Reyce turned to Ivy. A weak stir of blue swirled around her, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“There, Ivy. That is power. And there is more where that came from. I can protect my people. I will protect my people.”
Ivy looked around, then looked Reyce in the eyes. “You’re right, Reyce. I hadn’t seen the power you have. But I have seen what it looks like when a village feels safe. Have you?”
Reyce scanned the village. The commotion had stirred several residents from their beds. They had their eyes locked upon the edge of town, where the dragon was lurking. There were terrified.
Ivy turned her back on him and marched back to her hut without being dismissed. Reyce burned with anger. He stomped back to Boviss. Nehri was still at the dragon’s feet, but there was fury in her eyes.
“What is wrong with you!” she snapped.
“I had to demonstrate our ability to defend our home.” His voice had the tremble of fading anger, and the flicker of regret.
“And to do so, you risk burning it to the ground and send up a flare in the night for any to see?”
“The enchantments will keep us hidden.”
“They likely will, but that is no reason to push their limits. We are already leaching away far more power than we ever have to ready for your assault. Every extra crystal we drain in hiding this village is one that will need to be filled from the souls of our people and the life of our land.”
Reyce took a breath. “Yes. It was unwise. I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize, Reyce,” she said, her anger beginning to ebb. “Just think. Please. You are better than this. This isn’t you. You have been away from your people for too long. First watching the elven city, then seeking and fetching Boviss again and again. You are tired, and your people miss you.”
He looked away. “My task is not through. Boviss must feed. He must be returned to his lair. Further plans must be made for those who seek Ivy. Now is a moment of reckoning for our people. I can rest when our plans are through. A sated gem, please.”
Nehri handed him the gem she was holding. Reyce climbed to Boviss’s back. The chain affixed to the massive beast’s neck had a small hollow, sized for the gem. He slipped it in place, touched the surface, and unleashed a D’Karon spell. A violet and black mist rushed from the gem and coiled about both Reyce and Boviss. He shuddered at the cold, eerie sensation of the enchantment taking effect. When the mist had entirely enshrouded them, they faded from view. Reyce blinked away the stinging in his eyes. He was briefly without his vision, but it returned in a shifting, ghostly form. The enchantment ran its course and nothing remained to suggest there had ever been a malthrope or a dragon.
Boviss unfurled his unseen wings and took to the sky, a breath of wind offering the only evidence of his movement. Even the deep footprints and claw marks he’d left behind shifted and slid until there was naught but level ground.
Reyce watched the village under his protection slip away beneath him. When they had risen to twice the height of the shrine, the flickering lanterns and cozy huts vanished as well. To even the most carefully trained gaze, the sprawling grounds of Den looked to be nothing more than a lush stretch of wilderness.
Boviss pitched aside and drifted south.
“We shall do our hunting to the north,” Reyce said.
“The better prey lies south,” Boviss rumbled.
“Yes. And that prey must feed my people. You shall feed to the north.”
“Of course,” There was the tremor of irritation in the dragon’s voice. “Your newcomer. She is powerful.”
“You haven’t met our newcomer.”
“My kind sees more than what our eyes may show. I sensed when you had only just signaled for me to land.”
“Impossible. That is beyond the veil that conceals our village.”
“Yes. And others seek her. The other dragons. The humans.”
“The rest of her party. As I have said. Two of the humans are wizards.”
“They shall find her. Den shall fall.”
“They shall not. We shall stop them.”
“No. If they are wise, and wizards are wise, then they shall find her. Den shall fall.”
“We will kill them before that. The dragons are no match for you.”
“A single dragon. A single wizard. Perhaps. I can crush any who face me. But a pair. I cannot crush both. Not if they do not face me as one. And they shall not. They shall attack from two sides. Their flames will claim your homes. Their claws will trample your people. Their magic will unravel your protections. Den will fall.”
“Enough! Den will not fall.”
“You lack the fortitude to protect your people.”
“I will do anything to protect my people!”
“Then you finish what you have started. Now. Before they reach Den. You must begin the attack. The dragons and wizards are agents of the elves. When the attack begins, they will turn back. And in the face of the attack, they will succumb. But it must begin now. If they draw too near, it will be too late.”
“We do not even know if the attack will be necessary. Perhaps if we defeat these agents, as you and your kind defeated them in the ancient past, then they will honor the isthmus once more and we shall be safe.”
“Then you forfeit the lives of your people.”
“The attack is not ready! We have many more crystals to fill.”
Boviss was silent for a time. When he spoke again, it was with a far more sinister edge. “The newcomer is very powerful.”
Reyce considered his words. He gripped the chain about the dragon’s neck and tightened his jaw. Finally, the chieftain shut his eyes tightly and hung his head low. “May the D’Karon forgive me for the things fate demands… To the southern hunting grounds. Eat your fill. Restore your strength. Then take me to Ironcore Mountain. Preparations must be made…”
#
Myn thumped along, her plodding pace slow and her breathing heavy. She was recovering well, but it was clear she had not yet been fully restored to her strength. Nevertheless, what she lacked in speed she made up for in determination. As the sun rose, they had covered the narrow strip of desert separating them from the near edge of the northeastern forest. Myranda swatted at the buzzing of insects as they traveled deeper into the muggy heart of the woods.
The dragon’s paw caught a loose bit of soil, and she nearly toppled over, but Garr leaned aside to support her with a well-placed leg and a curve of his neck. The male dragon had not allowed himself to be more than a half step away from Myn since she’d awoken, except for brief trips to catch food enough for himself, the others, and especially Myn. While they walked, Garr spent as much time watching her as the path ahead, mindful of any sign of weakness or discomfort. If the circumstances had not been so dire, it would have been almost adorable to see the concern and affection simmering just below his hard, military exterior.
“That’s enough, Myn,” Myranda said, hopping down from the dragon’s back once she had steadied herself. “Come here.”
The dragon lowered her head to be level with that of the human.
Myranda looked her in the eye and spoke with all the authority of a mother to her child. “You need rest, and you certainly shouldn’t be carrying Deacon and I upon your back. You’ve made your point, you’re the strongest and most dutiful dragon anyone could hope to know. But now that we’ve reached the forest, we must move slowly anyway.”
“I very much agree,” Deacon said, stepping down onto the lush undergrowth of the woods. “Fairies have a way of hiding themselves in the most cunning of ways. Better to be slow, and to take this time to tend to your condition. Even with Shah and Freet to guide us, it will be no small task to find them.”
The two fairies were nestled among Myn’s horns. Shah, exhausted from her astonishingly fast trip to and from the capital, was sound asleep.
Myn huffed a breath at Myranda, then looped her tail around Deacon to return him to her back. With him in place, she leaned low, offering her back
to Myranda as well.
“Fine. But at least take it easy,” Myranda said, climbing back into position.
Garr rumbled something. Grustim uttered a gruff reply.
“Is something wrong?”
“He wants to hunt. He’s caught the scent of new prey.”
Myranda grinned. “He’s hunted three times. Myn’s never eaten so well.”
Grustim nodded. “Fresh meat, new prey, and Myn’s strength and favor are difficult for him to ignore.” He indicated a bush with familiar thorns. “But the fairies may be near.”
“They are,” Freet said. “I can feel the same wind as I felt from the bad fairy’s wings.”
Myranda took her staff in hand. Deacon fetched his crystal.
“And the poison?” she asked.
Garr raised his snout and sampled the air.
“Nothing,” Grustim said. “Yet…”
“At least there is that mercy,” Deacon said. “It would have been helpful if Ether had come directly to us instead of pursuing her own search, as her unique talents would be extremely useful in this situation. There are many small points of magic about. Weak. Difficult to pinpoint. And moving quite quickly.”
They cast their eyes upward, toward the canopy. The leaves of the trees here were broad and waxy, the air heavy and humid. Insects larger than any Myranda had seen in the Northern Alliance or Tressor crawled and fluttered about. But from out of the corner of her eye, Myranda was certain some of the things that appeared to be dragonflies had the hint of a human form.
“They are all around us,” Myranda said.
Garr tensed and dug his claws into the soil.
“Perhaps we can open a dialogue,” Deacon suggested.
“Will the spell you cast for us to speak to Shah and Freet work for these fairies?” Myranda asked.
“Only if they speak the same dialect. To my knowledge, fairies all speak similar languages, but the dialects can vary widely. As the fairies of Entwell likely came via the Northern Alliance, and thus via Tressor, and in turn via trade from South Crescent, it stands to reason that all of their languages would be similar…”
“Deacon, I think we may not need to speculate much longer,” Myranda interrupted.
The wind around them was rising, moving with a clear will. It was different from the wind Myranda had conjured to reveal the spy in the desert. That wind had been focused, direct. This was much more turbulent and chaotic. It wasn’t the result of a single mind. This was the work of many working together, but not in perfect harmony. That made it weaker than it might have been, but also rendered it nearly impossible to counter with her own magic, like trying to catch a handful of sand instead of a single stone.
“No fire, Myn,” Myranda called. “I don’t want to hurt them, and even if you are careful, this wind will make it difficult to control.”
Freet roused Shah and they both flitted up, trilling in a language different enough to escape the effects of Deacon’s enchantment. A few of the darting forms of the fairies came close, then one of them snatched Shah and pulled her into the intensifying wind. Freet cried out and pursued. Myranda could just make out Shah’s struggling form pulled into a thorn bush at the edge of the clearing. Freet charged in after them.
“We should spread out,” Grustim called, his eyes scanning his surroundings with swift efficiency. “Better to split their focus.”
“Indeed,” Deacon replied. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the growing wail. “And if they work together, they may be able to blow down one of these trees. We don’t want to present a single target.”
Garr rumbled.
“Garr still does not smell any of the poison.”
“That is a relief,” Myranda said.
The current of both wind and magic was growing ever stronger, each fairy now faintly visible as a dim streamer of light.
“They do not glow very brightly at all,” Deacon said. “It implies they are mystically weak. Among the weakest I’ve ever felt from a fairy.”
Dust, soil, and leaves were beginning to fill the air, along with more than a few small branches and stones. Garr unfurled his wings and lowered them to deflect the debris from Grustim. Myn imitated for Myranda and Deacon.
“They seem powerful enough to me,” Grustim said.
“I believe it means there are a lot of them,” Myranda said.
The wind and ribbons of light wove in more interesting shapes, fairies lining up into strings of a dozen or more. They darted toward Deacon, then curved upward at the last moment. A stuttering patter joined the wailing of wind, and a sequence of dusty bursts worked their way along the ground in front of him. He conjured a shield just in time to see a line of thorns clash against the mystic barrier. Lines traced across the ground toward Myranda and Grustim.
“Impressive coordination,” Deacon said.
Grustim raised an arm to shield his face. The thorns peppered his armor, but did little more than scratch it.
“Deal with these creatures before they find a way to become more than a nuisance!” Grustim demanded.
Something long and brown whizzed toward Grustim. He swung his sword, but the shape darted down and swept at his ankles. He cried out in pain as it was revealed to be a thorn vine stretched between a pair of fairies. They whirled around his legs. There were few gaps in his armor, but thorns found their way into every one.
Deacon’s and Myranda’s shields were sparkling with constant impacts from thrown thorns. The dragons, notably, were spared the attacks. Garr took full advantage, stepping over Grustim and surrounding him to protect him. Myn stood behind Myranda and Deacon, shielding them from behind so they could focus on a single direction.
“Wind magic will be of little use to us,” Deacon called. “I believe levitation will be our best chance at sparing them injury.”
“I care not if you spare them injury. Just end this!” Grustim growled, unaccustomed to being in a position of weakness, particularly in the face of so diminutive a threat.
Deacon held up a hand. One of the blurred forms came to a sudden and complete halt. It was a female, and she was different from any fairy they had ever seen. A bundle of thorns hung at her waist. She was wrapped head to toe in thorn vine, the barbs strategically angled outward. Myranda raised her staff and wrapped her will about a fairy as well, then another, and another.
One by one, they split their focus to hold more of the little creatures. They soon numbered in the dozens, struggling in place and terribly taxing the capacity of the wizards. When a unique fairy was locked in place, however, the gale ceased in an instant. The darting forms hung in the air, eyes turned to Myranda and Deacon, their faces looking shocked and concerned. Finally, Myranda realized that the final fairy she’d captured was a male. His tiny form was bristling with thorns even more than the rest of the fairies, and chips of amber and other glittering stones suggested he had a position of importance.
After the initial disbelief wore off, the air filled with angry trilling.
“I am afraid I don’t understand their words,” Deacon said. “Formulating a translation enchantment requires a good deal more time and concentration than I can spare at present.”
“Don’t! Wait!” called Shah.
She and Freet burst from the bushes, none the worse for wear but quite frazzled.
Freet’s voice warbled between half-understood syllables and completely unfamiliar fairy-talk. Slowly, the fairies surrounding him turned and paid attention. His speech slid entirely to the same trilling as the other fairies. When he was through, they fluttered to high perches among the trees, watched, and waited.
“You’ve got to release their war chief,” Shah said quickly. “They’ve agreed to stop their attack, but only if you release their war chief.”
There was no question which of the fairies she meant. She and Deacon released the fairies held in place by their will, leaving the war chief for last. When he was released, he drifted up and took a place on a nearby branch. A phalanx of other fairies joined
him, thorns at the ready. He uttered a few rolling whistles. The rest of the fairies reluctantly assumed less hostile postures.
Grustim unleashed a quiet torrent of Tresson profanities as he climbed to his feet. Garr fixed a small cluster of fairies in his gaze. The dragon’s burning anger was enough to make even the fearless fairies squirm a bit.
“Everyone be calm. Freet’s able to make himself understood.”
There was a short exchange between Freet and those fairies nearest to him. Shah acted as a go-between so that Freet could keep his attention on the temporarily pacified fairies, lest their calm demeanor come to a sudden end.
“They want you to leave immediately,” Shah said.
“Tell them we just need to ask them some questions,” Myranda said.
“They say they are forbidden from dealing with any but the Children of… some word he doesn’t know.”
“Who are these Children?”
Shah listened intently as Freet and the others spoke, with the thorn fairies becoming progressively more agitated.
“They don’t know how we don’t know who the Children of Whatever are. They say they are simply the Children of Whatever. And they want you to leave, because the longer you stay, the more angry the Children of Whatever may be with them.”
“Tell them we just need to know anything they may know about the Aluall.”
“They don’t know that word. They say they don’t know anyone like that.”
“Ask them if they know of creatures who are able to make themselves invisible.”
“… They say the Children of Whatever can do that.”
“I can’t imagine there are an abundance of creatures with that ability here,” Deacon said.
“So it would seem,” Myranda said. “Shah, Freet, please ask where we can find the Children.”
The fairies trilled for a bit. The answer came almost as a chorus, all of the fairies angrily buzzing and shouting.
“They can’t say. They say their alliance is very old, and they dare not threaten it.”
Grustim tugged a stubborn thorn from a joint of his armor. “Tell them their alliance has caused them to assault us, and we demand retribution. We know that a fairy, similarly armed but far more deadly, was in service of the Aluall and that we hold them personally responsible.”
The Crescents Page 20
