Chapter 7
T he first twitter of birds awoke Snow to morning light streaming through her window. When she returned that night, she hadn’t drawn the curtains closed. Opening her eyes, she saw Annilen still curled into a tight ball on the pillow next to her. The poor little sprite must have been exhausted from the previous night’s excitement.
Snow yawned and stretched and tried hard not to disturb her sleeping friend as she came to a sitting position. It was only then she realized she still wore her dressing gown over her nightdress. She hadn’t bothered to remove it when she returned for the night.
As she sat there, drawing up her knees to her chest, she thought of what Faradill told her. That the darkness had crept into the forest and would be back. A cold shiver of fear danced down her spine. Did that mean the darkness would be returning for her?
She didn’t know.
There was something else bothering her. The voice in her head that said I am coming for you. She recalled that with a sort of trepidation and was unable to shake a sense of foreboding resonating through her. The only thing she knew for certain was the voice sounded female.
A terrifying thought came to her. Was Seraphina the one? Did she know she lived in the forest with the elves?
Annilen stirred next to her with a yawn and a sigh. “Good morrow, my lady.”
“Good morrow, my friend,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.” Indeed, the forest sprite looked well rested as she climbed to her feet and walked down the pillow, leaving tiny footprints behind. She hopped down and then craned her neck to look up at Snow. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”
Snow held her hand down to the little sprite. Annilen stepped into her palm, allowing her to bring her to eye level.
“I’m glad you were safe with me,” she said. But even as she said it, she chewed her lower lip.
“Something troubles you, my lady?” she asked, sensing her distress.
“It’s just that…” She paused, trying to choose her next words. “Faradill said the darkness was here and would be returning. Do you think it’s true?”
Annilen cocked her head to one side as she considered. A thoughtful look creased her tiny features. “I don’t know, my lady. But Faradill is old and wise.”
Which meant Snow should heed his warning. Perhaps she should stay within the confines of the village, safe behind the protective magic of the elves. That went against who she was at her core.
“It has been many years since such a darkness has touched our forest,” Annilen said, almost as an afterthought. As though she remembered something.
Snow lifted a brow in question. “What do you mean?”
She tapped her chin with her forefinger, a thoughtful look crossing her features. “There is a legend about a wizard. A dark wizard who lived somewhere in these woods.”
“I’ve heard no such tale,” she said.
“It was a long time ago before you came to live with us,” Annilen said. “I don’t recall the story. All I do remember is that the elves cast him out.”
“What happened to him after that?” she asked.
Annilen shrugged. “No one knows.” With that, she launched into the air, her wings fluttering behind her. “I must be off, my lady.”
“Of course.”
Snow slipped out of bed and padded to the window where she opened it. Annilen bid her farewell and fluttered off into the early morning. As she watched the little sprite disappear, Snow wondered about the wizard. Perhaps there was some mention of him in the elven archives. Perhaps she needed to find out what she could about this dark wizard. She didn’t know if the shadow creature was connected to him, but she had to find out.
She pulled on a dress and crept to her bedroom door, listening for movement in the cottage. When she heard none, she opened the door. She expected to see Yirrie hard at work baking for tonight’s festival. Now was her chance to slip out and go to the elven archives.
As she hurried to the door, though, Yirrie’s voice stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
Snow turned to see her standing in her bedroom doorway, her hands fisted on her hips and a look of dismay on her face. There was no sense in lying to her. She’d eventually find out anyway.
“I’m going to the archives.”
Yirrie dropped her arms to her side. The dismay was replaced with confusion. “Why?”
“There’s something I need to look up,” Snow said.
“I need your help with the baking today,” Yirrie said, a warning note in her tone.
“I won’t be long. I promise.” Snow reached for the knob.
“You aren’t going to leave the village, are you?” There was a hint of worry in her voice.
Snow froze, her hand on the knob. She didn’t dare turn to face her because she feared her expression of guilt would give her away. Yirrie had a sense about things and likely already knew Snow had slipped out last night.
“No. I’m just going to the archives.” She kept her voice steady and strong. “I’ll be back soon.”
Before Yirrie replied, she stepped out into the fresh morning. Closing the door behind her, she hurried across the village to the edge where the archives were housed. It looked small on the outside, but that was merely an optical illusion. Inside, there were rows and rows and rows of books and scrolls documenting the history of the elves in the Wyldwood Forest. They had been here for hundreds of years and every detail about every harvest, seasonal festival, births, deaths, and other events were penned for historical reference.
Snow had only been there once with Elator when she was a small girl. She hadn’t been back since. She didn’t know if she would be able to access the archives since she wasn’t an elf, but she had to try.
When she entered, the bell on the door tinkled to announce her arrival. The entryway was a small, tidy room with nothing more than a desk in the center and a closed door on either side leading to the massive collection.
The Master of Archives was one of the Elders named Harwin. No one was quite sure how old he was. He’d been Master for as long as anyone could remember. The left door opened and he shuffled out, his long silver hair unkempt as though he’d just rolled out of bed. His clothes were wrinkled like he’d slept in them. He had a red mark on one side of his face as though he’d fallen asleep in one of his books. Perhaps he had. He was known for never leaving the archives unless he absolutely had to.
“Ah, Snow,” he greeted. “What brings you here?” He stifled a yawn as he hobbled to the desk, leaning his elbows heavily on it and peering at her through pale blue eyes.
“I’m sorry for the early hour, Master,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He stood straight, smoothing a hand over his disheveled hair.
“Did you fall asleep reading?” she asked, and gave him a smile, hoping to win him over.
He looked abashed. “Is it obvious?”
“Not terribly.” She grinned. “I have a request. I was hoping you could help me.”
He ran a hand over his smooth chin as he considered her. “You can’t see the archives.”
It was almost as though he’d guessed her request. She tried not to frown. “Because I’m not one of you.”
“Well…”
It occurred to her that if anyone knew the story of the dark wizard exiled from the Wyldwood, Master Harwin would. An idea struck her.
“Then if you won’t let me in to see the books,” she said, “at least answer a question or two for me?” She moved closer to the desk so only the large piece of furniture separated them.
One silvery brow lifted in intrigue. “I heard what happened last night at the festival. Does it have to do with that?”
Of course, Harwin wasn’t at the festival. He was too absorbed in his histories and diaries and logbooks to join the festivities. He lost track of time and simply forgot the revelry had begun. Something about that was endearing. She wished she could allow herself to get lost in the magic of the forest and never have to worry about joining in parties that made her feel as though she were an outcast.
Because she was an outcast. As long as she lived with the elves, she would always be an outcast.
“No,” she answered. Then, “Well, perhaps. What can you tell me about the dark wizard?”
He stared at her a long, quiet moment. Curiosity faded from his eyes and was replaced with concern.
“Where did you hear about him?”
Not everyone knew Snow had a connection to the forest and the creatures who resided within it. She had to choose her words carefully. “Someone mentioned him to me in passing.”
“No one mentions the dark wizard in passing, my dear. Come with me.”
He waved her around the desk, then headed for the door on the right. The opposite door from which he’d entered.
She followed him. her heart doing a little excited dance as she stepped through the threshold behind him. When she was inside, he closed the door behind her.
She was in a large living room with well-worn furniture—a sofa, two chairs, a low table between them. A thick rug covered the hardwood floors. On the other side of the room was a small kitchen with enough space for a table with high-backed chairs. A curving wooden staircase led to a loft with a bed that looked as though it had not been slept in.
This was the Master’s living quarters. Small and sparse yet cozy. The other door must lead to the actual archives with the rows and rows of books. She wished she could see it.
He lumbered to the small kitchen, filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil. Then he got down two cups from the overhead cupboard. He placed loose tea leaves in each one. While he waited for the water to boil, he turned back to her and waved her to one of the chairs at the table.
“Please,” he said.
Snow realized it was quite an honor to be here with the Master of Archives, in his home, while he made tea. Some bit of apprehension went through her as she realized the mention of the dark wizard must mean serious business.
She perched on the edge of the chair as the kettle whistled. He poured the water, making them both a cup of steaming tea, then headed to the table where he plunked her mug in front of her. With a grunt, he slid into the chair opposite her, the cup held between his aged hands.
“Now that we have tea, perhaps you tell me what you know of the dark wizard.”
“Only that he lived somewhere in these woods and the elves cast him out.” She gripped the cup between her hands, the warmth seeping into her palms.
He considered her a long moment. “What does this have to do with what happened to you?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I wondered if there was a connection between the two.”
“Very well, I’ll tell you the story.” He took a sip of tea and sat back in his chair. “Many years ago, there was a man who lived on the western edge of the forest. He had a cottage there. He had no wife and no children. We were aware of his existence, but since he never seemed to venture far from his home, we let him be.
“But one day, things began to happen. The trees came alive. The forest inhabitants seemed to have a mind of their own. Sprites and gnomes and pixies appeared when they had never lived here before. Flowers bloomed when they shouldn’t. Trees died when they should have lived. It rained while the sun was out. All manner of odd things.”
He paused, taking another sip of his tea.
“Was that because of the wizard?” she asked.
He nodded. “Though we elves tried to ignore him, we discovered he was using his power to control these creatures, the weather, the surrounding nature in which he lived. And then he decided to use it as a weapon.”
Snow stared at him, stunned. In all her years connecting to nature around her, it had never been mentioned. Surely, Faradill would remember such a thing happening. Unless he was merely a sapling at the time.
“He built an army using all manner of things from the forest. The living creatures, the trees, the flowers, everything. He became drunk on his power. He wanted to expand his domain, which meant he wanted to eradicate the elves and their home to make way for his new one. It did not go well for him.”
He paused again to sip his tea.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“We banded together. Light against dark. There was a great battle within the forest. But it was Tasnia who used her power to send him away, casting him out and forbidding him to return.”
“What happened to him after that?” she asked.
“He disappeared. But he left behind his mark on the forest. We finally learned how to use our elemental power to make peace with the forest and all the creatures within it.”
And she, in turn, learned how to connect with nature as well. She, too, had that elemental power. She would never use that power for evil, though.
“When he was expelled, we were determined to protect our village woods with our own magic and keep out any other magic.”
“That seems selfish,” she said.
He chuckled. “Perhaps it is. But it has been that way for years. We’ve kept the peace and kept our people safe. Recent events have reminded us of the dangers of other magic.” He gave her a pointed look.
She understood what he meant. Safe from dark wizards and other magic. The elven magic Tasnia and the Elders used to surround the village would, no doubt, keep out whatever darkness lurked beyond the borders of their small village.
Still thinking of the dark wizard, she asked, “Do you think he was destroyed?”
“No one knows for certain. He never returned to the Wyldwood. Even if he wanted to return, he couldn’t because elven magic would never allow it. After he was gone, we searched the wizard’s isolated cabin and discovered he had magical items there he used to help him control nature. We took them and hid them away.”
Intrigued, she asked, “What sort of magical items?”
He smiled, his lips thinning.
“Ah. You can’t tell me. I understand.”
The elves held their secrets closely guarded. She would have to find out another way. She did wonder if the wizard’s home still stood. She smiled, then met his sharp blue gaze.
She had more questions, but she didn’t want to take more of his time and she really did have to get back home to help Yirrie with the festival baking. She took a healthy swig of the warm tea and slid off the chair.
“Thank you for your time and the tea.”
“Leaving already?” he asked.
“Yes, I have to get back.”
Harwin moved off the chair and followed her to the door. “Did you get the answers you were seeking?”
Though she hadn’t, she said, “You’ve been quite helpful.”
As she left the Master’s home, she had more questions than answers.