At this, the rest of the men broke into quiet laughter.
“Why?” Benjamin opened one eye. “We’re about the same age. And I think she found me quite dashing when I won the contest. And I don’t care if she’s magic.”
“And I don’t care if she turns you into a bean.” Peter scowled. “I’ve heard the way you talk to women. I cringe to imagine the way you think about them. Just keep that mind of yours respectful, and I may not have to murder you myself before this quest is over.”
Benjamin muttered something about life being unfair, but he finally rolled over in his blanket and stopped speaking aloud, something Peter was immensely grateful for.
As the others began to put their suppers away and get ready for sleep as well, Peter stood and went back to his horse. Pulling two daggers from his pack, he tucked one into his boot and the other in his belt. Then he went out in search of Carey.
As usual, it wasn’t easy to find their silent watchman, especially with a lone torch in the dark of night. Peter had long ago stopped worrying that Carey would resent them for allowing him to take watch so often. Being alone and studying the world around him seemed to bring Carey more peace than any gathering. There were even times where Peter had fancied that the man might have some sort of magic in his blood, he was so good at tracking and watching for danger.
Tonight, however, Peter was not going to allow him complete silence. “Notice anything?” he asked when he finally found the knight halfway up a crooked tree.
Carey shook his head. “A whiff sometimes when the wind blows the right way. No more than any other night, though.” He glanced down at Peter’s waist. “Planning something on your own, sire?”
Peter nodded. “I fear I’ve been going about this the wrong way.” As annoying as Benjamin had been that evening, something he’d said about the waterfall had given Peter an idea.
“Do you wish for me to accompany you?”
Peter smiled back through the darkness. “That would be a great relief, but I’m afraid this is something I must do on my own.”
“Antony wouldn’t like it.”
“Fortunately for me, Antony is stuck at the castle with his injury.”
“Others won’t like it either.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m the prince.”
* * *
Peter moved through the wood as silently as he could, but it was difficult without even the gray light of day filtering through the trees. He carried a small torch with only the barest of embers lighting its end. Its illumination was very little, serving more as a makeshift weapon than a light.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here, he told Atharo. I can’t see. I’m in a cursed wood, and I feel as though a thousand eyes are trained on me. He paused to step over a log. I know I’ve been as good as faithless these last few years, but if you’re listening…
If Atharo was listening, then what? What did Peter want? What did he need? A miracle? Such seemed far too much to ask after the way his people had turned their backs...the way he had turned his back on his belief these last few years. If you’re listening, and if you haven’t counted the entirety of my forefathers’ sins against me, would you help me find the waterfall? If not for me, for Katy?
There was no answer, only the eerie echoes of distant howls, hisses, and clicks as he continued to walk. Peter gritted his teeth as something tickled his left ankle inside his boot, but he knew better than to lean over and take it off. At the beginning of the walk, he’d made the mistake of holding the torch inches from the ground, and though the embers gave off very little light, it was just enough to see the dozens of slimy, many-legged creatures wriggling across the ground and over his boots. He’d made sure to walk as quickly as possible after that.
How long he wandered, Peter couldn’t say. All he knew was that even through the distant canopy above, the night sky continued to grow blacker and the air around him colder and wetter. Even worse than the cold, however, was the desire to contemplate Katy’s last words to him the night before he’d gone.
I only ever knew one boy, Peter.
Did she mean what he thought she meant?
Before his mind could go any further down that road of thought, however, Peter shook his head and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. It wouldn’t do to get himself killed because he was distracted. Then Katy would be doomed whether she meant those words or not.
Just when he was about to give up and turn back, he spotted a dim glow in the distance. Praying it was indeed the waterfall and not some other power intent on repaying him for his ancestors’ mistakes, Peter edged forward until he could see the distinct hue of purple and just make out the faintest trickle of water in the air. As he ducked into the thicket, however, he was struck by the severe changes since the last time he’d seen her.
“What happened?” he murmured as he crouched at the pool’s edge. “You’ve barely any water left!” And not only was her water nearly gone, but the orb of light that had floated playfully just beneath the surface of the pool last time was nearly extinguished.
“No one lives forever, Prince.” She paused. “What took you so long?”
Peter bowed his head. “I apologize for bringing so many with me. I should have known you would wish for privacy.”
“Why? Only because my kind have been hunted by those knights for hundreds of years?” The melodic playfulness in the waterfall’s voice was gone. Now there was an edge to her words that Peter couldn’t quite discern.
“Again, I am sorry. And I don’t wish to continue bothering you, but—”
“You wish to know more about the girl.”
“I’ve been getting letters from some mysterious source...” He pulled the crumpled papers from his pocket and stared at them. “At this point, I don’t care who I have to talk to. I just need to know.”
The waterfall was silent for a long time, her mere trickle sometimes seeming as though it might stop completely. But finally, in an ancient voice, she spoke again. “What do you wish to know?”
“My father rescued her from—”
“Yes, yes. I know. She showed me. What do you want to know?”
Peter frowned. Katy had showed her? When was that? A shiver went up his spine, but he continued, determined not to waste this chance. “There is another olc in this wood. I know because I’ve seen him, and I’m decently sure he sent me these letters. Where can I find him?”
“You want to do what?” the waterfall hissed.
“I need to ask if he knows how to stop her manifestation.”
“Foolish boy! You act as though you wish to die.” Then she sighed. “Prince, I have done what I can. In fact, after this, I will be taken, just as you will be, eventually. But for the sake of the girl...” She paused. “He’s coming now, so listen! You must go to the lost village. They can tell you more about where he lives.”
“You mean you don’t—”
“I do not know where he lives! But he will find you eventually. And when he does, you mustn’t forget that you are different from the others! Your power, the one I first felt within you, is all that will save you. It is the only reason he has not taken you yet! He fears you!” she hissed.
Outside the thicket, the wind began to whistle, and despite the thicket’s sturdy walls, Peter felt his blood begin to tingle.
“He’s coming!” The waterfall began to weep. “I’ve betrayed him, and he’s coming for me!”
“Let me help!” Peter cried out, lifting his sword and torch once again.
“You can’t! Now you must go! Go! Go! Go!”
The waterfall’s cries rose to a scream that made Peter’s blood curdle. He gripped his weapons more tightly and took a step toward the entrance. He didn’t even reach the opening, however, before the entire thicket was torn to bits by gales of wind like those of a cyclone. Before Peter could duck, a flying branch hit him in the stomach. He was knocked into what should have been the waterfall, but by the time he hit the ground, the entire pool was dry.
The monstrous winds only blew harder as he tried to get up. His torch of embers was gone, and he’d only barely managed to hold on to his sword. He rolled onto his stomach, but the moment he was out of the little hole where the pool had been, he was flipped onto his back once again. The turn snapped his neck against the ground and a sharp pain at the back of his head made him cry out.
A burst of light above him, followed immediately by an explosion, sent branches of pain through his head, as though someone had loosed lightning inside him rather than above. The tingling sensation he’d felt earlier now pulsed through his body, and it was all he could do to keep breathing.
Large objects began to pelt him as the wind lifted them and let them fly. Not like this, Atharo! Please don’t let it end like this!
Then, as though someone was gently nudging him in the midst of the chaos, he recalled the words of the waterfall. Only then did it make sense. The tingling he felt all around him...it was magic! As was the power inside him. And according to the waterfall, he could be saved by nothing else.
Shaking with the effort, Peter raised his sword into the air. Then he paused. How did one drag up the magic inside oneself? Were there words to be uttered? Incantations to recite?
What could his magic even do?
The wind grew stronger, threatening to rip the sword from his hands. Peter gritted his teeth and held on tighter. Scrunching his eyes shut against the lightning that was flashing faster and faster around and above him, he reached down inside. Pressing every ounce of strength into his hands, he strained to let forth some hint of magic...some sort of anything that might stop the storm.
Instead of calming, however, the winds only screamed and raced about him even faster. Another bolt of lightning cracked above him, illuminating the night so he could see the boulder that was heading straight for him as it fell from the sky.
Without thinking, Peter raised his sword once more and waited, and for a fleeting moment, anger flashed through him. All he had ever wanted to do was save Katy, and this was how his quest was ending.
Well, he wasn’t going to go without some sort of fight. He kept his sword raised and squeezed his eyes shut.
But the death he was waiting for never came. Instead, the world around him shook. His wrist screamed with pain. His ears roared, and the ground continued to roll so violently it made him too dizzy to even open his eyes. The earthquake seemed to go on for hours.
Peter only dared to open his eyes when he felt a new pressure on his shoulder. The light of early morning made the forest just visible enough to make out the faces of his knights. Briant was standing above him and looked to be shouting something, but the roar in Peter’s ears drowned it out. Blinking hard, he looked around.
Despite his miraculous survival, there were plenty of reminders of his night, most importantly, the man-sized boulder that had been sliced in half, one half on each side of where he lay. The trees had been razed, leaving a clearing no less than forty feet wide on each side, and the ground was clear of every leaf, stick, and even the pine needles that had covered its surface the night before.
“Do we...the...forest...palace?”
Peter squinted at Tomas as the knight spoke in slow, exaggerated movements, his voice moving in and out with only a few distinguishable words.
“We’re not going back to the palace!” he called back.
Tomas rolled his eyes and grabbed a stick. He spent a moment scratching in the dirt. When he finally stood up and moved, Peter read his question.
Did you find what you were looking for?
Peter nodded. Before he could speak again, however, Domnhall was at his side, covering his ear with a hot rag that smelled strongly of wolderberries. If the lightning had made Peter’s ears hurt before, it was nothing compared to the pain of the wolderberry compress. But to Peter’s surprise, when the older knight finally pulled the rag away a few minutes later, his hearing was nearly restored.
“We need to go to Calmarid,” he said.
The others exchanged glances, but Domnhall froze, his hands halfway to Peter’s other ear. “Calmarid?” he whispered.
“Isn’t that just a story to scare children away from the woods?” Benjamin asked.
“The village,” Tomas said, still staring at Domnhall, “is said to be a vessel of poison. No one has rested eyes upon that place since...” He tilted his head at the older knight. “Weren’t you in that party?”
The older knight got a far off look in his eyes. Then he blinked several times, as though remembering where he was. “Sire,” he said in a low voice, “are you sure you must go there?”
Peter nodded. “I am. But I’m guessing that we have much to learn before we get there.”
“Yes,” the older knight whispered. “You do that.”
“Well then, you can tell us on the way.”
38
Not Ready
“Good morning, Katrin.”
Katy cringed then squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, refusing to get up off the floor. Her once-neat dress was now soiled and smelled just as strongly of mildew as did the rest of the cavernous dungeon, and it was by far just as damp.
Still, lying on the wet surface in the dark was preferable to facing Saraid’s taunting once again. And it made it slightly easier for her to ignore the burning in her hands and to focus instead on not killing the other woman.
“I thought we’d try something a bit more delicate this time.”
Katy could hear Saraid reach through the bars. Even worse, she could sense the crystalline object she had set on the floor behind Katy where she lay. Katy wanted to scream as it sat there, lovely, fragile, and begging to be destroyed.
“I’m not too fond of this one, so when you destroy it, I won’t be nearly as disappointed as I would have been if you’d destroyed that little bird yesterday.”
Katy drew in a steady breath through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. Saraid might not be able to feel it, but Katy could sense her power dancing in and out dangerously around them. As much as Saraid professed to know about olcs, the lady could have no inkling of how hard Katy was working to rein her power in and not let her darker side win. It also didn’t help that every day Saraid found a way to goad Katy, to push her closer to the inevitable cliff that lay ahead.
Where was Peter?
After a long stretch of Katy biting her tongue and praying to keep control over the fire within her, Saraid gave a little huff and stood.
“I must applaud your efforts,” she said in a voice that was void of its usual sarcasm. “But that doesn’t change who or what you are. Believe me, it’s nothing personal. I know you care for him.” Her voice dropped again. “Probably more than you want to admit. More than I wish you did. But that cannot stop your manifestation, as much as Peter may wish it.” She turned toward the door. “You should have left when you had the chance.” But to Katy’s dismay, she did not take the figurine.
Katy had just settled her heart back into a rhythm and was focused on counting its beats, when the door at the top of the stairs opened once again.
Do you wish for her to die? Katy asked Atharo desperately. I’m not sure I can resist much longer...Saraid had a way of making her feel ashamed that made concentrating on her powers especially difficult. But when she heard the voice that greeted her this time, she nearly lost her focus for the foolish joy and shame inside her heart.
“Lady Saraid.” Lady Muirin’s words were clipped and cold.
“Lady Muirin. May I ask what your business is down in these quarters?”
“I could ask the same of you. I could also ask whether or not the king knows about your little arrangement here with Antony.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Saraid said stiffly. “Now, I suggest that someone in your condition—”
“I may be with child, Saraid, but I’m not an idiot. You’re not the only one with eyes and ears in the palace. I think you’ve forgotten that you’re not queen yet, and that I’m still the
king’s favorite cousin.”
Katy wished desperately that she could see the heated exchange instead of just listening.
“Take care, Lady Muirin.” Saraid’s voice was no longer sweet or smooth. “In a little over a month, I will be queen. And then you may find that it is indeed possible to fall out of favor with the royal family, even if you are a part of it.”
“I know you lied to the king, and I know you lied to Peter.”
“They’ll never believe you.”
“Do you wish to put that to a test?” Lady Muirin’s voice was like steel. “If not, I suggest you let me through.” Lady Saraid said something unintelligible, but then Katy was able to make out fading footsteps, which she very much hoped were Saraid’s. Lady Muirin called out once more. “And for the sake of all that’s good, leave the door open for a few moments!”
“I’m afraid that’s against my orders, my lady,” the guard said.
“Well if you don’t, I’m going to be sick down here, thanks to the dreadful smell, and then I shall tell my cousin, the king, just how I was treated!”
Katy almost smiled as she imagined her lackluster guard becoming flustered at such a threat and scrambling to do as she said.
“Finally! I thought I would never get rid of them!” Lady Muirin’s footsteps were surprisingly light as she moved down the steps. And though the open door allowed much of Katy’s unspent power to escape in a wave, she didn’t dare relax. If keeping Saraid alive held any importance, protecting Lady Muirin and her unborn child was a thousand times more so. Katy wanted to groan as the woman neared her.
“Well, aren’t you happy to see me, Katrin?” Muirin chirped. “I brought you a fresh change of clothes and the closest thing I could get to a bath.” When Katy didn’t respond, she stopped hopping about and stood still. “Katy?”
“Can you move it, please?” Katy whimpered. Perhaps having the little figurine gone would at least provide one less temptation.
“Move what? Oh.” Her steps quickened until they were just outside her cell’s bars. “What is this here for?” Katy could hear the figurine’s scrape against the stone floor as Lady Muirin lifted it.
The Autumn Fairy (The Autumn Fairy Trilogy Book 1) Page 26