“Oh, we exist, we exist. You southerners all seem to think anything that still resides in the north is extinct.” His head tilted the other way, and his eyes—which appeared too large for his face—narrowed. “What are you doing so far north, anyway? None of your kind ever comes this far up.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” Vehel continued, taking charge. He out of all of them had the most in common with the Fae, though they were very, very distant relatives. “We were in a difficult situation, and I was forced to use magic …”
“Magic! Magic!” the Fae exclaimed. “You’re not allowed to use magic. You’ve broken the Treaty.”
“Yes, we’re aware of that,” Orergon said, stepping forward. “That’s why we’re trying to get back, to make things right again.”
The Fae waved a long, pointed finger in their direction. “Once it’s broken, it can’t be put back together again.”
“We’re hoping people might not learn it’s been broken,” Warsgra growled.
“No, no. People always learn about these things. It’s like the earth itself has a mouth and can spread the truth of what’s happened on its surface.”
Debating this wasn’t important right now.
Warsgra wasn’t used to having to beg for anything, but these Fae might be able to help Dela, and if they could, he’d get on his knees and grovel. “Please, our friend does need help. She’s been paralyzed by a venom. Is there anything you can do to help? We have Elvish steel we can trade you if you’re willing.”
His eyes narrowed again. “Since when do the likes of Norcs, and Elvish, and Moerians give up their things in order to help a human?”
“Since now,” he insisted.
The Fae’s long fingers went to his mouth, tapping on his lips as he considered their offer. “Hmm. I can’t make this decision alone. I have to consult with the rest of my family.”
He turned from them, and Warsgra saw twin diaphanous wings protruding from slits cut in the back of the little jacket he wore. Then the Fae placed his fingers between his lips and let out a shrill whistle.
Others came out to join him, heads peeping around from corners and out of windows. So they’d been here all along, they just hadn’t wanted to make themselves known, trusting in the protection of the force field they’d created around themselves.
The male Fae beckoned them. “Come, come. You heard what they said. What do you think we should do?”
“I don’t trust them,” someone said.
“That one is too big!” called out another.
“No, no, Cirrus,” the original Fae replied. “That’s just the way the Norcs come. They all look like that.”
“Ugly as sin,” the Fae called Cirrus muttered under his breath.
Warsgra felt himself bristle, but he clamped his jaw down on his anger. They needed the Fae more than the Fae needed them.
“They have Elvish steel, though,” another pointed out. “Think of all the lovely things we could make with that.”
There was lots of hmming, and chin rubbing in consideration of that fact.
“Very well,” the leader said eventually. “We’ll let you in and try to help the woman, but you must leave all your weapons outside of our shield.”
Warsgra exchanged looks with Orergon and Vehel. Both nodded their agreement.
“Agreed.” Warsgra pulled his axe from where it was wedged into his belt and dropped it to the ground. He didn’t like the thought of not being armed, but these creatures were a fraction of his size, and he couldn’t really see what harm they could do. Besides, he needed them to help Dela. The Fae were known for their magical abilities, though it was thought the race had died out years ago. Maybe they’d be able to stop the effect of the venom.
Vehel dropped his bow and quiver of arrows to the ground, and Orergon handed Dela back to Warsgra. He pulled his spear from its holder slung across his back and threw that down, too.
The Fae leader closed his eyes briefly, muttered something under his breath, and swirled his hand in a circle. His eyes opened again. “It is done. You may enter now.”
Despite being told the force field was down, Warsgra still didn’t fully trust it. He put out his hand as he stepped forward, tentatively feeling for the thing he’d bashed his nose on. But the Fae leader was right. The shield had gone.
“What’s your name?” Warsgra asked the little person.
The Fae straightened, his hands on his hips, his chin lifted. “Nimbus Darkbriar.”
“I’m Warsgra Tuskeye,” he said, tapping his chest. “This is Orergon Ortiz, and Vehel Dawngleam. The woman is called Dela Stonebridge.”
Nimbus sniffed. “Yes, yes. I’d say I was pleased to meet you, but I guess we’ll see about that. Now bring the young woman this way, and we’ll see what we can do.”
“You won’t get the armor if you can’t help her,” Warsgra warned.
“Understood, understood.”
Nimbus ran off toward his house. Warsgra eyed up the size of the doorway. That was definitely going to be a squeeze. But he needed to get Dela inside, so he was going to do it, even if his shoulders took off the doorframe.
Bending at the knees, he huddled over the top of Dela, making himself as small as possible without crushing her. Then he pushed his way through the door to find himself in an equally tiny kitchen. It had a country cottage style, completely unlike any home a Norc had ever occupied. Luckily, the ceiling was higher than the door, so he got to his knees so he was at least able to straighten the rest of his torso. The others followed him in, Orergon struggling almost as much as he had, and Vehel only a little less. The compact kitchen had quickly become crammed with people, and to make matters worse, a number of the Fae followed them in as well.
“Put her on the table,” Nimbus said. “I can get a better look at her there.”
Warsgra did as he instructed and laid Dela across the wooden surface. Her legs hung off one end, and her hair the other. She looked so peaceful resting there, her eyes still shut, like a fairytale princess in a storybook. Would those eyes ever open again?
“You said she was stung?”
“Yes, by a huge yellow and black fly. It lives in tunnels dug into the river bank.”
“Ah, the Hunter fly. Yes, yes, we know of it.”
“Can you help?”
He nodded. “First we must find the sting. It will still be embedded in her body somewhere. The reason she hasn’t woken is because the sting continues to release new venom long after the initial attack.”
Warsgra felt wrong checking her over, as though he was invading her personal space. It wasn’t that he hadn’t pictured how she looked beneath that tunic, but he’d imagined her being a little more conscious when the time came.
But there was nothing sexual in what they were doing. Methodically, they pulled aside her clothing, rolling up sleeves and checking any exposed parts of her skin.
Nimbus pulled down the front of her tunic to expose her collarbone and froze. “What is this?”
At first Warsgra thought he’d found the sting, but then he realized Nimbus was talking about something else entirely. He was pointing to the ring Dela wore on a piece of leather around her throat.
“It’s a ring,” Orergon said from behind them. “I think someone special from home gave it to her.”
“It’s a Dragonstone ring,” Nimbus replied.
Warsgra frowned. “A what?”
“Dragonstone. They should only ever be worn by certain people, and those people were supposed to have died off hundreds of years ago.”
“Like the Fae, you mean,” Vehel quipped.
Nimbus frowned at him. “You should not laugh, no, no. Those who are able to wear the Dragonstone ring are destined to be the most powerful of them all. They have the sight.”
“The what?”
Nimbus sighed as though his lack of knowledge was frustrating. “The ability to project through the eyes of the most powerful creature Xantearos has ever known.”
“Which is?”
“The dragon.”
Warsgra burst into laughter. “There aren’t any dragons anymore. There haven’t been since before the Treaty.”
“You’re wrong, you’re wrong. They’ve simply learned to go unseen. Has she found her ability yet?”
Warsgra shook his head, frowning. “We don’t know anything about her. She’s just a woman we got caught up with in the Southern Pass. She looked to be leading the human convoy, but otherwise she hasn’t spoken much about her home. She definitely hasn’t mentioned anything about dragons.”
“She didn’t want to give up that ring, though,” Orergon pointed out. “Remember her reaction when it was suggested that we use it as barter for horses or food?”
The Fae crossed his arms across his chest. “You need to take her to Drusga.”
“Drusga?” Vehel asked. “The Valley of the Dragons?”
“Yes, yes. You’re Elvish, and you used magic. You broke the Treaty, and a second Great War may be starting. If war is coming, she might be the only one who can put an end to it before the races destroy each other for good.”
Vehel’s lips pressed together, lines appearing across his normally smooth brow. “Drusga is at the farthest point north of Xantearos. We’d be going in the wrong direction.”
Nimbus shrugged. “So you continue to head south, and when you get there you discover war has broken out because of what you did, and then how will you stop it? By using your axes and spears? Or do you travel north and discover if this woman with the Dragonstone ring is able to project through the dragons, and use them to stop the war?”
Warsgra stared around at the others, unsure what to do. They looked as baffled as he was at this new development. He was a practical man. He dealt with food, and fighting, and fucking—not the likes of magic and dragons, and mystic stones. The idea of making decisions about girls who might or might not be wearing magical stones and could control dragons that were believed long dead was way out of his comfort zone.
“How are we supposed to believe all of this simply because the woman is wearing something called a Dragonstone?” he said.
“You don’t, you don’t. I suppose we had better wake her up and find out.” Nimbus continued to check her over. He rolled Dela to her side, and lifted up her hair. “Ah, here we are.”
There, right at the base of her neck, was the sting. It was embedded into her flesh, only the bulbous tip, which Warsgra assumed contained the venom, protruding.
“We must be very careful,” said Nimbus. “If we accidentally squeeze all the venom into her body, she will die.”
Warsgra’s mouth grew dry at the thought. “Please, do whatever you can.”
The Fae closed his eyes and waved his hand over the place of the sting. He muttered in a language Warsgra didn’t understand, and slowly the sting began to retract from Dela’s flesh, until it eventually popped out and dropped to the table.
Warsgra knocked it to the floor with his hand, and then stomped on it with his booted foot.
“What now?” he asked.
The Fae’s lips twisted. “Now, we wait.”
Chapter 24
Dela
Something was pulling her from the skies, and she didn’t want to go. Why would she? Wasn’t this where she was meant to be?
But she had no choice. The pull was too strong, and she was sucked downward, as though trapped in a whirlpool. The blue sky and cloud vanished into darkness, and suddenly that was all she was aware of, a spinning, dizzying darkness …
Dela burst from her dream, sitting upright and gasping for breath.
She had no idea where she was, her mind still spinning. Her vision was fuzzy, and she could only make out blurred shapes around her. A hard surface lay beneath her body, and the air no longer smelled of wet mud and rotting foliage, which was the last thing she remembered. She blinked a couple of times and then rubbed her hand over her eyes. When she brought it away again, things became clearer, and she found herself inside a quaint little kitchen. She wasn’t alone. Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel were all standing over her, watching her with matching expressions of concern. They weren’t alone either, as she spotted a number of tiny people dotted among them—people with red hair and pointy ears, and hideously sharp teeth when they smiled.
“What happened?” she said, finding her voice. “Where am I?”
Orergon stepped forward, coming to a halt at her shoulder. “You were stung by a Hunter fly and it paralyzed you. The Fae here were able to remove the sting, so you woke up.”
“Fae?” She frowned.
“Yes, this is Nimbus Darkbriar. He was the one who helped us.”
“Thank you,” she managed. She’d believed the Fae no longer existed, but she’d clearly been wrong about that. Just as she’d been wrong that the Norcs were uncouth animals, and the Elvish were standoffish, and the Moerians were savages. She’d been wrong about a lot of things. “Thank you to all of you, too, for coming after me. You didn’t need to do that.”
Warsgra frowned at her. “We weren’t going to just leave you.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d given up.”
She spotted Vehel standing a little way back and caught his eye. “You went into the tunnel for me,” she said, remembering him being there, even though she’d been trapped inside her own body and unable to communicate with him. “That was incredibly brave of you.”
Her words brought a tinge of pink to his pale cheeks, and he nodded at her, refined as always. “You’d have done the same for me, I’m sure.”
A small smile tweaked her lips. “Let’s hope we don’t ever have to find out.”
They were all staring at her, but there was something different in their eyes, something she couldn’t quite place.
“What? What is it?”
The male Fae jumped up and down, clapping. “Oh, tell her! Go on, tell her.”
She frowned in confusion. “Tell me what?”
Orergon touched the back of her hand, and she glanced down at where their skin met, and then back up into his dark eyes. “Where did you get the ring you wear around your neck?”
She reached up and touched it, as she often did. “My brother gave it to me to take care of, right before he left as part of the Chosen three years ago. I assumed I’d give it back to him when he returned, but he never came back.”
“Do you know what that ring is made from?”
Her confusion deepened. “I don’t know. It’s just a ring, isn’t it? Metal, with a pretty stone in the middle. It isn’t anything precious. Our family could never afford anything like the gold and diamonds you exchange during the Passover.”
“You’re wrong,” Nimbus said. “Only someone with the sight is able to have that ring anywhere near their skin.”
She gestured to its place at her throat. “But I’m not even wearing it. It’s just around my neck.”
“It doesn’t matter. Having it that close to your skin would be impossible unless you have something of a Dragonsayer in you. Watch.” He turned to the nearest person to him, Orergon. “Try to take the ring from around her neck.”
Orergon frowned but did as instructed. He reached out, his fingers closing around the metal. But then he let out a yell and pulled back his hand.
Dela stared in amazement as smoke rose from the ring, and Orergon held out his hand to show red marks on his fingertips, the skin already rising in a blister.
Nimbus couldn’t contain his excitement. “See, see! It will burn anyone who isn’t a Dragonsayer.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “A what?”
“You’re a Dragonsayer,” Nimbus continued, “and that ring is Dragonstone. You have the sight.”
“I don’t have anything,” she protested. “I’m just a regular human.”
“Then how do you explain the ring?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s enchanted.”
Vehel shook his head. “It’s isn’t, Dela. I’d be able to tell. The Fae is right.”
“You must have seen something
already,” Nimbus said. “Even if it’s just glimpses through the dragon’s eyes. The volcanoes and hot pools of Drusga, perhaps.”
“No, nothing like that.” But then she remembered her reoccurring dream. But that was normal, wasn’t it? Everyone had dreams like that. People always dreamed they were flying.
But all the time? A little voice whispered in her head. Every time they close their eyes?
She shook her head. “This is madness. And anyway, all the dragons are dead, and they have been for hundreds of years. Everyone knows that.”
“Just like everyone knows the Fae don’t exist anymore,” Nimbus muttered, rolling his eyes. “When are you people going to learn? You each have your own lands, laid out by the Treaty, and none of you ever venture any farther. Xantearos is a vast country, and there are plenty of places to hide for the creatures who no longer wish to be known to exist.”
She couldn’t get her head around it. If this was the truth, what did it mean for her? And did it mean her brother had been the same way? She tried to recall if he’d ever talked about dreaming of flying. They’d spoken of many things, but she wasn’t sure if that had been one of them. Years had passed since he’d died, and her memories of him felt faded, like a painting left hung too long directly in the sun. There were certain things she was able to pick out clearly—such as the day he’d found a silver coin on the street, and they’d been able to buy enough food to last them a week, and had gone laughing and running down the street, their arms full of paper bags—but most times had blurred together. But she remembered how he used to wear the ring. Remembered it clearly. Perhaps he didn’t talk of his dreams, but the ring had certainly never caused him any harm.
“My brother must not have known what it was,” she said. “I’m not even sure where he got it, only that he always wore it.”
“That doesn’t matter for the moment. But what you have inside you is a great power. It’s not to be pushed to one side.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t a coincidence. This has been destined, I’m sure.” The Fae turned his attention to the men. “I can tell by the way each of you hold yourselves that you’re important men among your own people.”
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