The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  Chapter 7

  “I HAVE FOUND evidence that the Yafir are indeed also known as the wicked ones, my lord,” Cinnia began. “They were banished several thousand years ago from Belmair, but whether they went or not is the question.”

  “Why were they exiled?” Kaliq wanted to know.

  “No reason was given, but as I have explained to Dillon the reason would not have been important for our historians. The king declared it so, and therefore that would be all the explanation needed, for the king’s word is law in Belmair,” Cinnia explained.

  “So all we know is that the Yafir existed, were here in Belmair and were banished because the king wanted it.” The Shadow Prince was intrigued. “And there is no proof that they either remained or departed?”

  “None that we can find,” Cinnia said.

  “Exactly when did young women begin to disappear?” Kaliq asked her.

  “About a thousand years ago, but it was not particularly noticeable until about three hundred years ago when they began disappearing in greater numbers, and now in the last hundred years it has escalated to the point where there aren’t enough females born to serve as mothers to the next generation, which means our population is shrinking. At first the girls taken were sixteen and older. Now they disappear as young as twelve.”

  “You need to learn if the Yafir are still here,” Cirillo said.

  “You are faerie, Uncle,” Dillon remarked. “Could you not ferret them out so we might speak with them? Perhaps if we could learn why they are stealing these females we might be able to stop the practice.”

  “I could try to find them,” Cirillo agreed. “The question is where to begin.”

  “Can they be called forth?” Kaliq considered slowly. “Let me think a minute to see if I can remember the hierarchy of the Yafir so we may call their leader to us.”

  “Without a name?” Cirillo said. “We need the power of name magic to reach out to them. You know that, Kaliq. Without a name the quest is hopeless.”

  “I may have a way,” the great Shadow Prince said. “I must leave you briefly, but I will be back by sunset,” he promised, and hurried from the chamber. He sought out a deep shadow, and stepping into it stepped back out in his own palace of Shunnar. He was in his private chamber. Going to a cabinet, he took out a beautiful carved metal bowl and set it upon a pale wood table. Reaching for an earthenware pitcher that was filled with water, Kaliq poured it slowly and carefully into the metal bowl. He waited for the surface of the water to calm and clear. When it had he looked down into it, and said, “Satordi, lord of the Munin, come to me.”

  The water in the basin darkened, and then the surface became as luminous as a mirror. It reflected a long gray face that looked up at the Shadow Prince. “Greetings, Kaliq of the Shadows,” Satordi said. “It has been some time since you have called upon the Munin for aid. How may I serve you?”

  “I need the name of a Yafir high lord who hides himself in Belmair,” Kaliq said.

  “An interesting request,” Satordi remarked. “Were the Yafir not sent from Belmair aeons ago? Those are memories that I know are kept by my brothers and me.”

  “Exiled, aye, but whether they went is another thing entirely. Do you retain memories past the time of their exile?” Kaliq inquired.

  The Munin lord thought long and carefully. “We have no real record of them after Belmair,” he noted. He grew silent again, probing the collective memory banks of his race. “An occasional snippet of passion, a bit of revelry, but nothing to indicate where they are or why we do not have their discarded memories, my lord Kaliq.”

  “You, or one of your brothers, will have among the memories you keep the name of the high lord of the Yafir from that time. If he was not an ancient then it is probable that he still holds that office, for the Yafir like most of the faerie races live very long lives. Find that name for me, Satordi. Find it quickly!”

  “I shall return to you within the hour,” the Munin lord said, and his visage vanished from the surface of the water in the basin.

  Kaliq sat down in a large, comfortable chair, leaning back to rest his dark head, easing the ache in the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. He knew instinctively without being told that the Yafir had not left Belmair. But until he had a name to call forth it would be difficult to learn much more than that. The scent of Damask roses drifted in from his gardens on the warm air. It surrounded him, teasing at his nostrils and lulling him into a light sleep. He sat up fully awake when he realized that the Munin lord had returned. He walked over to the table and gazed down into the carved metal basin as Satordi’s face appeared to him.

  “The name you seek is Ahura Mazda,” the Munin lord told him. “He had only been high lord of the Yafir for fifty years when they were told to leave Belmair. He is likely to still be their leader for the memories we retain of him are of a young and vibrant man, stubborn, proud and oft times difficult. Is there anything else?”

  “Nay, there is not,” Kaliq replied. “I thank you and your brothers, Satordi.”

  “To serve you, great Shadow Prince, is our pleasure,” the Munin lord responded, and then he faded away in the waters of the reflecting bowl.

  Kaliq moved away from the table and back into the shadows of the chamber. He stepped out again into the room where Dillon, Cinnia, Cirillo and the dragon had been.

  They were awaiting him.

  “You went to the Munin,” Dillon said.

  Kaliq smiled. “Aye, and I have the name we seek. It is Ahura Mazda. Now, Cirillo, it is up to you to fashion a spell that will bring this Yafir to us.”

  “You and Dillon must create reinforcing spells for my magic,” the faerie prince said. “The Yafir are fairly resistant to the magic of others. They will try to repel my spell with their own so we will all have to work together.”

  “And Cinnia and I can help,” Nidhug said.

  “My dear dragon,” Cirillo told her, “this is serious and strong magic we must use. Your magic is not potent enough, I fear. Let us handle this task.”

  “It is not beyond my magic,” Nidhug replied, “to turn you into a warty toad, if even briefly, for alas I am only a weak female, oh prince of the Forest Faeries.”

  “I will be grateful to have you and Cinnia using your magic to protect ours,” Dillon said to the dragon. “We are going to need all the help we can muster.”

  “Agreed,” Kaliq replied. “Work your summoning spell now, Cirillo. This Yafir must respond to you because you are both of the faerie race.”

  With a little shrug and a charming smile directed to Cinnia and the dragon the faerie prince spoke. “Ahura Mazda, heed me well. A prince of faeries weaves this spell. Come to me from where you abide. From my voice you cannot hide.”

  “What prince of faeries calls my name?” a disembodied voice asked.

  “Show yourself,” Cirillo said.

  “You did not request that I show myself. You only asked for my presence,” the voice told him smugly.

  “Are you so ugly then that you hide yourself from us?” Cirillo demanded to know.

  “You have my name, now give me yours,” the voice insisted.

  “I am Cirillo, the son of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, and her heir. These others are Kaliq, the great Shadow Lord, Dillon his son, the new king of Belmair, and…”

  “I know the girl,” the voice told them. “Cinnia, daughter of Fflergant. He is dead then? And how did a Hetarian gai
n the throne of Belmair. Is it legal?”

  “No more answers to your questions until you reveal yourself, Ahura Mazda,” Cirillo said firmly.

  The Yafir high lord uncloaked himself. He was tall and slender, with eyes the color of an aquamarine and hair that was silvery-white. He was handsome in a cold way. “Very well, Cirillo of the Forest Faeries, you see me.” He was garbed all in different shades of blue with just a twinkle of gold here and there.

  “Fflergant is gone, and Dillon of Shunnar rules in Belmair now. Cinnia is his queen,” Cirillo told the Yafir.

  “What do you want of me?” Ahura Mazda asked.

  “I have brought you here,” Cirillo said. “Now let the young king, who is my nephew, and his queen ask the questions of you that they must.” He turned to Dillon and Cinnia with a small nod.

  “Let me welcome you to our castle, high lord of the Yafir,” Dillon began. “May I offer you in hospitality a goblet of wine?”

  Ahura Mazda nodded, an amused smile upon his lips. “I will accept your hospitality, king of Belmair,” he said. “How is it that you are related to Prince Cirillo?”

  “He is my mother’s younger brother,” Dillon answered.

  “And your father?” the Yafir asked.

  “Kaliq of the Shadows who stands in this chamber with you,” Dillon said.

  Ahura Mazda’s pale, almost invisible eyebrow was raised in surprise. But recovering, he remarked, “Then you are magic.”

  “I am magic,” Dillon agreed, and handed the Yafir a goblet of wine that appeared suddenly in his hand, creating one for himself, as well, and sipping at it.

  The Yafir nodded. “Of course.”

  “Let us sit, and you will tell me why you did not leave Belmair when you were banished all those centuries ago by Napier IX.” He led his guest to a settee where Cinnia and the two men sat down. Kaliq, Cirillo and Nidhug remained standing, at the ready.

  “How do you know the Yafir were exiled?” he asked, curious. “Was not the hidden chamber closed and destroyed shortly after you entered it?”

  “The guardian was not able to prevent us from obtaining some of the books,” Cinnia said. “And those combined with some of Belmair’s most ancient texts helped us to learn of you, and that you were ordered away.” Cinnia paused and then she asked him, “Why did the king turn on you, my lord? And when he had, why did you not leave?”

  “Ah, you Belmairans,” Ahura Mazda said, his tone tinged with scorn. “You are so tractable. We did not depart Belmair because we did not want to leave it. For centuries we have been driven from one world to another, called the troublemakers of the faerie races. All we wished was to share this world with you, but that fusty Napier IX insisted that we must leave Belmair. He accused us of everything he could think of, and then said we were no longer welcome here, and must go. Go where? There was nowhere left for us to go. So we did not. We hid ourselves away in this world, indeed beneath your very noses. Only magic could bring us into the light.”

  “You are welcome to remain,” Dillon said. “We ask only one thing of you.”

  “And what is that?” Ahura Mazda wanted to know.

  “Stop stealing the young women of this world, high lord of the Yafir,” Dillon responded. “Their families weep for their loss, and those you have returned come back old, and have no knowledge of what has happened to them since you stole them away. Their pain at those lost years is so great that most died within days of their return.”

  “We need your women,” Ahura Mazda said. “Do not be selfish like Napier IX was when he ruled, oh king of Belmair.”

  “Why do you need the young women of Belmair?” Kaliq of the Shadows now asked, interjecting himself into the conversation.

  “Because most of our Yafir women are dead,” Ahura Mazda said. “We cannot survive as a faerie race without children. In return for our faerie blessings we asked that Belmair give us one hundred young women of childbearing age each year. It was not many, and Belmair had plenty of young women to spare. But Napier IX said no. He said he would not deliver Belmair’s pure and innocent maidens into the hands of the Yafir to be despoiled and ravaged. The old fool! Our men wanted wives. They wanted women to bear our children. They were eager and ready to love them. But Belmair’s king said no. And then he told us to leave your world. Instead we took the women we wanted when we wanted, and we hid ourselves away from your general population.”

  “So you have stolen these maidens for wives,” Cinnia said quietly. “But if you rebuilt your population why was it necessary to keep stealing women?”

  “Your mortal women birthed more sons than daughters,” Ahura Mazda said. “We had no choice but to keep stealing women for our men,” he explained.

  “Why did you not apply to the other faerie races throughout the Cosmos for wives?” Cirillo asked the high lord.

  Ahura Mazda laughed a bitter laugh. “Would your queen have sent me a dozen faerie women as brides had I asked her?” he said. “Would any other of the faerie kings or queens? You all know the answer to that. The Yafir are scorned, and always have been.”

  “You cannot keep taking our women,” Dillon said. “There are not enough now to marry the Belmairan men who want wives themselves. You will destroy us if you keep taking our women, Ahura Mazda.”

  “Then we shall take your world for our own,” the high lord said. “And never again shall we be driven away. Belmair shall be ours. We can wait.” And then he surprised them further by disappearing in a puff of scarlet smoke.

  “I can force him back,” Cirillo said.

  “Do not bother,” Kaliq replied. “We have learned what we need to know. Now we must take steps to prevent the further chaos that Ahura Mazda wishes to stir up.”

  “And how are we to do that?” Cinnia wanted to know.

  “Well,” Kaliq said, “the first thing we must do is figure out how the Yafir steal your females. We should learn where they have hidden themselves. And we must create a protection spell for all of Belmair’s remaining young women.”

  “Now that the Yafir knows we are aware of them,” Dillon said, “will they not be more dangerous? Ahura Mazda appears to me to be ruthless and determined.”

  “We can destroy him and his kind,” Cirillo said coldly. “The Yafir have ever been difficult. They are the most mercurial and untrustworthy of the faerie races.”

  “I felt rather sorry for him,” Dillon told his uncle. “If Napier IX had simply cooperated with the Yafir none of this would have happened. I don’t want them destroyed. I want to see if we can heal this breach and live in peace with them.”

  “Hah!” Cirillo replied. “Thus speaks that tiny bit of mortal blood within you, Nephew. One must deal with one’s enemies decisively or suffer at their hands.”

  “I think you are too quick to judge, Uncle,” Dillon said. “I will grant you that they are the most mercurial among the faerie races, but what makes them untrustworthy?”

  Cirillo shrugged. “I don’t know, but they are. Everyone among our kind says it.”

  Dillon laughed. “And everyone said I was the son of Vartan.”

  Kaliq chuckled. “Belmair is Dillon’s domain now,” he said in a quiet voice. “He must decide what he will do about the Yafir, Cirillo. And it is our duty to help him. If he is wrong we will know soon enough, and can rethink this problem. For now we need a strong protection spell for the young women of Belmair.”

  “I will send out messengers to all the duchies seeking information as to how th
e women are stolen,” Dillon said. “I do not know how much help that will be to us, but perhaps it will give us a better idea of how to protect them while we devise a spell.”

  “I will take your message to each of the dukes myself,” Nidhug said. “If I carry the king’s word it will be taken more seriously, especially as I shall go in my full size. I am always extremely impressive full-sized.”

  “I need to return home to work in my own apothecary if I am to create a perfect spell. And perhaps my mother can make a suggestion or two if I ask her,” Cirillo said.

  “If she learns what you are doing,” Dillon teased his young uncle, “she will make suggestions whether you ask her or not.”

  “Be careful, Nephew, that I do not tell my sister that you need her,” Cirillo taunted Dillon back. “Lara has not visited you yet, has she? I’m sure she is dying to come, and just waiting for the right moment.” And then he was gone in a puff of purple smoke.

  “If Cirillo doesn’t need my help,” the young king said, grinning at his uncle’s departure, “perhaps I shall go with Nidhug. If both the king and Belmair’s guardian arrive in each duchy to tell its dukes what has happened then the matter will be taken most seriously. What think you, Cinnia?”

  “I think it is an excellent idea,” Cinnia agreed. “You will also by going do honor to Dukes Tullio, Alban and Dreng. They will not forget such a courtesy. Yes, go, my husband. We will not allow the Yafir to destroy us so they may have Belmair for themselves. I am, like you, willing to share our world, but I will not be driven from it.”

  “Well spoken, Cinnia,” Kaliq told her. “And now, my children, I will leave you, too, for you do not need my services quite yet. I will return with Cirillo when he has successfully formulated his protection spell. Shall I bring Lara with me then, Dillon?”