Heart of Fire

by Kristen Painter

  “Really? You think it’s lovely?” Fynna smiled. “I’m a pixie. You look fey but you aren’t. Your ears are round. They should be pointed, like this.” She tapped the tip of her ear.

  “You’re right, I’m not fey. You’re also the first pixie I’ve ever met.” Jessalyne squinted at Fynna. “I thought pixies had wings?”

  Fynna’s mouth tightened to a hard line. “We do. Usually. That’s another story. What can I do for you, milady?”

  “I’m looking for Mistress Sryka.”

  Fynna’s big eyes got even bigger. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’ve come to be her apprentice.”

  “Does she know you’re coming?”

  “Yes, but I think she expected me many years ago.”

  Fynna nodded. “I’ll take word to her. Wait here ‘til I come back and let you know what she says.”

  “Very well. Thank you.” The pixie dashed off to a far set of steps.

  * * *

  Fynna took the steps more quickly than usual. She couldn’t wait to pass this tidbit on the old crone. An apprentice, indeed. Sryka would take one look at that beautiful young face and turn the lady into a toad. Or something worse.

  She bounded up the last few steps. “Mistress Sryka,” she called out.

  The old woman came in off the wall walk. “Must you shriek, Fynna? I swear you are more bother than you’re worth.”

  “Pardons, mistress. I have news.”

  “Well? Spit it out!” Sryka stared at her.

  “There is a girl in the hall who says you might be expecting her. Something about being your apprentice.” Fynna could not help but add, “She is quite beautiful. And young.”

  Sryka’s mouth opened slightly, her gaze distant. “The child is here. She’s here.” Her eyes refocused on Fynna. “Bring her here. Now!”

  “Yes, mistress.” Fynna started back down the stairs. She could not recall the last time Sryka had looked so pleased.

  * * *

  Ertemis rode without really knowing where he was going. Frustrated and disheartened by the whole day, he stopped and dismounted near a stream. Searching through his packs for an apple, his finger’s brushed against something unfamiliar. He pulled the bag off Dragon’s back and dumped it out. Four heavy suede pouches tumbled to the ground. Guilt lanced through him at the sight of Jessalyne’s gift. Why would she do that?

  She knew he needed the money to buy his freedom but he didn’t understand. After everything he’d said to her and the way he’d behaved, she’d done this.

  Dragon munched grass while Ertemis sat on the bank, staring at the swirling water, feeling more unworthy than he ever had in his life. He needed to talk to his mother and soon.

  “Open your heart. What is that supposed to mean?” He looked at Dragon. “Do you know what that’s supposed to mean?” Nose deep in a patch of young clover, Dragon ignored him.

  Ertemis groaned. He leaned back against a nearby tree and closed his eyes. All he could think of was Jessalyne. He should’ve apologized. He should’ve kissed her one last time. His fingers curled, remembering the delicate silk of her skin. Her heartbeat thrummed through him. The aching melody tortured his soul. “Open my heart for what? More pain? First my mother, now Jessalyne...”

  Suddenly, his mother’s words became clear. He knew how to find Elysium. Besides Jessalyne, the only other heartbeat he’d imprinted was his mother’s.

  He threw the saddlebags back over Dragon and leapt into the saddle. “Dragon! Quit filling your belly.”

  Straining his senses, a sound spun through him on a tremulous thread of hope. His mother’s heartbeat called to him.

  Hours passed and forest gradually gave way to moor. The air softened into mist, parting to reveal a trail winding through the marsh. He knew from his mother’s stories what waited on the other side.

  His heart hammered when the inland sea of Lythe came into view. A long pier ran from the end of the trail out into the water. The Ferryman lingered at the pier’s end, waiting. Although Ertemis saw nothing but swirling brume, he knew the isle of Elysium was there, somewhere beyond even fey sight.

  The Ferryman beckoned. Ertemis dismounted, leading Dragon. There was no sound as they walked down the pier, no hooves against wood, no jangling tack, not even birdsong. It unnerved Ertemis but he remained calm. He knew the Ferryman served as the final line of defense for the isle.

  Dragon walked onto the ferry first, surprising Ertemis with his willingness. With both of them aboard, the Ferryman pushed off soundlessly and they evanesced into the rising, rolling fog.

  * * *

  Fynna grabbed Jessalyne’s hand. “Come, she wants to see you immediately, milady.”

  “Wait! My bags!” She scooped them off the floor, trailing after the pixie. “Fynna, slow down! And please call me Jessalyne.”

  “Very well, she wants to see you immediately, milady Jessalyne.”

  “Just Jessalyne.”

  Fynna kept tugging her toward the stairs. “You look like the others but you aren’t.”

  “What does that mean?” Jessalyne asked, trying to keep up as they mounted the stairs.

  “The other ladies are all here to win the prince.” Fynna wrinkled her nose. “They tease me. Are you going to tease me because I don’t want to waste time liking you if you are.”

  “I give my word, I will not tease you.” She wondered if the steps actually ended somewhere or if this was some of Sryka’s magic. They passed a small landing with a single door but still kept climbing.

  At last, Fynna led her into a large room at the tower’s top. Old books, pottery jugs and little glass jars crammed the shelves covering every available wall. What looked like a stuffed gryphon’s foot sat next to twin crocks labeled simply, Big and Small. A fire raged in the fireplace, boiling the smelly contents of a caldron and warming the room considerably.

  One door, bolted shut, stood across from another one. That door was wide open and led to the outside, to some sort of wall walk.

  “Mistress! I’ve got her!” Fynna yelled.

  Sryka walked through the open door, wind whipping her untamed grey hair around and billowing up under her robes making her look larger than she was.

  Jessalyne tensed as the woman’s eyes studied her. She looked down, unsure what to do.

  “Shy, are we?” The old woman’s voice rasped across Jessalyne’s skin and she met the woman’s gaze again.

  Sryka smiled and Fynna hiccupped. “You are far lovelier than I expected, child. You will do nicely.” She quickly added, “As my apprentice.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Sryka.” Jessalyne relaxed slightly. “I’m pleased to be here.”

  “You will room with Fynna, who will now leave and straighten up her chamber so that it is suitable for human occupation.” Sryka glared at the pixie, who scuttled out the door and down the steps.

  The old woman eased herself into a well-stuffed chair near the fire. “Ah...the heat feels good on old bones. Come, sit, child.” She pointed a gnarled finger at a footstool next to the chair. “Tell me your name.”

  Jessalyne crouched on the low stool. “My name is Jessalyne.”

  “I expected you sooner, Jessalyne. I requested your mother send you when you reached your tenth year.”

  “My mother passed when I was very young. She did leave your instructions with my father but he was...remiss in getting them to me. I apologize.”

  “I must ask you a very important question.” Sryka positioned her scratchy fingers beneath Jessalyne’s chin.

  “Yes, mistress?” The woman’s skin was ice.

  “Are you still pure?”

  “Mistress?”

  Sryka sighed. “Your virtue, is it intact?”

  Jessalyne cast her gaze away. “Yes, Mistress Sryka. My virtue is secure. I’ve known no man.” Although she longed for one. One with dark skin and star-sparked eyes and lips warm as…she swallowed and need flooded her belly.

  “Are you all right, child? You look unwell.”

 
“Just tired, mistress. The traveling has worn me out.”

  Sryka nodded. “You will rest today, then. Tomorrow your training begins.”

  “Thank you, a rest would do me good.”

  “Through the door on the lower landing you’ll find your chambers. Don’t worry about Fynna. If you cannot bear the wretched creature, I’ll find another place for her.”

  “I’m sure she will be fine. Tomorrow, then?”

  Sryka nodded and waved her off.

  She headed down to the first landing. She was relieved her late arrival had not cost her the apprenticeship. She pushed the door open. “Fynna?”

  The pixie swept the bare stone floor with a worn broom. “Jessalyne!” The broom clattered to the floor, and she clapped her hands. “It will be nice to have company.” She looked around. “The room isn’t the best, but it’s serviceable.”

  The room was almost as large as Sryka’s above but without any other doors. Unlike Sryka’s, this room was nearly empty. Two straw-stuffed mattresses lay on the bare stone floor. Between the mattresses sat a trunk covered with melted candle stubs. A worn, double door wardrobe stood against the far wall, across from the fireplace.

  “Is this all there is?” Jessalyne hands went to her hips.

  Fynna frowned. “I’m afraid so. My comfort isn’t really Sryka’s concern.”

  “How long has it been this way?”

  “Since I been here.” Fynna plopped onto one of the mattress. “Five years.”

  Jessalyne thought of the comfort of Valduuk’s and the luxury of the Gilded Rose. She threw her bags onto one of the mattresses and shook her head. “This will not do.”

  Fynna jumped up. “Please, don’t say anything to Sryka. She’ll get cross. I made that mistake when I first got here. The house stewardess won’t help either. She won’t even talk to me. Wretched old biddy. Mistress Wenda deserves to be bent over with rheumatism.”

  “Rheumatism?” Jessalyne thought for a moment. “Take me to her. Let me see what I can do.”

  Fynna shrugged. “Fine. Follow me. You’ll see for yourself, I guess.”

  * * *

  The ferry skimmed the water, barely disturbing the surface. The intense fog made it impossible to see anything beyond the edge of the skiff. Ertemis imagined the fog was what sucked up every bit of sound as well.

  A single shaft of sunlight broke through, splitting the mist cleanly. The fog pulled back like curtains being drawn. The brilliant, sudden daylight caused him to squint. Elysium rose out of Lythe, sparkling like a jewel in the distance.

  Elysium was more magnificent than any story his mother had ever told him. Built of washed limestone and polished marble, soft curves dictated the architecture of the city. Not a single hard line or sharp angle broke the seamless flow of one building into another. Carved into the pale cliffs, a wide serpentine staircase led down from the city to twin piers sweeping out into the water like welcoming arms.

  The ferry eased to a stop at the end of one pier. Ertemis led Dragon off the ferry. He wondered if he should thank the Ferryman. He turned, but the skiff already disappeared into the fog.

  Chanting and music floated in the air. Drawn by the sounds, he stepped off the curving pier and onto elven soil. Like a swarm of wasps, magic buzzed over his skin so strong his teeth clenched and the muscles in his back tightened. He rolled his shoulders, breathing deeply as the buzz lessened to a whisper. Elysium’s allure was instantly recognizable. A sense of well being washed over him and in that moment, his human half retreated, bested by the vibrating power of the elven homeland. No wonder his mother had been unable to stay away.

  Ertemis ascended the stairs toward the city and came to a landing. There an elder in pale robes stood behind a rostrum. Three thick plaits pulled his white hair back from his face, revealing his slanted ears. He closed the book he leafed through and nodded at Ertemis. “You seek someone.” It was not a question.

  “Aye, my lady mother.” Distrust knotted Ertemis’s gut. He wasn’t welcome here but, so far, no one had stopped him.

  “Her name?”

  “Shaylana Elana-naya” Ertemis thought it best to give both names. He didn’t know what she went by after so many years.

  The elder paged through the book, looking for what, Ertemis couldn’t guess. He tried to read the elder.

  His head snapped up, eyes flaring with light. “Your magic will not be tolerated here. Do you understand?”

  “Aye.” Ertemis rested his hand on his sword’s hilt.

  The elder went back to his book. He read something, then looked up again.

  “Ertemis Elta-naya.” Another statement. “You will wait here until I return.” The elder moved with a quickness Ertemis did not expect.

  A carved marble bench offered the only seat on the landing. After a short span of time, chimes rang out. Curiosity took over. He tried to read his surroundings. A sudden heaviness clamped down on him. It was like the fog he’d felt in Jessalyne’s cottage but thicker, more visceral. They’d shut him out.

  He sat on the bench for what seemed like a day. What was time to a race of near-immortals? Or perhaps they made him wait because they could.

  At last, the elder returned. A smaller cloaked figure followed behind. Ertemis sighed. He had the feeling they were about to tell him to leave.

  The elder moved aside to let the second elf pass. They exchanged a brief nod and the elder backed away.

  The smaller elf walked up to Ertemis. Slender hands slipped the hood back. Luminous beryl eyes stared up at him, edged with tears.

  “Mother,” he whispered.

  “Mi elta. Oh, I’ve missed you.” The words tumbled out of her in one short ragged breath. Tears spilled as she embraced him.

  At the feel of her arms around him, Ertemis froze. Memories flooded him. He was eight and she was telling him to be brave and kissing his forehead and his cheeks and her tears fell hot against his face.

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.

  She glanced up, a wisp of a smile replacing the tears. “The tashathna has granted us some time together here. They will not allow you into the city.”

  He scowled. “Why grant me entrance at all if they’re so afraid?”

  She pressed her hand against his cheek. “They wanted to see you for themselves.” She took his hand. “Please, sit.”

  He did as she asked. His mother was more beautiful than he remembered. “What are you called now?”

  She sat beside him, her gaze sweeping him hungrily. “Just Elana, to most.”

  Daughter. Just daughter.

  “It pleases me to see my son as a man.” She smiled a little broader. “You want something, I sense it.”

  “True. I do want something.” He returned her smile. “How is your life?”

  “My life is…good. My needs are met.” She twisted her hands. “Every day I regret what I did to you. You deserved better. I was weak and young. I’m so sorry.”

  He took both her hands in one of his. “Don’t be sorry. You did what you thought best. The Legion gave me a place in the world and a way to earn my keep.”

  “You are kind, even if you’re not truthful.” Tears still twinkled in her eyes as she reached up to cup his face between her hands. “You’ve grown into a handsome man. Have you a wife? Sons of your own?”

  He looked away, turning his face out of her hands. “Mother, you know what I am. Women seek me for other things, but not to wed.”

  She tipped her head. “But there is love in your heart. I feel it. Love and sorrow.” She put her hand to her mouth. “She’s why you’re here, isn’t she?”

  “I am not...in love.” He spat the word out. “That is a weak human emotion. Weakness has no place in my life.”

  “Love knows no race. You can’t deny what your heart feels. You miss her.” She put her hand on his arm. “You doubt her feelings for you.”

  He pulled away and stood, facing Lythe. “She’s an innocent and very gifted, a firemage in training. Fair beyond words...
” He shook his head. “She deserves better than what I can give.”

  “And you’re the one to decide this? You sound defeated from the start. If you went to battle that way, how long would you survive? Tell her how you feel.”

  Ertemis turned to face her. “This isn’t a battle. If it were, I would know what needs doing.” Anger crept into his voice. “The Legion raised me and you expect me to know how to speak sweet words to a beautiful woman above my station?” He threw his hands up. “I am lost.”

  She reached up and took his hands, pulling him back down beside her. “If you love her, isn’t it worth finding out if she loves you in return? And you do love her, so don’t tell me differently.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “Aye, I love her.” His answer was muffled through his fingers. “I’m sick with it.”

  “I think those words would be enough. Speak your heart to her, dash the consequences. Find her and do it at once. If she’s as beautiful as you say, some man will win her heart soon enough.”

  Ertemis looked into her eyes. “She’s not the only reason I’m here.” His voice went gravely serious. “I want the name of my father. I’ve waited long enough.”

  The color drained from her face. “I can’t give you that.” She looked away. “Leave him be, son. He isn’t the wicked man you think he is. You don’t know what passed between us. Both sides paid.

  “Why won’t you tell me? Why protect him? I’m your son. Don’t I deserve to know?”

  She stared at the ground. “He’s an old man by now, if he even still lives. Please, let him be.”

  “Why? Why do you hold this from me?” He pounded his fist on the bench between them.

  She turned to look at him, her jaw set. “I loved him and he loved me and we talked about making a life together, when...when things became different. Then I realized you grew in my belly and I panicked, fearing it would ruin everything and so, I fled.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “I was in Shaldar City as part of the Council sent to broker an alliance between Elysium and Shaldar. When I disappeared, the elves blamed King Maelthorn for the misdeeds of his court. In return, he blamed the elves for fouling the proceedings apurpose. Any hope for an alliance crumbled under the accusations.