Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (16 page)

Azi

“Flitt?” I call out to the light beaming through the white birch trunks. It shines with the purity and intensity I’ve come to recognize with her tiny, perfect radiance. There are no motes of dust or swirls of smoke to obscure it. I rush forward, wanting to be closer to it, knowing that the hard part is over and on the other side of these trees is where I’ll find her. Just through the trees is the gate we’ll go through together to get to the palace.

I shield my eyes when I finally come through the forest to stand before what I can only assume are the sweeping gates. I can’t see a thing. Everything is dancing light and color.

“Flitt?” I call again, and the light beams so intensely that I have to squeeze my eyes shut. It glares and pulses with a strange warmth that draws me in and pushes me away all at once.

“Azi!” Flitt’s sudden squeaky voice makes me jump. “You did it!”

She emerges from the light the same size as I am and I rush to her and throw my arms around her. I feel as though I’ve been alone for days, and I’m exhausted by the thought of it. I’m so relieved to see her that I don’t bother to hide my tears.

“Wings, ow,” Flitt winces and shrugs and tries to wiggle away but I hug her tighter, afraid if I let go she’ll leave me alone to fend for myself again in this strange fairy proving ground.

“
Azi
,” she whispers to my mind and flicks her eyes toward the gate. “
You’re embarrassing me. They’re watching, you know.
”

The gate of the palace tower over us, gilt and shining. Its lace-like design sparkles with drops of dew like a spider’s web. Beyond it, the white rosebud towers of the palace stretch up to the sky, washed in the ever-present lavender and pink glow of the rising sun.

They’re watching. Two shining sentries flank the gates on either side. They tower over us like giants standing at full attention, their dark hazel eyes fixed on us both. Their ornate spears are crossed over the threshold, barring our entry.

“Ow,” Flitt whines and wiggles again and I let go reluctantly.

“Sorry,” I murmur as she reaches back and rubs her wings.

“You nearly crushed them,” she pouts.

“No I didn’t, I was careful,” I say, a little annoyed.

“Well, you could have let go when I said,” she crosses her arms. “Typical.”

“Sorry!” I scoff in disbelief. “Excuse me for being relieved to see you after all that!”

“Funny way of showing it, smashing my wings.” She looks behind her and waves her glittering wings slowly as if checking for damage. I don’t know what to say to her sudden annoyance of me, so I just stand and wait.

Just as I’m about to ask her what comes next, the soft sound of chimes dances through the air around us. It’s so soothing and peaceful that I nearly forget why I’m standing here. The sentries raise their spears and drive the ends of them into the mossy green earth before them. They give us an abrupt nod of approval.

“No harm done!” Flitt chirps, grabs my hand, and tugs me forward. Her sudden change in spirit makes my head spin.

As we approach, the sparkling doors swing open to reveal the entry hall of the palace. I gasp at its grandeur as I peer inside. The hall is so vast and splendid that I find myself pausing on the threshold. Flitt does, too. Even with the permission of the sentries and the invitation of the open doors, I can’t bring myself to step from the earthy moss to the glossy white stone. I don’t want to taint the perfection of it with my presence.

It’s magic, I know it is, yet I can’t help but obey its command. I stand together with Flitt, entranced by the endless pure ivory arches that stretch up into the pink sky and the lines and lines of carved pillars that seem to go on to infinity, each one flanked by two fairy guards dressed in silver and gold. The light of this place washes over me and I drink it in slowly, savoring the feeling as it seeps into every pore of my skin.

Power, light, love, peace, beauty, compassion. This magic, these wards encompass everything that is good. As drawn to it as I am, I still can’t bring myself to spoil it by entering.

“Enter,” a voice drifts from within, so sweet it brings tears to my eyes.

I lean forward and will my foot to raise and step, but I stop with my knee in mid-air. The guards closest to us snicker softly, and their chuckling invites more of the same from within the great hall. Soon, the sound of fairy laughter echoes across the arches and columns, flooding my ears, further enchanting me with the magic of this place.

Beside me, Flitt giggles and takes my hand again. The moment she does, all goes quiet. I feel something change between us, something I can’t describe. It’s as though the bond between us just in that simple gesture has solidified.

“
What was that?
” I push to her as the command of the warding magic fades away.

“You know fairies,” she replies aloud. “They had to be sure we were the right fit. Come on.”

I look down at my raised foot and this time when I try to step forward it comes easy to me. Flitt’s hand squeezes mine and the unseen fairies inside the palace applaud. The guards each stomp a single foot and point within, toward the endlessness of the great hall. Flitt bobs along beside me, still tugging my hand as she goes. I want to ask her to explain, but I get the distinct sense that I should remain quiet, so I do.

We walk for what seems like ages, until when I look behind me I can no longer see the gate, and when I look ahead there is nothing but pillars and arches and splashes of the pink light of dawn. After a while, the peace and grandeur of this place begins to fade, and I find myself growing annoyed as my thoughts drift back to Cerion and the plight I was torn from.

The sensation of my mind inside of the prince’s is the first thought that comes to me. As I walk hand in hand with Flitt, I remember the feeling of the ax on the back of his neck. I relive the darkness that followed. The fear, the panic of the people. I recall Rian’s command to Flitt
to escape with me.

Despite the peaceful magic of this palace, my heart is racing. I feel the anger rising in me, the shame of running, the worry, the fear. Sorcery has returned to Cerion, after generations of peace. The existence of dark magic so powerful, with such little concern for our common people, is terrifying. That they would be so bold as to attack such an important gathering with the Royal family present is even more so.

I remember the faces of the common folk during the trial. Men and women, hardworking, loyal to His Majesty the King. Commoners and their children who live kindly and honestly. People who give to one another and care for those less fortunate. I remember their terror in the quick moments before Flitt whisked me away. I remember the prince and his strange words. I remember Rian, standing ready with his spells, commanding Flitt to take me. Rian, who always stands beside me. Rian.

I can’t bear to think of the outcome of the attack. We had our Mages there, but they ought to have been able to prevent whatever evil that was. Their wards alone should have kept it out. I think of Rian again and how on edge he’s been. I think of the visions he showed me of his life at the Academy since the battle of the keep at Kythshire. I think of his face, how it’s changed since then. How young he was before, and how much older now. But still he has that glint in his eye, that mischief, that self-assured smirk. It’s rarer these days, but still it makes my heart skip to think of it.

I don’t realize that I’ve reached the end of the hall, or that the steps to the throne of the Fairy Queen stretch out before me. I don’t notice the mass of onlooking fairies who line the pillars and hover in groups all the way up to the ceiling. I don’t hear them whisper or see the twinkle of pink light that glances off of their wings. I’m unaware of Flitt’s hand holding mine tightly, or the queen who watches from her throne high above.

I don’t feel my feet on the steps or know that I am nearing Her Majesty. I walk in a trance, my thoughts still on Cerion, on the High Court, on Rian, my memories telling the story of my recent past.

I don’t notice that her steel-gray eyes are fixed on mine, or see the golden tendrils that drift between us, pulling these scenes to her. Showing her everything she wishes to see about Cerion and its people.

Rian and I are together again, lying in the soft, cool grass of the Forest Park, our noses touching as we gaze at one another. I feel his arms around me warm and soothing. I fall into his eyes and see things he never showed me. The Academy and its workings shuffle between us like cards in a deck. Secrets I never would have asked to know, rules and mandates and policies strictly adhered to by the Mages of Cerion. Regulations put in place for the safety of the fairies, for the preservation of the Wellspring of Kythshire.

I see the Mages who value these rules like a sacred canon, and I see the others who treat the rules as loose guidelines. Faces of men and women who have dedicated their lives to their work. Most of them are familiar to me simply as acquaintances of my uncle. I see the Mark on a few, covered by their high collars, a sign of their overreaching, a brand of their thirst for power that is not theirs to take. These faces imprint on my mind and linger.

I slowly become aware of Her Majesty the Queen as the face of a Mage fades between us to be replaced by her own. As the golden tendrils linger, I take in the perfect line of her lightly blushed high cheekbones and the way the light catches on her white-painted eyelashes. Her rosy lips smile playfully as slowly she closes her eyes and breaks the connection between us.

I don’t feel angry or violated. The knowledge she sought was her right, her claim. Not an imposition, for the knowledge of Cerion’s Mages was borrowed from her people, and therefore hers to own.

I’m left with a sense of serenity so delicious that I can do nothing but stand in awe of the woman on the throne. Her gown is white petals and birch bark and dove feathers that cascade to the floor like a waterfall. Her crown is diamond and ivory and dew-kissed twig and lacewing held by loose, flyaway locks of spun-gold hair. Curls of the same tumble down her bare shoulders and reflect in the shimmer of her wings, which are as delicate as a dragonfly’s. I have never seen wings as impressive as hers. They dance with a light even more colorful and bright than Flitt’s and they’re twice as broad as her arm’s reach.

“My Sunbeam,” the queen’s voice is the whisper of a sweet spring breeze and the tinkle of a chime. She holds her arms out to Flitt, and I’m surprised when my fairy companion doesn’t dive into them. Instead, Flitt looks at the queen with a hint of caution and something else I can’t place. Actually I can, but I’m so shocked by it that I can’t believe Flitt could have the audacity to show it. Defiance.

All around us the fairies in the hall hover silently, leaning in, waiting. They sense it, too, this tension between Flitt and the queen.

“Why, little one,” the queen tilts her head to the side, causing her crown to jingle and glitter. “Long has it been since we held you in our arms. Why do you deny us your embrace?”

Flitt tightens her grip on my hand. She tugs me along with her as she leans in and allows the queen to hug her. This close to the queen, I can feel her power like the beams of the sun itself. I fear if I linger too long, I might be burned by it. The palace erupts into applause and sighs of approval as the queen hugs Flitt closer.

“I missed you, Memi,” Flitt whispers only loud enough for the three of us to hear. “But you shouldn’t have done that to Azi. She didn’t even know it was happening. People have different rules than we do. You’ve been away from them too long to remember.”

“Indeed, but there were things we needed to see,” the queen says. “No matter. One who has more vast knowledge than she is being tested even as we speak. This one has been well-trained in the human ways of magic.” She gazes past Flitt to the great hall for a moment, and then turns her attention back to the colorful fairy. “We are proud of you, our little one. We have heard tell of your accomplishments.” She lets Flitt go after one more squeeze, and right away Flitt takes a step back and pulls me with her.

“Yet,” the queen says with a hint of sadness, “there is little time for happy reunions. The Mage approaches.”

She makes a graceful motion with her hand, and Flitt and I turn toward the sweeping hall to watch. At the queen’s command, the air shimmers before us to form a portal or a looking glass. It is large enough to show the reflection of much of the throne and of the queen, myself, and Flitt, and it hovers in mid-air for all to see. After a moment, its surface ripples like the waves of a pool and our reflections give way to a completely different scene.

I gasp as the image shifts to that of a familiar figure: Auburn hair and blue Mage robes which hang on his narrow frame. At his shoulder, a fairy in glinting green armor whispers to him. The figure turns to face us, and Rian’s eyes meet mine through the fairy portal.

“Rian!” I whisper, tears springing to my eyes. I rush toward his image, dragging Flitt along with me. I know it’s only a spell, a vision, but I need to be close to him. I need feel his arms around me. I take in every detail of him. His robes are torn at the shoulder and one bell sleeve is splattered with blood. His face has been singed on the left side, and he walks with a slight limp as he hurries forward.

“What now?” Rian asks Shush, his tone urgent and hushed.

“Now we part ways, my friend, and meet on the other side,” the fairy whispers. “Take heed. I’ll see you there.”