by P. A. Wilson
“We created it when the stone was lost,” Leafcreek said. “The stone was supposed to stay in place until the end of time.”
Leafcreek’s answers were plainly spoken, but there was no information in them. She was determined to get the full story of the stones when they were done.
With a nod, Leafcreek seemed came to the end of his preparations.
“The chant is six words; Ethern Minalias ysgrd etoneth aluintail billianate. They mean nothing, it is simply the sound we need. Speak them with the same cadence as I did and all will be well.”
Willowvine ran the words in her mind to set them, then, at Leafcreek’s signal she started to walk the path. As the others joined her, she felt the vibration of the harmony in her bones, then in her feet through the stones she paced. It seemed like the very air was shivering to their words.
Time disappeared.
The world disappeared.
The only thing she was aware of was her progress toward the center.
In moments, or hours, she was standing at the center of the labyrinth. She felt the other two draw next to her. When they were together, Leafcreek, still chanting, gestured for her to place the stone at the top of a triangular indent. It felt as though the earth reached up to accept the stone as she bent to place it.
The chanting stopped. The stone sank a little, and the sounds that had enclosed them faded away. Willowvine noticed that the indentation would hold two other stones, but the earth wasn’t bare like it had been for the Stone of Family. Before she could ask, Leafcreek hustled them into the house with a promise of food and wine.
Chapter 47
Willowvine accepted the glass of wine and sank into a chair at Leafcreek’s table. The ceremony had been short, but it had drained her energy as much as the fight with Vitenkar and Maynard. It had been too long since she was able to really rest.
There was still one worry to deal with. “We will have to go and get Maynard.”
“Who is this Maynard?” Leafcreek asked. “A friend?”
Willowvine laughed, almost choking on the sip of wine she’d taken. Springheart explained the events that had kept them occupied so long. “We need to take Maynard with us when we go. I’m not sure what to do about the two scree.”
Leafcreek placed a platter of food on the table. “This will do more to heal you than my magic. I will take care of the dead bodies. This human may benefit from the opportunity of meditating in an empty building. I will send someone to watch over him until morning. I hope you will accept my hospitality until you leave?”
It would be nice to have a bed to sleep in for the rest of the night. Willowvine looked at Springheart, he was better, but his face was still too pale for her happiness. “Thank you. I was hoping you would tell us the story of the labyrinth, and the empty places.”
Leafcreek took a cloak from a peg. “Let me go make the arrangements and perhaps we can share stories.”
When they were alone, Springheart said, “You didn’t try to negotiate a reward.”
He sounded proud of her, but she couldn’t let him think she was changed. “There wasn’t time. It just all happened. I’ll settle for getting the story of the empty spaces. Do you think there are other stones?”
Leafcreek bustled back into the room as she spoke. “Oh yes, there are two other stones. But let us not get ahead of ourselves.” He set them up with blankets and cleared space on the floor for them to sleep. “There is a way to tell a tale, and a way to simply give information. I prefer to tell a tale.”
Willowvine started to urge him to get to the details, so used to being short of time that she was unable to let go of the pressure.
Springheart shook his head at her. “We can enjoy the story. We won’t be racing for passage tomorrow.”
She relented, but there was one question she could not put off. “Why are you being so kind to us? You know we are orphans, right?”
“I do not think of you the same way others of our people do. Let me tell the tale, and perhaps you will come to understand.”
She nodded and pulled her blanket around her shoulders against a sudden chill.
“The labyrinth we walked was created so long ago that it has been forgotten by most of the elves. There were three stones originally.”
Springheart seemed willing to let Leafcreek tell things at his own pace, but Willowvine felt the pull to participate. “Is it like the one around the gate between worlds?”
Her question didn’t upset Leafcreek. He simply nodded and continued, “Yes. The two have a connection, and there are only two before you ask. Well, that we know of at least, it is possible there are others. In both cases the labyrinths were built to mark the importance of the center. We are the first people of Cartref. Scholars argue about whether we were here from the beginning, or if we were the first to be drawn here. No matter, we are tied to the world. Our wellbeing is dependent on something in the dirt, air, and water of Cartref.”
Her question still hung unanswered, but now Willowvine was drawn into the story and no other questions came in the pause Leafcreek gave her.
“The three stones control the way the elves thrive. At least that is what it seems. The stone we replaced is the Stone of Family. You know that, but perhaps you do not know its purpose. As long as it is in place, those with families will have children, not many but enough. The right-hand stone was called the Stone of Abundance. We once had more children, many more, but few people remember seeing it. The left-hand stone was the first to disappear.” Leafcreek paused again to take a sip of wine.
Willowvine tensed. She knew that this next part was the answer to her question. Had orphans stolen the stones? Looking at Springheart she saw he was alert and eager to hear the rest.
“That stone was called the Stone of Orphans. No one knows who took it, and there was no request for ransom or reward. Some believe Cartref took the stone back. That is why our people shun orphans. Either they believe Cartref itself has rejected you, or that you are an omen of the last stone going.”
Willowvine shivered from the chill in her blood. This was the stuff of prophecy, but knowing why didn’t help her accept the treatment. “Is there a reason that two orphans had to rescue the Stone of Family?”
Leafcreek looked surprised at the question. “That was my requirement. I hoped that your involvement would help heal the rift. I am not sure it will, but I had to try.”
Willowvine thought it was a faint hope, but it was nice to be in company with an elf who didn’t make her feel as though she was dirty.
* * *
The next morning Springheart woke feeling stronger. Willowvine was chatting to Leafcreek in the kitchen. If she had known how weak he really was from the fight, she would not have been so cooperative last night.
He stretched and then rose. Folding his blanket, he listened to the conversation. It was inconsequential, like something that would happen between a girl and her grandfather. It bought home to him how much Willowvine missed being part of that feeling. It was something she could never have.
He joined them. “We should go and arrange for a ship.”
Willowvine looked up from the soapy water and dishes. “How are we going to earn our passage and Maynard’s?”
Leafcreek turned from putting dishes away. “You do not need to earn your passage. I will pay three fares.”
Had Willowvine talked him into a reward? “The job was paid for,” Springheart said.
“Yes, but this is my gift,” Leafcreek said. “In fact, I will not give you the funds to purchase passage, I will pay for it directly. No argument.”
Springheart figured there was plenty of room for argument. But the offer meant they could take Maynard to the guild board without having to pay for their passage with backbreaking work, and he wasn’t going to turn that down. “Thank you.”
A fast breakfast, and then they were on their way. Leafcreek promised to meet them at the docks after arranging passage. Springheart and Willowvine strolled to the abandoned building where Maynard h
ad spent the night.
A goblin was stationed at the doorway. “He is still alive, but he’s not happy. Do you want me to knock him on the head?”
The goblin’s eagerness told Springheart much about how Maynard had passed the time: railing against his fate, bargaining, insulting, and generally being unpleasant. “No. We can take care of him.”
The goblin said farewell and hurried back to the village. Willowvine stooped beside Maynard and asked, “Are you going to behave?”
“If I don’t will you kill me?” Maynard didn’t sound cowed. He clearly had a plan, or thought he did.
“No,” Springheart said. “We are taking you home to face the guild. It’s up to them to punish you.”
He pulled Maynard to his feet, checked the bonds and then shoved him out to the street. Willowvine followed quietly. It worried Springheart that she wasn’t arguing, or bargaining. In his experience, when she was silent, she was plotting something.
They arrived at the docks to find Leafcreek talking to a uniformed sailor. There was no ship in sight, but the small boat moored at the dock was clearly waiting to take them to their ship. They were leaving the way Vitenkar and Maynard had arrived. It felt good to avoid the inconvenience of timing the tide.
Chapter 48
It was no surprise to Springheart that the guild board hadn’t welcomed them back joyfully.
The board preferred things to go smoothly and the complications that Maynard brought made that impossible. They had no one but themselves to blame for that. It didn’t mean they apologized. In fact, there was definitely a hint of blame in their response.
On top of it, Willowvine insisted that they were not taking any contracts until she was satisfied that Springheart was healed.
Being idle for a week allowed them to observe Maynard’s judgment. Springheart had watched Willowvine as the verdict was announced. As much as she pretended to be cynical, she’d truly believed that Maynard would be ejected from the guild. Instead he’d been demoted to the bottom of the ranks and stripped of his past successes. The punishment must have burned inside him, but he’d been given a chance to repair his reputation.
When he stalked out of the room, Maynard had turned to sneer at Willowvine, ignoring Springheart.
“I am not going to be defeated by a mere child,” Maynard had said.
Willowvine had turned away and whispered, “I can see his aura. It’s blazing with anger around a black core of fear.”
While demotion wasn’t a satisfying punishment, Springheart was sure that Maynard Slack was not going to be interfering with any contracts — least for a while.
* * *
Now they were preparing for their first contract since returning. Willowvine lounged beside him in the shadows outside a residence in Wattren, a village across the island.
“We can go in through the window,” he whispered pointing to the second floor. “The tree will give you a place to hide as well as a path up.”
“It would be more fun to try the kitchen,” she answered. “And it’s closer to the office.”
Springheart knew he would be wasting his breath to argue. She was probably joking anyway. “It’s up to you. We have at least an hour before it’s safe to try. I don’t want to wait here though. We’ll stiffen up.”
She slipped away from the shadows and followed him to a cafe. “Why are we still working for the guild?” she asked starting a well-worn discussion. “I don’t trust them to have our backs if something comes along.”
Springheart waved for the waiter to bring caf, and waited until they were served before answering. He used the time to find a new answer for her. “Maynard wanted to be part of the board. That will never happen now. The punishment was right for him.”
She chuckled. “Never is a very long time.”
He knew she was right. Maynard Slack would not give up his dream so easily. “We are still getting the higher paying contracts, but we don’t have enough money to support ourselves.”
He glanced at her and saw his mistake. She had a plan and he’d given her the opening she needed.
“Did you see what happened to Vitenkar’s business?” she asked.
Wondering how this related to her plan, Springheart waited. Vitenkar’s body had appeared a few days after they returned. Someone found a way to place it in the courtyard of the scree’s home, along with the body of his warrior. Overnight the mercenaries disappeared. One of his lieutenants was managing the business, ostensibly until family was found to take over. There didn’t seem to be much of a search going on.
“I guess we’re safe from retribution from them, at least,” she said.
What was stopping Willowvine from just telling him her plan? Had she suddenly learned caution? “Whoever delivered the bodies made it look like they killed each other, so yes, we won’t be facing a blood revenge.”
Willowvine took in a deep breath then sat forward. “I think we should go find the other stones.” The words came out a rush and now she held her breath waiting for him to respond.
It had been on his mind since Leafcreek told them the history. “How will we fund this search?” That was the first of a series of questions he’d been trying to answer and he hoped her plan would settle it.
“I think Leafcreek would help,” she said eyes shining with hope. “And maybe there are other elves like him.”
Springheart wasn’t sure it would work, but there were few other options since the blood oath might prevent them from asking questions of anyone else. He would visit Devissial when they returned to have him release them from the oath. “Where would we start looking?”
A grin lit her face. She knew that he was agreeing, at least in principle. “I don’t know. But we can worry about that if we get support. Maybe we’ll be able to find someone to help, maybe Leafcreek has a clue? Maybe we can get Zerenia to give us a vision.”
It was going to happen. He knew that as soon as he saw the empty spaces at the center of the labyrinth. “We need to get this job done before we even start planning.”
He tossed a few coins on the table and started walking to the house they needed to burgle so that they could start on their new job.
Saving the elves — again.
Coming Soon
If you enjoyed this book, you might enjoy the next book in the series. The Elven Stones: Abundance will be out soon.
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Also by P. A. Wilson
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MYSTERIES
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SCIENCE FICTION
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URBAN FANTASY
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FANTASY
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ROMANCE
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NON-FICTION
About the Author
Perry Wilson is a Canadian author based in Vancouver, BC who has big ideas and an itch to tell stories. Having spent some time on university, a career, and life in general, she returned to writing in 2008 and hasn't looked back since (well, maybe a little, but only while parallel parking).
She is a member of the Vancouver Writers Social Group, The Royal City Literary Arts Society, and The Surrey Writing Workshop. Perry has self-published several novels. She writes the Madeline Journeys, a fantasy series about a high-powered lawyer who finds herself trapped in a magical world, the Quinn Larson Qu
ests, which follows the adventures of a wizard named Quinn who must contend with volatile fae in the heart of Vancouver, and the Charity Deacon Investigations, a mystery thriller series about a private eye who tends to fall into serious trouble with her cases, and The Riverton Romances, a series based in a small town in Oregon, one of her favorite states. Her stand-alone novels are Breaking the Bonds, Closing the Circle, and The Dragon at The Edge of The Map.
For more information
www.pawilson.ca
[email protected]
Acknowledgments
People think that the process of writing is solitary. That’s not the case for me. I have help from so many people it would be hard to acknowledge everyone, but I’ll give it a try.
The support and inspiration I get from my writer’s groups is incalculable. The Vancouver Writers Social Group opens my mind to other ways of telling a story. The Royal City Literary Arts Society gives me the opportunity to meet and share with other writers who have more knowledge than I do. The Other 11 Months group is where I learn about getting the words on the page. And my critique group who helps me find the best parts of the story I want to tell. Thanks to all of the members of these great groups.
Last of all, but definitely a huge part of the process, my beta readers. These are the people who love stories and are willing, and more than able, to tell me if my finished story is ready for you, my readers.
