Chapter Nineteen STAG NIGHT Keir
Chapter Nineteen
STAG NIGHT
Keir
Keir had just found out Charlotte had been missing when she returned.
The entire town had come out into the street to see the arrival of the spriggan, and Keir had almost missed her in his rush to get up the mountain after her.
“She’s there, Keir, look!” Alison was pointing to the spriggan’s shoulder, and sure enough, there was his sister, smiling and waving down at the crowd like royalty.
“And is that…Julian?”
Julian was clinging to the spriggan’s neck, a branch wrapped around his waist, holding him upright.
“Here is good,” said Charlotte from twenty feet in the air. “Julian needs to see my brother. Thanks for the ride!”
The spriggan gently lowered them both to the ground. Keir rushed to Charlotte first, but she directed him to Julian’s ankle.
“I’m here for the wedding,” said the spriggan as Keir examined Julian’s range of movement and pain level.
“It’s tomorrow,” said Alison. “At the town hall.”
“Very good,” said the spriggan. “I’ll plant right here.
” Keir had to look up from Julian’s ankle to see what was going on.
The spriggan stood in a patch of grass near the market square and extended roots down.
Then he stood in place, looking for all intents and purposes like an ordinary tree. An ordinary tree with a face.
“What a town!” cried Alison’s mother, hiccoughing.
“Mum, how many pints have you had?” said Alison, leading her mother back inside.
“The ankle isn’t broken,” said Keir. “But it’ll take a bit of time to heal. You’d do best with a crutch. I have one at the house.”
“But I’m needed on my feet. There are wedding cakes to make,” said Julian.
Keir looked at Charlotte. What was she playing at this time? “What happened to Mrs. Knox?”
“She was called away on an urgent message from her sister. Julian has agreed to help me. Don’t worry. We can do it.”
The last time Keir had spoken to Charlotte about Julian, they were completely at odds, and she was furious about it. He must have missed something, but that wasn’t a rare occurrence on its own.
“Isn’t there something you can do?” asked Charlotte. “Some magic?”
Keir sighed. Alison wasn’t nearby, and she’d never tried direct healing magic before anyway. Keir himself had, but it been the disaster that had resulted in the vine that nearly swallowed the town.
He knew what he would have said a year ago before he’d met Alison. Absolutely not. It’s far too dangerous, and it probably won’t work anyway.
But he’d felt the magic when Alison wielded it.
He had even wielded it himself to save his own life at Winwold College.
He didn’t fully understand it, and maybe he never would, but he had felt its limits.
Felt the will that had denied him before.
Whatever force lay beneath it, it could be bargained with. Persuaded.
Idris had told him it was a negotiation, but Keir hadn’t understood what he was offering in the bargain. But as he looked at his sister, he knew what he needed to offer it.
It was a part of himself that he offered. A vulnerable, humble part of himself that understood that there were things in this world beyond explanation, and that if those things would take what they needed from him, he might be given something in return.
Keir turned to Julian’s ankle. It was a simple sprain; one of the outer ligaments was likely pulled, maybe even torn very slightly. It would heal on its own within a few weeks.
Or it could heal right this moment. It wasn’t complex. The ligament just needed to stitch itself back together, like pulling together threads to sew a wound shut. Keir visualize sewing it shut with an invisible needle.
“Is it working?” asked Charlotte.
“Shh,” said Keir. “Let me concentrate.”
He felt in his chest for the place the magic came from. It was harder to find without Alison nearby, but just the thought of her led him to it. He imagined pulling the magic from that place and threading it onto a needle.
When he pulled, the magic resisted slightly. He pulled back quickly, feeling the panic come over him. Was he doing the wrong thing again? Would this backfire and end up hurting them all?
He felt Alison approaching without even turning to see her, the magic in him sensing the magic in her.
“Keir’s trying to heal Julian’s ankle,” explained Charlotte, seeing Alison’s confusion. “With magic.”
Alison was surprised. “Do you need my help?” she asked.
“Maybe,” said Keir. “I know what needs to be done. But I’m not sure how to ‘negotiate,’ as Idris calls it.”
“Open yourself to it,” said Alison. “Let it feel your fear and doubt. Don’t try to hide it. It’s okay to be afraid. Let yourself feel it, and then move on to making it better.”
Keir was afraid, but he trusted Alison more than anything in the world. He tried again, feeling for the magic within him. There it was, stronger now with Alison near him. He pulled on it again, just a thread. He felt the resistance and the fear it caused him. He sent the fear into the magic.
And then he sent in Alison’s reassurance. The relief of her presence. The comfort of her touch.
The magic released for him. It was his magic, not Alison’s, and though he felt her love and support through their bond, he felt that the power was his alone to control.
Slowly, carefully, he threaded an invisible needle in his mind. Even more slowly, he stitched the tear in Julian’s ankle together. The magic had made it visible to him somehow, not as an image but as a feeling. He could feel when it was made whole.
“Gods, it doesn’t hurt at all,” said Julian. “Look, the swelling is gone. Unbelievable.”
“Amazing,” said Alison, kissing Keir on the cheek. “You’re a healer.”
“You’re going to be the most popular doctor in Wilderise,” said Charlotte. “Thanks for the help.”
“Be careful on it for a few days,” called Keir, but Julian was already practically running to his shop, with Charlotte close behind him. “I don’t know if it will last.”
“I don’t think they care,” said Alison.
“What was that about?” said Idris, coming out of the inn. “You were supposed to be getting ready for the party. The carriage is heading to Fossholm any minute now.”
“I’m so proud of you,” said Alison. “I’ll see you tonight when you get back?”
“If I get back,” said Keir.
Idris had an entire route planned out for Keir’s stag night. They started at a distillery just outside of Fossholm. The elf who owned it was thrilled to share his pride and joy with the prince, a 250-year single malt whiskey.
“None of the fire, all of the warmth,” said the elf.
“We need a bit of fire too,” said Idris, although he didn’t decline the ancient drink. “In fact, I prefer it.”
“Of course, your highness. How about a trip through time? We can start with our youngest, the twelve-year. She’s a feisty lass.”
Keir worried about drinking so much the night before his wedding, but he knew if he mentioned it to Idris, the prince would make sure he drank even more. He took only a sip from each glass, tipping out the remainder into a potted plant when no one was looking.
Even from just a sip, Keir found he had a taste for the oldest, most expensive whiskies that they tried. But he was in luck: in honor of the patronage of Prince Idris and his upcoming nuptials, he was gifted a 100-year bottle that cost a ludicrous 500 gold ordinarily.
The next stop was the inn in Fossholm, the one they’d frequented in the summer when they were scheming to stop the construction of the dam.
There, they shared several pitchers of beer and a dinner of roasted meats and hearty vegetables, all of it dripping with butter.
It was by no means a healthy meal, but Keir was grateful to have something in his belly to soak up all the booze.
Then they went to a new establishment up the High Street: a public house that had recently opened in hopes of capitalizing on the king’s investment in Wilderise.
Its specialty was gins; Keir found them more dangerous than the whiskies as they were far easier to drink.
At least the addition of tonic water made them marginally healthier, although they were unlikely to encounter malaria this far north.
By the time they boarded the carriages back to Wilderise to visit the inn there as the last stop, Keir was well and truly off his gourd despite his best efforts to moderate his drinking.
He wasn’t alone: Leo was singing Gallic songs entirely by himself that Yordin was dancing to; Duncan and Nigel were kissing, heavily; and Brytak and Idris were throwing coins out of the carriage for the “fairies,” which were nowhere to be seen.
Only Weyland seemed to have retained any sense, possibly due to his size advantage on the rest of them, but even he belched loudly a few times.
When they arrived at the inn in Herot’s Hollow, Julian was just arriving.
“Wedding cakes down?” said Keir. He was impressed by how sober he sounded. Maybe he wasn’t as bad off as he’d thought.
“Down?” asked Julian. “Oh, you meant ‘done.’ Yes, for the most part. The last bits of decorating will be done in the morning.”
“Join us!” yelled Idris. He put his arm around Julian’s neck. “This one is getting hitched,” he said, grabbing Keir by the neck with his other arm.
Julian laughed. “I know. I’ve spent the last several hours making his cake with his sister.”
“Oh, right,” said Idris. “Well, you’ve earned a drink. Cheers!”
Keir had no idea what Idris thought he was toasting with: his hand was empty.
“Come on,” said Keir. “Let’s get inside before they throw us out of town.”
“Who’s gonna do that?” slurred Idris. “I’m—hic—the prince.”
“Maybe him,” said Leo, pointing to a squat dwarf running their way in a constable’s uniform.
“Stop right there, Craig! I see you. You won’t get away.” The dwarf was chasing someone, or trying to, at least. He was barely moving faster than a walk. “Lord Wexenas! He’s getting away.”
Keir had heard that name before—the constables from Fossholm that had bothered Alison about the stolen ink. And he knew the other name as well—Mr. Craig, the thatcher who tried to get her to overpay for her roof repair, who was wanted for a similar crime.
“There,” said Brytak. “He’s across the river. Heading down Orchard Lane.”
The dwarf constable was going to lose him, that was for sure. And then he’d be on Keir’s property somewhere.
That just wouldn’t do.
“Let’s get him, boys!” yelled Keir, leading the group in a run across the river.
They caught up to the constable nearly immediately, overtaking him as he objected to their interference. “Stop! This is a matter for the law!”
“I am the law,” yelled Idris. “Stop, thief! Your prince—hic—commands it!”
They ran past him, gaining on Mr. Craig, who realized he was trapped in a wall-lined lane with nowhere to go but over a gate.
He chose Alison’s gate to jump—that was the wrong choice.
“You will not harm my bride,” yelled Keir. “Get back here, you cur!”
Inside Alison’s property, there weren’t many good options. The orchards and fields were bare and offered no cover. His only choices were the woods beyond and the hedge maze, and he chose wrong again.
“He’s in the maze!” yelled Keir.
Keir knew Alison’s maze well by now. It only had a couple of turns, and even without seeing which way he’d went, he knew how to stop him.
“Idris!” Keir reached back for Idris’s hand. He felt the surge of the prince’s magic, which he directed at the hedges, forcing them to grow over and close the only other exit.
A young elf in a constable’s uniform was right behind them. Lord Wexenas, Keir presumed.
“Stand back, we’ll take it from here. Tirrin, I’ve got him,” said the elf. “Gods, it’s you, my Lord. My apologies,” he said, spotting Keir. And then he saw the man beside Keir. “Oh. Your royal highness. Oh, heavens help me.”
Lord Wexenas fainted.
They had just closed in on Mr. Craig when Tirrin, the dwarf constable, finally arrived.
“I’ve got him,” said Tirrin. “Thanks for the assist, boys. I can take it from here.”
“And what of this one?” asked Idris, tapping the unconscious Lord Wexenas with his shoe.
“He’ll be fine,” said Keir, bending to check.
“Would one of you mind hauling him back to the inn?” said Tirrin as he tied Mr. Craig’s wrists. “I’ve got my hands full.”
Weyland threw Lord Wexenas over his shoulder, and they followed him from the maze as Idris reopened the other exit.
“Someone’s been practicing their magic,” he said to Keir.
“I’m sorry for taking some of your power,” Keir replied. They were old friends, but perhaps stealing each other’s magic was a level of intimacy they didn’t share yet. “I panicked.”
“Don’t be. I’m not sure I could’ve aimed it straight if you had asked. I probably would’ve grown a second hedge maze on top of the first one.”
As they headed back towards the street, they found Alison’s entire hen-night party standing outside the back of her cottage, come to see what all the commotion was about.
“We caught the thief!” yelled Idris.
“Hi, Alison. I love you,” yelled Keir. All the running and the magic had him really feeling it now. “Idris, did you know that I love her?”
“Shut it, you. You’ll put her off you,” said Idris. “Have fun, girls!”
“We will,” said Rinka.
“Have fun and be careful,” called Alison after them.
She was such a gem. Just one more night, and they’d belong to each other forever.