Spellkeeper

by Courtney Privett

  Hael stayed on her back in the grass long enough to recognize that the stars and moon were not stationary lights. They appeared above one mountain, climbed as high as they could, then disappeared behind a different mountain. She had trouble seeing exactly what the mountains were even in the bright moonlight. When she asked the physician Ashala about it, the woman told her that every Uldru she examined had poor distance vision because they had never needed it before. Hael didn't know what to think about that. She knew little about distances other than the nearness or farness of things within the hive or the concept that there were other hives in other places, and the vastness of Mountain Home itself was enough to overwhelm her.

  She set the crunchy end of the bread she'd been tearing apart on the ground and sat upright. She kept telling herself that it would take many cycles before her mind and heart settled down, but she was unbearably restless. “What do we do now, Hael?” was all her people asked, and, “We wait and learn,” was all she could reply.

  She sipped the last of her water as she looked around. The Uldru were gathered in pairs and small groups around the field. Some had Above people with them, some were alone and staring at the stars with a mixture of confusion and happiness. All had eaten more in a single meal than they had collectively since the hive burned, and it filled a hollowness that none of them realized needed to be filled. They were used to being hungry, so used to it that they thought hunger was their normal state. Now the people Above were showing them that food was limitless and this new feeling of being well-fed was as relieving as it was unfamiliar.

  This was the right choice, she thought as cold air moved across her face and through her hair. It was cold here, and the coldness changed throughout the night. She felt it on her face and feet, but the clothing she wore kept the rest of her body warm. She was comfortable, but the restlessness nagged at her. There was something she needed to do before the darkness of this wake ended.

  She left her empty cup on a table and picked up a small piece of the salty, waxy food called cheese before approaching a pair of Above people who stood together by a sprawling plant at the edge of the field.

  “He doesn't know what it is. I gave it to him a little at a time in between other things so he thought he was translating more nonsense. He's finished with it now, so I have the complete spell.” Hael couldn't see their faces, but she knew this voice. This was Kemi, the young woman she had met upon waking.

  “He may figure it out on his own. He's quite intelligent for a human.” The second person had long black hair. Hael recognized her as Lyssa, the leader of the Mountain Home hive.

  “I have no doubt. He already asked me if I was giving him a puzzle to piece together. It doesn't matter that much now. We'll need him to participate in the spell. It requires four participants, and one has to be an empath.”

  Hael crept closer. She was near them, but they were so focused on each other that they hadn't noticed her yet.

  “Do you have all the components?” Lyssa asked.

  “No. I'm working on it. I need a hellebore flower and that's not going to happen for another three months.”

  Lyssa let out a long sigh, then shook her head. “Of course it has to be one of those invocations with odd catalysts and specific timing. Well, we need to pray to Zaradia that your father doesn't find the other two before we do. Time is so vital now. He must be in the end phase with Shannon, so he'll be looking for the rest. And now we know where we are in the sequence, now that–”

  “Harbinger.” Kemi whispered. Hael wondered if she heard the word right, because it was meaningless. Maybe it was a name, or some sort of profanity.

  Lyssa shivered and pulled her fabric tight around her shoulders. Hael wasn't sure if it was a blanket or some sort of loose and shapeless clothing. “You need four. Who is your fourth?”

  “Iefyr. Tessen, Elsin, Iefyr, me. I know you think he's not competent as a witch, but I've seen him fight and his combat and archery skills make up for his inexperience with fire.”

  “I'd rather you use someone with a mature dragon. What about Lannick?”

  “Lannick would never work with Elsin. He's quite a skilled witch, but he's still bitter that you promoted Elsin to Captain over him. To be honest, I'd love to take Ragan, but he isn't magic-skilled and he can't leave here safely.”

  “No, Ragan has to stay with me. The Fae are winning some of the northern battles and I've heard rumors of uprisings in the south, so elven fury is especially high.”

  Kemi paused for several breaths, then laughed. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were growing fond of him.”

  Lyssa's scowl was apparent even from behind. “He is . . . useful. And he will continue to be in the years to come. I wish you weren't including Tessen, but we don't have any other empaths and it might be decades before we come across another. Guard your heart regarding him. You can't allow yourself to act upon your feelings.”

  Another pause. “It's not mutual. He's my friend, nothing more.”

  “Good.” Lyssa spun on her toes and smiled at Hael. Her teeth were blunt and Hael wondered how she could possibly tear apart her food with them. “Hello, my dear. Your name is Hael, right? You're the girl who led the Uldru out of the caves?”

  Hael nodded. She wasn't sure how to request something from a person who spoke so many words she didn't understand.

  “Do you need help with something?” Lyssa asked. She seemed kind, but Hael felt uncomfortable near her. Maybe it was only because Hael had overheard a long conversation that she could make little sense of.

  “I need to see Itrek,” Hael said. She ran her fingertips along the side stitching of her clothing. Her fingers caught an edge and she found her hand searching the empty depths of a pocket.

  “I'm sorry, dear. Who is Itrek?” Lyssa asked.

  Kemi smiled at Hael, but quickly looked away. The younger woman held too many secrets, and Hael could feel them but not identify them.

  Hael looked back toward Lyssa. “My prisoner. The Varaku. His name is Itrek. I want to talk to him.”

  Lyssa startled, then smiled. “Oh. Yes. That . . . creature . . . is yours to do with what you wish. Kembriana, why don't you take her to the dungeon? I ought to go find the Goldtrees and see what they need to help accommodate our guests.”

  “Very well, Mother,” Kemi said. She started to turn away, then swiveled back and held up her hand. “Writing. Rin told me they need things to write on and with. Paper, slateboard, that sort of thing. It's not urgent, but we should start collecting them for when the refugees are ready.”

  “Yes. All right,” Lyssa said, her voice muffled despite her mouth remaining uncovered. She shook her head, then nodded at Hael. “Let me know what you need, and I'll try to help. You're my guests for as long as you need to be. You're safe here, and I want you to be comfortable.”

  “Follow me.” Kemi's hand brushed against Hael's elbow. “I'll take you to see your prisoner.”

  Hael stepped carefully as she followed Kemi on a stone path. The stones were cold beneath her feet, almost too cold to tolerate. This must be another reason Above people wore clothing over their feet.

  Once out of sight of where the Uldru enjoyed the stars, Kemi slowed her pace and allowed Hael to catch up.

  “Is it so cold always?” Hael asked, her shoulder brushing against Kemi's. They were nearly the same height.

  “Colder, often,” Kemi replied. “Rin told me it's almost always the same temperature underground, with only small pockets of warmth or cold. It's still summer up here. In winter it's much colder and it snows. We'll make sure everyone has warmer clothes. And shoes. You'll need to get used to wearing shoes.”

  “Shoes, winter, summer . . . snow. Shoes are the things on your feet, right? The rest aren't words to me.”

  “You speak in terms of cycles and breaths, youth and maturity, and I think that's all you know of time. I don't know how to explain the seasons to you other than as shifts in the weather that happen with regularity over a year. Damn it. You do
n't know what a year is. I don't know your cycles, but if they line up with our days at all, there are about thirty cycles in a month and twelve months in a year. Each season is three months, so it's warm summer for ninety cycles, cold winter for ninety, and then in between each of those is another ninety. Spring is when it starts to get warmer and everything blooms, and autumn is when it starts to get colder and crops are harvested, then die off.”

  “I don't know numbers past fifty. I know the words, but I can't count them.” Hael shrank as a bright light streaked overhead. “One of your stars is broken.”

  Kemi giggled into her hand. “That's a meteorite. There are stories that beyond this world lie many others, and each star you see is another sun being circled by other worlds. Meteorites come from the sky, from beyond our world. Pieces of comets and maybe of other worlds. They usually burn up, but sometimes they land on the ground. They have a lot of metal in them. Rin has a Stardrake sword, a weapon forged in dragon fire with metal from our world mixed with metal from a meteorite.”

  “The sky is not a ceiling?” Hael asked, confused.

  Kemi looked upward and smiled. “The sky is infinite. It's not something you can climb up to and touch. It just keeps going.”

  “Your world is very strange.”

  “Yes it is. Even for those of us who were born into it, it's strange. There is always something new to see, something inexplicable, something without a name.” Kemi led Hael into a dark stone building, then removed a blue stone lantern from the wall so they could descend a foot-worn staircase. “You're all so calm. I don't think I would be if the same happened to me, if I found myself in a world so different from the only one I knew.”

  The dungeon entrance smelled of rotting leather and decaying mushrooms. It was a familiar smell, but Hael already knew it wasn't coming from Itrek. Some Varaku had an unpleasant smell, especially if they were in a mating phase or had recently eaten an Uldru, but most only smelled like dust.

  “I try to find the things that are familiar and then only look at the rest one by one. I told the others to do the same. If we look at it all we can't calm our hearts or minds.” Hael rested her hand on the rail at the bottom of the stairs. “Like this. I can look at this. Many things here are this material. What is it made out of?”

  Kemi swung her lantern toward Hael's hand. “Wood. It's made from trees. We cut them down and shape them into what we need.” She nodded toward the end of the corridor. “Come on. He's at the end. It's the only cell without a window.”

  Hael sneezed, then stepped forward. “It smells terrible in here.”

  “Yeah. It floods sometimes. We had to scrape wheelbarrows full of muck out in the spring after a week of storms. Your prisoner is the only one down here. We haven't needed to lock anyone away, so the rest is empty or storage.”

  The man with the fluffy tail sat on a chair next to the metal bars at the end of the corridor. Even seated he was huge, taller than anyone else in Mountain Home, but he appeared strong rather than overfed. The blacks of his eyes were vertical like Kemi's, but the blue part didn't fill the entire eye and some white was visible.

  “Hello,” he said before dropping his gaze to the rectangular object on his lap. It was split in half, with very thin, decorated sheets stacked on top of each other on top of a thicker sheet. He pressed his hands together and the object closed so the thick sheets protected the thin sheets. Hael had no idea what its purpose might be.

  “Guard duty tonight, Ragan?” Kemi asked. She hung the lantern on a hook, then stretched her arms over her head.

  Ragan rubbed his nose and yawned. “I guess. I wanted to see what the bastards who tortured my family looked like, wanted to see if it would talk to me.”

  “And did it?”

  “Nah. It's asleep. Ugly thing, isn't it?” Ragan tucked the rectangular object under his arm and stood. A small white head popped out of the pocket on his hip. He was carrying some sort of animal, perhaps a long-necked salamander or other tasty snack. “You're Hael, right? You look a little different cleaned up, but I recognize those silver eyes of yours.”

  “And your name is Ragan?” Hael asked, arching her back to look up at him. His size alone should have frightened her, but his melodic voice was kind. “You have a tail. No one else here does. Why?”

  Ragan absentmindedly stroked the head of the creature in his pocket. “My mother was Faeline. That's not anything you need to worry about right now. I take it you came to visit your prisoner. I'll leave you to it. I'm gonna mix Tessen more tea.”

  “He was asleep when I left him, but that was a couple hours ago,” Kemi said. She stepped to the side to allow Ragan to pass. “I don't think he's actually sick. Well, he is, but not with a cold.”

  “Yeah. He tries to do too much for everyone else and forgets about himself. He doesn't have anything left to give right now. We've all been working him too hard. Should've seen that sooner. He'll be okay once he gets a couple good nights of sleep. He's damned irritated with himself for all this flaring up right when the Uldru burst out of the ground.”

  Kemi ran her fingertips along the nearest cell door. “He's an altruistic empath with anxiety and an itching desire to be liked by everyone. We need to do better about reminding him that he doesn't have to say yes all the time.”

  “That we do. G'night, Kemi. You too, Hael.”

  “Until again. That's what Uldru say when parting,” Hael said.

  Ragan smiled, then turned away and walked toward the stairs. “Well, then, until again. Sleep well.”

  Kemi stayed near the door while Hael crept closer to Itrek's cell.

  The young Varaku rested on his side on a bed in the corner, but he was no longer asleep. His once-bright eyes were now dull and uneasy. He squirmed under his heavy blanket once he noticed Hael watching him.

  “Did they feed you? I asked them to.” She crouched and tapped her fingers on the lower bars.

  Itrek didn't answer, but instead glanced at an empty bowl near Hael's feet.

  She reached through the bars and touched the cold edge of the bowl. “I'll have them bring more before the light comes. They raise animals to eat, and animals for their large animals to eat. I know what it feels like to starve. It hurts. Every part of your body screams because it's eating itself alive. Your people wronged my people, but you helped us. I won't make you get used to starvation like Uldru were forced to. Hurting you like that would make me the same as Varaku, but I am better. Much better.”

  Itrek slowly crawled to the bars, but chose to lie on the stone floor rather than sit upright. He was still weak, still dying. Hesitantly, he reached one of his four hands toward the bowl, but instead of touching it, he grasped Hael's hand. His skin was warm and dry. With tears in his eyes and his tentacles limp against his head, he looked up at Hael. “I don't know what I am without my home and family. I don't know where I am. I am alone and I have nothing. If I'm brought food I will eat it because I can't help myself, but I'd rather die.”

  “I don't want you to die,” Hael said. She ran her thumb along the back of his hand, then withdrew from his grasp.

  “Why? I don't understand. You killed the rest of my people. Why not me?”

  “Because I need to show my people that I'm better than Varaku. I think you might eventually be, too.” Hael stood and turned away from him. The stars called to her and she didn't want to lose what little darkness this waking cycle had left.

  10

  Benny

  The crumbling outpost was as good a place as any to ride out the sandstorm. There was no food or water in the askew cupboards, but they had enough provisions to last a couple more days and the walls effectively shielded the relentless wind and drifting sand. The Satlan Desert raged with unsurvivable fury.

  The storm inside the outpost was worse.

  “Monster. Monsters deserve to die. My family died because of your family.” Juna drew his gladius and lunged toward Radamar. “Don't get in my way this time, Benny, or I'll kill you too.”

  Mordegan
gripped Juna's arm, forcing him to lower the weapon. “Whoa. Threaten my daughter again and you'll wish you hadn't. Enough. Two weeks and that elf's done nothing to you. He's hardly even said a word.”

  Radamar looked up at the blade, resignation in his dark eyes. “Mordegan, I already told you it's all right. I don't have it left in me to fight him, especially if killing me brings him relief.”

  Juna narrowed his carnelian eyes and growled. “Why? Why won't you fight for your life? A monster like you shouldn't lie down and accept death.”

  Radamar shook his head and looked away. “The only thing I have left is my daughter, and she's all I'll ever have. She's safe and her mother will be with her soon. I'm not necessary anymore.”

  Benny jammed the needle into the tear on Mordegan's jacket sleeve and scowled. Again. Again and again and again. Same conflict, same resolution. Juna threatens, Radamar accepts, no one dies. Two weeks of this shit and Benny didn't know how much more of it she could take. They had fought off desert highwaymen and roving predators, and still every pause came back to this.

  “Radamar, this passive suicide shit has to stop,” Benny mumbled. She drew up the needle to complete the first stitch. “He wants you to die. You want you to die. Guess what? I don't. I don't particularly want to raise Radella on my own. She needs her father just as much as she needs me.”

  “No one needs a monster,” Juna said through gritted teeth. His sword was directed at Radamar's neck again. This time, he pushed forward for the kill.

  “I said knock it off!” Benny threw a wall of condensed blue light at the Uldru. It contacted him from head to toe and threw him into the nearest pillar. He gasped, then dropped to the ground. “Dad, why don't you take him and leave? We can get the rest of the way to Auberline on our own. I'm just going to kill all of you pustules if I have to listen to any more of this.”