Page 16 of The Pastel Prince

“No.” I cleared my throat then marched around the archdruid, straight into the heart of the village. Elves of all ages were frozen in place, many caught unawares, many with fearful looks. “By the goddess,” I murmured as we slowly moved among the cursed villagers.

Flies zipped around us, the beehives by the well were busy with tiny insects coated with pollen returned for the night, and a pair of green dragonflies flew by.

“Naught has touched the insects it seems,” Beirach commented as we slowly made our way to the temple. It was much like the one Beirach tended. Domed, the stone walls supporting a thick growth of dark green ivy with tiny white flowers filling the still air with a rich scent. “This tells me that my impressions of the pond hold true.”

“A curse?” Tezen asked, her picks now lowered, for there seemed no danger here, only the inhabitants cast in gray stone.

“Mayhap, Kenton, can you feel anything amiss with the soil or plants?” Beirach asked, and I placed my hand against the ivy on the temple wall.

It hummed with life, the pulse of rich nutrients coursing through it as it strove to produce more buds. I removed my hand from the vines and kneeled down to dig into the dirt. The soil was warm. I lifted a handful to study it. An earthworm wiggled out of the clump, alive and seemingly unaffected. The ground itself was rich and brown, alive in all good ways.

“The soil and plants are healthy,” I announced, placing the ball of dirt back where it belonged. I stayed on my knee, my sight trying to push into the temple. The torches and braziers were dark and cold. “The fountain is dry,” I noted.

Beirach tapped a torch with his staff and a dancing blue flame erupted to throw the interior into muted light.

“The fountain has been destroyed,” Tezen stated, flying to the stone base where a statue of Danubia in flowing robes cradling a small fawn once stood. The white limestone carving had been shattered into bits with chunks of statuary scattered about. “Why would someone do this?”

“The gem is missing,” Beirach said, striding into the temple, his boots crunching the small bits of rock that once were our goddess.

“The gem?” Tezen asked, dropping down to sit on my shoulder as I remained on one knee at the entrance. I rose and shook off my fear.

“Each temple of Danubia has a fountain, and each fountain is a likeness of the goddess. Inset in each carving is a holy gemstone,” I explained. “The stone is chosen by the wilder warden and priestess of the clan to reflect that which the peoples in their septs are adept at. Healing would be represented by a pink sapphire, and the elk clans have blue diamonds, and so on.”

Beirach moved around the fountain’s base, water seeping from the earth that would have been flowing magically into the likeness of the goddess, mumbling to himself.

“Who would do such a thing to a holy site?” I asked as I stepped up beside the archdruid, my foot catching on something hidden in the shadows. Beirach grabbed my arm, steadying me, the light from the magical antler bound to his staff shining down to illuminate what had tripped me.

A fine ankle coated with stone.

My sight flew from the foot to the woman’s face.

“Goddess no,” I gasped, staring down in horror at my aunt. Her mouth opened, her hand up as if she was shouting a spell when she was struck down. She resembled my mother so much that I cried out, tears welling in my eyes. “Aunt Fayeth,” I shouted and reached for her.

“No, do not touch her.” Beirach tugged me back, his grip on my biceps strong, and turned me from the sight. “Come with us, outside. Come now.”

I stumbled along at his side, coughing and sputtering, trying to quell the tears as best I could.

“Sit, we shall take a moment here to pray for the cursed,” Beirach said, leading me outside to sit down beside a small flower garden brimming with pink, purple, and yellow night dancers. The flowers bowed toward me as my legs buckled. Tezen lighted on my shoulder. She patted my wet cheek and dabbed at my face with the hem of her undershirt.

Beirach began to speak, his tone low and reverent.

“Gracious Danubia,

Bring gentle respite to these children of yours as they venture onward,

Clasp them to you, guide them from their suffering into the light of the life giver,

Cleave them onto you so that they may cycle back into the glory that is your wild heart.”

Shaken and depleted, I bowed to place my forehead on the ground where once small happy feet played and allowed my salty tears to fall.

THE FIRE LEAPED, SPARKS FLOATED SKYWARD, our camp painfully still.

We’d prayed at the stricken camp, then set up wards. Well, Beirach set up the wards as Tezen and I watched from the hilltop, our horse’s reins in my hand. Beirach walked slowly around the village, his staff glowing blue, his words whispered. Darters pestered the horses, tiny biting midges that enjoyed nibbling on exposed flesh. I’d rubbed the beasts down with a paste of willow root and ground yellow pumice, and even that foul smelling concoction did little to keep the bloodsuckers away.

The pixie and I waited, patiently, as our archdruid encircled the fallen settlement with a spell that would repel all who walked into it. When he was done, he climbed the hillock to us, his blue eyes void of his usual spark. I suspected we all harbored the same melancholy and worry. My chest was heavy with concern.

“That should keep most of the creatures of the wood away.” Beirach sighed, strapping his staff to his gelding, then resting his brow on the neck of Methril. “Any elves or humans that venture near will feel a darkness settle upon them.”

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