Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More (20 page)

“Stopped how?” Aric rumbled.

“That’s what I want to show you!”

He stood. “Fine, let’s go.”

“She’s sleeping,” Leafswirl warned again.

Nodding, Aric crossed to the stairs that widened for his feet. He gestured to Jenni to come, so she rose and followed him. The stairs didn’t creak under their weight, but Jenni was so close to the outer—real?—tree wall that she heard wind soughing outside. As she took each step, she discreetly tried to gauge the elemental magic of the area. A great deal of earth and air, water was good, too, but fire was scarce. Not surprising. Dryads were terrified of fire, and those in California even more. There were few dryads living with humans in the south, but this was now a protected United States national forest.

The second floor was wider than the first, more magical greenhome than tree. A hallway bisected the space, and Jenni figured that at this moment there was a bedroom on each side. If she and Aric stayed, this level would gain more space or— She glanced up. The stairs continued, looking like pegs until they were needed.

Greenhome was endlessly charming.

Leafswirl moved as quietly as an autumn leaf drifting to the ground. Aric’s feet weren’t quite touching the floor, as if there were a pad of air beneath his soles. He was using his elven air nature. Jenni’s footsteps were quiet but she felt as if she clumped along in clogs.

The arched door on the left opened silently at the touch of Leafswirl’s fingers. Jenni was glad to see that there was a thick rug of green-gray patterned ferns on the floor. They went over to the four-poster bed and stared down at the girl there. She was shorter than Leafswirl, and more slender, though Aric’s mother wasn’t voluptuous by any standard. The young dryad’s hair was streaked red-brown and green, which seemed natural. Her skin was paler than Jenni thought it should be.

Lightleaf’s nose twitched and her mouth puckered before a slight, fearful whimper came from her.

“Shh,” Leafswirl comforted, then said softly, “turn over, my dear.” Magic filled the air at her quiet command.

Stretching and stirring and moaning a little more, Lightleaf rolled over…and a pattern of a dark green spiderweb stretched from under her hair at her temple to angle slightly across her cheek.

Jenni’s breath caught. Holding her eyelids shut on a long blink, she sensed the mark on Lightleaf’s face was pure magic…and a magic of balanced elemental energies…and permanent.

Leafswirl stroked the younger dryad’s head, then waved Jenni and Aric back.

Aric didn’t move. He stared down at Lightleaf with narrowed eyes and considering gaze.

Jenni touched his elbow and his glance shifted toward hers, slid back to the hurt dryad and he gave a little nod. Jenni wanted to clamp her fingers around his elbow and draw him away and that flare of emotion made her feel stupid. He didn’t seem interested in Lightleaf as a woman, more like a problem. Jenni had no reason to feel he’d be attracted to the dryad, but an atavistic possessiveness flickered.

When had Jenni come to believe Aric was
hers?
Stupid. Who knew if their relationship would even survive after the last bubble event, even if they lived.

She strode to the door, through it, and circled down the stairs, inwardly scolding herself. He was his own man, more now than he had ever been when she’d known him before. He had his own goals. He hadn’t ever lied to her, hadn’t been in love with her as much as she had been with him before. She should remember that, and recall that no matter how much they had changed, he was the Eight’s man.

Somehow Leafswirl made it down the stairs before Jenni—had she floated down?—and now sat at a smaller table in the middle of the room, set with another teapot and plates with a variety of cookies.

Jenni needed a cookie.

She sat and held out her cup so Leafswirl could pour.

Then Aric levitated down and Jenni watched the stairs vanish into the wall until they were just a set of ascending knotholes. He came over and took his stool-chair again, selected a chocolate chip cookie and munched, staring past both women.

Jenni, irrationally angry at herself and him and even Leafswirl, took a pecan-shortbread cookie and crunched.

“I like you so much better than that nasty fire djinnfem, Synicess,” Leafswirl said.

Jenni nearly dropped her cookie. She swallowed hard. Aric had jolted and sat stiffly wary. Sipping some tea, Jenni let the liquid sweep crumbs down her throat. “Ah,” she murmured. “I’m part djinn, too.”

“Yes,” Leafswirl said serenely, “but you are mostly human. A native child of our beloved mother Earth.”

“Um-hmm,” Jenni said, taking another cookie, this one without nuts.

“About Lightleaf…” Aric said, obviously not wanting to touch the topic of Synicess and Jenni.

“You should remember her, Aric, she’s only a half century younger than you.”

“Yes, ah, well. What happened?”

Leafswirl filled his cup, though he hadn’t asked for any tea, topped off her own, lifted the thin china mug to her lips, hiding her smiling mouth but not her twinkling eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I believe that new tracery on her cheek protected her.”

“THE SPIDERWEB?” ARIC ASKED
.

His mother sipped, nodded. “Yes, that magical design. And the new addition to the forest. Spiders.”

“Spiders?” Jenni and Aric said simultaneously.

Leafswirl’s eyes got large and her voice hushed. “They are something…different…like the shadleeches, they are not wholly of this world, but are magical, too. But they seem to be
good
while the shadleeches are evil.” She lifted her hands and wiggled her shoulders as if trying to produce sensible words. “But they are native to earth magic, like we Treefolk.” She glanced around her home. “Not like most of the Lightfolk. And I think they, the spiders, don’t last very long. After they weave their webs, they, uh, pop with a teeny sizzle and go away.”

Jenni frowned. “What are they living on, then?”

“I think they are living on the teeny tiny bad things.”

That made no sense to Jenni. She looked to Aric.

“Pollutants,” he said.

“Oh. All to the good, then.”

“Yes, we think so…and Lightleaf isn’t the only one that this has happened to. Others have survived unharmed…except for that mark. Lightleaf is concerned about the tracery of the web on her skin.”

“She shouldn’t be,” Aric said. “It’s very attractive, tell her that.” He studied Jenni and the weighing in his eyes had her pausing with a cookie lifted to her mouth.

Her heart gave a huge thump in her chest. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It would protect you from the shadleeches.”

“Who knows that? It protects
Treefolk
from shadleeches. The spiders or webs or whatever could kill me.”

“Any regular humans stumble in and get hurt?” Aric asked his mother.

Her brows knit. “It’s not the best time for tourist season. Gray and rainy this year with occasional clear days. Very humid. But…I think so. Let me talk to my friends.” She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Within a second her mouth was curving at being linked in mental conversation with other dryads.

Knowing how long they would “talk,” Jenni looked at Aric. “
If
this appears to be something I…could survive…” She swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’ll only be out in the forest being spider meat if you’re with me.”

“Done.” His smile was wide, his eyes sly. “You’ll look hot with a spiderweb tatt.”

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t think so.

They sat for a while, the sole noises the click of their teacups on saucers, the pouring of tea and the stirring of sugar into their cups. They liked tea the same way and the small commonality touched Jenni beyond reason.

Aric snared her gaze and said, “We only had that one night in the bedroom in my tree.”

“Yes.”

A side of his mouth lifted, then he drank his tea. “When I knew you, I wanted to be around your family more than at home in a tree.” He drank, set down his cup, rolled his shoulders. “I’d had my tree for over two centuries, but it was…empty.” He glanced around the room that was as crammed with stuff—female knick-knacks—as any Jenni had ever seen. “I didn’t know how families lived.” His voice became cool and precise. “I didn’t know how
males
lived in a home. Not until I met your brothers and your father and your family.”

“Ah.” So her brothers and their easy camaraderie had snared him, then her father’s gentle and scholarly and loving and honorable nature.

“So nice,” he murmured.

“It was,” Jenni said, thought back to her childhood home, the love of her large and rowdy family.

His nostrils widened as he inhaled. “We can stay in my tree tonight.” He met her eyes with unusual intensity, then glanced away. “I want you there.”

She had to bite her tongue to stop from asking if he’d taken Synicess there. That was before. Jenni had started to resolve so many personal issues over the past week, was shedding the grief and guilt that had lived in her like thorns for so many years. Why did Aric’s time with Synicess bother her so much? Maybe because Jenni was tentatively planning on Aric being in her future.

That didn’t mean she needed to know about his past, though, or he needed to know of her other lovers.

Leafswirl stood, nodding to some unknown comments in her mind. Then she stood and spun, dancing like her name…like a leaf on a spring breeze, smiling and humming. When she stopped she had tree needles in her hair.

“Dear children! We have all talked about the spiders and webs and anyone caught in the forests when the shadleeches came.”

“And?” Aric prompted.

She settled on her stool and it changed into a different chair than Jenni had seen before—cream-colored upholstery with red poppies, fat arms and a soft, cushioned seat. “The shadleeches
do
feast on humans…suck out what little magic they have. But we think that the humans aren’t too harmed and their magic returns over time.”

Jenni and Aric stared at Leafswirl.

“Researchers, campers…over the last two years,” Leafswirl said. She wriggled a little. “As for halflings…a couple of rangers are halflings and they have more trouble…or did. Sungreen’s lover is a ranger—quarter dwarf and quarter elf and half human—who now has a very interesting spiderweb on his butt.” Leafswirl grinned. “They had already decided to test the spider theory.”

Aric snorted.

“Sungreen didn’t tell me where
her
web impression was.”

“So the result was…” Jenni said.

“Both Sungreen and her ranger were safe in the forest after being marked by the web. She
did
think she saw a shadleech caught in a spiderweb, but none reached them.” Leafswirl poured more tea for herself, looked up with a serious expression. “The shadleeches most like attacking near dawn or twilight, when they can’t be seen easily and the magic of the change from night to day, and day to night, occurs. We’d stopped going out then much.” She glanced at Aric. “Even the rare Treeman—a dryad’s son, like Aric. The horrible creatures aren’t good for any of us, not Treefolk or Lightfolk.” She trembled. “Then, just a few days ago, the spiders and spiderwebs came from dusk to dawn and…” She frowned, swooped her free hand. “There was an immediate feeling of—of…niceness. Or maybe a return to how the forest felt before shadleeches.” A smile came and went on her face. “I don’t recall that much.”

Dryads were famous for living in the moment.

“Anyway, we noticed right away that everything felt
better
. And there was more magic around, too. As if the shadleeches hadn’t fed on the trees—or anything else. Then we noticed the webs—particularly at night—and the spiders, and you know the rest.” She sipped just once before she fixed a stare on Aric. “You did it, didn’t you? Something you did saved us.” Her voice was low and lilting.

Inside Jenni winced. During the Yellowstone bubble event she’d been selfish, concentrating on her desires. Aric had
helped
. He’d thought of his mother and sisters and the Treefolk.

He placed his hand over one of his mother’s that rested on the table, looked at Jenni. “We did it.” Shaking his head, he nabbed another cookie—a shortbread bar. “I can’t believe that it’s already paid off.”

“What?” asked Leafswirl.

Aric leaned forward and said, “It’s the bubble event—”

“No!” Leafswirl threw up her hands. “Too complicated for me. I don’t need to know.” She sighed and shared a smile between her son and Jenni. “I’m just glad the shadleeches are gone. There will be a great celebration on the spring equinox.”

Jenni froze. The equinox. Of course the last bubble event would happen then. The changing of the seasons, the rotation of the Earth. This was all about the Earth and magic rising from the core of the planet.

She stared at Aric. He raised his brows in question. Did that mean he’d already figured the timing out, while the penny had just dropped for her? Probably—the Treefolk were aware of the slant of the sun, as Leafswirl had just demonstrated. Why hadn’t Etesian named the date of the event as the spring equinox? Because he would not commit to only
one
day. But the time period he’d quoted bracketed that day. Maybe because when she went to check out the energies near the location she might speed things up or slow them down.

But she would bet everything she had that the last bubble would rise on the spring equinox.

“So you see,” Leafswirl was saying, “you can test it yourself if you want. But you both should be able to get a spiderweb for your protection.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I’ll have to go out sometime and get marked.”

“Yes. You must,” Aric said. “The girls?” he asked.

Leafswirl nodded. “I just spoke with most of them, and those who weren’t connected will hear from the others.” Her smile was back. “We will all be having web traceries on our bodies.” She tilted her head. “If I must, I must, but I think I would like it on my shoulder….” She sighed. “I will have to find a pretty one to mark me, that’s important.”

Aric hid his smile with his teacup.

His mother pursed her lips. “It will be the new fashion.”

“So, Jenni, where do you want your tatt?” he asked.

“Yes, where, Jenni? What do you think would be a good place?” Leafswirl asked.

“I don’t know. Did Sungreen or your friend upstairs say whether the mark had any other effects? Like the shadleech specifically avoided that area in particular?”

Leafswirl looked surprised. “I don’t know, and I don’t think we talked about that. Hmm. Maybe Sungreen’s lover has given that some thought. I think I’ll go ask her.” The dryad waved her hand. “Be at home.”

Jenni got the idea that Leafswirl wanted to consult with her dryad friends more on “fashion” than anything else.

Patting Aric’s head and with an absent smile, Leafswirl stepped through the wall and disappeared.

Aric put his cup down, shoved away his plate. “She’ll be back, later. I’ve had about as much tea as I can stand.” He stretched and his shoulders popped. “Let’s take a walk outside.” He took her backpack and bag and shoved them into greenspace. She figured he’d pluck them out later.

Jenni hadn’t missed having a window to look out until then. “What of the rain?”

“The fog has burned off and the clouds have cleared,” Aric said. He’d know the weather from his magic without seeing it.

The forest was gorgeous, of course. Towering trees with dew on their bark, the ground underfoot thick with fallen needles and leaves from brush and ferns. Jenni inhaled what she could only think of as the scent of primeval
greenness.
All of it seemed to echo Aric, though she knew it was the other way around—everything in Aric resonated of this forest. Even his elven nature whispered of the sighing of the air flowing through the great trees.

Then she began to notice the shadleech depredations. Many of the huge trees showed a shadow where their dryads had been killed. The trees seemed to be grieving. They would survive, but wouldn’t thrive as much as if there were a dryad living within them…and there were occasional sobs of dryads inside the remaining trees that twisted Jenni’s insides hard.

At these, Aric would step up and place his palms on them, tell them of the hope of the spiderwebs and to contact his mother. There would be the silence of someone listening, then a
pop
Jenni felt inwardly and the dryad would be gone…probably to the dryad meeting place.

“It’s wonderful,” Jenni said, in a voice pitched lower than she would use with humans. “But sad.”

Aric took her fingers, squeezed them. “It will get better, and the forest will endure. It has managed to survive through the worst of human logging.” A ripple passed down his back and Jenni realized that he’d been around to see that—fight that?

“Look.” He pointed to where weak sunlight filtered through the trees, catching on tiny threads of a filmy spiderweb disintegrating as they watched. They hurried over just in time to see the whole thing collapse into a few filaments. Aric bent down and poked the small dust-bunny-looking thing and it wrapped around his index finger. He sucked in a sharp breath, lifted his hand as if to fling it away, then set his teeth and drew in noisy breaths for a minute or two as the thing sank into his skin.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt,” Jenni said. “It does, doesn’t it?”

With a short jerk of his head, Aric answered, “Yesss.” There was a hit of whistling air from his throat. “Guess it’s because I’m not all Treeman. Wonder if the dryads asked any
males
about this.”

Jenni cleared her throat. “There was that dryad’s lover.”

Now Aric laughed with true humor and Jenni was glad to see that whatever pain he’d experienced was gone. “A guy with a spider tatt on his butt. I don’t think he was paying much attention to the web.” Aric frowned. “And how did he get something on his butt anyway?”

“I don’t think I want to visualize that,” Jenni said with a small, prim sniff.

Aric slid a gaze to her and grinned. “But I’ll do my best to ensure that you don’t feel a—”

Shadleeches struck!