Page 36 of The Pastel Prince

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 finerskills 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 offeringswe 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 wifeandmy 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 inboth 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.”