Unfettered II: New Tales By Masters of Fantasy

by Shawn Speakman

  The Last Flowers of the Spring Witch

  Shawn Speakman

  The snowflakes stopped falling at the edge of an Eden.

  Heliwr of the Yn Saith Richard McAllister dismounted from Lyrian to stand in slushy snow, the view of the valley below breathtaking after the arduous trip through the Everwinter. Color. A lot of it. A forest as vibrant as any spring could create stretched before him, its breadth wild and alive, the clouds having parted and sunshine striking the greens and browns of fir, alder, and hemlock. Behind him, those same trees were covered in an icy mantle, the knight standing where two seasons met. From the valley, he could hear birds singing and insects buzzing; behind, the dead silence of a frozen land. It was an odd feeling. Richard breathed deep, letting the warm, musky odor of growing life chase away the numb chill in his nose. The valley beckoned and it was easy to accept the invitation, to leave the harsh Everwinter behind.

  He did not forget the warning given before setting out on this quest. Merle had told him the truth. The creature ahead had powers as unnatural as the Everwinter.

  And would likely be just as dangerous.

  “It is about time you got here, Rick,” Snedeker sniped, flying to a perch upon a thick fir branch overhead, his rainbow-hued wings shimmering. The fairy looked down upon him disapprovingly. He always did. “What took you so long?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Lyrian and I do not fly,” Richard growled.

  “No one is perfect.”

  The knight gave the fairy a dark look.

  “By the Lady, this paradise is a welcome surprise,” Snedeker said, the wood and moss of his tiny face turning up to the warm sunshine.

  Richard grunted. “You know how much I hate surprises.”

  “After that child warlock down in Arberth almost killed us, a great deal, I would imagine.” Snedeker stared into the valley. “Where do you think the witch is?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  At that, Snedeker flew ahead, weaving through the forest, ensuring the way was clear of traps—magical or otherwise. Richard strode after, his mighty steed following. The knight kept alert. Myrddin Emrys, the ancient wizard known to many as Merle, had given instructions to find the witch living in northern Annwn, a woman connected to the land in a way even those of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were not. Merle wished to know the answer to a simple question—how long would the Everwinter last. Richard wanted to know too. Two years had passed since High King Philip Plantagenet’s death and with him centuries of the unnatural summer he had used to wage war. Nature now corrected the imbalance, the land recovering in a winter longer than usual. If it continued, it endangered all life in Annwn.

  But witches were wily creatures.

  And Merle always had an ulterior motive when he asked Richard to quest, his words never quite what they seemed.

  At least the wizard’s games annoyed Snedeker. A silver lining.

  Beginning to sweat freely, Richard removed his heavy jacket and placed it in Lyrian’s saddlebags, the day too warm for winter garb. Once the steep slope of the upper valley leveled out into gently rolling hills, the Heliwr decided to head toward the center of the wooded dale. The three companions crossed numerous icy-cold streams and the sound of wildlife increased. Snedeker scouted and returned often, the fairy carrying out his duty. No danger presented itself; no evidence of the witch existed. If not for the odd spring day, Richard would have wondered if Merle had sent them to a wrong part of Annwn. He could have used the Dark Thorn to discover the witch but doing so would alert a seasoned magic user. Best he kept his presence a secret.

  Late morning became early afternoon. Richard estimated they were nearing the middle of the valley, the snowy ridges equally far away. The Heliwr and Lyrian crossed a shallow creek, entering a meadow filled with knapweed, cornflowers, yarrow, and buttercups. The sudden color was dizzying.

  Weaving through the air’s buzzing insects, Snedeker returned, the look at the fairy’s face telling Richard all he needed to know.

  “She’s ahead,” the Heliwr said.

  “Maybe. A home is. Simple enough. A man tends animals out front. There is no sign of her. I did not get a look inside though.”

  “Be prepared then,” Richard directed, spying the forest on the other side of the long grasses.

  “And another thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You will not be prepared for what lies ahead, I will tell you that.”

  Richard frowned. The Heliwr had no idea what the fairy meant. Before he could ask, Snedeker was already speeding back across the glen and upward into the massive fir trees that fronted the witch’s home. He would keep an eye from above.

  If the fairy meant danger, he would have told the knight. Still, Richard called upon the Dark Thorn. His badge of office, the black staff materialized into his hand, bonded to him at the time of his knighthood. Its warmth gave him reassurance; its magic would protect him. Wasting no time, he strode through the meadow and into the stand of ancient fir trees ahead, their trunks wide and thick branches high overhead. He began to see evidence of habitation—a short rhododendron with a circle of rocks around it, several carved wooden benches and chairs, a mound of dirt with pruned flowers planted upon it. They became more frequent the farther Richard went and they indicated land that was well-tended—loved, even.

  When he first spied the home, Richard agreed with Snedeker. It was a simple, single-story structure, able to comfortably fit a family in the Annwn way.

  Surrounding it though was a sight of rare beauty, one Richard had never seen in all of his travels—a garden sanctuary, its vibrancy wild but crafted with loving care. And it was in full bloom, every plant. A ring of ancient rhododendrons grew around the house, tall as the decades had made them, their branches thick with large blooms of red, orange, purple, and yellow. Clematises crawled over lattices, blooming upward. A pair of lilacs fronted the house, permeating the air with sweetness. Scrub jays, pigeons, doves, robins, and other birds—some from the Misty Isles, others elsewhere—frolicked and screeched among one another. Bees and hummingbirds moved from flower to flower, never getting in the way of the other. Several squirrels scampered in the shadows. A haven from the Everwinter, the garden was a peaceful harmony.

  Snedeker landed on his shoulder and shook his leafy head. The guide discerned no danger about the home.

  An older bald man moved into view then, rail thin with a thick mustache. From a sack, he threw seeds and nuts, the birds as well as squirrels taking quick advantage. When he saw Richard, the old man paused briefly. The Heliwr saw past hardship in the other’s pale blue eyes—the kind that usually breaks a person.

  “My wife is inside,” the other said, an edge to his voice.

  Richard nodded his thanks. Also not sensing danger but keeping the Dark Thorn ready anyway, the knight walked beneath the closest rhododendron and up a set of steps to a long porch fronting the house. And through the home’s open door.

  Light from several windows illuminated the interior—a life lived in simple terms and comforts. Functional furniture. Shelves of books, free of dust. A stove, unlit, with wood in a bin. Paintings and trinkets on the walls. Two unfinished quilts draping a couch. A chair in the room’s center where a pipe rested on a side table, the house filled with the odor of long-spent tobacco. Nothing about it suggested witch except a black cat watching from a rocking chair, its lantern eyes staring suspiciously at Richard.

  The Heliwr took it all in with a glance.

  As well as the witch.

  She sat upon the chair closest him, her feet up and an open book upon her lap. Green eyes saw Richard and what he saw there surprised him. Kindness. Honesty. And country wisdom. Nothing about her said threat.

  She closed her book and stood. Not thin and not heavy, the witch had seen her share of hard work in her day, the silver in her blond hair beginning to win the battle. Her smile lit up the room though, the kind that set Richard immediately at ease—until a twinge of pain crossed her face, gone
almost as quickly.

  “Heliwr Richard McAllister,” she said, her returned smile lifting rosy cheeks, eyes dancing with life. “I am Kathidell Jayn Oldten. You have already met my husband, Ryk, I believe. Welcome to our home.” She looked at the Dark Thorn. “It is safe here, I assure you, knight and guide.”

  Richard did not relinquish it. He still worried that all of this was some sort of ruse. “You knew we were coming.”

  “No, no, not at all,” Kathidell said, waving the idea aside. “But something known is not always revealed until the moment it is necessary.”

  “I bet you know who sent us.”

  “Myrddin Emrys, of course.” She looked out one of the windows. “There are friendships that cross worlds and centuries.” She paused, thinking. “He has ever been one to hide things. I am sure you know that by now though, don’t you, Heliwr?”

  Richard knew all too well. “Do you know why I am here too?”

  “I know the reason why you think you are here—and the real reason.”

  “Here we go, Rick,” Snedeker snorted, having followed Richard into the home. The fairy hated riddles more than even the knight. “The beginning of the nonsense that puts us in danger.”

  “What my winged, irascible friend means is, it is obvious you and Merle are friends,” Richard said. Unlike Merle who easily got under his skin, he could not help but like the witch. “You both speak in riddles. Thus making our lives harder.”

  “The best discovered truths begin as riddles,” Kathidell said. She folder her hands before her but her gaze never wavered from his. He could feel her evaluating him. “Tell me, Heliwr of the Yn Saith, why do you think you are here?”

  “To discover when the Everwinter will end,” Richard replied. “Important information for the survival of Annwn. And Merle seems to think you know the answer.”

  Kathidell nodded, thinking, and walked away. Richard waited for a response and watched her, a very different witch than he had expected. Appearing to be in her sixties but who could be much older, Kathidell looked into a mirror that hung on the wall behind a small dining table, seeking something there only she could know. She looked down at a vase in the center of the table then, the crystal filled by a variety of flowers, all shades of purple. They had become slightly wilted. She smiled in a small way that erased her years and touched them tenderly. The flowers perked up as if they were freshly cut, their sweet fragrance come alive again, cutting through the air saturated with pipe smoke.

  “I have need of your services, Heliwr of the Yn Saith,” she said. “Time is short, and you and your fairy companion are the only ones nearby who are capable of aiding me in my time of need.”

  “We are already here at Merle’s behest,” Richard said. “Even if we fully trusted you, taking on another task before completing his would not be right.”

  “An exchange then,” Kathidell said, turning back to the knight.

  “An exchange?” Snedeker questioned.

  “I wish to see my sons, noble fairy. Here, in my valley,” she said, her demeanor become grave, her long life now deepening the wrinkles about her eyes. “The Everwinter makes correspondence difficult, visitation almost impossible, as I am sure you know. In return, I will share with you the information you seek.”

  “A simple request,” Richard said, thinking. He had traveled the Everwinter a great deal, his Rhedewyr mount Lyrian able to push through snows that normal horses could not. “Why me though? Why now? And what need can be so important?”

  Kathidell Jayn Oldten looked upon her flowers again.

  “Because, Heliwr Richard McAllister, a troll is trying to kill me.”

  “She is not telling us everything,” Snedeker repeated. Again.

  Richard didn’t have to ask who his guide meant. The fairy had said it about a hundred times during their snowy trek across several dozen miles of frozen Everwinter. He had largely ignored the Oakwell fairy because it hadn’t mattered.

  Locating the first son had not been difficult—he had been exactly where his mother had said he would be—but convincing him to return home had been the hard part. With big hands and shoulders that looked like they could hold up the world, Tod Oldten was a giant of a man, larger than most. He had a ready smile though, and his eyes held little meanness. Richard had no doubt the man had seen his share of dangerous work given that he led men into the depths of the Kynlleith Mines. He would make a formidable presence against the troll.

  No, the difficulty had not been with finding Tod. It had been with his wife, Whit. Recently married, they had a six-month-old baby girl. Travel with the child would not be easy through the Everwinter. She had vehemently fought the idea. The Heliwr could not disagree with her. In the end—and in a quiet, earnest way that Richard silently admired—Tod had convinced Whit behind closed doors. They were already on their way, leaving the knight, guide, and Rhedewyr mount to journey on alone.

  Now Richard observed the frozen, walled city of Seith Marchawg.

  To find Kathidell’s first born.

  “No, she is not telling us everything,” Richard agreed finally, arms crossed. “You repeating it incessantly does not suddenly explain her intentions.”

  “I do like her though. For a witch,” Snedeker said. “She is warm, unlike this cursed winter. I will call her the Spring Witch. That suits.” The fairy glared at him anew. “I just feel like you should hear my view is all.”

  “Oh, I know your feelings on this matter well enough,” Richard snorted. “You have never had a problem with that. Now, are you going to find him or what?”

  Annoyed all the more, Snedeker flew into the city. Richard waited, needing to think. The fairy guide had a point. It had nagged him all the way from the spring vale, to the mines, and now to Seith Marchawg. Kathidell Jayn Oldten was powerful in what she could do with nature—Merle had not been wrong on that account—but she hid a secret. When pressed about the troll before they left, she had shared nothing more, her responses as evasive as any wizard’s would be. How could a troll be killing her when there was no evidence of the creature? Why did the troll want to kill her? How could her sons help? Did they possess magic to defeat one of the Tuatha de Dannan fey? During their discussion, the pain had returned again, stronger. He could not discern its cause. The more he thought about it, the more he thought the troll was only part of the problem.

  With a light snow falling once more, Snedeker returned just after noon, the fairy glowering more than usual.

  “Did you find him?” Richard asked.

  The fairy nodded. “Another problem has arisen.”

  Richard didn’t like the sound of that.

  “What is it?”

  “What is it about the winter that drives humans to procreate?” the fairy sniffed indignantly, the very idea clearly distasteful to the fey creature.

  Richard growled, now worried, following the guide into the city through the gate. Few people were about. The Everwinter drove them inside, making Richard’s job all the easier. People had a way of not trusting a stranger; worse, sometimes they blamed a stranger for life’s hardships. It wasn’t until he entered the city’s center that a semblance of normalcy appeared, people going about errands or visiting friends, everyone bundled up but with a downtrodden aspect. Seith Marchawg was not immune to the Everwinter that slowly killed Annwn. Richard could see it written on its people. If he could discover how long the Everwinter would last, perhaps they could at least give the people hope for spring’s eventual return.

  In front of him, Snedeker flew through the streets, keeping to what crags and shadows existed, working to remain unseen. Some people blamed the fey for the change in the season. It would not do to reveal his presence, not for any reason.

  After numerous twists and turns and with no one around, the fairy flew up to sit upon a merchant sign.

  Grim Oak Books.

  “A dour name for a business,” Snedeker remarked.

  “These are dour times,” Richard said. A window sign denoted the bookstore was open. “A
re you sure he is here?”

  “Fattleswat,” the fairy cursed, glaring. “When have I ever been wrong?”

  Richard had several memories spring to mind. But he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he took the couple of steps up to the store’s entrance, cranked the door lever and, with a bell announcing his entrance, left the cold behind for the warmth within. It was a warmth of heart as well as body. Richard stood within a large bookstore—large for the likes of Annwn. Bookcases lined the walls, their shelves filled with thousands of books. All sizes. All colors. Undoubtedly all subjects. Freestanding shelves occupied the floor amidst several tables and plush chairs—placed for patron use. Staircases at the back of the store led to a second floor with more tomes. The aromatic odor of leather, ink, and pages put Richard in an immediate better mood. In his world, it was an average-sized local store; in Annwn, the collection was worth a fortune. Whoever had created and maintained it had a similar passion for the written word.

  That person sat in a tall chair at the rear of Grim Oak Books. Glancing at the knight as he approached, Sion Oldten returned to sewing a new binding into one of his wares. Bald without being old, older without youth’s naiveté, the fortyish man looked nothing like his brother, instead obviously taking after their father.

  “What can I do for you, traveler?” Sion asked, scrutinizing the knight. “It is a rarity these days for me to not know someone who walks through that door. Those who buy books do so even during difficult times like these. The rest do not.” He paused, putting down his work. “I carry books of all sorts. What are you looking for?”

  “Although I am quite impressed by your shop, I am not here for a book,” Richard said. “I’m here for you.”

  A frown crossed the other’s face. “At whose behest?”

  Richard sat in a chair across from the other, the large counter between them. Despite Sion looking like this father, his mother’s kindness shone in his eyes. “I am here on behalf of Kathidell Jayn Oldten.”

  Worry removed the frown. Sion put his binding work down.