by Renee Wildes
“Well, here we are taking the first steps toward making Pryseis’ vision of peace a reality,” Brannan noted. “Who could have seen elf, troll, goblin and faerie together in a single room, talking of cooperation and trade?”
“She did, long ago. And everyone laughed and called it impossible.” Dax shook his head. “I shall never doubt the power of a dream, a hope, a wish again.”
“What do you think they shall do her when you return?”
“They said they’d ignore her, forever.” Dax clenched his jaw. “Analahamme.”
“Even after the miracle she wrought?”
“Councilor Maeve isn’t exactly the forgiving type.”
“Can she not be overruled?”
Dax considered that, then shook his head and sighed. “Faeries aren’t rebels. They take pride in everything staying the same as always. Our kin being the exception. The other faeries consider it a defect peculiar to our bloodline, that we’re never content to just follow, accept.”
“And the trolls?” Brannan pressed. “Do you wish to stay servants forever?”
“At least it gives us purpose, focus. ’Tis been a long time since we trolls existed for ourselves. None living remember the time afore the goblins. The faeries are better masters than the goblins were.”
“I think it wrong the trolls have masters at all.”
Dax laughed, the bitter edge audible to his own ears. “One rebellion at a time, elf.”
“So what now, troll? You have had ample time to slay me, were you so inclined.” Brannan studied him carefully and took a deep breath. “I have seen the man behind the mask. You are no murderer, for all I said earlier. The barrier let you through. Anika misled you. It is not bespelled to repel goblins and trolls. It only permits the passage of those pure in heart and intent.”
Unbelievable. “It almost killed me!” Dax snarled.
Brannan shook his head. “Your own fear and mistrust caused you pain. Had you believed, trusted, you would have felt naught more than you did when you left.”
Dax clenched a fist and drew it back, but did not strike. “I had no reason to believe or trust an enemy.”
“And now? Are we enemies? Do we go back to the way things were?”
Dax looked around the room. Goblin faces stared back at him, but now the faces had names, kin. Mog. His mother Tik. His aunt and uncle, Jem and Tark. “The enemy” was just people, who bled and grieved, hoped and helped. His heart and mind had been opened, and he was not the same man he was afore. There was no going back.
He shook his head. “I can’t. After this I could almost call you friend.”
“Almost?” Brannan snorted. “I think we already are.” He held out a hand, and Dax grasped it. “You could return with me to Poshnari-Unai.”
“In what capacity?”
“As a representative of Crystal Mountain,” Pryseis said.
Dax hadn’t heard her and Benilo approach. Mercifully, Pryseis was wrapped in his cloak. They joined him and Brannan on the mats.
“I go with Pryseis to her home,” the former healer said. “Seems fitting for one of hers to travel to mine.”
Leave all he kenned behind to travel to the elven capital? Dax’s hearts stuttered with trepidation, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. His gaze met Pryseis’ and she nodded and smiled.
Ren walked over to them, on bandy legs that made his hunched form seem to toddle. “I’d like to thank you, on behalf of my clan and people.” He paused whilst Pryseis translated for the elves. “They’ve voted me leader, and I’d accept your token of friendship on their behalf.”
Pryseis beamed at him as she handed him the amulet. It looked odd hanging around a goblin neck, sparkling with a light all its own. “You’re a most welcome friend.”
Ren sat with them. “I’ve a couple of requests. Problems I need help with.”
“What are they?” Dax asked.
“First, the staff. It can’t stay here. We’ve all seen how dangerous it can be in the wrong hands. I’m told you think ’tis dwarven.”
Benilo nodded. “We have a dwarven metal mage who shall be joining us on Crystal Mountain. If you wish, I can deliver it to her, to return to her people.”
“It belongs in the hands of a shaman,” Dax said. “One who’ll use it for good and not ill.”
“Pahn shall see to it,” Brannan assured him. “She came to our aid, and she passed the barrier test, Dax. You can trust her to do the right thing.”
“What’s your other concern, Ren?”
“The child Mog and his dam, Tik. They’re without a household leader with the death of Med. With the death of Quark there’s none left to teach the lad. She’s mateless, a creature of misfortune to our people.”
“That’s not her fault!” Pryseis protested.
“We are mated but once, to the one who invokes our change,” Ren stated. “Should they die, there is no other.”
Dax gripped her arm in warning. “’Tis their way, aunt. Females can’t be untended, and children of a certain age must be apprenticed out to learn adult skills and to increase their chances of meeting a compatible soul and going through the change to become a mated adult.”
“He could come with us,” Pryseis suggested. “I’d like to teach Mog to shield, so he won’t be so susceptible to harmful influence. It’d be a good start. The trolls can’t possibly see a child and a female as a threat. We could learn your stories and they could learn ours.” She turned to Dax. “Same as you could learn the elves’ and they could learn yours. Knowledge shared, in peace. Learn each others’ stories, cultures, language. How better to reinforce that we’re all just people?”
Ren nodded. “It might just work. We’ll work what influence we can with the other clans, to see if trade’s possible. Light sources would be a good start.”
“You’ll have a fight on your hands,” Dax warned. “I fought under Grigg. He won’t take well to peace.”
“Grigg may well find himself outnumbered. Many of us tire of sending our sons off to die in needless raids. Every death’s one less potential parent or mate. There are other ventures than dying. Exploration, trade.”
Never had Dax envisioned such. He’d never doubt possibilities again.
Never had Benilo felt so glad to feel the sun on his face, the wind in his hair. The caverns were a crushing weight, threatening to steal the very breath from his body until he could escape to the outside. Pryseis gripped his hand as he gasped for air at the cave entrance.
“I ken what you feel,” she told him. The Light in her soul warmed his heart. And she truly did, being as uncomfortable with the solidity of the earth as he was. But his gut churned at the foreignness of the earth and metal elements. Once he had nurtured them as a part of his soul. Now they were forever beyond his reach.
New Moon soared overhead. Laughter on the wind swirled around him, whispered in his ear a tickle of sound he could not quite make into words. They slid through his sieve-like shields as if they did not exist. He did his best to ignore the voices as he followed Dax down the treacherous slope, Pryseis in his wake. He felt her wings tingle at the touch of the sun’s rays, turning toward the light like an opening flower. Mog and Tik followed with Brannan bringing up the rear. At the base of the mountain, they gathered to put on more clothing. Pryseis’ tunics all but dragged around Tik’s and Mog’s ankles, but hers were the smallest garments they had. Brannan shared with Benilo since they were nearly of the same size. Dax tore his extra cloak in two to share with the goblins, who squinted in the filtered sunlight.
How on earth would they manage the blinding sunlight at the top of Crystal Mountain?
Odd how the hollowness in his soul yearned for that mountain. Sun and wind, calling to him, pulling at him with every breath.
“Easy,” Pryseis whispered in his mind. “I’m here. Hang on, love.” Her love, the Light in her soul, eased the ache, blunted the desperation to tolerable levels.
“How do you stand it?” he asked.
“’Tis all I ken
,” she replied. “To me, there’s naught missing. It fills me.” She threw her arms wide and head back and twirled in place. “The voices remind me we aren’t alone in the world. Every hope and wish and dream is someone’s heart and thoughts. ’Tis wondrous—a miracle.”
His head spun from her dizziness. “Cease afore you fall down.” He caught her in his arms as she staggered into him. “You are the miracle,” he whispered, capturing the lush sweetness of her lips with his.
“You’ll be better when we reach the top of the mountain. Then you’ll see.”
But the mountain of his salvation was not hers. Her dread at her homecoming was a weight squeezing his own heart. He shared a quick look with Dax. The troll’s jaw tightened. Pryseis should not be punished for the faerie council’s small-mindedness. Benilo compared his own situation to hers. King Loren had not sanctioned his leaving, but he did not oppose it, either, and welcomed Pryseis.
He had a feeling Pryseis would face a rather different reception. Analahamme. Ostracism by people you loved, whom you could see and hear, but who pretended not to see or hear you. Ignoring every look and word like you did not exist. Bound by a pool for your very life, sharing it with those who looked right through you.
Surely it would not come to that. It had to be an empty threat. Pryseis had succeeded where they had failed. She turned back the darkness and made new friends. What would her old friends make of her new friends, Mog and Tik? Benilo smiled at the goblin lad, who stared at the world in amazement.
“’Tis all so…green,” the child marveled. He reached out to touch the rough bark of a black oak tree trunk.
“Here.” Pryseis bent down to pick some violets, and handed them to Tik. “Smell.”
The goblin did and smiled in her snaggle-toothed way. “Sweet.”
“You can eat them,” Dax offered.
Tik frowned up at him. “Too pretty.” She clutched her flowers protectively.
“How can she stand the thought of being mateless for the rest of her life?” Pryseis asked. Benilo felt the weight of her sorrow. “Why does that make her less in their eyes? She’s a wonderful person.”
“Well, now she is not alone. She has us.” Benilo smiled. The camaraderie and the sun warmed his heart. He tried to see the world through Mog’s eyes. The sounds of bird song and rushing water, the scents of pine and flowers, the bright colors of blue jays and red cardinals and yellow or orange butterflies, the scolding of squirrels and raucous crows. So different from the palatial darkness of the caverns the lad once called home.
Brannan moved up to join the goblins. “Hold out your hand and stand very still,” he whispered, placing a bit of trail cake in Mog’s hand. Benilo felt a slight calling and a tiny black-capped grey bird swooped down to land on the lad’s hand. There was wonder on the child’s face as the bird pecked at the crumbs until there were none left and then flew off.
“Mother, did you see?” Mog turned to Tik.
She hastily wiped away her tears. “I did.” She nodded to Brannan, who returned the gesture.
His former apprentice felt much more at peace. He had grown in the past few days. Benilo hardly recognized him. “Your Majesty?”
King Loren’s presence flared. “How are you?”
“I am…well,” Benilo tried. “Better than I was. I think you shall be pleasantly surprised at your brother’s attitude when you see him. I believe he has finally laid some ghosts to rest. You should talk to him afore you hang him in the courtyard by his toes.”
“I shall take that under advisement.” Loren’s tone was laced with humor. “The mages shall join you at camp tonight.”
“As you wish.” Benilo felt the king withdraw. “We shall have company tonight,” he announced. He turned to Dax, and indicated the staff the troll carried. “You can finally give that to its rightful caretaker.”
“Good.” Dax frowned. “It makes my skin itch.”
So did the voices on the wind. Why could he not shut them out? His shields were all but useless. He ignored them, the insidious, incessant whispers, but they tickled in the back of his mind until a slow headache built up, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening until he could barely move his head. He focused on the sunlight, until it faded into the darkness of the coming night. He stumbled along grimly, until he all but plowed into trees.
“We have to stop,” Pryseis called.
Dax turned back, shaking his head. “There’s a better place up ahead, closer to water.”
“I am fine,” Benilo gritted out.
“Nay, you’re not,” Pryseis retorted. “I feel your pain. We’re stopping now.” She dropped to the ground, a stubborn expression on her face. Mog and Tik followed suit.
Brannan approached. Benilo’s vision was so blurred at this point, the only way he recognized his former apprentice was by the flash of long, pale hair. The prince reached out to place gentle fingertips against Benilo’s forehead.
“Dracken rue, and you call me a fool?” Brannan scolded. “Sit down afore you fall down. You cannot even see. Try tilting your head…right…left…turn…right…left…”
Benilo tried, he truly did. He barely heard Brannan’s orders. Flashes of lightning seared him with each attempt to move. Only by staying perfectly still was it bearable, the pain.
“You are as tight as stone,” the prince-healer said. “Down, now.” He rolled out his bedding in but a moment and helped Benilo onto it. He placed his fingers against Benilo’s temples, and a warm glow suffused his hands, coursing through his aching head. Benilo closed his eyes and tried to still his mind, relax his body. It just made the voices louder. Brannan pushed with a touch more energy, enough to blunt them, enough to dull the pain a bit.
“Pryseis? I need you here.” Brannan waited until the faerie settled next to them. Benilo caught her faint, sweet scent, and the Light in her soul merged with his. “That is good,” Brannan said. “Benilo, your elemental shields are gone. You must learn to rebuild them, using naught but air. I do not ken how to do that. Pryseis, can you shield both of you? I can bind it, but I cannot create it.”
“Nay,” Benilo protested. Such a move would quickly burn up his mate’s reserves. “Do not do this. I forbid you to do this.”
Pryseis snorted. “As if I was ever obedient.”
Warmth enveloped Benilo, and the voices faded to naught. Brannan whispered a simple command and the shield locked into place. Peace. Light. Love. Pryseis curled around him, through him, in him. Heart and soul. Deeper than afore. As if he were truly part of her and she of him. Memories assailed him: her childhood, her parents, her brother. Standing at his side against the sanctimonious Maeve. Watching over a young Dax growing up, the tragedy of her brother’s death. The endless council meetings and net-casting. The beginning of the nightmares, the threat of banishment.
Her fear they might actually make it so.
Her love for him. Her fear that he might come to resent her part in his new circumstance. That fear he determined to lay at rest. “Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms as if Brannan were not there. “I regret naught I have done. What lies ahead is a new adventure, and I welcome sharing it with you.”
Her tension eased a bit, but she had gleaned his memories too. “You’ll be missed back home. There are none who can do what you could.”
“Then we shall have to pool our resources and work together,” Brannan stated. “There are a few who could become stronger than they are. I think we have come to depend on Benilo to lead for so long we have gotten lazy, letting him do more than his fair share of the work for far too long. I intend to start visiting the house of healing when I return. Dax has spoken of battle. It is past time I stop hiding and start facing my duties as a true healer. Starting with you, my lord.”
Benilo raised a brow. “Who are you and what did you do with Prince Brannan?”
“Very funny,” Brannan said. “Close your eyes and empty your mind of all thought.”
Benilo obeyed, reaching for the Great Empty that had el
uded him for so long. No forest, no Pryseis. No past. No future. No present. A vast sea of…naught. No thought. No emotion. Peace. Stillness. A slight, warm glow enveloped his mind, barely noticeable. The tension just eased away as he sank into the warmth, his muscles unlocking one by one. The headache was gone. He felt more balanced and at peace than he had in weeks, mayhaps months. “Well done, healer,” he told Brannan. “I believe you are ready for your Journeyman trial and robes.”
“See if this potion works first,” Brannan said. “Now the muscles are relaxed enough that massage might actually help.” He helped Benilo sit up and remove his tunic. The air was cool but not unbearable. The others set up camp around them. Dax was nowhere to be seen. “Hunting,” Brannan informed him. He pulled out a vial Benilo had never seen afore. “It is something new I have been working on, a hotroot infusion that is self-heating. Worked wonders on that injury I got last month.”
Attempting to ride his late brother Deane’s temperamental chestnut stallion, Torgon. Brannan had pulled several muscles in that tumble. Benilo sniffed, recognizing several herbs and roots, but the combination was indeed unique. If Brannan was inventing potions and they worked, he was not far from Master status. “Well, at least I shall not be the first experimental victim,” he teased, lying face down on his cloak. The potion was a wonder of pain relief and heat, and Brannan’s hands were steady and sure. A trickle of Light added to the soothing treatment, until Benilo felt himself drifting off.
“Sleep,” Pryseis whispered. “Rest.”
He awoke in the faded grey of deep twilight, to the smell of roasting meat, unexpectedly unsettling to his stomach. Dax had been successful—a yearling swamp buck was spitted over the fire, which danced against the dark, and the troll and goblins made a fine feast of it. Brannan and Pryseis shared a salad of greens and blossoms. She looked up first and smiled. “Welcome back.”
