Heart of Fire

by Kristen Painter

  She gasped. “A bit rough for my taste but I will adapt.”

  Jessalyne’s voice suddenly filled his head. Travel safely, my love. I’ll be waiting for you. Her words hushed the thrum of anger rushing through him. He glanced toward the north tower and a quiet sense of joy unlike anything he’d ever known flowed into his being. She loved him. He threw his head back and laughed.

  Tearing her hand away, Salena rubbed her wrist, her eyes filled with hurt. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Compared to Lady Jessalyne, you are a very different woman indeed. As different as dung is from a rose. Did you really think to seduce me with the scent of my half-brother still clinging to you?” He shook his head, slitting his eyes at her as he dismissed her.

  “Disrespect your future queen again and you will be sent home to your baron father with instructions that your family is no longer welcome in the king’s court. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, your highness,” she hissed before rushing back to the stunned girls behind her.

  Ertemis strode toward the stables, wishing Jessalyne walked beside him. He very much wanted to feel her hand in his, to inhale her perfume and hear her voice. Away for such a short period of time and already he longed to return to her.

  Brynden ended his flirtation with a young scullery maid as Ertemis approached. Dragon snuffled, nudging Brynden with his nose. Brynden bowed awkwardly. “Your highness, Dragon is ready.”

  “Brynden, the bowing and such…” Ertemis shook his head. The boy was so eager to please. “Less is more. Now, saddle Lady Jessalyne’s donkey for yourself.”

  “Aye, your high—er, master elf.”

  Ertemis rubbed Dragon’s nose while he waited for Brynden to finish. He stared at the polished walls of Castle Ryght. Not only did he now have a place to call home, but he also had a woman to come home to.

  * * *

  Jessalyne picked up the book she’d found and settled onto a padded bench near the window, eager to determine if it held the spell she needed. There was no organization to the information it held. The first spell was for turning mice into locust, something Jessalyne couldn’t imagine a use for. The next spell was for intensifying a thunderstorm. She clapped the book shut when the third involved a mix of swan’s blood and children’s tears.

  “What kind of book is this?” She starred at the cover again, trying to decipher the runes.

  “It’s a grimoire.” Fynna walked back into the room, her face and voice bereft of emotion.

  “What is it?”

  “A book of the dark arts. Not something to be taken lightly.” She slumped onto a bench at the worktable.

  “Fynna, are you okay?”

  “No. But I will be.”

  Jessalyne hoped so. She’d never seen Fynna so brokenhearted. “I guess I need to finish reading this wretched book.”

  “I saw Ertemis and Brynden preparing to leave out in the courtyard.”

  Happy to change the subject, Jessalyne smiled. “I thought Ertemis a message. I wonder if his mindsight heard me.”

  “I think Salena was trying to send him a message, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was talking to him. Flirting. She put her hand on his arm but judging by his reaction, she won’t do that again soon.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Jessalyne’s neck as her temperature rose. “She’d best not or I’ll deal with her.”

  Fynna fanned herself with her hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re toasting me! Calm down. Ertemis is capable of taking care of himself.” She picked up a broom and began to sweep.

  “I know. You’re right.” She sighed and opened the book again. “There’s too much to do to worry about Salena.”

  * * *

  “For the fifth time, you will not even glimpse Elysium.” Ertemis shook his head at Brynden’s questions.

  “Not even just a little bit?”

  “No!”

  “Will I see any elves?”

  Ertemis pivoted in his saddle. “What am I? Or don’t I count because I’m only half-blooded?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...nay, your lordship, of course you count.” Brynden’s cheeks went red.

  Ertemis turned back around. “If you want to see full blooded high born elves, you will have to wait until my lady mother’s arrives for the ceremony.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “I’ve asked you not to call me that. Lordship and highness are bad enough. No sir.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Quiet now. I need to listen for the way.” He regulated the beat of his heart to match his mother’s, the rhythm strengthening as the landscape changed. Familiar scenery gave way to the bog path.

  He spoke to Brynden again. “Stay on the path and keep me in sight at all times. Do not deviate, do not hesitate, and you will be fine. This is enchanted ground we tread, between the worlds of fey and mortal. There are creatures here you cannot begin to imagine.”

  A birdlike cry pierced the silence and Brynden jumped, fresh fear rounding his eyes. “Aye.”

  Ertemis was beginning to see the affect of his human companion on the trip to the Ferryman’s pier. The sky was darker than his first visit. The bog seemed closer to the path. Muddy ooze sucked at the higher ground as if trying to drag the path under.

  He kept his pace slow so there was no chance Brynden would fall behind. When they reached the pier, the sky was a murky soup of thunderclouds. Fingers of wind tore at their clothes. The Ferryman waited at the end of the jetty, his skiff level although the inland sea of Lythe foamed around it.

  The Ferryman shook his head at Brynden.

  Ertemis called out above the wind. “I’m not seeking passage for the boy or myself. I only wish a message be delivered to my lady mother.”

  The winds eased as he pulled the sealed scroll from his pack and held it so the Ferryman could see it. The Ferryman beckoned for the scroll. Ertemis dismounted, motioning for Brynden to stay put. He walked down the pier, mindful of the churning sea.

  Turning the scroll over to the Ferryman, Ertemis wondered if he should await a response. The Ferryman pointed back toward Brynden and the animals, then pointed to the ground. Ertemis guessed that meant he should.

  The Ferryman disappeared into the fog before Ertemis stepped off the pier.

  “What now?” Brynden looked anxious to leave.

  “We wait.”

  * * *

  “Fynna! I found the separation spell. I think the spell on the next page is what we’re looking for. It has to be.” Jessalyne spread the book across the worktable. Fynna dropped her dusting rag and came to look for herself.

  “A joining spell.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, this is dark magic. Are you sure?”

  “How can it be dark magic when we’re using it for good?”

  “But this spell is for things like attaching an enemy to a tree or for giving someone donkey ears.”

  “So why shouldn’t it work for wings? I think the spell is only in this book as an accompaniment to the separation spell.”

  “Well, I’m willing.” A slight smile brightened Fynna’s face.

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Fynna nodded. “I agree. We can use the worktable.”

  “Will you fetch a quilt from our room to lay over it? I want to read the spell again and gather the ingredients.” Fynna skipped out of the room. Jessalyne sat down with the book. She checked the spell for any nuance that might cause it to go wrong. Anything belonging to Sryka was suspect in her mind. No reason for Fynna to pay a greater price than she already had.

  Seeing nothing overtly dangerous, she ransacked Sryka’s stores for the ingredients. A few of them, like shaved horse hoof and dried stitcher beetles, made her grimace, but most of the others, like sap from a speckled elm, seemed perfectly normal. She added them to the caldron and heated them as directed.

  Fynna came back in and spread a quilt over the worktable. “Are you ready?”

&nb
sp; Jessalyne ladled some of the mixture into a dish. “I guess so. You?”

  “Definitely.” The pixie hopped up on the table and lay face down.

  “Slip your tunic down in the back so I can see the scars.”

  Fynna adjusted herself on the table, fixing her tunic as Jessalyne had asked, then rested her forehead on her arms and waited. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you, Fynna. That means a lot to me. I’m going to get your wings now.” And hope she lived up to that trust. Jessalyne swung the unlocked armoire doors open and gently lifted the wings. Almost weightless and brittle as autumn leaves, they rested in her hands like shadows. She moved slowly back toward the table so the air didn’t lift them out of her hands.

  Just below the small of Fynna’s neck, two indigo crescents marked the points where her wings had once been. Jessalyne smeared a bit of the potion on each crescent, then laid each wing as close to the spots as possible.

  “I don’t know if this will hurt or not.”

  “It can’t hurt any worse than it already does.” The quilt muffled Fynna’s voice. “I’m ready.”

  Jessalyne picked up the grimoire and with a calming breath, began to read. “Whether lost or newly found, these two objects shall be bound, and when the two have been combined, leave no seam for eyes to find. Joined together as flesh to bone, joined together as if grown, bind them now for evermore with this spell do I implore.”

  A quick, sharp sucking sound rent the air. Fynna cried out and arched her back. The wings began to spread. With a painful mewling, she collapsed onto the quilt. “It hurts so bad...they’re too damaged...I cannot bear it.” She fell silent, her clenched fists going limp.

  Without hesitation, Jessalyne dropped the book and raised her hands over her fallen friend. She called her magic, focusing on Fynna’s desecrated wings. She imagined them as best she could, whole and beautiful and healthy.

  Pain tore through her as she absorbed the damage. Heat built in her, burning the pain away. The room wavered and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back slightly. Awash in fiery magic, her awareness began to melt. She saw Fynna’s wings. Brilliant blues and greens flashing like jewels. Gossamer beauty alive and fluttering. Heat darkened her vision and the wings were gone.

  She stumbled away from the table and fell to her knees. The cold stone floor felt so good. She pressed her cheek against it, letting it leach the heat from her body and drifted off as darkness claimed her.

  “Lady Jessalyne, are you all right?” Sir Laythan shook her. “What happened? How did Fynna get her wings back?” He helped her sit.

  “Where’s Fynna? My head hurts and I’m starving.”

  “Fynna’s asleep on the table. It’s no wonder you’re starving, you missed lunch and dinner. That’s why I came looking for you. Are you all right? What happened?”

  “I found the joining spell to fix Fynna’s wings but then I had to heal her because they were so damaged. It took more out of me than I expected. Did you try to wake Fynna? I’m sure she’s hungry too.”

  “When is Fynna not hungry?” Laythan helped her stand.

  “Oh...look at her wings. They’re so beautiful. No wonder she missed them so much.”

  Curled around Fynna’s sleeping form, her wings created a beautiful crystalline blanket of swirling blues and greens. They were very much like butterfly wings, as Fynna had described them, and now, they pulsed with life.

  “Wake up sleepy head. We missed dinner.”

  “Mmm…dinner.” Fynna stretched and yawned. “Why didn’t somebody wake me sooner? I’m nearly dead with hunger.”

  Jessalyne laughed. “Is that all you’re concerned with?”

  Fynna sat up, her wings fluttering out behind her. Recognition lit up her face. “I have my wings back! Thank you!” She launched herself off the table and hugged Jessalyne.

  “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure to give them back to you.”

  Fynna clapped. “Let’s eat!”

  * * *

  After a restless evening, Ertemis woke to a clear pink firstlight. Even the fog had dissipated to little more than mist. He stretched, glancing over at Brynden. The boy sat wrapped in a blanket, huddled in front of Dragon and Petal. By the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “I wasn’t tired.”

  Ertemis stifled a laugh. “We will be here until the Ferryman returns, so try to sleep a little.”

  “If you insist.” He laid down right where he was.

  Soft snoring serenaded Ertemis as he rummaged in his pack for breakfast. He ate staring into the mist, hoping the Ferryman would come soon so he might return to Jessalyne. Once Dragon and Petal had been fed, he sat on the pier, waiting and watching.

  The mist split like a curtain and the Ferryman’s skiff floated into view. He was not alone. A pale grey horse stood beside the Ferryman. Another figure held the horse’s reins. Ertemis squinted. The figure’s hood dropped back to reveal his mother.

  He hadn’t expected her to return with the Ferryman, only to send her response. He swallowed. Besides the day and time, the only information contained in the message was that he was getting married and if she wanted to attend, a guide would meet her outside Shaldar City’s gates to take her the rest of the way. He had planned on being that guide so he could tell her he knew who his father was during the trip. There was no chance he could hide anything from her on the ride back. One ‘your highness’ from Brynden and the bird would be out of the cage.

  “Mother. I didn’t expect to see you.” He reached for her hand and helped her onto the pier, taking her horse’s reins. It spoke volumes that the tashathna had let her come unescorted. Either they considered her expendable, or assumed he would be guide enough. Both were probably true.

  “You sound unhappy I came.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Nay, it’s my great pleasure to be your escort. Jessalyne looks forward to meeting you.”

  “As I do her. That’s why I decided to come so quickly, so that I might get to know this woman who’s captured your heart.” She smiled broadly and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy for you, my son.” He returned her smile, still trying to determine the best way to tell her where they were going and who she would be seeing. The Ferryman faded back into the mist. Ertemis helped her mount.

  “Who is that sleeping boy?” She nodded toward Brynden.

  “My squire.”

  She tipped her head at him. “You have a squire?”

  And so it began. “I will explain as we ride. Brynden, get up.”

  Brynden opened his eyes. He looked directly at Ertemis’s mother. The morning sun rose behind her, illuminating her with a soft glow. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Nay. My lady mother has decided to return with us. Mount up so we might leave. You may lead.”

  Brynden hopped up and bowed low. “Nice to meet you, mistress elf.”

  “You may call me mistress Elana. And there is no need for bowing.”

  “I keep telling him that,” Ertemis said.

  Brynden nodded and scrambled up onto Petal, stealing glances at her every chance he got. They stayed single file on the path until they left the bog behind. Then Brynden held the front, while Elana dropped back next to her son.

  Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she spoke. “Your mind is swirling with thought. I can almost hear it.”

  “There is much that still needs to be said. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start with what burdens you the most.”

  “You must promise me you will not turn back.”

  “A promise given blindly is a fool’s demise.”

  “Please don’t quote Aramaeis to me. The Tashathna Precepts lost their meaning when I entered the Legions.”

  She bowed her head, obviously discomforted by his words. “I am sorry. They come as quickly to my lips as song to a bird.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. Between you and Jessalyne, I shall be apologizing for many years to come, I fear.�
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  She smiled. “I will not leave, but I will not promise.”

  “I cannot ask for more than that.” He cleared his throat. “I know who my father is.”

  She stayed silent, eyes never leaving the way ahead.

  “Jessalyne saved his life and brought us together.”

  When she finally spoke, her voice was husky with emotion. “So you know then. Your father is a great man.”

  “He is a great man and not just because he’s king. He recognized me as his son, his first-born heir. The ceremony is more than just a wedding. It’s also a coronation. My coronation.” No matter how many times he said it or thought it, the idea remained foreign to him.

  She turned to him, her eyes wide and sparkling. “You’re to be king?”

  “Aye.”

  “My son is to be king.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “I never thought I would see the day when the king of Shaldar would have elven blood running through his veins.” She nodded. “This is remarkable news.”

  They talked more and day wore away. Lastlight drew in around them. Crickets sang and the first evening stars glimmered in the sky

  Ertemis pointed. “Are you tired, mother? There’s a clearing ahead. We could camp there for the night.”

  “I might be too excited to sleep, but I could eat a little supper.”

  Ertemis dismounted when they reached the spot and helped his mother down. “Brynden, see to the horses while I start a fire. Mother, I don’t see a bedroll among your things.”

  “I didn’t bring one.”

  “You can use mine.” He unpacked his and tossed it to the ground before handing Dragon’s reins to Brynden.

  “Ertemis!”

  Jessalyne’s frightened cry pierced his mind. He felt her anger in his bones. The bitter taste of her fear filled his mouth. Snatching Dragon’s reins back from Brynden, he leapt into the saddle. “Brynden, see my mother safely back to Shaldar in the morning. I must leave now. Something’s wrong. Jessalyne needs me.” And with that, he was gone.

  Ertemis arrived at the castle gates well before firstlight, his mind racing with possibilities. He hadn’t heard Jessalyne’s voice again, no matter how many times he called out to her. He could still hear her heartbeat but it had grown progressively fainter. Nothing had ever filled him with such fear.