Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2)

by Missy Sheldrake

  It’s dark until I become aware of the trees. They stretch up into the black sky all around me, their trunks so close together that I have to squeeze myself between them. I push through and I’m aware that I have no armor. Instead, I’m dressed in a scarlet gown that cinches my waist uncomfortably and swirls around my feet, threatening to trip me. I wander, clinging to the rough tree trunks while my eyes grow accustomed to the dark. I’m not afraid. I know if I can just find my way back to the tavern, I’ll be safe. I find the beginning of a path where the brush is worn away and the trees have parted for me, and I follow it. Something compels me forward. I know this is the way I’m meant to go. All around me, the forest is silent. Watching ominously. I’d feel so much better in my armor, with my sword. I wonder if this place is like Kythshire. I wish for my sword and my armor, but they don’t come to me.

  Ahead, I see a figure on the path. She’s a woman, wearing the same gown as me and running toward me but making little progress. I speed my pace toward her, and as I near I realize that she’s a Mage. Her golden hair is swept up on top of her head, and her high collar frames her face perfectly before it plunges daringly low. Her skin isn’t pale like a Mage’s, but bronzed by the sun. When I try to call to her, I have no voice. She’s still running toward me, though, looking frightened. I skid to a stop right in front of her, and she mirrors the action. Her blue eyes meet mine, and that’s when I realize it isn’t another woman on the path. It’s my reflection.

  I press my hands to the glass and she stares at me. Her lips are painted red, her eyes lined with black. She says something to me. Something desperate and pleading.

  “I can’t hear you,” I try to say, but my own voice is mute. A strange notion comes to me. I realize that somehow I’m the reflection and she’s the real me. The true Azaeli. The thought makes me dizzy. She raises a hand and presses it against the glass on her side, against mine. Her lips move again. I pick out certain words, Mage’s words. She’s casting a spell. Between our hands, the mirror cracks. Her eyes flick to the space behind me, and in the mirror’s reflection I see it, a moving shadow. Its shape changes. First it’s the shadow of a man, then a fox-impostor. My reflection pushes against the glass and I pull my hand away just in time to avoid the shards as they shatter and fall to the ground.

  Her hand closes around my wrist and she pulls me through to her side.

  “Run,” she says, “Go!”

  Hearing my own voice this way is very disorienting. I can’t seem to make my feet obey her command until she shoves me and tells me again. I run away from her and risk a glance over my shoulder to see her raise her hands and shout a spell. Lightning shoots from her fingertips toward the shadow. The lightning crashes again and I run faster, away from myself and the shadow, deep into the forest.

  The trees twist and move around me, guiding my way as they had before. I know I shouldn’t trust anything here, but I must. I have no choice. There’s nowhere else to go but down the path that they create for me. Behind me the lightning fades away until all I can see are the black forms of tree trunks and the even blacker sky.

  I run for what feels like hours down the never-changing, narrow path. Countless times I wish for my armor and my sword. The soft fabric of my gown feels foreign to me as it swirls around my legs; foolish and unprotected. I run as though I’m trying to get someplace. After a while I forget where I’m running to, or what I’m running from. The harder I try to remember, the more my memories elude me.

  I slow my pace as dawn breaks in the distance, washing the distant trees in dull lavender. With the light comes clarity. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going, but I know I don’t belong here. I have to find a way out.

  The path branches off and I pause at the fork. To my left it’s just trees forever, as it has been. To my right I see my reflection again in the distance through the mist of morning. I start toward it and pause again. It’s an obvious choice. If someone was trying to lure me, to trick me, that’s the choice they’d expect me to make. But if they knew I was clever, they’d anticipate that choice and expect me to go down the other path. I shake my head. Logic was never my strength. I always leave the puzzles to him. His name has slipped my mind for now. I’ll remember it later.

  Besides, why do I assume someone is trying to trick me? There’s a reason. A good one. I can’t remember that either, though. Still, deep down I’m cautious and I trust my instincts. I take the left path, away from my reflection. An eerie quiet settles over me as I walk. There are no birds in this forest, no small creatures rustling in the underbrush.

  The dim light of dawn lingers. With it comes a thick mist that settles over me. Droplets soak my hair and my gown and weigh me down. I walk endlessly until the woods begin to have a familiar feel to them. I’ve seen this tree with two low branches before, and I’ve passed this one with a knot that looks like a face. That’s when I realize I’ve been going in circles, but for how long?

  Exhausted and hopeless, I sink to the ground and hug my knees. I could go back. Back to the other path, to the mirror. Perhaps it wasn’t a trick. Perhaps my reflection could help me again and I could escape this never ending path. But I’ve convinced myself that that way is a trap, and so I sit and think instead. In the quiet, I start to remember things beyond this nightmare.

  “Rian!” I whisper. That’s his name. And Flitt. Their faces swirl into my memory and I cling to them. I remember the tavern and the cider, and then some movement in the forest nearby steals away my attention. I turn and squint and see through the mist a flash of red fur and the swish of a white-tipped tail. A fox. He looks at me. His eyes are familiar and bright, not milky like the impostor.

  “Elliot!” I jump up and squeeze between the tree trunks. The fox ambles toward me playfully and then bounds away again through gaps between trees so narrow that I have to shimmy between them.

  “Wait!” I cry as my gown snags and tears against the rough bark. “I’m coming! Wait!” I yank at the caught fabric and curse. “Let go,” I whisper. “Please!” I stumble forward as the fabric is freed and glance back at the tree in disbelief. I could swear that it leans toward me just slightly, as though bowing. I shake my head and spin, searching for the fox, and see it up ahead through another gap too narrow for me to squeeze through.

  “Move, please?” I put a hand on each trunk and the trees bend apart. A rush of power surges through me at the discovery that I can manipulate the forest this way. “Thank you,” I whisper as I pass through the gap.

  Elliot is not as accommodating. I call for him to slow down, to wait for me, but he’s in too much of a hurry. As I chase after him, I wish aloud again for my armor and my sword. My gown is cold and wet and too revealing. I feel foreign in it, and I long for the protection and comfort of my own things.

  “You don’t need them,” the forest whispers around me.

  “Don’t need them.”

  “Don’t need them.”

  “Not here.”

  I spin around to find the source of them, but there are only trees. Even the fox is gone, and everything is still again.

  “Please,” I whisper. “Who’s there?”

  “We all are. We’re here.” I can pick out the voices. Dozens of tiny whispers that echo in the forest around me and also in my mind.

  “Who?” I cry, and my voice is snuffed out by their hisses.

  “Shh! He’ll hear! Hurry!” they cry.

  “Hurry!”

  “Hurry!”

  Red fur streaks along the edge of my vision and I spin and chase after it. A touch from my fingers and a whisper bends the tree trunks to my will. Knowing this secret makes the chase much easier. This new power surges through me with such a rush that I can’t help but laugh as I amble through the forest. I can see where the fox is leading me now. All around me the forest is bare and gray except for a curtain of willow fronds that shimmer gold and green ahead. Elliot disappears through them and I crash in behind him.

  Everything goes dark again, heavy and desolate. At firs
t I think I’ve made a grave mistake. I turn to leave, but there are no willow fronds. Something grabs at my skirts and chaos erupts.

  “Help us,” a hundred voices assault my mind, and then I see them. One by one, tiny faces appear in the darkness. They might be fairies if they weren’t so horrid looking. I can see only glimpses. Their eyes are dark and wide, pleading and desperate. Their skin hangs off of their emaciated little bodies. Their wings are stubs at their backs. Still, they hold hope when they look at me, and I understand that I’m all that they have. I’m their only way.

  “Please,” they whisper, and my heart bends to them like the tree trunks that parted beneath my fingertips. “Please, help us.”

  “She was right behind me. I had her,” a familiar voice echoes through the darkness. “Azi?” it calls. The fox. Elliot.

  Cold little hands grip my fingertips, my arms, and my hair.

  “Please don’t go. Please help us. Please.”

  I don’t belong here. I belong there, out there with the fox. But these creatures need me. They’re desperate. I have to do something.

  “How?” I ask them. “How can I help you?” The fox calls me again, but it’s slipping farther away. I can barely hear it anymore. “Who are you?”

  “We are the fallen.”

  “The fallen.”

  “Forgotten.”

  “The last.”

  “Homeless.”

  “Helpless.”

  “Nowhere to go.”

  “Help us.”

  “Help us.”

  “How?” I ask as Elliot’s voice fades away, and somehow I know I’ve made my choice. For now, I’m staying here. The fallen creatures cling to me desperately, stroking my hair, whispering their thanks. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I can see them more clearly and I realize that I’ve seen them before. If not these, then similar fae, dancing among the roots of trees, crouched over a red tablet, taking orders from Sorcerers.

  I watched them from Elliot’s back as he brought me on a tour of Sunteri to show me the desolation there, just before our battle at the Keep. I remember the Wellspring, nearly drained of its magic.

  “Yes. You see,” they whisper all around me.

  “Our home.”

  “Our life.”

  “Drained.”

  “Stolen.”

  “Destroyed.”

  “Desolated.”

  “Dying.”

  “Help us.”

  “Help us.”

  “Help us.”

  “I will,” I say. “I am. I’ll help. Tell me how.”

  More of them flock to me, surrounding me. They’re timid and shaken at first, but I stay still and they come and cling to me. I have such pity for them that my heart feels like it might shatter into a thousand pieces. I can feel their fear like a wound in my soul. They remind me so much of Flitt that my eyes sting with tears. I can’t imagine her this way, so broken and drained.

  “Who did this to you?” I whisper.

  “Not one. Many,” comes the answer. “Many and slow.”

  “Dark ones.”

  “Sorcerers.”

  “Not to be trusted.”

  “What can I do?” I ask. One of them nuzzles my neck and I pat it gently. Again I’m reminded of Flit.

  “Speak for us.”

  “Speak for us.”

  “In Kythshire. Speak for us.”

  “In Kythshire.”

  “Help us.”

  “Help us restore it.”

  “Help us go home.”

  “I will,” I whisper. “I’m going there soon. I’ll ask them if they can help. I promise.”

  “She promises. She said it.”

  “Go now, quickly.”

  “Back to the fox.”

  “Away, he comes.”

  “Dreamwalker.”

  They pull me to my feet in the direction Elliot disappeared, and I let them guide me. The darkness grows impossibly darker as I move through it, and I feel something bearing down on us, closer and closer. One by one the drained creatures fade away. I can’t see or feel anything. Just when I fear I’ll be swallowed up by the darkness and suffocated, something shifts. The light blinds me and I gasp for air.

  Chapter Seventeen: Here and There

  Azi

  I come to on the floor of the inn with the faces of half of my guild swimming over me, almost as though I’m seeing them from beneath some glassy surface. I feel the pressure of it on my chest and try again to breathe. My lungs burn painfully and my head is pounding.

  “Give her space,” Brother Donal says, and everyone except for Mum and Da backs away. They’re holding my hands but I can still feel the tiny, cool fingers around my fingertips even though I know they aren’t here. I left them behind, trapped someplace awful, threatened by some nightmarish shadow. I made a promise. I’ll save them. I’ll help them. I meet Mum’s eyes.

  “We have to go. Me and Rian. Now. It can’t wait. They need help.” I try to sit up but Brother Donal pushes me down again gently. My chest aches and I fall into a fit of coughing that makes my head throb with pain as I fight for breath.

  “Slow down, Azaeli,” Donal says. “Slow down and breathe. Water, Dacva.” His tone is so peaceful and quiet it’s almost disinterested. It infuriates me. I try to get up again and he presses his hands to my shoulders and looks at Mum and Da. “She needs to lie still.”

  I close my eyes until Dacva comes back with a pitcher. Rian is right behind him asking questions. At the sound of his voice, I fight to sit up again.

  “Rian,” I try to reach for him but they’re still holding my hands, keeping me down. He takes the cup from Dacva and helps me drink it, and it cools the burn in my throat. His eyes linger for a moment on my neck and then he and Mum exchange a worried glance.

  “What did you find?” Brother Donal asks Rian as he helps me sip.

  “Nothing,” Rian scowls. “Nothing unusual at all.”

  “Curious,” Donal sighs. “Well, at least she’s coming to, now.” He brushes a hand over my head and whispers, and the tingling sensation of healing washes my headache away.

  “I told you,” Rian murmurs, “you should’ve just let me sip it. I could have had her back with us much sooner.”

  As the two argue, I become aware of other voices farther away. Mya speaking with the barkeep. Bryse and Da shouting at someone outside. Cort trying to quiet them. Others whispering.

  “Look, she thinks she’s back.”

  “Back with her friends.”

  “Back in the smoky place.”

  “She isn’t?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “No, she isn’t. Not all the way.”

  “She can’t be.”

  “She promised.”

  “But she left.”

  “Not really.”

  “She’s in both places.”

  “Yes, clever girl.”

  The whispers come from far away, from that place beyond the darkness, a vast distance from the tavern. The forest with the fallen fairies. The Dreaming. My eyes drift closed as it pulls at me.

  “Oh, no, Azi! She’s fading again,” Mum says from what sounds like the far end of a long tunnel. Her hand is heavy on mine, more solid.

  “Azi, look at me. Open your eyes,” Rian says. I try to, but my eyelids don’t seem to want to do as I bid them. When I force them, I feel a lurch forward. I’m the rope in a game of tug of war. One side is reality, where my parents grip me tightly and Rian calls my name, and the other side is the Dreaming, where the whispering of fallen fairies lures me back.

  “Promised, she did.”

  “Do you remember it, girl? The promise?”

  “Speak for us!”

  “Speak for us.”

  “Yes, in Kythshire,” I whisper aloud.

  Rian calls my name and holds me, but I don’t feel him. Just like they said, I’m not there. Not really. I’m looking at all of them now, kneeling on the wood floor, holding me. Mum, Da, Rian, Donal. I see them from another perspe
ctive, as though I’m watching through the glass again at myself and the scene playing out around me. My body there fades away until Rian’s hands are pressed to the wood floor and Mum and Da kneel staring at their empty palms.

  “I understand,” Rian pushes to me, and then it all goes black again.

  “What just happened?” I whisper into the darkness.

  “You sent your message, and now we must go, quickly!” the voices answer.

  “No.” I blink into the darkness. My heart is racing with anger and confusion. “Not until you tell me exactly what’s happening. Am I really here, or am I there? Is this a dream, or isn’t it? If it’s not, then why am I dressed like this? I’ll help you, but I need to have my things. My armor, my sword.” My hand flies to my neck to feel for the cord that holds the pouch with Flitt’s diamond. It’s gone. I sink to my knees onto the soft, mossy ground. I wish I could see. “Why is it so dark?” I whisper mostly to myself, since the voices have gone silent.

  “He’s coming. You must go. Quickly,” one brave whisper warns me.

  I’m aware of someone running toward me with quick, light footsteps. At first I imagine the fox, but whatever it is sounds bigger. As it nears, I push myself to my feet. Aside from the quickened breath of my approacher and its footsteps, everything is silent. As it nears I’m aware of something else. Not something I can see or hear, but I can feel it like a fog creeping toward me. A dark energy, strong and confident. The softer footsteps quicken and I try to duck away from whoever it is, but we collide and she cries out as we tumble to the ground together.

  “Who’s there?” we whisper in unison. The voice is familiar. I try to place it.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s coming. We have to run. Now!” She grabs my arm and pulls me up, and we crash through the dark forest together. My eyes have adjusted now, but it’s still too dark to make out anything but vague forms. I risk a glance at the woman beside me, half expecting to see myself again, but her hair is too dark and her figure too lithe. Her fur cloak spreads out behind her as she runs, and her bow is gripped tightly in her other hand.