11
Change is rarely accomplished without pain.
—G AXIX, D RACU PHILOSOPHER
G UTEL APPEARED IN HER TOWER DOORWAY THE next morning at dawn, a haughty angle to his chin. “We have a visitor.” So saying, he turned to clomp down the stairs without waiting for a reply.
“What visitor?” she asked, taking care on the rickety steps as she followed. “Here?”
He didn’t answer, leaving her to imagine and discard possibilities as he led her down to the first floor, through the entryway, and to the door to the sitting room.
“In you go.” He gestured imperiously for her to enter, his red eyes sharp with distrust.
Remembering her plan to win him over, she managed a smile. “Who is it?”
Gutel put a finger to his chin, his face screwing up in exaggerated confusion. “Hmm. How could we find out the answer to that question?” He snapped his fingers, his expression brightening. “I know! Maybe you could go in and see for yourself!”
Her teeth ground together. So much for being nice. She had an urge to grab him by the hat and toss him into the fireplace he came from. Resisting that temptation, she stepped inside to find the room transformed. The shutters were open to reveal a view of murky gray sky. The fallen ceiling beam had been removed, the floor swept, and rubble cleared from the fireplace. The gold, silver, and copper plates sat neatly on shelves. The kobold had been busy.
Running out of ways to avoid looking at Zeru, she finally met his eyes, where dark things swam, making her stomach twist. He sat slouched in a chair next to the fireplace, his feet resting on a side table. He nodded toward a corner behind her. “Summoner, meet the Deathringer.”
Cassia turned to see a dour-faced man wearing a gold medallion over blue robes. His long features gave him a solemn air, but his eyes were sharp and assessing. She saw no traits to mark him as Sylvan nor Azpian but thought he must be among land folk. She caught the scent of swamp. A water dweller of some kind, perhaps. His hands were clasped, his fingers tinted a deep shade of purple. The scents of spell craft permeated the air, cloves and ashes and unnamed things.
She turned back to Zeru. “A Seer?”
“Gutel told me of an ancient sect of Summoners and offered to contact them. Magus Xoden was kind enough to offer his services.” He gave Cassia a slow perusal before adding, “He’s confident he can remove the ring.”
No! She hadn’t expected anything like this to happen, at least not so soon. Her first urge was to run, but where would she go? She turned to the stranger. “How did you come to be here? My father has employed many Seers and none of them ever talked of the welkins. It isn’t common knowledge.”
“Not to you, perhaps.” Xoden spoke as if she should be grateful for his condescension. “An elite group of Summoners has always upheld the wards in this place. Do you think because the land folk have forgotten the welkins that everyone has? It is not for the average dabbler to know.”
Cassia huffed. Veleda would not like being dismissed as a dabbler. More importantly, she distrusted people who used insults to shift attention away from themselves. “I thought only the amulet and the ring could open a doorway to this place.”
“You were mistaken,” Xoden said, lips pursed as if considering things beneath him. “If called properly by the steward of a welkin, a doorway forms, and I can step through it.”
Bells of opportunity rang in Cassia’s head. “Is your medallion the way back?”
“No need to answer that,” Zeru cut in. “Sylvan, don’t hurt yourself making escape plans. Xoden has to be sent back by the steward of the welkin. Which is Gutel.”
“Forgive me,” Gutel said, stepping forward with a short bow. “But I am not the steward.” His hands were clasped in front of him, his voice tight with distress. “The steward is always a Zerian. I’m… let us say, the acting steward until the other guardians awaken.”
“What’s a Zerian?” Cassia asked.
Gutel put his hands to his hat. “What is a Zerian? Might as well ask, what’s a Sylvan? Zerians are the rightful guardians of the welkins.” He aimed a pitying look at her. “It’s clear to me you learned nothing in your youth, girl. Did you grow up in a tree?”
Her nostrils flared. “You know, Kobold, if you were in my father’s household, you’d be reprimanded for your insolence, which could involve basting you with honey and roasting you on a spit.”
Gutel replied with a sharp-toothed grin, “And in my household, we marinate Sylvans in a mixture of vinegar and spices.”
Xoden looked between them, a frown making deep brackets next to his mouth. “This is a conversation for another time, surely.”
“Quite right, Magus,” Zeru said, getting lithely to his feet. “There is no end to the chatter of a Sylvan. The tower is ready.” He made a smooth gesture toward the door.
All hospitality and welcome , Cassia thought bitterly. The way Xoden looked at her, like she was a problem to solve, made the hair prickle on the back of her neck.
“You can’t possibly trust him,” she said, catching Zeru’s eye. “What do you know about him?”
The Dracu’s bland look made her long for a weapon. “You just don’t want him to take the ring.”
“Of course I don’t.” She wished she could surprise him, render him insensible with a few well-placed attacks, as her sisters would. “This was not part of our bargain.”
“But it has always been my intention.” His eyes were as flat as stagnant marsh water. “And it turns out, you don’t have a choice.”
She couldn’t believe he’d do this so soon after she chose not to slit his throat. “And if I refuse?”
“I’ll carry you if it comes to that. You decide.”
Her breaths came shorter, her palms growing damp. He had no gratitude that she’d saved his life and then spared it. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
His eyes glittering coldly, he gestured for her to go first. She kept her head high the whole way to the tower. Chin up , as Thea would say.
Earthy scents of herbs and a hint of acrid ash hit her as she stepped into the empty tower. The room had been cleared except for a table covered in vials and bowls. Shutters covered the window, weak bands of sunlight squeezing through the cracks. Candles burned from pewter holders placed on the floor. Two concentric circles with symbols between them had been drawn with white powder on the floor. A sick, crawling sensation gripped her stomach as she recognized the rune for fire.
“What are you planning to do?” she asked, wishing she had paid more attention to Veleda’s rituals.
Xoden’s robes swished as he moved to the table. “You’ll have answers soon enough. Step into the circle.”
Cassia was familiar with summoning circles. They acted as a contained gateway between realms so the spirits could commune with the Seer without coming into the living world. Some spirits were benevolent. Others were hostile, like the one that had broken half the vials in Veleda’s workroom.
What destruction could a spirit wreak if she was trapped inside the circle with it?
Xoden picked up a mortar and pestle and began to grind something that released a sulfurous cloud, inclining his head toward Zeru, who was leaning against the wall. “You may leave us now.”
Zeru crossed his arms. “I’ll stay.”
The Summoner frowned. “That’s not advisable. I work with volatile forces. Keeping them in check requires complete concentration.”
Cassia disliked him more and more. “There’s no harm in him staying.”
It felt wrong to argue for the Dracu, but she didn’t want to be alone with this stranger. He’d made no bargain not to harm her.
The Magus didn’t deign to look at her as he answered. “The spirits I call are reluctant to be summoned and therefore easily provoked. Another presence could cause a failure of the entire spell.”
Zeru turned a stony look on him. “You could have explained this before.”
“I do humbly apologize,” Xoden said with a bow. “I promise the end result will be worth your trust in me.”
Zeru hesitated. “I want the ring immediately, the moment you have it.”
“Of course,” the Summoner assured him, bowing again. “The very moment.”
Cassia’s stomach clenched as Zeru gave her a final inscrutable look before leaving the room.
As she eyed the symbols, trying to remember the meaning of various runes, Xoden poured powder into one of the vials. “Step in, girl. The Dracu shared the terms of your bargain with me. I have assured him you will not be killed.”
Her lip curled. There were a multitude of things she didn’t want to endure aside from her own murder. “What are you planning to do?”
Xoden watched with satisfaction as the contents of the vial bubbled over. “Your ring is bound to you with a mystical attachment, and spirits are more connected to that kind of magic. Where the living failed, the spirits will succeed.”
“You’re going to put me in there with a spirit who will try to break my bond with the ring?” Her heart lurched into a rapid beat. “Absolutely not. For one thing, I’ve seen hostile spirits. I know the havoc they can wreak.”
“I will call an entity familiar to me,” he assured her. “Stay calm and do not agitate it.”
“I don’t want to stay calm,” she snapped. “I will fight, and if I’m harmed, the ring will be destroyed.”
“That is one theory,” he said, focusing on the potion. “I’m not convinced.”
“And if you’re wrong,” she said, “the Dracu is likely to gut you. I hope you’re prepared to die for your failure.”
But Xoden remained unmoved. “Think of this as a test of your self-discipline. I know your father values that quality.”
She watched his preparations with increased suspicion. Of course, Zeru must have shared that her father was the Sylvan king, but the Summoner’s tone made her wonder if this was more than a casual mention. “What do you know of my father?”
He met her eyes, his own sharp with some emotion. “It happens I once worked for him. He wanted more power over the trees of Thirstwood, and I had proven myself in the field of persuasive summoning.”
Her brow furrowed. Persuasive summoning? She translated that to mean Xoden could make spirits do his bidding. But what did that have to do with Thirstwood? Her father didn’t need spirits to control it. It was his great strength and connection with the trees that assured the loyalty of the forest.
“What are you claiming to have done?” she asked, ready to refute his lies.
“You don’t know?” His smile was proud. “I bound some of the hungrier spirits to the strongest trees. Deprived of true life, those spirits have a need for blood. They find it where they can. Animals. Humans. Azpians. The blood of forest folk is forbidden to the trees, of course, making it safe for your people. A perfect defense, don’t you think? It is through my efforts that the forest became, in essence, the largest legion of Huntsmen in the Sylvan king’s army.”
Cassia’s head spun. He had to be lying.
“If your story were true,” she said, “that would mean you’ve forced hostile spirits to take over the trees belonging to Sylvans.” She shook her head, finding no words for how horrifying that was. “What would happen to the original spirits?”
Xoden’s smile was cold. “Perhaps they were consumed by the new spirit, in which case they live on as part of something else.”
Cassia couldn’t hide her disgust. “If I believed you, I’d say you deserved death for what you’ve done.”
“I see you are as small-minded as your father,” Xoden said, his lips twisting. He stepped closer, making her take a step back. “After all my work, all my toil, he dismissed me.”
“As he should have,” she said, revulsion turning her stomach. “The trees belong to the Sylvans. Some of those trees house the spirits of our dead. Some hold the living, Sylvans who have gone into their tree to rest or heal.” Cassia’s blood ran cold. “My mother.”
“A beautiful woman,” he said, his smile revolting. “A shame what happened to her.”
“What are you implying?” She found herself shaking and gripped her upper arms. “That you hurt her?”
“Not at all. Her illness came long after I was gone. Whether it had something to do with a hungry spirit finding its way into her tree, I couldn’t say. I merely admire the subtlety of revenge. Your mother never liked me. I did not grieve her absence.” His scrutiny made her skin crawl. “You remind me of her in a way.”
“Let me assure you,” Cassia warned him, inching back as he advanced, “if you harm me, my father will hunt you.”
His smile sharpened. “Why do you think I came to the welkins? He can’t find me here.”
Her heart became a pebble thrown into dark water. Xoden was without scruples or fear of consequences. And she was at his mercy.
Giving her a shove into the circle, he tipped the contents of the vial, igniting the powder. She found herself inside a ring of misty white flames.
She’d barely drawn breath when a creature materialized inside with her. It appeared both birdlike and reptilian, with a beak and feathered wings, its lower body covered in scales. It appeared to be made of bright smoke with flames like feathers. When she took a step back, it came for her. Contrary to its wispy appearance, its talons were sharp and solid, drawing blood from her arms. It went for her left hand, for the ring.
“No!” Her cuts burned, but she cried out more from fear than pain. With each slash, a burst of bright red light lit the room. Severing her bond?
“Don’t scream, you foolish child,” Xoden called from outside the circle. “You will only enrage it.”
She couldn’t think with this thing on her, its wings flapping as its claws shredded her skin. Her hands and arms were covered with slashes. No matter how she blocked it, the thing kept coming at her. She wanted to call out for her mother. Enora. Thea. Her father. Anyone! She even thought of Zeru.
No one is here to help you. Think!
In desperation, she recalled the one powerful thing she had: the Solis Gemma. She had no idea if it had any effect on spirits, but she called on the stone with every fiber of her will, making it a command, a plea, and a prayer all at once.
Before she could release the blast, a second creature was in the circle with her, a fox-like animal with huge, pointed ears, copper-brown fur, and a bushy tail. It rushed at the bird-lizard, its softness brushing her skin as it dashed past.
The two creatures snarled and shrieked, the low rumble of growls interspersing the rip of claws. The fox seemed to be… defending her. It tore at the bird-lizard, making gashes in its smoky form that seeped darkness. With each slash, it grew less distinct until it disappeared altogether. With a final look at Cassia, the fox creature disappeared, too.
She blinked a few times and saw that the shutters had fallen open, leaving the chamber bright. She was trembling, but still standing. The border of flames that held her trapped burned away, revealing the Summoner’s face contorted into a mask of rage.
The door crashed open. Zeru strode in, and she met his eyes, her chest burning with rage. His furious gaze darkened further as he stared at her bleeding arms.
“It was working!” Xoden shouted, an accusing finger aimed at Cassia. “My thrall was severing the bond when she—”
Zeru came at the Summoner like a charging wolf, clasping him around the neck and slamming him into the wall so hard the table shook. “You promised she wouldn’t be harmed!”
“A few scratches,” the Summoner choked.
Zeru’s grip tightened. “She’s bleeding .”
“As if you care,” Cassia said with soft-voiced loathing, stepping from the circle on unsteady legs. Her cuts throbbed with every beat of her heart.
Xoden’s skin was turning blue, and apparently, Zeru wasn’t quite ready to kill him. He released the magus, letting him slide to the floor.
Zeru stared down in disgust. “Thralling a spirit is forbidden. You said nothing about that plan when you promised to get me the ring.”
Cassia’s eyes widened at the contempt in Zeru’s tone. Sylvans honored the sacredness of spirits, with strict rules for Seers in their summoning. Spirits were never to be held captive or forced to do the bidding of the living. But she hadn’t known the Dracu held to the same ideal.
The magus had no such qualms. Rubbing his throat with his stained fingers, he spat, “Don’t pretend you cared. You wanted the ring ‘by any means necessary.’ And rightly so. What is the value of one common spirit compared to the glory of retrieving an artifact of the Ancients?”
Something clicked in Cassia’s mind. “You were planning to keep the ring. You were never going to give it to the Dracu.” She laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Be silent, girl,” the Summoner hissed.
Zeru’s face was suffused in fury. He grabbed the Summoner’s robes and slammed him bodily against the wall once more. “Is that true?”
“I told you not to trust him,” she said.
Xoden choked out, “Let me try again. This time, I swear I’ll get the ring for you.”
“The way you swore she’d come to no harm?” With a violent shove, Zeru sent Xoden crashing into the table covered in vials. Glass shattered, and liquid spilled in hissing pools onto the floor. “Take your things and go before I throw you off this cloud myself.”
Xoden raised an open hand in a gesture of defiance, his hate-filled eyes on Cassia as he chanted a spell. Zeru grabbed his arm, shoving it behind his back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Give me my revenge,” Xoden choked, panting. “Do you know how long it took me to make that spirit my thrall?”
Zeru twisted the mage’s arm, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. “While she wears the Solis Gemma,” he enunciated, “she is under my protection. Do not return lest you wish to make an enemy of me. I assure you I’ll oblige.”
In the charged pause that followed, Gutel appeared in the doorway, his red eyes steely. “May I be of help?”
“Yes,” Zeru said, shoving the Summoner toward the door. “Send this filth back where he came from.”
Xoden stumbled, grabbing the door for support before turning a killing look on Cassia. When Zeru strode toward him, his eyes widened at whatever expression he saw on the Dracu’s face. As the Summoner swept out and clattered down the tower steps, Gutel gave Cassia an inscrutable look before following.
When Cassia swayed on her feet, Zeru took a step toward her.
“If you come any closer,” she said, steadying herself with a hand on the wall, “I will make you sorry. Somehow, I will. Don’t make me vow it.”
The chamber went deathly silent.
“He swore not to harm you.” Zeru’s rough voice scraped along her nerves.
Using the wall for support, she moved toward the door, turning on the threshold to face him. “And you believed him?”
Zeru blinked, his lips tightening a telling fraction.
Cassia shook her head. “My people have a saying: Tell the truth lest you choke on your lies. Admit it, Dracu. You didn’t care if he meant to keep his promise. Because you didn’t care what happened to me as long as you got the ring.” She didn’t need his admission when she saw the truth in his eyes.
Suddenly, she wanted him to know. Needed him to know. “I didn’t think about it.”
“What?” Zeru asked, his brow furrowing.
“I didn’t think of the amulet,” she said. “I saved you from falling because… I couldn’t do otherwise.”
She barely had time to see his reaction as she turned away. But it stayed in her mind’s eye as her feet scraped down the steps. It seemed she had finally surprised him. Pity she could not enjoy it.
It wasn’t until she was alone in her tower bedchamber with the door shut that she let herself shake.