Page 24 of The Pastel Prince

“Why would my mother have such a tome?”

“She is a learned woman. We cannot know all the world if we limit ourselves to reading only that which makes us comfortable. History is riddled with unpleasant things that elves had done to other races as well as our own kind. It is never pleasant to read, but we must know what we have done wrong in the past so that we do not commit the same errors in the future.”

“True,” I murmured, wishing that I could hand the tome back to Beirach. I did not like the feel of its weathered binding on my palms. “So this well, you think it to be the well behind the sacred portal in the Witherhorn?”

“Possibly. The drawing is what worries me the most. Do you know what this creature is?” I tapped the sketch of the monstrous thing drawing water from the well. “Is the ghoul, if it is a ghoul, trying to cure himself?”

“I suspect it is not a ghoul, but a lich in the making,” Beirach said, his brow furrowing as he ran a finger over the unintelligible writings peppered over the pages. A dread chill ran down my spine at the mention of such a vile thing. He peeked at me, long dark red lashes framing somber sky blueeyes. “How much education did you get on such things before you left for the city?”

“Not much, and my time with Aelir was spent trying to teach him our basic tenets. I assume the boy’s tutor is instructing him in dark magicks, so he has a good knowledge when he takes over the mantle of vills master of Renedith.”

“I keep forgetting that you were taken from your family at such a young age.” He gently touched the pale white mark on my brow. “She chose well.”

I thought to debate that but held my tongue. A winged beetle flew in the window, landing on the wall to study us, antenna wiggling. “A lich is an undead wizard. Many necromancers wish to raise one or, if they are powerful enough, to become one. Living forever is appealing to many, even though it goes against the balance of life and death.”

“But this water seems to be flowing toward the sorcerer. If this is the wellspring that heals all ills, would that not be counterproductive to becoming a lich?”

“It would,” he concurred, tapping at the wild writings under the imagery. “Unless one tainted the waters of the well.”

“By the goddess,” I squeaked, my sight flying from the page to Beirach. “If this is truly the fountain of Danubia…”

“Then the gems would be required to open it.” He flipped back a page, dust rolling up into the sunbeam flowing over us. The beetle took to wing, its black carapace glassy in the midday light. It landed above us. Beirach nudged me. I glanced down from the insect on the wall a foot above my head to stare at a detailed map of Melowynn. My gaze moved from the southern city, and capital, to the Verboten. Each temple of Danubia was shown. “If this dark mage…” I noted he did not name his son, which was understandable. A parent would hold out all hope. “Had started at the western tip of the Verboten, he would have swept into your aunt’s village first, this one second, and wouldhave moved onto the next clan, which would be the Ursa village seated along the eastern edge of the forest.”

“Your temple is here,” I said, barely touching the map to avoid the shivers touching the book cast over me. “If it is Maverus, he would know exactly where it was.”

“If this map is known to whoever this necromancer is, he will have an easy march to all the druid encampments. If his magicks are as advanced as they appear to be, he will move like the wind, a dark cloud of sickness and decay that we cannot hope to catch up with. If this is his goal, then we must head to the base of the Witherhorn, locate the well, and prepare to battle him at the door. We cannot allow him to open the gate and sully the spring.”

Another beetle flew in the window, its wings beating as loudly as Tezen’s. It joined its brother on the wall above us. Something about the dark insect made me edgy. I had never seen such a large beetle in our woods before. Its oversized mandibles seemed to be coated in something viscous. I could not look away…

“Kenton?” Beirach asked, his voice lost as a swarm of beetles exploded through the open window. The ones above me dove at me, mandibles sinking into my neck, the pain like a fire brand to my skin. The room filled with biting insects. We both shot to our feet, slapping madly at the beetles attached to our flesh. I lashed out at the cloud with the book we had been studying while Beirach growled out a spell that hit the winged horde with a flare of dark blue energy, filling the air with static sparks much like rubbing one’s hair with a cloth. The mass of insects exploded, legs and wings and beetle bits coating the walls of my mother’s library. Something skittered down my back into the top of my trousers. I danced madly, trying to slap my ass with the dark tome.

“What in the name of Danubia?” Beirach panted as he tore a beetle from his forearm and then flung it to the floor. A big boot ended the insect’s life. A bite on my left buttock sent me into a tighter spiral. “Hold still.”

The slap to my backside stole my breath. The sound was terrible. A wet, slick crack followed by juices slithering down my thigh.

“Oh goddess, that is disgusting!” I reached back to rub my sore ass just as Beirach stepped closer to push braids from my face and neck. “They burn like fire,” I said as if he didn’t know. His left cheek bore a welt as did his neck.

“Some salve will take the sting out,” he said, inspecting my throat carefully as he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small ceramic bottle with an old cork stopper. “It’s a simple balm made of pine sap, July crocus, and tender shoots of willow seed.” I tipped my head back to allow him to apply his salve. The burn began to fade almost immediately. I sighed at the relief. My gaze caught his. “I can apply some to the bite on your…” He waved the bottle at my ass. Heat raced all the way to the tips of my ears, but I hooked a thumb into the band of my slacks and gently pulled one side down. His nostrils flared. “I promise to only look upon your backside in the way of a healer.”

“Cannot you gaze upon it in the way of an admirer?” I asked, shocking myself at how brazen I was becoming. This was hardly the time nor the place for such behavior, but I seemed unable to stop myself. Life was short as Tezen said. Ours could be incredibly brief. Mayhap the pixie had the right of it after all…

“That is how I always look upon you,” he replied in a shaky breath.

Something collided with the side of his head. He jerked and flailed. A lone beetle flew madly about the room, impacting with the walls until it hovered shakily, emitted a scream that made usboth wince, and then burst open. A thick sulfurous cloud wafted upward from the dead insects all around us. The fog hung high in the air, shifting by the ceiling, until a horrid laugh shattered the cloud like a hammer to a mirror. As quickly as the laugh appeared it disappeared, leaving nothing but the foul stench of rotted flesh.

Beirach said nothing, but the tension in his jaw told me that he knew that laugh all too well. My heart ached for him anew.

I hoisted up my trousers. The moment of playful flirtation over.

“Perhaps you should tend to that particular bite,” Beirach mumbled and handed me the corked bottle, backed away, and bent down to pick up the book. “We shall borrow this book from her library, but we must make sure to return it in good shape when we are done with it. Your mother would not look kindly on me if I failed to return that which she prizes in less than perfect condition.”

His sight roamed over my face.

“We will return it to her. And she will scold us for the insect innards on her tome,” I said.

He tucked the book under his arm and then cupped my face in his hand. “She will, and it will be a joyous scolding.”

I turned my face into his hand and kissed his palm. I longed for the day that my mother would be facing us, her finger wagging, as Beirach stood at my side looking down at me as more than a simple admirer. I wanted his loving gaze on me that day and for all the days after.

---