2. Harper
2
HARPER
T he water glowed . Harper drew closer to the azure pool, cocking her head this way and that. The pure, clear waters captivated her. The strange light they emitted had nothing to do with the sun far above them. She would have called glowing water impossible, yet so much had happened to defy all logic and reason that Harper had given up questioning.
Around her companions the forest loomed, a watchful protector of the secret place. The canopy created a cocoon of fire, the leaves in a symphony of colour before their impending shedding. Birds trilled and creatures rustled in the distance, along with the gentle peal of animals’ bells as they grazed on the last of autumn’s bounty in meadows far away across the valley. But, it was silent where they stood, and a strange kind of watchfulness prickled her skin.
Their horses, stolen from the Kingsguard of Tournai and now tethered to the great trees, were happy to pause in the shade and nibble the grass—and Harper was glad for the break. They had ridden hard for weeks with the threat of King Toroth’s wrathful pursuit, first for the village, where they had used the stolen Dragonheart’s magic and knowledge from the royal archives to cure the remaining villagers, and then south and east, past the long reach of Pelenor’s capital, Tournai. The days, at first fraught and with the frisson of fear ever-present, had eased. Harper had been glad to run free—from Toroth, at least.
As for the spymaster Dimitrius, those feelings were altogether too complex. The hair on the back of her neck always prickled at the thought of him, as though his violet eyes were still upon her. He had let her escape—more than that, actively pushed her to—but she had seen the arcane manner in which he could travel through the world, slipping unseen from shadow to shadow, and she did not entirely trust to be out of his machinations yet. With every fresh stop on their journey, she found herself searching for him in the shadows—to no avail. Did she want to see him? For the curl of unease in her at the thought of him was part apprehension and part something else entirely opposite.
However, they had fled, and seen nothing of the king’s men—or the spymaster—and now? Now, they were here. Wherever ‘here’ was. Harper had not quite believed Aedon’s promise that all would be revealed. She looked to him, and something pulled low in her belly as he grinned, mischief sparkling in his eyes, and beckoned her. He had promised her the climb would be worth it, but as beautiful as the pool was, hidden deep within the forested valleys up the foothills of the mountains, it did not seem worthy of a visit. Harper gasped as Aedon disappeared into the cliff. A moment later, his head popped out between fronds of greenery that Harper thought clung to a solid rock face. “Come on!” he called.
She followed him through the vegetation flanked by her companions, pushing the heavy web of ivy aside. A concealed cave sat beyond the fissure illuminated by small patches of light—and darkness beyond. There, the waters that fed the pool babbled across an invisible streambed. It was cooler in the cave, and chills crawled across Harper’s skin. She rubbed her arms, grateful for her cloak. Aedon’s hands and face illuminated before her as he conjured a faelight to guide their way, but as Harper’s eyes adjusted, she realised it was not as inky black as she had first thought. The faintly glowing stream wound into the distance up a slight incline, but tiny motes of light danced down it.
Ahead of their companions, Harper followed Aedon eagerly, though her stomach tingled. Was it with faint apprehension, or the curling of magic deep inside her? She could not tell. In her weeks in Pelenor, since the Dragonheart she found had magically transported her from her homelands to this wondrous and strange place, that tiny seed of energy in the pit of her being had swelled into a trickle of ever-present energy—one that she could feel, but not yet harness.
“Come on,” Aedon urged, and she sped up. The darkness felt inviting, not intimidating, though Harper could not explain why. Ahead, the light grew, as well as a humming sound that Harper could not source, until they stepped into a tall, wide cavern. It held a vast pool that disappeared into the gloom in the distance under the mountains.
Harper could deny it no longer. Glowing specks of light swirled lazily through the water and air—and pure magic formed them. Somehow the motes moved, though the air was still. She tingled with the energy of it all. This place felt like touching Aedon’s raw magic, but a thousandfold more powerful. It had been alluring to feel his shared power coursing through her as he attempted to coax her sleeping elven magic forth, but this was intoxicating .
The hair rose on the back of Harper’s neck, but not from the temperature. It was neither cool nor hot now, but somewhere comfortably in between. No, her senses pricked at the watchful, benevolent presence of something greater that held court there. It was as though the entire cave held its breath with her.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Aedon drew closer. “You’ll see. Follow me.”
To her surprise, he took off his boots and walked toward the water. Picking his way down the rough, rocky shelf, he padded into the shallows. Aedon turned toward her, smiling reassuringly, as his faelight soared lazily above them all, illuminating marble walls, slanted at an angle, that ran with lines of a vibrant rosy colour.
“Take your boots off,” he instructed.
Her attention flicked to the water—too deep to see the bottom after a short distance, nor anything that inhabited it. She clamped down on the rising feeling of panic. He would not ask it of her if it were dangerous, she reasoned, and he was already in the water. She cast her attention over him—utterly at ease. She stepped forwards, despite the seething unease lurking in her belly.
Moments later, her boots stood next to his—and then her cloak atop them. Harper slowly advanced, glancing into the swirling, glowing waters with a frown. Aedon grasped her hand the moment she stepped in, pulling her with him. She gasped, expecting the shock of cold—but it did not come. To her surprise, the water was warm, as comfortable as his hand on hers, and buzzed against her skin.
He strode out farther until submerged to his waist and tugged her with him, so she had no choice but to follow, despite the tingle of fear that now stroked her spine and the catch of her breath as it threatened to stall. The water flowed around her, billowing her shirt, as the fingers of a gentle current tingled across her skin. What lay in the strange waters? It unnerved her to not be able to see her feet or where she stepped. She suppressed visions of sinking into deep, ink-black water, never to be seen again, and fought down the wave of panic clutching at her chest. Aedon grasped her other hand, lacing her fingers through his as he moved to stand before her. Harper blinked away the blackness and focused on his laughing green eyes. The glowing motes bobbed around them, swirling in a sedate dance on their invisible currents.
“Drink it.”
“W-what?” she spluttered.
Aedon’s lips broke into a wide grin as he beheld her confusion with mirth. “Trust me, Harper. Drink it. I promised you all would be revealed.”
Slowly, Harper pulled her hands from his and lowered them into the water. For a long moment, she enjoyed the gentle tug of it passing between her fingers, the sensation grounding her. Each mote of light brought her a slight tingle as they drifted into her in the air and water. Aedon nodded his reassurance.
She cupped the water in her palms, brought it to her mouth, and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened. “It's so sweet!”
Emboldened, Harper took a long draught, draining the liquid in her hands. She cupped them in the water twice, then thrice, savouring the rich sweetness as it tingled down her throat, leaving her stomach full of butterflies. It was a refreshing quench of her thirst after a long ride, soothing her dry mouth and throat—but more than that, this water tasted of energy and life.
“What is it?” she whispered, though she already had an inkling. She had felt the sensation before when Aedon had shared his magic with her. Already, she sensed it bubbling up inside, a spring waiting to burst forth.
“Magic,” he confirmed, and his grin widened. “Welcome to the Well of Life.”
Harper observed her surroundings. Hues of pinks lined the walls as layers of marble, carved by time and water, undulated around them. The water glowed, reflecting a rosy hue, as the golden motes swirled into the depths and distance, and so high above them was the cavern that Harper could not see the ceiling.
“What is this place?” Her voice was hushed, reverent. She knew nothing of this place, but it was clear it was special.
“A Wellspring. One of a few areas where the river of magical energy that flows through the world unseen intersects with the physical plane. This is one such place… A literal spring of magical power.”
It sounded fanciful, but Harper nodded. She could feel the truth of it humming through her.
“For me, it feels like the comfort of coming home, but for you, it is the storm after a drought. Drink. Take your fill.”
She did, hungrily, until her belly hurt from the volume of water and she could take no more. The power building within her welled from the tips of her toes to every hair in her head. Harper realised with a cry that she floated, hovering in the water away from the bed of rock beneath them and now inches taller than Aedon. She flailed in the air, panicking—until Aedon grasped her hands in his to become a reassuring tether to the solid rock below.
He grinned. “Be calm—you are safe, I promise. Magic has missed you, it seems. Allow it to fill you up like an empty vessel.”
Harper closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling of pure energy coursing through her, intense and pleasurable as it welled from her core to her extremities. She laughed with delight as she opened her eyes to realise that her very skin glowed with magic. She splayed her fingers before her, marvelling as golden light arced from each fingertip, bouncing upon the water’s surface to join the swirling dance of magic and energy around them. What was her potential now? With a thrilling rush, she realised the magic at her fingers sparked at the slightest hint of her will.
Her glow was reflected in Aedon, who laughed at her, sharing in her joy—and Brand, Erika, and Ragnar, who watched with smiles from the rocky shelf. Now Harper knew what he spoke of—the truth of it that she had doubted until now. She was no mortal, but of elven blood, and she had magic . Her innate powers, so long slumbering, charged through her like a mount who refused to be contained or tamed. Inside, she could feel it longing to burst free. Her mouth split with a joyous grin to match Aedon’s as she revelled in the power and potential.
More , her body urged. More .
Aedon reeled her in, pulling her back to the rock. Her hands found his shoulders and his slid around her waist. The surprise of his touch shocked her for a moment, for her body felt so overwhelmed by the intensity of the magic swirling through her. She waded away and staggered out of the water to their waiting companions, who watched with curiosity. Despite the strange warmth of the place, Harper’s clothes clung to her with cool wetness.
With half a thought, she wished to be dry. A moment later, all trace of water had vanished from her clothes, leaving her pants as crisp and fresh as the day she had first worn them. Harper gasped.
Aedon chuckled. “Very nicely done.”
“Can I do anything just by thinking it?”
“Not quite. You find yourself blessed by the uncommon bounty here, and that was no doubt an accident of happy chance. You might find yourself able to do the strangest things with a thought, but magic is like a muscle. A thread to pick up and twist and pull, to weave into what you wish. It takes years of honing to become capable of great deeds, and you cannot exceed your own will and strength to perform it. But you can certainly do minor magics with ease now. It’s instinct. You must use it well, however. Magic is not a whim to be used whenever one desires, upon whatever one fancies. With magic comes responsibility,” he warned.
Harper looked to her hands once more, turning them over and back in wonder. She watched as the glow faded into her skin. “Can anyone else do that?” Harper glanced at her companions, who looked toward the exit, hasty to leave, she reckoned, by the way they shifted.
“No, lass,” replied Ragnar. “We could drink from the well, yet it would be nothing more than sweet water that quenched our thirst. Only those of elven blood may take magic from the wellspring.”
“Come,” said Brand. The Aerian warrior towered over them all, though even he was dwarfed by the cavern. “We are still not far enough from Tournai to be safe from the Kingsguard.”
“Nor the elves of Tir-na-Alathea,” Erika warned them, already down the tunnel and scouting the way ahead.
And Dimitrius , Harper added silently. She shivered and hurried after Brand, pushing all thoughts of the raven-haired spymaster from her mind.
Aedon scoffed but followed, chivvying Ragnar and Harper before him. Harper turned for one last look at the cave, trying to imprint the vision of the rose-lined walls, swirling golden motes, and glowing water upon her memory. Never had she seen a place like it before.
She pinched her arm. The nip hurt, and she quickly rubbed the skin to soothe it. No matter how many times she tried it, she still had not woken in her own pallet in Caledan. It’s truly not a dream. This is my life now , she told herself again. Each time, she said it with less regret, thoughts fading of what she had left behind. This time, a thrill ran across her skin, sparked by the magic coursing through her. She had left so little behind after all and found so much. Magic was yet another question she now sought an answer to. With a huge grin, she broke into a jog and bounded after Brand as the gleam of sunlight bloomed ahead.