Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) (34 page)

I hear only silence as I watch the sparkling energy encase my blade and creep across the hilt. Magic erupts around me in slow motion as the shattered mirror holds my weapon in its grip. I’m vaguely aware of the fight, but my concern is with my sword. Flitt hovers before me. She’s shouting something into my face, but I can’t hear her. Lightning streaks past my shoulder from the balcony side, and it’s blocked by a spray of red embers. I see Rian in the corner of my eye shouting, throwing spells.

It’s as if I’m in another place and time, watching the battle rage around me but hearing none of it. Then they are on me. The wind fairies dive at my hands, wrenching my fingers, loosening my grip on my sword as the mirror’s unleashed magic crawls up to the hilt. I fight them. I don’t want to let it go. This sword was made by my father, a gift of love, a reward for hard work. I can’t lose it.

One of the fairies is caught by the magic and pulled into the now whirling vortex where the mirror once stood. Still, the others work to free my grip as the energy creeps closer. I realize the fight is lost as I watch the single, brave little fairy swirling away into the unknown. As much as I love my sword, I can't allow the fae to be taken. I let the weapon slip from my fingers and lunge for the terrified creature to scoop it out of the vortex’s hold. As my sword spins away, I throw myself away from it and the raging thunder of the battle around me pounds my senses. As soon as we're clear, the fairy squirms from my hand and darts to safety. Rian screams an incantation above me and the power of his spell clashes with one flung from across the room by Gorgen, who charges us both.

I find my feet and put myself between him and Rian as they exchange another round of spells, but Gorgen bests him, sending him sprawling into a heap of stone at the far end of the room. Relentless, he surges toward Rian again. I charge the old man in a fury, my arms raised as though my sword is still with me. When I bring them down something solidifies against my palms and as I close my hands around it, the ice sword streaks between us leaving a sizzle of steam thick in the air. Gorgen stumbles backward over a fallen beam and I take the opening. I expect to be met with some ward of protection or spell of shielding, but whatever he might have had on him has long been broken.

The sword slices cleanly through the front of his robes, sizzling as the chill of the blade meets his warm flesh. It’s a killing blow, one that I’ve practiced a hundred times on the dummies in the yard. Clean and quick and merciful. Kinder than he deserves. His eyes go wide and distant, and by the time I pull the sword free, his life has left him. I turn away and lower my weapon, and Flitt stares at me in wide-eyed silence. As our eyes meet, I wonder fleetingly if she sees me differently now. Can we still be friends, now that I’ve killed someone? She’s the first to look away, flying off to help the fairy who had been caught in the vortex.

“Go quickly, now’s your chance! All of you, back home! Go, go!” she cries, shooing them. Shaken, I turn to Rian who has recovered from his fall. He doesn’t seem harmed, but our reprieve is a short one. Ornis and Emris’ attention is drawn from the battle outside to the fading whirlpool of magic that is slowing where the mirror once stood. One by one the wind fairies shimmer and dart past them through the gaping hole in the wall, off to Kythshire. Now, as the two Sorcerers approach, only Shush, Flitt, and Ember remain with us in the keep. I’m unsure whether the Sorcerers can see us at first, but if they can they don’t seem to be interested in us at all. Instead they watch in horror as the vortex shrinks further and further until it is no more, and the broken frame of the mirror crashes to the cracked floor. Enraged, Emris turns to Ornis.

“See what your laziness has cost us!” he screams, thrusting his arms outward in a blast of orange flame that sends Ornis careening across the room. Above us, the ceiling rumbles and cracks. My instinct tells me to run, but instead Rian and I cling to each other, rooted to the spot, unable to look away as the enraged Sorcerers lock in a furious battle.

Ornis raises his arms and the pile of rubble around him collects into the form of a giant fist, which thrusts at Emris with impossible speed and force. Emris cries out and a powerful whirlwind swirls from his hand, breaking the fist to bits and sending chunks of stone in a spray across the room as swift as arrows. I step in front of Rian as we’re pelted with them, shielding him with my armor. Rian whispers a spell and I feel us fade into the Half-Realm again. 

Ornis is not so fortunate. One of the stones pierces his cheek. Another drives through his chest, leaving a blood-soaked stain that pools quickly, darkening the red velvet.  Enraged, Ornis summons again, this time collecting broken shards of glass from the mirror in a shimmering ball before him. Emris is too quick for him, though. He sends a burst of dark matter careening toward the ball and it explodes in Ornis’s direction, shredding his skin as easily as his fine robes. I turn away and bury my face into Rian’s chest at the gruesome sight as Ornis screams in agony, and again the ceiling cracks. 

"It's going to cave," Rian grips my wrists and pulls me to the door, but not quickly enough. A final deafening rumble sends the ceiling collapsing down on us. Rian calls out a quick incantation and throws his arms wide, and a circle of glowing white energy encases us. Massive chunks of the ceiling and thick supporting beams bounce and roll off the field with crash, creating a billowing cloud of dust beyond his magical wall. The ceiling is gone now, and sunlight streams in above us.

"Flitt!" I cry as I press my hands against the glass-like surface. "Shush! Ember!" I squint out into the dust, desperate to catch a glimpse of any one them, but it's no use. I can't see a thing, and the battle has gone eerily still and silent. Then, the tiniest sound echoes in our bubble: a sneeze, right at my shoulder.

"We're okay!" Flitt chirps happily, sneezing again. Beside her, Shush nods enthusiastically.

"Thank you for saving my little ones," he says to Rian in his usual rushed whisper. Rian has just enough time to nod before Iren's voice sets the floor rumbling again.

"Six there were, now three remain," it echoes across the one remaining wall. "Emris of Devniban. Sekrin, Defiler of Life. Majniver of the Desert Stone. You will not cross into our lands. Return to your own lands, depleted and wasted. Begone or forfeit your lives." Rian and I press ourselves against the invisible wall and peer out into the ruins. Our little bubble is framed by the arched doorway as we stand just outside on the landing above the spiral stairwell.

"Emris survived this?" Rian breathes as the dust slowly begins to settle. There is only one wall left standing after the ceiling's collapse, and the floor has also crumbled so that it slopes down into the mountainside. Outside, the stone fairies line the edge of the rubble, shoulder-to-shoulder with their golems. Ember bobs at the center of them all as they peer warily up, her own golem nearly double the size of the rest.

"How," the Sorcerer's voice comes in a wail from somewhere nearby, carried on the mountain wind that now whips through the battered keep, "how did it go so wrong, so quickly?" I search the piles of stone to see his frail form clambering over a wide beam. He reaches to the other side of it and pulls a limp hand to his chest. "Ornis, my friend," he says thickly, "how did this happen?" He presses the bloodied hand to his cheek, and I blink in disbelief as Ornis's wide apparition rises up from the rubble beside him. He bends to Emris's ear and raises a hand that's merely a wisp of energy as he speaks. We can't hear his words, but beside me I feel Rian go rigid as the spirit points in our direction.

"Oh, no. Spiritspeak. Get ready," he murmurs to me as Emris' expression changes slowly from despair to fury.

"Rian Eldinae!" The elder Sorcerer roars as Ornis fades away. "Show yourself!" He levitates to drift over the rubble. "What have you done? Ornis was my friend!" he howls with lament. "What have you made me do? Unforgivable and yet," his fury wanes slightly as he slows, his tone growing almost reverent, "yet brilliant. Rian Eldinae," he continues to search, at one point breezing right past us. "Your talents are wasted in Cerion. Brilliant, brilliant. I never even suspected...never saw it." He laughs a little manically.

"Rian, what's he talking about?" I whisper. "What did you do?" He glances at me and looks away, but not before I note the fear in his eyes. "Rian?"

"I didn't think it would really work. I didn't know it would go that far. They were so worked up..." He trails off as Emris picks up his pace, throwing spells left and right in his frantic effort to reveal us. He's growing tired, I can tell. Even in his anger his shoulders are hunched, his eyes drooping. "Ornis didn't attack him," Rian whispers. "I did. Or rather, I compelled Ornis to."

"What?" I stare at him in disbelief.

"He was furious. His mind was weak and clouded with anger. I controlled him. I attacked Emris through him. I didn't think it would work. A Sorcerer, fiftieth circle at least! I didn't think I had the power." His eyes flash with a frightening wildness, and I'm so shocked that I don't even know how to respond. It doesn't matter, though, because in that moment one of Emris' aimless Revealers strikes the force field, causing a crackle of energy to cascade to the floor as it's broken. Emris's eyes light with triumph and he casts the spell again. Before we can react, the air shimmers around us, and I know that the Revealer has taken. He can see us now.

With Emris hovering this close to us, the intricate design of the Mark on his completely blackened skin is striking. It covers his wrinkled face like a shroud, and coats his scalp beneath his white hair. It is so deeply etched into him that the skin is raised and purplish, like a fresh scar. His dark eyes are nearly indiscernible as they trace over Rian and then turn to me. Flitt and Shush have ducked behind my shoulder, and I angle myself protectively between them and the Sorcerer as he glares at us with pure hatred.

"Leave the young ones," Iren booms from outside. "It is not too late, Emris of Devniban. Begone to Sunteri, never to return, and your misdeeds here shall be forgotten."

Emris doesn't acknowledge Iren. He takes in my armor, the braid at my shoulder, the empty harness that once held my sword. His mouth curves up into a wicked smile. "Azaeli the Protector," he laughs and moves closer. "So slight, so full of heart and yet," he pauses, his awful black eyes boring into me. "Yet not so pure as you were before you entered these walls." I recall my ice sword sliding into Gorgen and fight the shudder that threatens my disciplined stance.

"Bound by blood to a promise made by ancestors long dead," he hisses his disapproval. "Yet it is an oath easily broken, Azaeli. You need but to declare your defiance, and you shall be released." He tilts his head to the side sympathetically. "Oh, did no one tell you that? Secrets, secrets and deception. Even Rian kept what he knew from you, did he not?"

"You dare--" Rian growls, snapping Emris' attention away from me.

"And Rian Eldinae, Protégé of Gaethon, next in line for greatness at Cerion's pathetic Academy," Emris sneers. "Surely you see now that you are capable of so much more." He moves closer to Rian, examining him like some impressive artifact. "Power, stripped from one, given to another, amplified by the fae themselves. How," he laughs with slight amazement, "how are you managing to contain it? How have you not yet gone mad with the ecstasy of it?" Rian says nothing in reply, his expression a mix of defiance and distaste. "We can learn from each other, you and I," Emris offers gently. "Together, all of it could be ours."

"Do not heed him, Rian Eldinae," Iren's voice rumbles over us. "He would have you destroy all that you love. Emris of Devniban, twice I have warned you, and twice you have ignored my words. Hear me now. You shall be utterly destroyed, your threats against our lands ceased forever."

"Empty words," Emris laughs as he shouts his reply to Iren. "You are confined to the mountain, you great rock, and I am not within your precious borders now. You saw to that when you destroyed these walls. And so you are powerless to touch me." His eyes glint at Rian. "You and I," he whispers hungrily, "will have no such limitations on our power when Kythshire is ours."

"
When Rian says Cerion
," Flitt's voice echoes in my mind, "d
uck
." I glance at Rian and note the familiar mischievous gleam in his eye. Something spectacular and most likely dangerous is about to happen. He doesn't want to give it away, though, and so his gaze remains locked with Emris'. The Sorcerer seems to take his expression to mean that Rian is actually considering his offer.

"Your callous pride will be your demise." Iren booms from the mountainside. "You will not survive this day, Emris of Devniban."

Emris leans closer to Rian. "Imagine the power you could unleash." Rian swallows, his fingers crackling with chaotic energy fighting to burst forth. Emris eyes his hands. "Imagine the sweet release. Have you ever fought against a mountain spirit, boy?" Rian, in response, risks a shake of his head.

"We don't have them in Cerion."

It happens in an instant. I duck down as Flitt instructed, and her colorful light bursts forth with a power so dazzling it makes my eyes sting. I squeeze them shut and brace myself as a commanding voice blasts across me from beside her. At first I'm stunned because I've only ever heard him whisper, but Shush's voice begins like a zephyr and slowly grows to a hurricane, all in the time it takes for my knees to hit the ground.

"You have been warned three times. You are not welcome here! I DELIVER YOU TO IREN OF THE MOUNTAIN TO MEET YOUR FATE!" Shush howls. Rian and I clap our hands to our ears and huddle together as the rubble blows around us, careening against the walls, swirling in a way that reminds me so much of the shadow cyclones. Flitt's blinding prisms dim as Emris is caught up in a mighty torrent, and I squint to watch the Sorcerer fight and struggle in vain within Shush's whirlwind. Dust and rock and rubble are kicked up violently as he's carried to the edge of the keep and across the border into Kythshire with Shush following behind, blowing great gusts ahead of him to guide the swirling force.

"Take cover!" Ember's command from outside is barely audible over the rush of the wind, and as Flitt's light fades, Rian and I clamber through the ruins together to the edge of the keep. Just outside, fairies and their golems scatter away from the windswept Sorcerer. He's merely a blur within the cyclone among the swirling mass of rubble, but occasionally there is a burst of lightning, fire, or ice that escapes the wind. Rian and I cling to each other at the precarious edge of the rubble, watching.

"He's trying everything to get out," Rian calls over the deafening wind, "but he doesn't realize it's only fueling the wind. Impressive, isn't it? I had no idea Shush had it in him."

"No wonder he's always whispering," I shout over the gale. Rian and I hold tight to steady each other as Iren rumbles to its knees before us. One hand remains cupped to its broad chest, and I note a thin stream of crimson trailing down its arm. With its free hand, Iren reaches out to Shush's cyclone and plucks the Sorcerer from it. As soon as he does so, the torrent of wind dies to a squall, then a rustle, and then a soft breeze. After a brief a nod of satisfaction, Shush darts back to us to join Flitt, who has perched on a broken bit of wall beside me. She grins at him a little shyly.

"That was brilliant," she whispers to him. Beside her, with little warning, Twig emerges slowly.

"Sorry I'm late," he says as he peers around the ruins warily. "Palace business. Did I miss anything?"

"Only everything," Flitt giggles.

"Shhh," Shush points and everyone's attention is drawn back to Iren, who holds the limp Sorcerer in his palm, level with its enormous, perfect stone lips.

"Amazing," Rian breathes as Iren parts its lips and, as though drawing a breath, takes in a stream of twisting blackened energy from the broken sorcerer. The stream goes on for a long while and we watch in silence, mesmerized by the way the energy changes from black, to red, to orange, to gold.

"It's stripping him," Rian whispers with a mix of awe and horror.

"Recovering that which was stolen," Ember corrects him as she drifts up the mountainside to join us.

"Will Iren keep it?" Rian asks, flexing his own fingers as if to quell the pent-up energy that still crackles from them. Ember shakes her head.

"Of course not. It doesn't belong here. It’s Sunteri magic," Ember scoffs. "Isn't that obvious?" She rolls her eyes and Rian shrugs apologetically. Above us the stream of magic thins. Lifeless in Iren's hand, the Sorcerer's body seems slighter now. Faded, like a swatch of threadbare fabric. 

"You'll be next, Mage," Ember says to Rian with a satisfied grin. 

"What?" I gasp as my heart begins to race at the implied threat. The Sorcerer's frail form grows even more sunken and faded, and with the pounding of my heart comes the ache in my chest again. I reach up instinctively to rub it, my gloved hand clunking softly against the stony scales of my breastplate.

"I know," Rian says softly as he watches the final stream of energy leave the Sorcerer's body. "I'm ready." The air around Emris' body shifts slightly, his skin and robes fade to gray, and then he crumbles to tiny pebbles which Iren tips out of its hand like grains of sand.

"Rian," I hug his arm to me tightly as I watch the pebbles bounce gently down the jagged mountain slope. "No..."

"It won't be like that for me," Rian says. "Don't worry."

"Flitt," Iren rumbles, and as Flitt rises up to the eye, Iren blows a stream of golden energy into one remaining pebble. "When we are through here, take this stone," it holds out its hand, "to my son.”

"All right, I will!" Flitt dives to retrieve it, tucks the glowing pebble into a belt pouch, and then darts back to us again.

"Azaeli, Rian," Iren shifts toward us, lowering the hand that has been clutched to its chest. As Rian and I inch forward together, its fingers uncurl to reveal Viala, her body broken and bruised, lying in a pool of blood which spills down its wrist. "I know of your history," Iren says, mostly addressing Rian, "and so I leave her fate to you." As its words softly rustle her tangled black hair, Viala takes a shallow, rattling breath.

“Choose to end her suffering, or choose a new life for her with us. One in which she will have no memories of her time before this moment." The eye moves from Rian to me. "If you choose death for her, then you yourself must deal the killing blow." Rian and I exchange looks. Neither of the possibilities seems ideal. The fairies in Ember’s command line the base of the mountain, milling in silence as they watch our exchange. “Choose quickly, for the battle is not yet won. One Sorcerer remains, locked in battle with the king’s men, just through the keep.”

“You’re sure she’ll have no memory of her past?” Rian asks, staring at Viala’s broken form as she takes another weak gasp for breath. “No way at all to cause this sort of mess again? What will you do with her?”

“You ask your questions without ceremony, Rian Eldinae.” Iren smiles. “I am certain. She will begin a new life, a life of service to the Northern Border.” Rian turns to me, his eyes searching mine.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, pulling me close. “She tried to kill you. She’s been horrible.”

“But it wasn’t all her, Rian. She was being manipulated and controlled. They had her family...” I stare at her pale face, now free of the Mark. She looks so innocent.

“Still,” Rian sighs. “We’re taught to be guardians of the magic the fae allow us, and she squandered that trust. She shared secrets she vowed to keep. Ancient secrets. She held the prince with Sorcery. Her actions could have destroyed Cerion from the inside out. Kythshire, too.”

I don’t say anything. I know he’s right. If she was in the hands of the Academy, she’d be stripped, imprisoned or banished, and left to die. In their eyes, what she did would be deemed unforgivable.

“Yet,” Rian shakes his head. “To kill someone knowing there’s a chance they can be spared? To offer a second chance?”

“I know,” I nod and reach up to brush a bit of splintered wood from his hair. “I trust Iren. But,” I glance behind me. “Flitt?” She drifts up into the small space between us and crosses her arms.

“You’re going to spare her, aren’t you?” She purses her lips, and I can’t tell by her tone whether she’s for or against it.

“I am aware that she has wronged you, Flitt. But this choice is left to the humans. The fae cannot intervene.” Iren says quietly.

“All right.” Flitt glances at me with a hint of disappointment and then turns to Rian. To my shock, she floats up to his shoulder and perches herself there. Rian turns his head in her direction, wide-eyed. It’s a simple act that might not mean a thing to anyone else here, but to us it means a great deal. With that one, simple movement, she has shown she supports his choice, no matter what he decides.

“We leave her to you, then, if you’re sure she’ll never be a threat again.” Rian reaches up and rakes his fingers through his hair, his shaking hands still crackling and bursting with excess magic. Iren covers her over with its other hand and closes its great eye as it sits back onto its heels. “And this,” Rian says, holding up his hands as he turns to Ember and Shush. “This I want to return to the Wellspring. Please.” There’s a hint of desperation in his tone that makes me press myself nearer to him and hold him closer.

“Don’t you want to go out there and use it?” Ember chides. “Iren said the battle isn’t over yet. Think of how impressed your people would be with you.” She smirks. All around us, the fae seem to lean in closer, watching Rian with a mix of fear and awe in anticipation of his reply.

“No, I don’t,” he answers firmly. “It isn’t mine. It belongs here, with you.” He holds his hands out past me, reaching toward Shush. “Please.”

“So honorable. These two have to be the ones,” Shush whispers from behind me, and some of the fairies whip their attention to him, issuing a collective “shush!”

“As you wish,” Iren booms. Gently, it tucks Viala onto a ledge nearby. “Give it to me, and I shall return it to the Wellspring.” Its stony hand lowers to our level, and Rian kisses me softly and offers me reassurances before climbing up into it. Flitt leaves his shoulder to settle onto mine as Shush and Ember join him. When I start to follow, Iren shakes its head and raises his hand away carefully. “Rest now, Azaeli, and take comfort. It will not be long, and he will not be harmed.”

“Don’t worry. Wait for me, and we’ll go together to join the others,” Rian offers me a half-assured smile before he disappears behind Iren’s stony fingers.

Though Iren insisted the process would be short, it seems like ages to me. Flitt, Twig and I try to watch, but from our angle I can’t see anything at all except for the occasional flash of light behind Iren’s bent fingers. A couple of times I feel myself start drifting off, and I’m reminded it’s been nearly a full day since I’ve had any sleep. That’s a dangerous train of thought, though, with a battle still raging on and our guild in need of us. Restlessly, I push myself to my feet and pick my way back inside to the ruins of the keep.