The Darkling Tide Read online

  “The chieftains have decided this is the best course of action,” Charissa said.

  “Yes, but how do we open the scepters?” Celeste asked. She knew the methods, and that was another issue.

  “We aren’t specifically saying that when we open the scepters we will spill their light through the Fay Forest, and therefore into other worlds,” Garth said, stepping forward to ease the anger in his light elves. “But with the scepters open as weapons, we can fight the darklings and maybe drive them back to a point that we can heal the Fay Forest and rid Agaranth of this winter.”

  The light elves muttered agreement.

  “Yes, but how do we open the scepters?” Celeste asked.

  “Your chieftains have spoken.” Charissa sniffed and tucked her hands behind her back.

  “No, it’s a valid question,” Garth said. “Many of you already know how to open the scepters, and I’m sure Celeste does as well, that’s why she’s asking. The scepters seem to only respond to the blood of an unchosen harbinger.”

  Now that it was confirmed, outrage roared through the atrium. For the longest time the light elves had only assumed what opened the scepters, but now that it was confirmed...

  So many scepters have already been opened, Celeste thought, turning to look at the dark elves. How many harbingers have they killed? Because it didn’t just take blood, it took the dying blood of a harbinger.

  How could they waste so many potential harbingers of light just to open the moon scepters?

  “But how is such a thing to be done? How many people have you murdered?” Celeste asked. She couldn’t keep the outrage out of her voice.

  Garth raised his hands for silence. The elves obeyed. “We are studying all possibilities to opening the scepters,” he said.

  “And if blood is the only way to do it,” Charissa said. “We only choose those we know will join the darklings.”

  “But an unchosen harbinger is impossible to tell if they will be a harbinger of darkness or a harbinger of light.” Celeste said. No one seemed to pay any attention to her now. Everyone was too lost in their own thoughts and the chieftains went back to easing the minds of the gathered elves.

  Celeste melted back into line with Skye and Mari. She scanned the crowd looking for Daniken, but she couldn’t find her sister anywhere among the dark elves.

  Celeste stood outside, oblivious to the cold and stared into the well beneath the tree. She couldn’t believe what had happened. How could the light elves side with the dark elves? How would they find another way to open the scepters?

  At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before Garth sides with the dark elves and we are all blooding harbingers to open our scepters.

  “Well, looks like that issue has been settled for us,” Mari said, joining Celeste in gazing into the well.

  Celeste looked away from her reflection and to her shorter friend. Mari pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the well, which was chest high on Celeste. Skye came strolling along behind her and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I think things are going in a very dangerous direction,” Celeste said, turning her attention back down to her reflection.

  “Soon we will be heading down to the harbinger school and stealing away kids in the night,” Mari agreed.

  “Just like humans thought we did in ancient times,” Skye said.

  Celeste chuckled without humor. In days past humans were afraid of the elves and the fay folk who lived in the forest, they used to think they would come out at night and steal their children away, leaving behind one of their own brood to plague the family. Apparently elves were to blame for bad parenting.

  “How far do you think Garth will let them go?” Mari asked.

  Celeste turned and looked back at the meeting hall they’d just left. “I don’t think it’s really safe to talk about that here,” she said.

  Mari nodded, slid off the well and led them all down the road and to her home. Celeste shut the door behind her and took off her boots. To the right of the door was a fireplace where embers glowed merrily. The one floor structure was warm and hung with soft blue tapestries. Large cushions were arranged on the floor for sitting, and Celeste took one closest to the fireplace.

  Elf dwellings were a series of chambers without doors. In the back of the house was where the bathing chamber was customarily kept, and along the hallway from the main room to the bathing room were archways that led into the dining halls and sleeping chambers.

  “I think Garth is getting weak and mindless,” Celeste said once they were all arranged on cushions. “He’s given way to the dark elves far too much lately, and though he says they will look for an alternative to harbinger blood, I don’t think he will.”

  “What do you think will happen?” Skye asked her.

  Mari picked up a carafe of wine and poured three mugs, listening intently to the conversation. She handed one to each of her guests. It was customary for the host to offer wine, and it was rude for the guests to refuse.

  Celeste didn’t care for wine, so she tossed her drink back quickly to get it over with. Mari knew how she felt about the drink, so she always poured her less than was normal. Skye was far too fond of his wine, and so he was more than eager to accept the portion Celeste didn’t.

  “I think the dark elves are taking over New Landanten,” Celeste said around the burn creeping up her throat. “I think Garth is too weak and needs to pass on.”

  Skye looked at her sharply.

  “I’m sorry, it’s the truth. We can’t elect a new high chieftain until the old one gives himself to the light, and it’s obvious that Garth feels doing that now would leave us in a bad spot against the darklings,” Celeste said.

  “So out of trying to save us, he’s inadvertently putting all the worlds in danger,” Mari echoed. She toyed with the stem of her wine glass.

  “And I know the guard is in charge of keeping the high chieftains safe, so I hope you know I’m not planning anything untoward,” Celeste told Skye.

  He nodded and took a drink of wine.

  “But I feel it’s the truth, he is getting old. Normally elves have already given themselves to the light far before his age, but he’s holding on.” Celeste sighed. “If he thinks he’s doing us a favor, he’s wrong.”

  “So, do you think there’s any other way of opening the scepters?” Skye asked Mari.

  “No,” Mari said. “If there were, they would have figured it out by now.”

  “I agree,” Celeste said.

  There was silence for a time as they all reflected on what this meant for the elves.

  “Daniken wasn’t there today,” Skye said.

  “I noticed,” Celeste told him. “I’m curious where she might be.”

  “Probably hunting down some harbinger,” Mari scoffed.

  “Oh, dear All Father, how could I be so blind!” Celeste shot to her feet, fueled by the revelation Mari imparted on her.

  “What?” Skye asked, standing in confusion.

  “There’s a new harbinger here, remember, she was the one I was helping through the Fay Forest,” Celeste said, stepping into her boots.

  “And you think she went after her?” Skye asked, putting his boots on as well.

  “I’m almost certain of it.”

  Leona couldn’t sleep. Worried that the elle folk would return, she tossed and turned well past Abagail’s watch and into Daniken’s.

  The elf sat near to Leona, the moon scepter across her lap, staring off into the forest around them. The fire flickered weakly, casting tall shadows across the snow of the clearing. The light played off Daniken’s skin, shimmering silvery light into the darkened air.

  “Can’t sleep?” Daniken asked. Though she spoke softly, it was enough to make Leona jump.

  “No,” she answered.

  Daniken patted the ground beside her, and Leona sat up in her bed. It wasn’t far to move, and Leona took her blankets with her, setting down beside the elf. Just being around Danike
n made her feel safer.

  “Do you know where the scepters come from?” Daniken asked Leona after a time of silence where Leona nearly fell back asleep.

  “From the sun and the moon,” Leona answered.

  “That’s partially right,” Daniken said, handing the scepter to Leona.

  Leona just looked at it.

  “It’s ok. It’s not bound to me. You can hold it, maybe even use it,” Daniken encouraged her.

  “Celeste said only the guardians of light could use them,” Leona said.

  “Maybe,” Daniken said, and shrugged. “It’s never been tested, but I do know that if an elf has died, their scepter can be awarded to another elf.”

  Leona held out her hand and tentatively took the scepter. She felt the cool wyrd within the crystalline staff. Where she would have thought the scepter was fragile, she was wrong. It seemed very resilient.

  “Now, the scepters come from Hafaress and Vilda.”

  “The All Father’s children?” Leona asked, forgetting, for a time, the power of the scepter that seemed to draw at her own energy.

  “Yes, the God of the Sun, and the Goddess of the Moon,” Daniken nodded.

  “How is it that the darklings can thrive in moonlight?” Leona asked.

  “They don’t so much thrive as they just aren’t harmed as much by it. The sleeping eye is passive, Vilda is charged with knowledge and all things to do with intellect and emotion, she isn’t charged with the protection of the nine worlds. Hafaress, on the other hand, is the guardian of the nine worlds, he is the Waking Eye, and the baneful fires that come to claim the shadow.”

  “Oh,” Leona said. “That makes sense.”

  “Do you want to learn how to use it?” Daniken asked her.

  “Can I?” Leona asked.

  “I’m not sure, but if you can, maybe we can get you one of your own,” Daniken said. She gave Leona a winning smile.

  “Alright,” Leona said.

  “It would make a great weapon for you,” Daniken answered. “Better than that knife.”

  Leona didn’t answer. Abagail had said the knife suited her.

  “Alright, so, all you have to do is focus your thoughts,” Daniken told her. “Come, follow me.” The elf stood, and quietly led her away from the camp and toward the edge of Singer’s Trail. Leona followed, careful not to bang the staff on anything.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t break,” Daniken told her. “Now, point it at that wolf, there.” The elf took a position behind Leona and helped aim the scepter. The wolf seemed smaller than all the others, and he wasn’t as vocal about his hunger at seeing them. He milled around a little, but seemed rather calm.

  He looked so much like the shadow of a puppy that Leona fidgeted and tried to aim at a different darkling, one that was much more aggressive and snapping at the boundary, trying to get at them.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’s a darkling, he is already dead,” Daniken said. “Now, focus your thought, imagine the light of the moon coming to do your bidding. Feel the wyrd within the scepter building up, wakening to your touch.”

  Leona did as she was told, it was easy to call upon the power of the scepter, but as it woke up, it struggled in her grasp. She could feel the wyrd of the scepter attach to her, but when she thought it would flood her body with energy, instead it started drawing her energy into its depths.

  Her vision wavered and somehow split in two. There was an image of the Fay Forest before her, and then another, an immense plane of silver light.

  “This is normal at first, but command it. Be firm. Don’t let the light win,” Daniken told her. “Think of all you stand to lose.”

  Leona thought of Abagail, and the struggle she was facing. If her sister could be infected with the plague and face the darkness that might come for her, and struggle to remain good, Leona could fight this.

  The scepter pulled her further in and the vision of the Fey Forest wavered, and more of the silver light crept in on her awareness.

  She wasn’t weak. She was a Bauer. She was strong. This light couldn’t have her. She pulled back on it, and with a savage twist of her mind, she pulled her energy away from the scepter.

  As if by some subconscious command, Leona drummed her finger against the scepter with a clang. Silver light, nearly white, burst from the tip of the scepter. A deep resonant tone accompanied it, a sound that Leona felt echoed within her body.

  The beam of light connected with the wolf, and it burst into a cloud of dust.

  “You did it!” Daniken said, shaking Leona’s shoulders. The elf seemed genuinely happy, and the sentiment chased the power of the leaching scepter back into the depths of the weapon.

  A rush of air left Leona’s mouth, and she smiled. “I did it,” she whispered.

  “Good job, oh, you are going to be so good at this!” Daniken told her. “Now, we just need to find you a scepter.”

  The still lake spread out before them nearly as far as Abagail could see. It existed both on and off the trail. She wasn’t sure if that meant anything outside the trail could slip into the confines of the trail or not.

  A haze of fog lay over the lake, and the snow didn’t seem to touch its surface. It was a deep green and spoke to Abagail of dead things. An overgrown land bridge divided the lake and traveled from their shore to the next.

  Abagail shivered.

  “I don’t remember a lake being here,” Daniken said, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing.

  “Is this part of Singer’s Trail?” Leona asked. “There’s a thin part that goes around it. Is that also Singer’s Trail?”

  Daniken seemed to be thinking. “I’m not really sure to be honest.”

  “Well, here’s the thing, if we go around it there’s a chance that isn’t Singer’s Trail over there. If we cross it, there could be any number of darkling in there.” Rorick pointed at the haunting lake.

  “Daphne is flying around it,” Abagail said, pointing to the left of the lake where the pixie was meandering through the air, her purple glow dimming with her increased distance from them. “And besides, how would darklings get into this lake from the woods?”

  “There’s a point there,” Daniken said. “And I would tend to agree with you if it wasn’t for the fact that once already you’ve reported a darkling on the trail, and we almost had those elle folk break through the warding as well.”

  “But this lake seems like it’s been here for a while,” Abagail argued.

  “You can’t honestly be thinking of crossing it, can you?” Leona asked.

  Abagail looked down at her afflicted palm. “I don’t feel anything coming from the lake,” she reported. “If that makes any difference. But sometimes it’s hit or miss.”

  Daniken nodded and stepped forward. She struck her finger against the moon scepter and a ripple of music and light shimmered from the depths. With her other hand she directed the light out across the lake. It skirted over the water, mingling with the fog to glow eerily off the green surface of the lake.

  Nothing moved.

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” Rorick said. “We should all be prepared for something anyway.” He unlatched his hammer.

  Abagail drew her sword and tried to ignore Leona rolling her eyes as she pulled the kitchen knife from her boot.

  No one moved. Daniken looked like she was about to be sick, and Rorick acted like he was building up his courage. For all of their bravado at wanting to eradicate the darklings, both of them seemed to turn into children jumping at shadows when faced with uncertainty.

  Abagail rolled her eyes and stepped out onto the first moss covered rock of the land bridge. She spun the sword in her hand nervously and took a deep breath. She pressed on, and soon she was joined by Leona. The rocks were slick under her feet. At random intervals there was some kind of give to the stones. Maybe they weren’t stones at all.

  Maybe logs? Maybe someone had made this bridge and time and weather had taken its toll on them. But where are the railings?

  As she
walked, Abagail cast her eyes around, looking for anything that might be a railing. Maybe the railing had fallen off into the lake? She tried to find evidence of that, but she couldn’t.

  Her foot slipped, and she went down on one knee, barely catching herself with the point of the sword stabbed into the bridge beneath her. Her heart raced in her chest, and sweat instantly bloomed on her forehead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Abbie!” Leona said from over her shoulder. “Be careful!”

  “What’s going on up there?” Daniken said, her voice echoing across the silent lake from some distance behind them.

  “Abbie almost fell in,” Leona called back.

  “Is she ok?” Rorick asked.

  “I’m fine!” Abagail called. She pushed to her feet, her knees shaky with her near mishap. Okay, she thought. You can do this. She took a step forward, making sure her foot was secure before putting any weight on it.

  “This is going to take forever,” Abagail said. She looked off to the trail to the left. “It would have been easier to go that way.”

  “Should we turn around?” Leona asked.

  “We are almost halfway, if we turn around we have just about the same distance to travel toward either shore.”

  “Abbie, are you bleeding?” Leona asked, worry in her voice.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Abagail looked down at her leg and she saw blood on the stone as well. “Where is that coming from?” she asked. More blood welled up out of the stone and slipped over the edge of the mossy surface. The blood was dark, nearly black.

  “It’s on the tip of your sword,” Leona told her, taking a step away from the bleeding stone.

  “What’s wrong?” Rorick called, this time closer to them.

  “Turn around, go back,” Abagail told them. “I don’t know what’s happening, but the stone I just stabbed into is bleeding.”

  Daniken hissed. A swell of silver light came from behind them and bathed the lake in moonlit glory in the overcast day.

  The stone beneath her feet shivered in the light.