by E. L. Todd
“What does it mean—”
“There’s a red cardinal right over there.” He nodded to the side of the stream. “Try it again—just with him.”
She turned to look at the bird sitting on the branch, looking around the meadow for a worm to bring to his nest. “Okay.” She closed her mind, brought herself into a trance, which took longer because of the uneasiness of the situation, and reached out.
She felt him.
He felt her.
It was indescribable, to be connected to another creature on a level that was beyond language. Communication was through feelings, through sensation, through mental pictures. Initial contact with his mind brought anxiety because he didn’t understand the sensation. But she somehow calmed him with her emotions, somehow promised she was friend and not foe.
Then he came to her.
A little weight formed on her thigh, his tiny claws pressing into her trousers.
She opened her eyes and saw the beautiful red color up close. His head turned left and right, regarding Callon before looking at her once more. A few chirps came from his small beak. But his presence was calm, completely unafraid.
When she lifted her eyes to look at Callon, she saw that his expression had deepened, that the consternation had only increased.
“Did you tell him to do that?”
“No. He just…came over.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Can you do that?”
“I can feel the presence of those around me, as can other elves. We can convey intention with the smallest of creatures. But we can’t connect with something as enormous as the forest, nor can we have this level of connection with another creature.”
The cardinal grew bored and flew away.
“Connect with me.”
She stared for several heartbeats before she closed her eyes. Her mind was brought to a state of calm, and then she reached out just a few feet in front of her. She knew exactly when she felt his mind.
Because it was like an iron cage.
It was uninviting.
Cold.
Livid.
She pressed further, feeling a cacophony of emotions, but the strongest one she felt was grief.
Raw, potent, painful grief.
“Enough.”
She pulled her mind away and opened her eyes.
His breathing had increased, his chest rising and falling as if her mind had been an assailant. “Don’t ever do that again. Not with me or another elf.”
“Okay.” Remorse flooded through her at the contact because she’d felt private sensations she shouldn’t know about. “What does this mean? I don’t understand.”
He dropped his gaze, falling into quiet contemplation. “I have no idea what it means. But it definitely means something.”
Callon returned to the perimeter for his duty.
He didn’t say goodbye.
She listened to his instructions and practiced on her own. She’d been to the clearing so many times that she knew the way on her own. She’d hike to the stream to spend the morning perfecting her posture, pretending Callon was whipping his branch at her. She worked on her balance as well as meditation.
She didn’t reach out her mind again.
He’d forbidden it.
The week passed in isolation. She practiced on her own, cooked on her own, and kept distant from the rest of the elves. She didn’t bother to go to the market anymore, not unless Callon was with her.
They’d probably forgotten she existed.
In the evenings, she would reach out to Flare and Rush, even though they didn’t have much to say. They were sailing ahead on the open ocean, every day identical to the last. But it was nice to hear their voices.
When Callon returned, she went to meet him in the morning in his tree house. She walked up the vine with just a single fumble then entered his open doorway. He stood in the kitchen, finishing up the lunch he’d made for the two of them.
Silently, she moved to the couch and waited.
He turned away from the kitchen with his pack over his shoulder and stared down at her. In black trousers and a loose white shirt with an opening over his hard chest, he stood in his boots on the rug. His dark hair was always short, like it never grew, and his green eyes looked like grass after a long rain.
Their short connection gave her a flood of memories that she couldn’t forget. The grief was so strong, it nearly knocked her off her feet. Now when she was in his presence, she could feel it—always. She dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He remained still next to the armchair, watching her.
She didn’t look up to meet his gaze, unsure if the words she’d spoken would provoke him rather than comfort him.
He set the pack on the ground next to the armchair beside her and took a seat.
She lifted her chin, surprised to see him next to her.
Both arms were on the armrests, and his eyes were on the open doorway that showed the endless lines of tree branches along with glimpses of the blue sky. Sadness was prevalent in his eyes, like he’d experienced a sweep of memories that nearly drowned him.
She gave him a moment to compose himself.
“My wife was a fighter. One of the best I’ve ever seen. But she passed away in the last Great War.”
Her breathing picked up, absorbing the pain of his words as well as the pain in his heart.
“My son as well.”
A shaky film formed in her eyes, imagining Callon going to battle with everything and coming home with nothing.
“He was a great warrior, a great leader. He was supposed to relieve me of my position as general so I could retire from my tenure in the military. My wife and I decided it was time to dedicate our lives to something other than battle. But that never happened.”
Teardrops remained glued to her eyeballs, slowly increasing in weight.
“I trained him myself—but that wasn’t enough.” He slowly turned his head her way, their eyes locking together. “Now you understand why I’m constantly disappointed in you. You’re nowhere near ready to live to see your last breath—let alone win. You’re young, I understand that, but your naïveté is alarming.”
The insult bounced off without touching her because she was too heartbroken to care about herself right now. Tears escaped, and she quickly wiped them from her cheeks.
“It was a long time ago, but time passes in our minds differently than it does with others, so every day feels like the first day I have to live without them both. The first time I saw her was in the meditation field, her hair blowing in the breeze, the flowers dancing around her in the wind. I felt her presence at an amplification that I’ve never felt with another—and that was when I knew. It took hundreds of years for us to be satisfied with each other before we decided to grow our family.” His head turned back to the doorway, looking outside as he listened to the birds. “I’ve never wished to remarry. I’ve never bothered to get to know someone else. My heart is just as in love as it ever was. Foolishly, I thought it would get better, but the grief is constant. It never abates, not in the morning nor the evening. I’ve contemplated the Spirit Ceremony many times.”
“The Spirit Ceremony?” she whispered.
His eyes remained focused outside. “When you decide to pass on.”
She inhaled a deep breath, her spine shivering with pain. “But you talk about them like they’re still here…”
“Because they are. I can still feel their presence. It comforts me most of the time, but sometimes it brings me pain, because I wish I could hear her voice, hear his laugh.” His tone was the same as it always was, robotic. His pain was wrapped tightly in his chest, and he didn’t let it emerge in his voice.
“So, elves can feel the presence of the dead as well as the living?”
“Only in the graveyard.”
She remembered passing it with Alfreda—along with the prohibition.
“That’s where their souls are connected to this
earth. I visit them often, and sometimes they come.”
“Alfreda told me I’m not allowed to visit the graveyard.” It was the one place off-limits, and an explanation was never given.
He slowly turned his chin back to her, looking at her with eyes so dry they were like cracked pieces of burned firewood. “I’ve given the Spirit Ceremony serious consideration because there’s nothing left for me on this side of life—until recently.” He regarded her with empty eyes, but there seemed to be something deep in the look. “I’m torn between two loyalties. I’ve served the queen and Eden Star for thousands of years. I’d give my life and do it without hesitation. But I also have a loyalty to my family, a bond that’s unconditional, unspoken. So, I need to tell you something—and you must promise me it stays between us.”
On a precipice as high as a cliff, she felt like her weight would shift forward and topple her down the mountain. Unable to speak, she just nodded, the weight of the conversation suddenly crushing her chest.
He looked forward again. “Queen Delwyn wishes me not to share this because it compromises her in several ways. Her late husband was killed in battle a long time ago. She succeeded him as ruler because he sired no children. But that’s not true—because you’re his daughter.” He slowly turned back to her, his eyes taking in her surprised stare. “He was my brother—which makes me your uncle.”
Her hands clutched tighter together in her lap as a gulp of air flooded her lungs, expanding them until they ached at full capacity. When her finger felt the wooden ring, she took another breath, understanding the connection between them in a way she hadn’t before. He’d taken her under his wing because they were bound by blood. He looked after her when everyone else abandoned her—because they were family. “I’ve always wanted to know who my parents are, but knowing that I have you is…the greatest news I’ve heard in a long time.”
Slowly, his eyes fell, softening. The hard man who was impenetrable to human emotion suddenly absorbed her presence in a way that changed his countenance, that made his shoulders relax, made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You’re my family,” she whispered. “I…I have family.”
His eyes closed briefly, like the words were an arrow to his heart.
It took a few breaths to recover from the shock, to accept the good fortune she’d just inherited. She should ask a million questions about her father, the King of the Elves, but he was dead and gone, and she would never know him. But she did have the man beside her, a man who had become a father figure and a friend. “Does that mean…the queen is my mother?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you know who she is?”
He shook his head again. “No. And we’ll probably never know.”
Now it became abundantly clear why the queen despised her so deeply. “So…who was he?”
He dropped his gaze to his hands, examining the emerald symbol of the ring they shared, and then turned back to her. “Tiberius Riverglade.”
Sixteen
Mist Isle
They sailed the open seas for what felt like an eternity.
Captain Hurricane and his armada had disappeared a long time ago, so now they were the only ship in the wide blue.
I need to fly.
No.
You don’t understand me. I need to fly. Not that I want to fly.
Yes, I get it. But it’s too risky. You never know who might be watching.
We’re literally the only people out there.
Captain Hurricane snuck up on us, didn’t he? Look, we’ve got to be close, so just hold on a little longer.
Growl. I’m sick of fish.
You want moldy bread instead?
Growl.
“Trouble in paradise?” Bridge nudged Rush in the side to bring him back to reality.
Rush turned to him. “Something like that.”
Bridge looked ahead, seeing the dark clouds far away on the horizon. “Glad we aren’t going in that direction.”
“We’ll probably feel the waves eventually.”
His arms rested over the wooden rails, and he stared at the sun’s reflection on the water as it stretched into the horizon. “Think we’re close?”
“Gotta be. We’ve been out here for six weeks.”
“Yeah.” Bridge released a loud sigh as he straightened. “Miss women…”
Rush glanced at him and stepped back. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He chuckled and looked ahead. “Saying you’re a woman?”
“No. But I’m a very attractive man, and that might be enough.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, man.”
“Guys, I think I see something.” Liam spoke from the crow’s nest, looking through the telescope as they bobbed on the waves.
Rush turned away from the rail. “What?”
Bridge released a sigh of dread. “Please, no more pirates…”
Liam continued to press his face into the telescope, his left eye closed. “It’s like a wall…”
“A wall?” Bridge asked. “I’m pretty sure the world isn’t flat, so…”
It’s not.
Rush approached the base of the pole. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Liam.”
I could always fly and give you a better look.
Definitely not now.
Liam straightened then leaned over the edge to look down at Bridge and Rush. “I think it’s mist.”
Rush immediately turned on his heel and looked back at Bridge.
Bridge’s eyebrows were at the top of his forehead. “Shit…you think that’s what it is?”
“It’s gotta be.” Do you feel anything?
No. The mist is too thick. But I think that’s intentional.
Which means…?
Yes. We’ve found Mist Isle.
It would take a day of sailing to reach the island, so there was nothing else to do but wait.
Rush lay in his cot that night, unable to sleep or even try to close his eyes. Let’s tell her.
Yes. It’ll be the pick-me-up she needs. Hold on.
Rush waited, excitement rumbling in his chest, picturing her reaction when he told her the good news.
She didn’t answer.
Rush tensed in disappointment. Is she too far away?
No. Her mind is bigger than it’s ever been. It’s increased by a factor of ten. She didn’t answer.
What do you mean by that?
I pressed up on her mind multiple times. She didn’t respond.
Maybe she can’t feel it—
No, it was intentional. I pushed into her, and she pushed me back. She doesn’t want to talk.
Rush stared at the bunker above him, his heart strained.
I knocked at her door multiple times—and she chose not to answer.
His eyes remained still in position, but his heart rate increased as the dread descended. Maybe she’s busy…
In tune with his emotions on such a deep level, Flare felt his fears. There’s no one else, Rush.
Then why doesn’t she want to talk to us?
I have no idea. But I’m sure she’ll give us an explanation next time we talk to her.
When they approached the wall of mist, they were all uneasy.
Rush stayed at the bow of the ship, his hands on the rails. “The water is really calm here.”
“Really calm…” Bridge looked over the edge and to the water below. “There are no waves.”
The mist was just a few feet away, so Rush turned around to address the crew. “Liam, keep your eyes peeled. Zane, be prepared to turn the masts at a moment’s notice. Lilac, you got the wheel?”
“I’m ready,” she called from the stern of the ship.
They crept closer and closer, as if they glided across glass, the wind suddenly disappearing and stopping their momentum altogether. The mist enveloped the ship, pressing against their faces with sticky coldness, entering their lungs and making them shiver.
Bridge was no longer visib
le right beside Rush. “This is creepy…”
“Stay alert.” Rush wanted to reach for his sword, but a blade would be useless under the circumstances.
The mist didn’t pass. It just kept coming.
They were all soaked to the bone, all freezing in the frozen humidity. The old injuries to Rush’s knuckles started to ache. He kept his eyes peeled and stared into the solid wall of mist, waiting for something to change.
It was like staring into darkness—there was nothing to focus on.
The ship creaked, gliding across the flat water, moving so slowly they were uncertain if they moved at all.
“We’re moving, right?” Bridge whispered.
Yes. “Yeah.”
Bridge looked ahead, giving a loud sigh to release the jitter to his nerves. “How thick can this be?”
Rush turned to Liam. “See anything?”
His face was pressed into the telescope. “Can’t see anything in any direction.”
“This is dangerous,” Lilac called. “We have no idea where we’re going. We could hit rocks—”
“We keep going.” Rush faced forward again.
Lilac snapped back. “If my brother drowns, that’s on you.”
Bridge sighed. “Let’s not talk about drowning right now.”
They continued to glide—endlessly.
There were no birds. No warmth. Nothing but the gentle creak of the ship because every noise was amplified by the cocoon of mist that surrounded them.
Bridge looked at Rush.
Rush looked back.
I can feel it.
What?
Them.
The ship broke through the final section of mist, the droplets falling from their damp clothing and hitting the wooden floorboards. The creaks of the ship ended, and they glided across the water toward an island so large it wasn’t an island at all. Mountains larger than any in Anastille loomed ahead, stretching high above, their hills covered in deep green grass and bushes, mighty oaks poking out at a slant from the side of the mountain, enormous pines visible somewhere at the top. Flowers bloomed along the side of the mountain, pops of color everywhere.
It was silent.
So silent.
