Isle of Winds (The Changeling Series Book 1) (29 page)

“Not bad really,” Karya said, grunting under Robin’s weight. His head was lolling on her shoulder, utterly spent, almost unconscious. “For a hornless wonder, at least.”

Robin heard their voices, far off and muffled. The sunlight around him seemed too bright, bouncing up off the sand.
I’m
going
to
pass
out
, he thought to himself.
So
very
,
very
tired
. The godlike feeling was gone. His vision blurred and he just had time to think about how un-heroic it would be if he threw up all over himself.

“There’s a light coming out of his chest,” he heard Henry say, worry in his voice. “I’m pretty sure that’s not normal. What’s happening to him?”

If Karya replied, Robin didn’t hear her.

Chapter Twenty Five –
The Beginnings

The room was huge and pitch black. Robin couldn’t see a thing around him.

“You did well, Robin,” a voice came softly from somewhere in the darkness.

”Who are you?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“Hidden,” came the reply. “For now at least. You need to rest, Robin. You have taken on a great deal of late.”

“I feel fine,” Robin replied, blinking uselessly in the utter blackness. It was true.

“Of course you do,” said a second voice. “But then you are dreaming after all.”

“I like it here,” Robin decided. “It’s peaceful. Can I stay with you?”

“Of course not,” said the first voice, not unkindly. “You’re not really here anyway. You have places to go and much to do.”

“Sorry about that,” the second voice added, not sounding very sorry at all. “There is so much to do.”

“And less time than once we had,” the first voice agreed.

A third voice suddenly came out of the darkness.

“Snakes and ashes, Robin! Are you going to sleep the day away? You’ll be late for school, you know.”

“Gran?” Robin turned, confused in the darkness, or at least he thought he did. It was hard to tell. “Now I know I’m dreaming.”

“Not quite, my boy. You are here because what you have done has left ripples throughout the Netherworlde.
They
are dreaming of
you
.”

“They?”

“Time to wake up,” Gran’s voice cackled. “Stop bothering the good folk. Let them rest … for now.”

* * *

Robin opened his eyes slowly. He felt groggy and stiff, as though he had been in a deep sleep for a long time – which as he would later discover, he had. He was lying on his back staring up at a peaked white plaster ceiling, criss-crossed with dark wooden rafters. It was very quiet.

The ceiling above looked oddly familiar, but he had been through so many strange experiences recently that it took him a moment to realise that he was actually lying in a soft bed, and that he was staring up at his own bedroom ceiling. He was in his tower at Erlking Hall.

Robin sat up in bed far too suddenly, causing his vision to swim. He blinked rapidly, looking around. It was true. He was in his own bed. The room looked as it always did, if considerably tidier than usual. The diamond paned window was slightly open, letting in a cool breeze and the bright crisp sunlight. The only noise in the room was a soft and peaceful snoring next to him. Henry was sitting in a chair next to his bed, a book slumped on his chest. He was fast asleep, sprawled in an ungainly manner. The boy looked better now; healthy, peaceful and back to normal.

Careful not to wake his sleeping friend, Robin slipped out of bed, and crossed on watery legs to his wardrobe, opening the squeaking door. He looked at himself critically in the dark-spotted mirror inside.

He also looked perfectly normal. His hair was blonde, eyes blue. There were no horns sprouting from his head, ghostly or otherwise. He felt carefully in his hair with his fingertips to be sure.

He was his own, usual, unremarkable self again. No sign of Puck.

Also, no sign of pain either. His left arm felt fine and there wasn’t the slightest twinge from his back. Turning around, he hiked his shirt up and looked back over his own shoulder, staring at the marks left by the skriker. There were four long thin white lines, pale silvery scars stretching from his right hip to his left shoulder. It could have been a lot worse, he reasoned. It should have been. Perhaps fae heal better than humans?

Noticing for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his mana stone, he glanced about the room. The seraphinite stone lay in a small silver dish atop his chest of drawers. Robin shrugged his t-shirt back on and crossed the room. As soon as he slipped his mana stone on, he felt better. More himself.

The small voice in his head, the force that had taken him over back at the Isle of Winds, seemed also to be gone. No, he corrected himself. Not gone. But it had receded to where it had always been.

“You’re awake!” Henry suddenly yelled, leaping up from the chair, making Robin jump with surprise.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up!” Henry grinned. “We all thought you were done for back when you passed out on the beach. To tell the truth Rob, you looked bloody awful!”

“Thanks a bunch,” Robin said.

“No, really,” Henry insisted, staring earnestly. “
Really
awful.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Robin said wryly. “How did we get back here? Where is everyone? And what day is it anyway?”

The door to the bedroom opened and Woad and Karya burst in the room.

“Pinky!” Woad cried. “Told you I heard him talking,” he said to Karya. “No one has sharper ears than this faun.”

“Welcome back, Scion,” Karya said. “Are you…” she began hesitantly. “Is everything…?”

“I’m just me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Robin said.

Karya gave one of her odd half smiles. “Happy New Year by the way,” she said. “Henry and Woad have been taking shifts sitting with you since we got back.”

“You haven’t?” Robin teased.

Karya rolled her eyes. “Don’t be impractical,” she said. “I didn’t see how it would help. You’d either heal and wake up or you wouldn’t. My being here would hardly make a difference.” She flicked a thumb at Woad and Henry. “These two are sentimental-old-lady-types, though.”

“You’re as heartwarming as ever, I see,” Robin said, laughing. Then he frowned. “What do you mean, Happy New Year?”

“It’s the tenth of January, mate,” Henry told him. “Like I said, you’ve been out for a while now.”

“The tenth of January?” Robin cried, staggered. “But…”

“No more questions,” Karya said bossily. “First things first, put on some proper trousers. Those silly pyjamas are unsuitable for a serious conversation. I can’t abide polka dots. And then second things second, come downstairs. There’s a lot you need to talk about.”

Karya would not be pressed further, and she ushered Woad and Henry out of the room as well.

Robin dressed as quickly as he could and made his way downstairs. Irene was waiting for him in the hall, her hands clasped patiently before her.

“Aunt Irene!” Robin almost ran down the steps. “You’re alright? I mean, you’re not stone anymore!”

“Indeed, my nephew,” Irene smiled tightly, looking at him over the top of her half-moon glasses. She gestured to her study door as Robin reached the foot of the stairs. “I understand that you have only recently awoken and are probably still convalescing, but if you would feel up to it, there is much we need to discuss, my young ward.”

Robin nodded, following his aunt into her rooms. She sat by the fire. Robin took a seat opposite her.

“Before we discuss recent events, Robin, there is something I must first do,” the old woman looked very grim. She looked directly into his eyes.

“I need to apologise to you,” she said.

Robin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I am truly sorry, Robin,” Irene continued. “I am your guardian. My job, as the title implies, is to guard you. To offer you sanctuary and protection from those who mean you harm. I am ashamed to say it, but I have failed rather spectacularly in this duty.”

Robin opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a raised hand.

“Indeed, were it not for your own ingenuity and resourcefulness, both myself and Mr Drover would still be a pair of rather unattractive statues gracing the main hallway. Although, I should add that at least we would be polished and cobweb free. Poor Hestia took very good care of our upkeep in your absence, after her own fashion. I’m not sure she knew what else to do with us.” She smiled briefly. “Indeed, I can still taste beeswax polish every time I lick my lips.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Robin insisted. “Moros fooled all of us the same. No one knew that he wasn’t really Phorbas.”

Irene sighed, looking sad.

“I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without Woad and Karya,” Robin confessed.

Irene looked at him for a long time, her face inscrutable. “Very well,” she said at length. “You are a remarkable person, Robin Fellows.”

She sat back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap neatly. “Now, I suppose you would like bringing up to date, as there is much that has happened since you took to your bed…”

Irene explained the events of the past few days, occasionally jabbing at the fire with a silver poker as she recounted everything that Robin had missed.

“Hestia was … rather inconsolable when your friends explained the reason why Mr Phorbas was not with you,” Irene said, frowning into the fire. “I feel rather terrible for her you know. She can be difficult, but she did not deserve to be used by someone like Moros.”

Hestia had tended Robin’s wounds. “She is a skilled herbalist,” Irene said. “You were in good hands.” She looked up from the crackling fire. “I am afraid you will carry the scars on your back for the rest of your life, Robin. But that is not always a bad thing. Better to have them to remind you, than not and to forget,” she said. “Your friends were all most concerned for your wellbeing. And also, I think, a little in awe of you.” She paused for a moment. “They told me what happened to you on the Isle of Winds.”

She reached into a drawer in the table behind her and took out a small orb.

“The shard which had possessed you.” It was round now and seemed to be made from deep blue glass flecked with streaks and whorls of white and silver. It looked for all the world like an expensive paperweight. Irene handed it gently to Robin.

“It appears to be quite inert … for now,” she said, and Robin handled it gently. No waves of power flowed from it. It felt slightly warmer than it should, but was otherwise utterly unremarkable.

“This is a shard of the Arcania, Robin,” Irene said. “One of seven, which came into being when the Arcania itself was shattered. No one knows where the other six lie. It is one of the most powerful and dangerous objects in this world or the Netherworlde. And it is yours.”

Robin stared at the globe. In its depths, the tiny flecks of white seemed to move.

He held it out to his aunt. “I’d like you to have it,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. The fire crackled in the hearth between them in the cosy study.

“I would be honoured to take stewardship of it for you, Robin,” she said eventually, taking it back. “I shall keep it safe, until such time as you may need it.”

Robin smiled. He felt oddly relieved. “Sounds good to me. I’m not ready for that kind of power.” He breathed out. “I’m not sure I ever will be.”

“All things in time, my young ward,” she replied. “Your temporarily amplified powers may have gone, but I expect you will find that your inherent skills in the Tower of Air will be somewhat stronger than they were previously.”

“Really?” Robin brightened up. His aunt nodded.

“I imagine your Galestrikes will carry more weight from now on.”

“I can’t wait to practise with—” Robin began, but stopped himself. He was about to say Phorbas. But, of course, Phorbas wasn’t there anymore. Phorbas had never been there.

Aunt Irene seemed to know exactly what Robin was thinking.

“I’m truly sorry about your tutor, Robin,” she said. “I knew Phorbas, the real Phorbas, for many years. I can attest that Moros’ impersonation was spot on. Phorbas was a remarkable satyr and a good friend.”

Robin glanced at the large writing desk behind Irene. Phorbas’ dagger lay there on the table’s surface, polished and gleaming.

“If Moros and Strife separated him, body and soul, he is not truly dead,” Irene said. “I know that it not much comfort to us. If only his body had not been lost, we could reunite them. But this way, at least his soul lives on within the dagger itself. It is yours now. He is still with us.”

Robin nodded, though he felt like a bowling ball had settled in his stomach.

“So what happens now?” he asked after a moment. After everything that had happened, his whole adventure in the Netherworlde, defeating Strife and Moros and gaining a shard of the Arcania, he was at a loss.

“Now?” his aunt cocked her head to one side. “Now we continue. We go on as before. You still have a lot to learn about the Netherworlde and the Towers of Magic. And you will need a new tutor of course. I shall look into the matter promptly. We shall continue your education. You have awakened a shard. The others will call out to you, and each other.” She stood up briskly. “I can, with some certainty, say that you are by far the most interesting nephew I have ever had.”

Robin stopped at the door on his way out of the room and turned. “Aunt Irene?” he said.

She looked up. “Yes, Robin?”

“There was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Robin said hesitantly. “The girl who brought me home, along with Woad and Henry…”

“Yes. The little wild-looking thing. She is a strange one, isn’t she?” Irene said. “And more than she seems, that’s for sure.” She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “But they are questions for me, not for you. What of her?”