Spellweaver

by Tamara Grantham

  In my mind, we were there in his library again, with the fire warming us as we sat in front of the hearth. I sat with my cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the slow, steady thumping of his heart. He wore a white peasant’s shirt that was open at the top, and the warmth of his skin against mine made me realize that I’d imagined him naked. The thought brought a hint of a smile to my face.

  He leaned in close. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Hmm.” His voice came out low and deep, as if his mind had gone to the same place as mine. “After this is over with, I intend to sling you over my shoulder in true barbarian fashion, and then I shall carry you back to my castle, lock you in my bedroom, and not allow you to leave for a month.”

  My cheeks flushed with heat, a roiling wave that ignited throughout my body.

  He kissed my forehead.

  I wanted so much more, but now wasn’t the time. It seemed now was never the time. Not long ago, Kull had crossed to Earth with me. While there, our relationship had become more than a friendship. Of course, with my luck, we’d returned to Faythander and he’d had no memory of it. But while his memories were forgotten, his emotions were not, which had clued him in to what had happened there. I’d had the awkward task of explaining that I still had a boyfriend back home—one whom I had no feelings for, whom I intended to break up with as soon as I got back. But until that happened, I didn’t feel right being with Kull.

  I pushed away from him. “You know we can’t,” I told him, wishing more than anything that I could say the opposite.

  He ran his finger along my jaw, his touch making me melt. “Then I can wait,” he said in a quiet voice.

  He pulled away as several of his men gathered behind us. They wore packs and carried swords, although some held cudgels and battle-axes, and others held torches. Their faces were set with grim determination. Despite their earlier protests, they looked ready to follow Kull into battle if need be.

  Mochazon made his way toward us. Uli rested in his arms. She moaned but then closed her eyes, seeming at rest as the magic surrounded both her and the pixie man. Mochazon turned to the group, his piercing eyes a deep shade of yellow that seemed to blend into the swamp.

  “Follow me closely. This is a dangerous path we follow. Do not stray, for once you do, it will be impossible for anyone to discover your whereabouts. This is a cursed land.” Fluttering his wings, he lifted off the ground, then flew to a section of the swamp where a narrow trail snaked around towering roots and through patches of inky black water.

  We followed without speaking, which, for our group, was astonishing. The patter of Mochazon’s wings broke up the silence. Wide tree roots rose from the swamp, forming a dense canopy overhead. Our torches sputtered, and embers fell into the water, hissing as they hit the surface.

  The humidity made my shirt and breeches cling to my skin, and my feet ached from walking all day. I had been looking forward to a long night’s sleep, but now it seemed that would never happen. It didn’t matter. I focused on Mochazon up ahead, carrying Uli as she slept. Her hair, braided with beads, clinked softly as he cradled her in his arms.

  We traveled until I lost track of time. No one spoke. Kull stayed close to me, his eyes guarded as we crossed through the swamp. Now and again, the haunting calls of creatures echoed from the darkness, though I didn’t recognize most of the sounds. This deep into the swamp, many creatures had yet to be classified.

  The path sloped downward and thick, curving branches hung low overhead. The network of dark, twisted roots along the path were sometimes so large we had to duck under them instead of clambering over them. The torches reflected off the smooth wood arching gracefully around us. When we emerged from the root cavern, I expected to see some variation in the scenery, yet the same monotonous black water and towering tree roots never changed. My mind conjured images of monsters waiting beneath the water, so I kept my eyes on the path ahead.

  Kull rested his hand casually on the broadsword at his waist. Despite his relaxed attitude, his eyes were alert as he scanned the forest, looking for threats. His appearance and demeanor hinted at his strength. He stood a head taller than most of his men, and his iron-studded vest conformed to his muscled torso, enhancing his air of authority. He wore his customary dragon-hide boots—I still hadn’t asked where he’d gotten them—and his blond hair and striking blue eyes gave credence to his Viking ancestry.

  Kull was male in every sense of the word. I couldn’t imagine any woman not being attracted to him, myself included, although he hadn’t always impressed me. When we’d first met, I’d believed him to be arrogant and overly self-assured. His reputation had aided in that image. But the more I’d gotten to know him, the more I’d seen how devoted he was to his family. He put them above all other obligations and would defend them to the death—a trait that was hard to find in a Wult man, or any man for that matter. He’d refused a chance at battle—unheard of among Wult warriors—to come out here and search for his sister.

  Heidel had left her family to join the leader of the Caxon, Geth—a powerful goblin shape shifter who had nearly killed Kull and me once. She’d fallen in love with Geth, and I wondered if her feelings for him had blinded her to his true nature. If we found Heidel, would she agree to return with us?

  The landscape began to change. Huge, hulking leaves grew overhead, and many of them blanketed the path and floated on the water around us. Our feet crunched over the brittle carpet of foliage. Soon, the leaves obscured the path completely. We kept our eyes on Mochazon and followed behind him. Without him, I was sure we would have gotten lost.

  Sounds of rushing water came from up ahead. The sound grew louder until we stood over a huge chasm. Cold spray misted my face as I peered over the cliff’s edge to stare into a dark, seemingly bottomless pit.

  Brodnik stood beside me with his torch held high, but its fire did little to illuminate the chasm below us. “It’s impossible to tell how far it goes. Could take us till morning to make it to the bottom.”

  “We don’t have until morning,” Mochazon answered, his voice echoing as he landed beside us. “If you wish, I can fly each of you down one by one.”

  Brodnik laughed. “Fly me down? I’ll wear bloomers and dance an elven jig before that happens. You won’t be touching me.”

  Kull inspected the drop. “Flying us down one by one will take too long. We’ll use the ropes to rappel down.” He scratched his chin, seemingly lost in thought. “And with the slippery rocks, it won’t be easy.”

  “What about the torches?” Brodnik asked. “We won’t be able to climb and carry them at the same time. How will we see to get down?”

  “He’s right,” several of the men standing behind us agreed.

  “Perhaps we should wait until morning,” one of the men offered.

  “No,” Kull answered. “There’s no point. The sunlight doesn’t reach this far down.”

  “Then how will we make it?” Brodnik asked.

  “I have an idea,” I said. Kneeling by the edge of the stream, I reached into the chilly water and removed a handful of water-worn pebbles. My fingers grew warm as I called on my magic, letting its power infuse the stones.

  The Wults distrusted magic, but if we wanted to make it safely to the bottom, they’d have to trust me for once.

  I released the spell. “Radiance.”

  Magic drained from my body and into the stones. A soft blue light surrounded the pebbles, and one by one, they lifted off my palm and floated into the air.

  The warriors stared apprehensively as the stones hovered above their heads, casting blue light over their faces.

  “Well,” Brodnik said, his eyes wide, “that’s one way to do it.”

  “The stones will stay with us until we no longer require them,” I explained. “We can leave the torches here.”

  “Are you sure about this?” one of the warriors asked, swatting at a stone. “How do we know this magic is safe?”

&
nbsp; “It’s safer than falling to your death,” I answered.

  “Yes,” Kull said. “Now, remove your ropes.”

  He slung his pack off his shoulder, unfastened the canvas covering, and pulled out a coiled length of rope. We all did the same. We’d used ropes on several occasions already, though never on a drop as deep as this.

  Removing the rope from my pack, my stomach knotted with anxiety as I stood on the edge and contemplated the descent. What would I give to have my stepfather show up right now? Fan’twar was the dragon sky king of Faythander—one of the only creatures I trusted with my life. He’d raised me until my twelfth birthday, and in my mind, he was more of a parent to me than either of my birth parents.

  I’d feel much safer sitting on Fan’twar’s back than dangling from this rope. But as it was, my stepfather was hundreds of miles away, and I doubted he could fit through the tangle of roots we’d traversed and make it to a place so overgrown the sunlight didn’t reach it.

  Kull stood under a large growth of roots, grabbed one, and yanked on it until he seemed satisfied. “We’ll tie off the ropes here.”

  This time, the men followed without complaint. They were in their element, taking orders from their leader, embarking on a quest that may or may not end in the termination of their lives. This was what Wults lived for. I wished I had the same confidence.

  I found a root and tied my rope around it as Rolf stood next to me and did the same. His face, even with its hint of a beard, looked so young. This was his first real quest, and he was over-the-moon excited to be included in Kull’s expedition. But still, his youth bothered me. How would his mother feel if her son didn’t return?

  “Are you frightened of the height?” Rolf asked me.

  Had he noticed the tremor in my hands? “A little,” I answered.

  “But weren’t you raised by the sky king himself? Shouldn’t you be used to this sort of thing?”

  “True. But if I fell, at least I had the sky king to catch me.”

  “What was it like to be raised by the sky king? Were you ever frightened of the dragons?”

  “Honestly, no. Some of my happiest memories are from my time with them. I preferred being raised by dragons.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it’s true. My human mother had trouble showing emotions. She’d had all of her memories from Faythander erased and replaced with false ones. My whole childhood was a lie. She never felt like a parent, probably because she never saw herself as one. I’m not sure if she ever loved me—not really.”

  “But did you love her?” he asked me.

  The question caught me by surprise. I’d been so concerned about whether my mother loved me that I hadn’t contemplated whether I loved her.

  “I’m not sure,” I finally answered. “It’s hard to get close to someone who’s had most of their memories replaced.”

  Rolf shrugged. “Well, it wouldn’t bother me if my mother lost some of her memories, especially her memory of whenever I added soapweed to her boar-hound stew.”

  I cracked a smile. “I see. Yes, I suppose in that situation, your mother’s altered memories would be beneficial.”

  Rolf secured the knot around his waist and tossed the coiled rope over the precipice. The rope thumped against the edge as it tumbled into the darkness.

  The rest of the men did the same until we all stood at the edge.

  “We will go slowly,” Kull called. “This is a longer descent than what we are used to. Do not become too hasty, for you will lose your footing, and no one will be able to rescue you.”

  At that, the men turned, leaned back, and let the ropes support their weight as they slowly descended. I did the same, my heartbeat loud in my ears and my hands slick with sweat as I took my first step into the abyss.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The blackness engulfed me. Not soon enough, my tiny orb lights floated from the top of the ravine, casting a bluish glow over the damp rocks and layers of black soil. I held on to my rope with slick palms as I waited for the orb to catch up to me, and then we descended the crevasse.

  The scent of damp earth filled the air as the waterfall rushed past, spraying cold droplets on my skin. I kept my feet planted firmly on the rock face, though I slipped as I tried to maneuver down. The rope burned my hands. Wincing, I moved down another inch, then another. This was going to take a while.

  The other men didn’t seem to have any better luck. I considered looking down to see if I could spot the bottom but decided against it. Instead, I focused ahead of me.

  The rushing of the waterfall grew quieter the lower we went, and the now-audible men’s voices echoed through the huge canyon.

  Rolf rappelled next to me. “Hello, Olive,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said while trying to find someplace to plant my feet.

  “This is fun, right?”

  “Yes, Rolf. Very fun.” My toes slipped, causing small pebbles to dislodge and plunge to the bottom. My stomach flip-flopped as I lost my grip.

  Rolf caught my arm.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled as I found a foothold.

  “It’s no trouble,” he said with a smile. “You know, Kull and I are second cousins once removed on my mother’s side.”

  “Really?” I fumbled with the rope at my waist. Somehow, the knot had cinched tighter.

  “Yes. I’ve been invited to most of the family feasts and gatherings. I’m named after my grandfather Rolf—” He grabbed my rope as I loosened the knot and nearly dropped to my death. “—who was a great warrior. Our people believe that a departed ancestor is reborn and rejoins the living family members when his name is given to the new baby. So I guess I’m as strong as my grandfather, if you believe that—”

  “Rolf,” I cut him off.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry, but I’m trying to concentrate on not falling to the bottom. Could we have this conversation later?”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry.”

  “No problem,” I answered, straining against my rope.

  Shouts came from below. I glanced down to see that the men had found a ledge. As I lowered myself to the ground, I felt grateful to be on my own two feet again, even if it was a ledge barely wide enough to stand on.

  Kull stood near me. We scanned the ledge as it hugged the mountainside. Far in the distance, the ledge ended and a bridge spanned over a deep crevasse. From my vantage point, the bridge was the only way across the canyon. A river ran along the gorge’s bottom, cutting its way through sharp rocks, although it was so far down, my bauble lights barely illuminated it.

  Mochazon hovered over us. “That way,” he said, pointing at the bridge.

  Kull nodded. “We’ll untie here and follow the trail,” he called, his deep voice booming around the canyon.

  My fingers felt swollen as I untied the knots. Blisters formed where I’d been burned by the rope. As the rest of the Wults and I worked to free ourselves, Mochazon sped to the top of the crevasse and loosened our ropes. They fell to the ground with a loud thump.

  After coiling our ropes, we replaced them in our packs and then started down the trail. I was thankful to be rid of my rope so soon, though I wondered if the trail was any safer. My pebble lanterns stayed with us, casting their soft glow over the uneven path.

  I stared at the canyon with fascination. Anytime I thought I knew everything about Faythander, the world surprised me. Unlike Earth, there were still many places in Faythander that had yet to be discovered.

  We stopped when we reached the bridge. At first, the arching stone formation appeared to be a natural creation, but on closer inspection, I noticed symbols carved along its edges. As my pebble lights drew near the bridge, the symbols lit up with their own magic in a faint pink glow.

  All magical creatures possessed distinct magic, and I’d been trained to decipher them. Dragon magic glowed green; elven magic shone blue; pixie magic was pink; and goblin magic appeared gray. Not everyone could see the colors the same way I saw them, which gave me an advantage, but I sen
sed something odd. The pixie magic felt faint, as if the spell had been cast a very long time ago, and there was something else, too. Concentrating, I tried to see past the pixie’s spell. Searching deeper, I found another spell hidden beneath, so interwoven into the bridge’s molecules I almost didn’t sense it. Gray magic.

  Goblins.

  Mochazon landed beside me. Uli stirred, but her eyes remained closed.

  “Goblins have been here,” I said. “They’ve tampered with the bridge.”

  He nodded, his face grim. “Many generations ago, my people created this bridge, not to deter other pixies, but to prevent those who could not control flight from discovering the tree. Either Geth has set a trap for us, or he has broken the spell and crossed.

  “Each of these symbols represents an ancient word. This one—” He pointed to an H-shaped symbol that had a long line drawn vertically through the center. “—is the word for ‘life’. And the symbol beside it is a word that means ‘destroy’. Translated altogether, the phrase reads, ‘I give life, yet I destroy. I am as large as the world but as small as a seed. Call my name, and you shall release me’.”

  “A riddle?”

  Mochazon nodded. “It appears so. The answer must be the magical word that will allow us to pass.”

  “Do you know the answer?” I asked him.

  He shook his head.

  I studied the bridge as Kull walked forward and stood beside me. “Are you any good at riddles?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “That depends on how the riddle is worded.”

  I repeated the phrase for him, and at the same time, tried to understand its meaning. What would give life and destroy? A mother gave life, and she also had the ability to destroy, but comparing her size to the world and to a seed made no sense. What else could it be?

  “Could it possibly speak of the elements?” Kull asked. “Light, perhaps?”