“Why'd that light go out and this one stay on?” Ran gestured between the darkening lumir crystal overhead and the pendant in his hand. “Aren't they both made of the same stuff?”
Not all lumir is the same. Remember that balance I mentioned?
Ran nodded, and Sarn held his breath. He had a feeling he already knew why the crystal he owned was as unaffected as the white magic keeping him alive.
Well, be glad we have that balance. It guarantees that everything has an opposite.
Bear pushed open a familiar door ending the discussion before Sarn could ask the obvious question. What was he the opposite of?
Ran escaped his hold and rushed to the ratty mattress. He searched it with increasing desperation. “Bear? Where are you?”
I’m right here.
But that didn’t comfort Ran nor stop his search. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes on his sleeve as he shook out their blankets, still calling for his bear.
“No, I want other Bear.”
“He means his stuffed bear,” Sarn staggered toward his son to help search.
Oh, right, I forgot about that. Bear gestured with his paw and light swirled out of a corner Ran hadn’t searched yet.
A stuffed bear, a little worn around the edges, floated on a sparkling tide into Ran’s outstretched arms. It was the twin of the Ghost Bear holding Sarn up. His son clasped his sole toy to his chest and buried his face in its soft nap. He smiled despite the tears standing in his eyes.
Sarn ruffled his son’s hair. “Happy now?”
Ran nodded. “Thank you, Bear.”
You’re welcome, lad. Ghost Bear smiled at the boy.
Sarn surveyed their cave. It lay in deep shadow, but that darkness didn’t appear to hide anything but the usual discarded items—clothes, books, papers and whatever else had fallen onto the floor. Both his lumir crystals had gone dark as well. So, the mist had made it this far.
Sarn turned toward the door. He should check on the Foundlings, but that required too much effort and patience. Besides, he had no food to offer them only a wild tale about how he’d lost a veritable feast. Neither did he want to stay here. This place didn’t feel quite right. He scanned what he could see in his pendant’s light until his eyes fell on the one spot he kept free of clutter—the place where her mark lay. But he couldn’t see its shining curves.
Was she okay? He had to find out. Sarn staggered to her mark, tripping over everything in his path.
Her light was leaving his cave and so was her protection. No! He must fix that. He could not let her seal break. I must see her.
But oh, how heavy his eyes were. Sleep was calling. So too was the water dripping off the stalactite and plinking into the pail. He stopped beside it and drained a cracked cup then offered some to his son.
Ran had to be protected above all else. Sarn puddled on the ground and pressed his cheek against rock infused with the Queen of All Trees’ fading blessing. He wiped the blood crawling down his cheek onto the ground retracing those beautiful circles.
Call her, Bear urged.
“But you said not to—”
That was before. This is now. Call her before you go into shock. Bear’s button eyes beseeched Sarn. But he was already tracing her calling card on the stone with shaking fingers.
Sarn met his son’s teary eyes. “I’m sorry, so sorry—I shouldn't have—” his voice trailed off into silence. He was an awful parent. The scratch of his fingers on stone drawing interlocking circles only confirmed his inadequacy.
Ran wiped tears onto Bear’s fuzzy head then liberated his arm from the stranglehold he had on his stuffed toy. “I’ll help.”
Sarn nodded. His arms were leaden, and his vision was blurring. Magic trickled down his arm illuminating the design he inked with his own will. Everything whited out as something soft caressed his cheek. She was there in the light, gathering him and his son in, carrying them home.
Ran rested his head against Papa’s back. Papa lay on his belly, sleeping on a carpet of soft, silver leaves. Everything gave off silver light including the white root curling protectively around them. It pushed an apple the size of Ran's head at him then rolled a second, larger All-Fruit for Papa.
Smiling, Ran looked up at the Queen Tree as he bit into his favorite snack. Apple’s crispness met honey and cinnamon on his tongue, and it was so yummy. He’d convince Papa to eat one when he woke up.
Both Bears were there too. Ran hugged the stuffed version while listening to Ghost Bear talk to the Queen Tree. He was content to rest here, bathed in light and love. Nothing could harm him or Papa now. She wouldn’t allow it.
Her light filled Papa up, replacing what the shadows had stolen. And they had stolen something important. Ran’s brows knitted together in concentration. He watched her light flow through the thick vein in Papa’s neck. It glowed and so did its branches. Did people have enchanted trees inside them? Now didn’t feel like a good time to ask.
Ran buried his face in Bear’s soft nap and traced the paths the light made. They grew thinner and thinner as they spread across Papa’s warming cheek heading for his closed eyes. People must have a piece of the Queen Tree and her wondrousness inside them and the realization made him grin. It explained why Papa was so loving.
“This is a nicer ad-ven-ture,” Ran whispered into Papa’s ear. If the Queen Tree showed up before things got too bad, he was okay with ad-ven-tures taking scary bends.
Ran pushed the memory of the bad place away in favor of soaking up her presence. Papa tried hard, but he often got distracted. And his ideas about what constituted a ‘nice’ ad-ven-ture needed some fine-tuning. Ran patted Papa’s head. Still, he was the best father in the whole world despite that.
“I can’t protect them both,” other Bear said, shaking his transparent head.
“Why?” Ran asked and his stuffed Bear shook his head just like his much larger, ghostly counterpart. Ran suppressed a giggle. This was a serious talk, so he put his Uncle Miren face on.
“He needs training, not more babysitting. He’s grown too powerful. He senses things he should not, but he’s not equipped to deal with what he unearths.” Ghost Bear gestured to Papa with a transparent paw. “You’ve got to find someone who can teach him because I can’t.”
“Why?” Ran asked again, but neither the Queen Tree nor Ghost Bear replied. They didn’t like that one-word question either. “It’s because Papa’s sick. That’s why you won’t help him.”
Ran traced the luminous lines feeding into Papa’s closed eyes. Behind those fluttering lids, power gathered warm and radiant. His cold fingers soaked up their heat until emerald light shafted out of Papa's closed eyes. Ran relaxed. Papa was okay now. His eyes were bright again, though he stayed asleep.
“He’s not sick,” Bear finally said, but he was talking to the Queen Tree, not Ran. “He’s broken, and I can’t fix him.”
“Papa’s broken,” Ran repeated, trying this explanation on for size.
Did broken people fall down and shake? Did they have a gray place growing inside their heads? Ran touched that spot where things didn’t feel quite right. Did broken people die? A tear slid down his cheek and a second one joined it. Mama had been broken too, and she was gone. Would Papa go away too one day and never come back?
No, Papa could not die. Ran would fix him since no one else would. And he would have started right that second, but a pair of fuzzy arms embraced him.
“Your Papa is fixable. Don’t be scared. Don’t cry.”
Into those shining button eyes, Ran fell and his sadness lifted, quelling his tears and his fears. The wondrousness of this place pressed in leaving no room for anything but the need to romp and play in those shiny, shiny leaves.
But one question lingered. It would often darken his thoughts in the weeks that followed. How could he fix Papa?
Sarn woke to laughter. Ran giggled and threw handfuls of silver leaves into the air. They sparkled as they rained down on his smiling boy. This is what his son should be doing not accompanying him into d
angerous situations. Sure, he’d had no idea things would turn out this way, but that was no excuse. He was the parent, the protector, and he was doing a poor job of both.
An apology caught in Sarn’s throat. It scalded his tongue when he tried to spit it out. After three tries, he finally forced the words out. His son deserved so much better than he’d given the boy lately.
“I’m sorry.” Tears burned Sarn’s eyes. Ran fell into his arms and they embraced. “Tomorrow, when I come back from work, we’ll spend the whole day together doing whatever you want.”
Ran pulled back to look at him. “No spying? No following bad people around?”
“No, we’ll do something nice, something safe.”
Something leading to laughter and smiles, not tears. By Fate, he’d get the fatherhood thing right for one day. This Sarn vowed and he felt his magic turn that vow into a certainty.
A smile tugged at Ran’s lips and softened his green eyes. “We’ll have a nice ad-ven-ture?”
“Yes, we will.”
“What about the bad man and the scary place?”
Sarn blew out a breath. He wasn’t ready to tackle either of those, not if it would lead to black lumir or the Ægeldar, but what choice did he have? Someone had to figure out what had happened.
But did that someone have to be him?
Yes, it did.
“Who died and made you lead investigator?” asked Jerlo last month from the safety of his office.
Pink light softly illuminated the twitching bodies impaled on those retreating tentacles. Sarn shuddered as the scene changed. Roseate light now suffused the survivors still huddled on the island of pink lumir. Their frightened eyes beseeched Sarn.
He pulled his son into another embrace. Who had made him lead investigator?
All the people who died in that cavern. And those they left behind. Sarn hugged his son, confident he was doing the right thing for the right reasons. The magic sang in his veins because it too was happy.
“Papa? You didn't answer my question.” Ran poked Sarn in the ribs.
“What question?”
“The most important question.” Ran sat up and gave him a worried look. “What are you going to do about the bad man and the scary place?”
Oh, trust his son to ask the one question he had no answer for yet.
“I don’t know.”
Sarn looked from the carpet of shimmering silver leaves to the white tree towering over him for answers. But as usual, the Queen of All Trees remained silent. One of her roots brushed an inky lock away from his eyes. Another one rolled an All-Fruit the size of his head toward him.
Ran handed it to Sarn. “Eat, Papa!”
He bit into it and reduced it to its core in moments. When a second one rolled by, he ate that too then finally felt human again.
“Thank you, I needed that.” But not the third one rolling his way. Sarn ignored it and regarded his Queen.
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but for a moment, she doubled, and he was looking at two silver trees. One was human-sized. He blinked, and the two trees merged.
Why did I think there were two? Everyone knew there was only one Queen of Shayari—the Queen of All Trees. Sarn rubbed his brow. This brittle mage thing was hell on his perceptions.
But Sarn couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something important. So much had happened this afternoon, and he still had to go to work tonight. Fate only knew what he'd find tonight.
“What happened?”
The Queen of All Trees held her peace. Her presence was comforting but not her silence.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Every bloody thing I encounter talks in my head, so why not you?”
“I don’t talk in your head.” Ran’s frowning face popped up in Sarn’s field of view.
“I know, and I’m glad you don’t.” Sarn tweaked his son’s button nose. “But I wish she would because I want to know what’s happening and she knows.”
But Shayari’s sylvan Queen remained silent. Her branches arched over his head defining the limits of this oasis, this place outside of time.
Why would she hide them? And who from—the mist, the Ægeldar, black lumir or all three? Sarn rose, eyes widening at the realization. He had been here before. A snatch of a dream from two weeks ago floated back to him, but it faded before he caught more than a glimpse.
Time flowed past them in twinkling ribbons of the night sky. Each one was edged in violet light barely perceptible against the white glow of the Queen of All Trees. Constellations diverged behind her and merged again once they’d woven around the shield she held. Sarn stared at the radiant edge of her sphere of influence until it resolved into symbols. She lowered a branch and inclined her crown in an invitation.
“Go have a look. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
Sarn glanced over his shoulder. A ghostly Bear glowered at Sarn with fathomless eyes. In their depths, hands spun around a numbered countenance as time unspooled. What did a day mean to a spirit who’d lived forever?
Where had such insight come from? Sarn stepped back. He’d gone too far into the weird today. “Another time perhaps.”
But Ghost Bear was nodding his white limned head. “Well, you’re sharper than you look.”
Shadows lanced the Queen of All Trees shaking her trunk. Her oasis flickered. A white chess piece dropped through her branches. Sarn fingered the carved edges of a pawn.
“What does this mean?” He held the chess piece up. A branch relieved him of it, but its owner declined to answer. “Why won’t you speak to me? Have I offended you in some way? I’m sorry if I have.” Sarn toed the silver leaves under his boots. A lump formed in his throat. “I make a mess of everything I touch.”
“No, you don’t.” Ran leaned into his leg, his little face upturned. In those trusting green eyes, he could do no wrong. Sarn rested his hand on his son’s head, thanking the boy without words for that trust.
The Queen of All Trees stabbed at something and her oasis shattered into a cascade of twinkling shards.
“What’s happening?”
Sarn staggered toward her—the symbol of all his hopes and dreams. His Queen was under attack, but by who—the Ægeldar, black lumir or something else?
He had to help her. Before he could, everything disappeared into a white flare.
It’s Not Over
Dirk stood there long after that psycho and her entourage had marched across the meadow unable to move. It was like watching two wagons collide in slow motion, but which would be the victor—the forest or the crazy woman?
What did he care? He’d fulfilled his end of the bargain. There were more coins to earn, more buyers to interest and friends to check on. Yet Dirk stood there waiting, though for what? The enchanted forest to tumble down? Proof that the fear circling in his gut was unfounded?
Dirk flashed back to that shadow show. Had the sun really dimmed when psycho zealot girl opened that box? No, you’re imagining things again.
Turning his back on the forest, Dirk headed toward the mountain and the patch of deep shadow staining its feet. A figure waved to him and he increased his pace. What he needed now was a friendly face. He’d been gone long enough for his friends to exact more of those queer black gems. It was time to go collect.
When he reached the cave, Dirk hesitated, unwilling to cross from the sunlit meadow into the deep, moist dark of the Lower Quarters. A feeling of foreboding made him break out in a cold sweat. You’re being silly.
Dirk tried to shake off his unease, but there was a frightening thought nosing around inside his mind. More of a question really, but he refused to entertain it. What did it matter if he’d sold real black lumir?
Psycho Zealot Girl had taken it deep into the forest. What harm could it do there? Plenty if the legends about that stone were correct, but that was a big if.
Before Dirk could become mired in such thoughts, an arm dropped around his shoulders, and a black-robed man offered him a sickle smile. There was something off abo
ut his eyes. Dirk blinked, and the hood melted into flowing black locks that framed an everyman’s face as forgettable as it was reassuring.
“Ah, Dirk, my friend, I have a line on another buyer.”
“Oh? Tell me more.”
“He’s well-off and young, quite inexperienced at gem buying.”
“Where do I find him?”
His interlocutor jerked his thumb upward. So, this new buyer wasn’t in the Lower Quarters. Well, that was a good sign.
“There’s one other thing.” That sickle smile returned momentarily disrupting the man’s bland countenance.
“And what’s that?” Out of the corner of Dirk’s eye, the tunnel blurred as if each step he and his companion took, jumped them farther ahead than any normal stride.
“You need to convince him to do something for me. But first, let’s go collect that ‘black lumir’.”
“What’s the buyer’s name and how will I know him?”
“He’s called Straymos. Don’t worry. You’ll know him. He’s hard to miss.” When his friend smiled, it was a tad too wide and toothy.
It set Dirk on edge, but his worries were quickly banished by the thought of fleecing a noble lout. But he couldn’t go inside just yet.
A niggling fear made Dirk pivot until he faced the distant forest. It looked like it always had. Forest giants stood sentinel ten-feet from the second circle of standing stones, giving no hint of their magical nature. But he could not turn his back on them.
They’d stood since Shayari’s founding, protecting her and her people. Did I just hand over your undoing?
His mind replayed that awful scene—the sun dimming, the grass graying and that feeling of something being stripped from him. Dirk shuddered, but he couldn’t switch off those terrible images.
What if that stone is black lumir? Hadn’t you better check? Dirk took a step toward the forest and a thousand branches beckoned him on.
“Are you coming?” asked his companion.
“Not yet, I need to check something. It shouldn’t take long.”
Judging by the manic gleam in that sword-happy psycho’s eyes, he wouldn’t need to go far.
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