Wards of Faerie

20

“There’s an airship coming in from the east,” Mirai advised, pointing back toward the Bakrabru airfield from which she had just come. She brushed strands of her blond hair from her face, glancing over her shoulder. “I think it’s flying a Druid flag.”

Redden and Railing leapt to their feet, but Farshaun Req was a little slower to rise. Age played a part in this—he was more than seventy, after all—but mostly it was demonstrative of the way he reacted to almost everything. Slow and measured, no need to hurry, everything in good time. Once on his feet, the other three waiting on him impatiently, he took a moment to stretch limbs cramped from sitting.

For the last two hours he had been engaged in conversation with the twins about ways they might modify their skimmers to make them go faster. No one knew more about building and flying airships than Farshaun. One of the chief reasons the twins had been so eager to accompany Mirai to Bakrabru was the prospect of talking with the old man about their latest project and finding out how he thought they might improve the design.

It was Farshaun, after all, who had taught them to fly airships back when they were just becoming interested in learning but lacked the necessary guidance and skills. Their mother was against their flying anything following the death of their father, but she had relented when it became clear that if she wanted to maintain even a modicum of control over her wild sons she was going to have to toss them a bone now and then. Better that they learn to fly safely before they just threw all caution to the winds and went off on their own. So she had agreed to let them go to the village of their cousins, the Alt Mers and Meridians, to study under the man who was recognized almost everywhere as the premier authority of his time.

“A Druid airship?” he asked Mirai speculatively. “What would a Druid airship be doing all the way over here? Are you sure of what you saw?”

Mirai, who was always sure about everything and didn’t like to be questioned, shrugged. “I could be mistaken.”

She said it in a way that suggested she most certainly wasn’t.

Farshaun smiled. He liked Mirai Leah. She was competent, prepared, cool, and calm in the hottest of situations. He had never seen her ruffled. It didn’t hurt in her business dealings that she was beautiful, too. Certainly Redden and Railing thought so. He wondered suddenly how that intriguing triangle was going to resolve itself—which someday soon, he suspected, it must.

“You are not often mistaken, Mirai,” he offered by way of conceding the point. “Shall we find out what it’s doing in our backyard?”

They departed the shade of the grove of maple trees where the boys and he had been conversing and walked back toward the village and the airfield. Bakrabru wasn’t large, but it did sprawl. Much of this was due to the terrain: a centrally located flat where the airships were built, housed, and launched, and the surrounding hills where the residents of the village—most of whom were engaged in airship construction, maintenance, and usage—made their homes. This mix of trades and lifestyles had marked the history of the village for more than a century. There was some debate over which of the Four Lands produced the finest craftsmen and fliers, but none when it came to naming the Rovers of Bakrabru among the top three. They had constructed airships for the Free-born during the wars on the Prekkendorran, and some among them had even fought in those wars. The Ohmsford brothers could point to several of their own family members whose names were almost legendary, including their great-uncle Redden Alt Mer, for whom Redden was named, and his sister Rue Meridian, their grandfather’s mother and the wife of Bek Ohmsford.

But they were all gone, and it was Farshaun Req who schooled the Ohmsfords of this generation. Schooled Mirai Leah, as well, for that matter. All three of them had been coming to Bakrabru to learn from him for the better part of the last ten years. They were good students and quick studies, sharing an intensity and determination that had enabled them to advance quickly to the front ranks of the best and most able he had ever taught.

The twins were a bit reckless, of course, but even that could be a positive when you were engaged in racing Sprints. He gave them a momentary glance, thinking again how closely they mirrored each other—so closely he couldn’t tell them apart. So far as he knew, no one could, not even Sarys. Only Mirai could make an instant distinction, and no explanation as to why that was so had ever been given, although speculation ran rampant in some quarters.

They crested a rise and caught sight of the shingled roofs of the buildings that marked the westernmost boundary of the village. Bakrabru was one of the first permanent Rover villages, the beginning of a substantial change in a nomadic way of life that before had defined the Rovers as a people. The village was situated inland from the Blue Divide and set close to the western shores of the Myrian. Its location allowed for testing the aircraft assembled by the shipbuilding families both in the air and on water. It was ideally suited for both construction and experimentation, providing the villagers with the flats necessary for situating the sprawling complex of warehouses and hangars used for building and storage, as well as proximity to the lake for docking finished aircraft and the surrounding hill country for protection and escape from raiders.

The need for the latter had never been put to the test because no one in the history of the village could remember anyone ever attacking Bakrabru. No one would want to. The Rovers were engaged in building some of the most deadly airships in the Four Lands, some of which were always kept armed and ready for use. It made better sense to engage them in commerce than war.

“Don’t the Druids ever come here?” Railing asked suddenly.

Farshaun pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Not in the last few years. They don’t often leave Paranor these days. Not unless they are tracking down rumors of lost magic. That’s become their whole purpose in life.”

“So this visit must be important,” Mirai said.

“Must be. Maybe they need a new ship built. We’ve given them good ships over the years. Given them the best.” The old Rover glanced over at her. “Don’t let that get back to the Federation, though. We do business with them, too. Got to keep everyone happy.”

They passed through several clusters of cottages and outbuildings that had been walled away to form compounds built to withstand attack. Most looked a bit unready for such an event, the brick and adobe walls starting to show cracks and the metal hinges on the gates rusted. Farshaun wondered suddenly if they were taking things too much for granted at Bakrabru. Just because no one had ever attacked didn’t mean they couldn’t do so now. All it took was a change of mind, and that was the sort of thing that could happen on a whim.

They were still not within sight of the airfield when the black hull of the Druid airship hove into view, still several hundred feet off the ground as she maneuvered into position for a landing. She was long and sleek, built for speed and maneuverability. Her light sheaths had been trimmed to about half of what she could call on when at full sail and flying for speed. But even the reduced amount of canvas was impressive, and all of them stopped to watch as she came about and gave them full-on views of her elegant lines.

“That’s a beautiful ship,” Redden whispered.

“She should be,” Farshaun declared, giving him a look. “I built her.”

They started walking again, the younger three moving closer to the old man. “For the Druids?” Railing pressed.

“For the Ard Rhys herself. For Khyber Elessedil. She came to me looking for a flagship, one that would stand up to anything the Federation might be flying. Something that would outfly and outperform any other airship, but something, too, that looked so impressive you couldn’t help stopping in your tracks just to admire her.”

“Like we did,” Mirai said, smiling.

“Like you did. Like everyone does when they see her for the first time. She’s the Walker Boh. A warship disguised as something less threatening, but clearly the better craft no matter what she goes up against. The Ard Rhys says she reminds her of the stories of the Druid she’s named for. Can’t say if she’s right or not about that. Building her was my last big effort as a shipwright—the last where I had a hand in everything. After she was done, I let others take the lead and just offered advice when it was needed. I’d done my part. I just wanted to teach.”

“Just to teach, huh?” Redden repeated sarcastically. “Good thing there’s something you can still do.”

Farshaun smiled. “Can do it better than you, too.”

They watched the black hull of the Walker Boh settle earthward and disappear from view. They hurried a bit now, wanting to see who was on board.

When they finally crested the last of the hills in the chain separating them from the airfield, they saw that the Walker Boh had anchored perhaps a dozen feet off the ground, mooring ropes attached to rings screwed into posts that had been buried deep in the earth. A handful of Trolls were bringing down the last of the light sheaths and detaching the radian draws while rope ladders were being lowered over the gunwales. Black-clad Druids were climbing down along with an assortment of others while a clutch of airfield workers gathered around to watch.

Already on the ground and looking around was a striking-looking older woman with Elven features and long, gray-streaked dark hair. She wore the familiar black robes, but unlike the others she bore a silver patch sewn into the left front panel.

When she saw them approaching, her gaze steadied and she started toward them.

“Well, well,” Farshaun said softly. “The Ard Rhys herself.” He raised his hand in greeting. “Something’s afoot.”

With his three young charges in tow, he walked down the hillside to find out what it was.

“Well met, Farshaun Req,” she greeted the old man, extending her hand as she came up to him. She was not as tall or physically imposing as she had seemed from a distance, but she exuded an inner strength and determination that was arresting. She carried herself as if she knew there wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage, and he wasn’t sure at all that it wasn’t so.

“Mistress,” he replied as he took her hand in his own and bowed in deference. It was an odd gesture, one he knew neither the twins nor Mirai had ever seen him make before because it was reserved only for her.

“Are you well?” she asked him, looking into his eyes as if to discern the answer for herself.

He shrugged. “I’m old. But, even so, well enough. And you? I heard you were using the Druid Sleep. Has something happened to wake you?”

“It is the reason I am here.”

“You’ve come to ask for help? A new airship, perhaps?”

“I’ve come to ask for help, yes. But not from you. From these boys.” She turned to Redden and Railing. “These boys who are no longer boys. I haven’t seen them since they were children. Now they’ve grown big enough to be called young men. Can we go somewhere to talk?”

She announced she must speak with Redden and Railing alone, so Mirai and Farshaun would have to go somewhere else until she was finished. Both twins insisted that whatever she had to say to them she could say in front of the other two since they did not keep secrets from one another. But when Khyber suggested she was the one who was keeping all the secrets, and it might be better if things stayed that way, Farshaun beckoned Mirai away with him without arguing, leaving Redden and Railing alone with her.

“I apologize for that,” she said to the twins, “but when you hear what I have to say you might think better of me for keeping this just among the three of us. There is some danger involved just in knowing what I am about to tell you. There is likely to be a great deal more if you decide to accept the offer I intend to make.”

An argument could be made that the word danger was a lure that drew the twins like bees to flowers. They were young and wild and eager for an adventure, and no one had offered them one for a long time. They were instantly intrigued.

She led them up the hillside to a copse of fir and sat them down in a grassy space where they could look out over the airfield and the activity taking place as the Walker Boh, already stripped of her sails and securely moored, now had her radian draws lashed in place. On the ground, her crew of Trolls had begun setting up a staging area for collecting and loading the supplies they required to continue the ship’s journey.

“I went to Patch Run before coming here and spoke with your mother,” the Ard Rhys said. “She didn’t like it that I was looking for you and didn’t want me to involve you in Druid business. She refused at first to tell me where you were. I was straightforward with her about what I was proposing, and because she loves you and worries for you she told me to go away. In the end, I made it clear that finding you was too important for me to do what she was asking. If she wouldn’t help me, I would find you anyway. She relented and told me where you were.”

She paused. “I am telling you this so when you hear it all later from your mother you won’t think I was hiding anything.”

“Mother hates airships,” Redden said quietly. “Because of Father. He was killed in one. She blames the Druids.”

The Ard Rhys nodded. “I know this. There is risk here, as well. When you fly airships, there are always risks. Your mother knows this, but cannot accept it. She blames the Druids for something that was not their fault. It was no one’s fault. You can weigh that along with everything else after you hear what I have to say. Be patient until then. Let me say everything before you speak again.”

She went on to tell of the discovery of Aleia Omarosian’s diary, written in the days of Faerie and lost or misplaced ever since, and of the possibility that the missing Elfstones might at last be found. But they could not allow them to be found by just anyone, she added. The Druid order must recover them because management and proper usage of magic were the order’s responsibility and principal purpose. The reason she was in Bakrabru to speak with them was because of her visit to the Hadeshorn and her summoning of the spirits of the dead in the hope they would give her information that might help in her search.

“It was Allanon himself who appeared—something that I believe indicates the importance of this matter. His shade gave me little enough with which to work, but did make it clear this was an undertaking of great importance. His shade also advised that the Druids alone would not be enough to accomplish what was needed. Others must go with us on this expedition. Specifically, he mentioned you.”

“Railing and me?” Redden exchanged a quick look with his brother.

She nodded, smiling in a way that made her look tired and worried both. “I would not be here if the shade had not been so insistent about it. A reminder was given that every important quest involving magic since the time of Shea Ohmsford and the Warlock Lord has involved members of your family. The shade insisted it must be so this time, as well.”

“But isn’t it true shades aren’t always reliable?” Redden asked carefully.

“It is. They dissemble and prevaricate and offer half-truths to questions asked. But I did not sense that here. The insistence on your involvement was not in response to a question. It was volunteered in a way that made it seem to be mandatory.”

Railing shoved his brother. “What’s wrong with you? We get to fly airships with Druids and go searching for lost magic and you aren’t sure you want to go?”

Redden shoved him back. “I’m just asking a question. I’m not saying I don’t want to go.”

“Well, what are we arguing about? You want to go. I want to go. When do we leave?” Railing looked back at the Ard Rhys. “Isn’t that what the invitation you mentioned earlier is about?”

The Ard Rhys nodded. “It is. I want you to come with us. No, that isn’t putting it strongly enough. I need you to come with us. Allanon’s shade made that clear. Without you, we diminish the chances of success. But I don’t want you to make a decision blindly or in haste. I want you to think about it carefully. I want you to talk it over between yourselves and perhaps Farshaun and then sleep on it afterward before you make a final decision.”

She paused. “There’s one other thing I haven’t told you. Allanon’s shade also said it sensed this expedition would be very dangerous. Not all of us, it said, would come back alive. I believe that is probably true. Hunting for something as powerful as the Elfstones will attract dangerous enemies. The young woman who discovered the diary has already been attacked three times in her home city of Arborlon. Aphenglow Elessedil is my cousin, a member of the royal family, and a skilled magic user. Even these weren’t enough to protect her. Someone else already knows what we seek or guesses at its importance. It won’t stop with Aphenglow. We can expect to have to fight for our lives and for the success of our quest at other times and places along the way. There’s no use pretending otherwise. That isn’t something you should ignore. The Druids accepted that risk when they chose to join the order. This isn’t so in your case. You have no obligation to put yourselves in danger.”

Redden exchanged another glance with Railing. “We aren’t afraid. We can take care of ourselves.”

“We’ve been taking care of ourselves since Father died,” Railing added quickly. “Farshaun could tell you.”

“I imagine so.” She got to her feet. “Why don’t you go talk to him now about what I’ve told you. If you are willing to come with us, then we want you. The invitation has been extended.”

“Will Farshaun be coming?” Redden asked impulsively. “Wouldn’t he be someone who could help with the airship if there was trouble?”

“What about Mirai?” Railing was quick to add. “She could help, too. She’s been flying airships since she was ten years old. She’s better at it than we are. We know Sprints and racing, but Mirai knows all about the big airships.”

“She’s a Leah, you know,” Redden cut back in. “There’s always been a Leah, too, on those quests you mentioned. On most of them, anyway. She should go if we do.”

Khyber Elessedil shook her head slowly. The lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth deepened, suggesting for the first time that even the Druid Sleep could do only so much to keep aging at bay. “Maybe you have looked after yourselves since your father’s death and can protect yourselves if the need arises. But can you protect Mirai, as well? You have the power of the wishsong to call upon. Mirai Leah does not. You should consider what that means.”

The twins watched her walk back down toward the airfield, waiting for her to reach the flats before climbing to their feet.

“She’s right, you know,” Redden said quietly. “About Mirai.”

Railing didn’t answer.

They found her at Farshaun’s house, a small cottage nestled in the southern fringes of the village, set alone in a grove of old-growth hardwoods canopied overhead by a vast umbrella of branches and leaves that left the cottage dappled with shadows and sunlight. She was sitting on Farshaun’s tiny porch, watching him braid a lanyard that he intended to use as a sling for his conch shell, a summoning horn used by Rover airmen to alert one another to danger or to call for help in times of trouble. The Rovers had begun using them only recently and had found them a better tool than shouts or message birds when a swift response was necessary.

The twins walked up and sat down with the girl and the old man, and Mirai looked at them and immediately said, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” said Railing.

“Everything,” said Redden.

Then they recounted what the Ard Rhys had told them—the purpose for her coming to find them, the nature of the quest she was proposing, the extent of the danger it presented, their mother’s efforts to keep them from going and Khyber Elessedil’s efforts to persuade them to come anyway. Because even if she was telling them to consider things carefully, to think it all over before deciding, she clearly believed it was necessary for them to make the journey.

“The missing Elfstones,” Farshaun mused when the twins had finished. “That would be something, if they could be found. I think everyone decided a long time ago they were lost forever and wouldn’t be seen again.”

“What do they do?” Railing asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone knows. That’s what I mean. Find the Elfstones and you find the answer to one of the greatest secrets of all time. Of course, maybe you open a can of worms instead. Finding magic of that sort could be the most dangerous thing ever to happen.”

“But less dangerous for the Druids to find them than some others,” Redden said.

“Maybe so. But we won’t know until it happens. Things like this have a way of coming back to bite you. I’m just saying what you already know, all three of you. What seems like a good idea at the time can turn out to be a bad one looking back at it later.”

“What will you do?” Mirai asked.

Redden shook his head. “We’re supposed to think it over and make a decision. Railing’s already made up his mind. He wants to go. I guess maybe I do, too. But maybe Farshaun has a point. This feels like one of those things we might decide later on was a mistake.”

“Except this time making the wrong decision could kill you,” she said quietly. “Your mother might be right about not wanting you to go.”

“You always take her side,” Railing griped. “If we did everything Mother told us to do we’d never do anything. We’d never go anywhere or see anything or fly airships or …”

“I get the point,” she interrupted. “But we’re not talking about the way you live the rest of your life. We’re talking about if you live it. Pay attention to what’s on the table.”

“She’s right,” Redden agreed.

Railing gave him a look, then turned to Farshaun. “What do you think?”

The old man shrugged. “I’m not about to tell you what to do in this business. I can see the argument for both sides. You’re big boys; you can decide for yourselves. You don’t need any help from me or Mirai.”

Mirai made a face. “I wonder.”

“If it were you, Farshaun, would you go?” Railing pressed.

Farshaun laughed. “I don’t know. What does it matter? No one has asked me to go. This has to do with you, not me.”

“But what if you were asked?”

“I’d think about it, like you’re supposed to do, and I wouldn’t spend my time trying to find out what someone else would do! Especially an old man whose best years are behind him. Now get out of here, the two of you. Go!”

He chased them from his cottage and stood watching until they were out of sight.

“Cranky old toad,” Railing muttered.

“He just doesn’t want to make the decision for us. He doesn’t want to have to live with the responsibility.”

“I notice he kept Mirai with him.”

“He doesn’t want her to have to live with it, either.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What are you going to do?”

They walked on, undecided.

They went to bed that night with the matter unresolved. They were sleeping on Farshaun’s back porch in hammocks, the air warm and sweet, the night sounds soft and distant. They had gone over the pros and cons of staying and going until they couldn’t stand to think about it anymore, all without reaching a decision. Mirai had quit talking to them. Farshaun had ordered them to leave any further discussion outside his front door. Redden and Railing had grown weary talking about it and getting nowhere. Dinner that evening had been a desultory experience, and in the end they had eaten almost nothing.

There had been no further sign of the Ard Rhys. She had not come to them again. She had not asked them to visit the airship to look around, which they would have dearly loved to do. She had not sent any of the other Druids to talk to them. The entire ship’s company had gone back aboard and stayed there.

Redden lay cocooned in his hammock, wrapped up and motionless. Railing was sitting on the porch steps, his blanket draped carelessly over one shoulder, staring out at the night. Inside the cottage, Farshaun was snoring.

“Can’t sleep?” Redden asked from his hammock.

Railing glanced over his shoulder. “Not a wink. You?”

“Not much.”

They were silent for a few minutes, the snores inside changing pitch and cadence.

“I’m going,” Railing said suddenly. “I have to. If I don’t, I’ll wonder about it for the rest of my life.” He paused. “But I don’t want to do this without you.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to. I’m going, too.” Redden raised himself up, causing the hammock to sway. “Because I think the Ard Rhys is right. Finding those Elfstones is important. If we can help, like she seems to think we can, then we have to do so.”

They went quiet again for a bit. It was decided, Redden thought. Just like that. Both of them had come to the same conclusion. Amazing, but that’s how they were.

“You’re not going without me,” Mirai said from the doorway.

The twins looked around in surprise as she stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, her long hair unbound, her blanket wrapped around her.

“How long have you been there?” Redden asked.

“Hours. Sitting just inside the doorway, watching you, thinking. I don’t know if you should do this, but I do know that you shouldn’t do it without me.”

“We’ll have to send someone to tell Mother,” Railing pointed out.

Redden cleared his throat. “I’m glad it won’t be me.”