by E. L. Todd
“Then what are we going to bring to Mathilda?” Lilac asked. “We don’t have to kill them all—”
“We aren’t killing any of them.” He set the bag sideways close to the edge of the hole. “Come on.” He shook the bag, trying to entice them to hop inside.
“Then what’s the plan?” Bridge asked. “Why are you taking them?”
“Because they can’t stay here.” He waved his hand toward the bag. “Come on, guys. I’m not going to hurt you. Ugh, how the hell am I going to do this?” He shook the bag again and pointed inside the flap. “If they stay here, they’ll get bigger, and when they do, they’ll be killed too.”
“Then…where are they going to go?” Bridge asked. “They’re just as vulnerable anywhere.”
Rush gave an angry sigh as he looked at one of the frogs. “Get in this bag, or I swear—”
Ribbit.
“Get.” He pointed at the bag. “In.”
Ribbit.
“Don’t be a dick—”
The frog hopped inside.
Rush’s eyebrows both shot to the top of his face.
Then the next one joined him.
One by one, they went, hopping into the bag until the hole was empty.
Rush righted the bag and cinched the drawstring before he got to his feet. Never imagined I’d be holding a bag of baby frogs.
That makes two of us.
He put his pack back on his back and held the bag at his side, like it was a bag of flour or something. “Next, we cross the desert.”
“Uh, Rush,” Bridge said. “Those guys won’t survive out there…”
“I’m not an idiot,” Rush said. “I’m taking them to the one place where they’re safe—Eden Star.” He took the lead, heading in the direction of the desert, which would have to be crossed under darkness.
“Rush?” Bridge was close behind. “What are we going to do about Mathilda? We’re supposed to earn the dwarves as allies, not go on a conservation escapade. It would be a lot easier if we just harvested the venom—”
“I can’t do it, alright?” Rush said as he kept walking. “I just can’t…”
Bridge let it go.
They headed west—right for the unbearable sands.
I’m proud of you.
Shut up.
I am.
I’m only doing it for her.
No, you aren’t. You’re doing it because of her.
9
Wor-lei
Mist filled the air around them, fireflies illuminating the area where the sunlight couldn’t reach. Callon locked his eyes on hers with the greatest endurance he’d ever shown, not needing to blink, not even when minutes passed.
Cora’s fingertips touched her face, wiping the last of the tears that had streaked down her cheeks. The blue outline of Weila was still there, holding on to her husband like their separation was as hard for her as it was for him. “I can’t see the details of her face. It’s just an outline, a hazy one…”
His hands tightened on Weila’s—as if he hoped he could feel her.
Cora watched his fingers move through hers without touching. “I know I must sound crazy, but—”
“I believe you.” He turned to his wife, seeing nothing but the ground in front of him. He gave a sigh in disappointment, closed his eyes in pain, as if he’d give anything to see what she could see.
Cora watched Weila bring her head back to look into her husband’s face. “She’s looking at you…”
Callon opened his eyes and met the look he couldn’t see.
“Wor-lei…”
Cora sucked in a deep breath when she heard it, the quiet voice of the woman on her knees. “I can hear her too.”
Callon turned back to her, his breaths now labored.
“She said…Wor-lei.”
He sucked a deep breath instantly. He closed his eyes briefly, and once they reopened, they began to water.
“What…what does that mean?”
He looked at Cora again, squeezing the hands he couldn’t feel. “Husband.”
Weila turned her head in Cora’s direction.
“I think…she can hear me too.”
“Then speak to her.” Callon’s voice gripped her body the way he tried to grip the hands of his wife. “Tell her…tell her that my love has not abated in the years we’ve been apart. Tell her…I’m lost without her.”
Her eyes watered again, her heart wrenching at the pain her uncle shared so vividly. His words matched the sorrow in his eyes, the sorrow she saw on a daily basis. “Weila, Callon wants you to know that his love for you still lives on…and he misses you so much.”
Callon stared at her invisible face, eyes wet, his grief taking over. “What did she say?”
“Nothing yet.”
A full minute of silence passed. Weila looked at her husband once more. “Wor-lei…” Her voice came from every direction, not from the invisible mouth that Cora couldn’t perceive. The sadness was heavy. The sorrow worse than her husband’s. “Grief is the perseverance of love. An unbearable burden, but one that keeps us together, across the veil, forever.”
Cora repeated it word for word.
Callon closed his eyes to restrain the tears.
“Our spirits will touch once more, not as they did in life, but in death. Reunited once more, we will float on the wind, between the leaves, through the trees. We will be the flowers we once admired. The birds that sang to us in the morning. The river that brought our forest life. We will wait until your time has come—and go together.”
Callon sucked in a breath, the tears escaping his eyes.
Too difficult for her to watch, Cora looked away. She became the vessel of communication between them, but nothing more.
He spoke through his tears. “I wish to join you now…”
“Now is not your time, Wor-lei.”
He shook his head, his eyes closed.
“We will wait,” she said. “We will wait until that time has come.”
“I…I can’t wait…”
“I am here for you—always. We both are. But I must go now…”
“No.” His eyes opened, his fingers tightening into fists. “Please…don’t go…”
“Wor-lei, Hei Nu Sen.”
He sucked in a breath, his eyes closed. “Hei Nu Sen, Sun-lei…”
The blue outline disappeared.
Callon’s hands suddenly dropped.
Cora looked away, to cover her own tears as well as avoid his.
He leaned forward with his head in his hands, breathing through the pain, like Cora wasn’t even there.
Her hand reached out until her fingertips felt his shoulder. Gently, she slid it across his back, resting her palm against him, the only comfort she could provide…and she wasn’t even sure if he wanted it.
There was no reaction to her touch. His breaths still came and went, a quiet breakdown that he couldn’t control.
“I’m sorry, Tor-lei…” She spoke through her tears, broken apart by the raw grief he carried every single day.
He pulled her arm from his back.
She immediately withdrew, remorseful for invading his space. Her eyes went down to her hands in her lap, wishing she could disappear entirely.
His arm circled her shoulders, and he drew her close, resting his head on hers.
She closed her eyes, enveloped by the kind of affection she’d never felt in her life.
“Thank you, Sor-lei.”
Callon kept to himself for a few days.
Her daily training had ceased, so she spent her time in the tree house, meditating in the fields, going to the market despite being ignored by everyone there.
I feel your sadness.
She looked out the window with the cup of tea between her fingertips. Steam rose to the ceiling, the rosebuds floating on the surface of the hot liquid. She looked down into the dark tea and gave it a couple stirs with her spoon. Not sadness…more like heartbreak.
For your uncle?
Yes.
Yeah…
But he still has you.
I’m not enough to replace what he lost.
It still gives him reason to go on.
She stirred her tea, her eyes down.
Is there more?
After a deep breath, she gave her answer. No.
A knock sounded on the open doorway.
She flinched because she hadn’t heard him approach. His elven footsteps were impossible to detect. Unless she happened to stare straight at the door at his arrival, she’d never know he was there. “Hey…how are you?”
He crossed the room with his silent authority, his powerful arms still by his sides, the muscles and tendons visible because he wore a short-sleeved shirt that day. His large frame sank into the chair across from her.
They stared, back and forth.
She held her breath, waiting to hear what he had to say.
But he never answered her question.
“Want some tea?”
He gave a slight nod.
She poured him a cup before she returned to her seat.
He stared at the rising steam for a moment before he regarded her once more. “Needed some time.”
“I completely understand…”
His elbows rested on the table, one hand cupping his chin, a heavy shadow there because he’d skipped the shave for several days. His fingers rubbed the coarse hair, his eyes down. “I was too overcome with the moment to think about its implications. But I’ve thought about them now.”
“So, you know why I can see her?”
He shook his head.
“Do you know why I can talk to her?”
“I don’t know that either.”
Is it because I’m fused with you?
No. Dragons don’t possess those kinds of powers. We also have no concept of the afterlife.
You don’t?
Why would we when we’re immortal? We lived in peace. There’s been no reason to question our mortality and speculate on the afterlife when we’ve never needed one. That all changed when King Lux arrived…
“Has there ever been another elf who can—”
“No.” He dropped his hand to the table. “You can push your mind in a way I’ve never seen before. Maybe there’s an elf in our history that could, but I’m not aware of it. Perhaps that is the reason.”
No.
No, what?
That’s not the reason.
Okay…then what do you think is the reason?
Death Magic. Ask him.
I know it’s not Death Magic because I didn’t do anything. Didn’t perform a spell. It just…happened.
You can perform the Skull Crusher without a spell. Death Magic is not what you can do—but what you are. Now ask.
“Uh…what about Death Magic?”
That’s not how you ask such a question.
Hey, you gave me zero advice.
Callon stiffened at the question. His eyebrows drew close together an instant later.
“What about Death Magic?”
“Is that…what I’m doing?”
“Are you dead?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“Wait…so you have to be dead to use Death Magic?”
He must have assumed it was rhetorical because he stared.
“Because I can do the Skull Crusher, and now I can talk to dead people.”
“Not dead people,” he said quickly. “Spirits of the living.”
Careful. Do not offend him.
“I just…don’t understand. How can I do these things?”
His eyes dropped in quiet contemplation.
“So, is there a difference between dead people and spirits of the living?”
“Night and day difference.”
“How are they different?”
“Shamans are dead. My family has passed on and become spirits.”
She’d been close to a Shaman but had never seen inside that hood. Her knife sank into something soft, like a pillow, like they were physical, but barely. “That’s why they can’t be killed…because they’re already dead.”
“Yes.”
“But, like, what the hell are they?”
He lifted his chin, his eyebrows high.
“Where do they come from? Where do they live? How can something be dead but go around and kill people? Have powers like that?”
He’s hiding something.
No, he’s thinking.
Callon looked out the window for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together. “It’s forbidden.”
“What’s forbidden?”
“To speak of such things.”
Told you.
“To talk about the Shamans?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“It’s…” He pressed his lips tightly together again. “It’s a part of our history that we want to erase. It’s been removed from our textbooks in the library. It doesn’t exist in our conversations in the market. It just doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
He kept his eyes out the window, his chest rising with every breath he took. “Because we’re ashamed.”
Ashe’s voice deepened, turning hostile the way it did on Mist Isle every time he interacted with Rush. Make. Him. Answer.
“Callon…you need to tell me.”
“It’s not lore that should be passed down—”
“You watched me get rid of those Shamans on the way to Rock Island. Now you’ve seen me speak with the dead. I need to know this information.”
His eyes shifted back to hers. “You aren’t a Shaman, Cora—”
“How do we know for sure?”
“Because I’m looking at you right now. Your eyes illuminate like the fireflies in the forest, and your heart beats with the soul of the trees. I feel your presence, and it’s vibrant, honest, and beautiful.”
She released a slow sigh. “Please tell me.”
“You have a powerful mind. That’s all.”
“Why do I have a powerful mind, Callon?”
“Because you’re the daughter of the greatest king who ever lived.”
“Are you seriously not going to tell me?”
He looked away again, his features tightening into a grimace. “You have your secrets, Cora. I’ve respected your privacy, have betrayed my own queen to protect your interests. It’s your turn to give me the same kindness.”
No.
She closed her eyes in defeat. Ashe, he’s right—
We need this information.
There’s nothing I can do.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I’ll try again later, but I have to let this go for now.
A louder growl, like the stove trying to light the gas. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
She did her best to ignore the growl in her head. “Okay, I understand.”
Callon instantly grabbed the cup of tea and brought it to his lips for a drink. “The last thing I’ll say about this topic… You are not a Shaman. Yes, your powers are similar, but there’s another explanation for it. Now we’re finished.”
If that were the truth, he would have no problem giving you this information.
Not necessarily. He can prove that I’m not what I fear, but in doing so, he’ll reveal something he doesn’t want me to know.
Now I don’t like him.
Ashe, I’ve brought a dragon into their borders without their knowledge or permission. I have access to a private passage that takes me in and out of their lands undetected. He saved Flare from the empire. He’s earned your respect a million times over.
Ashe turned quiet, simmering in silence.
Callon drank his tea, his eyes on the window most of the time, the sounds of the birds all around the tree house.
Rejection stabbed her deep, and the disappointment was difficult to overcome. It drew her out of the conversation.
“I’ve wanted to return to Sun-lei ever sinc
e we left. I can’t see her. I can’t touch her. But I can feel her, so it’s like she’s there. You speak her words, but I hear them in her voice. The details of her face have never left my mind, so I see them when you speak. We’re together again. It brings me joy…albeit short-lived.”
“We can see her whenever you want, Callon. I’m happy to do that for you.”
“I know, Sor-lei.” His eyes glazed over as he looked out the window, filling with the pain she’d witnessed countless times since they’d met. “But I wonder…if she’s the only one? Can you see others?” His eyes shifted back to hers.
I have the same wonder.
“I…I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone else while I was there.”
Perhaps you can see more than your father’s grave.
She instantly sucked in a breath. I…I didn’t even think of that.
Nor did I.
“My Vin-lei doesn’t come to me as often as my Sun-lei. I don’t know why—and I wish I did.”
The potential meeting with her father had taken her focus, but the sorrow in Callon’s voice pulled her out of it again. “Let’s ask him.”
Callon inhaled a slow breath, the surface of his eyes forming a nearly invisible film. “I’m afraid.” He’d stormed the castle and had taken out the guards as his elvish blade reflected the torches mounted on the wall. With dark and focused eyes, he’d slain men and left their bodies in his wake. He moved with a swiftness that defied his size, a calmness that rivaled a stream. General. Soldier. Hero. But this was a different version of him entirely. Grieving father. Broken widower.
“Afraid of what?”
“What his answer will be.”
10
Death Will Have to Do
On the same bench as before, they sat together.
Whether it was morning or evening, the graveyard looked the same, the mist heavy in the trees, the coolness sticking to their clothes. Both times she’d visited the Cemetery of Spirits, no other elves were present.
Maybe because there were far more living elves than dead ones.
With his hands together on his lap and a straight back, he sat there, watching a firefly float past his face then leave his vision. Sometimes, his head would bow and he would close his eyes. He seemed to have forgotten her presence because there was no conversation or eye contact.