Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1)

by Missy Sheldrake

  “Yes, I apologize. Ember and Shush will collect what they need, and Twig will bring them to Cerion when the moon comes up. In the meantime, the rest of us will see if we can find out exactly what Viala is planning. Does that work?” I look from one to the next, waiting for someone to protest. Shush is watching Ember with the forlorn expression of a shunned puppy, while Flit and Twig are nodding enthusiastically.

  “This’ll be fun! We’ll get to explore some more,” Flit says. “Twig, you can see Azi’s house!”

  “I might stay with the Princess.” Twig says. “She’s been needing me more and more lately.”

  “We’ll go, then,” Ember avoids looking at any of us. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us while the rest of you are off gallivanting around with the humans.” She vanishes before any of us have a chance to reply. Shush offers me an apologetic smile.

  “Guess I’ll be going with her,” he says, and streaks up to the treetops in a blur of green.

  “Poor guy,” Rian murmurs. “He’s definitely pulled the short straw of the bunch.”

  “I think he’s used to it by now,” Twig says. “They’re often paired up. Scree keeps trying to get them back together.”

  “Don’t know what he sees in her,” Flit says, her light dancing much brighter now that Ember has gone. She flashes a smile at me. “I’m ready! Can we go now?”

  “First things first,” Twig says. “You’re both in the Half-Realm, that’s true, so you’ll be unseen until someone believes you’re there. So you need to be careful not to knock into things or make any sudden noises.”

  “And you should come down to our size again,” Flit says. “It’s easier on us to move you when you’re smaller. Plus there’s less of a chance of bumping into anything or anyone that way.” Rian and I exchange glances. I don’t relish the thought of being fairy-sized among my own kind, but they’re right. It’s less risky. Reluctantly, I nod my agreement.

  “Tiny it is, then,” Rian says. He waves his hand and I feel the ground rising up and the trees stretching high above once more, until I’m up to my shins in spongy moss.

  “Right then,” Twig says as he drifts down to join us. He holds his hands out to us, and Flit, Rian, and I grasp them together.

  “Wait,” I say, looking at Flit. “Is this going to be like your diamond?” I distinctly remember the discomfort of squeezing myself out of the cramped space into Mya’s belt pouch, and being crammed in with Flit and Rian once he came through, too. Flit turns to Twig.

  “What’s your tether?” she asks him.

  “A little poppet of a fairy,” he says. I try to imagine arriving inside the cottony stuffing and having to tear my way out.

  “How does that work? How do you get out of it?” I ask.

  “Out of it?” Twig asks. “We’ll just arrive beside it.” he gives Flit an odd look, and she ducks her head and her eyes flash mischievously as she grins back at him.

  “I had a little fun with them their first go,” she whispers to him.

  “Flit!” I shake my head in disbelief.

  “What?” She shrugs. “Not many people can say they’ve seen a diamond from the inside. Think about it. I gave you an experience not many will ever repeat!” Rian lets out a sigh of exasperation.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” he says.

  “Ready?” Twig asks. We nod, and the air around us begins to shimmer. The grotto fades away, and the ground beneath our feet transforms from soft moss to something plush and fluffy. I squeeze my eyes shut until I’m aware of something warm and soft settling over my head. I reach to push it up, but it’s too heavy, and I’m forced first to crouch to my knees in the darkness. Thankfully, Flit is not far behind. Her colorful light brightens the dark space, which reminds me of some sort of pillow-like cavern. Nearby I can see the poppet that Twig mentioned lying on the plush pink ground. It’s a ragged little doll just our size, with button eyes and locks of brown yarn for hair. Something massive slides toward us as Rian and Twig appear, and we fight the soft ceiling to move away from it. A giant hand pats the spot around the doll, finds it, and closes around it. It’s then that I put it all together.

  “Where are we?” whispers Rian.

  “I think,” I breathe, “we’re in Princess Margy’s bed.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Benen

  “Come now, your Highness, we can’t sleep the day away,” a muffled voice wafts from beyond the thick ceiling of blankets pressing on us.

  “That’ll be the nursemaid,” Twig whispers to us as we lie on our bellies, face to face, “Tirie. She’s alright.” There’s a great rustling and sliding that bounces us around as the princess sits up in bed.

  “Time to get dressed. His Royal Highness is waiting to breakfast with you.” The coverlet goes up and Margy peers wide-eyed at the space we occupy. Twig gives her a little wave and she beams back at him and beckons for him to come to her. He nods and holds up a finger. One moment. She nods and lowers the cover carefully.

  “Purple or blue today? Or pink?” The nurse comes to the bedside and I feel something light drop onto us.

  “Blue, blue, blue, please, but don’t put it there!” Margy cries a little urgently, and the newly added weight is lifted quickly away. “Who else will be at breakfast? Just Brother?” Between the heat that Margy is giving off and being sandwiched in between her bedclothes, I’m starting to sweat. I wipe my brow on my wrist and turn to the others.

  “If she’s going to breakfast with Eron,” Twig whispers, “I’d better go with her. I’ll meet up with you later,” he says. We nod, and Margy throws the covers off of us and glances at Twig, who flies up to rest on her shoulder. The rest of us remain unseen. We watch as the two follow the nursemaid out of the bedroom into what I can only assume is the dressing room.

  “That was an experience,” Rian says as he ruffles his hair and Flit drifts up and darts to the door to peek out.

  “Thought so,” she squeaks. “They’re coming to make up the bed! You have to move!” I peer over the edge of the bed and shove myself back to the center. It’s as high as the sea cliffs. Flit flies back and takes my hand with both of hers to help me down. My heart jumps into my throat and pounds so loudly I’m sure everyone else can hear it.

  “Don’t let go!” I screw my eyes closed as we lower to the floor. I hold my breath for what feels like hours until my feet meet the solid ground.

  “Whew! You’re heavier than you look!” she giggles and scoots under the bed skirt. Rian floats down gracefully to land beside us.

  “Levitation,” he wriggles his brows at me.

  “That would have been less traumatic,” I say as we join Flit under the bed just in time to avoid the attendants who’ve come to make it up.

  “Why are you so pale, Azi?” Flit whispers. Rian slips his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me reassuringly. “Even your lips are white.”

  “She doesn’t like heights,” he says, rubbing my arm.

  “Or flying,” I say. “Add flying to the list.”

  “The very, very short list of things you’re afraid of?” he grins as he ticks them off on his fingers. “Heights, Master Gaethon, and now, flying.” I elbow him and shake my head, and we laugh.

  “Shhh!” Flit waves her hands at us to be quiet as a maid’s foot pokes beneath the bed skirt.

  “They can’t hear us though, can they?” I whisper.

  “Well, you know how sometimes your thoughts get dreamy when you’re doing some mindless task?” Flit whispers. “And then you think you heard something, but nothing was there?” I nod. “It was probably something in the Half-Realm. So you have to hush. Just in case.”

  “I think it would be best,” Rian whispers. “If we return to our size if we’re going to walk home.” Flit nods.

  “I thought we could fly, but I forgot that it makes Azi go all white like that.” She sighs. “It’s too bad. Flying would have been so fun!”

  “We couldn’t anyway, here in Cerion,” I whisper. “Could we? We don’t have wings. He
re, Rian only knows how to levitate, not fly.”

  “You don’t need wings to fly, not even here if you’re in the Half-Realm.” She shrugs. “You just think about it and go up!”

  “Flit, we’re not in Kythshire anymore,” Rian whispers. “It doesn’t work like that for us here. Besides, if you don’t use your wings to fly, what purpose do they serve?” Flit stares at him in wide-eyed disbelief. She waves her wings elegantly, sending bright, dappled prisms of light across the polished wood floor under the bed.

  “Oh! Let’s play!” she whispers and claps her hands very quietly. “Our wings are our identity,” she says. “They catch the magic and hold it for us. They show everyone who we are and what we can do. Think about it. Twig has his stick wings that tell you he’s an Earth fairy. You know? Earth? Ground? Roots? Trees? Ember’s wings throw out sparks to tell you that she’s a Fire fairy. And Shush! Based on his wings, what do you think he is?” I don’t have to think long before the answer comes to me.

  “Wind,” I say. “Shush is a wind fairy.” Flit nods excitedly.

  “Good!” She whispers.

  “I can see it,” Rian murmurs. “It makes sense now. Spells are broken down the same way: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Light, and Dark.”

  “Course they are, I bet it’s starting to come together in your Magey head now, isn’t it? We share the Wellspring with you, so of course you’d have to follow the same laws we do.”

  “What about Crocus, though?” I say. “She didn’t have any wings.”

  “She does. Her roots are her wings. They come from her back and hold her close to Scree. They need each other, you see. Can’t have one without the other. I’ll tell you a secret, though. I like my wings much better. They’re awfully pretty. Don’t you think?” She turns her back to us and looks over her shoulder, showing them off. I shield my eyes from their brightness and Rian squints and nods.

  “Very,” he says. Above us, the bed making has finished and the door closes softly after the servants as they file out. “I think you win this round, fairy. We need to get going.” We crawl out from under the bed and Rian starts casting.

  “Remember,” Flit whispers to us as me and Rian grow to our normal height. “Be careful not to bump anyone or say anything too loud or sudden. The guards especially are always looking out. If they believe something is there, they’ll see you.”

  It’s surprisingly easy to move through the palace undetected. So much so that it makes me a little uncomfortable. Our intentions are good, but if someone with darker motives were to figure out how to get to the Half-Realm, they could cause real damage to the royal family. I make a note to myself as we secretly skirt around a gathering of guards to make the king and his advisors aware of it as soon as I’m able. We meet with a crowd gathered at the palace gates, waiting for entry, which proves a little more difficult to navigate through. Rian holds my hand tightly and pulls me along as he weaves us through the narrow openings between the subjects and we finally reach the safety of the forest park.

  “I like it here,” Flit whispers from her perch on my shoulder. “So pretty. Look at how the leaves are going golden and red.”

  “Well, it is Autumnsdawn,” I whisper, looking up into the treetops where the clear blue sky shows in patches beyond the gold and red. Beside me, Rian pauses. I follow his gaze through the trees to the guild hall. At first, I can’t tell what’s made him stop, but then I realize something is off. “No smoke.” My breath catches in my throat.

  “Hmm?” Flit asks.

  “Mouli’s fire is out. She’s always baking or cooking a stew,” he says. “And the hearth fire, that’s out, too.” Chills prickle at my arms. He’s right. Those two fires are always burning, even when the others aren’t lit. Even in the heat of midsummer, Luca keeps them well-stoked. I can’t remember a time when there hasn’t been smoke rising from the hall chimneys. Not only is it a warning to us, it’s also a signal to anyone passing by that the place has been left unoccupied. Immediately I think of my father, helplessly asleep in his bed.

  Rian and I look at each other, and without a word we break into a run for the hall. I can feel Flit clinging to my braid as we crash through the forest and out into the street to make for the main door of the guild hall. Rian reaches it first and finds it unlocked. He throws it open and we thunder inside, through the hallway to the main hall. He pushes that door open and we’re met with a scream as he nearly collides with Mouli. She reacts quickly, swinging her broom at us, sending a puff of soot as it meets Rian’s chest.

  “Rian! Azi!” she cries. “What do you mean, crashing through here like that? You’ll wake your father, let alone give this old woman a heart attack!”

  “Could be a boon,” Luca’s voice is muffled by the hearth. “High time he woke up.” A soot-stained oilcloth is spread on the floor before the great fireplace, piled with ashes and burned out coals. All we can see of Luca are his legs. The rest of him is up in the flue. There’s a scraping sound and a rush of soot falls down to the fireplace in a black puff. Flit lights on my shoulder again and she presses her face into my braid to cover the sound of her sneeze.

  “We saw the fires were out and we thought...” Rian’s voice trails off. It takes Mouli a moment to realize what he means, and when she does, she rushes to him and hugs him.

  “Oh of course you did, poor dears!” She pats my cheek. “No, no, all is well, all is well. It was just high time for a chimney sweep, that’s all. Have you had breakfast?” she wipes her hands on her blackened apron. “It’ll be cold, I’m afraid. We’re doing mine next.”

  “Wait, you can see us?” I ask before thinking. Flit tugs on my hair and shushes me and my eyes go wide as I realize I shouldn’t have said anything.

  “Well, of course I can, you’re standing right there, aren’t you?” She chuckles. “Come on, we’ll go to the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, Mouli,” Rian says, “but we’re not staying long. We just came to check on Benen.”

  “I’m afraid there’s not much change there,” she says sadly. “Like Luca said, he’s just been sleeping. I can’t even get him to sip some broth.” Her eyes light up. “I’ll make you a basket to take along with you when you go.” She nods to herself and rushes off, dusting off her apron as she goes. Luca ducks down and blinks at us, and his bright white eyes against the black soot smudged across his face remind me of Ember.

  “That came from the palace for you round about midday yesterday,” he lifts his chin toward the table and bends for a brush before disappearing into the flue again. I cross the hall, careful not to track any of the black dust with me, and pick up the note sealed with the prince’s crest. I crack it open and unfold it to read:

  Apprentice Rian Eldinae and Squire Azaeli Hammerfel

  of

  His Majesty’s Elite

  Your presence is requested at the palace at your earliest convenience

  regarding the King’s Quest, the progress of which

  your guild has neglected to make its report.

  Ordered on 22 Autumnsdawn

  by

  His Highness Prince Eron Plethore

  Heir to the Throne of Cerion

  Rian and I exchange a glance as he finishes reading over my shoulder. I tuck the parchment into my tunic. We’ve never neglected our duties in reporting the guild’s progress before. If the order had come from the king himself, I’d rush to the palace straight away. But this note tells me that Eron is probably still cursed, and growing impatient.

  “We’ll deal with it later,” he says.

  “I’m not worried about the prince,” I reply as I carefully step around the soot again. “His Majesty knows why we’re not reporting.” I’m reminded for a moment that Margy and Eron are having their breakfast together right now, and I’m concerned that he might take out his impatience on her, but I’m comforted by the knowledge that Twig is there for support.

  As Luca sets another rush of soot cascading from the chimney, we make our way out of the hall and I take the steps two at a t
ime to my father’s bedroom. He’s exactly as we left him the night of the ball; his blankets folded over neatly at his chest, his arms limp at his sides over them. I settle beside him on the bed and brush a lock of silvery-blond hair from his forehead. Flit drifts up and begins a fit of sneezes, each one sending a burst of light splashing across the room.

  “I’ll be back,” she says, and she darts out the window with her sneezes trailing behind her.

  “Ready?” Rian comes to stand beside me and raises his hands over the bed. “If you hold his hand, it might help him believe you’re here enough for you to appear for him. I think the waking spell alone will do that for me.”

  “Will he wake peacefully?” I ask, taking my father’s hand.

  Rian nods.

  “It won’t be like before,” he says. “He’s of sound mind now. They promised.” I nod and watch my father as Rian begins the incantation that will wake him. There’s a pause, and his eyelids flutter before his gray eyes find mine.

  “Lisabella,” he says hoarsely as his eyes search mine, and I see the hope in them fade as he realizes it’s me and not my mother. “Azi.”

  I smile, and relief washes over me.

  “Rian’s here, too,” I say, and he blinks up over my shoulder and nods, his expression slightly apologetic. Rian hands me a glass of water, which I press to Da’s lips. By the time he’s had three cups, I’m surprised to find that he’s strong enough to push himself up in bed to sit against the pillows.

  “She’s still there, then.” It’s a statement rather than a question. He sighs. “I was a fool to follow her across. Gaethon warned us, but I couldn’t bear to see her walk away from me, knowing it might be the last time...”

  “She’ll come home again, Da, when her work is done. I’m sure of it.” I think of the cyclones and try not to dwell on it. “Rian and I are going to see to it. We have a quest of our own now.” I watch Rian close the shutters and door, and place his wards against them.