Tayvin’s boots hit the ground next to Drynn. “I hit the cat. The blood came from the cat. Get off my brother before he suffocates.”
Cindle backed away, leaving Drynn to gasp more efficiently.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot how delicate you people are.” Her tone was softer, almost sheepish.
Drynn tried to tell her he was fine, but his voice was weak—not very convincing.
Tayvin crouched by Drynn as if to shield him from her, hands going white around his bow and a too-tight smile. He ducked his head, as he would for any other lady. “Thank you, miss, for your . . . concern. Drynn and I will be fine now.”
“Sure you will. I feel safer already.” She rolled her eyes and stomped through the trees, daring any other monsters to come out and try their hand.
Tayvin shook his head, hard angles relaxing into a true smile as he turned back around. “Well, now you’ve met a dorran. Just as fun as I remember.” He peered at Drynn closer. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Drynn nodded, panting, not finding the words to defend Cindle though he felt he should.
“Good,” Tayvin said. “Because I think I need to yell at you. You were supposed to be pointing out a tree. What exactly have you been doing out here?”
Tears streamed down Kyrah’s cheeks as she stood on the other side of the fallen tree, talking to the other ranger—Tayvin’s trainer. She wouldn’t even look at Drynn. He couldn’t blame her for that. If Drynn were a ranger, like them, he might have known to keep his bow with him no matter what. And if Drynn had shot the beast, as Tayvin had, maybe then he would have a right to help with the crying later, instead of feeling it were his fault somehow.
Watching her hurt more than the pain in his back. He might never talk to a girl again.
Drynn turned back to Tayvin, standing at his side. “Did Kyrah find you?”
Tayvin nodded and shrugged. “We were already around. Your group has got to be the slowest by far, so we wanted to know what the problem was. Have they been doing this the whole time?” He gestured to the dorrans, already picking a fight with Kyrah and the older ranger about how to retrieve the elk and move the wood back to the mines.
The inner fighting seemed absurd now. Completely displaced. “It doesn’t take much to get them going, but the panther has everyone worked up. Cindle said there have been raids near the mines with all sorts of monsters like that. Have you ever heard—?”
“No, but we should definitely report this one before we leave. Even if we killed it already.”
“We” hadn’t killed it. Tayvin had. And he already seemed to be shrugging it off, another forest problem he could waltz through with a smile on his face.
Drynn couldn’t kill a panther, but he would still be expected to face the unknown dangers of a human kingdom, so different from his home.
And if the dorran mines were any proof, different was far more terrifying than exciting. Better to leave it wrapped in a book than experience it firsthand.
“Maybe one of us can go ahead to tell everyone about the panther. I’ll ask Jyrail. He’s senior.” Tayvin said the words and bobbed his head, but Drynn already knew how that talk would go. Tayvin would say it and Jyrail would listen. It didn’t matter who was actually supposed to be in charge.
“Tell Jyrail to take Kyrah with him.” It might be the only thing Drynn could control.
“Good idea,” Tayvin said, already walking away. “We can get the elk back and move the rest of this lot ourselves.”
All by themselves. Completely terrifying.
“Hi, elf prince.”
Drynn jumped at Cindle’s voice. A dorran had snuck up on him. How was that possible? He would lose every skill he thought he had before the night was over. “I have a name.”
“Not one I can pronounce,” Cindle said. “So it’s going to be elf prince or Allen unless you give me something else.”
“Allen?” Drynn scrunched his face, annoyance fading at the new idea. His name might be a mouthful, but it couldn’t be any harder than anyone else’s. “It’s Drynn.”
“That’ll work.” Cindle sat down next to Forgemaster Jorrey who had been whittling a piece of fallen wood, waiting for the others to sort things out so they could return home. “That your brother? He’s pretty. How do you stand all the prancing?”
Drynn frowned. Everyone in the forest liked Tayvin. Dorrans were so different. He opened his mouth, curiosity spurring him on. “Can I talk to you?”
“I had my doubts before, but you’re not stuttering yet, so I’d say it was a good start.”
Drynn blinked, then shook his head. “No, I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh, she definitely likes you. Just go talk to her later. Even if she’s still crying, stay quiet, and she’ll think you’re sweet for listening.”
What?
Cindle smiled, angling her head at Kyrah. The elven girl walked with the other ranger, but shot a glance over her shoulder at them before disappearing behind the trees. “You don’t have any sisters, do you?” Cindle asked. “Just pretty-boy. Ask your mother then.”
His mother.
Drynn went rigid, swallowing any attempt to tell Cindle he had already given up on women.
The forgemaster looked up from her whittling. “Cindle.”
Cindle slapped her forehead, jogging a memory. “The elf queen who died, that was your mother.”
Jorrey went back to carving as if the acknowledgment were enough to cover the blunder. “That’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Your mother. She’s not one of Starrillaylee’s heirs or the royal line. Her title came from marriage only.”
Now she sounded like his father. “She’s still my mother.”
“You misunderstand me. I did not mean to diminish your loss, only to note how irregular it is. What did you want to ask us?”
“Yes. Irregular.” Drynn took back his previous thought. The dorrans were worse than his father—harder than the rocks they mined, just like Tayvin had said. Which made them more of a mystery. “Why did you help me?”
Cindle paused as if he had stumbled into sensitive territory, reversing their positions.
Then she shrugged. “Like I said, I’m paranoid. We all are now. And you remind me of my brother. Quiet. Just started noticing girls, and that kid could blush.” A touch of a smile brushed her lips, but then she waved her hand as if to push the memory away. “’Course, he wasn’t a prince so girls didn’t chase him around. Gets a couple hairs on his face, and he thinks he belongs on the battlefront. Don’t need to tell you how that turned out . . . Or do I have to tell you?”
Drynn’s heart fell to his boots. Losing his mother had not prepared him to know how to comfort someone else, but he had to try. He knelt next to her. If she were an elf, he might have touched her, but her hard look stopped him short.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. We don’t know much outside of the forest, but I want to learn. Not just about the monsters, but the humans and . . . everything.”
Cindle flinched from the apology. “What do you want to know about humans for? They’re too busy fighting each other to worry about you and your ‘haunted forest.’ That’s how you like it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but . . .” How could he word his question without giving too much away? “Well . . . I-it’s just—I had a question. If an elf were to talk with a human . . .”
“Did you find a human wandering in the forest or something?”
“No, just if I were to meet one, how could I ask them something about—I mean, would they answer me if I asked them something?”
“Asked what? You’re getting to be as irritating as your brother. If you want something from us, ask us straight out.”
Fine. He had never been good at keeping secrets anyway. “My brother and I want to travel to the human lands to learn more about an illness in our holt. But we don’t know much about the humans either, so—”
“You’re going to leave the forest? Both of you?”
Silence fol
lowed, pushing for Drynn to deny the words, but it hadn’t been his idea. It was Tayvin’s—not something so easily dismissed or altered.
Cindle shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Sounds like your peacock of a brother is out to make a name for himself. If you really want to know about healing, you should just—”
Jorrey put her hand on Cindle’s shoulder, interrupting. Drynn had almost forgotten the older woman was there, but she was looking at him, sizing him up like the wood they had harvested. “Cindle, learn a little tact. He’s an elven prince. If he thinks leaving the forest is best for his people, then I’m certain he has thought through all the consequences of his actions, as should we.” She stared hard at Cindle, passing something unspoken between them.
Drynn frowned, searching for the hidden message. “I know it’s dangerous, but we have to do something. Tayvin thought—”
“And we wish to help you,” Jorrey said. “We’re not as different as you might think. When her brothers took arms, Cindle became my apprentice to help them. Now I think a greater use for her would be to travel to the humans and call for our cousins there. And since you are also going that direction, perhaps you should travel together. Her knowledge might be useful to you.”
“You want to help us?” Could it really be that easy? Had they misjudged each other from the start? Cindle still frowned, but Drynn was used to that by now. Her hardness could very easily come from loss, her true form appearing when she had helped with the panther.
And she knew about humans. All dorrans did.
Jorrey nodded, her arm still on Cindle, removing any protest. “As you said, it seems we have need to travel to the humans as well, and Cindle will do as her clan asks.”
Drynn grinned, springing to his feet. The venture excited him more now than it had before. Her help could be just what they had needed, a blessing from Falberain. “We’ll need to ask my brother.” He left the dorrans whispering together as he moved through the trees.
Tayvin had already gotten the elk back, loading the wood with the rest of the dorrans. “There you are. I think we’re just about set here. We can go after we get this lot back to the mines.”
“Tayvin, Cindle wants to come with us,” Drynn said.
“What? To the mines? Of course she does. We’re almost ready, so if you want to—”
“No, afterward.” He lowered his voice. “To the humans. She wants to help.”
Tayvin jerked to stop, startling the closest elk. “You told her?”
“You said I could ask them. Her forgemaster wants her to go, to bring more of the dorrans home, and she wants to help us. Dorrans live with humans. Every book I read about humans was written by them. They know all sorts of things.”
Tayvin scowled, crossing his arms, eyes narrowing back toward the dorrans. “Yeah, and what do we have to do in return?”
“She wants to help.” Wasn’t that enough?
“She’s a dorran.”
Cindle laughed, already behind them. Her hammer hung over one shoulder with the rest of her stuff, gingerly avoiding her back. “So I can’t just help out of the goodness of my heart?”
Drynn opened his mouth to apologize for his brother, but Tayvin stood unfazed.
“I don’t know,” Tayvin said, his arms still crossed.
“Good,” Cindle said. “Maybe you’ll stay alive. Not so sure about your brother. I think he’d hug a cave troll, and that has to stop if we’re going to the humans.” Everything about her tone said the matter had already been decided. “We can go now. Jorrey can bring in the others, and let the elves at the mines know where we’ve gone. We assume you don’t want the fuss of them knowing before we’ve already gotten a good head start.”
“No.” Tayvin shifted, looking back and forth between them. “So that’s the deal? We either let you come without question, or you’ll tell everyone else before we can leave.”
Cindle smiled. “I’m here to help. Just like your brother said. So, what kind of things have you brought with you? Do you have any food?”
They both shook their heads. In the forest, they hunted or foraged as they went along.
“You should. The roads don’t have much plant life. We can stop at the border to gather some.” As Cindle continued, her instructions became rapid and succinct—one right after another. “Humans are curious about other races. It would be better if you let most of them think you’re one of them. Keep your hoods up and don’t let them see your ears. And they’ll think you’re younger than you really are . . . How old are you two anyway?”
“I just turned eighty-five. He’s sixty-eight.” Tayvin pointed back at Drynn, still frowning.
“So, for a human, you’d be what?” She squinted as if making the calculation in her head.
Drynn had tried to do this previously, but it was a bit complicated. Elves aged faster as children then slowed down. There wasn’t a direct conversion.
“We age like the humans, and I’m sixteen,” Cindle said. “So we’ll say you’re seventeen and fourteen . . . ish. You might even go a little lower; you’re both so scrawny. For humans anyway. And Elven is way too foreign to be confused with a human dialect. Speak Human if you can do it correctly, or talk through me using Dorran. They’re used to our language. And if you have to give a name, don’t give your full one. Make one up or just give the shortened version. Got it?”
Tayvin and Drynn exchanged looks, Drynn silently begging his brother to relax. No matter how hard Cindle acted, there was no question they needed her. Tayvin had to see that.
Tayvin finally dropped his arms, a hint of humor leaking through his gaze like when they had to sit through one of their father’s lectures together. “Maybe?”
“Good.” Cindle turned to the trees as if she didn’t care if Tayvin agreed. “We’ll have to avoid Shirkhelm. It’s the closest part-human city, but it’s also swarming with dorrans, so—”
Drynn shook his head, finally coming in with his own question. “I thought you were going with us so you could look for dorrans?” Wouldn’t that make Shirkhelm the best place to go?
“That’s right.” Cindle bobbed her head a touch too quickly, glancing back at Jorrey before giving the rest of her answer. “But the dorrans in Shirkhelm already know about the war and have chosen to stay away. I’m looking for dorrans who had no chance of knowing. Besides, while you are with me, it would be better to avoid dorrans friendly with humans—they might tell the humans who you are. I’ll look for my kin after we settle you with a healer.”
Drynn nodded. Maybe that made sense. Cindle was far more generous with her time than he ever expected. And Drynn never would have thought of the danger of dorrans with human friends without her.
“Wildred should be all right,” she said, “but it will take well over a fortnight to get there walking, so we should get started.” She stomped through the trees, rabid-bear mode again.
Tayvin shot Drynn an uneasy glance, but Drynn wanted to laugh with relief. With Cindle and Tayvin together, they might actually be able to pull this off.
He ran to get his things, ready to go at last.
CHAPTER 6
AN ELVEN MAID with long amber curls spiraling past her waist darted through thick green mist. Drynn had no idea what she was running from or where she was headed; she just ran. And Drynn—he wasn’t anywhere. He watched the scene through her eyes like an audience in a play, unable to control anything.
Strangest dream he had ever had.
“No, no, no!” The young maid glanced over her shoulder. An elven man took large strides after her. With his copper hair tied up like a ranger, he looked like Tayvin, except his eyes were greener—closer to Drynn’s own.
The man smiled as he scooped the maid up and spun her around. She giggled as the man roared, “Caught you.”
“Let go! Let go! I’m not tired!” the maid’s voice continued mid-giggle.
“Not tired? I saw you yawn three times!” Pretending she weighed enough to crush him flat, he put the maid over his shoulder with
an exaggerated sigh. He walked the wooden floor of the hall. “What were you going to do, anyway? Run all the way back to Falberain?”
The girl stopped struggling. “Will you tell me about the fairies?”
“Again? I bet you could tell that one all by yourself.” The man carried her to a bed with square backboards. All of the furnishings appearing out of the mist were alien in appearance—large and box-shaped.
“Pa-lease?”
The man sighed again. “All right, the fairies.” He sat down beside the girl. “In the heart of the great forest, there is a place full of mist and magic. This land is called . . .”
“Falberain,” the maid answered. Drynn’s interest finally piqued.
They were talking about the elven ancestors who lived with the goddess in Falberain. Drynn had never thought of them as fairies before. Fairies, like the forest sprites, were immortals who still lived in Falberain. They came out of the portal in the forest heart occasionally, but they never stayed longer than a single night. Elves weren’t fairies. They didn’t live in Falberain and weren’t immortal, but the ancestors were mysterious and glorious. Everyone had their own story about them, and he was almost as eager as the little maid to hear this elf’s version.
“That’s right,” the man said. “Now there were many magical creatures who lived in Falberain, and they were all very powerful. They could do most anything they wanted with their magic. They never got sick, they never died, and they never wanted for anything.” Power flowed from this man’s words. Not that he had been speaking loudly, but it felt as if the man wasn’t just telling a fairy story. It was something stronger, something more significant than that.
“Despite their magic, they were bored. What was there to do all day in a world where everything was instantly provided? So, do you know what they did?”
The maid stopped giggling and nodded. “They watched people.”
“Yes. They made portals that allowed them to see other worlds, and that amused many of them for a long time, but after a while, they got bored even with that. They wanted to go to those worlds and see what it was like. It seemed the members of those worlds had a lot more fun than they ever did.”
The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One) Page 6
