Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2)

by Missy Sheldrake

  “We cannot linger here,” Shoel says. “I ask you once more, Tib, are you certain this is your choice?”

  “Say you’re certain.”

  “I’m sure,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Really, I want to go back on the cygnet. I want to fly again. Shoel puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Be safe, then, friend. Do not hesitate to call on me. Trust in yourself, Tib. You have a strength I have not seen in one so young for many years.”

  Julini eyes me and says something in their language to Shoel. Their discussion goes on for a few minutes. She seems like she’s worried. He does, too. But he shakes his head and says something else, and she nods a little sadly and climbs up onto her cygnet. Saesa comes to my side and takes my hand. The cygnets spring up with a mighty flap of their wings. We watch them rise through the canopy and into the sky beyond until they’re gone.

  “Well, that was an adventure! Imagine, Tib! Wildwoods and elves and cygnets. We spent the night at the White Wall, even! Wait until I tell Nessa and the others. Lilen will be so jealous! So, now where?” She looks off to the east.

  It’s a good question. I know we’re in the right place. The border of Kythshire. Still, I can’t remember why we’re here. Just beyond these trees, I think. Just there is where we need to go. But I get that feeling again, like something is pushing me away. Telling me to get out, that I don’t belong. It makes me want to turn around and leave and never come back. I wonder if Saesa feels the same way.

  “Through there,” I say, and point through the forest to the west. Saesa turns to look.

  “Are you sure?” she asks a little hesitantly. She crosses her arms and takes a small step back. “I don’t know. It seems like we shouldn’t. Where were we going again?”

  “Just walk.”

  Yes, just walk. I take the lead. There is no path. I have to step over brush and climb through thorny vines that catch my skin. Toward the place that warns me. Into the danger. I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions at once. One part of me wants to run far away. The other part knows the importance of going forward. Lives depend on it. Worlds depend on it. I push myself against my judgment. I keep going. Behind me, Saesa grumbles at the thorns.

  “Are you sure this is the right way, Tib? It feels wrong. Maybe we should turn around.”

  “Keep going.”

  Yes, keep going. I reassure Saesa. I push through the thick forest. I change directions without realizing it. Southward. I feel better. It’s not as daunting.

  “This way.”

  Yes, this way. I turn westward again even though I don’t want to. The warning feeling is so strong that my heart races. I don’t like it. I don’t want to go further.

  “Tib, we can’t,” Saesa whispers frantically, tugging on my arm. “We shouldn’t.”

  I can feel it now. A force along my right side. A great, invisible wall. It tells me to go away. To leave. I don’t belong here. I’m not welcome. I crouch for a stick and toss it through the trees. The air shimmers white and silver and gold. The stick passes through.

  It happens all at once. On the other side of the unseen border, the trees twist together. The ground rumbles. Roots. Roots and earth. Bark. Vines. They curl together. They’ll get me, I know. They’ll bind me. Trap me. I turn away. I start to run. Saesa does, too. The trunks lash together. The cracking of wood is as loud as thunder. I stumble and fall, and Saesa trips over me.

  “Wait.”

  Yes, wait. I lie there, panting in the underbrush. I watch in terror. The trees aren’t trees. They’re men. Giants, made of twigs and branches and roots and earth. There are two of them. They look identical, down to the single eye on each of their foreheads. They tower over us. Menacing. Fierce. Still. They don’t need to move. Just looking at them is enough to terrify me. Saesa clings to my arm.

  “Show yourself,” they say together. Their red eyes pulse with each word. Saesa and I look at each other. We’re right out in the open. They can see us. Still, I push myself to my feet and she stands beside me. I take a shaky step forward. “Show yourself,” they command a second time.

  The air shimmers beside me. A tiny winged man emerges. He hovers at my shoulder. He’s dressed in gold armor from head to toe. I stare at him and he gives me a quick glance. As soon as he meets my eye, I remember him. I know him. Mevyn. We’ve been through things together. Many things. We’re a pair. We protect each other. There are holes, but I remember. We’ve traveled a long way together. We’re nearly there now. Kythshire. We’ve come so far. We’re almost done.

  “We are Oren,” the voices boom over us. “We are the Great Forest embodied. The Arbor Keepers. The Fallen and the Risen. Esteemed Guardians of the Eastern Border. Watchers of the East.”

  Mevyn’s wings blur as he darts up to face the Guardians. They’re tall. So tall that their giant heads tower over the tree tops. When he reaches them, he’s so far away that I can barely hear him speak.

  “I am Mevyn. Mason Evret Valor Yester Numinous. Last of the Sunteri Fae. Keeper of the Wellspring. Guide to Valenor. Sworn Sage of the Known. Keeper of Songs. Spear-Bearer. Warden of Sands. Second to Demsin. Second to Valenor. Second to Cintigra. WindCaller. Weaver of Threads. Mindspinner. If you allow it, Lifebringer.”

  One of the Orens holds out its palm and Mevyn settles onto it. A stream of red filled with golden tendrils of light flicks from the giant’s enormous eye. It beams into Mevyn and Saesa moves closer to me.

  “What’s happening?” she whispers. “They aren’t hurting him, are they?” Her hand moves slowly to Feat’s hilt, but she seems to think twice about that and lets it drop.

  “No,” I watch the golden tendrils curl and flick. “Oren is looking at him. At his memories.” I don’t know how I know it, I just do. I can see them too, a little. Pieces of our journey together flash and fade in my mind. As I watch them, they become clearer.

  “What is he showing them?” The golden light reflects brightly in her green eyes as she gazes up.

  “Everything,” I say. “Everything he can remember.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I see it, too. Like a play. Like a show in my mind.”

  “What do you see?” she whispers.

  “I see our time together, and then I see before that, too.” I say quietly. The words come as quick as the images. “Back to when I didn’t know Mevyn. What it was like before. Back when the Sunteri Wellspring was thriving. It wasn’t always a desert around it. It used to be a deep green jungle. Then they came, the Mages.

  “They weren’t careful. They built their cities. They became Sorcerers. They sucked the Wellspring dry. Everything died and crumbled. All around it turned to sand and dust. Then the fae started dying, too. They couldn’t survive on this plane. They passed what they knew and what they were to each other. Passed it down, before they went. Left their empty bodies behind in the sand. Soon there were only a few left.

  “Those few were a collection of all those past. Mevyn is one of them. No, many. He is so many of them now. The last of them. That’s why he has all those titles. He’s holding them for when the Wellspring is restored. For when they can all come back. If he fails, he’ll be alone. They can never come back.”

  “Oh, Tib…” Saesa hugs me and I’m suddenly aware of the tears rolling down my face. I brush them away angrily. This isn’t my sadness. It’s his. I don’t need it. I have enough of my own.

  The other Oren dips its head beneath the canopy to peer at Saesa and me. It blinks its red eye and nods, and I know it’s my turn. I square my shoulders and I let it look at me. The golden tendrils swirl and weave between us. They draw out all kinds of things. Memories from a long time ago that I forgot. Memories too old to cling to. My mother tries to hold me on her lap, but her belly is so round with Zhilee that I kept falling off. Before that, my father. My father working with me strapped to his back. I can only see his neck but I know it’s him. I’ve tried to remember him before, but I never could. I try to see his face, but he fades away. Next comes Nan,
walking me in the field. Someone screaming in the house. Mother. And then mother is gone, and Zhilee is here, and Mother is never coming back. Picking red, red, red. Petal after petal into the basket, for years and years. Hauling. Loading. Starving. Filth. Toil. Sorrow. Sister.

  Viala. My sister, reading her books. Telling stories. Getting lashed for not filling her basket.

  “This we have seen before,” one of the Orens says.

  “Yes, we are aware of this,” the one with Mevyn replies.

  Oren skips ahead past my older sister. It looks further. I can’t stop it. It sees the trees, the roots, the fighting. It watches me climb and burn and swim and sail. It sees Nessa and my friends in Cerion. It sees Margy and Twig. It sees the pit and the Dreamwalker and my fall. It sees our journey, and the Wildwood and the elves. Through it, I can see, too. I see everything Mevyn has hidden from me. I realize how very many holes there were.

  I see his giving and taking of my memories. I see his commands and his control. By the time the tendrils fade and I’m left to my own mind again, I’m fuming. Shaking. Close to raging. How could I be so unaware of how strongly he held me in his grip? How could I let him control me that way? He told me things were my idea when they weren’t. He made me see things his way when I never would have on my own. He used me, like a tool. Used me to do things he couldn’t do himself.

  “Tib,” Saesa whispers, but even her concerned hand on my arm does little to soothe me. I’m furious with Mevyn. I hate him. I want to lash out at him, but he’s still way up, eye to eye with the other Oren. Unaware. I turn to Saesa and shake my head. Oren turns its eye to her and looks. It’s her turn now. It isn’t like with Mevyn, though. I can’t see any of it. I put my hand over hers. I don’t let go. She’s all I have now. My only friend. She stood by me. She was lured in, too, and it’s my fault. I’ll protect her now, until I can get her back home. I won’t let anything happen to her.

  She whispers things while Oren looks. Words, here and there. Mother. Cold. Please. Raefe. I squeeze her hand. Her time with Oren is shorter than mine and Mevyn’s. When it’s finished, the giant blinks slowly. Saesa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

  “You have an object which you have vowed to deliver, Tibreseli Nullen and Saesa of the house of Ganvent. We grant you passage into Kythshire. You shall find Twig at the Ring. Doe will accompany you. In the name of the East, welcome.”

  Saesa and I cling to each other as we cross over the unseen barrier into Kythshire. As soon as we do, everything changes. Colors are brighter. Melodies of birds’ songs delight my ears. The air feels different here, too. Like it’s full of magic. I can feel it all around me, almost like I could reach out and take it and mold it in my hands. Orbs of light float around lazily, all different colors.

  “Oh, it’s more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, Tib. Look!” She points at the trees. “So many of them…” She’s right. I can see them, their eyes all watching us. Hundreds of fairies laughing and pointing and watching curiously. They flutter back and forth from one branch to another. Whisper. Giggle. I have decided I don’t really like them, even though Saesa is dazzled. After everything with Mevyn, fairies give me the creeps.

  One of the orbs drifts close and starts to grow until it’s my size. A pretty lady emerges from it. Her hair is as long as she is tall, and her wings are like a dragonfly’s, long and slender. Her gown is all leaves and flower petals that sparkle with dew. Her large eyes are framed with dark lashes, but the rest of her face is more animal-like. Sort of like a baby deer’s, with a black nose and velvety fur. She’s very strange looking, but beautiful.

  “Hello,” she says with a smile. “I’m Doe. I’m pleased to be your guide.” Her voice is soft, like a breeze through leaves.

  “Hi, Doe! I’m Saesa, and this is Tib. Oh, you’re so beautiful! May I touch your wings?’

  I look up at the other Oren while Saesa chatters with Doe. It’s still streaming memories from Mevyn. He must be old, I think. He has a lot to share.

  “Will he come, too?” I ask the Oren who let us in.

  “If he is worthy.” Oren replies. I gaze up. I don’t know whether to hope he is or isn’t. I want to make him pay for what he did to me, but I don’t want to lose him. It’s confusing to feel both things at the same time, and so strongly, too.

  “This way,” Doe says gently. “They are expecting you.”

  She leads us away down a winding path. It meets with a brook that sparkles and babbles beside us. Saesa and I are quiet. I’m too caught up in the memories that Oren showed me. I imagine she is, too. I wonder what she saw that she had forgotten. For me, it was my mother and my father. Did I always have those memories before I met Mevyn? When were they taken from me? Why would he hide them that way? Beside me, Saesa pauses. She’s staring into the water. Doe stops, too, and watches her.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Jewels,” she whispers. “Look at them, Tib. The whole stream bed is filled with them.” She steps off of the path toward the water and I follow her gaze. She’s right. Beneath the rushing water, I can see them. Flickers of green emeralds and red rubies. Blue sapphires. Nuggets of gold. Just a handful of these riches would make us wealthy for a lifetime. I glance at Doe. A curious smile plays on her face. She blinks slowly. Calmly. Watches us.

  “Saesa,” I try to stop her from going to the stream, but Doe presses a finger to her lips to quiet me. I can tell she wants to see what Saesa will do.

  Saesa is too fixated on the jewels to notice. I can see her struggling with herself. I can imagine what she’s thinking. It would be wrong to take them, but there are so many. And they’re just lying there, like any other useless stone. Still, it’s wrong. Especially right in front of Doe, who’s watching so closely.

  “Come on, Saesa,” I say and step toward her, but she ignores me and wades further into the stream.

  When she bends toward it, reflections of the water’s surface splash across her face. She pauses with her hand in the water. She’s still considering it.

  “Saesa,” I say again. This time, I’m a little more worried. What will happen if she takes some? What will Doe do? All around us, the chattering and giggling of fairies hushes. The drifting orbs of light dim out. I creep closer, ready to stop her if she tries.

  She doesn’t, though. She scoops the crystal clear water into her hand and turns to Doe and asks, “Is it safe to drink?”

  “Of course, child.” Doe smiles.

  We drink until our thirst is quenched, and then continue along the path. Every once in a while, I notice Saesa looking at the jewel-encrusted stream bed with longing, but she resists it. When Doe finally pauses beside a huge willow tree, it’s past noon.

  “Here is our entrance,” she says dreamily. “But you cannot attend the Ring at your size. May I?” She nods to us both and reaches toward us.

  “What?” we ask together. I back away from her.

  “I shall shrink you down to their size, so you do not trample them. There are many, and you are too large.”

  “Can you put us back to normal after?” I ask her.

  “Of course,” she laughs softly, and Saesa and I exchange glances before we agree.

  It’s a strange feeling, shrinking. It makes my skin tingle and my stomach flip. Otherwise, it’s more like everything around us is growing and we’re staying the same. Doe shrinks, too. She ducks into a hole at the base of the tree. Into the darkness of the twisting roots.

  “This way,” Doe beckons. Saesa looks around. She tugs on a tall blade of grass with amazement and laughs, then follows Doe into the roots.

  “Tib!” she calls from the darkness. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

  This close to the ground, the scent of the earth is heavy in the air. The smell brings me back to the desert, to the roots. It’s musty, like the water that dripped into my mouth. The ones before me seem to curl and dance strangely. They taunt me. They laugh. I can’t go in there. I can’t follow, and the roots know it. They know it and they mock me for it
. Saesa pokes her head out and grabs my hand. I fight her, but she pulls me through into the darkness.

  “It’s all right, Tib, see?” she says. “It’s just a door. Open your eyes. Look. Look what’s on the other side!”

  I don’t want to, but I do as she coaxes. I open one eye first, then the other. We’re not in the roots. We’re outside. I can see why they call it the Ring now. It’s a wide circle of grass, all surrounded by trees. White mushrooms dot the outside of the circle, and it’s surrounded by crowds of fairies. All different kinds, all different colors. Some are bright and cheerful like flowers, and some are dark and dirty like mushrooms. Some are like Doe, and look like animals. Others look like beetles and bugs. There are dozens of them, and they’re all completely silent. None of them turn to look at us when we approach them. They’re all too fixed on something in the center of the circle.

  Saesa and I follow Doe as she creeps closer to the crowd. Doe gasps and covers her mouth, and Saesa cranes to see over a tall, skinny fairy who looks like a broken stick. I crouch on the other side of him until I find a gap to peek through.

  In the center of the Ring, there is a tiny, frail looking child standing on a dark stone. Her skirts look like long pink flower petals, and her hair is a greenish yellow puff on top of her head. A tall, slender man kneels in front of her. I don’t think he’s a fairy. He doesn’t have wings. He’s dressed in blue and gold Mage robes, and he looks vaguely familiar. Beside him in the grass, there’s an arrangement of deep blue armor. It sparkles in the sunlight like polished stone. A white cloak is spread out beneath it. I shift to try to see it better, since that’s what everyone seems to be interested in.

  “Is that…?” Saesa whispers.

  “That’s Crocus,” Doe whispers.

  “No, not her,” Saesa says under breath as she cranes her neck to see better. She moves closer to me. Peeks through my gap. Claps her hands over her mouth. Her eyes go wide and she turns to me in disbelief. “Sir Azaeli,” she breathes. I look again and see the blonde braid draped over the shoulder of the armor. I can’t see her face. It’s covered by her visor.