Grandma’s soul sailed like a shooting star across the sky to paradise.
With blurred eyes and trembling hands, Lia filled several bottles with the elixir. Ma’s sobs carried across the garden and Koun whimpered in reply. It had been less than a fortnight since Da’s attack, but a lifetime of changes. More truths had been unveiled than Lia could have ever dreamed. Now, she held the cure to Draugyrd’s bane in her hands. And creating it helped heal Ma’s inner wounds, too.
Lia stumbled alongside Ma as they made it back into the cottage. She handed Kelven all but one of the bottles. “Give some to both horses, and then get to the others in town. One spoonful to each person should do.”
With a nod, Kelven bolted from the cottage, and Lia turned to Da. Wynn sat near, his eyes heavy.
“Here, let me.” Ma took the bottle and poured out a dose of the glittery substance.
Lia propped up Da’s head and Ma spooned the magic in. He swallowed it in reflex.
“Wynn’s turn, and then mine,” Lia said.
Shock pinched Ma’s forehead. “You and Wynn, too?”
She placed the bottle in Wynn’s hand and he took a swig, and then handed it to Lia.
The warm liquid ran thick like honey down Lia’s throat. She closed her eyes and swam in the euphoric magic. Her body warmed and her pains dissipated.
Ma’s eyes rounded. “Look!”
Da grumbled and his head rolled on the pillow. His sores shrunk to pale green speckles and the swelling vanished. He moved his lips and his eyelids fluttered open upon Ma. “Carin.”
Then his eyes shifted to Lia. “Daughter … what in tarnished augers … did you do to your hair?”
Lia awoke to the smell of porridge and honey biscuits, and a wet muzzle pressed against her face. “Guess you’ve had your morning milk.” Koun licked his nose as Lia crawled out of bed.
Wynn’s snoring carried through the cottage like a bear rumbling in his winter den. Da slept too, his body cured but weakened from days of fever. Lia smiled.
Soon, he’ll be hammering away in his workshop, crafting furniture once again from the overgrowth of maples.
The kettle steamed and Lia poured herself a cup of chicory tea. She whirled around at the sound of the cottage door. Ma, Kelven, Aunt Brina, and Holly filed inside. Kelven stepped close and Lia’s stomach did a flip. Tiredness from riding the night away weighed down his eyes, but he gave her a bright smile.
“I see my son is still sleeping. Might blow off this roof if he keeps at it.” Aunt Brina squeezed Lia in a bosomy hug. “Hmph, hair the color of polished silver and skin like an eggshell. And Wynn looks like he’s been struck by a thunderbolt. You’re skinny as a withy to boot.”
She turned and ladled a mound of porridge into a bowl and set it in front of Lia.
“Thanks, Aunt Brina. Good to see you too.” Lia grinned at her aunt.
“You kids fill those scrawny bellies; you’ve all done a lifetime’s work. Carin, my dear sister, your lover’s fast asleep and there’s a passel of apples begging to be picked.” Aunt Brina shuffled herself back outside with Ma behind her.
Kelven swiped a biscuit from the platter and sat down across from Lia. He rubbed his eyes with a calloused knuckle. Holly sat beside him with a pouch strung around her neck.
“I’m glad you’re back, Lia,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if, well, I didn’t know if you’d make it after my vision.”
“What did you see, cousin?” Lia spooned some porridge into her mouth.
“I was sitting in your garden, harvesting lemon balm when all at once I saw you cross to the Otherworld. And you, um, turned into a … tree.”
Lia’s eyes flitted to Kelven and then back to her eleven-year-old cousin. “I did cross over, Holly; your vision was right. But only for a moment, just a glimpse, and then I came back, pale as a birch.”
Lia gulped some tea. “The tree you saw must’ve been the Ruis that I crossed over with; perhaps your vision muddled us together.”
Holly didn’t reply, but her eyes argued the point.
Lia pinched her lips. A simple mix up, that’s all it was. Holly is new at scrying; she must’ve got confused with my connection to the Ruis. “So, what have you got in that pouch?”
“Oh, uh,” Holly opened the small leather bag and released Grandma’s amber into her palm, “Kelven let me hold it. When I first touched the amber, my mind filled with the sea—waves crashing on a hidden shore. Then I saw mountains, fog, and then a darkness. I was a little shaken afterward, but Kelven explained how the amber worked.”
Lia gagged on her tea. “Holly, listen to me. Keep the stone in memory of Granda Luis and Grandma before him, but never think of wielding it to gain passage into Brume. All deals are off with the shades. You’d be killed at once, or worse.”
Holly’s amber eyes shone with fear. “I’d—”
“She’d never get by me to do anything that foolish.” Wynn planted himself with a thud next to Lia. He scooped up the remaining biscuits and shoved them into his mouth, washing them down with tea. “So, everyone cured?”
Kelven piped up, “We got the elixir across Rockberg and to Doc Lloyd. He sent riders to the other villages. I put the last of the bottles in your da’s workshop, Lia, along with the pile of gifts.”
Lia cocked her head. “Gifts?”
“From all the families you saved. You and Wynn might as well be royalty now.”
Wynn let out a cough and kicked Lia’s foot under the table. “Royalty?”
Kelven’s eyes squinted at Wynn. “You’ve got something to share?”
Wynn subdued his grin. “Later. Go on with what you were saying.”
Kelven hesitated, then shifted his eyes back to Lia. “The people want to help you get the store back in order.”
“That would be wonderful.” And surprising.
For her entire life, she and Granda had endured the people’s disapproval. It had taken the Straif’s destruction to turn them back to embracing the old ways. Her heart tugged for Granda. She wished he could be here. He’d have loved nothing more than to help cultivate the healing crafts back into the lands.
Lia turned teary eyes on Holly. “Guess I’ll need a partner, someone who could stay with me awhile.”
Her cousin’s eyes widened and she nodded.
Lia finished her porridge and stepped outside in a blaze of sunshine. A sense of a new era permeated the air. Her garden buzzed with life, and the herbs and flowers sang to her in greeting. The colors of the plantlife shone like gemstones, and she caught the flashing lights of tiny fae. She smiled at her newfound vision.
The stone tower rose from the center of her garden like a sculpture of ice. She thought of the light it exuded from the night before, and wondered if the magic from her little stone had strengthened its crystal-mother. Somehow, she had to find a way to help empower the quartz sentries of Rockberg.
Or the fog will continue to weaken.
She placed her hand on its smooth surface. Her pouch grew hot against her chest, and she drew out the stone into her other palm. A flash of light shot from the miniature quartz, encircling Lia and the crystal tower within it.
A great rumbling followed, and the tower filled with orange-red heat, as if molten lava boiled up from the earth’s core. Lia’s body shook with its energy and she strained to hold onto its power. The tower radiated like a thousand suns, shooting rays far to the north, toward Brume’s looming wall. The fog spilled into her mind, hungry and cold, grasping at the fiery threads of light. Wherever the crystal’s heat met cold, the fog thickened into strong, renewed billows.
Yes, it’s working; it’s strengthening the magic …
The cords of power fell as Lia collapsed.
“Lia!” Kelven leapt close, cupped her torso in his arms, and lifted her head. The light faded and her stone cooled. “Are you all right?”
She gazed into his worried eyes. “It’s too much. I can’t restore the power on my own.”
Kelven’s brow creased and he shook his
head. “How ’bout you tuck that stone of yours away for a while. Even great wizards need a couple days off.”
Lia gave him a wry grin and propped herself up. There was time. She would learn how to rally the magic, find a way to build up enough power, and revive the crystals to re-enchant the fog.
Koun planted himself next to Kelven, begging for a pet. “You know, this is some hound you’ve got here. I don’t know if your ma told you, but he saved me twice.”
“How?” Lia asked, slipping her pouch back under her tunic.
“I got about halfway through that fog when the amber started to glow. I tossed out the food and ale just like your granda had done. That’s when I lost sight of the trail, couldn’t find it anywhere. The wind started picking up and I thought sure I’d be swallowed up for good. Then I heard barking, and I knew the only creature capable of that howlish banter was Koun.”
Koun rolled his body on the ground, dusting his back in earth. A couple of fae flashed against him.
“That’s not all. That night, he started acting panicked, pacing and carrying on. When I opened the cottage door, I followed him out to hundreds of snakes creeping up the path. I realized they weren’t snakes, but enormous roots. Koun leapt at them, wove through them like a wild thread, until they were all tangled. He didn’t stop until the next day when the roots stopped moving.”
Lia reached over Kelven’s lap and patted her hound. When she turned back, her face came within inches of Kelven’s. His breath brushed across her cheek. He ran his hand over her short locks and whispered, “Like spun silk.”
Lia’s stomach buzzed. She opened her mouth to speak, but he wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her.
“Might wanna come up for air now. Your ma’s coming this way,” Wynn drawled.
Lia bolted from Kelven’s lap. He unfolded himself from the ground, murmuring, “Beautiful.”
Lia’s heart sang. She was thin, pale as goat’s milk, and silver-crowned, and he thought her beautiful.
“All rested and fed, I see. Good. And my strapping son is up and about.” Aunt Brina huffed up the path with a basketful of apples.
“Let me help with those.” Lia reached for the basket. Her aunt smiled. “Thank you, dear one. You boys come inside with me. It’s time for a nice long chat.”
Kelven gave Lia a wink before he and Wynn followed Aunt Brina through the door.
“Been nice having my sister here, strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Ma set her basket down and pushed wisps of copper hair back into her bun. “Lia, let’s sit awhile.”
They found a spot near Da’s workshop, dotted with wildflowers. In the distance, Merrie and Nolan grazed peacefully alongside Lia’s young bay, Shae.
Ma turned to her with a somber face. “I knew of the shades—wind wraiths allowing Grandma to pass through the fog. She told me they let her in for the enchanted food and ale she brought them, but I knew there was a greater cost. I felt it in her desperation, watched her run like wildfire back and forth from Brume, crafting potions all hours, or writing in her Grimoire. There was never time for sleep, barely time for any of us. Every day she raced the same, as if each second bit at her heels like a beast. After she died, I vowed never to follow in her footsteps, never to give my life over that way.”
Ma dabbed her eyes with her apron. “Then my worst nightmares happened. Oh, your granda assured me you’d all be safe, that he’d gone in numerous times without incident. Then Kelven brought back his poisoned body, told me you and Wynn had stayed in that wretched place, and the next day, my father died.”
“I’m sorry, Ma. I miss Granda, too.” Lia put her arm around her ma’s shoulders. “It’s over now, and in time the village will mend.”
“Oh, how I wish it were over, but I knew it the minute I saw you. My sister knows it, too. You, Wynn, Kelven, even Holly, all of you carrying the burdens of Brume.”
Lia paused, finding no words to ease Ma’s fears. The strange land had gripped them all and changed their lives forever. The last line of the riddle trickled like rain through her mind:
I know the children will come forth and bring it back again.
Yes, she thought, and we have only just begun.
Their silence hung like the travel-worn clothes drying on the line. The ragged garments dangled in the breeze. “Sorry about your cloak, Ma; I know how you love it.”
“The cloak was beautiful, but that’s not why I love it,” Ma said. “It carries something special. The soft inner lining is your swaddling blanket—the same blanket my mother used with me, from the same cloth used to swaddle her.”
Lia bolted to the clothesline and released the tattered cloak. Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the seams, releasing the smooth lining from its woolen shell. She flipped it over to its other side and ran her hands over the green dyed velvet, worn and flat from time.
Ma rushed to her side. “What is it? What are you doing?”
Lia held up her birth blanket and her eyes fixed on the oversized patch adorning its upper corner. She grabbed hold of her knife and cut away the stitches. The flowery patch fell away. In its place, embroidered on blue velvet, stretched a long bow set with an arrow, entwined in ivy, and aimed toward the sky.
Ma’s eyes widened. “But that’s … it can’t be.” She ran her hand over the crest.
“It’s the royal crest. This mantle belonged to Grandma’s father, King Gorsedd.”
Ma trembled and Lia’s mind spun with a new horror. Remnants of the precious mantle lay strewn in Brume’s Eadha forest, stained scarlet from her many wounds. On any other cloth, the magic of her blood would wither away. But on the mantle, her blood mingled with the imprints of birth blood from maiden, mother, and crone. The imprints would cradle her spilled essence—preserve it.
And give Draugyrd a way to bind me!
A telling verse from the Grimoire cut into her mind like an icy dagger:
Birth from blood, life’s primal key,
Vital force, sap from the tree;
Flowing rivers, essence of you
Spill gently forth your sacred brew.
Vital force, essence of you. Blood was a sacred elixir all on its own, one to be cherished, revered, and rarely spilled. Lia knew a few concoctions that used it for the good, but most magic requiring blood was baneful and dark. Now her precious blood, her sacred brew, stained remnants of the royal cloth that lay strewn like treasures across Draugyrd’s forest.
Her insides quivered with dread. She could almost hear the master shade’s laughter. How soon until Draugryd recovers from the battle? How long do I have before he works out the binding magic and pulls me back to his lair?
Lia’s mind flooded with the fateful whispers of the prophecy found deep within Granda’s cane:
A child of imposing grace will shine for all the land;
From moon to moon she will race, as armies take their stand.
Across the kingdom her foe will chase,
As her soul strives to stay free,
And in the end her freedom resides
Within the great hallowed tree.
“Carin, Lia, come quick,” Aunt Brina called.
A caravan meandered up the road in a blaze of color. Silken flags of reds and golds glimmered, all embroidered with the same royal crest gripped within Lia’s hands. The band of Nemetona’s soldiers rode in perfect unison, leading two fine carriages curtained in crimson.
Crimson. The color of the royal sages.
Thanks first and foremost to my husband and sons for supporting me through the long, roller-coaster process of writing a novel. I’d also like to thank my grandmother and late grandfather for their inspiration, my dad for cheering me on, my mom for her belief in me, my brother for being as fantasy-nerdy as I am, and all my relatives and friends who listened to me ramble about my book.
A big thanks goes out to my writing friends for their guidance and encouragement. I’m grateful and proud to rub elbows with such creative people. A special thanks to Susan Salluce for pushing me
to get this book out to the world, and my heartfelt thanks to the ladies over at indie-visible.com for rallying their support and awing me with their talents.
Christina Mercer earned a degree in Accounting from California State University at California and a Certificate in Herbal Studies from Clayton College of Natural Health. She took Writer’s Best in Show at the 2012 SCBWI CA North/Central Regional Conference and was a semi-finalist in the 2010 Amazon Breakout Novel Award Contest. Christina resides in Northern California enjoying life with her husband, two sons, four dogs, three fish, and about 100,000 honeybees.
You can find her at www.christinamercer.com
or blogging with the girls over at www.indievisible.com
Christina Mercer, Arrow of the Mist
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