“But it could have…it could still happen. And it happened to Candace.” I felt tears well up in my eyes. “She’s hurting, Treth. One of the most important people in my life, and there’s nothing I can do for her.”
“She doesn’t need you to cure her, Kat.” I felt Treth’s hand touch my back. Despite being a ghost, his hand was warm. “Just be there for her.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough.”
“Sometimes, it has to be. We can’t change someone. And we can’t fix them. We can only be there for them. To remind them there’s something worth fighting for. Candace can change. She has. I’ve seen it. And I will admit I was wrong. There’s good inside of her, Kat. But she has to let it win herself.”
Tears fell silently onto my lap. The forest was quiet. Too quiet. I missed the sound of traffic. The city in the distance. My city.
“Talk to her,” Treth whispered.
“Candace?”
Treth shook his head.
“To your aunt. She loves you. Even I can see that much.”
“I love her too. It’s just that…”
She’s not what I need.
“Talk to her,” Treth insisted.
I stood, slowly. Treth was right. And it had been too long
Treth trailed me as I navigated the winding elvish halls. With help from some servants, I was pointed in the right direction. Mandy had been residing here for a long time. Longer than I had lived with Cindy. This was her home now. That thought saddened me. Even if Mandy had never been at home in Hope City, it was my home.
I stopped outside Mandy’s door and raised my hand to knock. Hesitated. Treth manifested beside me and knocked for me. I glared at him as he gave me mischievous grin and disappeared.
“Is it six already?!” Mandy exclaimed hurriedly, then started blurting out some elvish. It didn’t hold the powerful charge of Sintari incantation that mages had, or the whimsical beauty of Allandrea’s speech. It sounded more human.
“Mandy…it’s me. Kat.”
The door opened, revealing a dishevelled Mandy. Her hair was a mess, with her fringe pushed upward as if she had slept sitting upright, her hand resting on her forehead. She smiled.
“Kat! Come in, come in! Please don’t mind the mess. Allandrea says I should clean up but there’s always something new to study.”
Mandy stepped aside, allowing me to enter.
Mandy’s room was large. Practically an apartment. And it was covered with artefacts, elvish clothes, weapons, and piles and piles of papers. I was surprised that there weren’t half-eaten meals lying about. But the elf servants would have seen to that, at least.
Mandy closed the door behind me and tip-toed effortlessly across the messy floors towards a desk. I was surprised to see a very mundane and normal computer setup flanked by a pile of notepads and a bronze elvish style conical helmet.
Mandy sat down at the computer, leaving me stranded in the ocean of clutter.
“Tell her the truth. Connect with her,” Treth insisted.
Right now, I’d rather be facing a horde of zombies. It was far easier than talking to family.
“Mandy…” I started but was cut off as she spun on her chair holding up three little banners in her hands.
“Pick one,” she said, excitedly.
“Excuse me?”
“Pick one of them. It’s an experiment.”
Of course! I went further into the room, jumping over piles of notes and an elf sword that was way too pointy to just be lying about.
Closer to my aunt, I could see the banners more clearly. Red, Blue and Green. The red banner bore an image of a curved blade, resonating with a sort of primal energy. The blue held a star. The silver star of Sintar. And the green held the image of a tree, with its roots going deep into the earth.
My fingers instinctively reached out to choose the red banner, but I stopped. It was the same symbolism that Lianthorn and Ari wore. Why was that? And why did I feel drawn to it?
I looked at the other banners. They were beautiful. Embroidered elven silk. But, while I admired them, they didn’t connect with me. Not like the red banner did.
But what would my choice mean?
Hesitating for a second longer, I pointed towards the red banner.
Mandy examined it and frowned.
“Interesting…” she turned to write down some notes on her computer. “Well, it has been a while…”
“Um…what are they?” I finally asked, looking for a seat and not finding one. I remained standing.
Mandy turned towards me, grinning.
“They are the emblems of the elvish courts. War, Star and Earth. There are others on Sintar, but these are the courts of New Sintar.”
I remained silent. What else had I expected to happen? Well, it couldn’t hurt too much to entertain her interests. And I was interested.
“What are the courts?” I asked. Mandy’s eyes practically sparkled in response.
“Now that’s the question! I’ve tried asking the elves, but they find the query odd. From the outside, the courts look like political factions. Parties. But they aren’t chosen. You’re born into a court. So, they’re more like clans. But, then again, they do have ideologies. Perhaps, like castes. I don’t think the elves can explain the courts to us because we aren’t elves. They’re something essential to their way of life. A family beyond blood, if you will. And a bloodline that determines what you believe.”
So, Ari and Lianthorn were War Court. They were soldiers, so that made sense. But Ari and Lianthorn seemed so different…
I doubted that the courts could truly determine what a person believed. Humans weren’t born with preconceived notions about the world. And people could change. And elves were people.
“I didn’t think you’d resonate with the War Court, Kats. They are a complicated faction. Honourable, and seemingly violent. Straightforward. Blunt. Not subtle like the Star or compromising like the Earth. But, I should have guessed that you would resonate with them. Being a hunter and all…”
It could have been my imagination, but there was a hint of regret in her tone.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to worry you…”
“It’s fine. Really! I would have been worried. You’re right. But, apparently, you’re now a hero.”
“How do you know that? There’s no news coming into the island.”
“I heard some news from the Star Court’s occasional agents, but Pranish told me the rest. He’s a good friend. I’m glad you are all still together.”
I couldn’t help but smile, just a bit. My life had been a hard one. But I had friends. And they meant the world to me.
Before I could say anything, Mandy was looking back at her computer, typing away.
I leaned forward as she typed. The text on the screen was a combination of Sintari and English. It was filled with enough jargon to make my head hurt, and it drew my eyes away from the screen and onto my aunt.
Her brow was creased in concentration as she typed. Her eyes reflected the glowing screen. She paid me no mind. Or anything else. As if the world had fallen away around her.
I realised that I wasn’t breathing. I touched my cheeks and felt wetness. Before Mandy could notice, and I suspect she wouldn’t, I backed away.
It wasn’t Mandy’s fault that I felt this way. I knew that. I knew plenty of people like her that I didn’t mind. Passion and focus was a wonderful thing.
She looked like my mom.
But she wasn’t.
Quietly, I turned to leave. Treth manifested, inclining his head questioningly. But he wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.
The sound of crinkling papers broke me from my reverie, as I knocked over a pile of haphazardly stored notes. I turned to see if Mandy had noticed. She hadn’t. The clatter of her keyboard continued.
I sighed and crouched down to collect the notes. There didn’t seem much reason to their storage. Some were notes on the relationship between dryads and Sintari. Others
were about the Earth Court’s marriage rituals.
I shook my head. How could she live in such disorder?
I reached down to pick up a piece of paper with a rudimentary sketch of a dryad tree on it (Mandy wasn’t as good an artist as she was a scholar), just as Mandy grabbed the same piece. She examined the document as I watched her. Her brow creased.
“Rach loved dryads,” she said, quietly, tracing her finger over the sketch which I now realised was a dryad in tree-form. She smiled faintly, remembering something. “The dryad forests were still small then. Just a few copses here and there. A lot of people didn’t like them. Maybe, we shouldn’t blame them. If a tree grew through our living room, we might also dislike fae. But…sis would have loved it. All she ever wanted was to be friends with a dryad.”
I let her words sink in, as Mandy examined the paper. It may have been my imagination, but I saw just the hint of moisture in her eyes.
“I…I didn’t know mom liked fae,” I said, surprised at the casualness in my voice. My heart felt something way more intense.
“She loved them. She did her degree in Fae Studies.”
“I thought it was just an elective…”
Mandy waved aside the comment, chuckling. “That’s just what she told people. She was embarrassed, for some reason. She thought that studying faeries was for kids. That she had to grow up. But, as she grew older…she was getting ready to follow her dreams…”
“What happened?”
What I meant to say was: did I happen?
Mandy frowned. “You were the reason she decided to go back. To start studying the fair folk again. Do you remember when I came back?”
I did. Vaguely. That part of my life was a blur. A dark blur. I didn’t want to remember most of it.
“I was coming back to help her on an expedition. Elves and fae are similar. We were going to make contact with the faeries in the Congo. Something you’d said had encouraged her to start her work again. But…”
Mandy stopped, suddenly, as she bit into her knuckle, repressing a sob.
She put the paper down on the pile I had created, and I renewed piling the notes one by one.
“It’s simpler not thinking about some things…” she said, as we finally finished the pile.
“Not simpler,” I replied. “But easier.”
Mandy blinked, and reached out a hand towards me. I let her squeeze my shoulder, enjoying the touch. For at least a moment.
“I’m glad you’re here, Kat. I really am.”
I smiled, even as tears welled up in my eyes. But, before a moment had passed, Mandy had picked up the pile of notes and carried it to her desk. She sat down, once again consumed by her work.
With a multitude of longing, sadness and regret, I left the apartment, and went to find something to eat.
Chapter 25.
People
I missed Hope City. I missed the buzz of activity. Our crammed and bloody schedule. The street food, the shops, the energy. And I missed my friends.
Not a day went by when I didn’t contemplate the upcoming war with the vampires. That was assuming it hadn’t already begun. What would I find when I returned to my home? Would Cindy and Guy be there to greet me? Or would my absence have been fatally long? Would I find them dead and drained?
I didn’t want to think about it. But I did.
I brooded over my home and what I would find there more and more as I resided in the Star Palace. And when I should have been admiring the alien beauty of this place, I didn’t allow myself to relax. Because this was a land on the cusp of war. Somewhat like my land. And I didn’t know which war I could or should fight.
Candace had recovered. But she didn’t attempt to train again. She insisted that she was fine. Finer than she had been in a long time. But that she wanted to rest. She disappeared for hours at a time into the many gardens of the palace, and sometimes into the dryad wood. I hoped that if she ran into Trudie there, they’d be civil.
But just because Candace didn’t want to train, didn’t mean I shouldn’t. War was coming. From vampires, from elf-haters, and from the Conclave. And I needed to unlock all my powers to fight it.
With a determination that didn’t match my brooding mind, I opened the door to the training room, where Candace had wept and been purged of some of the darkness days before. I expected to see Pranish reading on one of the benches. I hoped I’d see him. His snarky and blunt honesty always helped me put things in perspective.
But Pranish was not present. Instead, it was just Allandrea. Her head rose from her book and she smiled. It filled me with a warmth that almost unnerved me. No human could warrant such a feeling. But, as much as Allandrea may be a person, she was not human. She was something more.
She placed down her book. I noted that it was an old English fantasy novel. I wondered if our pre-Cataclysmic depictions of elves amused her.
“Kat, how are you?” she asked, simply, standing with a grace that betrayed no effort.
How was I? Usually, I’d lie. I’d repeat the common refrain. “Fine, and you?”
But…this was Allandrea. And she saw through lies. I chose to avoid the question.
“Is Pranish not coming to training today?” I asked.
“He is a skilled mage. I have taught him everything that I can. The rest can be found delving into the archives to which I have given him access.”
“I doubt you have taught him everything. Sure, he’s smart. One of the smartest people I know. But you’re…well…you.”
Allandrea laughed good naturedly. “Your awe is misplaced, Champion of the Lady. Age does not grant intelligence. Experience, perhaps. But we all have our limits, that cannot be stretched by age. It is true that I have powers that I have not taught the Mage Ahuja. But that is because he cannot learn them.”
I raised my eyebrow, also noting that she referred to me by the title given to me alongside Ithalen.
“I thought wizardry was just about determination. That anyone could do it if given enough time and concentration,” I replied.
“In theory, yes. But these powers of which I speak are not wizardry.”
“Are you a sorcerer then?”
Her lip quirked up, mischievously.
“There is more than spark and weylines across the realms. There are powers that defy even my people’s categorisation.”
“Do you think the Vessel is like this? That I have some sort of new magical spark?”
“New? Perhaps, perhaps not. Without knowing what that necromancer did to you, I cannot truly know. But I do know that it isn’t what he did to you that makes you special. The Lady of the Lake chose you for another reason. And she does not choose unwisely.”
Allandrea’s words held the tone of encouragement but, as she spoke them, I didn’t feel any sort of relief. I knew I had been chosen. Perhaps, I’d earned the honour. But, if the Lady had chosen me, I couldn’t let her down. And, more than all that…I couldn’t let anyone down.
Before I knew it, I’d slumped down on the bench, hands covering my eyes.
Conclave. The Blood. The wars. And Ithalen, running through my head. Over and over and over.
“I know I need to protect Earth,” I said, my eyes closed, sensing Allandrea by my side. “But I don’t know if I can do it. The Lady entrusted Ithalen to me. She brought me back. But, can I really do it? People keep thinking that I’m winning but, for every monster I kill, there’s a dozen more. And the Conclave is just out of reach. I keep fearing what they’re going to take next. I don’t want my friends to be hurt. I can’t let them…can’t let them die. I watched too many people die already.”
“You are young, Kat Drummond. Young even by human standards. And this is a large burden that has been thrust upon you. You do not have to carry it.”
I looked up and saw sincerity in the elf’s eyes.
“But, if not me…who?”
“The realms survived without you scarring yourself to keep them safe. The light finds a way.”
I snorted bu
t was not amused. “But they call me the Last Light.”
“And do you wish to be that?”
“No…I don’t want to be the last…”
“But?”
I stared into the centre of the out of use magic circle. Did I want to be the Last Light? Did I want to be the hero of my city? The protector of my world?
But those weren’t the right questions.
“I want to hunt monsters,” I answered.
“Why?”
“Because somebody has to. And if not me, then who? But…”
“We all suffer.”
Her ability to almost mind read me was becoming less creepy. More convenient, as I struggled to articulate my own emotions.
“I can’t stop thinking about the times I’ve lost. The people who have died. Could I have done anything differently? What if I had been better? I failed…so much. I don’t think I deserve the Lady’s blessing.”
“But that is not your decision to make. The Lady bestowed upon you her sword and title. What you do with it is up to you. It is done. And it cannot be changed now. The same goes for the people you have lost. The past cannot be changed. We can only focus on the future. Learn. And let others help you. Not just fight by your side. Let them in. And let them fight all your battles with you.”
“It…it’s hard.”
She smiled, faintly. “Nothing of value isn’t.”
Her smile, sad as it looked, was infectious. My lips curved up to mirror her expression, even as tears rolled down my cheeks. Allandrea placed her arm around me and pulled me close. I remained there and wept.
I didn’t forget about all my troubles. Perhaps, I never would. But the elf queen made them seem bearable.
“Why can’t elves and humans live together?” I asked, as my tears began to dry. If only the elf-haters could experience what I had with Allandrea. And know what it was like to live among them.
“I think they can,” Allandrea replied. “But changing the hearts of hurt people can be hard. There is too much hate. From both sides.”
“The War Court?” I asked. Lianthorn seemed adamant on open war against the humans.
The Silver Star (Kat Drummond Book 11) Page 23
