by JA Andrews
Alaric reluctantly sat down next to her. Ayda held it out to him, but he shook his head. “I don’t want to touch it.”
“It keeps trying to pull me in, too.” She held the medallion so Alaric could look at it. “See these small tails on the lines? They connect the different strings of runes to each other. Like the ugliest flower chain I’ve ever seen.”
Alaric looked at the lines and felt himself pulled into the medallion. It was a gentle sinking, like falling asleep, but at its core, it felt malevolent. He braced his mind against the pull and studied the runes. Ayda was right. The entire design drew his eye in a serpentine path around the oval. There was no specific starting point, just a twisted loop.
The longer he looked at it, the stronger the pull.
Alaric blinked and looked away. “You’re right. The lines are important. It’s some sort of instructions. I can’t read all of it, but it talks about sacrifice, death, and”—he cast a troubled look at the medallion—”bleeding the life out of someone.”
Ayda crinkled her nose and tossed the oval to the ground near the fire. She wiped her hands off on her dress and stood.
Alaric’s eyes were drawn back to it. It looked like bronze, but it was missing something. Warmth, maybe. It was too muted to be bronze, as though it sucked in the light that hit it instead of reflecting it. It sat there, a blemish in the dirt, too dark to fit into the sunny day.
“So Gustav really is… evil?” Brandson sank down beside him. He looked hard at the medallion. “When we found out he was alive, I hoped… I don’t know what.”
“I haven’t seen anything this dark since Mallon was alive,” Alaric said.
“Did you know Gustav was really a wizard?”
“Yes, but I thought his powers were minimal,” Alaric said.
“I thought he was an idiot,” Douglon said dropping to the ground beside them.
“Maybe he’s a genius,” Milly said. “If he played a role that well for so long.”
“Impossible,” the dwarf said. “He’s too much of an idiot.”
Alaric looked back down at the medallion. It sat dull and slightly too dark. The dirt around it looked wholesome by comparison. Disconnected thoughts swirled in Alaric’s mind. This dark thing was Gustav’s. He hadn’t seen anything that dark since Mallon. The dragon couldn’t have been Gustav’s pet. Dragons weren’t pets. Gustav must have been controlling it. Gustav was good enough at manipulating things to control a dragon.
Thoughts of the oval, the dragon, and Gustav flitted through Alaric’s mind. His perfectly clear mind. His mind that had been fuzzy since the moment he had laid eyes on Ayda. Which was the exact moment he had laid eyes on Gustav. And his mind had been clear since Gustav had disappeared with the dragon.
The truth snapped into place.
How had he not seen it?
“Gustav is a Shade Seeker,” he said.
Across the clearing, Ayda froze. Slowly, she turned toward him, her face dark and frightening. Something terrifying glinted in her eyes. “My, my. We did underestimate the old man, didn’t we?”
Chapter Seventeen
Gustav was a Shade Seeker. If there had been any doubt in Alaric’s mind before about whether he was still a Keeper, the fact that he had traveled for four days with a Shade Seeker and never noticed settled it.
To have pulled that off, Gustav must be far more powerful than Alaric had thought. And the wizard had even fooled Ayda. She had figured out Alaric was a Keeper the first night he traveled with them, but she had lived at Brandson’s with Gustav for a quarter of a year. The thoughts swirled, dragging him farther into doubt. How was he going to find the Wellstone?
Douglon had tried to destroy Gustav’s medallion. He’d stomped on it, hit it with his axe, thrown it into the fire, but nothing had any effect on it. While the group numbly gathered their belongings, Alaric wrapped it in a cloth and buried it in the bottom of his pack. The oval didn’t exert any pull on him unless he looked at it, but the knowledge that it was there weighed down his pack in an unsettling way.
“Patlon might find us if we go back to Kordan’s Blight,” Brandson pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Douglon said. “We don’t have what he’s looking for. Whenever he shows up, I’ll talk to him. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
The group trudged back toward the village. Brandson tossed out idea after idea as to Gustav’s whereabouts, each as unlikely as the next. Douglon kept up a perpetual rumble under his breath, cursing the old wizard in every conceivable way and kicking rocks as he walked. Milly and Ayda, less gloomy than the others, pulled ahead a little and chatted.
“Not all trees are worth talking to,” Ayda explained to Milly. The elf was like a glitter of sunlight passing among the trees. “Whisperwillows are silly, and oaks think too highly of themselves, but a lot of trees are interesting.”
Douglon rolled his eyes and kicked the next rock at a tree.
“Can elves really change into trees?” Milly asked. “Does it feel… strange?”
“No, it’s lovely. You can drink in the sunshine, and rain on your leaves is the most beautiful feeling in the world.”
“I doubt it,” Douglon muttered.
Brandson walked up next to Alaric. “Are you going to follow Gustav?”
Alaric nodded. “I need the Wellstone. It holds information that I desperately need.”
“What kind of information can a stone hold?”
“An antidote.”
Brandson glanced at him, but didn’t press further. “How will you find him?”
“I don’t know. Shade Seekers have a keep at Sidion. If I can’t find Gustav there, maybe I can find some information about him.”
They had walked into a small clearing when Ayda spun toward the north and froze, her eyes boring through the trees. Alaric turned almost as fast, catching a snippet of a tune on the breeze. The others halted as well. The next gust of wind carried the sound of a whistled, jaunty tune.
“That’s not Patlon,” Douglon said. “Dwarves don’t whistle stupid songs. Sounds more like an elf if you ask me.”
Ayda ignored him, and Alaric motioned him to be quiet.
Another breeze brought the whistling back to their ears. This time, a throbbing hum could be heard as well. A low purr moving on the air like a warm blanket, wrapping around the things it passed.
“That’s lovely,” said Milly, pushing past Alaric and taking a step toward the trees.
Alaric grabbed her arm, making the blisters on his palm scream.
“Get her out of here!” Alaric commanded Brandson. “Caves! Are there caves nearby?”
Milly pulled her arm away from Alaric in irritation.
“Bear Stronghold’s not far,” Brandson said.
The humming and whistling grew closer. Milly smiled and took another step.
Alaric stepped in front of her and grabbed her by both arms, trying to hold on to her without hurting her, or his own hands, any more than he needed to. She shoved against him, glaring at Alaric, but he didn’t let go. “Take her,” he told Brandson.
“Knock it off!” Brandson said stepping between the Keeper and Milly.
“That is a borrey,” Alaric said. “Milly’s in grave danger.”
“Just mischievous little sprites. No danger,” scoffed Douglon.
“Borreys are all male,” Alaric said. “That humming you hear is a mating call. It will draw Milly in, she won’t be able to resist. They use women to reproduce.” Milly was trying to get past Brandson, her eyes fixed on the woods. “The woman does not survive the process.”
Milly attempted one more step toward the noise, but Brandson grabbed her.
“Get her to a protected place in the Stronghold,” Alaric instructed. “She won’t want to go. Get her there and keep her there however you can. And do it fast. Build a fire across the opening. A big one. Borreys hate fire.”
Brandson nodded and began to pull Milly across the clearing.
“Help him,�
� Alaric told Douglon. “You may need to carry her.”
Douglon hesitated, glancing at Ayda.
“I’m in no danger,” she said.
“Go,” Alaric urged the dwarf. “Brandson will need your help. We’ll come find you. Take this.” Alaric pressed Gustav’s small bottle into Douglon’s hand. “It’s Gustav’s fire powder. Sprinkle a little on something then strike it with a stick or a stone. It will ignite.”
Douglon took the bag and snorted. “This was how he started his ‘magical’ fires?”
“A little bit goes a long way,” warned Alaric.
Douglon flashed a wicked smile. “Will it kill the borrey?”
“Probably not, they’re hard to kill. But it should hold it at bay. We’ll try to give you some time.”
Douglon nodded and ran toward the edge of the clearing where Brandson stood tugging on Milly’s arm and pleading with her to follow him. The dwarf ran up, tossed Milly up onto his shoulder and darted off through the trees while she shrieked and pounded on his back. Brandson stared after them in shock.
“Show me the way!” the dwarf bellowed as he ran. Brandson ran after them.
Alaric nodded in approval, then turned back to Ayda.
“And you are still here because…?”
She was watching the woods in the direction of the whistling. “I don’t think I’m in any danger. I can help.”
Alaric didn’t know if borreys took elves for mates. He stood beside her, facing the coming creature. The humming grew louder, and Ayda’s eyes glazed. She shifted toward the trees.
“Ayda!” Alaric’s voice cracked like a whip. She blinked and looked at him. “You can’t be here. Run!”
“Too late,” Ayda said, seeing a flicker of movement deep in the trees. She stepped back, her eyes wide.
“I can’t protect you,” Alaric said, desperate. “If it takes control of you. You’ll fight me, too.”
“I know,” she said, clenching her jaw against the hum. She turned and focused on Alaric. “I can change. Can you help me change back?”
“I can help,” Alaric said. The whistling was getting louder. “But you don’t have time.”
“Of course I do. You’ve restored an elf before?”
When would he have had the chance to restore an elf from a tree back to their elfin form? “No. But I understand the process.”
“Understand the process?”
“You’d be doing the hard part, right? I just have to anchor you with an image to help you snap back to…”—he waved his hand at her—”…this. But you’re out of time. I saw Prince Elryn change into a tree, and it took almost five minutes. The elves thought that was fast. I can’t hold the borrey off that long.”
Ayda looked at Alaric sharply. “You were at the Tree of Hope when Elryn changed?” The humming grew still louder, and Ayda slapped her hands over her ears. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and hummed loudly, drowning out the sound of the borrey. She reached her arms up and took a deep breath in. Closing her eyes, she breathed out. Her feet and toes lengthened, followed by her arms and fingers. Her toes wriggled down into the earth, splitting into roots digging into the dirt. Her legs and torso thickened into a trunk. Her hair flowed along her branches and burst into bright green leaves. By the end of the breath, she had transformed into a slender, silvery tree. Only her face, an oddly tree-like face, remained. It had taken mere seconds. Alaric stared at her dumbfounded.
“An elf, Keeper,” she said to him, her voice barely audible. “Help me change back to an elf.”
He looked blankly at her for a heartbeat. “Can elves change into anything else?”
“No,” she answered, and the tree mouth twitched into a small smile as her face hardened and faded into the trunk.
There was a rustling at the edge of the clearing, and a short young man with wide-set green eyes stepped out of the trees. The creature might have been mistaken for a human except that its sandy hair did not cover the top of its ears, each of which split into two sharp points. The throbbing hum was louder now, emanating from inside the creature. The thing stopped whistling and took a deep breath, smelling the air. A wide smile spread across its face, revealing pointed teeth. Its eyes lit on Alaric, then scanned the rest of the clearing.
“Good morning,” the borrey greeted him.
“Good morning,” Alaric responded, leaning against the Ayda tree. In his pocket, his fingers began tracing protective runes, concentrating on the magic and trying not to be distracted by the borrey.
“Beautiful day.” The creature continued speaking pleasantly even as a small crease of annoyance appeared between its eyebrows. It began walking around the clearing peering into the surrounding trees. “I thought I heard you speaking with a woman as I approached. Have you no companion?”
Alaric looked around the empty clearing. “Just me and the trees.”
The borrey turned toward Alaric, its face hungry. Its eyes fell on the Ayda tree. It looked at the silver trunk with its bright green leaves, and its brow furrowed. The creature walked closer. “Do you often talk to trees?”
“Well, not all trees. Whisperwillows are silly, and oaks think too highly of themselves, but some trees are interesting.”
The borrey moved within inches of the Ayda tree. Alaric continued to lean against the tree, but his fingers quickened their tracing of protective runes. The energy burned his fingertips and flowed across his blisters like scalding water. The borrey breathed in, its nose brushing the bark of the tree. Then its eyes flashed open and it drew back. Alaric pushed away from the tree quickly as the borrey shot him a look of fury from eyes that were now seething red.
“I wonder what happens to the elf if you kill the tree?” The borrey flexed its hands, and sharp claws flashed out. With a snarl, it stabbed toward the base of the trunk.
Alaric made no move, but an inch from the trunk, the claws deflected as though they’d hit an invisible wall.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Alaric said. “I’m fond of this tree.”
The borrey stepped back, eyeing the Keeper. “Not bad,” it said, moving forward again and breathing the scent of the tree. This time, the claws flicked out, not at Ayda but straight at Alaric’s gut. When they reached his shirt, they twisted to the side again.
“You cannot stop me.” The borrey fixed him with a chilling look. “You cannot hurt me. I will wear you down, destroy you, and then deal with the elf.”
The creature closed its eyes and took a deep breath, drawing itself up. Alaric braced himself for an attack, but the creature’s eyes snapped open.
“Ahhhh,” the borrey sighed, relaxing. “You are protecting more than the elf.” It lifted its head and smelled again. “A human woman… young…. close.”
Alaric tensed, and the borrey’s lips curled into a grin.
“How will you protect the human when you are here?” Light glinted off pointed teeth as the borrey flashed a smile. Then it turned, dropping to all fours, and raced off after Milly.
Chapter Eighteen
Alaric sprinted through the woods after the borrey already out of sight ahead of him. The ground kept rising and his lungs burned. He was never going to catch the creature.
Even if the others had managed to find a safe place to put Milly, what were they going to do against the borrey? Its skin looked human, but was tough as boiled leather. Douglon’s axe might hurt it, if he could hit it. But the borrey’s reflexes would outmatch the dwarf.
The other problem was that if they ran the borrey off from Milly, it could still return to Ayda. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out that damaging the tree would damage Ayda.
No, the borrey would have to be chased off for good. When a borrey found itself in life-threatening danger, it transported itself back to the place of its birth, ice caves in the far north.
Unfortunately, there was a good chance that he, Brandson, and Douglon would not be able to produce that level of threat. By the time Alaric reached Bear Stronghold, he was going to be exhaust
ed. Even if he could think of a spell to use, it was going to be hard to find the strength. He couldn’t just trap the creature. They were too close to Kordan’s Blight. The borrey would ultimately get free and just pick a new victim in the village. Somehow, he was going to have to generate a legitimate threat.
Early in Alaric’s years at the Keepers’ Stronghold, they had covered the topic of borreys. Alaric remembered how dissatisfied Keeper Gerone had been.
“Is the transport willful or instinctual?” he had asked. “We do not know. There is too much we do not know! We need to send someone to study them. But borreys never make it high enough on the list of dangers to warrant any attention.
“They are not dangerous to the public at large, but I’m afraid that for the unfortunate woman whom the borrey captures, it is always fatal.
“Borreys are rare and only mate every twelve years, but still… If you find yourself defending such a woman, my only advice for you is fire. Lots of fire.”
First a dragon. Now a borrey. What was it about this group that drew exceptionally dangerous trouble?
If Douglon had managed to get a fire lit and Alaric was close enough, he could make it burn brighter. The flame Ayda had solidified into a necklace hung from his neck and glinted in the sun. This was a bad time for her to be unavailable.
Alaric swore for the hundredth time and pushed farther up the hill. He finally reached the edge of the trees. Above him, stretching out in both directions was a rocky cliff face. Sitting partway up the cliff was a stout wall enclosing two towers. There was a narrow arch cut into the wall, and the borrey crouched in front of it. Douglon stood before the doorway, swinging his axe with Brandson off to the side.
There was no fire anywhere. Alaric ran toward the path that wound up to the Stronghold. He rounded the first turn as an enormous explosion rocked the ground, shaking the Stronghold and knocking him to his knees. Alaric’s palms slammed against the ground, and his blisters burst. He gasped in pain.
An inhuman shriek of rage echoed off the rocks, and Alaric saw the silhouette of the borrey cringing back from an enormous wall of flames. Behind Brandson, a section of the Stronghold wall cracked and crashed down in a cloud of dust and rock. Alaric shoved himself back up and ran closer. The borrey was on a small ledge in front of the entrance. On either side of the ledge, the ground dropped off steeply. Douglon and Brandson had chosen a good place. The borrey howled at the wall of flame in front of him.