Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) (17 page)

“I...what?” I search his face. He’s serious.

“Will you be my student, Azi? Officially.” He starts to talk so quickly that it’s hard for me to keep up, “I’m a Mentor now, and by the laws I can only take on one student. If you agree, then I can’t be forced to take anyone else. It’s what she was planning. Viala. Master Gaethon had her take me as a student when he left so she couldn’t secretly take Eron. I realize now that he wanted me to fail so she couldn’t force me to teach him in secret, either. So if I took you on, that would solve it. Also, it helps to be bonded in some way if we’re going to be teleporting. I’m sure that’s why Grand Master raised me to sixteenth. And I could tell you everything. All of the secrets.”

He shifts and steps back a little to read me, and I wonder if I look as beaten as I feel. I’m not a Mage. I don’t ever want to be one. Choosing that path now would feel too much like abandoning everything I’ve worked so hard for.

“Nothing would change. I don’t even have to actually teach you anything,” he offers as though reading my mind, “It’s just a quick agreement, Azi. A safeguard. There isn’t a lot of time.” His hands tighten around mine.

“I will,” I say a little hesitantly.

“Good,” he nods and presses his thumb to my forehead, and a warm tingle comes with the ebb of golden light just above my brow. “That’s done,” he says, and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, “Now, we have to run home and get ready. I’ll explain on the way.” I abandon my torturous shoes as Rian pulls me through the door, and we sprint off down the narrow passageway in the opposite direction we came from before. I try to keep track of our route, but there are so many bends and openings and doors that I eventually lose count of how many lefts and how many rights we’ve taken. Rian explains the laws of teleportation to me as we run.

He tells me that it takes a great deal of diplomacy on the part of the Academy, requiring several signatures of approval including the king’s due to the amount of magic required. The spell will send us directly to a Master Mage who has been marked to receive, and thankfully Master Gaethon had himself marked several years ago as a precaution. The law that strikes me as most disappointing is the restriction on metal. Any metal we bring or wear is considered magical payment, which means I can’t wear my armor or bring any weapons, unless they’re made of wood or leather. When I ask him if there is any way around it, he asks me if there’s any way around our feet striking the ground when we run. Magic has a cost, and the cost for this extravagantly expensive spell is payment in precious metals.

He pushes a door open to reveal a ladder that stretches up overhead at least two stories. I crane my neck and wonder how on earth I’ll manage to climb it in this dress.

“You go first,” he says, “If you slip, I’ll be right behind you.” It’s tedious and frustrating getting up to the top, especially rushing as we are. I curse the gown several times as it wraps around my knees and tangles at my feet. Eventually, we make it up to the top and I crawl out of a narrow doorway that leads onto a cobbled street that glows in the lamplight. We’ve emerged right outside of the glass blower’s stall, which is just a block away from home if we take the alley shortcut.

“No more gowns,” I puff as we trot to the alley’s opening, “Ever again.” I can’t wait to be rid of the cumbersome thing. We reach the end and Rian skids to a stop.

“Brace yourself,” he says, looking at my front door, “Mouli’s waiting up.”

“Oh...” I look down at the dress, which hangs heavy and damp from my frame. The once crisp pleats have fallen and rumpled, the hem is crusted with street filth, and many of the threads that caught on the rough stone have torn to gaping holes. One trailing sleeve is nearly torn off at the elbow. I imagine I stepped on it climbing up the ladder. “She’s going to kill me.”

“We don’t have time for that,” he whispers, and waves a hand over me, and I watch in wonder as the dress is transformed. The grime falls away and the holes close up. The sleeve repairs itself, and the pleats reform to even crisper lines than they had been when I first got dressed. I turn slightly, and the golden fabric shimmers in the lamplight. He looks at me, inspecting his work, “Not bad,” he grins. “Remember, no metal. We have just a few minutes, so hurry and change and only pack what you need. Don’t worry about food.”

“Are we telling Mouli and Luca what we’re up to? What about Da?” I ask. Rian nods.

“I think they should know. Your father...” he pauses, thinking, “It may be best to leave him sleeping. If something happens to me, the spell will break. If all goes well, I can remove it easily enough.” It’s too painful to think of something happening to Rian. I push the thought away.

“I wish he could come with us,” I gaze up at my bedroom window and picture him sleeping in his own room, just beyond it. Rian strokes my cheek.

“I know,” he says. “Come on.”

In my room, I explain as much as I can while Mouli helps me out of my gown and all of the constricting undergarments that it requires. She takes them away to store them, and I scratch my stomach and sides with great relief as I rush into the dressing room.  I pull out a thick pair of work trousers and a long-sleeved tunic. Out of habit I grab the belt I usually wear, but it has a metal buckle, and so I opt for a sash instead. As I tie it, Flit’s diamond glints at my wrist, catching my eye. I rush to the hatch and push it open. Rian’s is open already. He’s rushing around his room, back in his familiar blue robes again.

“Is this okay?” I ask, holding up the diamond. He comes over and looks at it carefully, then nods.

“It should be fine. Are you almost ready?”

“I think so. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I look around my room and my eyes rest on the stand that holds my chain mail. I trail my fingers along the smooth, cool rings and sigh. It’s the last thing I’d expect to be leaving behind at a time like this, but as Rian said, if I try to bring it, it’ll be lost forever. I don’t have time to dwell on it. Even my sword will remain. I feel too light, too exposed as I grab the cross-body bag that holds little more than an extra set of clothes. I can’t think of anything else I’d need that fits within the laws. I look around the room and I wonder if this is the last time I’ll stand here. Flit’s pitcher lies empty on the windowsill, and I realize that I haven’t felt or heard from her since she whispered to me in the underground room.

“Flit?” I call quietly, “Are you here?” I hear the front door close, and Rian and Luca making hurried arrangements downstairs. There’s no answer from Flit, and I can’t help but worry as I rush into the hallway. I turn toward my father’s room and pause. I want to say goodbye, and I will my feet to push me forward through his door, but I can’t. It’s too difficult to think it might be the last time I ever see him.

“He’ll be okay,” Rian says softly behind me. “Promise.” He slips his hand into mine, “come on, we can’t be late.”

We offer our rushed farewells to Mouli and Luca, who both promise that everything will be safe in their care while we’re away. I can’t tell if I’m imagining the hint of finality in Mouli’s voice, and there’s no time to dwell on it as Rian and I rush back to the Academy. Master Anod is waiting for us outside of the entrance and when he ushers us through, he turns to Rian with a nod.

“Good thinking, Mentor,” he says as I step across the threshold and my forehead tingles where Rian pressed his thumb to it earlier. “That makes things much less complicated.”

“There are wards on the door which keep everyone but students from entering,” Rian explains quietly as we are ushered into an atrium of highly polished white marble.

As I gaze around at the circular space, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. All of my life I have passed by the grand and imposing Academy buildings, imagining how wonderful it must be inside. The only thing remarkable about this stark white room is how bright it is despite the late hour, which is about to strike midnight. There are no paintings on the walls, no carvings of relief in the shining white marble. Even the marble itself bears no veins or markings at all. After a moment I realize how very quiet the space is, too. The sound of our footsteps and the movement of Rian and Anod’s robes are completely silent. The effect is slightly dizzying, and I’m relieved when Anod opens one of twenty doors on the opposite wall and motions us through.

When the door closes behind us with an audible click, we are immediately surrounded by a corridor full of tiny, floating globes of multicolored light. They remind me of drifting, rainbow-colored snowflakes. Master Anod and Rian raise their arms out to their sides and I mimic the motion. I feel a sense of curiosity emanating from the orbs as they drift around us, changing color.  Several of them cling to the diamond tucked into the weave of my bracelet. Rian’s travel bag seems to be covered in them, many are stuck to a button of his vest, and a few others are attracted to the places in his robes where I know there to be hidden pockets. When Master Anod turns to us, the entirety of his robes is covered in them. His eyes glint with amusement at Rian, and then me.

“Ah,” he nods at my wrist. “It seems that we are not the only ones with secrets, eh, Mentor Rian?” The globes that cling to my diamond are pulsing a soft, friendly yellow, while Rian’s are a mix of green, blue, and purple. The orbs on Master Anod continue to fade through the entire spectrum as Rian leans to me.

“They detect magical objects,” he explains. “Different colors for different types of magic. Also, if we had any metal, they’d go red.”

“Master Anod’s robes are magical?” I whisper as Anod opens the next door and the orbs separate from us to continue drifting along their small space. “What do they do?”

“As lower Circles, it’s considered rude to ask,” says Rian. “But I imagine they’re imbued with protective magic. That’s why the orbs have trouble discerning the type.”

“Right you are, Mentor, right you are.” Anod beams, and we follow him through into another circular room. This one is spectacular. The walls are painted in intricately entwined runes of every color creating an effect that’s dazzling. The dark, low ceiling is dusted with sparkling white specks that remind me of the night sky. Ten alcoves are set into the wall, perfectly spaced, and the floor is a spiral of mosaics. A closer look at the tiles under our feet reveals them to be tiny squares of silver, gold, and pearl, and at the center is a disk of rough, unpolished sapphire. Within the sapphire is a glass cylinder that stands as tall as my waist. Gold coins and gold nuggets and chains fill the glass to the brim, and I estimate that such a great amount of wealth could set up a small family to live in comfort for a lifetime. Anod instructs us to stand face to face on either side of the cylinder, and Rian takes my hands.

“Don’t let go,” he says. “No matter what. I won’t let you go, either.” He squeezes my hands and I try not to panic as I realize what’s about to happen. One moment we’ll be standing here, and the next, we’ll be thrust into the unknown. As a group of Mages in gray robes file into the room, each one settling into an alcove, I suddenly feel completely unprepared.

“I’m not ready,” I whisper to him frantically. “Will Uncle be expecting us? Shouldn’t we have some shields put on us in case we’re attacked when we arrive? What if something goes wrong? What if there’s fighting? Shouldn’t we have a plan?” Rian’s hands tighten around mine as Master Anod steps into the last empty alcove and the Mages begin speaking the ancient words that will send us on our way.

“Can’t do shields.” Rian’s eyes glint with the reflection of the gold between us. “Teleportation strips them.” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses it. “And we have a plan. That plan is hold on to each other. Don’t let go.” The floor seems to rise up around us in shafts of gold and silver and shimmering pearl. The sapphire at our feet begins to glow and rise and a strange sensation starts in the soles of my feet and slowly crawls upward. It tickles and itches, like an army of tiny ants crawling over me. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip Rian’s hands as tightly as I can as the blue light envelops us. We’re jolted and we start to move, but I’m too disoriented to tell which direction we’re going. The wind whistles painfully in my ears and slaps my face. Rian’s fingers slip from mine but we catch each other and he pulls me against him and I realize that the glass cylinder has been taken. Then the wind is gone, and the light is gone, and we hit the ground hard, and there is nothing but darkness.

The ants crawl over every inch of me, biting, skittering, and pinching. They’re in my hair, in my nose, in my mouth. I fight to brush them off, but my arms are too heavy and won’t move. I try to roll, to writhe, but my body is dead weight. Instead I lie whimpering, cloaked in darkness, paralyzed. Slowly the sensation fades, and as I begin to feel the prick of pine needles beneath me, I remember that there were no ants. Just magic. When my arms can respond, I reach up to scratch my scalp, which still tingles from the odd sensation. In the back of my mind, as I push my fingers through my hair, I’m haunted by a feeling that something isn’t right. And then I remember. Don’t let go. I hold my empty hands out in front of me, but I only see darkness.

“Rian?” I whisper, pricking my ears to my surroundings. I roll with some difficulty onto my side, and the small movement makes my stomach churn. I lie still again and listen, waiting for the feeling to pass. In the distance I catch a ring of steel on steel, a booming voice. Fighting. “Rian?” I call a little more loudly as I try to blink away the blackness.

He promised he wouldn’t let go. I swore not to. That was our only plan, don’t let go. Maybe he’s nearby, paralyzed like I was. I fight through the queasiness and push myself to my knees and begin to frantically search around me with my hands, but all they find are more pine needles and the trunk of a tree. In the distance the clashing fight intensifies, and I press myself against the safety of the massive trunk. My hand closes around a stick as thick as my wrist and I clutch it to my chest, waiting, listening to the distant screaming as the air grows thick with smoke. There’s a battle cry that sounds comfortingly like Bryse, and then the deafening boom of some spell quiets him.

“Please, Rian,” I whimper and rub my eyes, terrified that the blindness is permanent. Someone comes crashing toward me through the forest from the direction of the battle, and I hold my breath as they near, unsure whether it’s friend or foe. The footsteps are light and swift, and they slide to a halt only an arm’s reach from me.

“Blindness,” Cort curses apparently to himself. “Can’t see a damn thing. Mages. Give me a sword any day.” He takes a few steps back and shouts into the woods, “Gaethon, Donal! Bryse is down! Need you due south!”

“Cort!” I call out as the footsteps retreat. They pause, and I push myself to my feet in relief, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to run away from me, back to the fight, still cursing.

“He can’t hear you,” Rian says from beside me, causing me to jump.

“Oh, Rian! Thank you, thank you!” I fling my arms around him in the darkness.

“It’s a blindness ward, really complex magic,” he says as he takes my hand and guides me away from the noise. “Step through and you can’t see a thing, and anyone outside can’t hear you call for help.”

“We’re going away from the battle,” I say as I pick my way through the darkness, “They need us back there! Bryse is down.”

“They need a healer. He’s over here.” I follow him a short distance until he pulls me down. I kneel and grope the forest floor until I feel him sprawled there, unmoving.

“Brother Donal?” I ask as my fingertips graze the smooth skin on top of his head.

“He’s been knocked out,” Rian says as he shakes Brother Donal’s shoulder. After a moment, he groans and sits up.

“Brother Donal, are you all right? It’s Azi and Rian,” I say, “we came to warn you, but we were too late. Bryse is down—“

“Who’s there?” A familiar voice calls from a short distance away in the darkness. Brother Donal coughs beside me and Rian moves protectively closer. I feel the air shift around us several times as Rian murmurs, and I realize he’s casting shield spells over us. It takes me a moment to place the new voice, but when he calls again, I’m certain I know who it is.

“Dacva,” I whisper.

“Who is it? Declare yourself!” he calls, his voice shaking. Rian grips my arm, signaling for me to be quiet.

“It’s Donal. Over here, boy.” Rian and I hiss our disapproval, but Brother Donal pushes himself to his feet. “Where’s Gaethon?” he asks as he moves away from us into the darkness.

“Over here,” Dacva’s footsteps crunch heavily in the underbrush as he leads Donal away. Another crash of magic booms in the distance. “Something came out of nowhere and slammed into him. Knocked him out.”

“That would be me,” Rian murmurs as he moves to follow them. I grip his arm as we move along in the darkness, and hear something that sounds like soft chimes, and then Uncle coughing. He speaks a quick spell and our sight is instantly restored. I blink at the shock of it, squinting into the group, all of whom are already running into the fray again. Dacva brushes past me in a blur of yellow and gold, and Rian and I blink at each other in disbelief.

“Why is he in our colors?” I whisper, and Rian shakes his head with no reply to offer. The trees in the distance are silhouetted against flashes of red and orange as magical bursts thunder through the forest. Rian and I chase after the three, into the fray. “Stay close to me,” he says as we crash through the underbrush and into a charred clearing. Bryse lies in a mountainous heap of burnt blue armor and Dacva and Donal stand beside him, their hands streaming a whitish glow as they administer healing. Again, Rian and I exchange glances of disbelief. Since when is Dacva a healer?

Opposite them, on the far side of the clearing, Cort’s swords flash ferociously against three foes in Redemption’s colors. As I charge to help them with a battle cry, I feel the cool familiarity of Rian’s ice sword take shape in my hand. I raise the weapon high over my head and bring it down in a graceful arc that meets my opponent’s armor with a sizzle. The pauldron at his shoulder slices clean away and he falls backward, stunned by my attack. A spell shoots over my shoulder and I watch the man’s eyelids go heavy and droop closed.

“What in black stars?” Cort says under his breath. I don’t have time to think as he drives the remaining two men back, both of whom are twice our size. One of them swings his axe wildly and I’m too slow to block it. It slices at my knee and I brace myself for the impact, certain of the peg-leg in my future. But it simply glances off, and the air around me shivers. The axe-wielder growls in fury and swings again, missing me by a long shot, almost as if he’s attacking something he can’t see.

I swing my sword, aiming for the weak spot in his armor where the arm meets the chest plate, but one of his wild swings strikes a hard blow at my sword which sends me crashing backwards into Rian. We tumble to the ground with our opponent looming over us, grimacing, his teeth blood-stained. He swings at the air above me and again he misses horribly. It’s puzzling to me that it really seems like he can’t see us, even though we’re sprawled on the ground right in front of him. He whirls to meet Cort, who looks a bit pale now, and the ground beneath us shudders. Just as Rian raises a hand to cast, Bryse crashes over us both, his right foot landing just a finger’s breadth from crushing my hand. I look away as his sword finds its mark deep in our opponent’s skull.

“Spirits in these woods,” Cort spits blood as he slides his own sword from his own opponent. “I don’t like it.”

“Least they seemed to be on your side,” Bryse claps him on the back and they turn toward the bursts of magical battle. “I’m up to six, you?”

“Bah, four. And a half. I think that one’s asleep.” He jabs his sword to point at our sleeping opponent.

“Rian got him,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. I give a hand up to Rian, who is watching the other two curiously.

“Back into it?” asks Bryse, not bothering to acknowledge either of us.

“With pleasure,” Cort grins, and the two jog off to the tree line.

“Not even a greeting?” I frown at Rian as we follow them.

“It’s strange,” he agrees.

Past the clearing’s edge, the battle belongs to the Mages. Uncle is holding his own against Redemption’s Mage, Rikstarn. They exchange endless bursts of spells: lightning, fire, ice, wind, until the trees around them are charred and iced and half blown-over.

“Leave it, Rik. We’re done!” A towering man calls from the opposite side of the small clearing.

“Dar,” I whisper, remembering the giant knight from my trial. Mya’s voice rises above the crash of magic with an eerie song, and Rik slowly lowers his hands, the mesmerizing effect of the music causing his eyes to glaze over. Dar curses and crashes into the clearing, grabs the Mage under his arm, and drags him off. They disappear quickly, accompanied by their own cleric, into the darkness of the forest. A streak of red darts after them.

“Was that a fox?” I ask Rian, but he doesn’t hear. He’s fixated on the others. Donal, Dacva, Mya, Uncle Gaethon, Cort, and Bryse stand in a semi-circle on the edge of what is clearly their destroyed camp, looking beaten and exhausted. Though we are just a few feet away, they don’t notice us as they talk quietly together. Rian takes my hand in his and we move closer, until we’re standing in front of them. Uncle looks up for a moment, but his eyes pass right through us and he turns back to Mya.

“It was an ambush,” he says as Rian waves his hand in front of his eyes. “Caught Donal and I by surprise. He used blindness. I should have expected it.”

“Rian, why can’t they see us?” I ask, watching him circle around his mother.

“We came through it,” Mya says, her eyes fixed on the point in the woods where the fox disappeared. “No worse for the wear.”

“I don’t know,” he tells me. “MUM!” He shouts in Mya’s ear. She turns her head vaguely in his direction but her full attention remains on the woods beyond.

“Speak for yourself,” Bryse grunts. “I got a splitting headache. And they burned our rations. I’m starved.”

“As always,” Cort shoves him.

“Elliot will have something for us to eat,” Mya says. “In the meantime, let’s recover what we can and then try to rest. I don’t think they’ll come back. They’ve only got three left. It’d be uneven in our favor, and they won’t have that.”

“Cowards,” Bryse grumbles, picking through a charred pack and pulling out a blackened hunk of bread.

“They’ll be going to the Outlands now,” Dacva says, drawing a map in the soot. “To pick up some friends. They won’t be back through here. That was the plan all along. They just had to put on a good show of it, in case they had to answer to the prince later.” Uncle raises a brow.

“And who do they expect to collect in the Outlands?” He asks, his voice thick with disdain.

“Anyone who’s left.” Dacva shrugs. I glance at Rian and we follow as the others move away from Dacva to whisper in secret.

“I don’t believe anything that creature utters,” Uncle hisses, “And I would advise you not to formulate any plans based on his information.”

“Yes, we all know how you feel about the boy, Gaethon,” Mya says gently, “but need I remind you that he’s saved our lives? Yours twice?”

“I have yet to be convinced that his allegiance has changed.”

“It’s not enough that he’s cast his weapon off and still aided us in battle?” Donal offers. “He is a fast learner. He shows real promise as a healer.”

“I can’t believe we’re standing here listening to them discuss whether or not Dacva makes a good ally. I feel like we’ve stepped into some awful other realm.” I gasp. “Have we, Rian? Is that why they can’t see or hear us?”

“I don’t know,” Rian scowls. “It’s all very strange.” I feel a tug at my wrist and I raise my arm up to eye level to see Flit squeezing herself up out of the diamond. She stops midway, sighing with relief as her wings stream out of the stone and rise slowly up. She rests her palms on the facets and pushes down, and she’s out from the waist up before she turns to me, her eyes wide.

“Azi! What are you—“ she squeezes herself the rest of the way out, sliding one leg from the shimmering surface and then the other with a little grunt. “Ungh, you aren’t supposed to see that. It’s not very graceful. Actually it’s a little embarrassing, having to squeeze out of there, but I couldn’t find you otherwise. Anyway, what are you doing here?” She sneezes and rubs her nose.

“Well, we teleported,” I start, “and then—“

“Wait, where’s here?” Rian asks.

“Oh, stinky Mage is here, too!” She circles around him, sniffing, and sneezes again. “Not so stinky anymore though. Actually, you smell kinda nice. Like, ah...” she takes in a deep breath, “Pine. And berries. And pine berries. Or are they pine nuts? I don’t like those so much. Not very sweet. So, how did you get here? Oh! We’re going to have such fun now!” She darts around us and then flies over to Bryse, who’s occupying himself by peeling the charred crust off of the loaf to get to the white inside. “Don’t know how you can eat that stuff,” she says to him.

“He can’t hear us. None of them can,” I say.

“Nope, but he can feel us! Watch!” She flies up and tickles his nose, and he reaches up and scratches it.

“Flit!” Rian says sternly. “Where’s here?”

“Oh! You want to play!” She giggles. “Yes, me too. Let’s go someplace that isn’t so dead, though. It’s not very fun here.’ She comes to settle on our clasped hands and starts to close her eyes.

“Wait, Flit! We don’t want to go anywhere else,” I say, “We came to help them. If we leave, we might not be able to find them again.”

“Oh,” she sighs, disappointed, and sneezes three more times. “Oh! What if we make it easy to get back to them?”