by JA Andrews
“That’s deep.” She pulled her hand back. Her brow wrinkled as she focused on his shoulder, and traced lines in the air with her fingers. Thin trails of pinkish light hung in the air behind them, forming a rune.
Alaric scrambled to his feet and stepped closer. A strange rune that reminded Will of sunlight faded and she drew another one. The fingers on both hands danced through the air, leaving trail after trail of light.
A warmth started deep in his shoulder, growing hotter until Will had to try not to squirm away from it. The heat radiated down his arm as though his bone was smoldering. It burned over to his neck and he clenched his jaw. The heat moved toward the surface of his shoulder, leaving a tingling warmth behind.
With a final stretching sensation across his skin, the heat faded. Sini dropped her hands and Will pushed the bandage down off his shoulder and saw nothing but a ragged red pucker of skin. He lifted his arm and felt only stiffness and a dull ache.
Killien looked at her proudly. “You’re getting better all the time.”
Will raised his eyes to Sini, stunned. “How did you do that?”
Alaric stood behind the girl, staring at Will’s shoulder. “There’s nothing in here to pull energy from besides us. You couldn’t possibly have done all that from yourself.”
Sini looked up at him uncertainly. “I used the sunlight.”
The room was completely shadowed.
“What sunlight?” Alaric asked.
“From out the window.” She pointed outside hesitantly. “Where else would I get so much warmth?”
For a long moment, the two Keepers just stared at her. Alaric opened his mouth then closed it several times before settling on, “How did you make the runes?”
“Oh.” She brushed her hair back out of her face with a nervous motion. “That energy does come from me. But it’s easy.” She moved her finger through the air in a long arc and left a thin pink trail behind that faded slowly away. She looked at the two Keepers curiously. “You can’t make the air glow?”
Alaric blinked and reached toward the waning line.
“It looks like what the stone did,” Will said, “when it sucked the life out of Ohan—and when it put that energy back into Killien.”
Alaric’s eyes widened. “The air glows! The energy moves through the air…and it glows. How did I not see that?” He turned toward Sini, his face so intense that she took a step back. “How does the air glow?”
“Alaric,” Will said mildly, “you’re scaring her. And the rest of us.”
Alaric pressed his lips closed and backed up.
“I don’t know how it glows,” Sini said. “That’s the first magic I ever did. Of course it wasn’t a smooth line.” She turned her hands over. The tips of each finger were shiny and smooth with old scars. “It was more of a…cloud.”
“It came out your fingertips?” Will turned his own hands face up, showing the healing burns and the old white scars on his palm.
Alaric held out his as well, a patchwork of old faded scars filled his palms. In a tightly controlled voice he said, “Please come to the Stronghold. Even if you don’t stay. Please come and show us what you can do. I promise you we will do everything we can to help you learn more.”
“If you stay on the Sweep,” Killien said, sounding desperate, “you can have your freedom. You can keep living with us as a real part of the family.”
For a moment, Sini looked interested. But then she shook her head slowly. “I’d never really be free among the Roven.” She considered Alaric and Will, tapping her fingers on her lips. “Lukas will come for you. I don’t think yet, though. There were things he wanted to learn first, but it’s always been his goal to destroy the Keepers.”
“Do you know where he’s gone?” Will asked.
“Probably Napon. He wants to learn from the blood doctors there.”
Alaric made a disapproving noise.
Sini straightened her shoulders and a determined look settled on her face. “I’ll come with you. Lukas is…I might be able to help you prepare for him. He’s not as terrible as he probably seems to you right now. If I could talk to him, maybe…” She shrugged and her words trailed off.
Her gaze fell to the book in Alaric’s hand. “Do you have any books at the Stronghold?”
“Eighty-two thousand three hundred and twenty. Or there about.”
Killien’s mouth fell open and Sini’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I’ll come,” she said quickly. She turned to Rett and looked up into his face. “I’m going to go back home, to Queensland. Do you want to come with me? Or stay with Killien?”
Rett shook his head. “Come with Sini.”
“We need to wrap this up,” Patlon said. “I hear people in the hall.”
“If you go out the window,” Killien said, “you should be able to get around to the back of the mountain quickly. Don’t linger.”
“Sounds good,” Douglon said, scrambling up to the window and peering out. “Everything’s chaotic enough down on the Sweep that no one should pay much attention to us.”
Evangeline followed him. Sini, paused before giving Killien a quick hug. Then she clambered out the window followed by Rett, Alaric, and Patlon. Sora started toward the window.
“I’m sorry,” Killien said to Sora. “About the night Lilit almost died.”
Sora hesitated. “I understand the desperation you must have felt. And if you hadn’t called for me, you wouldn’t have gotten Will, and Lilit would have died.” She gave him a reluctant shrug. “So I suppose I’m glad you did.”
Killien gave Will a sidelong glance. “What do you think she’d do to me if I pointed out that she’d just claimed to be the reason Lilit was saved.”
Sora fixed him with a dangerous look. “I’d finish the job Lukas started on you.”
Killien let out a short laugh, then grimaced and shifted his back. “If you’re ever near the Morrow again, Sora, you’ll always have a place.”
Sora nodded in acknowledgment and went to the window. Ilsa gave the Torch a hesitant smile and followed her.
Hal gave Will a crushing pat on the back. “The fact that you introduced me to dwarves has tipped the scales. I’ve decided I’m glad to have met you.”
“And I you.”
“I have a feeling you might see Lukas before I do,” Killien said to Will. “If you do, tell him…”
Will waited, but Killien shook his head.
“Maybe there’s nothing to tell him.” Killien held out his hand to Will, and he took it, clasping Killien around the wrist. “Thank the black queen you were here. I feel as though I should offer you some sort of reward for saving me, both from the knife and from the ring. But you might ask for more slaves, and you’ve already taken enough of those.”
“Is that bag over there full of avak?” Will pointed to a shelf. “Because you know we don’t have those in Queensland.”
Killien let out a short laugh and winced. “You drive a hard bargain, but I suppose two dozen fruit will help you feed the many people leaving with you.”
Will grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
“Next time you’re sneaking across the Sweep,” Killien said, "you should stop by the Morrow.”
“I’m done with the Sweep,” Will said. “It’s your turn. Come to the Stronghold. We have a lot of books.”
Killien opened his mouth to refuse, but Douglon interrupted from the window. “Hurry up, Keeper. Or we’re leaving you behind.”
Killien extended his hand, and Will grasped his wrist.
“Good luck, Will.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Will climbed through the window and into the warm sunlight on a slope scattered with trees. The last goblins from the battle below drained back into their warrens. Ahead of him, the others scrambled among rocks and bushes. It took endless, exposed clambering across the steep slope before they’d moved around the mountain enough that the Roven camp was out of sight. But the Roven were busy dispatching any wounded goblins and begi
nning a victory celebration. On the north side of the mountain, trees grew more densely, hiding the Sweep, and they hurried downhill through them. But climbing along the side of the mountain took much longer than walking through tunnels, and the sun hung low in the sky before they reached the place they’d come out of the goblin warren.
Any rangers that had been patrolling must have gone back to the camp during the fight, because the swath of grass between them and the mountain range sat perfectly empty. Douglon led, angling for the entrance to the dwarven caves. Will scanned the grass for any sign of Rass and the sky for any sign of Talen.
They were almost across the grass before Talen’s little form winged out of the sky to land on Will’s arm. And when they reached the last stand of thick grass before the ground rose into the mountains, Rass’s face popped up out of it in time to hear Sora explain to Ilsa, Sini, and Rett that the way back to Queensland involved several days in dwarven tunnels.
Rass crossed her arms. “No more tunnels.”
Will crouched in front of her. “The rest of us can’t slip through the grass unseen like you can. There are too many Roven for a group as strange as ours to get home safely.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice and added. “If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand.”
She frowned. “I do want to come. It’s just too long away from the grass.”
“It’s easy enough to take some with us.” Douglon studied the grass she stood on. “But that’s too tall.”
He climbed uphill to a little patch of short mountain grass. Taking a small shovel, he began to dig. In a few minutes he’d dug up a square of earth and grass an arm’s length on each side. He rolled it up and tied it to his pack. “That should stay alive long enough to get us through the tunnels.”
Rass reached her hand up and ran her fingers along the bundle, knocking loose a shower of tiny bits of dirt. “You’re very smart, Douglon.”
Douglon winked at her. “There are caves that get sunlight, you know. And water. Deep in Duncave there’s a garden with a floor of grass. Every bit of it got in there rolled on a dwarf’s back.”
Unlike Rass, Sini was unabashedly excited about the idea of dwarven tunnels, and so Rett followed along perfectly happy as well. Ilsa balked only a few moments before Sora assured her she would walk with her.
Will followed behind them with Talen. A thousand questions swirled in his head to ask Ilsa, but he felt oddly nervous at the idea of asking them. Sora and Ilsa talked for a bit before Ilsa turned to him. “What’s our mother like?”
In the dim glimmer moss, her face mirrored his own nervousness.
“She looks exactly like you.” At her surprise, he continued, “I’ve been afraid for years that I might walk past you and never know it. But anyone who’s met our mother would know you instantly.”
She hesitated. “And our father? I heard you tell the Torch…”
Will answered before the emotions had time to make him hesitate. “He was killed the night you were taken.”
Ilsa turned away for a few steps. “I think I knew that. I don’t remember it, exactly, but I’ve never thought my father was alive.” She glanced back at Will again. “Do you remember much of me?”
Will launched into every memory he could remember of her as a baby. Learning to walk, chasing the goat, dragging her ugly doll behind her wherever she went. Then he continued on with stories about their village, their mother, their father.
Ilsa turned out to have a subtle, dry wit and he found a hint of comfortableness growing. Not an ease, exactly, but the awkwardness began to smooth away. She didn’t talk about herself, and he bit back the countless questions he had for her.
Ahead of them, Alaric and Sini walked together, peppering each other with questions, Douglon and Patlon hummed rhythmic, deep dwarfish tunes that echoed along the tunnel, blending back into themselves, creating their complex thrumming song. It took a couple of hours to reach the same dull cavern they’d slept in the night before. With no chimney to allow a fire, they gathered the glimmer moss together and sat around it eating a cold meal.
Douglon spread out the little square of grass, and Rass settled into it with a contented sigh.
“You’re growing soft in your old age, cousin,” Patlon said.
“Are you really cousins?” Rass asked.
“Patlon’s father is my uncle,” Douglon answered, sitting down next to her grass. “But most Dwarves call each other cousin, to remember we’re all related.”
“I like it,” Rass said. “I’ve never had a cousin.”
“You’re too little to be a cousin,” Patlon said. “You’re a nibling.”
Rass giggled. “Sounds like nibble.”
“It’s like a niece,” Douglon explained. “Or a nephew.”
Rass considered the idea. “Well then, thank you Uncle Douglon, for the grass.” She stood and wrapped her little arms around his neck.
Douglon’s eyebrows shot up, but he patted her back awkwardly. “You’re welcome, wee snip.”
With a contented sigh, Rass settled back down on her grass.
Ilsa, Sini, and Rett sat along one side. A thin divide of air and uncertainty formed between the three of them and the others.
Will wanted to feel celebratory, but mostly he felt exhausted. He felt a responsibility to fix the awkwardness in the group, but it was hard enough just to keep his eyes open and eat the dried meat and cheese the dwarves passed out. Will added avak to the meager meal, and everyone who hadn’t tasted it before was suitably impressed with it. The fruit perked his mind up for a few minutes, but even that couldn’t dull his exhaustion.
With all the humans and the small elf worn out, the dwarves carried the evening, telling tale after tale of the pranks they’d played on High Dwarf Horgoth. Douglon, it turned out, was such a close relative to Horgoth that until the High Dwarf had some children, the case could be made that Douglon was next in line for the throne—an honor he was decidedly unhappy about.
The dwarves entertained them, until one by one they fell asleep to long, slow echoes of dwarven songs.
The next day Will walked with Alaric through the darkness. Ahead of them, Sora, Ilsa, and Evangeline chatted animatedly. There was something subtle, but almost masterful, about the way Evangeline drew the other two out. Sora’s laugh was as light and easy as it had been when she’d found him after the fire. And Ilsa joined in the conversation more and more as the hours passed.
Will and Alaric continued to fill in gaps for each other from the past year.
“When we reach the Stronghold,” Alaric said, “I’ll put Ayda’s memory of the elves into the Wellstone. But I think you should be the one to write those down. The elves deserve to have the story told right.”
“I can’t believe they’re all gone. I can’t believe Ayda’s gone.”
They walked in silence.
“Where’s her body?”
“Douglon took it to the Elder Grove in the Greenwood.”
“She really is gone, right?” Will asked. “I mean, it sounds like Evangeline was essentially dead, and you brought her back. Could Ayda…?”
Alaric shook his head. “I’ve asked myself that every day. But she isn’t like Evangeline. Ayda gave up everything. There’s no life left in her at all. Although”—he paused, as though reluctant to continue—“she did put a lot of herself into Evangeline, and into Douglon once when he was dying. And into the Elder Grove itself. I can’t find anything particularly unique about the vitalle, but maybe you could feel something else?”
They reached the Cavern of Sea and Sky at the end of a long day of walking. The air in the cavern glowed blue with the sunlight that trickled its way in. Glints of orange flashed across every surface from their glimmer moss. A reverent silence muted the group, both from those who’d seen it before, and those who hadn’t.
Patlon and Rass made a fire, roasting some yams and onions, scattering countless glints of light across the cave. Ilsa, Sini, and Rett explored the cavern. Will took off Talen
’s hood, and the hawk flew in circles around the cavern.
Alaric drew Douglon and Evangeline aside and explained Will’s talent. “There’s a chance that he can sense what Ayda put in you better than I can.”
Evangeline looked at Will sharply. “Do you think there’s a chance that it’s part of her? That we could somehow get her back?”
“I don’t know,” Will said. “That’s what I’d try to find out.”
He opened up to Evangeline. A rush of gratitude and unworthiness filled him, laced with guilt and something that felt like a desperate, clinging sort of…greed. Alaric squeezed her hand and what had felt like greed settled into what it really was—a tight bundle of joy and desire and friendship and fear, all wrapped so tightly together there was no name for it except love.
Will took a breath and opened up toward Douglon. A gnawing ache flowed into him. Grief. Still new enough to be eroding everything else. Every experience of grief Will had had surged to the surface in his own emotions, resonating with Douglon’s pain. The sheer weight of it threatened to overwhelm him.
There was something similar in them, but there was too much chaos to figure out what.
Sora shifted, watching them with interest. That’s what he needed, Sora’s calm.
“Could you help me?”
She stepped closer. “Anything.”
“I need to feel what you feel.” He reached out and took her hand.
A flood of emotions crashed into him. Admiration, curiosity, excitement, sympathy, and over it all, a warm, glowing blanket of eagerness, pulling him toward her, wrapping around him. His stomach twisted into a knot of nerves and he couldn’t breathe.
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “That’s very distracting.”
A snag of hurt pulled her emotions back and she loosened her hand.
His eyes flew open. “No!” He tightened his grip. “It’s nice—very, very nice. I like it a lot. But what I need from you is that eerie calm you have.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Just for now. There’s so much here, I can’t concentrate.”
