“You don’t have to go, you know,” I say.
“Don’t be silly. If course I know that. I want to come. I’ve dreamed of leaving Cerion for as long as I can remember.”
“But why?” I can’t imagine. Cerion is a good place. A place you want to stay. It’s safe. Kind. Clean. Peaceful.
“Adventure,” Saesa grins. “It’s boring here. I want to see what’s outside of the gates, Tib! And now we’re going to!” She starts pulling things out of her own pack. Leggings of green leather dotted with brass studs. A sturdy vest of the same. Sleeves and bracers. Leg guards. With each item she pulls out, she gasps. “Where did all this come from? The princess?”
Raefe climbs in before I can answer, and the carriage starts moving. I reach over and pull up the shade so it doesn’t feel so closed. Try not to picture Nan sitting across from me or the terror on Zhilee’s face as we bump along the cobbles. Instead I watch Raefe open his pack.
“I needed one of these…” he murmurs as he pulls out a chain mail shirt. “These, too,” he says in awe as he turns a pair of well-made studded gloves in his hands. “Who are these from?”
“A friend.”
“A friend,” I repeat. Outside, the gates of the city streak past us. We’re moving fast. Faster than a carriage like this should be able to.
“So, are you two going to tell me the big secret?” Raefe asks as he pulls on one of the gloves. “I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out there isn’t any uncle in Ceras’lain.”
“Not yet.”
In the time it takes me to glance at Saesa, something shimmers over Raefe. His eyes close slowly. He falls asleep. Then Mevyn does something that surprises me. He shows himself to Saesa. Sits right on her knee and reveals himself. Saesa gasps. Looks into his eyes.
“I remember you,” she says. “I do! You’re the one who told me where to find Tib!”
“I am,” says Mevyn.
“Did you just make Raefe go to sleep?” She looks across at her brother, a little concerned.
“I did,” Mevyn says. “He isn’t ready yet.”
“Ready for what?” Saesa whispers.
“To know the truth,” Mevyn replies.
“Oh.”
“He will sleep as far as the mountains,” Mevyn says. “When we reach the White Wall, I will wake him again.”
“What’s that?” I ask. “The White Wall?”
“It’s the border between Cerion and Ceras’lain, where the elves live.” Saesa explains. Lilen says it’s made of the grandest white-barked trees you’ve ever seen, all grown to take the shape of past elf kings. They line the wall for leagues and leagues. Inside of them it’s hollow. The White Line lives there. They’re the elves that keep watch over the border to make sure that anyone who enters is worthy. Lilen says they have ways of seeing your darkest secrets. Only those with good intentions can enter.”
I shiver as I look out the window. I have secrets. Dark ones. I wonder if they’ll let me through.
“Don’t worry.”
No, don’t worry. Mevyn is right. Somehow, I know he has a plan that will make sure we get to Kythshire. Too much depends on it. Margary. Twig. The Sunteri Wellspring. My sister. We make our plan. We’ll get Raefe to Evelei in Felescue. Then we’ll slip away in the night to Kythshire. Make the rest of our journey on foot. Mevyn says they might not even let me and Saesa in. The fewer in our party, he says, the better. Besides, Ceras’lain is safe. The elves are peaceful. We won’t have trouble traveling alone.
“Look at the road,” I say to Saesa. We’ve been following on the map. As we race past the village called Valleyside, the road gets smoother. It’s made of flat stone that glitters in the sunlight. Saesa slides nearer to me to watch out the window. The air is warmer here, even as we climb into the mountains. We shed our cloaks and tuck them under the bench.
Saesa makes me turn around so she can put on her new armor while we climb the winding mountain road. I watch Raefe sleeping. He’s scowling. Fighting. Having a nightmare.
“Get your hands off her!” he shouts in his sleep. He throws his fist to the side so hard that he dents the metal wall of the carriage. Saesa rushes to him. Takes his arm. He throws her off. Growls. Kicks.
“Raefe!” she cries. The carriage slows. Stops. I hear our guard climbing down from the seat on top. His name is Gruss. Mevyn ducks behind me as he peers into the window.
“Everything all right in here?” he asks. Saesa nods.
“My brother’s just having a nightmare.” She shakes him. “Raefe, wake up.”
“All right, well, you can’t be jumping around in there. You could turn the carriage. These mountain roads are treacherous. Sit still.” He glances over his shoulder. “Not a good place to stop.”
As soon as he utters the words, I see them. Eyes in the deep green forest, peering out at us. Dozens of them. Watching.
“Drive, Edsin,” Gruss grips the handle beside the door. “Drive, dammit!” The carriage picks up speed. Something hits the sides. Lots of things. One of them pierces through the wall right beside me. Arrows.
“Cease your attack, in the name of the Throne of Cerion!” A voice booms from above us.
“Get ready.”
Yes, get ready. I pull on my new bracers. Take a throwing knife in each hand. I’ve never thrown knives before. I wonder what Mevyn was thinking.
“The blue vial. Put it on the blades.”
I do as he says. The arrows keep coming. Saesa draws Feat. Crouches beside the door, ready. Raefe wakes slowly. Above him, Mevyn fades from view. When he hears the chaos, Raefe’s alert. He sees Saesa at the ready and draws his rapier.
“What is it?” he peers past her.
“Brigands, I think,” Saesa whispers. “Lots of them.”
Outside, the escort is shouting. Faster, faster. The driver pushes the horses. The trees streak past in blurs of green and yellow. The arrow strikes slow down, but we don’t. We fly over the smooth road. Then the darkness creeps in, chilling us. The shadows. I know this threat right away. Dreamwalker. The horses slow. One of them screams. I never heard a horse scream before. I hope I never do again. The carriage stops.
“Cut it loose,” one of our men is saying. “Quickly.”
“I give the orders here, Gruss,” says Edsin angrily. “You cut it loose.”
“Bah, what difference does it make?” Someone jumps down. Gruss, I think. “We gotta keep moving.”
“Hitch yours up, Dev. Move it!”
Saesa risks it. Pokes her head out of the door. Her eyes go wide.
“One of the horses is down,” she whispers. “Shot. They’re hooking up one of the other ones now.”
“Get your head in!” Raefe hisses. She does just as an arrow sinks into the wood of the door frame where she had just been looking.
“They’re coming,” she whispers. She isn’t afraid. She’s ready to charge outside. Fight. Oddly, I am too. I feel brave. Confident.
“Hold, there!” Gruss shouts. “In the name of Cerion, hold!” Arrows screech. Thud into flesh. Another horse screams. “Your actions are treasonous! You will stop in the name of the King!”
“Is that who you have in there, pretty little man? King? Princess? No, something else. We can smell it.” A voice drifts from the underbrush. “Something with great magic.”
“Give to us, and you shall pass.”
“Yes, give. Give to us.”
The voices echo in whispers through the leaves. Wild. Feral.
“Give to us.”
“Not something. Someone.”
“Fae. Fae. Fae.”
“Sunteri fae.”
The whispers give me chills. Shrill and desperate. Hungry.
“Give to us or die.”
“How do they know?” I whisper to Mevyn, who is hidden beside my ear.
“The Dreamwalker told them.”
Saesa looks at me, her green eyes determined. All secrets have a price. Some are worth more than others. This one could be worth our lives.
Chapter
Fourteen: The White Line
Tib
“What are they talking about?” Raefe whispers. “We don’t have anything like that.”
Saesa turns to look at me over her shoulder. Waits for me to say something. Outside, the whispering continues. I watch her. Wonder what she’ll do. She shakes her head. Her lips press into a thin line. Her fingers flex on her sword.
“They’ll see my blade first,” she whispers to me.
“Give to us. Give, and you shall pass.”
“No need to fight. Give to us.”
Outside, the men keep working. There are four of them. Three guards and a driver. Two on horseback, and Gruss who was riding on the carriage. He comes to the door now. Opens it a crack.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We don’t give in to brigs. Stay inside.” The whispering stops. They’re waiting for Gruss’s reply.
“Send out your leader,” Gruss calls. Laughing erupts from the forest.
“We are the Wildwood. We are not fools. Give to us. Pay your passage.”
“This road belongs to Cerion,” Gruss shouts. “You have no right—”
An arrow whizzes through the air. Strikes just outside with a clang. Gruss curses loudly.
“Dented my chest plate!” he shouts angrily.
“Hold on to something, Gruss,” one of the other guards calls.
Reins crack. The carriage jolts and rolls forward. We make our escape. The forest shrieks. We race off. Take a corner too fast. The carriage tips with a crash that throws Saesa and Raefe onto me, pinning me. Like the trees. The roots. Her blade glances my bracer. I scream and kick and try to shove them both away. My breath comes in quick gasps. I can’t think. Under us, the carriage is being dragged. Grinding along the road with a deafening screech. The trees will grow around us. The roots will swallow us up.
“Calm down. Be ready.”
Outside, more arrows. More horses’ screams. Scrabbling feet across the stone road. Throaty battle cries. Hisses. Saesa and Raefe push themselves off of me. We roll onto our bellies and slide the driver’s window open to watch. The horses are dead, and one guard already. More frightening are the creatures. Scores of them, rushing us. Wild-eyed, filthy. Stringy looking, like the drained fairies of Sunteri. Bony. Fierce. Larger, though. As tall as Emme, maybe. Twigs and leaves sprout from their heads and backs. Vines wrap their arms and creep into their hair. They fire their bows and raise their spears. There are too many. We won’t survive.
The storm cloud creeps over us, but it isn’t a storm cloud. I know. It’s Dreamwalker. It blots out the sun so that it could be midnight. The Wildwood clash into the last three of our guards. Gruss has a dozen on him. As soon as one falls, another takes its place. More of them scramble to the overturned carriage. They climb on top of it. Rip open the door that’s now above us.
“Your blades.”
Yes, my blades. My gloved fingers fumble for the blue-crusted knives as black eyes bear down on us. Saesa is the first to attack. She growls and arcs her sword way over her head as they spill inside. Hits two of them. The metal sizzles as it slices through their woody flesh. Their screeching pierces through me. My head pounds. The two climb out, but more come. Saesa and Raefe hold them off. They crawl in from above. They try to shoot through the little driver’s window.
“Throw it.”
I flick my wrist and the knife leaves my hand. I watch its path. It hits one easily, turns impossibly. Hits another. The gashes it leaves sizzle, too, but it’s different. The blue makes sparks that turn to flames. The flames turn their woody flesh to charcoal. The two creatures are engulfed. They drop inside, nearly missing Saesa. The others on Saesa and Raefe stop fighting. The creatures watch in horror, and then lunge at me. I’m ready, though. I have the other blade. I throw it and it catches them. Lights them up. They have no time to climb out. They crumble to ash.
Saesa turns to me, wide-eyed. Raefe looks at me in disbelief.
“Get out,” he says as he comes to his senses. “Get out or we’ll all burn!”
“Stay.”
Yes, stay. I shake my head at them. Raefe clings to Saesa. We watch the flames flicker, fade, and die out. I sift through the ashes for my knives. Wipe them clean. Coat the blades again. Outside, the battle is fierce. One of our guard is down. Edsin, the driver, is down. Gruss is still up, fighting. So is the other guard. They flank the carriage, trying to fend off the Wildwood. The creatures keep coming, though. Swarming from the woods. Outnumbering us a hundred to one.
“There’s no way we’re getting out of this,” Saesa whispers. Raefe and I exchange glances. We know she’s right. The storm cloud seems to sink closer. I feel it pressing in on us.
“Whatever they want, just give it, Tib. You have it. Give it to them.” Raefe says.
“Tib, no,” Saesa whispers. “You can’t.”
Give him up, a voice presses in on me. Not Mevyn. Give him up and be free. Dreamwalker.
“Leave me alone!” I scream.
“Good. Have faith. Throw again.” Mevyn.
Yes, throw. I move away from the others and climb up through the window. Aim at the group on the guard below. Throw. My knife arcs strangely, hitting one after another. Sparking. Opening black, charred wounds. Ten fall. Ten more. Hundreds to go. The rest see it, though. They pause in their charge. They look at me with fear. I raise my arm. My second knife flashes. They cower. Some creep backwards, into the safety of the forest. Others bare their teeth at me.
“Give to us,” they hiss, but the sound is weaker now.
“Leave us alone!” I shout. “You can’t have him! You can never have him, you filthy, disgusting, horrible—”
“Tib, no…”
“Oh, no,” I whisper. Shouting at them is a mistake. It bolsters them, somehow. Enrages them. They surge out of the forest again. Swarm us. Take down another guard. Only Gruss is left. Saesa and Raefe pull me back inside. We ready ourselves at the windows. I coat another blade. Outside, Gruss grunts. We watch through the window as he slides down, lifeless. With him out of the way, the Wildwood spill in toward us. We fight them off. My blades do their work, but coating them again takes time. Too much time. Saesa tries to cover me, but they overcome her. They slash at her face. They drive sharp spears through her shoulder. Beside her, Raefe suffers too. He fights fiercely, but we’re outnumbered.
We crowd together into a corner as the carriage fills with them. They bear down on us, their wood-like teeth glistening. Saesa is panting. Trying to be brave. I think she can’t lift her sword arm anymore. It’s up to me. The Wildwood stink, like decay. Like the musty water that dripped into my mouth. I hate them. I fling my knife and they light up. More come.
Outside, another sound mixes with the whispering and screeching. A lower sound. Like wind catching in a sail, but more rhythmic. Steadier. The sun creeps out again. The storm cloud has broken. The Dreamwalker is gone. The Wildwood in the carriage pause. They look to the sky. The sound comes louder, and with it an odd clicking. Bird-like. Hissing. Snake-like. I creep back to Saesa. She’s holding on.
“The pink vial. Give it to her.”
I search in my bandolier. Find the vial. Give it to her. She drinks it and looks better. An eerie silence falls over the carriage. All around us, the Wildwood crouch down. Hide their heads. They’re like mounds of earth, dotted with seedlings and mushrooms. The three of us peer up out of the window. A great feathered wing sweeps across our view. As Saesa passes the vial to Raefe, I pull myself up to look.
There are three of them. Strange creatures, with bird-like, feathered white bodies. Bigger than horses. At their chests, the feathers fade to scales of blue, green, purple. Their heads are proud. Like swans, with pointed beaks and yellow eyes. On their backs, each has a person. No, an elf. I know what they are, even though these are the first I’ve seen. Sister always wanted to meet one. She read stories and stories about them. Now I understand why. There are two men and one woman, and even the men are beautiful. All dressed in white. Slender and elegant, with pale faces
that smile even though now they’re stern. I think these must be kings and a queen, the way sit with their backs so straight and their shoulders so square.
“Go,” one of the men says. All around us, the rest of the Wildwood hop up and skitter away. Back to the woods. Back to shelter.
“What is it, Tib?” Saesa asks weakly.
“Elves,” I reply. “Riding bird-lizards.”
“The White Line,” she whispers. “On cygnets. Oh, I want to see.” I drop down beside them. Raefe’s arms are around her. He’s shivering even though it’s not cold. Pale. Saesa is slumped against him. She looks a little better after the potion. Not much, but she’s stopped bleeding. I wonder how I got through it without getting hurt. I’m sure Mevyn has something to do with that.
Outside, the elves speak quietly to one another. I don’t understand the words. It sounds like Mage talk. The hair on my arms prickles up. I don’t like magic. It isn’t a spell, though. Just talking. I hear them dismount lightly. Their feet barely make a sound as they walk among the fallen.
“Go and greet them.”
I don’t want to leave the other two, but Mevyn tells me he’ll stay with them. Don’t worry, he says. But I am, a little. Something nags at me. A thought that I try hard to push away. He should have fought more. He should have, but he just hid and ordered instead. Saesa fought. Raefe fought. Mevyn hid. I climb up out of the window. Look at the bodies all around. Dozens of Wildwood. Our three guards and driver. Four horses. Five, if I count the first one we lost. My anger grows. Mevyn has magic. Magic powerful enough that those Wildwood creatures wanted him. He could have done more. He could have prevented these deaths.
“Begone from here,” the lady elf says. Her hair is long and white. It shines yellow in the sunlight that comes through the trees. She carries a bow that’s almost as tall as she is. The carvings on it are detailed. I want to see them closer. Instinct tells me to look away, but I can’t stop staring. I creep forward. “You are not welcome.” At first I think she means me, but then a voice echoes through my thoughts.
Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) Page 16
