Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2)

by Missy Sheldrake

  “I go where I like,” it says.

  “You shall fail,” one of the men declares. His hair is long, too, and just as white. His armor is white. His sword and shield are white. “You shall be destroyed.”

  “Go, Dreamwalker. While you are still able.” This one is the same as the other two. Too beautiful to look at. So white he gleams and I have to squint, but I can’t look away. As he walks toward me, I can feel the weight of the Dreamwalker lifted. It’s almost like the elf has a cloud following him. A bright cloud. Full of hope. It settles over me as he raises a fist to his chest to greet me.

  Even through the elf’s fog of false-hope, I hear the Dreamwalker’s reply. “It has only begun.” Then, nothing.

  “He’s gone,” I whisper, relieved.

  “He can hold no sway over us,” the elf explains. “The Dreaming cannot touch the elves.” He smiles down at me. He’s tall, very tall. The other two brush past us, checking the fallen. I watch one of them pause at Gruss. I hold my breath. She whispers something to him. He sputters. Coughs. Curses. Moves to grab his sword. She holds him down. Murmurs soothing words in elven. He settles. She raises her head, tips it to the side. Stares at the carriage. Says something in their language.

  “I see now, what had the Wildwood so interested,” Mevyn translates her words in my mind.

  “Oh, that is clever.” Her laugh is melodic. It makes me smile. She turns to me. “I shall speak in your language then, my child. Come with us to the wall. There, we can discuss things more openly. All of us.” She helps Gruss to his feet. The men help Saesa and Raefe from the overturned carriage.

  Saesa gapes at the cygnets. Raefe stares at the road strewn with bodies. The elves help us onto the mounts. They secure us in the front of the saddles. Saesa and I sit together, side by side with the lady elf behind us. The cygnet’s wings stretch out, and we slowly rise.

  Up we go, higher than the tree tops. Higher than the ship’s tallest mast. Higher than the tallest burning tower. Higher than the cliffs of Cerion. I can see everything from here. All of the world. I want to stay in the sky forever, with the wind blowing my hair and the sun shining on my face. No one can touch me here. Up here, I’m safe. Up here, I’m free. Beside me, Saesa whoops and throws her fist up.

  “Saesa, hold on! Both hands!” Raefe shouts from the cygnet beside us. He isn’t enjoying the ride as much. His shoulders are hunched, his knuckles white. He says something to the elf behind him who laughs. Raefe leans over and loses his breakfast. On the cygnet on the other side of us, Gruss clings to the seat. He looks like he’ll be ill, too.

  “Go higher! Faster!” Saesa shouts, and our rider pulls the reins to make the cygnet surge upward. We laugh together as we glide on the wind until I can see the line of white stretching through the forest below us. The cygnets dip low and my stomach jumps up as we glide along the White Wall. It’s just like Saesa described. The trees are tall, bold, and white. They’re shaped like kings, with branches sprouting from their heads like crowns. When we get closer, I can see platforms along the branches. Some are lined with sentinels and others are empty. We land on one of the empty ones with an easy grace that surprises me.

  My heart races as the lady elf helps me and Saesa down. This place is nothing like Sunteri’s desert or Cerion’s snow-covered streets. Everywhere is green. It smells like flowers and sounds like rushing water. It reminds me of the atrium in the castle, where Margy offered me nectar and cakes. Other elves rush to take care of the cygnets while our three lead us away from them. Raefe still looks a little green. He leans on Saesa for support. Something about this place makes me feel lighter. I can see it in the others, too. Even Gruss looks better.

  “Where are we going?” he asks. “What about my fallen comrades? We can’t just leave them in the road.”

  “They are being retrieved, even now,” the elf who was Raefe’s driver says. “We shall respectfully return their bodies to Cerion.”

  He turns to face us as we pause in a small room with a high, domed ceiling. There’s a hole at the top to let the light in. It shines over carvings in the wood. Leaves and fairies. Wildwoods and flowers. Winding vines. Animals great and small. They seem to dance along the wall. I don’t realize the elf is talking to me until I feel Mevyn nudge my jaw. I blink. Everyone is staring. Waiting for me to answer whatever his question was.

  “Sorry, what?” I ask.

  “I said, you are the bonded one?” I glance at the others. Remember what Mevyn told me. We’re a pair. We’re bonded now. We work together. Belong together. I nod. Saesa looks at me, confused. “Very well. The two of you shall join me, please. The other three shall go with Julini and Zevlain.” He makes a graceful gesture with his hands at the other elves and bows his head. Raefe scowls and counts us.

  “Um, there’s only four of us,” Raefe says. Julini and Zevlain laugh softly.

  “Doesn’t matter, we’re not splitting up.” Gruss crosses his arms. “I’m sworn to protect these. All of them. Can’t do it if some are one place and some are another.”

  “And I’m not going anywhere without Tib.” Saesa steps to me. Takes my hand. My face gets hot.

  “Nor I, without Saesa.” Raefe puts a hand on Saesa’s shoulder and she rolls her eyes slightly.

  “Adorable,” Julini says in the elf tongue. Thanks to Mevyn, I understand her. “Still they don’t trust us.”

  “What do you expect?” Zevlain shakes his head. “Especially from that one. The guard.”

  “Their language is so beautiful,” Saesa whispers. “Like a song without music.”

  “We shall go together, then,” the first one says. “But if you wish our help, we will need to speak with the one who needs it most.”

  “I’ve heard the elves were cryptic,” Raefe whispers as we follow them through bright archways. “Guess that wasn’t an exaggeration.”

  Once, when I was young, I found a wasps’ nest that had been abandoned. I pulled it apart and discovered all of the little chambers where the wasps made their homes. The White Wall reminds me of that nest. One side is closed off, with rows and rows of doors that go all the way to the treetops and down to the roots, too. The other side is arches grown from the wood of the trees. It overlooks a sunlit valley far below. Mists from waterfalls float in places along our path. It’s sort of the same as my root prison, but it feels too different here. Peaceful. Safe. Bright.

  They bring us to a high platform that has comfortable chairs and a table set with food and drink. Above us cygnets roost in the towering branches of the tree. Below, a little stream trickles down along ferns and moss. It’s a nice sound. I like it. It’s pleasant here.

  “Well, perhaps we should start at the beginning,” my rider puts his fist to his chest again. “I am Shoel. This is Julini, and that is Zevlain. We are three of the White Line. Our station is Kueles’ke, the Mountain Road, as you call it. Our cygnets heard your struggle while we were out on patrol. I regret our timing. Perhaps many Wildwood would have been spared, had we arrived sooner.”

  “What about our men?” Gruss demands. “Our horses? Those rabble attacked us, and you mourn for them? Then you wonder why we don’t trust you.” Gruss glares at the elves. “I lost three good men out there and some fine horses, too. If your job is to keep those creatures in check, you’re doing a poor one.”

  “Adorable,” Julini smiles. “Look how his face goes so red.”

  “Don’t laugh, Juli. See how upset he is?” Zevlain murmurs beside her.

  “And you don’t even have the courtesy to speak Common!” Gruss barks. Saesa, Raefe, and I move closer to each other. We stay quiet, like children are supposed to when adults are fighting.

  “Forgive my contradiction,” Shoel’s tone is calm. Peaceful. Like he and Gruss are having a cordial conversation about the weather. “It is not our job to keep the Wildwood in check. They are creatures of their own mind, as you and I are. Also, they do not fall within our borders so, as far as elfkind is concerned, they are free to do as they wish.”

&n
bsp; “So you’re saying since they’re in Cerion and not Ceras’lain, they’re not your problem?” Gruss crosses his arms.

  “Indeed.” Shoel nods. “Still, it is unusual for the Wildwood to disturb travelers. They are peaceful creatures. They keep to themselves.”

  “Well, something got into these,” Gruss says. “Never saw anything like it.”

  “Yes, you are most right,” Zevlain says. He looks at me. “Something did.”

  Gruss doesn’t miss it. He puts himself between me and the elf. Rests a hand on his sword.

  “Friend,” Julini smiles at Gruss, “tell me, what was your vow regarding these young ones?”

  “To see them safely to the gates of Ceras’lain.”

  “And so you have,” says Julini softly. “Your vow is met. Your task is done. Leave them in our care. We shall give you a meal and a horse for your return. Come.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. Smiles. Slowly, his knit-together brow smoothes out. He turns to us.

  “Thank him. Tell him you’ll be safe.”

  “Thank you, Gruss. We’ll be all right here. Right, Saesa? Right, Raefe?” The other two nod slowly. They don’t seem as sure as I do. Raefe gives Julini a lazy smile. I think he likes her.

  “Thank you, Gruss.” Saesa echoes me and then rushes to him and hugs him. “We thought you’d been killed. I’m so glad you weren’t!”

  Gruss returns her hug. He looks at me over her disheveled red curls. “You sure?” he asks.

  I nod, but he still hesitates.

  “We shall keep them safe. We have no reason to harm children here. Please, go with a light heart. You have fought bravely. May your journey home be quick and without peril,” Shoel bows to him.

  “Right…” Gruss shrugs one shoulder uncomfortably. “And I guess I should thank you. For saving my life and all.”

  “Of course,” Julini smiles.

  “Well, you lot be careful,” he says, pointing at the three of us. Then he glances at the elves again, and follows Julini out.

  Chapter Fifteen: Boundaries Breached

  Tib

  The elves are generous and kind. They bring healers to look at Saesa and Raefe, and they fix them up right there on the platform. The healers are just as impressive as the warriors. Not like the ones in Cerion who wear brown robes all of the time. These are dressed in bright blues, greens and purples. They’re just as tall as Julini and Zevlain and Shoel. Their skin is just as pale. Their hair just as white. One of them, a lady, has colorful feathers tied in her hair and bells that chime as she moves. Saesa loves her. She stares and grins and talks and talks to her about everything.

  Raefe gets his own healer. He isn’t as talkative with his, though. He lies back in the chair that has a long end to put his feet up on. My own healer comes to me. Gets me comfortable. Tells me his name is Celorin. Checks my eyes and teeth and nose. Doesn’t touch, just runs his hands above me. He starts at my head and goes all the way to my feet. He stops there at my boots, like there’s something interesting there.

  “This child has lli’luvrie,” he says to the others, in their language. They all pause.

  “Yes. He is paired.” Shoel comes to stand beside him. He says something else, but Mevyn doesn’t translate it for me.

  “What’s lli’luvrie?” I ask. The two elves look at each other.

  “It is a special word,” Shoel explains. “The closest meaning it has in your language is…” he looks to Celorin for help.

  “Mm…” Celorin taps his lips thoughtfully. “Tether, I believe.”

  “Yes, that’s it.” Shoel nods. He looks over his shoulder at the others. Raefe has fallen asleep. Saesa is chatting away with her healer. They’re well distracted. He sits down next to me. “Why have you come here,” he keeps his voice low, “all the way from Sunteri? And why have you brought,” he nods at my boots, “that which you have brought?”

  “Tell him we must talk alone. Go with him.”

  “We must talk alone,” I say before I can even think. The words are elven. They’re strange to say. I look across at Saesa and Raefe. They’re safe, but I’m uneasy leaving them. This place is too big. We would never find each other if we got separated. Shoel nods and gets up. He gestures for me to follow him. I don’t want to. I try to stay, but my legs slide off the chair and I’m on my feet before I know it.

  “I’m not leaving them,” I say firmly. I plant my feet. It makes me feel dizzy but I do it anyway.

  Shoel turns. I think he realizes that I’m not talking to him. I cross my arms. Wait for Mevyn. He says nothing. Still, I don’t budge.

  “What is it you fear in stepping away for a moment?” Shoel asks gently. It makes me feel childish.

  “I don’t want any of us to get lost,” I explain.

  “Zevlain.” Shoel says to the remaining White Line. He straightens a little in response. “Wait here with the young ones until we return.”

  Zevlain nods. Saesa looks up from her conversation. She starts to get up, but her healer says something and she sits again. I wave to her. Try to tell her it’s all right. I hope I’m right. I still feel uneasy as I walk away from them. I’m starting to resent Mevyn. His orders. His demands. Protecting him while he hides away. But then I remember how he saved me from the roots.

  How we were able to help each other through the desert to Zhaghen. We needed each other. We still do. I think of the word Celorin used. Lli’luvrie. Tether. My boots. Think of my reluctance to take them off. Wonder why Mevyn didn’t just tell me what they were, or why I never figured it out on my own. Now that I know, it’s so obvious.

  And where does he go? Why does he even need a tether, if Sunteri’s Wellspring is dry and there’s no one left there? I remember the long stretches of time in our recent past when he seemed to be gone. I felt so alone. He went someplace. He left me. But where? Why haven’t I ever wondered about this before? Because he took my memories away? Maybe it has to do with Ceras’lain. I feel different here. Clearer. I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I bump into Shoel when he pauses at a door. He turns and looks at me over his shoulder. He’s amused.

  “Sorry,” I murmur. He nods.

  “Please,” he says as he sweeps his hand through the open door. As soon as it closes behind him, Mevyn emerges. He looks paler. Not as gold as before. A little battered looking. Tired, like he’s trying hard. What’s the phrase Nessa uses? Keeping up appearances.

  “It is customary,” Shoel starts without any formality, “for a fae to bring himself to our size when visiting Ceras’lain, that we might look each other in the eye.” Suddenly I’m afraid, and I don’t know why. A glance at Mevyn explains it. This is his fear, not mine. “But I see that you are weak, and so I shall not ask it of you.”

  “Well, that’s very accommodating of you,” Mevyn’s long hair curls and waves as he speaks. His tone is sarcastic, I think. I stare at him. The gold lines on his skin glow and fade and glow again. I want to ask him things. Lots of things. I want to be like Saesa and think of all the best questions. Instead I sit quietly in a chair, out of the way. I don’t interrupt. I listen. I’m only here because Mevyn wants me to be. I’m not meant to be part of the conversation.

  That’s made even clearer when they start speaking in the elf language. Without Mevyn translating, I don’t understand. Saesa says it sounds like a song with no music. Not to me. To me it’s frustrating. Rude, even. I can’t do anything but listen and try to figure out what they’re saying and why they don’t want me to know. They talk for a long time. All I can get from it is Mevyn is hiding things and Shoel is suspicious. Finally, Mevyn turns to me.

  “The elf would like to ask you questions. Be honest. I’ll wait elsewhere.” He disappears, leaving me alone with Shoel. He comes closer to me. Sits in a chair close by. Even when he sits, his posture is perfect. Like he’s always on watch. Always alert. I sit straighter, too. It makes me feel stronger. He smiles.

  “Tell me, friend,” he says warmly, like he really is a friend, “how do you feel?”

  I don
’t understand the question. It’s too broad. I’m not sure how he wants me to answer it. Suddenly I wish Mevyn was still here. He’d know. He’d tell me the right thing to say. Shoel tilts his head slightly. Watches me. I feel like he can see my struggle.

  “Fine,” I say. It’s a good answer. A safe answer.

  “You look well enough.” He drums his slender fingers on the arm of the chair. They don’t look like warrior’s fingers. They’re too smooth. Too elegant. All of him is. “Fed and clean, outside of your battle grime. You throw, I see?” He nods to the knives on my bandolier. They’re all still there. I wonder why he and the other elves didn’t try to take them away.

  “I just started.” I think of the battle. Remember how the blades spun and hit more than one mark. How did I do that?

  “You’re a fair mark,” he nods. “You felled many of the Wildwood with your faerie fire.” The blue liquid Mevyn told me to use was faerie fire. Interesting.

  “Is that what this is about?” I forget to sit straight. I slump back against the cushion. My heart starts to race. I killed a lot of them. Twenty, maybe thirty. “Am I in trouble?”

  “We do not take it upon ourselves to dole justice outside our own kind, young one. We leave that to your own conscience. No, you are not in trouble. I speak to you now out of concern for your safety.”

  “What do you mean?” My leg starts to bounce nervously. He eyes it. I stop.

  “Did you enter into this partnership with Mevyn of your own free will?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer slowly, thinking back. “It just sort of happened. We were in trouble. We needed each other to survive.” The question annoys me. It’s not his business.

  “Do you wish to remain with him?” He watches me closely. I try to keep my face even while I think about it. I never really considered that, the possibility of going on by myself. It never entered my mind. I wonder why. Did Mevyn keep me from thinking about it? Or was I just happy to go along with him? The idea bothers me. I don’t like it. I don’t like Shoel for asking me such a thing. He has no right.