Shadows on the Stars

by T.A. Barron

  “The Lady is old,” continued Rhita Gawr, “too old to trouble me now. And besides, just as I have planned, she will very soon give away the greatest source of her remaining power.”

  Taken aback, Kulwych shrank away. “Then if not her, who?”

  “A young woman, a priestess in the Society of the Whole. Her name I know not, but I have felt her as a growing threat. By herself, she has no power worthy of any concern. But she will carry with her that gift from the Lady that I mentioned—an object so powerful that it could conceivably disrupt my plans.”

  Deth Macoll, suddenly intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “And what is this object?”

  Rhita Gawr stopped circling and just hung in the air, a rope of darkness suspended by nothing. “A crystal of pure élano, the last one in Avalon. Until I can break its magic and bend it to my will, as I have this one here, it remains a threat.”

  Deth Macoll nodded. “I see. All right then, I will kill her for you.” He grinned savagely. “I have just the right disguise to get close to her.”

  “And after you kill her,” added the sizzling form by his chest, “you will bring back the crystal. To this very cavern. Though I myself may not be here to greet you, Kulwych will be. And he will tell me if you try any treachery.”

  The man bowed his head. “But of course. It will be a pleasure.”

  PART II

  12 • A Faery’s Flight

  Time for a bath,” grumbled Nuic from his perch on Elli’s shoulder. His skin color, an overheated shade of burgundy, could barely be seen under all the mud and dust.

  “And a drink,” Elli answered, stepping through a grove of tree-sized ferns whose fronds had been decorated with wreaths of pink berries. She looked admiringly at the wreaths, knowing that they were probably the work of starflower faeries, those yellow-winged creatures whose artistic urges had long enlivened Woodroot.

  Hearing the splatter of water nearby, she turned toward a rivulet. It flashed silver in the morning starlight, a luminous ribbon that flowed through the lush forest. Sprigs of brightmint grew along its banks, bejeweled with drops of dew that rimmed every edge of every leaf. This rivulet looked, sounded, and smelled of one thing above all else: freshness.

  As Elli knelt by its edge, Nuic leaped into the water with a splash. Within seconds, his color had changed to a sparkling ice blue.

  She bent lower and drank. Instantly, the chill liquid moistened her tongue, while the sharp scent of mint tickled her nose. For some inexplicable reason, she thought of Tamwyn just then, feeling a hint of sadness at the way they’d parted. Where is he now? she wondered. There was no way she could know that, at that very moment, he, too, was sipping some fresh water, high above in the Great Hall of the Heartwood.

  She frowned, wiping some drops off her chin. Probably he’s lost. Her frown deepened. In more ways than one.

  She heaved a sigh. So why should I care where he’s gone? In the time since she’d left the ruins of the Drumadian compound, retracing her route back north into the high peaks and then trekking into Woodroot, the realm of the Lady of the Lake, she’d thought about little else besides the Lady, Coerria—and Tamwyn. She’d even felt the touch of his strong hands as she climbed down the rope ladder that he had so carefully spliced and hung in the tunnel of the Rugged Path. His work had saved them plenty of trouble (as well as scrapes and bruises).

  As silently as a leaf falling onto a bed of moss, Brionna knelt beside her. With a quick glance at Elli, she took a drink of her own, then said, “Still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. But I don’t know why. He’s not—well, just not . . .”

  “What?”

  Elli’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I don’t know. Just not.”

  Brionna studied her for a moment. “Well, I’m grateful for one thing, at least—that he’s a dependable woodsman. That rope ladder he made was a fine piece of work. Elvish, almost.”

  Elli’s hazel eyes narrowed. “What are you telling me?”

  The elf maiden paused to watch a family of foxes, their bushy rust-colored tails held high, prance along the opposite bank. Then she bent low, holding her long braid to her chest so it didn’t plop into the water, and took another drink. When she came up, she replied, “Look, I know he’s impossible. That just goes along with being a man. But there really is something about you two. Do you feel it?”

  “Sure,” answered Elli. “Like a punch in the gut.”

  Thoughtfully, Brionna scratched one of her pointed ears. “No, I mean something more like this.”

  She dipped a finger into the rivulet. Out it came, with a single droplet on its tip. She shook it gently, so that half the droplet fell into the open palm of her other hand, then shook off the other half as well. The two small droplets stayed there in her palm, quivering, until something new started to happen. Even without any apparent movement of her hand, the two glistening specks seemed inclined to move, wobbling down the creases in her skin until, at last, they rejoined. It was as if they’d been drawn together from the start.

  Elli said nothing for some time, though her fingers touched her bracelet woven from the stems of astral flowers. Finally, she asked, “And what about you and Scree? Are you also like drops of water?”

  Now it was Brionna’s turn to scowl. “More like drops of wax from two different candles. Sometimes, near a flame, we might melt together. But our natural state is separate. And—like the resinwax candles crafted by my people—hard, very hard.”

  “Lard?” repeated Shim, plopping his round little body down on the moist bank of the rill. “You don’tly have much of that, Rowanna me lass.”

  The elf maiden opened her mouth to speak, then, deciding it was hopeless, closed up again.

  Shim suddenly reached over and pinched her muscular arm. She jumped back and swatted him, but his pink eyes gleamed with mischief. “Sees there, lassie? Not even a smidgely bit of fat upon you! Lotsly different from old Shim here.” He gave his bulging bottom a pat. “Nobodies would everly think we’re related, you and me. Certainly, definitely, absolutely.”

  He bellowed in laughter, then broke into a rhyme:

  You be fitty,

  While I be lardly,

  You’re so pretty,

  And I’m so . . . hardly!

  You’re fair and tall

  (And a pigsy grump);

  But I’m short and small

  With a bigsy rump.

  Men fight and steal

  For your every whim.

  Just never reveal

  I’m your uncle Shim!

  He gave her a broad wink. “And you is my most favoritest niece.”

  Brionna tried her best not to laugh, hoping not to encourage him. After all, anyone else who had dared to pinch her would have instantly found himself facing a longbow loaded with a barbed arrow—and no more than three seconds to apologize. Even so, as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t hold back a grin.

  For her part, Elli didn’t try at all. She burst out laughing, as did the gangly priest, Lleu, who had just joined them at the rivulet. Even the silver-winged falcon on his shoulder joined in with a coarse screech.

  Shim gave Brionna a gap-toothed grin. “You knows I’m just being teaserly, don’t you? Surely as your name is Rowanna.”

  She nodded—then suddenly reached over and pinched his arm.

  The little giant yelped, then chuckled at the rudeness of elves—and nieces. Finally, he turned to Elli. “So where is your friend, the Ladily of the Lake? Is we close now?”

  Elli’s face turned suddenly somber. “I hope she still is my friend.”

  From his bathing place, his tiny feet propped against a stone that kept him from floating downstream, Nuic snorted. “Hmmmpff. She’ll probably boil you in oil, stretch you thinner than a spider’s thread, and pound you into dust.” His color brightened just a bit. “But she’ll still be your friend.”

  Lleu waved his long arm at the endless greenery that surrounded them. Right there within his reach were trai
ling vines studded with petals of blue and gold, dense shrubs that looked like miniature maple trees and smelled vaguely like cinnamon, thick pads of moss on the water-soaked stones, mint and dill and lavender growing on the banks, as well as the towering ferns draped with pink berries.

  He touched Elli’s forearm. “I wouldn’t worry, really. Anyone who chooses to live in such a lovely place must be both wise and forgiving.”

  “Hmmmpff,” growled Nuic. “And irascible, too. Believe me, having seen her over enough centuries, I know.”

  Elli twirled one of the hanging vines around her finger. “If she’s angry, that’s just what I deserve. I just hope we can find her soon.”

  “That won’t be easy,” warned the sprite, rolling over to splash himself with water. “Her lair is hidden by layers of magic. Even if it’s somewhere near here, it could take us many days to find it.”

  “We don’t have many days!” objected Elli. “Coerria needs help. And the vision—”

  “I know, Elliryanna.” Nuic’s color darkened. “I, too, saw the vision.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “And heard Rhita Gawr.”

  Peering into the forest, Brionna said quietly, “Granda used to tell me that the pathway to the Lady is made of mist. And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a creature just over there that could guide us.”

  “You mean that wren in the nest over there?” asked Elli doubtfully.

  “No.”

  “The worm by those roots?” guessed Lleu.

  “No.”

  She pointed, but none of the others—except perhaps Catha the hawk—could see any other creatures amidst all the greenery. Elli shook her head in exasperation and asked, “What is it?”

  “Come and I’ll show you,” Brionna replied. As gracefully as a dragonfly lifting off a lily pad, she rose and stepped soundlessly along the bank.

  The others followed, doing their best to be quiet. This wasn’t at all easy for Shim, whose feet seemed to crunch on every twig and scrap of bark. Quietest of all was Nuic, who simply let go of his stone and drifted slowly downstream.

  A moment later, Brionna stopped. Gently, she pulled back a curtain of leaves from a willow bough. There, napping in a knothole of the willow, was a tiny person with delicate, light blue wings. Female, she wore a matching blue robe, stockings, and sash, all made from cloth so thin it was almost transparent. A pair of miniscule silver bells adorned her curved antennae. She could have fit inside the bowl of an elm leaf, and seemed lighter than a milkweed seed.

  A mist faery, Elli said to herself in wonder. She had seen them many times, flocking in the early morning hours, but never so close. Usually a blur of silvery blue motion, mist faeries were both skittish and almost never at rest—two qualities that made this sight one of Avalon’s rarest.

  A breeze stirred the tall ferns, as well as the willow, and Brionna turned to Elli. “How to wake her—that’s easy,” she whispered. “How to speak with her, though, will be hard.”

  Before she realized what she was saying, Elli replied, “If only Tamwyn—”

  She caught herself, but Brionna finished her sentence. “Were here, I know. He could speak the faery’s language.”

  Elli just chewed her lip.

  “I’ll just have to try my best,” the elf maiden continued. “Before she flies off.”

  With that, Brionna bent lower, until her face nearly touched the knothole. Very gently, she blew on the sleeping faery, making the delicate wings flutter. At once, the faery’s blue eyes popped open. With a shriek of fear, she leaped into the air and zipped off in a misty blue streak.

  Brionna started to speak, but by then it was too late. Before she’d even said a word, the faery had disappeared into the forest.

  Behind her, Lleu sighed. “Looks like we’ll just have to find the Lady the old-fashioned way.”

  “By getting lost, you mean.” Nuic climbed up the bank of the rivulet and shook himself dry. As Elli stooped to return him to her shoulder, he added gruffly, “She never did like visitors.”

  Just then a terrible roar shook the forest. Wrathful it sounded, echoing among the trees. The companions froze, trading nervous glances. The roar came again, much closer this time. A flock of crested doves took off, whistling in panic as their wings slapped the air. Branches cracked and snapped in the distance. Then came the sound of an entire tree—or several trees—uprooted and thrown down with a sickening smash.

  Elli’s eyes met Brionna’s. “A dragon!”

  “But,” said the elf, shaking her head, “we’ve seen no dragons in Woodroot for ages.”

  “You’re about to see one now,” declared Lleu. “In just a few seconds, if you don’t get moving.”

  The whole group broke into a run, while the falcon on Lleu’s shoulder took wing. Elli leaped across the waterway, carrying Nuic in her arms so he wouldn’t tumble off her shoulder. All the others followed, crashing through the underbrush, dodging vines and tree trunks, hurtling past scurrying hares, hedgehogs, and squirrels. All around, more animals sought shelter: a speckled green snake slithered into a hole by a tree root; a pair of hedgehogs burrowed into a bed of pine needles; a doe and her spotted fawn flashed past, bounding over a fallen branch.

  Behind them, the dragon’s shattering steps only grew louder. So did its roar, loud enough on its own to shake great oaks and hemlocks down to their roots. Now they could hear the heavy, snarling breaths of the beast.

  “It’s right behind us!” cried Elli.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see a tall spruce smash to the forest floor, taking several smaller trees with it in an explosion of branches. In the space the fallen trees left against the sky, she watched in horror as an immense neck rose upward. Armored with shiny orange scales, each one broader than a boulder, the neck flashed like fire as it lifted. Impossibly long, it stretched on and on, until at last came the colossal head. Trailing towers of smoke from its flared nostrils, the dragon’s face was covered with green and purple scales that were blackened by charcoal. Its enormous ears swiveled wildly, as did its eyes, deep pools of orange flames that glowed with unending anger.

  Then the dragon’s mouth opened. Within its long black lips, flecked with saliva, Elli saw hundreds of murderously sharp teeth—rows upon rows of them, each tooth as tall as a full-grown man or woman. Between them hung the remains of rotting carcasses and strips of blood-streaked fur, licked now and then by the mighty black tongue.

  Again the dragon roared, louder than thunder. Like the others, Elli ran with all her strength, tearing through branches and leaves and spider’s webs, heedless of where she was going.

  All that mattered was escaping the dragon. And those teeth! Her heart pounded inside her chest, her lungs burned. She leaped through a thick wall of greenery and then—

  Fell. Down into a deep pit she tumbled, spinning head over heel, kicking up clouds of dirt and dead leaves. All the companions except the falcon plunged into the pit as well. They spilled down the side, rolled to the bottom, and landed in a tangle of limbs.

  Though her neck and back ached badly, Elli shook the dead leaves off her face and sat up with a groan. She blinked, trying to focus. What she saw made her want to scream: the gargantuan head of the dragon drawing close to the edge of the pit. Its shadow, dark as doom, fell over the group. Elli drew a sharp breath, just as one of those fiery eyes fixed on her.

  She sat there, utterly frozen in heart and mind, as the colossal jaws opened.

  13 • Timer to End All Secrets

  The dragon’s huge head bent toward the pit, as the long black tongue flicked hungrily. Rows of teeth, smeared with dried blood and rotting flesh, gleamed just above the trapped companions.

  Then from the dragon’s mouth belched a thick cloud of smoke. Like lava of the air, it poured down into the pit, slowly covering the group, suffocating them in vile, sulfiirous fumes. Elli, like the others, coughed and gagged. She covered her mouth, waving her arms frantically to clear the air.

  But that didn’t help. Dark smoke stung her nostrils,
her throat, her watering eyes. She couldn’t breathe at all without spasms of coughing. The poisonous smoke was everywhere.

  And then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.

  In half a heartbeat, the dark cloud brightened. As if suddenly shot through with light, it turned shimmering silver. Its noxious fumes vanished, replaced by moistness that seemed as soft as a cloud, and fresh as a woodland stream.

  Mist, Elli realized. It’s turned to mist.

  The vapors swirled about them, sparkling, then slowly pulled apart. Luminous shreds lifted, twirled, and spun, throwing spiraling rainbows into the air. At last, the radiant mist had thinned so much that it seemed to be made more of light than water. Elli and the others in the pit could only blink in the wash of brightness.

  Then Elli realized that the pit, too, was gone. The steep sides had disappeared, leaving them in the middle of a misty plain that stretched on and on in every direction, farther than she could see. Elli turned around, scanning this vast meadow of mist that rolled away endlessly. Nothing but curling waves of whiteness rose above the horizon.

  Except for one thing.

  Out of the farthest edges of mist, a dark shape appeared. Elli tensed, still fearful of the dragon. But this was no dragon.

  The Lady! She’s come to us.

  Yes, answered the woman’s airy voice that spoke inside Elli’s head. With you, though, I am as angry as any dragon.

  Elli winced as the shape drew closer, striding toward them through the vapors. And yet she couldn’t help but appreciate how lovely the Lady looked—just as lovely as she remembered, despite the grim expression. Her vibrant, gray-blue eyes, and the silvery hair that tumbled down in curls as abundant as Elli’s, shone with the magic of the enchantress. Her textured green gown, as light as mist itself, glittered as she moved. So did her shawl, resting like a cloud upon her shoulders.

  And Elli knew what lay beneath that shawl. Wings! Luminous wings, glowing like feathered starlight. For the Lady’s true identity was the legendary Rhiannon—great leader of the early Drumadians, daughter of Elen the Founder, and sister of Merlin. This secret she had willingly entrusted to Elli, Nuic, and Tamwyn. No one else. And how had Elli repaid that trust?