Feynard (68 page)

“Stolen
… kill!” Brian moaned, swivelling to face his fallen foe. “You don’t know what you’ve done, brother … what I was …”

And he lunged forward, raising the knife.

*  *  *  *

In the aftermath, stillness shrouded the Sacred Grove like the hush before rebirth.

Kevin’s gaze lit on Alliathiune. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. And his blue hand, which held the Unicorn’s horn, blazed in the throes of a glorious light, shimmering like a coiled rainbow held at arm’s length.

Brian stopped mid-lunge as
though he had run into a wall. A low grunt of surprise spilled from his lips. He coughed and staggered backward a step.

There
between them stood Zephyr, his pristine condition spoiled by a daub of crimson on his horn where he had speared the Dark Apprentice through the heart.

T
he Unicorns set up
a tent for the wounded there at the Sacred Grove. Zinfandir, the noted healer, spent several turns fussing with his patients, especially the Druid Amadorn, who lay in a coma and had not responded to treatment. Kevin, dosed up to the eyeballs with Aïssändraught, snoozed most of the lighttime away and awoke to the warm beam of an orange-golden sunset peeping in through the flap of the large, square pavilion tent.

He had dreamed about being run over by a Lurk. He definitely felt that way!
But he needed no reminding that the Dark Apprentice had been defeated; it felt unreal, but there it was.

“Mighty High Wizard wake?”

Kevin eyeballed his X’gäthi guard with a grimace. “I don’t suppose I’m ever going to train you out of it, am I?”

“Mighty–?”

“Put a jolly cork in it, old chap. Never mind. I’m just being a grouch.”

Evidently keen to follow orders, the X’gäthi immediately rushed off to find his superiors. In short order, Zephyr and the Mancat slipped into the tent, followed by
the gigantic Lurk, the Owl Two Hoots, and the Jasper Cat. Even old Bock appeared to prop Kevin up against a preposterously plush pillow, taking him right back to when he had first arrived in Driadorn. But that was the old Kevin.

After much congratulations and back-slapping and prancing on the Unicorn’s part, and an awkward apology from the Jasper Cat, there came a lull in the conversation.

Kevin said brightly, “Look, Snatcher. Two of your mates.”

Insofar
as two large, multi-ton Lurks could be said to giggle coquettishly, these two Lurks regarded Snatcher from outside the tent with what Kevin assumed must be winsome smiles, coy giggles, and a come-hither fluttering of their nictitating membranes.

One of them burbled, “Oh, Snatcher, why don’t we go find a nice dark little swamp–you and us, together?”

Kevin coughed and spluttered at the priceless look in Snatcher’s eyes.

“You’ll miss the celebratory dinner,” Zephyr said, with just a touch of acid in his tone. “I would put my house in order, noble Lurk. No female is going to speak to me like that!”

With a growl of amusement, Snatcher lumbered through the tent flap and tucked one mate beneath each arm, ignoring their wriggling and feeble protests. He turned to give Zephyr a very smug smile. “Just you wait, noble Unicorn.”

And he strode off toward the river.

“Well!” huffed the Unicorn. “I, for one, would appreciate certain delicacy between civilised creatures in such matters!”

Kevin burst out laughing. “Zephyr, you are nothing but an old stick sometimes.”

“I am not!” he stomped his forehoof. “You take that back, you insufferable little–”

“There’s
no need for violence, good Unicorn.”

Zephyr whirled at the
sound of Alliathiune’s low voice. The Dryad stepped into the tent on the Dryad Queen’s arm. She wore a long, striking green dress, gathered to the waist with a cloth belt of stylised vines, soft slippers on her feet, and a delicate golden circlet of flowers adorned her hair, which cascaded over her right shoulder and down to her waist. The Dryadic patterning on her eyes and cheeks had been subtly highlighted with makeup–at least, he assumed so–and Indomalion’s bright gaze her velvet skin gleam with all its natural sparkle.

Kevin
’s cheeks developed pink spots at once. “Uh … gosh, you do scrub up a treat, Alliathiune!” he managed, and would gladly have chewed off his stupid tongue and tossed it into the remains of Shadowmoon Keep.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, you look amazing!”

Alliathiune nodded graciously, every inch the Queen’s niece. “I come to bid you welcome to the table of celebration, noble creatures all,” she
announced. “Although many battles face us in the coming seasons, this lighttime we may boast of a great triumph for Driadorn and for our Mother Forest. Are you able to join us, noble Kevin?”

Kevin would gladly have crossed Feynard for her bedazzling smile. “I think I could be persuaded,
noble Alliathiune, if you’d grant me a moment to freshen up.”

Bock laid out clothes for him and gently shooed the other creatures out of the tent. Kevin took the fastest bucket-and-cloth bath in the history of Driadorn–especially given as the water was invigoratingly chilly–and ducked out of the tent. The Sacred Grove still had six trees
left of the original magnificent seven, but the fallen tree must have been cleared away, he realised, while they journeyed to recover the Magisoul.

Flaming torches lit a trestle-style table not far from
his tent. He jumped as a small hand slipped into the crook of his elbow. “Feeling better, good Kevin?”

“Where did you spring from?” He tempered his tone by smiling down at Alliathiune. “Gosh, you really are a sprite, aren’t you?”

“Had you met a Sprite, you’d know what an insult that is,” she retorted. “Sprites are cruel and capricious. Quite the opposite of Dryads.” She patted his arm. “For a Mighty High Wizard, you certainly have a few things to learn about Feynard.”

“Well, this is a sore-ribbed, wrung out, and ravenous Wizard,” he said, “and something smells perfectly scrumptious over there. Say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a leaf or a twig in your hair.”

“To borrow one of your Earth phrases–thin ice, good Kevin. Thin ice.”

“How are your burns? I’m terribly–”

“They’re minor,” said the Dryad, waving that idea away. “Leaping down my top, now that’s a different issue. But come, everyone is waiting at table for you.”

The creatures gathered around the table greeted Kevin with a great cheer and toast after toast. Kevin soon finished a goblet of berry wine, but after that he gamely moved to fruit juice, despite a great deal of teasing. Lesson learned! The Honeybears brought course after course of delicious foods to the table–vegetable soups and bakes, puff pastries, roasted nuts, dips and nibbles, and a mountain of roast eel for the Lurks. Much laughter and chatter flowed between the creatures of the Forest. Kevin was made to tell the tale of their adventures all over again, with endless interruptions from Zephyr until he and Alliathiune started on one of their good-natured arguments and Kevin shouted both of them
down, to his surprise.

Later, replete with
good food and feeling his eyelids growing heavy, Kevin stood up and wandered over to examine the great cask–taller than he was–from which the Honeybears were keeping the Lurks supplied with a special type of ale, a great Lurkish favourite called
lukêla
in their tongue. From there his pensive eye fell upon the gathering. How strange it was for a Human to keep company with Honeybears and Unicorns, Dryads and Lurks, Owls and Cats, he thought! And the strange, dark X’gäthi. He wished Amadorn could have been there to share a song to cheer his spirits, and he missed Akê-Akê, Glimmering of Dawn, and even the Witch. Life would be strange indeed without Father and Brian.

What had become of that Kraleon creature, he wondered? Did it even now stalk the leafy halls of the Forest, seeking another Dark Wizard to raise up against Driadorn? In a way, he pitied Brian. He had been a fool to summon the creature in the first place.

If, as Brian claimed, the creature of shadow in the last chamber had not been Omäirg, then who had he been? Yet another Dark Wizard? An Elemental Dragon of Shadow? Was Alliathiune right, that Humans were easily corrupted into Dark Wizards? Could Kevin Jenkins hope to prevent what somehow seemed inevitable?

“A fig for your thoughts, good outlander?”

Kevin turned. It was the Dryad Queen. She stood a short ways off, not taking his arm this time–perhaps she did not dare. Or was she treating him as her sister Dryads treated Alliathiune? Why, woman, he asked silently, are you blackmailing your niece? And he tried to face her openly, without showing the wariness which clouded his heart.

“I was thinking of the future, good Queen,” he said, “of the battles to be fought, the enemies we defeated and those we learned of, and of the fact that the Sacred Grove is not yet whole.”

“I thank you for all you have done for Driadorn,” said the Queen. “You are truly the champion our Dryad Seer dreamed of. This place–the Elliarana and the Sacred Well–are the heart of all of Driadorn’s magic, the heart and soul of all that is good and unique and holy about this Forest. And I would do anything to protect it.”

“It is
not whole,” Kevin said lightly, “and I fear for the Forest’s magic, especially in this time of great trial and upheaval. Surely, it would be better if the Sacred Grove were made whole once more, noble Queen?”

“We Dryads seek the same, with all our hearts,” replied the Queen, her beautiful face serene in the firelight. “The Elliarana are one of the great mysteries of the Forest, good Kevin, and the knowledge of their planting has been lost for many generations of Dryads. But we will seek, and pray, and know that as surely as the seasons turn, Elliadora will supply our need.” She drew a little closer and lowered her voice. “The life of a Dryad Seer is a lonely calling. Alliathiune will need your lo
ve more than ever at this time–if, truly, you do love her?”

“I do.”

Suddenly, clearly, he heard the Jasper Cat call out, “Tell me, noble Seer, when will the Elliarana recover from the Blight?”

It was one of those moments when there is a lull in the conversation and a voice rings clear. Though he did not raise his voice, there was not one creature at the celebration who did not hear his question.

Alliathiune’s back stiffened perceptibly as many heads turned to regard her. She said, “To the best of our knowledge, good Jasper Cat, the Forest’s magic will recover when the circle of Elliarana is complete–when there is a new seedling planted in the Sacred Grove.”

“I see. And what happens after that?”

By her reaction, she had expected a different question. After gathering her thoughts, she replied in measured tones, “Well, I suppose we will travel to Thaharria-brin-Tomal, to the Ardüinthäl, for noble Kevin has promised to attempt the resurrection of the Tomalia who are interred there.”

A great hubbub broke out amongst the assembled creatures a
t these words.

But then
Alliathiune excused herself from the table, and hurried off into the darkness. She was almost running.

“Go to her now,” said the Dryad Queen. “She needs your comfort.”

“I will, o Queen.”

The Dryad Queen had lied
, too. He had to break the circle of lies.

Kevin stepped away from the circle of light, searching with his eyes. A flutter of cloth down toward the
Rhiallandran River caught his eye. He turned to follow the Dryad. Only she held the answers he sought.

*  *  *  *

“Alliathiune?”

She startled. “
Kevin?”

“
I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“No. Please, sit down.”

He did, and moreover, draped his arm about her shoulders and ventured a quick squeeze. “I came to see if you were alright. After this lighttime’s events, the Forest just doesn’t seem as safe as before.”

“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard you concoct, you silly man.”

Kevin drew a breath and teased, “You ungrateful wretch! Here your knight and protector dons arms and sallies into the blackest darktime to rescue his fair maiden, and she’s prattling on about lame excuses. As if we haven’t just been through the hardest lighttime of our lives. Honestly, Alliathiune … words fail me.”

“Are
you
alright?” she asked. “In two lighttimes you have seen both your father and brother killed. How are you feeling?”

“Fairly rotten about all that
,” he admitted. Drat her insightfulness, seeing right through to the thing which had been bothering him all evening. But he answered candidly, “I feel glad that they’re gone from my life, but I feel bad that I feel glad. Having killed Father, I fear that I have in some way become the monster he was. I’m afraid.”

“Oh,
Kevin.”

Her sigh was just a breath above the lapping waters, felt rather than heard.
Kevin stared blankly over the river to the silhouettes of the trees beyond.

“I learned something about myself
this lighttime,” he said. “I learned the power of sacrifice. The only way to defeat Brian, especially with the Magisoul augmenting his powers, was to open myself to the magic and let it sear through me and out into the Forest. If I had resisted him, even one little bit, I would have been annihilated. I was completely vulnerable at that point, yet I was not. Do you understand?”

“I think
so.”

“I am naturally selfish,
Alliathiune. If there is one thing that I wish I could have changed about me when I first came to Feynard, it would have been that.” He chuckled. “Do you remember how I mangled your name when we first met?”

“Yes, and you told me in no uncertain terms that I should be supremely grateful for your presence in Feynar
d. You made me so furious!”

Once more, his tongue formed words before he could stop them. “Are you? Are
you glad now, after all that we’ve been through?”