Fairy World M.D., Boxed Set Two (4-6.5)

by Tamara Grantham

“Is something the matter?” Maveryck asked.

  I opened my eyes, only now realizing that my breathing had become erratic. My hands were clenched in a death grip around Kull’s fingers, and I carefully pried them away, surprised I hadn’t woken him.

  “I’m worried about him,” I answered.

  “It’s well that you are. But I would not worry too much. He’s got a stronger constitution than my companion had, so he may beat it altogether. It’s quite likely that the witch’s influence will take years before he succumbs to the madness.”

  “That’s comforting,” I said, hoping he heard my sarcasm. “Isn’t there any way to help him? What if I killed the witch?”

  Maveryck smiled, but I didn’t like the condescending look he gave me. “That’s one way to do it, I suppose. But I would advise against it.”

  “Why?”

  “She guards the entrance to the unknown lands. If she were to die, it would unleash exponential evil into our world.”

  Save Kull or release evil—honestly, releasing evil didn’t sound that bad.

  Heidel stirred beside Maveryck. She gave him a small smile when she opened her eyes. Was it just me, or did her cheeks look rosier than usual?

  “Where are we?” she asked as she sat up.

  “Nearing the Wultland border.”

  She cursed. “I hoped we’d be there by now.”

  Glancing out the windows, I found the Wult mountains looming in a hazy block of gray on the horizon. The jagged stretch of peaks extended from one end of the skyline to the other. I nuzzled into Kull’s shoulder as I waited for our journey to end. His clothes still retained that familiar scent of sandalwood that calmed my nerves better than any sort of magic.

  Hours later, the coach had crossed the mountains, and by mid-afternoon we’d finally arrived on the outskirts of the Wult capitol.

  The keep sat away from the Wult city, secluded by forests, mountains, and a deep lake of sapphire water. We disembarked the carriage, carrying what little gear we’d managed to salvage from our quest to the witch’s mountain, and made our way to the top of the hill where the Wult keep sat—an imposing structure of gray stone, soaring parapets, and red-and-gold flags that whipped back and forth in the breeze.

  “The flags are new,” I said as we trudged up the steep cobblestone path toward the keep’s open portcullis.

  “Yes,” Kull answered. “They only display the flags on special occasions.”

  From the towers’ tops came the call of trumpets. A crowd of people lined the road, some standing and others sitting on carts. Children skipped past us under the guarded eyes of their parents. A few people stopped to pay their respects to the king.

  “When will the procession start?” an older, redheaded boy asked us.

  “No idea,” Kull answered.

  We continued up the path and reached the castle gates. The guards recognized the king immediately, and an entourage of people clamored around him, crowding us and asking a million questions. Soon, I was separated from the rest of the group and ushered into a room where I was told to wait.

  A servant arrived with food and a change of clothing, and I was instructed to bathe and dress. The bathwater was lukewarm, so I made quick work of cleaning up and dressing in a dark blue frock with a white mantle. As soon as I was ready, I left the room, hoping to find my stepfather. Frantic servants hurried up and down hallways, but I managed to stop one of the women as she walked past with an armful of folded linens.

  “Sorry,” I said, “but do you know if the sky king has arrived?”

  “Aye, he’s down by the lake last I heard. Are you planning to speak with him?”

  “Yes, if I’m allowed.”

  “Ye’ll have to do it quick. The ceremony starts in an hour. Oh, and I’ve still got these bed clothes to be put in the guest chambers.” She bustled away, mumbling about the wedding preparations.

  I wandered through an unfamiliar part of the castle until I found a stairway leading up to the main hallway. With all the commotion, I lost track of where I was going until I became completely lost and finally found a door leading to a courtyard outside.

  On a slope behind the castle, I discovered white awnings had been erected, and beneath them were rows of tables piled with food. Wults sat and ate at the tables. Most of them drank mead and engaged in loud conversations. There were possibly more people outside than inside, and I was positive the entire Wult race had shown up for the wedding. I pushed past the bodies and finally found a trail leading down to the lake. Thankfully, there were no crowds on the trail, and I made my way down the path with the sounds of conversation fading behind me, replaced by the calming sound of waves lapping at the shoreline.

  The trees’ canopy shaded me from the sun, casting dappled sunlight on the leaf-strewn forest floor. Purple and green foliage fluttered in a gentle breeze, and I inhaled the scents of the forest—of fresh air that tasted of fall, with a hint of winter on the wind.

  I could hardly believe I was here and not trapped in the witch’s castle. Everything had happened so quickly, and escaping her had been a miracle. But were we truly free of her? Was Kull free of her?

  Just as I spotted the deep blue of the lake through the trees, I heard two voices I recognized and stopped. Kull and Fan’twar.

  “…several years since my father spoke of it.”

  “He was wise to tell you when he did. You know the implications of harboring such knowledge?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it’s something that weighs on me.”

  The conversation stalled. What were they talking about? I remained in the forest for a moment longer, but they didn’t speak any more, so I entered the clearing.

  Fan’twar lay curled on the shoreline, basking in the sun with his massive head resting on his tail. It reminded me of the way my cat perched on his spot on the couch.

  “Olive,” Kull said, hugging me to his chest as I stood by him. “I’m glad you found us. It’s madness back there. You’re smart to hide here with us.”

  “You two are hiding?”

  “For as long as we can. Until the others demand we return.”

  I turned to Fan’twar. “I’m surprised to find you here. Were you able to locate the sword?”

  He grunted. “No, I have come to learn that it cannot be found.”

  “What do you mean it can’t be found?”

  “It took a bit of research, but after tracking the sword’s history, I discovered it was taken by the druid Lucretian almost five hundred years ago. Neither he nor it have been seen since then.”

  Lucretian—how did I know that name?

  “He was the first High Druid, correct? The one who spoke the Deathbringer prophecy?”

  Fan’twar nodded.

  “How did you know that?” Kull asked.

  “Silvestra happened to mention it,” I answered.

  Kull’s face darkened at the mention of the witch.

  I turned back to Fan’twar. “Shouldn’t this be a good thing? Doesn’t it mean the elves won’t be able to find the sword?”

  “True, you are correct that it should be advantageous for our cause. However, I’ve also discovered the elves do not need the sword to bring Theht back to our world. They have already obtained five of the seven weapons, and they lack only the staff in order to summon the goddess. The sword is not necessary for the summoning—its use is for controlling Theht’s powers.”

  “Could they control her without it?” I asked.

  “It would be difficult, if not deadly, but I believe the elven queen would still attempt it.”

  My shoulders slumped. This wasn’t the news I wanted to hear.

  “I have to agree,” I said, “Euralysia is determined. I wouldn’t put it past her to attempt the summoning without the sword, even if it meant she couldn’t control the goddess and blew up half the planet in the process.”

  “But we still have the staff. That counts for something, doesn’t it?” Kull asked.

  “Yes. Without the staff, the elves are power
less to resurrect the goddess.”

  “Where is the staff now?” I asked.

  “In the keep,” Kull answered, “guarded at all times by thirty of my best men. There is no safer place in Faythander. The Wult stronghold has never been breached before, and it won’t happen now. I refuse to let it happen under my watch.”

  I turned to Fan’twar. “What should we do now?” I asked. “Do you believe we should confront the elves even though they don’t have the staff or the sword?”

  “No. Battling the elves at this point would not be worth our time. We must focus on guarding the staff, and I still believe it would be prudent to search for the sword. If the queen did manage to somehow summon the goddess, only the sword would have the ability to stop her.”

  “The sword has the ability to stop Theht?” I asked, surprised.

  “It has the ability to kill Theht, too,” Kull said.

  “How do you know that?”

  Kull’s gaze shifted around the clearing before he spoke. “Will you promise not to repeat what I tell you?”

  “Of course,” I answered. “You have my word.”

  What was with the cloak-and-dagger attitude? Kull wasn’t usually one who kept secrets.

  “I am the sword’s protector,” Kull said quietly.

  “You?” I asked, shocked. “But… how? And if that’s the case, then where is it?”

  He shook his head. “Even I don’t know, but my ancestors became the Madralorde sword’s protector long ago. They were approached by Lucretian, who came to this very keep and asked them to protect the sword. They did so for many years, until one day, he returned for the sword and took it away. He said the Wult king would forever be the sword’s keeper and told them that one day he would once again ask the king to take up the sword, and whoever wielded it would have the power to defeat Theht.”

  “Wow,” I said, trying to wrap my mind around it. “But even you don’t know where it is?”

  He shook his head.

  I pondered his words, recalling what I knew of the sword I’d once believed to be a myth. The only weapon more powerful than fate. The power to defeat Theht. It was almost impossible to believe, but if it were true, then it gave me more hope than I’d felt in a very long time. With Theht’s presence still a constant fixture in my consciousness, would finding the sword somehow help me to remove it?

  “If that’s true,” I said, “if Theht really can be defeated, then I think we should try to find it. What do we know of Lucretian?”

  “Not much. He was a mysterious man, to be sure. He lived with the Madralorde brothers at one point and was an advisor to them until things went sour and he left.”

  “The Faythander version of Merlin. Yes, I remember the stories,” I said with a sigh. I wasn’t sure where to start looking.

  “There is one who might know,” Fan’twar said hesitantly.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The elven queen.”

  “Hmm… I’m not sure she counts.”

  In the distance, from the castle, came the sound of trumpets.

  “Well,” Kull said, “the feast will be over if I don’t leave soon, and I’ll make the nobles mad if I don’t at least make an appearance. Olive, would you like to join me?”

  “Yes, I suppose. But can I have a few words with my stepfather?”

  “Of course. Meet me in the clearing near the castle. I shall save you a seat.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then walked away. After his footsteps disappeared, I turned to my stepfather.

  “Fan’twar,” I said, “Kull hasn’t been the same since we escaped the witch. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, but I suspect the witch did something to him. Do you think she hurt him?”

  He didn’t answer, which worried me.

  “Do you?” I repeated.

  “Olive, I am very sorry you were captured by the witch. I feel I put you and your companions in grave danger, and for that, I apologize. It was never my intention for you to be captured, or for the king to endure what he did.”

  “Do you know what she did to him?”

  “I know what she has done to others like him. It’s possible she altered his mind somehow and showed him visions, but I do not know any more than that.”

  “What sort of visions?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know.”

  “Can you fix him?”

  “No, those are not powers I possess.”

  “Is there anything that can be done for him?”

  “Yes, perhaps. You, Olive, may be just the person to help him. You have skills in restoring a healthy balance to those who have crossed worlds and forgotten their memories. Use your powers to help him, and you may be able to undo the witch’s curse.”

  I nodded, wishing I shared his optimism when it came to my abilities. Would Kull ever be the same?

  “If anyone can overcome the witch’s curse, it is him. You have picked a noble soul to spend your time with. I can see he makes you happy. Has he mentioned his intentions to you?”

  Intentions? I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at our turn in conversation.

  “Eh, no. He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about his intentions.”

  Fan’twar nodded, as if he knew something I didn’t.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I said nothing.”

  “No, but you gave me that look.”

  “What look?”

  “You know—that look. There, see? You’re doing it again.”

  He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made the pond water ripple.

  “Why are you laughing?” I asked.

  “No reason. You’d better go and enjoy the feast before the Wults eat it all.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Did Kull say something to you about his intentions?”

  “The Wults will have it all eaten soon if you do not make haste.”

  Eying him, I wanted to press the topic further, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. He’d never tell me. I turned away and marched up the path back to the festivities.

  Intentions? It made me nervous to consider what that could possibly mean. I had too much drama in my life to think of settling down, but still, if it were a possibility, I had to admit it made me happy. Then again, maybe I was overanalyzing the situation and hoping for too much. Kull had never once discussed marriage with me, and now with the witch meddling with his mind and the elves on the brink of controlling the world, I wasn’t sure he ever would.

  I made it back to the clearing and was relieved the crowd had thinned, making it easy for me to spot Kull sitting with a group of Wults. Brodnik, the boisterous, opinionated Wult who’d traveled with us many times, was the only person I recognized at the table with Kull.

  “Oy, Olive!” Brodnik called. “It’s about time you showed up. We’ve nearly got all the bones picked clean.”

  Kull smiled as I sat beside him, and then he passed me a plate of roasted boarhound and a hunk of dark brown bread. As I took a bite of the meat, I had to admit, the Wult chefs were beyond talented at preparing a meal. The meat was so tender it melted in my mouth.

  As I chewed, I noticed Brodnik had a chubby baby propped on his lap. He winced as the baby yanked his beard.

  “Oy, stop that pulling,” he said as he pried the baby’s hand open.

  “Is this your son?” I asked.

  “Nay, this is my grandson Björn. He’s my first grandchild.”

  “He’s cute.”

  The baby cooed as his grandpa held him. He had hair as red as his grandfather’s, two bottom teeth, and dimples that showed whenever he smiled.

  “How old is he?” I asked.

  “Nearly one year old come next week,” Brodnik answered.

  As I stared at Brodnik holding his grandson, it occurred to me that I’d never realized Brodnik had a family, but as I looked from one face to the other in the crowd sitting around us, with their red-gold hair and freckled noses, it hit me that not only did he have a family, but a large one.

&n
bsp; “How many kids do you have?” I asked him.

  “Nine,” he answered, “including two that have passed, may Odin bless their souls.”

  “Nine?”

  “Aye. Don’t act so surprised, Miss Olive. That’s an average family in our lands.”

  The baby started to cry, and Brodnik held him over his arm and patted the baby’s back, then quietly sang a lullaby as if he’d done this millions of times before. The baby quieted.

  Kull took my hand, and I glanced up at him. Did he intend to have a large family? If so, these were things I needed to know—there were many things I needed to know before he brought up the subject of his intentions. He’d told me before that there was much about Wult society I didn’t understand, and I believed him.

  The only way for me to learn more about Kull’s world was to be here, interacting and living day-to-day with the Wults. Attending the wedding would accomplish that much, but deep down, I knew I would never really become a Wult. That thought made my heart sink. No matter where I traveled or what planet I lived on, I would never fit in.

  Kull wrapped his arm around my shoulder as Brodnik continued his lullaby and the baby’s eyes closed.

  “Brodnik,” Kull said, “you have a way with children. You should have been a nursemaid.”

  “Aye, I won’t disagree with you on that one. I would have been perfectly happy to look after the children if I’d had my way, if there weren’t always wars to fight and bellies to be fed. Olga would have preferred I stayed home and tended the babies—that is, until the babies grew into young people. Then I would give them back to her. It’s the half-grown ones who cause all the trouble.”

  “I heard that,” said a gangly girl sitting beside him. His daughter, I assumed.

  From the castle’s towers came the sound of the trumpets, and a group of servants hurried outside and bustled around, collecting the empty trays of food and clearing the tables. As they did, Fan’twar entered the clearing and stood with a commanding presence. He held so still he looked like a golden statue.

  “Wedding’s about to start,” Brodnik said.

  After the food was cleared away, we turned our attention to the castle doors. Two men wearing official-looking uniforms propped the doors open, and then they unrolled a long rug decorated with white tree branches and golden unicorns. They carefully maneuvered the rug across the footbridge and over the grass until they stopped under a white wooden trellis.