Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (34 page)

“This is one I’ve been thinking about for a while.” His expression goes serious as he lays his fist, palm up, between us. I start to sit up but he stops me. “Don’t wake Flitt,” he whispers. “This is between us.” He takes my hand with his free one and gazes into my eyes as his thumb caresses my palm softly. He’s delaying, I can tell. Whatever he’s about to ask me, he’s nervous.

“What is it?” I ask gently. “You know I’d tell you anything, Rian. Don’t be nervous.”

“I know,” he looks down at his closed hand. “It’s just…I’ve known you all my life, Azi. You’ve always been by my side. And the more we face together, the more I realize how much you mean to me. When you fell in the tavern, I thought I lost you. I was terrified. I can’t imagine my life—”

Screams outside my window interrupt him mid-sentence. Together we leap from the bed to throw open the shutters and are struck by the acrid smell of smoke. In the distance toward the city gates, flames lick toward the sky.

“That’s Midmarket,” he says.

“Oh, Rian, the low houses!” I peer out into the smoke and flames toward the rooftops where the poorer folks make their home in the city.

“Get dressed,” he says to me. “We’ll go help.”

Hastily, I tuck my night dress into a pair of trousers and dash outside with Rian toward the flames. Closer to them, it’s chaos. Children and women are huddled along the street away from the fire coughing and crying, while men hoist buckets from the nearby well. Two Mages stand close to the flames, shouting spells that spray water from their palms to calm the raging fires. I run to the bucket line to help while Rian separates to join the other Mages.

I pass bucket after bucket, my fingers stinging from the bitter cold and icy water that splashes over me, and I fall into the soothing rhythm of it. The sun is just peeking up over the sea wall. It casts long shadows across the cobbles. Shadows that creep toward me, whispering words that make no sense. They slip over my arms, caressing me, luring me. I try to ignore them and focus on the buckets. The fire is nearly out. Thick pillars of smoke billow into the pink morning sky. All around us I hear the cries of those who’ve lost everything.

“
You shouldn’t have hidden from me,
” Jacek’s voice echoes in my head and the bucket slips from my numb fingers and crashes to the ground, drenching me and the man beside me.

“All right, lass,” he says gruffly. “Keep going, it’s almost out.”

I get the next bucket and the next as I survey the damage left in the fire’s wake. The entire market and a half dozen low houses beyond are reduced to charcoal and soot. The Mages manage to snuff out the remaining flames, and by the time the buckets stop coming my entire body is trembling. This is my fault, all of it. Somehow, Jacek caused this because of me. I find Rian working with a group of Mages to try to restore what they can.

“It’s a complete loss,” he says to me. “Smashed or broken we can easily restore, but burned?” he shakes his head. “There’s nothing we can do. Thankfully no one was hurt.” I stretch my arms around him and hold him and try not to lose my composure in the middle of the street. “They can rebuild. Don’t worry. The king has reserves for matters like this, and the Mages can easily…” he trails off as I look up at him. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

I nod, and his eyes go wide as he takes my hand and starts to run. We weave past displaced families and splash through sooty puddles toward home, to the safety of the guild hall. He pushes me through the door first and as soon as he does I feel the shift of the wards that Uncle placed here last night. Wards to hide me, to protect me. To keep Jacek out.

It makes sense that Rian would want me to be here and safe, but Jacek’s words echo in my mind. If hiding from him means another attack on innocents, I’d rather be out in the open. I turn to Rian to tell him so, but a light at the top of the stairs distracts me. It glitters and splashes colors all along the wall as Flitt emerges looking much like herself again.

“What happened? I woke up and you were gone,” she wrinkles her nose at us. “You smell like smoke, ugh. How’d you get all dirty? And what are you wearing, Azi?”

“There was a fire,” Rian answers her absently before turning to me. “He was trying to draw you out. He knows you’re a hero, he knows you’d rush to help.”

“What am I going to do?” I ask him. “If I stay hidden, I risk more of that.” I point toward the outside. “But if I’m out in the open, he’ll be able to see anything I’ve seen.”

“Not so,” Flitt says matter-of-factly. “He just did that to scare you last night. I’ve been thinking it over. The Dreamwalker may seem powerful, but he has limits. For example, he can’t reach across planes to gather memories. You know yourself that he has to look into your eyes. He can only make suggestions. Last night he didn’t see anything. He just suggested to you that he was looking in order to trick you into being scared. That made it easier for him to lure you away. Just like when he made you think you’d drunk some poisoned cider. It was only a thought he put into your head to make you vulnerable. There wasn’t anything in the cup, really. Well, aside from cider, obviously.”

While she chatters on, she plays idly with a silver band. Its blue stones flash and glint in her light as she twirls it over her wrist like an acrobat’s hoop. When she realizes it has caught my eye, she shoves it behind her back and slowly floats backward toward Rian, who plucks it away with annoyance.

“You shouldn’t play with that,” he says under his breath.

“Well,
you
shouldn’t have left it lying around in the bed where she could find it,” she whispers back, blows a raspberry, and shoots through the window, probably on her way to the kitchen to see what Mouli is cooking up.

Before Rian can bring up the ring and his unfinished question, I give him a quick kiss and excuse myself to go upstairs and dress. My heart is racing, and I’m not sure whether it’s from the firefight or Jacek or what came before that. I imagine the ring around Flitt’s wrist. I wish I had gotten a better look at it. Still, if he had asked me…

I shake my head and don my armor, taking care to fasten my sword tightly in its harness. The action reminds me of the girl we left in Kythshire, Saesa. Jacek’s sister. The blood tie who could possibly set him free. What if he saw her in my memories? What if he knows she’s hiding there? Could he find her? Could he use me to get to her?

Thoughts of him make my blood boil. He’s attacked my city now, he’s set fire to innocent people’s homes. I know that Tib has been given the title of Dreamstalker, but here in the quiet of my room, all alone, I vow to myself that my sword will be the last to drive through him, and my eyes will be the last he looks into as his life drains away.

Rian raps on the hatch between our rooms and I nearly jump out of my skin. I slide open the little door and peer into the mess of his room.

“Didn’t Mouli straighten up for you?” I ask him, eyeing the piles of clothes on the floor and the disheveled bedcovers. He grins and shrugs.

“It doesn’t feel like home if it’s not a mess,” he laughs. “Actually, I was looking for something.”

“Did you find it?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He holds up an elegant looking dagger that I’m sure is of elvish make. He swishes it from side to side rather amateurishly. “Just in case.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you even know how to use that?”

“What’s there to know? Stab, stab.” He thrusts it forward with a flourish and accidentally drops it.

“Rian…” I shake my head and laugh as he ducks down to retrieve it.

“Relax, Azi,” he chuckles. “It’s for Tib. I noticed he had a fondness for sharp things, and this one has a kick to it. Ready?”

“Where did you get it?” I ask him later in the corridor as we walk together to the hall.

“Da gave it to me a long time ago, back before Master Gaethon chose me for the Academy. I think he was hoping I’d be a scout like him one day. I never could get the hang of the bow, though. And you know I’m not so fond of the sight of blood.”

“No, you’re much more comfortable exploding things,” I say as we enter the hall together. Uncle is waiting for us at the table, where Mouli has laid a spread of breakfast fit for a king. Flitt is there too, half-buried in a bowl of sweetnuts.

“Hi Azi!” she says brightly. She waves to me and glances at my finger and turns to Rian with a pout. He shakes his head at her and presses a finger to his lips. “Typical,” she mumbles.

“
What
?” I push to both of them.

“
Nothing
!” they reply in unison.

“I feel bad letting it go to waste,” I say of the breakfast after a moment watching the two of them exchange a heated, silent conversation, “but I don’t want to wait. Can we just go?” I look from Rian to Uncle, who nods.

“After the events of this morning, I heartily agree,” he says. “But first,” he turns to me, “Take this, Azaeli. It was carved of the stone of Gelvindan, of the peaks of Hesta, the mountains of Hywilkin. It’s said to have been dipped in the golden waters of the North and imbued with warding powers.”

He lowers the talisman into my waiting hand and I immediately feel the shift of protection around me. I look it over curiously. Flitt comes to perch on my wrist and look it over, too. The stone is deep green marbled with streaks of cream white and flecks of coral. It’s carved into the shape of an open mouth, with a tongue that curls out over sharpened teeth.

“Yep,” she says, “Definitely powerful.” She wrinkles her nose and darts back to her bowl of nuts.

“Thank you,” I say to Uncle, who gives a cordial nod before turning to Rian.

“And now,” Uncle says, “the Mentor will enlighten the Master.” There’s a glint of amused interest in his eye as he takes Rian’s offered elbow. I link my arm through Rian’s free one.

“Azi’s better at it, actually,” Rian says. “Do you want to?”

“Is that so?” Uncle asks, turning to me with a look of utter surprise.

“I don’t think I should this time,” I say to Rian. “You have better focus.” To be honest, I’m nervous about drawing too much attention to myself in the Half-Realm. If Jacek found us because of me, I don’t think I could live with myself.

“Alright. We’re going fast, then,” Rian says. “Brace yourselves.” He speaks the words that pull us away into the Half-Realm and then I feel the ground fall away beneath my feet.

“Meet you there,” Flitt calls after us as we plummet, and I cling to Rian’s arm with both hands. It’s not long at all, only a breath or two, before we land with a thud in the darkness.
 

Azi

At first I’m half-panicked thinking we took a wrong turn or got pulled into Jacek’s nightmare, but then Rian pushes aside a heavy curtain and the early morning sun splashes over Bryse, Cort, Elliot, and Tib, who groan in protest.

“Still sleeping. Can you believe that?” Rian says, ducking away from a pillow thrown by Bryse.

“Not at all surprised,” Uncle says in his usual droll tone. He flicks his finger and the pillow plunges back to Bryse and smacks him right in the face.

“Hey,” he grumbles and jumps up to exact his revenge, but when he sees Uncle he stands down. “Sorry, Gaethon. Didn’t expect it was you.” His shoulders slump slightly and he scratches his head and yawns.

“Good,” says Tib with a strange level of authority to his voice as he sits up in bed. “You’re all here. It’s time to go. We’ll need everyone’s help to reach Valenor.” He scowls and glares into an unoccupied corner of the room. “Cut it out,” he says under his breath, “I’m through talking for you.”

“First things first,” Uncle says with a suspicious eye on Tib. “Azaeli, go and fetch the others so we can inform them of His Majesty’s wishes.”

I do as Uncle asks, and return with Mum and Mya to find that my father has joined them along with Donal and Dacva. In the previously unoccupied corner, Uncle is standing against the wall. His eyes are half-closed and glowing with a familiar golden light.

“Uncle Gaethon?” I whisper and start to go to him, but Rian stops me.

“He’s getting Mevyn to trust him,” he explains. “He’s showing him.”

“Showing him what?” I ask.

“Everything,” Rian says. He closes the doors and windows and sets the wards. Once everything is secure, Rian and I recount the meeting with the king and the events that happened afterward while Uncle keeps on in his quiet exchange with Mevyn.

“I’m glad His Majesty said as much,” Mya looks at each of us in turn as she speaks. “It seems the King has set his priorities. Our first course will be to put a stop to this Dreamwalker. Once he’s out of the way, we’ll be able to determine for sure how much the prince has acted of his own accord. Agreed?

“Agreed,” says everyone except for Tib, who seems to be having an internal struggle.

“Do what you want,” he heads for the door. “I’m going to find my sister.” His fists are clenched at his sides, and he glances at Mevyn and Uncle’s corner. His feet shuffle a little oddly and then he winces and steps out.

“He’s a spitfire, that one,” says Bryse after the door closes with a soft click. “Touched in the head, I still say.”

“It’s not his fault. I’ll go after him,” I say. “I know Mevyn needs him.”

The boy moves quickly, I’ll give him that. He’s already out of the inn and halfway down the main village street before I catch up with him. It makes me nervous being outside of the warded tavern. I pray that Jacek doesn’t find me.

When I call after him, Tib quickens his pace until we both break into a full-out run. He’s faster than I am in my armor, and he gains twice as much ground. Just when I start to worry I might lose him, he starts to slow. His feet drag heavily as we reach the outskirts of the village. At first I think perhaps he’s tiring, but then he stops and grasps one leg as though trying to pry his foot out of the mud. When he’s unable to, he folds himself in two and drops to his knees in the middle of the street.

I rush to him. His hands are pressing the sides of his head painfully, and his breath comes out in short puffs of white in the chilled morning air.

“Tib!” I cry as I kneel beside him. “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“He won’t let me,” he whispers as he slumps against me. “It’s just like the roots. He won’t let me go. I should have told the truth,” he says, holding out a scrap of silk with an elvish mark on it. “In Ceras’lain. They would have helped me. They could have kept me safe.” His skinny little body wracks with sobs as he presses his face into the crook of my arm. I try to take the scrap to get a better look at it, but he tucks it away protectively.

“Mevyn?” I ask him. “Is that who? He won’t let you go?”

“He won’t let me find her,” he sobs. “She’s all I have. All I have left.”

“Shh. Listen,” I stroke his hair away from his face. It’s stringy and greasy and caked with blood from yesterday, but that doesn’t matter to me. This close, I see him for who he really is. A boy, alone, small, and confused.

A boy who’s been through things that would have broken grown men, and despite everything he’s faced, his concern is not for himself, but for the sister he lost twice. I want to tell him everything will turn out for the best, that he’ll be safe and so will she. I can’t be sure, though, and I won’t make him promises I can’t keep.

“Tib,” I say, clearing the lump in my throat, “I realize how important she is to you. We’re concerned for her, too.”

I dry his tears and look into his eyes. They’re brown, rich brown, and as welcoming as warm steeped tea on a snowy day. Without trying, I’m drawn into them. It’s almost as if he knows what I can do and he’s inviting me. I fall quickly into fields of red blossoms, where a young Viala sits with a book on her knee. He shows me her innocent days before she became a Sorceress. Shows me how kind she was, how tender to her brother and younger sister.

Despite the grueling work and the cruelty of those who drove them, they had each other. I watch her promise him in the darkness that she’ll come back for him one day. I see her waving hopefully from the window of a carriage driven by…Emris. I pull myself away. The face of the Sorcerer comes as a shock to me.

“I swear,” I say to him after taking a moment to catch my breath, “I’ll help you find her. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re together. I promise. Okay?”

He nods, “okay.”

“Let’s go back into the inn,” I say. “I’ll talk to the others. We’ll make a plan.”

“He swore he’d never meddle with my mind again,” Tib rubs his eyes as I help him to his feet. “And then he wouldn’t let me leave. He lied to me. I hate him.”

“From what I understand,” I rub his back reassuringly as we walk back to the inn, “you’re justified in that.” With one vow made to Tib, I make another to myself in secret. I will find a way to make certain the two are separated. When this is over, Tib will be allowed to choose his own path.

We’re met with a surprising scene as we return to the gathering. Mevyn is floating in the center of a circle of the Elite with Flitt perched on Rian’s shoulder, scowling at the golden fairy. When she sees me, she darts across the room and tucks herself into my collar.

“Ah, there,” Mevyn says. “As I was saying, he can’t have gone far.”

I feel Tib’s shoulders tense beneath my hand at the fairy’s words, and I squeeze them reassuringly.

“Is there any way that some of us,” I turn to Elliot pointedly, “could search for Ki while the rest of us go with Mevyn to Valenor?”

“Tib must remain with me,” Mevyn flies to Tib, who bats him away.

“Yes, that’s been established,” I try not to scowl. I understand now why Tib always seems so angry.

“
And you think I’m annoying
,” Flitt chuckles in my head.

“If nothing else,” Uncle says, “it is obvious that the prince has a dangerous interest in that woman. Perhaps it would be wise after all to seek her out and keep her safe.”

It’s hard to miss the distaste in his tone. Before she became Ki, Viala was the Academy’s prize student. She betrayed the Academy by plotting right under Uncle’s nose. Since then his mistrust of the Sunteri has grown tenfold. He seems to have pity for Tib, though. Like the rest of us, he has no respect for those who would enslave others. Still, Mevyn’s plight is partnered with our own. Jacek is a direct threat to Cerion now, and without Mevyn’s direction, we don’t know how to fight him.

“I’ll search for her,” Elliot says. “Alone would be best. I can cover more ground that way.” He goes to Tib. “Do you have something of hers I could use? For reference?”

I can see the reluctance in his eyes as he pulls out the necklace with the blue stone. He looks at it for a moment and then hands it over to Elliot. In the half-elf’s hands, it pulses softly. Elliot’s eyes go dim and bright again, and I know that Iren is talking to him.

“Don’t worry,” Elliot says to Tib as he presses the cord to his nose. “I’ll find her.” He gives the amulet back to the boy and rushes out without another word.

“That’s settled, then. Who of the rest of you is coming along?” Mevyn asks. “We really must be going.”

“Dunno,” Bryse says with a scowl, turning his back on Mevyn to face Mya. “What does our
leader
say?”

“We don’t know what we’ll be facing,” Mya says quietly. “As long as we’re in agreement, I think it would be best if we all stayed together.”

“I can tell you to prepare yourselves for battle. It will not be easy to get through into Valenor’s lair,” Mevyn says. “It is likely to be guarded by fiends the likes of which you have never before encountered.”

“I’m sold,” Bryse says, running a thick finger along his blade. “How do we get there?”

“As am I,” Cort grins. “Dark lairs and fiendish guards? Sounds like treasure to me.”

“Wait,” I say. “Mevyn, if Valenor is an old friend as you’ve said, then why must we fight our way to him? Wouldn’t he just let you in if he knew you were coming to call?”

“If only it were so simple, my dear.” Mevyn floats toward me, pausing to hover before my eyes. “They are not guarding to keep us out. Oh, no. They are there to keep him in. You see,” he turns to the others. “Valenor is a prisoner, cast out by Jacek. The boy stole his titles and his mantle and shut him away in a place so dark that none would dare venture to seek him. That is why I need you, Tib. That is why I need all of you.”

“It seems we’re all in agreement, Mevyn,” says Uncle. “Where then, is this lair?”

“Deep in the mountains of the ancient lands that my kind calls Sevtis Vailsh,” Mevyn replies.

“That’s Long Arm,” Bryse says. “That’s a two week ride from here in summer months. Uphill. Mostly mountains and cliffs and in Midwinter it’s all ice. Pass is closed, little man. Probably have to take a ship.” Beside me, Rian rifles through his pack and pulls out his map case. He tugs a parchment free from the roll and flattens it out on the bed. Mya and my parents peer over his shoulder as he traces his finger along the route.

“He’s right,” he says. “No way we could make it there this deep into the season.” I follow his finger on the map. Long Arm Pass is a thin stretch of land that acts as a bridge between Haigh and Hywilkin, far to the north. It connects two unlikely allies, the Northern Caste, a hearty culture of men and women who make their homes in cold and unforgiving lands, and the Stone Giants, who are exactly as one might imagine. Bryse would be our expert here, as he is half of each.

“Of course not,” Mevyn says. “Not with traditional means of travel. But you,” he grins at me and scoops a lock of my bangs into his hand, “you, my beautiful dear, have other means of getting there. Do you not?”

I look across at Rian, whose jaw drops open slightly as his eyes widen.

“Well, Rian and I can… and we’ve brought others before, but…” I look around at the group as I brush the lock aside. There are fourteen of us all together. Rian and I taking Uncle through the Half-Realm was barely any trouble at all, but attempting so many others… “It’s too risky. We’ve never taken more than one or two with us.”

“I wasn’t even sure bringing Gaethon would work, to be honest,” Rian says.

“Wait a minute, now,” Flitt pipes up. She’s still safely hidden away from the others, who are oblivious to her rant. “That’s supposed to be a secret, you two! What do you mean, spouting it in front of everyone? The Half-Realm is one step closer to our realm. Would you really just let him in?” She points at Bryse with a scowl. “And him?” She points at my father.

While she’s going on, the others are discussing what I’ve said. It’s too difficult to keep track of everyone talking at once. I sink onto a nearby bed and press my palms to my head to try and focus.

“Enough,” Mevyn says. “Enough. Fine. If it means less chattering, then I can bring you each there, but it must be one at a time. And when I am through, I shall need to replenish.” He looks pointedly at Uncle, who slowly closes his eyes.

“Very well,” he says. “Who shall go first?”

“Me,” says Bryse. “I’ll stand guard. Haven’t been home in a while.”

Once everyone has agreed, the journey to Long Arm Pass is not difficult at all. I take Tib and Flitt with me and focus on Bryse, and I have no trouble falling through the frigid air into the icy peaks of the place that Mevyn called Sevtis Vailsh. Rian brings Mya and Mum with him, and Mevyn takes a few more trips to bring the rest. By the time he’s through and everyone is huddled against the wind in an inlet of stone, Mevyn looks ragged and pale. He goes to my uncle, who tucks him into the folds of his robes.

Snow billows around us so thickly that we can barely see our hands in front of our faces. My cheeks are immediately frozen by the bitter wind that whips through the pass. The mountainside is slick and treacherous: a sheer drop on one side of us and nothing but ice-coated wall to cling to on the other.

“This is madness,” Da says through chattering teeth. “Are you certain we need this Valenor’s help? Perhaps there’s another way,” he goes on, but the wind roars through and carries his voice away.