Chapter Ten

“MAVERUS,” BEIRACH WHISPERED, RISING TO STAND between me and Bissori. Tezen wiggled free from my armor, drenched to the bone, her wings flat on her back as she kneeled on my shoulder, growling softly. “I hoped it would not be you I found here.”

Maverus flicked his hood back. We all gasped at the sight, for he was not wholly elf or human or even of this world. His skin clung to his skull, his blue eyes so much like his father’s radiating no kindness or playfulness as I had witnessed in Beirach’s gaze time and again. His skull was free of hair but covering his scalp were markings from the depths, sigils that I had only the vaguest knowledge of. Maverus glowered at his father, his sight never wavering from the archdruid bracing himself. For what we did not know yet, but I suspected the necromancer floating before us was not here for a reconciliation.

“Hope in one hand and spit in the other and tell me which fills up the fastest.” Maverus spat on the ground. The icy rock sizzled as if a hot iron had been placed on it. I sat on my heels, stunned and terrified, my gaze flicking from the dark mage to the odd little raven statue he had placed so tenderly on the cold ground. The bird had been in mid-flight, its wings spread wide when it had been chiseled from granite. “I had hoped that you or your bitch goddess would save my mother, but neither of you did, so I had to do it myself. A rather ghastly thing for a mere child to have to strive to do, but I did and quite well in fact.”

“Your mother was an undead that you resurrected, despite knowing her beliefs and wants. You know the laws of the woods! Death is a part of nature. Rebirth comes to those who—”

“Gods yes, I know. I know all that drivel. You forced it down my throat as if I were a goose having its liver fattened. Spare me your asinine twittering, Father. I have no more use for that prattle now than I did then, perhaps even less after spending so many years in the depths studying with a god who understands my philosophies and approves of my pursuits. What you or your little band of idiots think or feel means nothing to me. All I want from you before I remove your liver from your bloated body and then revive you to walk at my side is for the final gem. You took it from that hovel of a temple that you made me wallow in like a hog for years. I know for I went there but a day ago. The fountain was dry, the statue cold, the gem missing. I see that you have placed it on your staff. You always did picture yourself as clever.”

I glanced at the staff that lay beside me. The antler bound with leather pulsed with arcane energy, the thrumming light stronger than ever before. My gaze flitted to Beirach, standing strong, his features locked into calm acceptance. I rose shakily, soaked and freezing, to stand shoulder to elbow with the man I loved.

“Surely you know that I will not hand over the gem to you!” Beirach shouted at his son. “What I am willing to do is to take you to the king, and you will be tried for your crimes against the druids of the Verboten. During your incarceration I will visit with you, read to you, try to make you see that the evil magicks that you are so besotted with are—”

Maverus laughed heartily. “By the depths, you are an old fool. Surely your young lover there can tell that there is no chance of redemption for me as I have no wish to be saved. Most especially by you, Father .”

“I see you have no morals, that is true,” I shouted over the waterfall to be heard. Maverus grinned at me, his gaze darting from my face to the raven statuary.

“Morals. They are questionable things made by those in power. What you think is an abomination is a thing of beauty to me. Take this bird, for instance.” He flicked a hand at the sculpture. “Truly, it is sad what kind of things just fall from the skies above Melowynn. There I was ransacking some filthy druidic encampment when a raven flew overhead. Knowing that you would reach out to Umeris Stillcloud for help—I do have ears everywhere, child of the woods—I made it my personal ambition to drop every raven I saw.” His cackle filled the chamber, so loud that it drowned out the roar of Mother Moth. “What a pity your missive was delivered, but that is a trivial matter. When the clerics arrive here, it will be too late. I’ll have control of the wellspring, and you all shall be dead, just like all the filthy forest elves that I’ve encased in stone. I’ll be beyond their measly powers and will simply add them to my army of the undead.”

I made to dash to Nin, frozen in stone, but Bissori threw a hand to my chest. “Stay put, my friend. Our time to move is not now.”

“You are correct, good ser dwarf,” Maverus called out. “It is not your time, nor shall it ever be. You all will die here. I will fit the final gem into the doorway and the fountain of the earth shall be mine. Once I douse the wellspring with dark magicks, my final step to becoming an arch lich will be complete. A sip is all it will take, just as a sip from the blessed waters will heal all ills, so will it turn the living to dead once it is corrupted. So, now that we’ve reunited, Father, give me the gem. I will be sporting and allow you to flee this cavern while I ascend. I will kill you later, of course. I think I might even make you my undead man servant. Bound to lick my feet for eternity. Perhaps you can slaver over one foot and your pale green lover can lick the other.”

Beirach, thrumming with rage, cast a look at me. “Take the staff. Use it to summon the help of the oaks. Do not let him get the gem.”

“I don’t have the power,” I replied with shame.

“You have more power than you know, my love. Make me proud.”

“No!” I shouted but too late, for the man who had captured my heart was now an elk, imposing and grand, its reddish-brown fur highlighted blue and white. His armor fell to the icy ground as did his clothing. I grabbed up the chest plate, still warm from his flesh, and tied it over my leather armor.

Maverus snickered, then flicked a finger. A spell flew at Beirach. I dove for the staff, held it aloft, and called out for divine help. Blue light erupted from the antler, shielding the huge elk. With one leap, Beirach cleared a distance the length of our village, and with head down, he charged at his son.

“Now we move!” Bissori bellowed and charged after Beirach. “For the glory of the sons of stone!”

“For the glory of the pixie court!” Tezen roared, streaking out from my wet braids with war picks at the ready. She flew through the clouds of moths, purple and white dust tumbling down to coat the helm of the dwarven fighter swinging a mace. And there I sat, shaking, my fingers tight around the staff, my ears suddenly filled with two overpowering onslaughts of emotion. I had never experienced such a juggernaut of sensitivity before. The oaks were ancient beings, the source of all of wildlife and flora in Melowynn. Gods, in their own rights, chosen paladins of Danubia, willingly morphed into protectors of the well a thousand centuries ago. The thoughts of the twin oaks filled my head so strongly that the impact doubled me over.

The goddess has need of her most valuable defenders. Rise, Prince of the Woods, and channel our glorious dominion through thy own hands.

I looked up, winded, my skull thundering with two wellsprings of feeling shoving their wishes into me as Beirach struck his son with a mighty blow. The dark mage cried out as he was impaled and tossed across the huge cave like a rag doll. Bissori fell upon him, using his mace to deal a thunderous wallop to the necromancer’s midsection. Tezen dive-bombed from the air, like a fishing eagle, to attack Maverus’s withered face. As I pushed to my feet, the threesome attacking the dark mage was blown backward, Bissori flying into the root of one of the holy oaks with a crash. Tezen blasted upward, her ability to right herself scattered as she sailed higher and higher. Beirach was flung to his back, his rack scraping along the ground. A tine caught the stone raven, knocking it into a far corner.

“Idiots. Did you truly think a physical attack by mere mortals could drop one who embraces death?” Maverus rose from the ground, his robes torn, his face marked with small bloody gashes, and one side of his skull dented inward. Thick blood, the color of pus, dripped from his toes as he lifted into the air. “You are all fools. How can one kill that which is already half dead?”

He flung a hand up. A blast of sickly green energy hit Tezen, and she fell, her tiny body encased in rock.

“Stop, stop!” I shouted, using the staff to lever myself up as my head pounded. I lifted the staff just as Maverus turned his sights to Bissori. The tiny stone pixie hit the ground with a clatter, her eyes wide, her small, pointed teeth bared in a grimace. “Do not harm another of them!”

I slammed the end of the staff to the ground. The rocks shook with druidic magicks that raced along like tendrils of a new plant pushing through the soil. The spell hit the trees with force, rocking the twin oaks soundly.

Bissori got to his boots, raging now, and made another run at Maverus, using his shield to deflect another bolt of magicks. The white oaks creaked and groaned, each one stretching its boughs out, the leaves shaking with wild magicks. I focused my meager power on the staff, pushing all I had into the gem that Maverus was so intent on getting his clawed hands on. Another wave of the goddess’s wrath exploded through the gem, the spell arcing over the ruddy elk, trying to find his footing on icy rock. The magicks fell on the oaks. A shimmering white cloud of energy raced through crystal leaves to thick roots as wide as ten red rivers. The outgrowths vibrated free from the cold rock that had held them for centuries, mighty boughs sweeping upward to scatter the moths. Clouds of white dust fell from the wings of the insects fluttering about, coating the trees as they uprooted themselves.

“What a lovely parlor trick,” Maverus snarled while casting a spear of dark magicks that sank into the thigh of Bissori, pinning him to the doorframe. Bright red blood flowed from the wound, hitting the floor and freezing. I watched in horror as Bissori was then engulfed in a dank green spell that turned him into rock. “Playing with the flora and fauna. You druids are all the same. Relying on chipmunks and daisy petals to defend you and yours. Cowards, all of you, and unworthy of my further attention. Give me the gem!”

He cast out a hand at Beirach as the oaks took one fumbling step. Beirach skidded to a halt, hooves going out from under him, as the blast swirled toward him like the fabled twirling winds of the Sandrayan homelands. Crystal leaves sang out in the tornado, hundreds ripping free to be caught up in the whirling storm. I closed my eyes and willed the trees to protect my beloved. The oaks did as I bid, bending into the circling wind. The poison in the air impacted them instead of Beirach. The trees cried out inside my head, making me retch at the pain ripping through my skull.

“Stupid druidic wizardry,” Maverus howled in outrage as the oaks, now coated in a thick sludge of toxin, began to pull at my very soul, begging for my remaining magicks. Retching and gagging, I gave them the last of my power, the surge of life-giving healing rolling over the cavern like a fog cloud. The oaks soaked it up as if it was water. The leaves then hit Maverus, his attention on me as he flew toward me, his face tight with hatred. Glass foliage, thin as a whisper and sharp as a scimitar, impacted the dark mage. He cried out as his vellum thin skin was sliced into ribbons. He faltered, falling from the air to land on his knees, thick blood pooling under him as he slapped at his face to shatter one of the leaves embedded in his left eye. “You are done, Rhaes…”

His right hand came up engulfed in broiling green mist. I braced myself for the spell to hit. That was when a crack as loud as a thunderbolt shook the ground. I looked up to see Beirach hit the base of one of the poisoned oaks, the impact of his head to the holy tree sending him to his knees. The oak teetered, its roots bared, and toppled down to crush Maverus underneath it. The necromancer fell quiet and still, the hand holding the spell exposed, the rest of him flattened. Unmoving, silent, the only sounds now the roar of the waterfall. The dark magicks shrouding his hand dissipated.

I coughed and spat, my mouth vile from being sick, and then crawled, staff in numb hand, around the ledge to where Beirach lie, unmoving. His sides were still, his head laying at an awkward angle. I began to sob over his body. His fur tickling my nose as I wept and wailed in anguish.

“ No, no, no, no! No, please, move. Please, do not leave me. No, no, goddess, help me! Help me! Bring him back!”

Water heals all.

I startled violently at the weak voice of the ancient guardians.

I wiped at my face, my gaze locked on the elk lying lifeless with a broken neck as the softly relayed words began to push past my grief.

Yes, the spring’s water heals all ills. Water. The fountain. I placed a kiss on a soft muzzle, then stumbled to my feet, pulling the staff behind me like a child would lead a reluctant pup. When I reached the doorway, I freed one of my silver daggers and sliced away the strips holding the bright blue gem to the staff. It sat in a divot that looked to have been whittled out just for the stone. With shaking hands, I pried out the gem, moths and mist settling over and around me, and pressed the gem into the last remaining slot. The stones lit up one by one. All the colors of the rainbow, filling the cave with a cascade of brightness that made my eyes water anew.

“Please, Danubia, please, they are so loved and so brave,” I whispered while the doors creaked open. Dust of a thousand ages filled the air. I stood shakily, the staff the only thing keeping me upright, and watched as the doors opened. The oaks fell silent.

I rushed into the interior chamber, falling to my knees several times, my sight locked on a small font of water flowing up from the middle of the mountain. There was no elaborate fountain carved of rare stone or golden statuary. Just a small natural spring flowing out from between two smooth rocks into a basin of plain pink quartz.

The moths followed me into the chamber, flitting about my head as if they wished to help me reach the fountain. They got under me, lifted me and carried me to the water, placing me down beside the basin.

“Thank you,” I coughed, dropped the staff, and cupped some of the coldest water I had ever felt up and to my lips. “Blessed Danubia, your gifts are many.”

I sipped the clear, cold water. My lips went numb. Then my throat, followed by my stomach. The moths danced around my head as I tumbled back to sit on my ass, my body chilling from toes to fingertips to the ends of my braids. Death seemed likely, but the cold soon changed to warmth. Glorious, yellow sunshine radiated out from my core. I could feel the aches of exhaustion leaving me as the healing powers moved through me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I got to my knees and to my feet, my head clear, my soul refreshed. I emptied my skin then refilled it with water from the spring before rushing to Beirach. I dribbled some into his mouth and sat back, terrified the waters would not be enough to heal his massive injury. I made the trip to the fountain and back a dozen times.

“Mighty Danubia, I love him with all my soul. I beg of you bring him back to me so that we may serve you together,” I pleaded to the goddess. The elk snorted, twitched, and then shuddered. The form of the animal slowly being replaced by the body of a man. When Beirach laid in front of me, nude, perfect, and whole, I cried out in joy.

“I am happy to look upon you again,” he said as he reached up to cup my cheek. I fell into his arms, kissing his face over and over. “Maverus?”

My joy evaporated. I sat back on my heels. “He is dead. You knocked the guardian onto him. Even a dark mage cannot survive such a fate.”

He sat up, lost in anguish. He pulled me close, held me for a long, silent time, and then peeled himself from my arms.

“I shall grieve his loss once more.” He sighed heavily.

“Oh shit, what happened? Ugh, I’ve not felt this bad since that night I hooked up with a wild Barbarian lass on the outskirts of…oh hey there. Might want to cover up your pecker, Beirach, before it freezes and falls off,” Tezen croaked from the corner. She sat up, hand on her head, looking befuddled, her eyes flaring when she spied the tree on its side.

“Someone send a raven to my wife. Tell her I got too drunk to make it down this fecking mountain in one piece,” Bissori groaned across the way.

“The curse has lifted now that the caster is dead,” Beirach announced as he got to his feet to find his clothes. We all grunted a reply. None of us wished to celebrate the loss of his son outwardly, but internally, I was overjoyed to see that the stone curse was no more.

Nin hopped over to me, his bright black eyes filled with a hundred questions.

Where am I? Why am I in a cave? Did you bring any food?

I blinked at the bird. “I…no, I do not have food on me. We left it with the horses.”

Ah, too bad about that. I like your shiny things. May I have a shiny thing?

I plucked a bead from my braid and handed it to the bird. Then I looked from Nin to my friends.

“It seems I can now understand him,” I offered and got a thumbs-up from a groggy pixie.

“A gift from Danubia,” Beirach called over the rushing roar of the falls. “A sip from the springs has been rumored to enhance druidic powers, heal all ills, and bring a serenity to those who drink.”

“I bet it makes your pecker hard too,” Tezen and Bissori both said at once. I chuckled and watched in amazement as the sentries of the well slowly rose. My sight flew to where Maverus laid. It was a gruesome sight. The levity of our victory faded quickly.

Pushing to my feet, I refilled my water skin then went to the fountain to fill it. I took the skin to Bissori, then to Tezen, ensuring both would be healthy for the trek back to the rice patty village. Nin flew to the spigot and took several long drinks, his feathers growing glossy with each beakful. Then we began tending to the fallen oaks and poured the healing water over their bared roots. We all did this several times. Finally, the trees began to shed their bark, sloughing off the toxin coating it. Underneath was a shiny white newness, the wood pristine and bright as a new silver piece.

We thank you for your aid. The goddess’s shrine is once more safe, and the water of the world pristine.

“Thank you for your help,” I said to the ancient sentinels, head bowed, my skull filled with so many new things. The songs of the moths, Nin’s thoughts, the boisterous musings of the white oaks. I had to take a long breath to try to quiet all the voices and feelings of the plants and beasts nearby. I could only wonder what it would be like when I stepped into a woodland or strode through the menagerie in Renedith. Perhaps I would need to seek counsel from those who had lived with the whispers of the wild inside them for centuries. I hoped to learn as much as I could from Beirach, from druidcraft to the finer skills of pleasing your lover. That is, if he chose to linger in the city with me. The future was now safe for the druids, but our lives were tangled like vines on a fence post.

The oaks moved torpidly back to their stations, taking up their silent vigil until they were next needed. We removed the gems from the doorway, freeing the holy portal to close once more. The cave shook when the doors slammed shut. I tucked the gems into my bag of potions, then went over to aid the others in preparing Maverus to be taken from this frosty cave to a rest in a tree next to his mother. Perhaps when he found himself in the presence of the goddess, he would see her glory and revel in the beauty of the natural world. I would pray that he found peace no matter what form he took when he returned to the woods.

We bound the mangled body in our cloaks, taking care to do so respectfully even if Tezen looked as if she would rather spit in the dead man’s face. A feeling that I understood well. Beirach carried his son through the falls, his chin up, leading us out into a twilight that was so still and serene it seemed almost surreal. The storm had passed during our fight, and now the sky was alive with strips of blue, pink, and purple clouds moving in front of the setting sun. My thoughts shattered into a thousand bits of utter confusion as the emotions and thoughts of all the animals and plants on the mountainside rushed to me. Closing my eyes, I tried to quiet them, but they refused to be stilled. The chitter chatter of two dozen or so snow gruffets settling into a barren tree to sleep for the night pervaded my head.

“You look pained,” Beirach said, turning to look back at me when I fell behind.

“My head feels like a water skin filled beyond capacity.” I rubbed at the tight knot between my eyebrows. “This gift will take some getting used to, I’m afraid. I never knew roosting birds had quite so much to say to each other.”

He smiled, a quavering one, but a smile. “I gather roosting birds are quite the gossips.”

“You have no idea,” I replied, throwing back my shoulder to press on. Setting up a camp and sleeping by a crackling fire called loudly.

Our journey to a campsite to rest stalled when we heard the first bark of a yeti rolling into the quickly darkening sky.

“Shit, I forgot about them,” Bissori mumbled, removing his helm with haste. He glanced up at Beirach, cradling his son. “They like to see your face. Bring out your trinkets, hold them high, and smile like you’re looking up at a fine set of titties.” The dwarf amended his statement when his sight fell on me. “Or smile like you’re looking up at a fine set of hairy hangers. Whatever puts some juice in your pickle.”

Beirach nodded, placed Maverus on the ground, and then fished out his flute. I dug into my pouch, fingers skimming over the holy gems. The yeti could not have them. I found my Stillcloud pin. That would do. I held it high over my head as the low growls and barks of the yeti filled my ears.

Bissori replied with several barks of his own. Night cloaked the mountain, the only light from the glow of the moons. I’d not thought to put the blue gem back into Beirach’s staff.

The flicker of torches began to creep into our view as two huge shaggy forms dropped down from above us. Rocks and bits of ice rolled down the craggy slope. They hit hard, shaking the ground, and then straightened, one carrying a dancing torch, the other shaking a club the size of a human man at us. They snarled and yipped. The torchlight making their white fur glow gold. Incredibly tall creatures, they commanded respect.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t speak your tongue. We got some pretties for you,” Bissori said as we waved what we had over our heads. Tezen flitted past with a tiny golden coronet. The guards stopped barking aggressively as they spied the offerings we slowly placed on the ground. “You take them and let us pass, yeah?”

The yeti crept closer, gave us long looks through strands of white fur hanging over their bright white eyes, and they gathered up the small pile of proffers. The one with the club grunted at us as he tried to fit one fat finger into the tiny coronet.

“That’s us going now,” Bissori said and so we got going. “Told you they liked the shiny bobs. That’s one of the first things you learn when you leave stone hold for the topside. I’ve run up and down these crags for near a hundred years now, trading all over Melowynn, and in that time, I learned a thing or two about appeasing the locals.”

Three of us fell into light conversation about being a traveling trader until we reached our horses. The steeds blinked sleepy eyes at us, their nostrils flaring as we neared. All three began stamping the ground, ears laid back, eyes round.

“They smell the evil on that one,” Bissori stated as he tried to calm Cornbread, whose brays echoed around us. We all glanced at the wrapped body in Beirach’s arms.

“Lead Methril down to our campsite. I will follow behind,” Beirach announced, then eased around the horses. I glanced at Tezen. She sighed forlornly. We trudged along in silence, heads down, eyes on our feet, as we crept lower on the mountain. Finally, Bissori called us to rest, citing a small outcropping of rocks that would shield us from the winds that seemed to blow steadily across the range. We built a small fire, tucked the horses into the prime spot, and settled down to rest with some dried bread, bean spread, and a canteen of pumpkin beer. Nin, perched on the broken branch of a long dead pine, tucked his beak under his wing, and went to sleep.

Well, three of us sat by the fire. Beirach placed his son by the horses then wandered off to stand under a scraggly pine, his sight on something far away, his back to us. There were a dozen or so tufted snow grouse roosted in the boughs, their sleepy emotions mixing with the drowsy thoughts of our steeds. Overall, the horses and donkey were happy to see us but missed having a barn. I, too, missed some walls and a soft bed. I poured some beer into a wooden cup, smeared some bean paste over a hunk of dry bread, and walked over to where Beirach stood. I might not be able to feel the emotions of humans, but with this man on this night, I did not require magicks or a goddess’s thanks. His melancholy was palpable.

“You need to eat to keep up your strength,” I said as I stepped beside him, my breath clouding in front of me. The view was raw wilderness, cold, deadly, but stunning. Snow laid like white coverlets on the landscape. Spindly pines rose to great heights, their needly boughs dusted with white powder. Far below, if I squinted, I could just make out lights from a small village. Perhaps the one that Agathe and Bissori called home? I prayed it was so, for I was ready for another hour in the steam hut and a stuffed mattress to lay my head on.

“How nice it is to have someone to worry over me again,” he replied, taking the bread with a sad smile.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” I offered him the cup of pumpkin beer. The voices of our friends reached us, Bissori telling Tezen about one of his trading routes that led him past the hut of a swamp witch and how he outfoxed the old crone with a magical turnip. “Losing a child once is dreadful enough. Having to do so twice…”

“I have ended the life of my wife and my son. That sits heavily on my shoulders, Kenton.”

I turned to face him, the moon glow painting his handsome face the softest white. “I suspect you will not stop berating yourself no matter what I say, but please know, no one thinks of you as a violent murderer. You did what needed to be done in both instances to save your wife a life of indignity and servitude to one who was unwell in spirit. The same can be said for Maverus, for he admitted to serving a lord of the depths. If he had succeeded in tainting the wellspring, it would have spread throughout all the waters of Melowynn. All races, all beasts, all birds, and insects would have been turned into something unholy. I know you are grieving anew for them both, but you acted out of kindness and love, things that guide you through your days.”

He plucked a dirty braid from my shoulder and wound it around his finger. My sight lingered on his face, his eyes especially, as he twirled the plait as if mesmerized by it.

“For one so sheltered, your wisdom is vast,” he softly said, his gaze lifting from the braid to lock with mine. “Thank you. For being so understanding. Deep in my heart, I know your words to be true, but the knowledge of that truth does little to ease the pain.”

I moved closer. He opened his arms to envelop me in his solid embrace. “I am no great healer, but if my uttering the simple truth of your character eases your burden, I am happy to linger in your arms and sing a song about your virtues every day.”

He smiled, a wobbly thin thing, but a smile just the same. “There is nothing I would like better than to have you in my arms every day.”

“Then so it shall be,” I announced with as much regality as I could. I buried my nose into his chest, the auburn curls peeking out of the top of his grimy shirt tickling my brow. “We will linger abed every morn, well past prayers, and I shall fill your ears with your glory day in and day out until you believe what I say.”

“Mm, then I shall roll you to your back as the dawn kisses your fair cheeks and regale you with reminders of your mighty magicks.”

I drew in a long breath, filling my lungs with his scent. “We are truly a pair of smelts are we not?” He nuzzled his nose into the top of my head, his arms cinching tightly around me. I laid my cheek on his breast. His heart thumped strong and steady. Two words out of a hundred that would describe this man. “I know we have much to settle once we return, but I would very much like it if you would consider coming to Renedith? I know it is a large city, and your soul, like mine, pines for the forest but there is so much to do yet. The goddess sent me to Aelir for a reason and I do feel that reason has presented itself to me. I dream of being able to teach the youth of Renedith that there is goodness in all faiths, that the creatures they cage deserve to live free as the goddess intended, and that acceptance of others whose skin may be a differing hue is right and true.” I pulled back, just a hair, to look up at him. “If you are not willing to live at the castle then I would—”

“Hush,” he said, placing his lips over mine in a tender, chaste kiss. “The goddess has sent you to Aelir for a purpose. It will present itself when she so decrees. Until then, and after if you wish it so, I would be at your side.”

I grinned widely and shot to my toes to steal another kiss.

“Hey, you two over there by the tree, find a bedroll!” Tezen shouted over the crackling fire.

My cheeks warmed. “Perhaps we should join them?” I held out my hand. “The pain of loss is always lessened when you share it with those who care for you.”

He nodded, and we walked back to the fire, hand in hand, as the moons of Melowynn climbed higher in the starry sky. A sky that all who called these lands home could once more gaze upon.

We had just taken our seats upon our bedrolls when Nin, ever vigilant, let loose a shrill warning call. The horses and donkey began to shift restlessly.

Strangers! Strangers!

We shot to our boots, reaching for weapons, unsure of what it was that might come out of the darkness. Nin cried out a warning repeatedly, bouncing on his snowy bough, before a tall form strode out of the dark, ruby red robes with white trim that proclaimed the person wearing it to be a purge cleric.

“There are no sick elves here!” I shouted, stepping forward as more and more clerics gathered around us. “It was never a plague. Let us explain!”

The sleek hood on the tallest cleric fell back to reveal an elf with bright yellow eyes, a bald head, and bearing the six pronged symbol of Ihdos, the god the city elves worshipped, inked into her brow. She raised a hand to show that no magicks were readied. The others followed suit, bald heads exposed, hands raised in a peaceful gesture.

“We have come at the behest of Umeris Stillcloud to aid you in the eradication of…” She glanced about, her keen gaze falling on the body of Maverus wrapped in four different cloaks. “Are we too late to assist you or is that one of your party? We can bring them back if you wish as long as the heart and brain have not frozen.”

“No,” Beirach interjected. “No, he is not to be resurrected. He will be presented to Danubia once we are back in the Verboten, and there he shall find his next life serving the goddess.”

The cleric looked at me. “What the archdruid says stands,” I said. “You know of our ways. Life and death are natural events that only the goddess should have power over.” I got a cold look from the cleric, but she did finally nod, just once. “His curse is now lifted as his magicks have died with him.”

“Then we shall make camp here for the night and leave in the morning. Does any in your party require healing?” she asked, glancing at the four of us coated in dried blood and gore.

“Thank you, but we have all been healed by a higher source,” I replied and gave her a respectful short bow. “You are welcome to rest with us. The more people, the less chance of crag wolves sneaking in to try to steal us or our horses away.”

“We thank you,” she said, and the band of perhaps twenty red-robed clerics entered the circle of firelight. They sat close to the flames, hands out, legs folded as ours were, warming themselves, curiosity in their eyes. They passed around some jerky and water. Finally, after they had some food in them and were relatively warm, the leader spoke to Beirach, his maturity and bearing as an archdruid the reason she addressed him, I suspected, which was fine. I was too weary and my head too busy to try to untangle things for her. “Your apprentice spoke of being healed by a higher source. It would interest me as well as the clerics counsel in Renedith to know of where and how this healing took place.”

Beirach leaned forward to glance at me. I met his gaze. His thoughts may not be inside my head—praise the goddess—but we exchanged looks that made it clear what the other was thinking. We would do what we could to keep the fountain’s whereabouts unknown to those outside of our druidic followings. The yeti patrolled Mother Moth well. The wellspring would remain a secret of the forest elves for as long as possible. Exposing it to others would open it up to extremists or those not aligned with keeping the earth green and healthy. Bissori sat among the clerics, encouraging them to sample his pumpkin beer while Tezen sat on my shoulder sipping beer and yawning.

“We found the necromancer in yeti lands, battled him, and ended his life,” Beirach explained, his words catching on the falsehood as he spoke. “During the battle, we were injured. Danubia appeared to us, blessed us all for ending his mad scheme, and cast a strong spell upon us as a gift of thanks. Also, to clarify, Kenton is not my apprentice, unless he may wish to be when we are settled back into our lives. He is my beloved.”

Tezen hugged my neck as I smiled soppily at Beirach. “And you are mine,” I replied shyly.

“Do I hear wedding songs in the icy wind?” the pixie asked, giving my earlobe a playful tug.

I said nothing to verify or deny. Only time and the goddess knew what our futures held for us.

A man could wish and hope, though…