The Cypher Wheel (22 page)

Faedra straightened. “Is it still there?”

“Yes, my lady. I just put it all into piles and
stacked it in the corner for when he came back. I'm hoping he will
come back. As you can tell, I'm not really suited as a 'meeter and
greeter'.”

Faedra smiled but didn't comment. “Can you show us
those papers?”

“Yes, my lady. Please follow me.” Aberthol turned and
headed into the bushes.

“You know, this being famous thing has its perks,”
Faedra said to her Guardian as they followed Aberthol through the
bushes. “Shame it doesn't have the same affect in my world.”

Faen raised an eyebrow.

“What? I'm just saying,” Faedra continued.

Faedra was deep in thought as she followed Faen and
Aberthol, who were deep in conversation themselves, to Todmus's
cottage. They were halfway across the glade before Faedra thought
of it. The ear-splitting whistle she let forth from her lips had
Faen jerk to a stop and Aberthol covering his ears. They both
turned.

It was obvious from the strained expression on
Aberthol's face that he was biting his lip not to say something
derogatory. Faedra had to give him credit; she could only imagine
the expletives he would like to throw her way by the look on his
face and the energy he was throwing off. After a few seconds he
managed to smooth out his features to an expression that less
implied his intent to see nasty things happen to her. She made a
mental note to ask where her father had found such a distasteful
creature to be, what was essentially, Azran's version of a Wal-Mart
greeter.

“What was that for?” Aberthol asked, in a much less
confrontational way than Faedra would have imagined.

Faen raised his eyebrows, waiting for the answer.

“Hold on a minute,” Faedra answered before putting
her fingers in her mouth to blow another whistle. Aberthol covered
his ears again.

The two men followed Faedra's line of sight as she
scanned the sky above the tree tops ahead of them.

“Well, wherever he went, he must have taken Aesti
with him,” Faedra said to Faen a few minutes later when nothing
materialized in the sky. They continued on towards the cottage.

Aberthol looked up at the sky for another moment
before scratching his head and scuttling after the Custodian. “What
is an Aesti?” he asked.

“It doesn't matter. He's obviously not here.”

The latch on the door made its familiar chink as
Aberthol pushed down on it. The door swung open to reveal a
halfhearted attempt at clearing up a complete mess. This wasn't
like Todmus, Faedra thought as she and Faen ducked their heads to
enter the diminutive building. Todmus was meticulous with his
things. His cottage was always immaculate. Not now. The wall that
housed row upon row of herbs and other ingredients was in disarray.
Faedra wandered over and stood in front of the shelves, hands on
hips. Half empty jars lay on their sides, the contents spilling out
onto the work surface. Odd colored concoctions sat in discarded
mixing containers. Faedra picked one up out of curiosity, took a
sniff and wrinkled her nose at the stench that wafted from it.
Whatever Todmus was up to, it looked like he was starting to get
very obsessive about it.

“It is probably not a good idea to smell anything,
Faedra,” Faen said.

“You've got that right,” Faedra agreed, replacing the
foul smelling potion back on the counter. Whatever it was supposed
to be, she couldn't imagine it being for anything good. She turned
to scan the rest of the cottage. “What were you up to, Todmus?” she
mumbled under her breath.

“Here they are, my lady.” Aberthol interrupted her
thoughts, scuttling towards her with his arms full of papers and
rolls of parchments.

“Thanks.” Faedra leaned over and took the pile from
him and placed it on the table. “Well, I guess we should try and
figure out what he was up to; it might help us figure out where he
went,” she said to Faen, who had already joined her at the table.
She split the pile in two and handed half to Faen. “Here, you look
through these and I'll see if I can find anything in this lot.”

A few minutes later, Faedra puffed out a breath,
which lifted her hair from her forehead. “This is useless,” she
said. “I don't understand a word of this.” She licked a finger and
leafed through some more pages, finally shoving them aside in
exasperation. “None of this is written in English.”

“It is not Azranian, either,” Faen noted, as he
continued to leaf through his pages.

“Hold on a moment,” Faedra said, pulling the cypher
wheel from its pouch and laying it on top of her discarded papers.
She pointed to one of the wheels and then to the page Faen had come
to a stop at. “It's Ogham, that's why. We're not going to find
anything useful in this lot if we can't even read it.”

A wave of excitement hit Faedra. She turned to see
Aberthol, who was staring at the cypher wheel with wide eyed
curiosity.

At Faedra's questioning look, the little man said,
“I've seen that before, or something very similar.”

“The cypher wheel? Where?”

Aberthol leaned over the table and rummaged through
the pages, throwing the ones he didn't want over his shoulder,
scattering papers all around him. He was almost done carpeting the
floor with Todmus's notes when he found the page he was looking for
and held it up in triumph. “Here!” he exclaimed.

Faedra plucked the page from his stubby fingers. She
held it so Faen could see, all the while looking from the page to
Faen and back to the page again. “Are you thinking what I'm
thinking?” she asked her Guardian.

“If you are thinking that Todmus was able to make his
portal work, then, yes, I am thinking what you are thinking.”

Faedra grabbed the grumpy dwarf by either side of his
face and planted a kiss on his ruddy cheek.

“Thank you, Aberthol. You've been a great help,”
Faedra said before letting him go. The stunned little man reeled
back a step, his cheeks flame red. Faedra turned and winked at her
Guardian. “Come on, Faen. We need to go see my father. You're
flying,” she said as if she had just given him the keys to the
car.

“We do? Which one?” Faen asked as he turned to follow
her out the door.

“The royal one.”

“Why?”

“We need to break Allora out of jail.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Explain to me again why we need to ask your father
to release Allora from the dungeons,” Faen asked as they flew high
above the floral valley that led to Azran city. “I am not so sure
that your father will agree to it. What proof do you have that she
is, in fact, Allora?”

“I don't have any proof. But it stands to reason,
doesn't it? If Vivianna is in Allora's body then surely Allora
should be in Vivianna's body. Don't you think?”

Faen's expression showed Faedra he agreed with her
assumption. “But that still does not explain why you feel the need
to release her.”

“Well, for one, she shouldn't be there. She's spent
far too much time in a dungeon already. I can't bear the thought of
an innocent women, even if she is dressed in wolf's clothing right
now, being locked up for no good reason. And secondly, I think
having her with us may be to our advantage. I can't explain why at
the moment, it's just a feeling I have.”

“Well, let us hope your father has the same feeling,”
Faen said as he lowered his charge to the ground outside the huge
wooden doors of the castle.

***

“No! Absolutely not,” the king boomed, without giving
the question his daughter had just asked a second of consideration.
“I cannot believe you would ask me such a thing.”

Faedra was afraid that might be the reaction she
received but kept her chin high and proud. “If you'll just let me
explain...” she continued.

“I said NO!” the king bellowed before he spun around
turning his back on her.

Faedra's expression turned from one of annoyance to
one of shock as she took a blow to the stomach and stepped back.
Reeling from the pain that slammed into her, winding her as surely
as if she'd just been punched with a fist. It wasn't physical pain.
It was emotional, and it belonged to her father. She put her hands
on her thighs to steady herself before looking up at him again. His
back was to her now, his head hung low. She knew that broaching the
subject of Vivianna would probably be a bit touchy. She had no
idea, however, the extent of which his other daughter's betrayal
had hurt him.

Faen was standing over her now, his hand lightly
rubbing her upper back. Faedra steadied her breathing and turned
her attention to her Guardian. The worry she saw in his eyes
saddened her even more. How could one person cause so much anguish
for so many people? Were you born with that potential or was it a
learned trait?

She reassured the man she loved with a smile as she
straightened up. “I'm okay,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

There were two of her own emotions fighting for top
spot in her head at that moment. One of them she knew inherently
was wrong and not her. She forced it back with all her might
allowing the other emotion free rein.

The next few steps she took felt like lead shoes
adorned her feet. The overwhelming desire to give comfort was
foreshadowed by doubt. Doubt that the formidable man standing on
the other side of the desk would accept any. She'd never had the
chance to get close to her real father; it was only a short while
ago that she'd found out about him. Since then she'd more or less
declared herself a recluse until Etyran had convinced her to go on
the treasure hunt. Up until that time, she had not allowed anyone
near her, other than her dad and her three close friends, the
otherworldly ones. She couldn't have allowed her human friends near
for fear of hurting them.

She suddenly had an intense urge to know more about
this man. Why now? She couldn't explain it to herself other than
for the first time since she had known him; he was acting more like
a dad than a king. She wondered what it would feel like to be held
by him. He'd never even touched her other than their first meeting
when he lifted her chin to examine her features, telling her how
much like her mother she looked. His words had confused her at the
time but made perfect sense when she found out who she was. Would
her body know he was her father if he did wrap his arms around her?
Would she feel like she was betraying her 'dad' if she let him?

Before she had a chance to answer any of her own
questions, her hand was resting on the king's shoulder. She
couldn't remember taking the steps to reach him but now she was
there, staring up at the back of his dark green velvet robes. Her
stomach did cartwheels. Was that nerves? Was she nervous?

She felt the king stiffen under her fingers, his head
lifted. Oh, this was so the wrong thing to do. What made her think
a king would want to be comforted? Wouldn't that be a sign of
weakness? She was just about to pull her hand away and take a step
back when the pain he was emanating fell away. It was the strangest
feeling she'd ever had, as though droplets of water had broken free
and were splashing to the floor. The pain dissipated all around
them.

The king turned.

Faedra's breath caught in her throat. Her hand fell
away from his shoulder as he turned to look at her. His eyes,
glistening with unshed tears, stared back at her, his face a mask
of sadness.

“I'm sorry,” she found herself saying. She fleetingly
wondered why it was that Brits apologized for things that weren't
their fault.

“None of this is your fault, Faedra,” the king said
in somber tones.

“Yeah, I know,” Faedra agreed.

The king's brow furrowed at her sarcastic retort.

“That was Savu talking, not me,” Faedra explained. “I
can't always keep him quiet and he's starting to butt in at the
worst possible moments.”

The king's brow went from furrowed to raised.

What happened next, surprised not only Faedra but the
king himself. Faedra knew this because she was suddenly wrapped in
strong arms and being held against a hard chest covered in soft
velvet. The feeling of surprise from the king swiftly turned to
warmth, then love. Overwhelming love.

Faedra's body went limp against her father. Relief
making her legs turn to jelly. The king held her up; he wasn't
about to let her go now.

The softness of her father's robes felt comforting
against her cheek; she closed her eyes and breathed in deep. He
smelled clean and spicy, much as she imagined a man of power to
smell. Then she realized one of her questions was answered. Her
body did know this man was her father.

The king rested his chin on her head. “My dear child,
how could I forget the constant struggle you are now dealing
with?”

For one fleeting moment, Faedra wanted to stay right
where she was, in the safe and comforting confines of her father's
arms, but she knew that was not an option. She pushed herself away
and looked up at a warm face that smiled back at her. She cherished
it for a second; for she knew his face would harden in the next
breath.

“I have to take her. With or without your
permission.”

Faedra winced as her father's loving energy was
sucked away in a heartbeat, just as she imagined it would be.

“I will not hear of this,” the king growled.

“Just come and see her,” Faedra pleaded. “You will
see she is not Vivianna anymore but an innocent woman called
Allora. Vivianna is running free in Drofoz right now and I need
Allora to help me put Vivianna back where she belongs.”

The king scrubbed his face. He may be formidable when
it comes to his enemies, but dealing with his daughter was turning
out to be quite a different matter. He leveled his gaze at Faen.
“What say you, Guardian? Do you believe that someone else's spirit
now resides in my daughter's body?”