AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Most of them, yes. But the one about the beast fae and the third text came from a scribe in Mevia.”
“Where’s the third text?” asked Keffa.
I brightened, happy there was no vagueness at all in that one. It told us exactly where to find the third god-touched text. “Solzkin’s Heart.”
“Fucking hells. Now we have to go into shadow fae lands?” Soryn looked more annoyed and grumblier than before. “They’re worse than dealing with the beast fae.”
“That is certain,” griped Goll, glancing at me yet again like it was my fault we had to go there.
Well, I suppose it was. I simply smiled back.
Goll shook his head and turned to Morgolith. “Do you think any will be on guard as far down the mountain as Solzkin’s Heart?”
“It’s possible. That’s well within their lands.”
“Fuck,” cursed Soryn.
“Language, Soryn,” growled Goll, which only made me smile since he certainly didn’t worry about his own coarse language in front of me. And Soryn had been cursing up a storm since he’d first heard we were heading into beast fae lands.
“But this one here…” Bozlyn looked up at me, his orange irises shining by the firelight as he pointed at the last vision I’d scribed in my book. “Where did it come from? Why did you copy it?”
I blinked down, remembering. “We had traveled to Myrkovir Forest for the Fall Solstice. Baelynn had thought it a sign of good will if we attended on my twentieth year. The war had begun to encroach farther south, and the wood fae who reside there were becoming afraid.”
Keffa shifted uncomfortably near the fire. I didn’t need to explain that the wood fae feared the wraith fae invading our lands.
“We passed through a village on the edge of the forest, the homes in the trees decorated with lights for the celebration. I stopped our caravan at one inn that appeared more beautiful than the others, a table of sweet squash pies there for the offering. As Baelynn, the guardsmen, and I enjoyed the pies and music, there were two wood fae sisters serving us. The inn was their father’s. He talked to Baelynn, while his daughters did the serving. But I found it peculiar that one sister didn’t look like a wood fae.”
“How do you mean?” asked Bozlyn, his intensity more earnest as I told the story.
“She had the white hair”—I touched my own hair trailing over my shoulder— “and the violet eyes of a moon fae. But she had no wings.”
“A half-breed,” commented Soryn.
“Yes. Undoubtedly.”
I didn’t know if she’d had a different father or a mother from her sister, but the sisters seemed fond of one another of what I’d observed that day.
“As their villagers played music and danced in front of the inn,” I continued, “I’d taken to rest near a large oak tree where the white-haired sister leaned and watched the merriment. Her name was Murgha,” I remembered.
She was a sweet-faced, kind fae with a soft voice.
“We talked for a time about the harvest, how it had been a good year despite the rumblings of war. She told me their village was likely to leave for a while.” I recalled the look of wonder come over her face as she gazed up at the moon shining through the branches of the oak trees. “Then she told me she needed to tell me something though she wasn’t sure why. Her eyes went glassy, and she spouted that vision right there.”
Bozlyn looked back down at the page. But it was Goll who spoke first when he commanded, “Read it, Bozlyn.”
The elder wraith fae cleared his throat then read, “The world will wail for many seasons and many reasons. Sickness, rebellion, and madness will prevail. Then the dark will steal the light, setting the pale world right. The beast will catch the water maid, foiling plans the rebel laid. And the shadow will swallow the secret queen when true evil is freed. This will come to pass, or all will fall. All will fail. And the gods die with the living.”
No one said a word, then Soryn huffed a breath. “Well, that sounds promising,” he snarked.
Goll shifted away from the fireplace. “Look, we know the gods spout their wills and their woes all day long through oracles. Some come to fruition. Some do not. Some are important. Some are not. Right now, all I’m interested in is packing up and heading to Vanglosa so we can get what we need and then get the hell back here. Morgolith”—he turned to the barrel-chested giant—“you’re coming with us. If we have to deal with any of the shadow fae, I’ll need you there.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Keffa and Soryn, prepare the Culled. Then everyone get some sleep. We ride out early in the morning.”
They all grumbled assent and headed for the door. Goll seemed agitated. My need to console him drove me closer to him. Then the doors opened.
“Speaking of oracles,” Keffa called back, stepping aside to allow Dalya to walk through the door.
