by Viola Grace
“What happened here?” She crouched and touched the soft silt.
“I don’t know. It could have been a curse, a natural disaster, or the Deep, but something pulled all the magic from this area, from the very stone itself.”
“Have you spoken to the native population?”
“I have. They have no objection to your occupation of this dead land. They might come to ask questions if anything odd occurs, but they do not claim this land. It is neither part of their people, nor their traditions.”
“Well, that is something.” She chuckled. “Where is the nearest habitation?”
“The tribal collective is twenty miles to the west.”
“Nothing closer?”
“No. This is a very remote location, perfect for your experiments.”
She looked at Emory. “You say it like I am going to continue with this once I have what I need.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you? You seem so alive when you are mixing and grinding.”
She snorted. “You have only known me for a few days. I have a lot more in my plans for my life than endless rounds in the workshop.”
He crouched next to her. “Like what?”
“Learning, drawing, designing some clothes. Learning more about the Deep and the hedge fey.”
“So, you really believe you are one of them?”
She sighed and looked out at the empty landscape. “I suspect my mother was, and the diagnostic spell seems to have strong indications in that vein.”
“Have you met any others?”
“Hedge fey? Not that I know of. Mind you, my mother didn’t advertise it, so it is very possible that one of them came to the village, and I didn’t know what they were.” She paused. “Have you?”
He shrugged. “Once or twice. They tend to stay in small family groups and avoid dragons as well as humans.”
“Why?”
“You would have to ask them, but I believe it may have something to do with their breeding issues.”
“What breeding issues?”
“If they don’t mate with another of their kind, their child is born to the spouse’s species with those genes being dominant. The women give themselves completely to bearing their lover’s child. If they are a good match, she will be able to have others, but if they are not, her body will become resistant to her lover and reject the possibility of another child.”
“Wow. You sure know a lot. That is some very specific information.”
He shrugged. “I once had a friend who loved a fey, she loved him, and their child grew up to be a great man who was simply that, a man. He was human, he died, and his mother’s heart broke, but she remained with her love until he passed, and then, she gave herself back to the earth. Normally, she would have lived for hundreds of years, but her mother mourned her, her sisters, brothers, and her father all moved to the area where she had placed herself before joining the soil, and when plants sprouted, they harvested them, collected the seeds, and planted the new species.”
“So, one day, my mother...” She stood up. “My mother. Damnit. I have to go back to the village. I need to know if my mother was cremated or not.”
Emory nodded. “Right. You stay here. I will go and ask.” He paused. “What do I do if she hasn’t been laid to rest?”
She blinked. “It has been two weeks, so she should have been, but if her body is available, bring her to me.”
He looked around and grumbled. “You will remain safe?”
“I promise. Where is Teymor?”
“He has returned to his people. You have evolved beyond standard monitoring.”
She straightened. “What does that mean?”
He grinned and flexed his fingers. “It means you are on your own. Now, don’t look. I want my other form kept a secret.”
He flicked his fingers toward her, and a mask of black wrapped around her face. She pulled at the strangely sticky stuff with the familiar scent. There was a loud rustling, and she felt feathers touch her wrist, but by the time she had gotten the mask away from her eyes, he was nearly gone. A small writhing speck of darkness in the afternoon sky was all that was left of Emory.
She huffed and continued her exploration of the territory that she was gradually accepting as her own. It was all she could do to keep herself occupied. The spell was in process, her bodyguard was gone. There was nothing to do but learn every rock, bump, and pile of silt.
Chapter Six
Having tea with Yutin was an excellent way to unwind. When the Deep had emerged en masse, the sun was crimson, and they were laughing.
“So, you like the layout of your new home?” Yutin smiled as they watched the stove and cooler being placed.
“I do. I can’t thank you enough for doing all this.”
“You have already paid us for any efforts that we have put forward.”
“Yes, Althu told me that folks are getting frisky.”
Yutin chuckled. “We have enough energy to procreate, so all bonded couples are trying.”
“I don’t know how that works.”
Yutin’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “When a man and a woman want to make a child—”
Zzara’s hand shot up. “I know that part. I mean the storing up enough energy for the next generation.”
“Ah. Well, we give our all to our children, and a woman without enough energy of her own cannot bring a healthy and strong child into the world.”
“Oh. Right. I have even seen that in humans. I could sometimes boost the women at delivery but not always. They needed too much, and I was a child.” She scrubbed her hand over her face.
“Sometimes, too much is asked of us too soon. You did not let it get the better of you, though.”
“My mother helped me through it. She told me that killing myself to save someone was not an obligation. It was a choice she hoped I would never have to make. Whew. That is depressing. Now, how do your people grow all of those magic ingredients underground?”
“Practice. We use the silty soil of Horcross and add compost, a mineral mix, and a lot of attention. It is an ancient recipe that has always enabled us to earn enough for our keep.”
“Right. I am going to have to find something for my own upkeep. I have my savings, but there is always room for more. I have no idea what my lifespan could be. I could live two hundred years or drop dead in twenty. No clue.” Zzara sighed and looked around. “This is a nice place to spend my time. However long it will be.”
Yutin was slightly surprised. “You don’t expect to live long?”
“I have stopped expecting anything. I was reading one of my books earlier, and something appeared that I hadn’t seen before. There was once one of my kind that was murdered for something called dividing the blood. He was considered too dangerous to keep alive, even if his blood was worth a fortune.”
“We could check our archive. We have many documents that the mages or dragons would never keep. Would you like to go now? We can be down there and back before dinner.”
“Sure. Won’t it take a while for us to find what we need?”
Yutin got to her feet. “No, the archivist is already on it. I speak for them; they hear through me.”
“Handy.”
They left the house and walked toward the entrance to the Deep’s village. Yutin muttered. “Less handy when having sex.”
Zzara’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh. That would be emotionally uncomfortable.”
“Yes, especially if I wasn’t particularly pleased by the experience.”
“You have sex if you don’t want to?”
“No, but not all couplings move the earth. Some start as a tremor and then fade to nothing.”
“Isn’t that pointless?”
Yutin led her through wide tunnels and past members of her clan who smiled as they passed. “No. There is always a point to pursuing pleasure. You just might not always catch it.”
Zzara looked over the alcoves that formed rooms, and none of them had
any solid doors. A flap of leather was all that created a privacy blind. There was an efficiency to it. Yutin told her about the low-level connection that all of the Deep had with one another and how they could use that for privacy or defense.
By the time they made it to the archive, Zzara had been informed of the history, the potential, and the plans that the Deep had. When they got to the archive, her head was spinning.
It was a relief to open the scrolls on blood splitting or dividing the blood, and have Yutin read them.
After the hour of short translations, Zzara really needed a cup of tea. She didn’t know that she could do that, she didn’t want to try, but if the right occasion raised its head, she knew she would. There was a locked in finality to her when she learned of it as if one final skill that she had been lacking had now been put on display for her. She had been shown her potential, it was now up to her to reach it, but reaching that high was going to take a lot of nerve and a helluva catalyst.
Yutin nodded. “So, that was interesting.”
They were walking back to the surface.
“Yeah, I especially like the little diagram of one being and then two different ones where the original had been.”
“And the skill works with so many species.” Yutin chuckled.
“But not humans or fey. Just the shifters.”
“Well, they are the largest component of magic-based beings in the world. If not for this continent, they would have been wiped out, but they thrived.”
“When in doubt, run like hell.”
Yutin chuckled. “Something like that.”
They emerged into the evening air, and Zzara looked at the gathering of the Deep near the workshop. “What is that?”
“He found your mother.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she walked with halting steps toward the gathering. The dark fey moved away from her as she stepped toward the wrapped figure lying on the ground.
“Did you excavate her?”
Emory was next to the body, and he murmured, “No. They had her in storage. She is cold.”
Zzara swallowed and knelt next to her mother’s head, pulling at the wrapping until the familiar face and spill of crimson hair were visible. “Hey, Mom. You wouldn’t believe what I have been up to.”
She chuckled and wiped a tear from her eye. “Right. We need to get you somewhere with a bit more dignity.”
She looked at the dark fey surrounding her. “Where would you recommend I put her?”
They looked at each other, and Yutin stepped forward. “She is your mother. You pick the spot. We have minimal interest in the surface world.”
“Right. Of course. Can you help me to dig when I choose a spot?”
Yutin swallowed and blinked. “Of course.”
Zzara lifted her mother in her arms and stood.
Emory murmured. “I can carry her if you like.”
“No. She and I are good.”
She thought about where she wanted her mother to be and smiled, walking to the far edge of her own home, about fifteen feet from the outer limits of the dwelling beneath.
“This way, I can watch out for the plant and see you when you bloom.”
She looked over at Yutin. “Here, please.”
Silently, thirty of the dark fey gathered, and they started to dig. They didn’t bump into each other, and it showed that their link together was strong.
Zzara stood with Emory at her side, and she waited for a place to keep her mother safe as the stars moved overhead. If her people returned to the soil, that is what was going to happen.
Yutin and the Deep stepped aside. “It is ready, Zzara.”
Zzara walked toward the grave and hopped into it with her burden in her arms. The wrap wasn’t natural, and she didn’t want it on her mother as she went to her final rest.
Zzara took her blade out, and she sliced at the wrap to release her mother. They had done an autopsy, but the stitched incision was something Zzara was prepared for. The small charm that was pressed to her mother’s abdomen was different. She flipped it up and out of the grave, continuing to cut until the pale skin glowed in the dimming moonlight.
The shreds of material were also thrown skyward, and Emory caught it.
Zzara folded her mother’s hands over her chest, kissed her forehead, and said the goodbye that she hadn’t been able to say the first time.
“Emory, can you give me a hand?”
He leaned over and extended his arms. She clasped his forearms, and he pulled her up and out of the hole.
She sighed and looked at one of the mounds of silt. With a grunt, she shoved it forward, and her mother’s face was covered. She went around the hole, pushing and slowly concealing the form that had once been so alive and vibrant.
When she collapsed and sobbed, the Deep came forward and finished filling in the pit.
The completed burial had taken them nearly to dawn. Yutin came over, pressed her shoulder, and said, “We will see you at sundown.”
She nodded and swallowed. Words weren’t going to come out of her raw throat.
Emory stood next to her as the sun came up. It was his quiet and reassuring presence that helped her brace herself for the rest of the day. It was not going to be an easy set of tasks laid out before her.
She knelt at the graveside for another two hours before she nodded and got to her feet, wobbling a little. “Right. I need a quick nap, and then, I have to change clothes and call my scepter.”
He seemed surprised. “Why?”
“Because that charm was a tracking charm, and they will be here in about four hours, possibly more. It activated when I touched it.”
Emory blinked. “I didn’t know that’s what it was. I thought it was a piece of jewellery.”
She snorted. “My mom didn’t wear any. Can I see it?”
He handed it to her. The wadded, shining fabric was in his other hand.
She examined the charm and nodded. “Interesting glyph and weird that it is metal, but ah. I get it now.”
She turned it around, and there were blades sticking out. “It is trying to take my blood.”
“How did you manage to avoid it?”
“They wanted to cut me, ergo it was an attack, and so my protections have kicked in.” She groaned. “I am going to have to deal with him, but I do need a nap.”
“Him?”
“My father. He has always been after money and power. Now that I have been exposed as a very desirable commodity, he suddenly wants to claim me. Well, he wants to claim my power and broker me. Well, it isn’t him, but it is his mother. I don’t think my father has much ambition at all. He simply does as he is told if it is to his benefit.”
Emory walked with her as she started for her door. “You would not be upset if he passed on?”
She thought about it. “I might. I don’t know. But I do know that we can’t continue as we are. It is far too dangerous.”
He walked her to her door, and he left her, mentioning that he would dispose of the artificial fabric.
Zzara walked to her bedroom, scrubbed her hands, and washed her face before lying down in her bed, fully clothed. She had to remain in her feathery garb, she was having guests in a few hours.
Chapter Seven
There was a feeling of pressure on her mind when she woke, the slight ripple through the ring of pebbles she had set around the perimeter of Horcross early the day before. Not every ward was complicated. Sometimes a line of stones placed with intent could warn of incoming visitors.
She found her camping food in the chiller, had a sandwich, and grabbed a glass of water. She wouldn’t be able to do much if she didn’t manage to take care of herself.
When her food was done, she walked out to the workshop to check on her spell.
A new monitor was on duty.
“Hello.”
He inclined his head. “Madam dragon. Your spell has turned a liquid crimson.”
She walked over and looked at the bowl. It had reduced by a thi
rd. “Right on schedule.”
Zzara looked up at the man calmly kneeling on the counter, in the daywear of the Deep. “What is your name?”
“Thobin.”
“Do your people volunteer, or are you assigned to this?”
He chuckled. “We volunteer. The seeders are busy with next season’s crop, so for the rest of us, there is not much to do.”
“Good. There might be a bit of a ruckus outside today. Just don’t be distracted.”
“My only task is this today.” He inclined his head and kept his gaze on the colour shift in the bowl. “I will remain at my station for the next four hours until my shift replacement arrives.”
Zzara nodded. “Thank you. Things are going to get a little noisy, but I am going to keep them away from the workshop.”
“Do you need me to summon the mage?”
“No. She doesn’t need to be involved. Consequences and results are completely on me today. Thank you for your service.” She bowed to him, and then, she headed outside. Her guests had nearly arrived.
When she was outside the workshop, she carefully closed the door and made sure that the wards were in place. It might not stop her father, but it would stop those that were with him.
She looked at the incoming dragons and sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t come alone. Not even to face his daughter.
Emory emerged from wherever it was that he was when he wasn’t at her side. “Would you like my help?”
“Please. I can deal with my father, but the others are free for you to play with.”
He chuckled. “Excellent.”
She paused. “You can take them on, can’t you?”
He lifted one of her hands to his lips and pressed a quick kiss. “Yes, yes, I can.”
Zzara was a little surprised, but she turned to watch the dragons thud to a landing and stomp toward her.
She looked at the dark figure walking toward her, and she waited while the muddy green, grey, and dirty red dragons formed up behind him.