A sudden descent shocked Larissa awake; her eyes sprang open, sleepiness vanishing.
Dawn was near, the sun crawling up between two snow-covered hills. Larissa could hear Badzabi's painful grunts, pushing himself hard. The flight was erratic, and she feared she would drop the child.
"Badzabi," she said with worry, "please don't force yourself. We must land." At the winged toad's belly, she could see some of his innards bursting out of where Rayhanei's beast's had gored him.
Badzabi did not respond but obeyed, making his landing as gentle as possible. He found a clearing between the oaks and firs. Larissa held the babe tightly, making certain that he didn't fall from her arms.
When Larissa dismounted, the winged toad, who had been standing strong after he touched the ground, let his true state show. He collapsed. Larissa let out a small shriek.
"I have failed you, mistress," uttered Badzabi. Blood trickled from its maw; the intense heat that usually came out had weakened to that of dying embers.
"I'm sorry." Larissa's words were a quiet squeak. He's dying because of me. The death of animals, and indeed this mystic beast, was not something she took lightly.
Sorrow beckoned the memory of the day she met him. It was two years ago. She had been out riding. She had not been alone; her cousins, Lyndon and Cassandra, went with her. Gryffin Goldermont's five sons had traveled with them for some time on the trail, each armed with the tall bows they were so proud of. Their game of roving had taken the blond, rowdy youths farther out into the plains, their loud banter and boasting fading. She had never been close to Lyndon or Cassandra, to be sure, but they kept far better company than Ladnavia. Near a patch of tall grasses and trees, Larissa had heard a noise, high and desperate. Her cousins hadn't heard it, lost in their talk of King Vance Blackwood's incompetence. Larissa had stopped, dismounted, tied her palfrey securely to a low-hanging branch, and set off after the sound. Near a pond, she had seen a toad with its leg stuck under a rock stuck in the mud. There had been no way to get near the creature without getting muck on herself. Her mother and father would not be pleased—and, indeed, were when she returned dirty—but she had not cared then. After she had freed it, the toad did not simply hop away. It had turned to her and spoke. "Great or small," the toad had said, "every life is inestimable." The toad had burst into a white flame, but its voice echoed from its ash. All that had been left was one fleshless leg. "For this act of benevolence," he had proclaimed, "I, Badzabi, once the Protector of the Scorched Plains of Ath'or, am in your service."
On some peaceful nights, she would dream of him. Together, they soared over the hills and valleys of Virtera; lands unvisited were invented by her own imagination. They were more than dreams, Larissa realized, he was there. He was always with me. Badzabi's presence had always felt separate from hers. Never had they suffered such violence in those dreams as they did last night. Larissa's eyes grew wet, and though he faced away from her, Badzabi could hear her sniffling.
"Weep not for me, mistress," the toad consoled, "it shall take more than a goring to destroy me. Nevertheless, as my form in this sphere weakens, so does our bond."
Larissa gently caressed him. "You must return," she said, "to recover?"
Badzabi grunted. "Back to slumber. You must do the same, for my summoning, me being here, puts you in danger. The spell draws from your strength. Yes … I can feel the weakness in your touch. That wound in your hand will not heal as quickly so long as this bond continues." Fresh, steaming blood pooled in the melting snow below him. "With these wounds, however, I will be gone shortly."
Badzabi was right; Larissa could feel the toll of the bond. Her head pounded, and her muscles ached all over as well. A drop of blood fell from one nostril. She was afraid to be alone with the child, yet she wanted the great toad to protect them. She stood there silently, watching the babe sleep. It's a shame we couldn't find a village, little one. Larissa gripped the little knife. But I'll protect you. I promise.
"Do not think I leave you unequipped, mistress. I know where I landed." Badzabi seemed to read her thoughts. "Ah, to return to Celtyrion's Wood," he mused at the shivering wood around him, "The fyri are hiding. The Bryteoaks and Wilewicks have long been felled, but I can still hear them whispering in these lesser trees." The branches and leaves shifted, yet Larissa felt no breeze. Badzabi bellowed to the snow-ladened trees, saying: "Is this how you greet an old friend?" Badzabi let out a massive guffaw that rattled the branches, though the effort seemed to hurt him. "Has the fyri grown so shy? Hah!"
A wisp of orange revealed itself, spilling out of a huge and ancient oak's hollow. "Your guests are not welcome," it said curtly and defensively. Its voice was masculine. "What sort of friend are you to brings us such unrest?"
Another wisp, this one amethyst in hue, appeared, resting on the tip of a short fir. This one sounded like a woman. "Humans always bring trouble," it said with some contempt, "Rare as it is, Tuwa and I are in agreement."
Yet another little wisp made itself known, though it hid itself in a shrub, its pretty lime-colored light sieving through the freezing branches. "If you two fear them, "it said with a boyish voice, skittish and uncertain, "I fear them, too!"
The orange wisp took offense, saying: "I am not afraid of them, Pwai." His glow pulsed angrily as he spoke. "You best watch what you say."
"There is no shame in being afraid," lectured the amethyst. She sighed. "There is courage in being honest."
"You calling me a liar, Caley?" The orange wisp's sudden burst made Larissa shield her eyes. "I'm no liar!"
The violet wisp remained undaunted. "You misunderstood me. I only said—"
"Enough!" Badzabi shouted to break up their bickering. The fyri stopped their arguing at once. "You lot haven't changed," he said without anger, "I've missed you all, truly, but …" Badzabi lifted his leg, which had been ravaged so badly that black and green bone was exposed, to show his torn belly, " … my time is short." When the wisps said nothing more, Badzabi went on. "Know that this is no ordinary human. She is of the nepheri race."
"A thinblood," he one called Caley concluded, boredom clear in her tones. "You've brought us a thinblood?"
"No," said Badzabi, "my mistress bears the mark of Lynesse."
A murmur rose from the fyri. They flew out of the wood and hovered before Larissa. Up close, she saw the bodies from which their lights emitted.
All were human in shape and about as tall as her hands, wrist to fingertip. Tuwa had the short horns of a bull, their tips glowing like hot irons. His eyes were a solid yellow, orbs of molten gold. Along with his sharp teeth, he had a pair of long fangs. From the top of each hand spouted a short, but sharp, spike of bone. Wings like that of a dragonfly's kept him in the air as he regarded Larissa with suspicion. "She doesn't look like much," he said brusquely, "I'd sooner serve the babe."
Caley possessed the violet wings of a butterfly, releasing purple pollen with every wing beat. Above her temples sat a pair of long whiplike feathers that swayed gently, licking the chilly air. "Great grandmother told me Lynesse could tame ill-tempered tahnyn with a single word," she said. She folded her hands behind her head as she drifted around Larissa in a circle. She sighed. "She doesn't look fit to command a bear cub."
Pwai had no wings, but rather four rings of jade floating off his back, smooth and brilliant, the smaller ones spinning within the smaller ones. The outer and largest one spanned to his shoulders. The hoops made a low hum as they spun in different directions and speeds. He was crowned with a shining aureole, floating above his head and blessing his long and wild green hair. "I, too, don't see the great summoner, in her. I mean this with no offense, of course." He seemed to cringe as he spoke as if he expected Larissa to swat him like a fly.
What do they mean? Do they see it unfit to assist me? Larissa was worried she either failed a test, brought on by these wisps, or one was to be thrust upon her, and she needed to act now. But how should she act? She knew not of these creatures; though she neared the end of Welvyt Stirn's account, the fyri, these strange little spirits, were never mentioned by the adventurer. Badzabi kept silent, watching her struggle.
"I … I … " She could not find the words. The fyri stopped approaching her, straining to hear her mumbling.
"She speaks," Caley commented, feigning amazement, "go on, and please be brief."
Yet, something in her soul, or rather in the vestiges of Lynesse's soul, knew what to do and say. In her dreams with Badzabi, words she needed to say had come to her yet vanished when she awoke. Such verses, when she tried to put them down with ink and quill, escaped her. The dreamy words faded as the darkness in her bedchamber did before the waking sun. The words came back, however, and with much clarity. Words that had retreated from the morning sun now returned with a brilliance of their own. Her touch of the ancient wisdom had her kneeling in the snow without thinking. The sting from their criticism melted away, yielding before humility. She now knew what to say, so she said it.
"I am Larissa Snowvale," she began, "but Lynesse, the Daughter of Ice and Protector of Beasts, Great and Small, shares my flesh though I am unworthy of her residence, as we are unworthy to stand before you. I humbly request your service and guidance. " The fyri seemed unmoved. The words that followed did not seem her own; it was the tongue of ancients, mysterious and forgotten and unstudied. They were like the verse of a poem. "Nim qasi ti'shi ab kab'sal ahmon, qal rom realmia oss kar ti razada non?"
The verse poured from her lips with such fluency as if she had been speaking it all her life. For how can I be greater than thee, Larissa translated in her head, when thine sphere is one I can never see? Though she knew not the weight the words carried, the fyri felt its beautiful burden. Tuwa burned low and hid his sharpened teeth as an act of reverence. Caley bristled, her relaxed impudence gone. Pwai no longer tried to shield himself with his arms and legs, and his expression became strong and enigmatic.
They were silent and somber.
"Well," said Caley, breaking the quietude, "you need not be so dour." The sadness in her voice softened the harshness of her words.
"It was only a jest," defended Tuwa, crossing his arms and looking ashamed of his weakness to Larissa's verse. "I hate it when one becomes so humorless. And get off your knees already." Larissa stood up and brushed the snow off her dress.
"You are not too angry with us, I hope?" Pwai said.
Larissa smiled. "No," she said, "not at all."
Caley clapped her hands together. "Splendid," said Caley, "I believe we have wasted enough time. Let us proceed."
"I despise formalities," growled Tuwa.
Pwai scratched his head and said: "I do not think I remember the words, but …"
In unison, the trio said: "We the fyri, Children of the Hidden Light and once the Keepers of the Pearl Seed, accept you as our mistress."
Badzabi began to fade, his body evaporating into golden embers. "Best of luck, my friends, old and new." The weight of pain was lifted from Badzabi's voice. He even sounded peaceful. "But know that this is not farewell. There is much to do … much to happen."
The morning sun lit up the whitened forest. Larissa gripped the toad leg at her chest. Badzabi was gone, but Larissa could still feel the heat emanating from its smooth surface.
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