“I cannot thank you enough.” Othila clasped Lia’s hands into her own. “Forgive me, but I had to wait until after your charm was complete to tell you, for only magic from an untroubled heart could ever inspire new life.”
Prickles of warning ran up Lia’s spine. “Tell me what?”
Othila continued, “My husband is a good ruler, who wishes only to protect his clan, but Schorl claims his loyalty and he’s convinced him to keep you here. Schorl plans to use your connection to the stone, force you to wield magic in order to gain power over the other clans, even the High King. That is until he figures out a way to sever the stone’s bond from you and take it for himself.”
Panic gripped Lia. “I must get to Wynn. How do we escape? Can Gobann help us or Laguz—?”
Othila help up her hand to quiet Lia. “I’ve made arrangements. But I’m sorry to tell you, Laguz has been banished. Schorl sent him to our isolation caves, though he’s sure to bring him back soon. Crystalography is a treasurered skill after all.”
Schorl’s the one who should be thrown in those caves!
“Othila, you must find a way to get word to Laguz. He was right—the crystals’ enchantment wanes. Dark powers consume Brume’s fog.”
“We’ve wondered as much,” she said. “That fog was meant to remain a labyrinth, a maze to fool the traveler, assuring he always ended up right back where he started, never harmed, never killed, for we truly are a peaceful race.”
Her eyes met Lia’s. “It was your kinswoman who told Haegl that people died in the fog, and that she gained special passage by bringing gifts to its guards. Her friends, she called them. Our scout knew nothing of deaths or guards, figured something had gone terribly wrong, and pressed her for more, but she fled from him scared. She eluded him from then on, as did your kinsman, for they mostly stayed within the boundaries of the fae meadow where we dwarfs do not cross.”
A light tapping on the door jolted Lia from Othila’s words. Wynn and Gobann slipped inside the room, and relief swept through Lia.
Othila stood. “Is everyone in place?”
“Aye, M’Lady, they’re all headed t’the meeting room now, ’specting your guards t’bring our guests down shortly. They’ll be mighty surprised when they don’t show.”
“I’ll handle them; you just get our friends back safe.” Othila turned her eyes on Lia and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You, my dear, shall be fondly remembered.”
“And you as well,” Lia replied.
With those parting words, Lia and Wynn followed Gobann out the door. The clanking of dishes and the low hum of voices carried from the dining hall, and Gobann rushed them across the tunnel and through a stout door.
“Stay close and quiet,” Gobann said.
They hurried through a series of passages, some lit by torches, others so dark they had to link hands. Despite the chilled air, sweat beaded across Lia’s brow. All their hopes hung beyond the walls of the icy caverns.
They ran for what seemed like an eternity through the tunnels with only the sounds of their labored breath accompanying them. Lia kept glancing back for signs of pursuit. When they turned down a hall where voices echoed, Gobann ushered them into a dark chamber.
“Miners,” Gobann uttered when the passage grew silent again. “’Tis all that’s down in these parts. ’Fraid I had t’take you the long way round, else we’d never make it without being seen.”
The dwarf scout waved them on, moving deftly through the shadows like a lynx. The walls turned slick with water and puddles covered the ground. The knocking of miners’ picks grew and Lia’s heart drummed in answer. She trudged through the dark and dared to think of soil and sky.
She chanted to herself, “Almost there,” scurrying through tunnel after tunnel, with hammers echoing through her ears, thoughts pounding in her head, until they were once again running through Duir’s Run, and back in the green foothills of Brume.
“Here we are, back in the lowlands.” Gobann drew back his woolen hood. “You’ve plenty o’time t’run. Othila’s a clever one; she’ll have them fooled for a while t’be sure. You’ve the night on your side, and once you head upriver and get across, they’ll not follow. Dwarfs aren’t much for riding boats or beasts and we can’t swim worth a lick.”
Wynn reached his hand out and patted Gobann on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping us.”
“’Tis a shame it didn’t work out better. Guess I ’spected too much, lowly scout and all. Sorry I couldn’t get you that new sword, young warrior, but I be thinking you’re probably better off with the one you got.” Gobann winked.
The dwarf shifted his eyes onto Lia and she warmed in the pools of kindness. “Many thanks, Gobann. I know you meant well, and if you hadn’t taken us in, I wouldn’t have learned what the crystal could do.”
“Ah, you would have figur’d it out eventually. You’ve the touch. Oh, almost forgot this for the lad.” Gobann pulled back his cloak to reveal the shield charmed by Lia’s stone. It sparkled under the moonlight, the wingless dragon ethereal on its front. “A right shield t’match your sword. Laguz made sure you got it. That lindwyrm’ll keep you safe.”
Wynn’s face lit up, his eyes roving across the etching. “Lindwyrm?”
“Lindwyrm dragon. Their kind live deep in the mountain caves. Only saw one m’whole life, skin pale as bone and eyes like fire opals. But like with any drake, you never get too friendly.”
Gobann donned his cloak. “One more thing before I get on, a swig or two of the silver waters is all right, but ’tis best not t’fish from the Seren River. Enchanted waters poured straight from the heart o’Brume. Life’s special, sacred within them. Farewell to you now.”
“Wait, what about our horses?” Lia blurted.
Gobann let out a chuckle. “Almost forgot.”
He whistled loudly and after a few moments, the ivory horse galloped up the hill, followed by Merrie and Nolan. Gypsum walked to Gobann’s side. The dwarf murmured something into her ear, and then he turned back to Lia and Wynn. “She’ll guide you upriver to the Coll grove. Farewell friends.”
“Farewell,” Lia and Wynn said in unison, and Gobann disappeared back into Duir’s Run.
“So we’re headed to a Coll grove?” Wynn asked, stroking Nolan’s muzzle.
“Yes, hazel trees.” Lia rubbed her face against Merrie’s soft coat, breathing in the familiar smell. Some of the knots unraveled within her. “It’ll take us the rest of the night to get there. We can cross the river at sunrise.”
She mounted Merrie and imparted a farewell to the Duir tree. She’d always admire its magic portal, though she was much relieved to be leaving it. “You were right all along, Wynn. We could have been trapped in those caves forever—”
“We’re back, we’re all right, and you learned how to wield your stone.” He smiled. “And I’ve a sword and shield like no other.”
She gave him a nod and they sped up the hills, putting plenty of distance between themselves and the dwarfs’ doorway into the valleyland before they slowed their pace. A clear night sky stretched overhead and the swollen moon offered a beacon to light their way.
“Easy, boy,” Wynn soothed, trying to keep Nolan from nipping at Gypsum’s backside. “For a gelding, he’s certainly taken by her.”
“Hmm,” Lia agreed. The strange horse cantered in silence, featherlike across the terrain. Her silken tail nearly swept the ground and her coat shined in pearly perfection. She was a beast unlike any from Nemetona or possibly anywhere else but Brume.
Wynn steadied Nolan’s pace to match Merrie’s. “What happened between you and the chief’s wife?”
“Would you believe she asked me to use the stone on her womb? Guess dwarfs have a bit of trouble making younglings. The strangest part, though, was I think it worked.”
“Huh. Explains why she was so helpful.”
“I will always be grateful for her kindness, for Gobann’s help, and for all that Laguz taught me.” Lia folded her hand around her pouch. The quartz within
warmed to her touch, ready to do her bidding.
“Yeah,” Wynn replied. “Those three helped offset that vermin, Schorl, and his puppet chief. Especially Laguz. My da’s going to swallow his pipe when he sees my new blade.”
Thoughts about all that had happened inside the dwarfs’ caves wove like ribbons through Lia’s mind. Her discoveries were priceless, even the frightening ones. The most disturbing revelation was the dark fate of Brume’s fog. Like a beast crawling with mites, it suffered an infestation of shades. To what end they devoured the veil was a mystery, but one thing was certain: the shades would continue to grow in power and tear to shreds anyone in their way.
Unless the great crystals’ magic returned to full power. But how?
Her thoughts shifted to another nagging discovery: the crest embroidered on Grandma’s cloak. As much as she reasoned that the design was the fanciful stitchings of an old mountain widow, she couldn’t shake the certainty in Haegl’s voice. And if it was a fanciful adornment, then why did Grandma hide it by wearing the mantle inside out?
Like the horses’ footfalls up the steepening terrain, Lia’s thoughts never ceased. After hours of travel, her head hung in weariness and her stomach grumbled. Keep going, keep moving, she commanded herself, but the growing rush of streams beckoned to her and she finally gave in to her body. “Wynn, let’s stop for a rest, catch some food.”
Wynn hesitated. “All right, we’ve covered enough ground for now.”
They heeded Gobann’s warning, making sure the stream ran from the opposite direction of the Seren River. Lia retrieved two of Kelven’s carved spears, handing one to Wynn. They edged the stream and Lia peered into the bubbling waters.
“Wish we had that undine faery to corral us some fish,” Lia said.
“Don’t need her!” Wynn drew up a healthy trout. “Barely saw the thing, jabbed down once, and there it was. Look at the size of him.”
Lia gaped at it. Before she could reply, Wynn speared a second fish. “Did you see that? That trout came out of the water, like it wanted me to spear it.” He continued stalking the stream and within minutes skewered five trout in total.
Lia cleaned the fish, perplexed by their speedy capture, while Wynn built a fire. He gathered firewood from the blanket of golden gorse, or Onn shrubs, covering the highlands. The low shrubs provided a windbreak and their wood burned fiercely hot.
As Lia strung the last trout, she spotted a trail of gold on the water. It rippled by her like a strand of thread. What magic is this? The stream didn’t flow from the Seren River, and the trail shone gold rather than silver besides, but magic of some sort created it.
A luminescent glow caught the corner of Lia’s eye. She peered upstream to its source and froze in shock. Gypsum’s muzzle aimed down to the stream’s edge. A beacon of gold light protruded from her forehead to pierce the waters below.
“She’s a unicorn!”
Wynn scrambled from the fire and gawked at Gypsum. “A unicorn? But I don’t see a horn.”
Gypsum tossed her head, fixed her indigo eyes on Lia, and then pranced toward Merrie and Nolan.
Lia could barely speak. “Her horn reached into the stream … a spiral of gold.”
“Here let me take those.” Wynn grabbed hold of the strung fish nearly falling from Lia’s hand. “Guess it wasn’t my fishing skills that got us all this trout. Sure wish I could see her horn, but then I don’t have your special sight.”
“No, it’s not because of special sight, Wynn; it’s because of my maidenhood.” Lia sucked in cool air before reciting a verse from the Grimoire,
Unicorn of silver sheen,
Pure as winter’s snow;
By maiden’s eyes you can be seen,
Under a moon’s midnight glow.
Wynn gave her an awkward grin. Then his brow rose at Nolan’s frolicking close to Gypsum. “Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance. Though, I can’t blame him for trying.”
Lia noticed that even Merrie edged closer to the unicorn.
Lia’s stomach grumbled and she returned her focus to the fish. She seasoned them with thyme and sage, and then fried them to a succulent finish. She rubbed the last of their vegetables with the same herbs and skewered them over the flames. Warmed by food and fire, Lia and Wynn allowed themselves a moment’s rest.
“Let’s see, faeries, a rock giant, ballybogs, dwarfs, and now a unicorn,” Wynn said. “Kinda makes you wonder what’s next.”
“I’d say Brume’s a bit more than deadly sea cliffs and barren knife-edged mountains,” Lia said. “Never could understand how our rulers got away with imposing that notion. None of them ever came through the fog. And the people go along with it.”
“It’s simple, really. Not many rulers want to share power with the unknown, or even worse, compete with a bunch of legends. So they cleverly explain them away, force their will through laws and punishment, until everyone follows their word.”
“Just like Schorl, only interested in his own personal gain.” Lia used her fingers to comb through her hair. “Figured it’d be different with dwarf rulers.”
“Power is power. But it turned out all right. Like you said, you learned about your stone.” Wynn gathered up their dishes and headed toward the stream to rinse them.
Lia grabbed her knapsack and began tossing items out. She sorted through the pouches, setting some aside and returning others, until she sat before an organized collection.
“What are you doing?” Wynn asked, returning to the fire.
“For the elixir. The riddle calls for three parts herb. Here’s lion’s tooth, grass of goose, and after some thought, I’ve decided on quitch grass. It cleans the blood and soothes the insides.” Lia laid the plant parts out in order. “There’s two parts tree, so here’s the Nion and Saille, and a snippet of golden bough.”
“You’ve almost got it,” Wynn said. “Six plants and you said yourself that you’re a maiden. That makes seven out of thirteen parts. What’s left?”
“The enemy—a plant of a different nature.” A chill crawled up Lia’s back at the thought of harvesting a piece of the Straif. “Then four things I don’t know yet: alicorn, Brume’s blood, mother, and crone. Thanks to Laguz I figured out the sentry stone part.” Lia pulled out her quartz pouch and dangled it gently.
“Ah, makes sense,” Wynn said. “But I never would have thought it were those big old rocks holding up that wall of fog. Guess I shouldn’t call them rocks anymore.”
“Lady Othila told me the fog was enchanted to be a maze, always leading the traveler out from where they came in.”
“A maze, huh?” Wynn’s brow rose.
“The Scalach shades changed all of that when the crystals’ power weakened from neglect. The shades’ claim on Brume’s fog is getting stronger, and I hate to think what will happen if they gain complete control of it.”
“Hmm, I guess even the strongest magic needs upkeep.” Wynn nudged closer to the fire. “Maybe everyone should start paying attention to Rockberg’s crystals.”
Lia agreed, though she doubted the best showerings of attention would bring back the level of magic they needed in time. Like a hole in a fence, the Straif had found an opening in the fog, and it was perhaps the first of many.
“You know the way I see it,” Wynn said, “is if you’re the maiden, then mother and crone must be your elder women kin.”
Lia shifted her thoughts back to the elixir. “Well, that would mean my ma, but what about the crone? There’s no one to fill her role. It sounds right, but I hope you’re wrong.”
She tossed the herbs back into her knapsack, her mood turning grim. She forced back the tears that threatened. More than eight days had passed since Da’s attack, and six days since the Straif attacked Granda. Even with Ebrill’s herbs, they suffered while she and Wynn grappled with the riddles of Brume.
“I thought this would help,” Lia said. “But it only proves how slim our chances are of carrying it all out. If even one of the thirteen ingredients is missing, the magic of t
he elixir won’t take. And aside from a missing crone and deciphering the other parts, we still have to face the Straif.”
Wynn let out his breath. “Well, we’re not defenseless. You’ve got the quartz and I’ve got my blade and shield. In fact, why not put your little stone to work now? Maybe it can answer some questions.”
Lia chewed on her lip. She’d commanded the stone with Laguz and used it to help Othila, but her confidence wavered now that she was away from the dwarfs. Wynn seated himself cross-legged in front her and gave her an encouraging pat. “Just try,” he said.
She opened her pouch and tumbled the stone into her palm. The quartz warmed in her hand. Laguz believed in her in ability to wield the quartz, as did all of the dwarfs, even Schorl. Grandma wielded the amber on her own.
It’s my turn to take charge of my talisman.
She closed her eyes and focused her mind, connecting, searching, until a fiery heat spread through her. The magic tugged at her, like a rope pulling deep within her belly, drawing from her energy to kindle its power.
Ohhh.
She sucked in air, as if she’d sprinted up a hill. The dwarfs’ stone-mage energies must’ve offset the draw from her body. Perhaps the nearby quartz towers helped feed the little stone. Whatever the reason, she’d have to be careful not to exert herself overmuch while she connected to the magic.
She opened her eyes to a bright light, like an upside down triangle resting on her palm. A stream of images poured into the light: her grandparents harvesting herbs, then back in time to their wedding, and further back to when Grandma dwelt in the Bronach Mountains. The images came too fast. Lia wished to linger with each one, but the magic had a more important purpose.
The vision flashed to Rockberg where the crystals shot out cords of light, like arms stretched toward the wall of fog, holding it even as their power waned. A chill ran through Lia’s bones. Numerous dark figures prowled the fog like bloodthirsty sharks. Even in the vision, the Scalach shades filled her with dread.
The images spun on and Lia flinched at the sound of a woman’s scream. At the edge of the fog in a cool pine, or Ailm forest, huddled a woman with a crown of red hair. Her crumpled body shook violently on the ground, her moans of agony echoing through the murk. The woman clawed at her naked, swollen belly. She scratched into her woad-dyed flesh, turning the blue tattoos to purple. All at once, the raging river within her burst free, and from the fierce and fatal gush of blood, mewled the thin cry of a babe.