Page 4 of The Pastel Prince

“No, the raven was found along the furthest border of our lands where the tributary of the Vilhall River forks into the lands of the Mossbells.”

A cold shiver of unease skipped down my spine. A raven not delivering its missive was rare, but not wholly unheard of. Eagles preyed on the ravens as did the giant vultures that soared over the Witherhorn range. In the days of the house wars, when the Stillcloud, Mossbell, and Dewfall houses had fallen into bloody battles over land, ravens would be shot from the sky. But today the elven noble houses were living in peace, although they bickered quite vocally at the yearly meets. “Go and see what you think, druid.” That use of my beliefs caused me even more alarm as he rarely liked to discuss the fact that I was a nature mage. I turned from the old elf, padded to his desk, and gawked at the raven statuary lying atop a folded table linen. My gaze flew from the stone bird to Umeris. “That is not a statue. That is a raven. There was no missive attached to its leg, but it carries the band of the wood elves of your tribe.” I reached out to pick up the poor creature. “I caution you not to touch the bird as the scout who did so is now with the healers battling valiantly to save his arm.”

Fear, dark and frigid, settled in my stomach. The bird was perfect in every aspect down to the mites on its feathers and legs. Yet, it was not a bird at all. Not now. It was stone, cold and unalive, where once a living creature had been.

“There was no missive?” I asked, my voice shaky and weak. The bird stared at me with dead gray eyes, its beak slightly open, the pointed tongue within stone as well.

“No, the messenger cited it barren of any news from the regions of your people.”

My head spun. I placed my hands on the desk to bolster myself. “But why would a trained raven leave our lands without a letter?”

“That I cannot say. Perhaps it escaped or whoever sent it assumed it would relay information to you.” Umeris paused. I felt the guilt he wielded so well against his grandson fall on my back like a cat-o’-nine-tails. “Of course, you have not taken the liberty to avail yourself of my gracious offer to learn beyond the rudimentary wild spells and homemade hag potions your people are so fond of, so if it did contain any news of import it would not have been able to convey any urgency.”

I bit back what I wished to say. What good would it do to anger the man? Pointing out that I had requested some spell books to aid me in advancing my skills to help me speak with beasts and birds among other druidic magicks had been denied by Aelir’s tutor, who, I was sure, had been given blessing to do so by Umeris. They would not wish the heir to be exposed to such backward teachings after all. Not that I planned to teach the lad, I just wished to teach myself.

“I must go back at once,” I choked out.

“I agree. If this is a plague of some sort that is overtaking the Verboten woods, then it must be stopped there. The king sits just a moon cycle from the furthest edge of your forest and as he has no heirs or inclination to produce one, we must ensure that no sickness of the Rhaes reaches him or the borders of the civilized communities.”

Rhaes. Civilized communities. Wild spells and hag potions. All at once, it all seemed too much to bear. I turned on the man seated so regally in the warm rays, my hands balled into fists, anger seething inside like a kettle on a raging fire.

“We arenotuncivilized or strange. We’re people just like you. We are you!” I shouted loudly. Umeris cocked a slim brow. The ivy that climbed ornate trellises began to grow andsnake outward from the finely worked metal lattices toward the reclining advisor to the king.

“I would warn you to temper yourself, boy.” Umeris never batted a lash at the outburst. I waged a fierce battle for a moment. Then the anger that had flared up so unexpectedly fizzled out. The ivy retracted into its mother plants. “Now that you are in possession of yourself once more, we will continue this meeting. Since you are a fledgling in druidic crafts, I have arranged for you to meet and travel with one far more educated than you. An archdruid of some renown for even my court mages suggested them when this oddity was shown to them.”

I grimaced internally. Traveling with a decrepit old woman who had not bathed for a millennium would surely be an ordeal.

“A wise decision,” I earnestly replied. My magicks were that of a novitiate. Whatever kind of magicks had taken the bird, and perhaps stricken my clan, was beyond my meager skills.

“We pride ourselves on wisdom, young man,” Umeris reminded me as if I would have dared to forget. “Take what you need from the keep and head out. You may have one raven to take with you for communication. I expect daily updates. I have provisioned you one of our horses with enough food to last you for a tenday. You will carry a Stillcloud crest showing that you are a diplomat of the vills and liaison to the Rhaes, so you may claim whatever food and lodgings for you and your steed during your journey. Seek out a temple of Danubia that sits along the Black Lake. There you will find Beirach Dreyath. He has been appraised of your impending arrival. When you reach the village and you find the danger has passed, let me know.”

My fingernails pressed into my dirty palms. “What will you do if the plague has spread?”

“We are not without our own medicines and magicks. Now go. My foot throbs.”

I thought to yell more but took my leave, bowing deeply before stalking from the solarium with abject terror riding on my shoulder like a snowy falcon.

I knew full well what Umeris meant with his final reply. The humans had witnessed the magicks that the elves could unleash on a sickly town. There would be no survivors to bring the plague into Melowynn, for everyone who appeared ill would be incinerated, their homes burned to the ground, and their bones buried under magically sealed cairns. No burial trees where the departed could feel the rain, snow, and wind on them as they waited for Danubia to return them to the world.

The mere thought of such a thing made me feel ill.

I had to get home. As soon as I could. And I had to ensure that whatever it was that had claimed that raven had not taken my family or my people.

Packing for my journey was easy yet difficult.

I owned little clothing that was suitable for such a lengthy trip. Most of my attire were robes for daily wear—and those were well past their prime—and more elegant clothing for when I went to the capital with Aelir and Umeris. My brother had worn good leather armor crafted by one of the skilled leatherworkers in our village on our pilgrimage here, and so had I, but my old armor was far too small. I would need something for protection on the journey. Not that I foresaw any troubles on the busy roads leading into and out of Renedith.

The larger routes were well-maintained and guarded. Even the smaller lanes and footpaths were outlaw-free until one reached the edges of the vast Verboten woods. Small bands of robbers roamed the forest as did large and hungry beasts. I had no worries about finding an armory. They were plentiful. I had agoodly amount of coin saved from my monthly allowance from Umeris and would purchase some as I left the city confines.

What was proving difficult was choosing what to take and what to leave behind. I may well be gone for a very long time, and while I had few possessions, what I had I wished to keep. The books that had been gifted to me would have to remain until—or if—I returned. That concern was for a later date.

I had a bag already packed. In it were a few of my potions and a healing kit, a bedroll, and the white birch carving of Danubia that my mother had given me the eve before I had left. The details of the goddess’s face were rubbed off from my caressing it while I said my prayers before bed, but I cherished the smooth figurine just the same.

I stuffed some trousers and shirts into a cloth bag with my undergarments, balms, and tonics, sighed at the small parcel, and then took a moment to drink in my room. The shrine in the corner was cleared of the candles, feathers, and berries I placed in front of my now carefully stowed carving of my goddess. The bookshelf stood as it would, tomes on the shelves, next to a chair I had plucked from the discard pile bound for a bonfire. Many an evening I had spent there, reading to Aelir about nature and its wonders as was my job, but also one of my greatest joys.

Aelir was a bright boy, infinitely curious, and well-tempered, prone to stopping to pet the stray dogs that roamed the streets instead of kicking them as many upper-society children did. It would stoke my ego to no end to say that my teachings had given him such respect for nature, but I suspected it was due to his fine genetics more than my input. I would miss our nights by the fire with a book, the walks we took through the gardens, and our shared pilfered treats.

Heart welling with melancholy, I plucked my travel bag of worn woven wool, hoisted it to my shoulder, and went to the rookery. The caws of the ravens were comforting. They werechatty birds, speaking to each other all day long, and the sound had quickly become a familiar one.

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