She continued to sweep her mind over the place, but hundreds of years of nature had swallowed up and eased away nearly any evidence of what the place had once been. There was little of it left, certainly not enough to provide any meaningful information… But there was something else out of place. Her stony fingers crackled against a thin layer of glossy black stone, hidden a fair distance beneath the surface. She scooped up a fragment of it. It was glassy and smooth, entirely unlike any of the other stone. This sort of rock didn’t belong here. It took the heat of a forge to produce stone like this. A cooking fire, even a forest fire, couldn’t leave a fragment this size behind, let alone what appeared to be an inch-thick layer. That sort of quantity was the work of fiery mountains. Something had come to this place and baked the earth to a molten state. Even she would have to expend a great deal of her strength to manage such a feat.
Something truly terrible had happened here…
Chapter 10
Nehri paced about in her hut, eyes flicking back and forth between the sky and the crystal she’d taken from the shrine that morning. Reyce was late. Days late. Again. She was not concerned about his safety. No one in the village was better able to take care of himself in the dangerous world beyond Den’s borders. But every moment he spent with Boviss was trouble. The dragon had been indispensable throughout their history, it was true. He had yet to betray his loyalty—or at least his servitude—to the malthropes, but the hatred boiling beneath the surface was unmistakable. His words dripped with manipulation. Nehri worried Reyce might bend to his whims. She worried he already had.
A curious sound outside briefly tugged her from her concerns. It was a lilting melody played upon a flute. The pleasant tune floated softly through the village. There was nothing strange about that. Many of the children liked to fashion and play flutes from the reeds by the river. But she’d never heard this melody before, and it was being played so beautifully. She stepped from her hut and looked toward the source. A small collection of children had gathered around the door to the hut where Ivy was being kept. Some danced and capered about to the complex melody. Others simply sat and watched as Ivy crouched in the doorway of her hut, merrily playing the flute.
As Nehri approached, Ivy’s eyes drifted to her and she quickly took the flute from her mouth and pushed it into the hands of the nearest child, gently whispering and pointing. The children turned and, upon seeing Nehri, scattered. Nehri took two long strides and caught the flute-bearing child by the arm, then held out her hand. The child sheepishly offered up the flute before scampering off.
“Please don’t be angry with them,” Ivy said as Nehri approached the hut. “They were curious. And when I saw one of them had a flute, I may have coaxed him into letting me try it. It was my fault.”
“There are worse things than sharing an instrument or a song,” Nehri said.
She glanced behind her as the children slowly edged closer to the hut. Technically, Ivy was a prisoner. It was made clear to the others in the village that she was not to move about freely until further notice, and those normally charged with patrolling the edge of Den instead kept an eye on her hut. But Ivy had yet to attempt to leave, or in any way disobey or misbehave. This, coupled with the fact that they’d never truly had need for a prison or to hold prisoners, left the villagers somewhat uncertain of how to deal with Ivy’s current status.
“I’m not accustomed to my own people running when they see me,” Nehri said, looking to the child she’d taken the flute from.
“I’m a bad influence, I guess,” Ivy said. “I couldn’t help it. It’s getting awfully lonely in here, and it’s been so long since I’ve properly played a flute. The ones back home just don’t work for malthropes. They’re made for a different sort of mouth. I’d given up on them. But these work perfectly.”
“Of course they do,” Nehri said, admiring the crude but adequate flute the child had fashioned. “We’ve made this place for ourselves. This is the one place were things work as they should for us. Which is why it is so important your friends and those they work for not be allowed to disrupt it. If Den falls, then there will be nowhere left for us.”
“Den can survive without making enemies of my friends, Nehri.”
Nehri considered the flute for a moment. “Perhaps it is time we discussed it. I have ruminated upon the mark you bear. It does seem that only those faithful to the D’Karon teachings are injured by it. I have tested it both against Boviss and, with great care, against a child who had not yet pledged her faith. There is no doubt in my mind that its power is directed wholly against those enemies of the D’Karon. But I refuse to believe that this is evidence that the D’Karon are evil. Their teachings and protection have done too much for us for me to believe that. Neither do I believe that this mark labels you as our enemy. Though it is possible your behavior may be a ruse, my heart and mind tell me that your intentions are good, however misguided and ill-informed they may be. But that does not change the fact that your friends have not been turned away. I have received a message that they have reached Old Den. And since then, they have been moving slowly but steadily in our direction. They, therefore, represent a terrible threat to Den and its future. They must be stopped… And I believe I am willing to face them personally if that is what it takes.”
“Yes! Please do! Just promise me you will approach them in peace. I assure you they will do the same.… Except maybe Ether. Be careful of Ether. But for Myranda and the others, you just have to meet them. Show them who you are! Let them talk to you. I’m sure you’ll see that they don’t mean you any harm.”
“My hopes are low. But if there is one chance in a thousand that my words and actions may keep them from coming here, then it is worth the risk. I will leave immediately. There may not be much time left.”
“Wait! Do you have paper? Anything to write or paint on? And something to write or paint with?”
“I’m sure someone can find something for you, but—”
“I need to send it with you,” Ivy said. “If they know I’m alive, that I vouch for you, then they’ll be sure to listen.”
Nehri called through the doorway. Notta approached. After a short exchange, the other vixen hurried off. She returned in short order with some rough sheets of parchment and a dense bit of charcoal.
Ivy snatched them eagerly and went to work.
“Quickly,” Nehri said.
“I’ll be quick as a flash,” Ivy said, glancing in Nehri’s direction and tracing out a few basic shapes. “And when I’m through, there will be no doubt in their mind that I’m alive and well…”
#
Nehri squeezed her gem tightly and let its strength flow into her. She scolded herself for using one of the precious charged gems for this purpose. How many times had she given Reyce an earful for using a gem he didn’t need to? But the outsiders, the friends of Ivy, had come so far in such little time. If she trusted her own endurance, they might be too near Den for her to hope to turn them away. It was for the best. The D’Karon magic pushed away the fatigue. It sped her movements and wiped away any trace of her travel. Under its influence, she was swifter than any horse and didn’t so much as cast a shadow or raise a cloud of dust in her wake.
Sprinting in such a way gave her little chance to put her sharp eyes or sensitive nose to work to attempt to locate the outsiders, but it seemed they had no interest in avoiding detection. As she’d suspected, they were moving in a perfectly straight line from where they’d last been spotted. The whole party had mounted their dragons and flew slowly and low to the ground. The green dragon was fearsome and armored, smaller by far than Boviss, but with his thick scales augmented with iron. The red dragon was a similar size, and though unequipped, she carried two wizards, each with gems burning bright. The color of their magic was different, an eerie white-blue rather than the deep violet of the D’Karon workings. She felt a flutter of revulsion that they would flaunt something other than D’Karon magic in North Crescent, but she forced those thoughts away. If sh
e were to have a chance at getting them to listen to reason, she mustn’t approach them with anger or hate in her heart. She was a priestess. It was her purpose to right those who had gone wrong, to lead them in the proper direction. You cannot take someone by the hand if you first clench your fists.
She slid to a stop and took a breath. If they were the trackers she knew them to be, she wouldn’t need to do much to get their attention. Sure enough, she’d only just begun to ease the enchantment concealing her when the heads of both dragons shifted in her direction. They angled their wings and dove toward her with a nimbleness and agility she had never seen Boviss demonstrate.
Nehri steeled herself and allowed her many protections to drop away. As soon as the gem’s commands were gone, it hungrily drew upon her soul, but she warded herself from its hunger and set the gem at her feet. It might be the last mistake she would make, but she was determined to face these people with empty hands and an open mind.
The dragons landed on either side of her, eyes intense and teeth bared. Their riders hopped down, weapons held defensively. Two wizards, a male and a female, and a male warrior. All human, or at least as she’d imagined humans must be. This was the first she had personally seen of their kind.
To have them look upon her, to have them see her, made Nehri feel like an insect suddenly cast into the light. She wanted to snatch the gem again, to hide away as she always had. But the time for that was past. She held her head high and waited.
The warrior had the wary look of a man ready to strike her down in a heartbeat. The green dragon seemed stoic and measured. But the others… they behaved in a way that she hadn’t anticipated. They were cautious, yes. Their defenses were high, but the female in particular seemed to have a look of wonder tempering her expression.
“You are a malthrope…” Myranda said. “I almost didn’t believe it could be so.”
Deacon looked to the gem at her feet. “And she indeed makes use of D’Karon magic.”
“At this moment, I do not. And I am assured by your friend Ivy that you are reasonable, that if I do not act, neither shall you.”
“Where is Ivy?” Myranda said, her expression and tone sharp.
“She is safe. If you will permit me, she provided me with a message for you,” Nehri said.
“Slowly,” Grustim warned.
Nehri slipped her fingers into her robes and produced the parchment. Myranda stepped forward to accept it. The “message” Ivy had composed was a simple but exquisite sketch of Nehri herself. There were only two words beneath it. Trust her. She hadn’t left anything resembling a signature or other mark to identify herself, but Myranda and Deacon both nodded after a single glance.
“No mistaking her style,” Myranda said.
Myn stepped forward and glared at Nehri. She held her ground. The dragon took a deep whiff, then plopped down on her haunches and locked her eyes on the priestess. It didn’t feel like an act of intimidation or threat, but it was a loud and clear statement of her distrust and disapproval. If the dragon’s opinion was any indication, this was going to be an uphill struggle. A pair of fairies between the dragon’s horns buzzed down and orbited Nehri, joyful to have found another malthrope.
“So many friends of fairies in North Crescent!” Shah trilled.
“I imagine we both have a great many questions.” Myranda stepped back and loosened a strap holding a bundle of firewood that Myn had been carrying. “I am Myranda. This is Deacon. That’s Myn, and those are Grustim and Garr.”
The fairies took it upon themselves to do their own introductions.
“I am Shah!”
“And I am Freet!”
“I imagine we will very shortly be joined by Ether,” Myranda said, concluding the introductions.
Nehri took a half step backward. “I was warned about Ether.”
Myranda smiled. “Probably wise on Ivy’s part. We will be sure she behaves. And your name?”
“… Nehri. High Priestess of Den.”
“Are you hungry? In my observation, meetings like this are better held around a warm fire and a hot meal.”
“I would prefer to keep it brief,” Nehri said. “You are outsiders, and you are not welcome in North Crescent. I respectfully ask that you leave this place, and leave Ivy with us where she belongs. To do otherwise can only end in sorrow for you.”
“I am afraid it won’t be as simple as that,” Myranda said. “If you want our cooperation, you’ll need to give us more than orders. We shall need answers, and assurances. Are your people the Aluall?”
“That is the name the elves have chosen to apply. As it kept them at bay, and wary of us, we saw no need to correct it.”
“And did your people attack the villages near the isthmus?”
Nehri stared at Myranda evenly, but did not answer.
“I already know it was your people who were spying on us. And who nearly killed Myn.”
“You are unwelcome in this land. Your presence here invites war,” Nehri said. “You pursued our ‘spy.’ It was not my decision to send a wasp to aid him, but clearly that choice was a wise one. They were within their rights to defend themselves.”
“I know a thing or two about war, Nehri. I’ve had my fill of it. And the greatest friend of war is silence. Your people attacked those villages. A watchman was killed. Not a word of warning was offered until after the attack. And nothing else until this moment.”
“Look at me, Myranda. What elf would have listened to any words uttered by a creature such as I?”
Myranda lowered her eyes and shook her head woefully.
“There is truth to that, perhaps.” She looked up. “But it does not change what has been done.”
“Yes. Our people retook the land from the elves. And we spilled blood, but far less than they would have spilled of ours, and only what was absolutely necessary. If the elves could be trusted to remain south of the isthmus, no more lives would need to be lost.”
Myranda arranged the wood into an orderly pile on the ground before them. Myn twisted her head just enough to huff a breath of flame upon the wood without taking her eyes off Nehri.
“You have the ears of someone who will listen now, Nehri,” Myranda said, fetching some provisions and taking a seat on the ground. “Are you certain you don’t want something to eat?”
Deacon took a seat beside Myranda. Myn shuffled aside to provide shade. The fairies buzzed in slow circles around Nehri, observing her with the same wonder and excitement they’d offered Ivy, though with a degree more caution. That caution visibly grew as they simultaneously glanced aside. The source of their concern became apparent as grass and brush around them fluttered in an ever-increasing unnatural breeze. A whistling form of raw, chaotic wind dropped from the sky and shifted to flesh and blood before Nehri’s eyes. A fourth human, this one with the distrustful, vicious gaze she would have expected, now joined the others.
“A malthrope? So it is true.” Ether’s eyes drifted to the gem at Nehri’s feet, and a new fury flashed through them. “And a user of D’Karon magic!”
“Calm down, Ether,” Myranda said. “She was about to explain herself.”
“If she must speak, let her speak of the elven settlement to the southwest,” Ether said.
“The what?” Myranda said.
“I found evidence of elven magic twisting the trees near the coast, but seemingly abandoned some time ago. It, along with an apparent clash with dwarfs that the elves memorialized but seemed unwilling to acknowledge, represents the entirety of the fruits of my investigations.”
“We know of the trees you speak of,” Nehri said. “But if there were ever elves there, it was before our time here.”
“Then tell us what you can. What you do know,” Myranda said.
Nehri crossed her arms. “What needed to be said has been said. This is not your fight, and it is not elven land. Leave this place.”
“I won’t go anywhere until I hear Ivy speak with her own lips a desire to stay. And if I am to find some way
to keep the elves from demanding vengeance for your attacks, I am going to need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your people can be trusted not to squander my efforts with another attack. Perhaps most pressing of all—I’ll need to know about the D’Karon.”
Nehri stood in silence, enduring the continued gaze of the dragon and the shapeshifter.
“Nehri,” Myranda continued, “the last thing I want is to see harm come to your people. Ivy is one of my dearest friends and closest allies. I personally, and the world in general, owe a debt to another malthrope, Lain, that may never be repaid. It makes my heart sing to know that they aren’t the last of their kind, and it makes it all the more important that we learn how to avert further war, and how to protect you from being destroyed by the D’Karon.”
“The D’Karon are our saviors, not our destroyers!” Nehri asserted.
“Then tell me how. Explain to me how you came to be, and why you believe they would defend you.”
Nehri recoiled at having to defend her faith, to prove to these interlopers that the patrons of her people did not mean them harm. She drew in a breath to voice her outrage, but as she did, she detected something in the air. A scent she hadn’t noticed before. She looked upon Myranda with a measuring stare, then slowly took a seat. If nothing else, the moments spent here delayed further battle or danger to her people. And if a woman in Myranda’s condition could find it in herself to come to this dangerous land and speak with someone who by all rights and evidence was her enemy, then perhaps she was owed an explanation.
Myranda offered a bit of meat. Nehri sniffed it and detected no poison, nor did she sense any dark enchantment about it.
“It began as a battle between two tribes…” she began, for the second time in as many weeks beginning the tale of her people.
#
“… And so it continues to this day,” Nehri finished.
She’d told the story with care, making certain not to hint at just how near Den truly was, or the specific nature of the enchantments that protected it. Myranda listened intently, and Deacon feverishly recorded her words in his book.
The Crescents Page 23
