Gustav was a Shade Seeker. If there had been any doubt in Alaric’s mind before about whether he was still a Keeper, the fact that he had traveled for four days with a Shade Seeker and never noticed settled it.
To have pulled that off, Gustav must be far more powerful that Alaric had thought. And the wizard had even fooled Ayda. She had figured out Alaric was a Keeper the first night he traveled with them, but she had lived at Brandson’s with Gustav for half a year. The thoughts swirled, dragging him farther into doubt. How was he going to find the Wellstone?
Douglon had tried to destroy Gustav’s medallion. He’d stomped on it, hit it with his axe, thrown it into the fire, but nothing had any effect on it. While the group numbly gathered their belongings, Alaric wrapped it in a cloth and buried it in the bottom of his pack. The oval didn’t exert any pull on him unless he looked at it, but the knowledge that it was there weighed down his pack in an unsettling way.
“Patlon might find us if we go back to Kordan’s Blight,” Brandson pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Douglon said. “We don’t have what he’s looking for. Whenever he shows up, I’ll talk to him. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
The group trudged back toward the village. Brandson tossed out idea after idea as to Gustav’s whereabouts, each as unlikely as the next. Douglon kept up a perpetual rumble under his breath, cursing the old wizard in every conceivable way and kicking rocks as he walked. Milly and Ayda, less gloomy than the others, pulled ahead a little and chatted.
“Not all trees are worth talking to,” Ayda explained to Milly. The elf was like a glitter of sunlight passing among the trees. “Whisperwillows are silly, and oaks think too highly of themselves, but a lot of trees are interesting.”
Douglon rolled his eyes and kicked the next rock at a tree.
“Can elves really change into trees?” Milly asked. “Does it feel… strange?”
“No, it’s lovely. You can drink in the sunshine, and rain on your leaves is the most beautiful feeling in the world.”
“I doubt it,” Douglon muttered.
Brandson walked up next to Alaric. “Are you going to follow Gustav?”
Alaric nodded. “I need the Wellstone. It holds information that I desperately need.”
“What kind of information can a stone hold?”
“An antidote.”
Brandson glanced at him, but didn’t press further. “How will you find him?”
“I don’t know. Shade Seekers have a keep at Sidion. If I can’t find Gustav there, maybe I can find some information about him.”
They had walked into a small clearing when Ayda spun toward the north and froze, her eyes boring through the trees. Alaric turned almost as fast, catching a snippet of a tune on the breeze. The others halted as well. The next gust of wind carried the sound of a whistled, jaunty tune.
“That’s not Patlon,” Douglon said. “Dwarves don’t whistle stupid songs. Sounds more like an elf if you ask me.”
Ayda ignored him, and Alaric motioned him to be quiet.
Another breeze brought the whistling back to their ears. This time, a throbbing hum could be heard as well. A low purr moving on the air like a warm blanket, wrapping around the things it passed.
“That’s lovely,” said Milly, pushing past Alaric and taking a step toward the trees.
Alaric grabbed her arm, making the blisters on his palm scream.
“Get her out of here!” Alaric commanded Brandson. “Caves! Are there caves nearby?”
Milly pulled her arm away from Alaric in irritation.
“Bear Stronghold’s not far,” Brandson said.
The humming and whistling grew closer. Milly smiled and took another step.
Alaric stepped in front of her and grabbed her by both arms, trying to hold on to her without hurting her, or his own hands, any more than he needed to. She shoved against him, glaring at Alaric, but he didn’t let go. “Take her,” he told Brandson.
“Knock it off!” Brandson said stepping between the Keeper and Milly.
“That is a borrey,” Alaric said. “Milly’s in grave danger.”
“Just mischievous little sprites. No danger,” scoffed Douglon.
“Borreys are all male,” Alaric said. “That humming you hear is a mating call. It will draw Milly in, she won’t be able to resist. They use women to reproduce.” Milly was trying to get past Brandson, her eyes fixed on the woods. “The woman does not survive the process.”
Milly attempted one more step toward the noise, but Brandson grabbed her.
“Get her to a protected place in the Stronghold,” Alaric instructed. “She won’t want to go. Get her there and keep her there however you can. And do it fast. Build a fire across the opening. A big one. Borreys hate fire.”
Brandson nodded and began to pull Milly across the clearing.
“Help him,” Alaric told Douglon. “You may need to carry her.”
Douglon hesitated, glancing at Ayda.
“I’m in no danger,” she said.
“Go,” Alaric urged the dwarf. “Brandson will need your help. We’ll come find you. Take this.” Alaric pressed Gustav’s small bottle into Douglon’s hand. “It’s Gustav’s fire powder. Sprinkle a little on something then strike it with a stick or a stone. It will ignite.”
Douglon took the bag and snorted. “This was how he started his ‘magical’ fires?”
“A little bit goes a long way,” warned Alaric.
Douglon flashed a wicked smile. “Will it kill the borrey?”
“Probably not, they’re hard to kill. But it should hold it at bay. We’ll try to give you some time.”
Douglon nodded and ran toward the edge of the clearing where Brandson stood tugging on Milly’s arm and pleading with her to follow him. The dwarf ran up, tossed Milly up onto his shoulder and darted off through the trees while she shrieked and pounded on his back. Brandson stared after them in shock.
“Show me the way!” the dwarf bellowed as he ran. Brandson ran after them.
Alaric nodded in approval, then turned back to Ayda.
“And you are still here because…?”
She was watching the woods in the direction of the whistling. “I don’t think I’m in any danger. I can help.”
Alaric didn’t know if borreys took elves for mates. He stood beside her, facing the coming creature. The humming grew louder, and Ayda’s eyes glazed. She shifted toward the trees.
“Ayda!” Alaric’s voice cracked like a whip. She blinked and looked at him. “You can’t be here. Run!”
“Too late,” Ayda said, seeing a flicker of movement deep in the trees. She stepped back, her eyes wide.
“I can’t protect you,” Alaric said, desperate. “If it takes control of you. You’ll fight me, too.”
“I know,” she said, clenching her jaw against the hum. She turned and focused on Alaric. “I can change. Can you help me change back?”
“I can help,” Alaric said. The whistling was getting louder. “But you don’t have time.”
“Of course I do. You’ve restored an elf before?”
When would he have had the chance to restore an elf from a tree back to their elfin form? “No. But I understand the process.”
“Understand the process?”
“You’d be doing the hard part, right? I just have to anchor you with an image to help you snap back to…”—he waved his hand at her—”…this. But you’re out of time. I saw Prince Elryn change into a tree, and it took almost five minutes. The elves thought that was fast. I can’t hold the borrey off that long.”
Ayda looked at Alaric sharply. “You were at the Tree of Hope when Elryn changed?” The humming grew still louder, and Ayda slapped her hands over her ears. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and hummed loudly, drowning out the sound of the borrey. She reached her arms up and took a deep breath in. Closing her eyes, she breathed out. Her feet and toes lengthened, followed by her arms and fingers. Her toes wriggled down into the earth, splitting into roots digging into the dirt. Her legs and torso thickened into a trunk. Her hair flowed along her branches and burst into bright green leaves. By the end of the breath, she had transformed into a slender, silvery tree. Only her face, an oddly tree-like face, remained. It had taken mere seconds. Alaric stared at her dumbfounded.
“An elf, Keeper,” she said to him, her voice barely audible. “Help me change back to an elf.”
He looked blankly at her for a heartbeat. “Can elves change into anything else?”
“No,” she answered, and the tree mouth twitched into a small smile as her face hardened and faded into the trunk.
There was a rustling at the edge of the clearing, and a short young man with wide-set green eyes stepped out of the trees. The creature might have been mistaken for a human except that its sandy hair did not cover the top of its ears, each of which split into two sharp points. The throbbing hum was louder now, emanating from inside the creature. The thing stopped whistling and took a deep breath, smelling the air. A wide smile spread across its face, revealing pointed teeth. Its eyes lit on Alaric, then scanned the rest of the clearing.
“Good morning,” the borrey greeted him.
“Good morning,” Alaric responded, leaning against the Ayda tree. In his pocket, his fingers began tracing protective runes, concentrating on the magic and trying not to be distracted by the borrey.
“Beautiful day.” The creature continued speaking pleasantly even as a small crease of annoyance appeared between its eyebrows. It began walking around the clearing peering into the surrounding trees. “I thought I heard you speaking with a woman as I approached. Have you no companion?”
Alaric looked around the empty clearing. “Just me and the trees.”
The borrey turned toward Alaric, its face hungry. Its eyes fell on the Ayda tree. It looked at the silver trunk with its bright green leaves, and its brow furrowed. The creature walked closer. “Do you often talk to trees?”
“Well, not all trees. Whisperwillows are silly, and oaks think too highly of themselves, but some trees are interesting.”
The borrey moved within inches of the Ayda tree. Alaric continued to lean against the tree, but his fingers quickened their tracing of protective runes. The energy burned his fingertips and flowed across his blisters like scalding water. The borrey breathed in, its nose brushing the bark of the tree. Then its eyes flashed open and it drew back. Alaric pushed away from the tree quickly as the borrey shot him a look of fury from eyes that were now seething red.
“I wonder what happens to the elf if you kill the tree?” The borrey flexed its hands, and sharp claws flashed out. With a snarl, it stabbed toward the base of the trunk.
Alaric made no move, but an inch from the trunk, the claws deflected as though they’d hit an invisible wall.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Alaric said. “I’m fond of this tree.”
The borrey stepped back, eyeing the Keeper. “Not bad,” it said, moving forward again and breathing the scent of the tree. This time, the claws flicked out, not at Ayda but straight at Alaric’s gut. When they reached his shirt, they twisted to the side again.
“You cannot stop me.” The borrey fixed him with a chilling look. “You cannot hurt me. I will wear you down, destroy you, and then deal with the elf.”
The creature closed its eyes and took a deep breath, drawing itself up. Alaric braced himself for an attack, but the creature’s eyes snapped open.
“Ahhhh,” the borrey sighed, relaxing. “You are protecting more than the elf.” It lifted its head and smelled again. “A human woman… young…. close.”
Alaric tensed, and the borrey’s lips curled into a grin.
“How will you protect the human when you are here?” Light glinted off pointed teeth as the borrey flashed a smile. Then it turned, dropping to all fours, and raced off after Milly.