Esterpine

Claire gazed in open shock at the Sprite before her. She didn't even bother concealing it. "You...you're old." In all her surprise she'd forgotten her manners. But he was, after all, old. His hair was white and thinned, his skin wrinkled. He looked positively...ancient. But Sprites didn't get old, did they? She'd never seen one.

The Sprite gave a bark of laughter, not bothering to look up from the easel where he was painting. She saw part of his work, a unicorn black as midnight, almost iridescent like Talon's scales. Its eyes looked so real, they seemed to watch her, even at an angle.

"Forgive me, Kenya," Princess Taylynn threw her an appalled glare. "She is not familiar with our...customs—"

"Bah! She speaks the truth." The Sprite waved a paintbrush in dismissal. Taylynn bowed her head. He looked up then, his eyes falling on Taylynn's figure. "I wondered when you would bring her to me, Elam."

"I have been...away."

"Yes." He harrumphed, set his brush down, wiped his hands, and turned to better see them both. "You weren't exaggerating," he said at last. Claire felt the weight of his scrutiny heavy on her. "She looks near identical, does she not? I see now why you chose her."

Claire opened her mouth but couldn't find the words.

"I had hoped—"

"I know exactly what you had hoped, girl," he grumbled. "Be gone. I will speak with her alone."

"Of course, Kenya." Taylynn bowed. She did not appear offended in the slightest. Was this old Sprite her...teacher? They spoke as if it were so—teacher and student. Taylynn had addressed him with reverence, with the same honored title Claire used with Lord Marquin.

Once Taylynn was gone from the cluttered dwelling, the Sprite turned his weighty attention upon her. "Sit, girl. Sit. It tires me to see you standing. These old bones aren't what they once were, as you so obviously pointed out."

"I...I'm sorry. I never meant offense." She'd found her voice at last.

"And you gave none. Now, sit."

She'd never fallen into a chair so quickly. She watched him, unsure of what to make of this. Who was he? Why had Taylynn brought her here? The day already felt unusually long. Racing through the forest, fighting for her life. Confirmation of who she had descended from. And now...this?

"I know why she brought you to me." He scowled, accentuating his wrinkles. "Training, I'm sure. She's mentioned it before, but I never agreed to it."

"I...training?" She blinked. "Lord Marquin—"

"Lord Marquin?! That stuffy—?" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "I am sure the queen's favorite has been superb in his instruction. Oh, yes." He harrumphed again, leaning back. "Lord Marquin hasn't walked the forest long enough to know the way things used to be. Well now...I suppose I should introduce myself, since our facilitator has run off."

"You sent her away—"

"Yes—yes. I know. Gods above, give me patience."

A grin spread across her face. She liked him already. She couldn't have said why. But she did. He was completely unexpected. Not the slightest bit bothered by her lack of decorum.

"You may call me Pelwyn," he said. "Unless I agree to become your tutor, in which case, Kenya until you earn the privilege of my name."

She opened her mouth—

"And yes, I already know who you are, Claire Evans. Taylynn told me about you years ago."

She sputtered. "Ye—years ago? But, that's...that's..."

"Not possible?"

She stared at him. This was too much. Today was too much.

"Let me guess, you have questions?"

A strangled laugh fell from her lips. "Who are you?"

"Someone who would see his past wrongs righted. Someone who has spent far too long among the trees waiting for the opportunity to fix things." She gaped at him. He must have seen her disbelief for what it was. "I knew her, you know? Isabella. That's why I look so old. Sprites don't age, as I'm sure your instructor has probably—hopefully?—informed you. We are immortal. Entirely immortal. Even the Drengr age and die."

"Then...then how are you...why are you...?"

"Because I fight it, girl! I fight it every gods damned day."

She swallowed. "The call of the King Tree?"

He didn't answer. But that was answer enough. His eyes had gone unfocused, perhaps reliving the long years of his life. She let his words sink in—truly sink in. "But you must be fifty thousand years old. How?!"

"Are you daft?"

All the air left her chest. "But you said..."

"I know what I said. That I'm immortal. So I don't see why you're so shocked. I've resisted the urge to scamper off into the forest and die. And every day that I resist, a small part of my body dies. See me? I'm dying. But I'm not dying in the same way that I would be if I ate the fruit."

Her eyes widened. "You...you're giving up reincarnation."

"Among other things...yes. But not for long. I will find the tree before my death comes. Not long now."

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, hoping he'd elaborate on the righting past wrongs thing. Was this too private a question?

"You—among other things. Taylynn, mostly. After I trained her..." He shook his head. "Perhaps I've already waited long enough. Taylynn isn't the only one who speaks with the Tree, you know."

"But I thought—"

"Forget everything you ever thought. Everything you know about us, girl, unless you hear it from me or Taylynn. Young Sprites have forgotten many of our ways, thanks to the disruption of Isabella's..." He cleared his throat. "Choices. It always comes down to choice. No, plenty of Sprites communed with the Tree once upon a time. Now, it only seems to speak to the queen and her descendants. But I hear it still, oh yes. I hear it..." He fell silent, brooding.

She watched him, mouth open, hardly sure what to make of this. "So you...you really knew her? What was she like? Why did she—"

"Good gods! When I said you'd have questions, I didn't mean ask them all at once!"

"I take it the crankiness comes with old age?" She crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow.

He burst into laughter. "Among other things." He stretched. His joints cracked like an old tree. He sighed, relieved. "That's better. Now—"

"My training."

"Yes, yes."

Her eagerness was getting the better of her. This was exactly what she'd needed, what she hoped to find in coming here. Someone who would tell her things without sugarcoating them, someone who wasn't stuffy and proper and polite. Someone who could train her the way she needed to be trained.

"I haven't committed to anything," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "I see by the look on your face, all moonstruck-like, you think I'm going to solve all your problems. Varti yifah!"

Her eyes widened. Jeanine had taught her that one, certainly not a proper stuffy lord like Lord Marquin. It was a swear word. The Sprites equivalent of 'gods above' but a bit more derogatory. Polite Sprites didn't use it. She'd only heard it spoken among a few.

She cleared her throat. "You said you knew about me years ago. How?"

"Ah. That's not my buisness. You'll have to ask Taylynn about it. But yes. I did."

A sinking suspicion filled the pit of her stomach. "All of this—" She waved a hand. "I was meant to come here, wasn't it? To Dragonwall? Cyrus was meant to fall into my cornfield. All of it."

"Meddlesome girl!" he hissed. Her eyes widened. "No, no. Gods. Not you. The other one."

"Taylynn?" she asked. He barked a laugh. Her eyes widened as the truth sank in. "She's responsible for it, isn't she? For me? For this?"

"You'll have to take that up with her, as I said—"

Someone pounded on the door. Taylynn. Dust fell from the ceiling. Claire took a moment to look around. They were beneath the roots of a giant tree. But rather than glass, the walls were made of wood and shelves covered every spare inch. Nicknacks and books and small paintings. Everywhere she looked, there was something to stare at.

"Kenya?" Taylynn called. "May I enter now? Are you finished?"

"Varti yifah! Never a moment of peace from you young ones. Yes," he shouted. "By all means be quick about it."

Taylynn walked in and looked between them. "I hope you've survived his temper."

"Barely," Claire said, eying Taylynn with growing curiosity.

"Well?" Taylynn snapped, looking at Pelwyn. "Will you help her?"

Pelwyn sighed, slouching back into his chair. "I suppose I have no choice, do I?"

"You wanted to exonerate yourself. This seems a good way."

"Training you was—"

"She is more important than I will ever be, Kenya." Taylynn pinned Pelwyn with her gaze. "We both know it. It would be stupid for you to argue it. And pointless. I know the Tree has already spoken to you on this matter. Do not deny it."

Claire gazed between them open-mouthed. "Uhm. I think I'm missing a lot."

"Fine. I'll train her," Pelwyn snapped back. "But that's it. After that, I'm going to find it."

Taylynn gave a curt nod. "I will leave you to it, then. Claire? Learn all you can while you are with him. Your time here is limited. Things are happening—" She stopped herself, snapping her mouth shut. "I am needed elsewhere. I will leave you both." At that, she slipped from the little cottage and disappeared.

"Uhm...Does she always do that?"

Pelwyn barked a laugh. "You get used to her."

Would she? She hoped that Taylynn wouldn't disappear entirely. She had questions. Questions that Pelwyn seemed reluctant to answer. "So...I guess I should call you Kenya then?"

"If you want me to teach you." He waited for her to contradict him. She didn't. "Good. We won't do much in here. Outside. Come." He stood faster than she would have expected for an old man, and strode from his cottage. "I live outside the city of Esterpine for a reason. I've fallen out of memory for most. Maybe all. I don't think even Queen Jade knows I'm here."

She gathered his meaning well enough. "Why are you here?" she asked, hoping to get a strait answer this time.

He sighed, leading her to a small area behind his cottage. A garden. She gasped, delighted. It was a smaller version of what she'd seen outside of the palace. "Ah, yes. I delight in growing things," he said. "Perhaps too much so."

He took a seat on the only bench in the garden and motioned for her to sit on the ground facing him. "I am here because a long time ago, Isabella and I were inseparable. I was so...angry when Vigilance came to her. So...jealous. She cared for him, you know. You've heard the stories, I'm sure? I could see it then and didn't trust it. Didn't like it. We said some things..." He shook his head and sighed. "I can't fix the past. But I will regret the role I played in all that happened."

Claire frowned.

"The Drengr," he said by way of explanation. "The humanity she gifted to them. Her tricks. I knew exactly what her orders were from the Tree. I did nothing to stop her. Encouraged her, some might say."

"So you blame yourself," she said. He didn't respond. She sat cross-legged, looking up at him. "Kenya, ana luth aikah kihar, nih ayas." Teacher, it was her choice, not yours.

Pelwyn lifted an eyebrow, suddenly amused. "Do not think that your mastery of our language will work on me, Elam."

At this, she chuckled. At least he wasn't calling her girl now. Even still, it was worth a shot.

"Now, let us begin. Are you ready?" She nodded. "Good. All life is connected. A subtle energy flows through everything. I'm sure you have felt it. For some, it manifests as tingles across the skin, or a feeling in the pit of your stomach. But it is there. All magic does is simply manipulate that energy. For the Drengr, their crude and vile manipulation is an abomination of what the world intended. They stole it from us, you know. But that is a story for another time. Anyway, Drengr magic, Magoi magic, which all came from the Asarlaí, seeks to control." She knew this already, but didn't dare interrupt. "We Sprites have a different way of going about things. We were once Spirit Singers. Aolis told you that, I'm sure?" She nodded. "Good. Our magic comes from song, or so many here believe. But no, it is deeper than that. Have you ever made something happen without muttering a single word?" Her eyes widened. "Yes? I thought so. Truly powerful Sprites don't need to say a thing. The world around us knows what we want, but only if we are in tune with it enough to allow it."

She licked her lips. "And how...how do I get in tune with it?"

"Well, that's what I'm going to teach you, isn't it?"

A thrill shot through her, tickling her skin. "Why didn't Lord Marquin tell me any of this."

"Because that groveling bat is too young. Most of them are. Most of them have forgotten the way things were when Isabella walked this forest. The way things were before...before her downfall."

Claire's eyebrows drew together. "Her downfall?"

"Another story for another time. You want to learn or not?"

"Oh. Yes. Please, Kenya. Continue."

"Thank you." He gave her a long look. "To be in tune with your surroundings, you must possess a certain awareness. Focus is key. I know that sounds..."

"Obvious?"

"Hah! You'll see how obvious it seems once you try it."

It wouldn't be easy. That's what he meant. And why should it be? She considered everything that had happened. "Whenever I've done anything of note, like Sprite Fire—"

"Lac alnar ellohdar," he said. She frowned. "So you've conjured them, then? The green flames? Good."

"What does that mean? I understand fire, but the other words."

"Lac alnar. There isn't a direct translation. Of being immortal, or eternal. Eternal flame."

"Lac alnar ellohdar," she repeated. Eternal flames. The hairs on her arm stood on end.

"Feel that?" he asked. She jerked. "Yes, I thought so. That is what comes with awareness. The subtle change in the air just by saying and thinking of the thing you conjured. You could probably summon them without singing a word if you tried. Singing is for novices."

She opened and closed her mouth. Novices? She thought back to her struggle in the sky the night she'd tried and failed repeatedly to summon her Sprite Fire before finally succeeding. A frown pulled at her lips.

Pelwyn opened his hand and she gasped. Green flames danced in his palm. This was also the same fire that burned eternally in her fireplace at the palace.

"But..." She blinked. "You didn't even say a word."

"Exactly. Now, would you like to learn?"

She nodded. "Neem gui, Kenya. Shalaya." Yes please, Teacher. Thank you.

"Good. See the asymyn there? Pluck one of its blossoms."

"The jasmine?"

"Varti yifah, Elam!" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"All right, all right." She jumped up to comply, handing him the blossom. He held it in his palm as she took a seat.

"Commit this blossom to memory. You see it in your mind, no?"

She nodded. "I see it."

"Good. Now close your eyes. Empty your mind. Picture just the asymyn. Nothing else. Your mind should be completely clear. Do you know how it smells? How it felt on your fingers? You can think of that too. Just that. Only that which pertains to this flower here. Good. Yes, let your shoulders relax. Take deep inhales. Hold for three seconds, then release."

He began guiding her through a meditative breathing exercise. But surely it couldn't be that easy. She did as he asked, picturing nothing more than the blossom. Hopefully Koldis wouldn't be wondering where she was—

"No!" he snapped. She jerked, opening her eyes. "You are not thinking only of the blossom, are you?"

"I was!" she insisted.

"No, you weren't."

"Well, I suppose I got distracted." By Koldis, but she didn't say that out loud.

"I know. I can tell. Remember, I am in tune with my surroundings. And when you tap into the energy around you by emptying your mind, I can see it—feel it. Don't think you can slip past me. Now, try again. The blossom."

And so they spent the next hour practicing. She did her best to focus on the blossom and only the blossom. But stray thoughts still wormed their way in. Pelwyn was the breakthrough she had hoped for. She needed a miracle if she was going to master Sprite magic and find a balance. She didn't have months or even years. Every day was a day longer for Kane. She had to do this.

Even if it seemed that focusing on a single blossom felt completely useless.

Pelwyn insisted that it was important, and when he grew tired and impatient with her lack of focus—more impatient than usual—he sent her away with the blossom and told her to practice. "When you come back tomorrow, you will picture the flower in your mind so clearly, that you will create a duplicate in my palm." She gaped at him, not quite understanding. "I'll know if you don't practice. Now, off with you. These old bones are tired."

She took the blossom and bid him a respectful goodbye before departing.

It wasn't difficult, finding her way back to Esterpine. The walk gave her time to practice. But it was hard to empty her mind and think only of the blossom. She tripped on a root and swore, then gave up entirely.

"What's that?" Koldis asked when she shut the door to their suite. He was sitting on the sofa with another book in hand, probably the same one on weaponry and warfare or whatever it was he often read.

"A flower," she said, holding it up. "You like it?"

He snorted, lifting an eyebrow. "You going to tell me who Taylynn took you to see? I doubt she took you off to hunt for flowers."

"My new teacher," she answered.

He opened his mouth—

"We're going to train in secret," she added. "The queen doesn't know about him. So I'll spend my mornings with Lord Marquin and my afternoons with—" She stopped herself just short of saying his name. "Anyway, you need not worry. It's quite safe."

He exhaled, slumping back into the sofa. "Fine. Whatever. Feowen took me into the trees while you were busy, to look at the sky."

"Oh, good. Feeling any better?"

He shrugged. "Maybe if I don't have to deal with that Sprite princess anymore I'll be better."

"Hah!" She couldn't help her laugh at the way he spoke of Taylynn.

"Where'd she run off to, anyway?" he added. "Never mind, I don't care. I'm more interested in this mysterious teacher of yours. What happened?"

She told him everything she could without giving away Pelwyn's name, and swore him to secrecy.

Koldis was amused. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who can't stand Lord Marquin. But even better, he sounds far older and wiser than Princess Taylynn. No wonder she disappeared during your training."

"She probably just slipped off into the forest again, you know, to do whatever it is she does."

"Well, good," he said, frowning. "And good riddance, too."

"Gods. You really don't like her."

"Understatement," he amended. "I can't stand her."

"Then why do you get so gushy-eyed whenever you look at her? Hmm?" She wagged her eyebrows. Koldis sputtered, gaping at her. He muttered something about women and quickly returned to his book.

She left him and retreated to her room where she collapsed onto her bed. Just a day ago, she'd summoned water. Today, she'd fought a rotting patch of forest, discovered her lineage, and argued with an old Sprite who had known Isabella. It was...a lot. She just needed to rest. A few minutes, and then she'd practice again.

When she next woke, it was already early morning the following day. So much for practicing. She'd slept an entire evening and straight through the night. And all her dreams were of darkness and decay, as if the forest was trying to tell her something. As if the King Tree needed her to know that things weren't right, and perhaps she was the only one who could fix them. 

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Happy Friday Bookdragons! 

I had so much fun writing this chapter. I really enjoy dialogue-heavy chapters and this one was packed with it. We all knew Claire was going to need a miracle of sorts to conquer her Sprite magic in a shorter period of time. She certainly doesn't have years. So hopefully Pelwyn is exactly what she needed. I certainly have a soft spot for the old coot. 

Next week's chapter is also from Claire's POV and is called "Learning Focus" so i'm sure you can guess what it's about. 

Have a great weekend and a great week.

All my best,

Mel