Crag?” I look at the map while he draws and realize something isn’t quite right.

“How can that be?” I ask as I lean over to look. Bane’s Pass, where we entered the keep with the Sorcerers, is in a deep ravine. According the map, one side of the ravine is bordered by a great lake and the other side is bordered by a channel of sea that separates it from Kythshire. It doesn’t meet up with Kythshire on the map the way it did when Elliot and I were there. “It’s wrong. It just shows water between Bane’s Pass and Kythshire.”

“Not wrong,” Rian glances to the doorway and pulls his plate back. He takes several large mouthfuls in quick succession, just as Mouli reappears with another tray. She examines our plates and nods her approval as she serves a bowl of warm honey breads and soft cheese. I snatch one up quickly and spread it with cheese and take a bite that melts on my tongue like a cloud. When I look up at Mouli to offer my appreciation, I find her staring at Rian’s marks on the map with a worried expression. She forces a smile when our eyes meet, and then she rushes out of the hall again. Rian is too focused on the map too notice. “Sorcery. That’s the only way to explain it. There are six of them. It’s certainly possible.”

“What is?” I ask. He draws a line connecting Bane’s Pass to Kythshire.

“The map is off, like you said. Only it wasn’t drawn wrong. They changed the landscape.” He shakes his head in awe. “I’ve only read about it in theory. No one has ever dared try it, as far as I know.” He presses his fingertips to his brow and shakes his head. “Azi, if they succeed, if they succeed in entering Kythshire, if they claim the Wellspring, everything we know will be destroyed. They won’t stop there. They’ll take Ceras’lain, and Cerion, and Haltil...and everything else within their reach. And everything will
be
within their reach, believe me.”

“How can we stop them?”

“With help,” he says. “And stealth. It’s already been set up for us, thanks to my da. Your father is moving here.” He taps the map. My eyes follow the line of the trade road that leads to Bane’s Pass, down which my father was leading a battalion of the king’s guard. I imagine him and his twenty men clashing against the countless skeletal sentries at the keep.

“Rian, they can’t!” I shake my head, “they’ll be outnumbered ten-to-one!” He draws another line, this one a route from Kythshire’s border to Bane’s Pass.

“Not with the guild beside them. Your uncle alone could take out half of those sentries with his siege magic.”

“They were trailing Redemption, though,” I say.

“I know,” he rests his chin in his hand and studies the map thoughtfully. “Da didn’t show us about our guild or Redemption, which means whatever they’re doing now isn’t something we need to concern ourselves with. He only showed us what we need to know to make a plan.”

“Which is what, exactly, then?”

“Well,” Rian holds up his hand and starts ticking off the list on his fingers, “You swore to the king that you’d stop Eron’s plotting with Viala as quietly as possible. We swore to the f—uh, anyway, we swore that we’d strip Viala if we saw good reason to, which we have, definitely.” He taps another finger, “and obviously, being the only ones who can move unseen within the Keep, we’re going to have to be the ones to stop the Sorcerers.”

“Oh, obviously. So, nothing too harrowing, then.” I groan and rake my fingers through my hair as he pats my shoulder reassuringly.

“We’ll have help, remember. The others will be here at moonrise. But I think our first step should be to figure out a way to rescue Viala’s family. Sunset tomorrow is the most pressing deadline we have right now.”

“You don’t want to strip her first?” I ask. Rian slides the map away and nibbles on a bite of his roll silently. “You think,” I offer quietly, “if we save her family, we might be able to save her, too, don’t you?” I shake my head, smelling the sea air and seeing the crisp blue line of the horizon stretched out before me as I step forward on the cliff wall. I see her kissing Eron’s jaw in the royal sitting room, the black tendrils of the Mark displayed proudly on her bare arms. I watch her pinch Flit by the wings and eye her greedily, see the dagger driven through her wings at the desk, watch as she’s drained of her vibrant color. All of it swirls before me as clearly in my memory as if it’s happening again, right now. My eyes narrow and flood with tears. How could he possibly want to help her? I’m so angry I can’t even look at him.

“Maybe,” he answers gently. “Who are we to decide who’s worth saving and who’s worth punishing? What would you have done in such a desperate situation? Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t do everything in your power to help the ones you love?” I realize I’m gripping the edge of the bench so hard my knuckles have gone white.

“She was plotting well before they had their hands on her family, Rian. Margy said she had her claws in the Prince back when he took his tour of Ceras’lain and crossed into Kythshire. Do you honestly think that sparing her will be enough to change her heart? Did you forget what she did to poor Flit? Some people are beyond help. She controlled me despite your sleep spell, Rian! Even unconscious, she’s dangerous. How is that even possible?”

“My sleep is a weak spell, compared to her Circle,” Rian sighs, “In theory, it really shouldn’t have even stuck. I was surprised when it did, but it’s not as strong as when I put it on your father. There are gaps. I suppose that’s the easiest way to explain it.” He frowns, “If she tries hard enough, she can push out of it. She already did, really. That’s how she was able to feed you suggestions. It’s amazing, really.”