Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More

by Robin D. Owens

  “He’s my only family.”

  “I’ll bring his food after the healers inform me of what his diet should be.” The browniefem walked through the rock wall.

  Jenni stared at Rothly’s filthy clothes, frowning. The interdimension wasn’t dirty…though you could certainly sweat in it, of course, if you were working hard. She picked up his hand and turned it over, examining it. You could bleed in it, too.

  The shadleeches had feasted well on Rothly’s blood and magic. She glanced at his other hand, the crippled hand and arm. His fingers weren’t the red and shiny skin with dark patches that she remembered. The bone didn’t look warped by Darkfolk magic.

  She stared and her heart started thumping hard in her throat. He didn’t look crippled. She leaned across him, picked up his arm, ran her hand up and down the ulna and radius. They felt straight.

  Rothly snorted, woke, looked up at her. “Enjoying the view of what you did to me, sis,” he taunted.

  Jenni flinched. His acidic words seared and burned all the way to the bone. She dropped his arm, forced herself to meet his eyes. Hot, angry blue eyes that matched his words.

  He looked ugly, his warped emotions twisting his face. Yet a trace of the haunting of his eyes, the bitterness, Jenni had seen in her own. Was she that ugly, too?

  She tried to speak, couldn’t until she’d cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m looking at what I did to you.” She grabbed his arm again, ran her fingers up and down his lower bones. “They’re straight.”

  Shock came to his eyes, he struggled up, stared at his arm, ripped vainly at his filth-encrusted sleeve. Jenni pulled the cuff open, popping the button.

  “Your arm is healed,” she repeated.

  Rothly shook his head as if disbelieving, then she saw memories filter into his head, his eyes. His nostrils flared, he tilted his head arrogantly, enough to look down his nose at her. “You didn’t do this. I did it myself. I asked for help and it was granted to me. I mended my life that you wrecked.”

  Jenni stood. Hearing guilt thrown at her like mud and vitriol, sticking and boring into her, guilt she’d used as her own whip, sickened her. These came from outside her own mind and they were as ugly as Rothly. Did she still deserve so much hatred? From him as well as her own self? She didn’t know. She did know that she didn’t need to sit here and take it.

  Standing, she said, “You’re welcome for the save, bro.” Staring at the pitiful man, she wondered if his magic had healed, too. She curled her tongue to taste his magic.

  “Don’t you do that to me! I threw silver and salt at you and you are dead to me. You are nothing to me, and I don’t want you here, anywhere near me. I don’t permit you to test my magic.”

  Permit or not, she’d done it. She trembled, but answered him. “I don’t know what kind of gift you have now, but it isn’t elemental balancing.” She curled her lip. “Your magic seems strong enough, not crippled—except by your own attitude. I wonder how much more that will taint it. Goodbye, Rothly.”

  Her whole body ached from holding it so stiffly.

  The door whooshed open as the browniefem entered, followed by six other brownies carrying a huge wooden tub and a naiader—a minor Waterfolk man—who sauntered after them. He’d be providing the water to fill the basin.

  The browniefem stared at Jenni. “I told you he is such a one that no brownie wishes to live with.” She waved to the center of the room, the carpet rolled up and settled itself against the wall under a lush tapestry and the browniemen put the tub down.

  As Jenni left she caught a glance at Rothly, who’d flushed an unbecoming red, making him even uglier.

  She walked unsteadily down the corridor, her legs weak with reaction, but her mind busy with fleeting thoughts of how negative emotions—guilt and grief—could work on the attractiveness of a being. Guilt and grief were useful now and then, but even with her long life, fifteen years was probably too long to spend flagellating herself. Time to let them go. If she could. But she knew all too well that deciding to do something with her mind didn’t always mean it was easy for the heart to follow through.

  Jenni stopped at a cross-corridor, blankly staring at the rock walls. She was lost, wasn’t sure where the dormitory was.

  Once again the dwarfem with the keys whisked up, frowning, as usual. Her breath snorted from her nose in a huff of dust. “Come with me to your new quarters.”

  Unwilling to argue, Jenni accompanied the woman in silence. She was led to a small, windowless room. Her bag and backpack huddled in a corner. Jenni didn’t know whether her poor accommodations were because she had encouraged the dorm women to leave the Earth Palace and strike out on their own, or because the Eight were angry about missing the second bubble event.

  Sure didn’t look like a princess’s room to her. She sat on the lumpy mattress atop a cot and stared at a drip running down the opposite wall. Suddenly everything was Too Much. “Why should I stay?” she asked the air, pretty sure that her words would be heard. “I’ve rescued my brother. He’s not likely to change his feelings about me. I’ve accomplished what I wanted. No one has bothered to tell me any more about the mission and the third bubble event, so I am thinking my help isn’t needed. Especially since the Eight didn’t appreciate what I did with the second bubble. They probably want to handle the third bubble completely by themselves.”

  She stood. “This room sure isn’t any indication that my input is valued. Obviously, I am still the dissed halfling. Seems like others’ promises aren’t being kept, either. No reason to follow up on my statement to see this through—a statement that was made when I was desperate.” She shrugged elaborately into her backpack, fastened it around her waist, thought about how she could leave. One last irritated murmur. “May as well take off. Not needed here. The Eight have enough power to handle that last bubble.”

  The Earth Palace must have a sacred space. If she went there and concentrated hard, she could probably draw enough fire through her to be able to lightning away. If she had the energy, but she’d have to leave her belongings. They should be safe in a sacred space.

  Aric…well, she thought he’d help her get home, or bring her stuff to her.

  She did need rest first, and sure wasn’t going to get it here, but figured she could crash in the dorm.

  When she opened the door, it was to see the Fire Queen. The royal lady looked into the miserable room. “There has-s been a mis-stake.” She hissed it with such power that three small fire sprites popped into existence to circle her head. A brownie in the hallway disappeared into a rock wall, and a round dwarfem with five keys strode into view, her black hair in meticulous sausage rolls down her skull.

  The Fire Queen turned to the housekeeper. “What is the meaning of this lodging for my kinswoman?”

  Curtsying, the dwarfem didn’t glance at the room or Jenni. “I will investigate the slight.”

  From her peeved tones, Jenni understood that the chatelaine really would.

  “We need a suite.” The Fire Queen gestured with a graceful hand.

  “A suite!”

  “A suite with a sitting room, so that I might sit and speak with my kinswoman, Princess Mistweaver Emberdrake.”

  “Of course.” The dwarfem held out her hands to each of them, seemed to brace herself. “With your permission I will transport you there.”

  Through rock. Making a moue, the royal put her hand in the dwarfem’s. Jenni did the same. The next moment they were in a magnificently appointed living room done in light blue and silver. A fire roared in a lapis lazuli fireplace. The opposite wall had a huge window that appeared to be very fine rock crystal instead of glass. Jenni caught her breath at the frozen waves of white mountain peaks tinted gold and pink by the sunset. She yearned to study the view. There was a door to a rocky outcropping that might be a disguised balcony.

  “Please sit, Jenni. May I call you Jenni?”

  Jenni turned and curtsied, but didn’t meet the queen’s gaze. The dwarfem had already gone. “Yes.”

&
nbsp; Queen Emberdrake sank into a wing-backed chair with wooden arms, crossed her legs gracefully. Jenni sat, too, sinking into a feather cushion on a love seat with the thought that she’d have to thrash around to get out.

  “The years since the ambush at the dimensional portal have been hard on you,” the Fire Queen said sympathetically. “You lost your family. Your brother…was not wise enough to share his and your grief, support and succor each other.”

  “No,” Jenni whispered. She risked meeting the melty chocolate-colored eyes of the queen. No glamour snagged her. It seemed at least one of the Eight would be straight with her…or at least not bespell her.

  Raising her hands palm out, the queen said, “I do not manipulate my kin.”

  Jenni didn’t believe that for a second.

  After a small hiss, the queen smiled in a way that made Jenni miss her mother. “Very well, not quite the truth, but I do not entrance and bespell my kin. You should never fear that.” Her voice rang with promise.

  There was a little silence as they measured each other. The queen spoke first. “We all—the Eight—heard what you said. I understand your discouragement. I have heard Rothly is not behaving well.” Another few heartbeats of quiet. “Indeed, Rothly has been difficult since we contacted him.”

  Jenni felt a smidgen of pride in her brother, yet wanted to defend him at the same time, then the implication of the queen’s words actually sank in. Blood drained from Jenni’s head. “You were part of the plot to send him, crippled, to deal with the bubble event.”

  “But, no! That is not what I was speaking of. I meant when we first rewarded him with all we could after the battle. He was very much less than gracious.”

  Jenni could understand that and words began welling into her mind and left her mouth low and rusty. “You moved up the dimensional opening.” She hadn’t been there, and that had been the basis of her guilt, why she couldn’t forgive herself.

  The queen’s fingers clenched into the grooves in the ends of the chair’s arms. Jenni thought she saw steam rising from the djinnfem’s fingertips. Her voice, too, held more fire and the emotional hissing. “You understand that neither I nor my mate were party to that decision. We were not of the Eight. We were only the prospective Fire King and Queen, nor was the present Queen of Air, the elffem, consulted.”

  Keeping her eyes on the queen’s face, seeing blue flame dance in the woman’s pupils, Jenni nodded.

  “But had I been asked I would have agreed with the decision.” She inhaled and her expression smoothed as she controlled any emotion. Jenni fought memories and hung on to her temper by a fingernail.

  “We’d just heard the Darkfolk were preparing an ambush. All of the Eight had arrived, the Four who were leaving were anxious to be gone. I must admit that I was impatient to become the next Fire Queen. We were worried about the stability of the portal, how much power it would take to open it, how long we could keep it open to ensure the safe passage of the Four to a new dimension.” The queen’s wide mouth twitched up. “Cloudsylph, the current King of Air, who was then the head of the warriors, wanted all done as quickly as possible. He cut the ritual—the pomp—to skeletal necessity. Your family assured us that they could gather such magic as to accommodate us, provide us with rich elemental energies to carry us through the situation. Not all of our retinues—those strong in magic who would support us—had arrived, including you.”

  Jenni shuddered, bit her lower lip to keep her mouth clamped shut as she recalled running flat out toward the portal and her dying family after she’d heard her mother’s scream. The day in France had been lovely, the sun had shone from a soft blue sky, wind had ruffled the vibrant green grass setting the colorful wildflowers nodding.

  Then there’d been the stench of Darkfolk and blood and death. Sweat beaded at the back of her neck under her hair just thinking about it.

  “We had no sooner gotten the portal up than the Darkfolk attacked. They broke our dancing circle! Blurred the lines of the wheel. We fought. My mate, I, the warriors who were there.” A wintry smile. “Not all the warriors were there, either. There had just been a shift change, and some lingered. Lucky. Especially since some showed up early, an hour before the ceremony.” Her blue-white gaze shifted to Jenni. “Like your family.”

  Jenni flinched.

  “What saved us all was that the Darkfolk were not organized, as usual. Some of the minor fiends attacked before the five remaining great Dark ones ordered the charge. Cloudsylph had a few minutes to form our strategy and defense. The portal held as the Four leaving rushed through, draining much of our energy and power. I, my mate and the elves claimed our magic, but it was not as much as it should have been. We were distracted, fighting, focused on surviving, not becoming royal.” The queen’s voice had become an edgy drone. Neither did she have good memories of her ascension to the throne of fire. “Then the portal began to waver….” Another slide of the queen’s flame-blue stare to Jenni. “Your family was in trouble.”

  An understatement, they’d been dying. A wave the color and scent of blood rolled through Jenni, tinting her vision from the inside. All she saw was red liquid dripping.

  The sound of the door opening had her blinking and blinking again. Aric walked in, aimed a short bow toward the queen and came to sit beside Jenni. She wanted to lean into him. She didn’t.

  The queen watched her with eyes cooled to her regular brown. “The portal was wavering, then it vanished. The earth bucked under our feet. Fighting became vicious as the Darkfolk poured onto the field. Magics were flung. More warriors, guests, Lightfolk joined the battle.”

  “Then…?” The queen lapsed into a silence that stretched and stretched and Jenni surreptitiously moved her fingers in a spell to stop memories from coming.

  “Then?” Aric prompted.

  CHAPTER 14

  A TREMOR WENT THROUGH THE QUEEN. “Then there was more elemental energy, magical power around me than I’d ever felt. I had a surfeit of fire energy to work with, funneled some of the magic that could overcome me to other djinn on the field.” The queen looked down at her hands, flexed them, and her smile grew wide and sharp. “I had the pleas-sure of des-stroy-ing one of the remaining five Dark ones-ss mys-self. I soaked up all the magic I could, everyone did, especially the new Four, but I feared for my life. There was too much energy.” She inclined her head to Jenni. “You know.”

  “Yes,” Jenni whispered from a throat that felt seared.

  “You came, ran into the mist.”

  I will not remember, Jenni chanted mentally.

  The queen continued, “We fought with wild magic all around us, both Darkfolk and Lightfolk, spells and weapons conjured that I’d never seen before, never imagined. Even the slightest finger-flick reaped death.” The djinnfem leaned against a wing of the chair, her voice lowered to a bare whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Those of us who survived did so because of luck, of fate…except we Eight. We survived because we were the best.”

  “And the elf and dwarf guardians helped,” Aric said. “As did I and others, putting our bodies and magics and lives between you and the Darkfolk.”

  The queen sat straight again, frowned at Aric, let out a hissing sigh. “That is true.” She turned to Jenni, dismissing Aric. “Now you know how it was, from my point of view. Do you wish to interview the other kings and queens? I can arrange it.” An undertone in her voice screamed warning to Jenni and she wanted and feared to say yes. “No,” she forced from her dry and hurting throat.

  Aric relaxed next to her.

  “Everyone at the portal opening, the ambush and battle dictated or wrote our accounts…except you.”

  Heat of humiliation rushed to Jenni’s face, but she kept her gaze level with the queen’s. A dwarf scholar had come to Jenni soon after the event and she’d sent him away. “I lost my whole family. My sole remaining brother disowned me.” And none of the kings and queens had offered support.

  The queen tapped a finger on the arm of her chair. “We have
Rothly’s record of what happened when he was in the interdimension. We believe his account is…unreliable. Only you would be able to correct that.”

  Curiosity pulsed from the queen—and the very walls. Others were listening.

  “Would you like to see the archived stories of the ambush and battle during the dimensional portal opening?” the queen asked.

  “Yes,” Jenni said.

  “And perhaps you will add yours.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “There are, of course, scholars studying the event.” The queen waved a hand. “All aspects and from all the major Folk—djinn, elf, dwarf and mer.”

  “Scholars will study it forever,” Aric said. He wasn’t looking at Jenni, but at the queen, and had shifted closer.

  “Also true.” The queen stood.

  Aric did, too, taking Jenni’s hand and pulling her up.

  “I will have the volumes of the records brought to you.” The djinnfem inclined her head. “A gift.”

  Jenni was torn between gratitude and dread. “Thank you.”

  “Perhaps now that Rothly’s arm and magic have been restored, his memory will be better and he can amend his record, too.”

  Aric jerked beside her and Jenni sensed that he hadn’t heard about Rothly’s magic. She didn’t correct the queen about Rothly’s talent.

  The Fire Queen gazed down at Jenni. “I would like to extend an invitation to you—” her gaze flicked to Aric “—and Treeman Paramon, to dinner tonight. Informal, in our suite. We dine late, in three hours.” Her gaze flicked toward the huge window and the dark sky of full night.

  Jenni seemed stuck to the floor, her feet wouldn’t move. She didn’t want to go to dinner, but she sensed the queen hadn’t actually discussed what she wished. Another thing that Jenni didn’t want to do that she would. So many in the last few days!

  She’d been reacting a lot, been manipulated. But now was not the time to dig in her heels. “Very well.” She forced the words from her mouth. The day had already been too long, but she could nap again.