“Lee, what are you doing?”
“This tree is enchanted, turned baneful like the Straif and the Eadha cauldron. It must be set free.” She slid from Merrie’s back and crept to the base of the tree. She ran her fingers over the gray ridges of the Ruis wood, sensing how the spell had emptied the tree of its true life force. Then she reached up to the berries dangling above. Tainted fruit, filled with the darkness of Draugyrd. She plucked a small cluster of the fruit and removed them from their lacy stems.
Her chest burned from the heat of her quartz and urgent whispers emanated from Grandma Myrna’s spirit.
“It’s all right, Grandma. I know what I’m doing.”
Lia closed her eyes, pushed beyond her sorrow, and remembered a time when she picked elderberries with Granda. Each autumn they took the ripest of the bitter berries and dried them for eating or mixed them in honey to make syrups. Her mouth watered with the memory of mounds of flat cakes smothered in the liquid delight. The villagers eagerly awaited the fare, buying it up faster than she and Granda Luis could pour it into jars. Ma made sweet jams, muffins, and pies, their market value rivaling her soaps.
Lia clung to the cherished memories, drew up her hand, and promptly dropped the elderberries into her mouth. Their juice tasted surprisingly sweet. A voice came from the depths of the tree then. “Thank you for honoring me.” The Ruis exhaled with a great tremble before its tortured existence ended.
Lia’s head swam, but a sense of peace filled her. Soft light surrounded her and the ground disappeared into nothingness. She lingered in a realm of quiet bliss, as if floating amid the clouds. So, this is death …
Her eyes flew open to the eerie caw of a rook—an enormous bird of good omen. The oily black bird flapped its wings and took flight from the Ruis tree’s altered crown. Lia found her feet and stumbled in awe at the tree’s transformation. Like a skeleton, it stood white as bone. Even the leaves and berries hung in alabaster stillness.
A warm hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned. Wynn peered at her. “Lee?”
“It’s free now. No more suffering in limbo, no more fruits filled with Draugyrd’s poison,” she whispered. “I followed its spirit, just for a moment, into the Otherworld.”
Wynn’s brow drew together. “Are you all right; how do you feel?”
“Oddly relaxed,” she said, marveling at her new sensations. Her body still ached, but the harsher pains had vanished. Her eyesight had also intensified. She blinked in wonder. Every hue of color, every essence of plant life, sparkled like gemstones. Her enhanced vision captured auras radiating from every tree in the grove. A gift from the Otherworld.
Wynn shook his head. “You were aglow in a strange blue light. It poured from you like a water fountain into the tree. Then all at once, the tree shot out sparks and turned completely white. And so did you.”
Lia’s eyes fell to her powder-white hands. “Is it … just my hands, arms?”
Wynn’s silence gave her the answer she dreaded. She reached for his shield and stared at her reflection. Her skin resembled the pale bark of a Beth tree, and her eyes had darkened to the hue of an evergreen. She pressed her lips together and released his shield.
So be it, she thought. A glimpse of death, a moment in the Otherworld, had paled her flesh and deepened her sight. Like all her ventures through Brume, she had come away forever changed. And resignation took root within her.
“The blue you saw was a memory, a happy time with Granda cooking up Ruis berries.” She met Wynn’s eyes. “I knew at once how to break the Ruis spell, even while Grandma warned me. You were able to hear Grandma’s spirit, though you’d never had the gift of ghost speak before. We must’ve drawn a bit of magic into ourselves when we used our weapons together.”
Wynn shrugged. “Nothing would surprise me now.”
Lia’s heart squeezed and she lifted her eyes to him. “Wynn, Granda’s—”
“I already know,” he said, his eyes growing moist. “I heard your cry.”
Lia’s stomach tightened. He’d heard her cries over Granda’s death while he lay strangled and helpless in the arms of the Straif. She placed her hand on his arm and swallowed down the torrent that threatened to flow.
They rode from the grove and edged the Seren River. On its bank, the Idho stretched its arms against a dimming sky. Its reddish bark curved under a crown of needles, and knotholes framed a massive hollow. The opening spanned large enough for the tallest man or beast to enter.
Lia slid off Merrie’s back and walked toward the ancient tree. She reached her mind out to it, but her thoughts broke at the sound of howlish barking. She knew this bark. As she stepped toward the hollow, a shag of white spilled forth, and Koun found his way in her arms. His milky fur smelled of dust and home, and she hugged her hound with all her might.
“Koun,” Lia murmured. The hound nuzzled against her and Lia squeezed his great bulk.
Wynn blinked in surprise. “How in ruddy spades?”
“He’s come to me again through an Idho, like when I first found him in the hollowed tree back in the Bryns.”
Lia held his white muzzle between her hands and peered into his eyes—pools of pure violet. “Just like Ebrill’s. How did I miss it? You’re a fae hound.”
“Fae?” Wynn’s eyes widened. “Koun’s a faery?”
“I’ve heard only one fable about them,” Lia said. “Fae hounds cross over from the Otherworld, like fateful messengers between the two realms. Koun must have known about Draugyrd, so he came into our world to help.”
“Then why didn’t he follow us into Brume, help us fight?”
Lia paused in thought. “Granda wanted him to stay back. He must’ve known what Koun was, must’ve known his gifts were better served in the village.”
Koun’s whine drew their focus, and they followed his eager trot toward the Idho. They stepped into the tree’s hollow, leading the horses behind them. A subtle orange glow rippled across the inner wood. Wynn held out his sword like a torch to blaze their way.
“Can you feel anything, Lee?” Wynn said. “I mean, can you feel how this tree works? Didn’t Gobann say it was like a bridge?”
Lia stilled. She kept one hand on Koun’s shaggy backside and placed the other on the Idho. She reached out her mind and her thoughts whirled with the tree’s memories. Glimpses of its beginnings, thousands of years ago, flashed before her mind’s eye.
Ancient groves and meadows spanned the landscape then, and the plantlife was linked together in one breathing network, one grand being. They flourished in abundance, spending endless days nurtured by the rain and wind, the rich soil, and even the cleansing fires of lightning. Working in harmony alongside them lived numerous races of fae.
Koun nudged her, pulling her mind back to the present. “All right, boy, just another moment.” She’d have easily spent hours or days reliving the tree’s history. She eyed the dark passage at the back of the hollow. Another portal. This one much different from the Duir. Tangled roots jutted around its edges like teeth in a gaping maw. She took a breath and aimed her thoughts into its depths.
“It breaks earthly boundaries, Wynn,” she said, her mind overwhelmed by the tree’s endlessness. “The tunnel splits into numerous paths, each one leading to a different place, many of them realms beyond our own. Some of them converge, some have no end, and I can’t be sure which one to take—”
Koun grabbed her wrist into his mouth and pulled.
“Of course,” she said, feeling a bit doltish. “We’ll follow Koun.”
They followed the hound through the orange-red passageway, the horses walking easily through the ample space. Unlike in Duir’s Run, the ceiling raised high above Wynn’s head, though he still slouched from the pain in his ribs. They passed numerous openings, and whispers tickled Lia’s ears. She shivered in memory of the dwarf scout’s words, “Never knew no one who went in t’come back out.”
Koun knows the way. He’ll lead us to safety.
The course took a sudden turn and t
hey filed carefully around the passage. Lia’s heart thudded. The path narrowed, the ceiling lowered, and just as a twinge of panic took hold, a beam of light shot toward them. Lia caught a whiff of fresh air and fallen leaves.
We’re almost there …
They hurried their pace, the horses bowing through the shrunken tunnel, and one by one, they burst through an opening into the heart of a familiar grove.
“The Bryns!” Wynn whooped.
Lia raised her face to the dusky sunlight. The foothills breathed renewed life into her. She turned back to the hollowed yew with her enhanced sight. Her hide-a-way shone back at her with reds and browns like polished jasper. A subtle glow emanated around the tree. She and Koun had spent many afternoons in the hollow’s warm embrace, she never knowing it was a passage to Brume.
Lia peeked back inside the tree and found the tunnel gone. The hollow was just a hollow once more. However, she suspected the portal would open if ever the need arose.
She cast her gaze across the yellowing maple trees, her new eyes drinking in their brilliance. The familiar maples reached out like old friends. Their vibrant essence infused her with childhood memories and she reeled with longing. “Welcome home,” they imparted.
The trees’ greetings hushed under the pounding of hoof beats. A flash of black whipped through the trees. Wynn stepped forth and raised his blade. The ebony horse charged straight at them and Lia’s stomach reached into her throat.
“Whoa!” Kelven halted his steed. “Wynn?”
He jumped down with his mouth agape. Wynn smiled, sheathed his sword, and clasped Kelven’s arm. “You’re in for a long story.”
With his mouth still open, Kelven’s eyes lit on Lia. His shock heralded her strange appearance. He drew close and pools of hazel-brown warmed her insides. “Are you … all right?”
She nodded, her throat dry as tinder. His eyes flickered over her face, up to her silver crown, and down to the tips of her moon-white fingers. He took her hand and held it like a flower, gentle and reverent, and then he pulled her into his arms. Lia melded her body into his, reveling in his warmth and tenderness. When he released her, his eyes were wet.
“I wondered why Koun kept leading me to the Bryns. For two days, the hound never let up on me. Now I know why.” Kelven swallowed hard. “Listen, you both should know, your granda—”
“We know, Kel,” Wynn said, sparing him from saying any more. “What of Lia’s da; is there still time?”
Lia’s insides froze. Oh please …
“He’s alive,” Kelven said, squeezing Lia’s hand.
Without further delay, the trio sped the horses through the grove with Koun running alongside them. They reached the base of the hills edging Rockberg, and a gasp slid from Lia’s lips.
Straif roots covered the ravaged village. The lifeless shoots dangled like webs from the rooftops and covered the ground in decaying heaps. A few cottages sent up wisps of hearth smoke, the only signs of life.
“Many fled, others died, and a few struggle to live.” Kelven’s voice cracked. “Koun and I have been hunting in the groves, and Doc Lloyd’s been running up food and supplies from Kilnsgate. Last word he brought us was that the royals had arrived from Anu, making up their own explanation for this blight.”
Kelven’s words fell like whispers around Lia. “Da,” was all she could say, all she could think about, as she hastened Merrie’s step. Tears stung her eyes as they skirted the town. The hills rolled beside them with the quartz towers pointing at the twilight sky. They trampled over mounds of Straif roots, crushing the black arms to powder, and reached the edge of Lia’s yard. An array of barbed shoots lay in tangles on the path, though none had made it to the cottage. They halted the horses and Lia hurried inside her home.
“Lia!” Ma’s eyes turned to platters. She flew to her daughter and embraced her. They shared a flood of tears before Ma finally let go. She smoothed her hand over Lia’s hair and ran her fingers down her cheek. “My starry heavens, what’s happened to you?”
“I’ve been painted by Brume,” Lia said. “But I’m alive.”
Their tears did not cease as Ma embraced Wynn and Lia approached Da. She clasped his hand, still covered in green sores.
“He cannot wake. Most plagued by the poison have perished, but some, like your da, remain in this impervious sleep. That ointment you gave me before you left works like nothing else; not even the herbs Kelven brought from Brume measure as strong. It’s the only thing that’s kept his wounds from worsening.”
Lia paused in memory. She reached for her pouch and the stone within grew hot. “The quartz dropped into the salve while I was filling the jar.”
She eyed Ma. “I’ve much to tell you, but first we must craft the cure. I’ll need you to come with me; you’re part of the elixir.”
“The what? Lia, shouldn’t you rest for a moment? You and Wynn have wounds need tending—”
“No, we cannot delay.” The silver waters lingered in her blood, allaying the Straif venom’s hold, but time ticked away its power, and only a few skins remained of the precious liquid. If she fell to the poison, so would the hope of the elixir.
“We’ll be back,” Lia said, nodding to Wynn and Kelven, and she and Ma hurried out the cottage door. She grabbed Merrie’s reins, but stopped short when Ma waved her toward Da’s workshop.
Lia rushed after her. “Ma, we must get to town, to the store—”
Her words froze as she charged into the room. Dozens of herb bundles dangled from the walls, mortars filled with crushed plants covered the largest table, and on a bench stood rows of jars filled with decoctions. Grandma’s Grimoire lay open on its own table.
“You’ve done all this?” Lia said.
“No, not I, your cousin, Holly. She’s here tending to the sick. She and your Aunt Brina should be arriving back soon.” Ma’s eyes welled up. “Holly sees things, has visions. She saw Granda’s death, knew he perished after the journey home. So, they came here.”
Lia held back her grief and whispered, “His spirit soars free in the Summerlands.”
In their silence that followed, Lia’s eyes roved to the opened Grimoire. One page showed the sketch of a tall fir and on the other page a flowery broom tree. Yet, that was not what pulled Lia closer to the book.
She blinked her eyes several times, but nothing changed. Her enchanted sight unveiled encryptions written on the pages she had never seen before. The writings blazed like wildfire across the finely sketched trees.
Upon the fir: Accio donum vitae, beatus matrix, and below it, the translation: “Summon gift of life, blissful womb.” Across the broom tree were the words: Devoco violentus ventus, and below it: “Call away violent winds.”
Lia flipped through the book, seeing for the first time the old widows’ magic inscribed over the trees. So many chants, so many precious incantations Grandma cleverly hid. But now Lia had the sight to find them.
“What is it?” Ma asked.
Lia closed the book and turned to her. “It’s time to purge the fog from everyone’s eyes. No laws or foolish rules can deny the truths of magic. It runs through us all, and only when we turn our backs, when we shun the powers of nature, do we become prey to the darkness.”
“You speak like a sage.” Ma shook her head and sighed. “Your grandma used magic, upheld its powers in all sorts of ways, and yet she perished.”
“Grandma Myrna danced with the shadows to get into Brume, bringing back curatives to all she could. She used her gifts the only way she knew how, from the place that breathed magic into her soul from her very beginning.”
Ma’s brow crinkled and she wrung her hands. Lia’s heart ached for her. If only she had a balm to soothe Ma’s grief over the loss of her parents.
They gathered supplies and toted them to the crystal tower at the center of Lia’s garden. Soon, a cauldron dangled over a small fire, which sent flames to dance across the great quartz.
“So now it begins.” Lia clasped Ma’s hand under the starlit sky. r />
The words of the Nion guardian whispered across Lia’s mind, and she recited them, “With three parts herbs we begin our cast, by lion’s tooth and grass of goose, and slender shoots of quitch grass.” She placed the cuttings from the three plants into the cauldron.
“And now we offer two parts tree, enchanted Nion and honey-sweet Saille.” Lia placed the Nion clipping into the pot, and then uncoiled the Saille branch and placed it in, too.
“Add a snippet of golden bough, and bit of the enemy.” Lia tossed in the golden bough found high in the Duir tree, and her heart warmed for Gobann, Laguz, and Othila. Then she withdrew the Straif piece. Ma sucked in her breath, but didn’t speak. Lia let the piece roll in her palm, stiff and harmless. Farewell, Hag-Mother. And she dropped it into the pot.
Lia drew up a pouch and handed it to Ma, prompting her with a nod. Ma’s hands trembled and her breath came heavy as she loosened the string and poured the glitter from its vessel.
“Combine with sacred alicorn,” Lia said, as the sparkling essence from the unicorn’s horn settled into the brew, “under the light of a sentry stone.”
She released her crystal talisman from its pouch and it burned against her palm. Then a beam of light shot forth. Lia flinched, but held her stone steady. The crystal’s mother—the tower before them—glowed in answer. Light formed at its center, expanding out until its entire mass radiated against the night. Lia’s eyes widened on the giant quartz.
“Now, the water skin,” she whispered, holding to the crystal’s magic.
“Yes.” Ma stammered. She grasped the skin and emptied the waters from the Seren River into the cauldron. “Ohhh.”
“Brewed in the blood of Brume,” Lia continued, “by maiden, mother, and crone.”
“Mother!” Ma’s face blanched nearly as white as Lia’s.
Grandma Myrna hovered above, swathed in light. Her face emitted joy as she smiled on them. The cauldron steamed below her, the enchanted brew completed.
Lia’s stone and the crystal tower dimmed. Grandma Myrna’s spirit brushed across Lia’s face like a feather. She floated before Ma and wrapped her ghostly arms around her daughter. Ma wept as if she’d tapped a spring. The elder woman glided upward and placed her hands on her heart. Ma and Lia mimicked the pose. “I love you too, Grandma,” Lia said.