Silverwitch

by Tamara Grantham

  He shook his head, his eyes seeming to wander to a different time. “Something evil happened in that castle, although I do not know any more than that.”

  I tapped my fingers on the table as I mulled over his words. Fan’twar wasn’t easily spooked. What had happened in that castle?

  “In order for the summoning to work,” Fan’twar said as he took another slice of pizza, “the seven weapons will have to be restored, and the elves know this. One of the weapons—the staff of Zaladin—is now hidden in the vaults in the silverwitch’s castle.”

  Silvestra, the dragon silverwitch, was not one of my favorite people. I had only met her once, but with the amount of power she wielded, once had been enough. She had taken Kull’s sword in exchange for our passage to the top of her mountain—a deal that still bothered me.

  “Do the elves know the witch has the staff?”

  “I am sure they must know it by now, and they have successfully stolen from Silvestra in the past, which makes it only a matter of time before they attempt to steal from her again. We cannot let this happen. You control the magic of both Earth and Fairy World. The witch controls dragon and black magic. Technically speaking, you are equals, which means you have the ability to beat her.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m very confused. You want me to beat her? Why can’t you?”

  His gaze wandered, and he shook his head. “It would not be possible.”

  “Is it because of a dragon code of honor or something?”

  “No.”

  I crossed my arms. “Then why?”

  He sighed. “It is best for me to keep my distance from the dragon, for there are other dealings that must be handled. Already the elven queen seeks out the Madralorde sword. Of all the weapons, the sword is the most powerful. I cannot allow the elven queen to find it, and so I must make sure the sword stays protected. That is why I have come to you. I must try to find the sword, so you must remove the staff of Zaladin from the dragon’s castle.”

  “Can it be done?”

  “Yes. I have faith in your abilities.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.” I stared out the window at the cars driving by and people walking past, wondering how it was that I always got myself into these situations.

  “I’m not so sure I should. For one thing, my magic is still unstable. A man came for a spellcasting today, and while he’s never been to Faythander, I can’t rule out the possibility that my magic is interfering with the spell. What happens when I confront the silverwitch?”

  “I never asked you to confront her.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?”

  He took a sip of his drink, then carefully replaced his glass on the table. “I want you to steal from her.”

  “Steal?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do realize I have no experience in thievery whatsoever.”

  “I do not expect you to do it alone. In fact, I have employed one of Faythander’s most successful thieves to assist you.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Indeed I am not joking. He waits for you now in the Wult outpost near Dragon Spine Mountain.”

  Someone please shoot me now.

  “So, who is this thief?”

  “His name is Maveryck, and he has been waiting in the Wult village for several days. I believe he was monitoring some riots that he thought to take advantage of. I’m not sure of the details, but he has been planning something else there at the inn. You should have no trouble finding him.”

  “That’s if I choose to do this. You’ve never worked with thieves before. Why now?”

  “Because I would much rather steal from the dragon than confront her directly. After our quest to Dragon Spine’s peak, I can imagine that dealing with her again would be impossible. You must have faith in your abilities, for you are now in a position to do much good with the powers you have honed.”

  My powers. I still hadn’t told him what Theht had done to me while she’d held me captive in the cave. She’d intruded on my mind, altered me, but I still wasn’t sure of the extent of the damage. It didn’t matter though. She’d shown me a vision of me destroying the world, and although I had trouble accepting it, I knew deep inside that it was true. I was the Deathbringer, and it was only a matter of time before my magic became so volatile I could no longer control it.

  “Olive,” Fan’twar said, “we were all surprised when you so suddenly left Faythander to return to Earth Kingdom. It seemed abrupt, to say the least, and it not only confused me but also troubled the Wult king most acutely.”

  I glanced at my hands, not sure how to answer.

  “I do not wish to pry into what happened to you in the cave with Theht, or what other pains you may have experienced throughout your life. You were abandoned by both of your birth parents, which has resulted in some emotional trauma.”

  “Emotional trauma? If you’re suggesting that’s why I left, then you’re wrong. I left Faythander because I had things that needed attention here on Earth.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  I gave him a sharp look. “Yes.”

  He eyed me. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  I hoped he heard the warning in my voice. This was a subject I would not discuss.

  “Very well. As I said, I do not wish to pry.”

  I took a deep breath. Being angry with Fan’twar would solve none of my problems. Besides, he was making a big deal out of nothing. I fully intended to return to Faythander, although I had wanted to take care of a few more things before I went back. Life never cooperated. If he was suggesting I had issues, then he was wrong. Absolutely wrong.

  We left the restaurant and returned to my apartment. The wind picked up, making the November day turn chilly. Fan’twar made a few comments on the weather as we crossed the parking lot back to my building. Just as on Faythander, his golden eyes shone brightly in the sunlight.

  “Have I offended you?” Fan’twar asked. “I’ve never mastered the art of human interactions, I’m afraid.”

  “No. I’m not offended. Disappointed, maybe. Balancing my lives on Earth and Faythander hasn’t been easy. Sometimes I feel like two different people.”

  “Yes, the feeling is quite understandable.”

  A breeze blew past, whipping the dark reddish strands of my hair against my cheeks. My short-cropped hair accentuated my elven ears instead of hiding them, which drew stares at times, but I’d learned to embrace my differences. Yet, being from two worlds didn’t always go as smoothly as I would have liked.

  When we made it up to my door, I turned to my stepfather.

  “Fan’twar,” I asked, “do you believe I will destroy the world?”

  He paused before answering, his golden eyes focused on me. “I am more afraid that you will sacrifice your life to save it. Do not worry over these things. Life has a way of working itself out, and all the time you spend worrying about the future would be better spent in enjoying the present.”

  I sighed, trying to agree with him. “I’m not sure how much I’ll have to enjoy while I’m stealing from a dragon’s hoard with the possibility of being eaten alive looming over my head.”

  “You’ve got a good point. I do not envy you in this quest, but it is something that must be done. I would not ask it of you if I did not have the utmost faith in your abilities. Take care, young one, and do not confront the silverwitch directly, or else I fear the consequences will be dire.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And…” a hint of a smile crossed his face, “do try to have fun. You may find there is still sport to be had in Faythander, if one knows where to find it.”

  I eyed him. Sport was a dangerous word for a dragon to use.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing in particular.” He smiled and stepped away. “I must leave you now and return through my own portal back to Faythander. I have much to attend to.”
<
br />   He abruptly turned on his heel and descended the stairs, leaving me alone on the landing. I watched him exit the staircase and start across the parking lot, his shock of white hair contrasting with the asphalt. He’d never been good with good-byes—typical dragon behavior. It should have bothered me, I guess, but since I’d lived half my life with him, I’d become used to it.

  However, I was curious about the sport he’d mentioned. Did he have some convoluted idea to cheer me up? Because if he did, I wanted no part of it.

  I went inside my apartment and shut the door behind me. Leaning against the wall, I stared at my worn sofa with Han curled into an indistinguishable gray ball atop one of the cushions. Closing my eyes, I wished I could stay here forever and never be bothered with Faythander again. As long as I was on Earth, there was no chance I could destroy Faythander and no chance I could hurt Kull. But now, with the elves attempting to harness the power of ancient weapons of mass destruction, I had no choice. I had to return.

  After hastily grabbing my backpack, I started stuffing things inside. Hairbrush, toothpaste, some clothes, and the journal Fan’twar had given me. Maybe if I had a chance to learn more about the brothers of Tremulac, I’d be more capable of stopping the elven queen.

  I crossed to the kitchen and opened the bottom cabinet, intending to scoop out some cat food and leave it for Han, when I found myself sitting on my butt and staring blankly at the bag of dry kitty kibbles. I wanted to see Kull again, didn’t I? If so, then why did I have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? I hugged my arms around my knees. Because I’m afraid of the future, I admitted to myself.

  Brushing the thought aside, I filled Han’s bowl, gave him a scratch on his head as he rushed to the food, and opened my mirror box. Blue magic sparkled around the laptop’s casing and silver screen. I ran my fingers over the five figurines, feeling the details in the pewter. Keeping my pack close, I placed my palm against the mirror’s surface.

  Ready or not, Faythander, here I come.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I walked through the Wult village as I fought a growing headache. Crossing worlds had taken its toll on me, and although the portals were functioning properly again, my magic was not. It had taken a great deal of energy just to open the portal, and now I had a blooming headache and sour stomach as a result.

  The village hadn’t changed much since I’d been here a week ago. The Dragon Spine’s mountain range loomed along the horizon, its peaks tinted purple in the rising sun. Two- and three-story houses with thatched roofs sat crowded around a town square, where a cobbled path and large water fountain took up the center of the space.

  The smell of wood smoke filled the air as tendrils of gray and white rose from chimneys. From a distance came the sounds of laughter and shouting, though there were no people on the streets. I paced cautiously through the village. Where was everyone? And more importantly, where was the inn Fan’twar had spoken of?

  My boots echoed through the empty lanes as I focused on voices coming from up ahead. I followed the sounds, passing through the town square and onto a narrow path, and finally, I found the town’s only inn—a large stone building, sitting at the end of the lane. People were gathered on the wide front porch, and children dressed in bright woolen sweaters darted through the crowd.

  I stopped walking to stare at the building. Fan’twar’s sense of humor got me into trouble sometimes, and I had a feeling that something was going on at the inn—something his clairvoyance had led me toward. I wasn’t sure I was going to like it. Whatever the case, I knew I had to go to the inn to find the thief, but I just hoped I didn’t find anything else in the process. Like too much drama. Fan’twar knew how much I hated drama.

  I wandered through the crowd and up the front steps, making my way through the open double doors and into a large room. The room’s walls, floor, and ceiling were crafted of deep-stained wooden timbers that smelled of rich resin. Tables and chairs took up most of the floor. Bodies were packed inside, all focused on a man standing atop a table at the back of the room. He stood in front of an enormous stone fireplace. Firelight flickered off his tanned face and dark hair, and his voice carried through the room, booming with a deep resonance that commanded attention. His clothing, made of animal hides and a fur cloak, suggested a wild appearance, yet something about his stance and the intelligence in his dark eyes gave me pause.

  “Now is the time to act!” he shouted. “We’ve no more need of a king. Ours is an age of freedom and prosperity. How are we to live as long as our taxes go to a king we’ve never seen—a man who lives on the other side of the continent?

  “He is a man who has never taken interest in our villages or helped us in any way at all. He fights wars that happen so far away they’ll never have any effect on our lives! But that is not the only reason. It is rumored that he has lost the sword of his ancestors—the very sword that is a symbol of our kingdom, of our heritage, and of our nobility. We are a fierce, proud people. This is a new age. I say it is time we elect our leaders. We should choose people from our own villages who know our struggles. The time has come to overthrow the king!”

  Shouts and cheers filled the room. As I studied those gathered, I noticed that not all of them looked thrilled with the idea of overthrowing the king, yet the majority cheered.

  “I’ve heard the king is not fit to rule!” someone shouted.

  “He’s gone mad!” came another shout.

  “He doesn’t care about us!” more voices chimed in.

  “But what do we do about it, Euric? Do you have a solution?”

  “Yes,” the man on the table—Euric, I assumed—yelled. “Which is why we must act now.” He pulled a rolled parchment from a pocket in his cloak. “This is a petition informing the king that we’re no longer loyal to him. We’ll not be sending another coin in taxes to him ever again. Give me your signatures, and we’ll gain our freedom!”

  Cheers and whistles exploded through the room, though I got the impression that Euric had worked them up so much they would have agreed to sign away their lives. I studied the man standing on the table. People with the ability to rally a crowd to their whims were dangerous.

  The cheers abruptly stopped, and I had to scan the crowd to see what had quieted them.

  A man wearing a blue cloak and cowl walked inside, his footfalls thumping over the wooden floorboards. His clothing looked expensive—a dark green vest with silver buckles, and tall leather boots that looked as if they belonged in an elven court. Although his face was partially hidden by the cowl, I could tell he had a strong jaw and thick, seductive lips. He wore his brunette hair in a ponytail slung over his shoulder, and he had a lean, muscle-corded frame. The cloak whipped behind him as he walked toward the table. Although he stood of average height, his presence demanded attention.

  A doglike creature with silver fur trotted beside him. I wasn’t sure what to call the creature, except it looked like a mix of grimwelt and wolf, although there were no wolves on Faythander—and certainly no mixed Earth-and-Faythander breeds. The animal puzzled me. It stayed at its master’s heels as he crossed the room, growling if anyone got too close.

  “Who is that?” someone whispered.

  “I’m not sure.”

  The man stopped at the table’s edge, and although Euric stood over him, he visibly shrank.

  “Who… who are you?” Euric asked.

  “My name is not important.” The stranger’s silken voice carried an elvish accent. “I’ve come to challenge you in a duel of the sword. Will you accept?”

  “A duel?” The man stood straighter. “For what reason?”

  “To defend the king.”

  “I see. In that case, you should know that you will lose. I’ve never lost a fight.”

  “Never lost a fight? That is difficult to believe. How many fights have you fought?”

  That drew a snicker from the crowd.

  “More than you, I assure you.”

  “If t
hat is so, then you should not hesitate to duel with me.”

  Euric crossed his arms. “Who are you?”

  The dog growled, and the stranger snapped his fingers, quieting it. “As I’ve said, my name is unimportant. Will you accept my challenge?”

  “First, tell me, what is at stake?”

  “If I win, you destroy that scroll and vow to pledge allegiance to your king. If you win, you continue forward with your plans.”

  “I refuse. It is not a fair trade. I will still go forward with my plans whether or not you challenge me.”

  “Yet you have claimed to have never lost a fight. Winning a friendly duel will only serve to aid your cause even more, won’t it?”

  “I fail to see how.”

  “You claimed to be a member of a fierce, noble people. Perhaps it is time you proved it.”

  “Yes, show him, Euric! Beat him!”

  Euric leapt off the table, landing mere inches from the cloaked man’s face. “Very well.” He held up the scroll. “If I shall sign my name in blood, then so be it!”

  This only goaded the crowd more as they cheered the two men into the street. I followed the crowd outside onto the sun-drenched paving stones where the two men prepared to fight.

  The gathering parted to form an empty, open area where the two men circled one another. The man in the cloak unsheathed an uncommonly sturdy-looking dueling blade with a delicate, wire pommel. It was an odd weapon, full of contrast, and I wasn’t sure I had ever seen one like it. As he removed his cloak, I was surprised to find that his ears were rounded, although I could have sworn the man was elven. He placed his cloak atop the porch where his dog waited patiently, guarding the garment with its life.

  Euric had no weapon and found one among the crowd. I wasn’t a weapons expert, yet even I could see the nameless stranger held his sword as if he were accustomed to dueling, with a straight back and balanced stance.

  As the two men prepared to fight, I scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who seemed roguish or seedy, someone who would fit the description of a thief. At this point, it could have been anyone, even someone who didn’t fit the stereotype, and, as I turned to watch the fight, I had a suspicion I knew who it might be.