Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1)

by Missy Sheldrake

  “I’m keeping you here,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Rian.”

  “Azi...” he shakes his head and steps close to me, circling his arms around me. He strokes my hair and my back as I rest my cheek on his shoulder. Too soon, he drops his arms and steps away. “I promise I’ll be back with answers as soon as I have them.”

  “Can I do anything to help?” I ask. He shakes his head.

  “I wish you could, but you’re not permitted.” I know he’s right. There is a strict law governing who is allowed within the walls of the Academy. Only students and teachers of magic may enter the compound. Even the fact that I’m related to the Headmaster won’t grant me entry. “Don’t worry.” He flashes me a grin that melts away the anger and exhaustion that was there just moments before. “Take care of your Da. I’ll see you soon.” He turns, and I watch until his slender form disappears around the bend beyond the park promenade, leaving me alone.

  The bucket is easily emptied, but when I return to the training square my next task seems insurmountable. The scatter of weapons lying dusty and discarded by our experiment is my responsibility. One of my first duties, even before I was able to start training, was to tend to polishing, storing, and organizing the guild’s cache. I take pride in the fact that they are always on gleaming display in the racks around the square. The state of them now is a disgrace. I nudge the butt of a hammer with the toe of my boot. Nothing happens. I crouch and wrap the loose hem of my trouser leg around my hand, and then grasp the handle of the weapon. Screaming, blackness, spinning, and I toss the weapon down with a growl of frustration.

  Determined not to give up on the simple chore of putting the weapons away, I go to my father’s forge and find his pickup tongs. With them I’m able to line the weapons along the training bench and wipe each one down. I find that avoiding the hilt prevents me from any effects of the curse, so I am careful not to touch any handles even with the barrier of oiled cloth in my hand. I’m halfway through the task when Mouli finds me kneeling in the dust, polishing the blade of a scimitar that rests on the bench. I secretly slide my father’s tongs between my knees before she notices them. I don’t want to worry her with the curse.

  “Always working, you.” Her tone is soft and affectionate. She steps down from the hall door, and with her she carries the sweet scent fresh, warm bread. My stomach growls. “Skipped lunch today, I expect?” I think back and realize that I haven’t actually eaten at all since yesterday. This information, I know, would incite her wrath, and so I keep it to myself. “I’m starving now,” I admit truthfully enough as I carefully slide my fingers under the blade and flip the sword over to work the other side. “Something smells amazing.”

  “Well, it’s your favorite for dinner. Sea crab stuffed rolls.” My mouth waters as she dusts some flour from her skirt. “Will you take it in the hall, or perhaps with your father in his room?” I’ve avoided thinking of my father for most of the day. Our earlier encounter still rattles me. But I know that wasn’t really him, and I know he should be getting better. Suddenly I feel guilty that I haven’t checked in on him all day.

  “Has he woken up yet?” I ask.

  “Now and again,” she replies. “He had some broth at midday.” My heart skips.

  “How was he?” I search her face. She looks to the side, and I can tell she’s deciding how to word her reply.

  “Not quite himself, yet.” She offers me a sympathetic smile. “But think of how he’s improved since yesterday. He’ll be up and about in no time.” I look down at my work and then along the bench at the dozen weapons waiting for their shine.

  “I’ll finish up here and then eat upstairs,” I say. It’ll take at least an hour to get through the task, and I hate to leave it half-finished.

  “Luca’ll finish up for you,” Mouli offers. “He’s been sitting up there with your Da all afternoon. He’ll be glad of the work. Go on and wash up. I’ll bring you a tray.”

  Da is asleep when I arrive a little while later. I whisper my greeting to Luca, who gladly hurries off to finish my work in the training square. He’s not much different than I am in that respect. We both hate to sit idle when there’s work that needs doing. When he’s gone, I approach Da’s bedside with caution. Just like this morning, he’s tucked perfectly into bed, resting on his back. His shirt has been changed, and the yellow fabric against his skin makes him look sallow. I sink to sit on the edge of the bed, and I slip my hand into his. His skin is rough and calloused, but his hand is warm and his fingers close gently around mine. Slowly he turns his head and his eyes flutter open. They take a moment to focus, and I feel my muscles tensing, ready to jump up and run away if I need to. I’m relieved, though, when his lips stretch into a weak smile.

  “Azi, my Azi,” he whispers. His eyes rest on my throat and I reach up quickly with my free hand to cover the bruises that I’m sure are there. His hand tightens around mine and a tear brims in the corner of his eye and rolls down his cheek. I wipe it away before gets too far. “I didn’t know.” He closes his eyes.

  “It’s okay, Da. It’s okay.” I smooth a curl behind his ear and stroke his hair until he falls asleep again.

  When Mouli comes with my supper, I finish two rolls the size of Bryse’s fist and delight her by asking for more. My father’s recognition of me and his apology have lifted my spirits. The warm glow of candlelight dancing over his sleeping form comforts me. He knows me. At least I have him. At least we’re together. With a full belly and an exhausting day behind me, it isn’t long before I find myself dozing curled up in the soft cushions of the bedside chair. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping before I’m roused by a single thump in my room. When I open my eyes they’re drawn to the hallway, where an odd cast of light dances on the wall. It melds with the waning lamplight, but its pattern is a dapple of every color of the rainbow, and its flicker is brighter.

  In a sleepy daze, I glance at my father before I push myself up and tiptoe to the door. The light reminds me of the diamond in my pitcher, and its source is somewhere in my bedroom. Curious, I creep through the hall as quietly as I can and peer into my room. The pitcher on my windowsill lays on its side again, though I distinctly remember setting it upright in my haste this morning. Sparkling light glimmers from inside of it, casting colorful prisms across the walls. The pitcher wriggles a little, and the ribbons and lace adorning it flutter. I stand fixed in the doorway and rub the sleep from my eyes as I watch the odd spectacle. I’ve just about convinced myself that some outside source must be shining on the diamond inside to cause such an effect when I hear a tiny whisper.

  “You can stay, just be quiet—“

  “What?” I cross the room in two strides and pick up the little house. The light goes out instantly, leaving me blind in the sudden darkness. When my eyes adjust, I pull out the little bed and the scraps of lace and silk to discover my diamond rolling around beside a small black cricket. I stare at it for a moment. “Did you...” I realize that it’s mad to be addressing a bug and I shake my head. With impeccable timing as always, the hatch slides open and Rian peers in at me. I imagine how I must look, standing at my window, talking to a pitcher. Maybe I am going mad.

  “Catch any fairies yet?” He jests. I set the pitcher on its side. At this point, I’m not sure how to answer him. The whispering was clear as day, but already I’m doubting it. I had been sleeping. It was probably just a lingering dream.

  “None yet.” I force a laugh and tuck the makeshift bed back inside, careful not to crush the cricket. “Did you find anything?”

  “Nothing. But an interesting nothing. Can I come over?” I nod. The wall between us shimmers and shifts, and Rian steps right through it to stand beside me. As the wall solidifies again behind him, he gestures to it dramatically and turns to grin at me.

  “How...?” I gape at him.

  “I found a tome about borders and territory. It was fascinating. The theory is that with permission, one can cross any border, ethereal or physical, no matter how impossible it may
seem.” The cricket’s chirp emanates from the pitcher, followed quickly by a “Shh!” I look at Rian, who has heard it too, and is staring at the source of the sound. He shakes his head dismissively and turns back to me. “It’s a fairly simple spell once you get the hang of it.”

  “How does it relate to the curse?” I ask, trying my best not to let my eyes stray to the windowsill where the cricket has started up again.

  “That’s where the interesting nothing comes in,” he says. “I was halfway through a book of known curses when I found a page torn out. The page before that described something similar to what you’re experiencing. I found several tomes with similar pages gone, but I was able to piece a bit of information together nonetheless. One of them mentioned an affliction that was caused by crossing into unwelcome territory, which led me to the book with that spell.” He reaches up and slides his fingertips through his hair sheepishly. “I got a little distracted after that. I really wanted to learn it.”

  “Typical.” The whisper from the pitcher is faintly audible alongside the cricket’s song, which stops abruptly. Again, Rian’s eyes snap to the source. He looks from it to me and I’m finally certain that he’s heard it, too. He brushes past, reaches for the pitcher, and starts to cast something, but then he stops and looks back at me.

  “May I?” he asks. I nod, though I’m unsure what exactly he’s asking for permission to do. He picks it up and looks inside. I come to his side and peer in, too. The cricket and diamond are hidden behind the pile of fine scraps. Rian murmurs something in the scholar’s tongue and sudden pinpoints of light burst forth from the pitcher. A light, larger than the cricket but smaller than my palm shoots over my shoulder and lands on my bed with a soft “oof!” Rian and I exchange glances and I rush to the bed to get a closer look.

  A tiny girl with beautiful iridescent wings at her back looks up at me, her arms crossed. Her skin is so light that it’s nearly translucent, and it shimmers beautifully. Her hair is done up in many pony tails across the crown of her head, each one a different color of the rainbow. The scowling narrow slits of her eyes are unlike anything I’ve seen before. They shift constantly from gold to green, from purple to pink. She’s dressed in a tiny skirt pieced together with shimmering bits of ribbon, some of which I recognize from Margary’s pitcher. At her waist is a belt weighed down with several tiny pouches. Her corset, like her eyes, shifts in color according to the way the light plays on it. As she scowls up at us, everything about her reminds me of my diamond.

  Chapter Eight: Flit

  “Rude!” she squeaks, pointing across the room at Rian. “So rude!” His wide eyes are fixed on her in disbelief as he stands holding the pitcher. He looks at me and snaps his mouth shut. When I kneel down beside the bed to get a closer look, she stands up and flutters her wings until her toes are barely grazing the coverlet. Her lips are pressed tightly together and she brushes at her clothing and bare arms as if trying to clear something away. After a moment, she thrusts her finger back in Rian’s direction. “Take it off, you! It’s not nice!”

  “Uh...” Rian leans away slightly, his mouth hanging open again. He looks at me with wide eyes and his shoulders slowly slide up to his ears. I look back at the fairy, who is now hovering at eye level with me, her nostrils flared in annoyance.

  “Um...” I croak, barely able to muster any words through my utter disbelief. I clear my throat and my voice comes a little stronger. “Take what off?” Her light dazzles my eyes and I raise a hand to my brow to shade them. She scoots back in midair and rests a fist on her hip, the other hand still thrust at Rian. She jabs her pointer again.

  “Revealer! He put a Revealer on me and I wasn’t ready yet! Take it off!” She darts across the room at him and stabs the tip of his nose with her finger. “Take it off right now!” Rian drops the pitcher and it rolls away from him as he claps a hand over his nose.

  “Ow, cut it out.” He ducks away and she chases after him, catching his auburn side lock and tugging it with fury.

  “Take it off!” she squeals.

  “I don’t know how!” He yanks his hair away, sending her tumbling through the air. She rights herself just beside my head and hovers behind me.

  “Typical!” she squeaks, “So typical!” She ducks behind my shoulder and I turn my head slowly to look at her. She’s absolutely smoldering with anger but when Rian takes a step closer, she darts away. “Don’t you come near me, you, you, Mage!” She spits the last word out with distaste.

  “You’re real,” I whisper, staring at her. “A real fairy.”

  “Well of course I’m a real fairy. I’ve only been sitting in that tin pot of yours for two days now waiting for you to notice me. Which, by the way, stinks of metal. This whole place stinks of metal and smoke and I don’t even know what. Did you know that? The ribbons are nice, though. I wonder how long I’d have stayed in there before you really believed in me. Maybe it’s better he put that spell on me, isn’t it? I mean it could have taken weeks! You’re a little thick, aren’t you?”

  “Hey!” Rian warns, and she creeps around to hide behind my other shoulder.

  “Well, really. Really, I’ve heard all sorts of things about your kind but I honestly didn’t believe half of it. And now that I’m here I realize it’s mostly true. Especially the part about Mages. I didn’t realize there’d be one so close by. I kind of wish I hadn’t agreed to come after all.” She wrinkles her nose at Rian.

  “Well, since no one’s invited you, maybe you should just go!” He rubs his nose and the roots of his tugged hair simultaneously, scowling.

  “Well I can’t do that, can I? I just now got back here. I’d have to wait for sunrise to go again. That’d be a waste anyway. Nothing to report. Unless you count utter disregard for my privacy! But they’d already expect that from your kind.” I look between them, trying to focus. There is a fairy in my room. A real one. They exist. I am not crazy, Rian sees her, too. We’re having a conversation with an actual fairy. I think of the dream, and the diamond.

  “How long did you say you’ve been here?” I ask her.

  “Well, I got here yesterday. So I guess it’s really just a day. But still.” I stoop to collect the pitcher that Rian dropped. The diamond clinks around inside, and I scoop it out to show her.

  “Is this from you?” I ask.

  “Hmph!” She crosses her arms and turns her shoulder toward me, “I’m not telling you anything with him in here.”

  “Rian’s my best friend,” I say. “I’m going to tell him everything you tell me, anyway.” She immediately presses her lips together and shakes her head firmly. I sigh and look at Rian, who all at once seems bemused and insulted. On top of that, his eyes are framed with deep circles. He’s exhausted.

  “Ah, I guess I’ll go to bed, then...” his voice trails off as he backs away to the door, his palms open and up. I’m grateful that he decides to use the stairs rather than slip through the wall again, for the fairy’s sake.

  “So, Azi, what do you want to know?” She grins and bats her eyes sweetly, completely amiable once she’s sure Rian is gone.

  “I...” I sit with my back resting against the bed. This is all so strange. “How do you know my name?” I ask. She comes to hover at my knee, her pretty wings almost invisible as they flutter to keep her aloft.

  “Well, your mother told me.” She answers casually, her eyes fading from blue to lavender. She glances up at the hatch, which I’ve left open, and she flies up to slide it closed. It’s a struggle for her at first and I start to get up to help her, but she manages it on her own and eventually clicks the latch over the bar.

  “My mother? When? Do you know where she is?”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” she raises a hand to stop me as she drifts back down, “That’s not how we play.” she points at me. “You ask a question,” she points to herself, “and then I ask a question. Then, you. Then, me. Then, you. Then, me. You, me, you, me, you, me. Got it?” She nods sagely and folds her arms. I bite my lip. This is a game to her, but not to
me. She’s spoken to my mother. She might know where she is. Still, I doubt she’ll tell me anything unless I play by her rules.

  “Fine,” I say, “Your turn.”

  “Why are you friends with that stinky Mage?” she wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes in the direction of Rian’s room.

  “He isn’t stinky. I think he smells wonderful. Like old books and incense.” I smile, and she blinks at me.

  “Old books are dead trees. And incense is burnt plants. And you didn’t answer the question.” She scowls. I sigh.

  “Rian is my friend because we grew up side by side. We’ve been together through everything for as long as I can remember. He cares about me, and I care about him. He’s a good person.” I glance up at the hatch. I really am lucky to have him in my life.

  “Your turn!” she drifts down to stand on my bent knee.

  “When did you see my mother?” I ask, barely feeling her there.

  “Yesterday. My turn! What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue. Where did you see her?”

  “In Kythshire.” She sniffs at the fabric of my trousers and wrinkles her nose, then hovers up again, “Who made the pretty little house for me?”

  “Princess Margary.” I pause, thinking, “Is she safe?”

  “Is who safe? Princess Margary? How should I know? I haven’t met her. She makes a lovely house though. It really is sweet, with all of the ribbons. Do you think she minds that I’ve taken a few of them?”

  “No, she wouldn’t mind,” I say. It occurs to me that she’s broken her own rule by asking several questions at once, but I don’t want to anger her by pointing it out. I think of how delighted little Margy would be to see a fairy here, a real fairy. I’d love to introduce the two of them. They’d get on well. “What’s your name?” I ask.