Sūnder (Darksoul Book 1) Read online

  High Druid Mèlindria, with several rangers and acolytes, entered the amphitheater. She wore the black robes of her station with the high golden collar usually reserved for the most formal of occasions. The acolytes wore unadorned red robes, except for Rènna, who wore yellow, indicating she was second only to Mèlindria. The rangers were all faeborn females, their brilliant-colored hair cut to short bobs. Sūnder had only ever seen a ranger from afar, and then they’d been wearing the simple earth-toned clothing that helped them to melt into the forest. Each ranger carried a carved wooden staff, their watchful gazes never resting too long in one place.

  People took their seats as one of the human leaders climbed to the podium and began introductions and explained the reason for the assembly. During the human’s prolonged speech, Mèlindria turned on the holographic screen. At the same time, Akirá stepped through the side door behind Tālia, carrying a large leather case and followed by three hooded figures whom he directed to stand against the wall. The case was placed at Akirá’s feet. Although Tālia had looked back at the door as it opened, when she faced forward again, she smiled smugly. Sūnder hoped their plan worked; she was too happy not to have something more up her sleeve.

  He turned to Válora when she laid her hand over his in reassurance, but her expression gave nothing away. A’yrē and Valiant took their seats next to Sūnder shortly before Mèlindria approached the podium.

  “First, I would like to thank Earth’s Federation leaders for hosting us today as a neutral party. We appreciate your hospitality. I would also like to thank King Valiant Bálsari of Chándaria for allowing me this opportunity to address the representatives of S’koylë as well as the sāchem and sirdārs of the Faelÿn province of Alglistán and the döminus of the noble houses of E’drijān.”

  Mèlindria pointed the remote at the hologram deck. One of the rangers behind Mèlindria appeared in the recorded graphic. “I apologize for the secrecy of the day’s topic but it couldn’t be helped. The subject is highly controversial among L’fÿns, so much so that most dròw have fled their homes in order to protect their families against any backlash that may occur from this discussion. There have been numerous cases in the past where bearers of the information I am about to share with you have gone missing, or been discovered dead, the research they carried unaccounted for.”

  The members of the L’fÿn noble houses sitting in the front row shifted angrily in their seats and glared at Mèlindria. Sūnder heard Valiant call for human security, a prudent precaution considering how violent and unpredictable the L’fÿns had been of late. An attack on the High Druid, if she was going to reveal hard truths that had resulted in the deaths of others, wasn’t inconceivable. The rangers stepped forward, their staffs at the ready, meeting the silent challenge of the L’fÿn leaders and, not incidentally, shielding Mèlindria.

  “The graphics I’m sharing with you have been taken over the last decade in order for you to see a time lapse of the problem with the Jade Forest. In short, the forest is dying. L’fÿns, Faelÿns, and Panthrÿns all came from the wildwood, birthed by the magick the Jade Forest breathes. Now she dies, and we die with her. As you know, over the last two centuries, the number of births among L’fÿns and Panthrÿns have declined steadily. The Faelÿns have recently reported their birth numbers have dropped during the last fifty years.”

  The holographic played, showing the rangers’ excursions into the forest, their appearance and clothing changing with each advancing year, the condition of the wildwood deteriorating visibly and at a rapid rate.

  “Where once the forest was alive and communicated with L’fÿns regularly, now that life has become muted. Parts of the Jade Forest are now completely dormant, living but without even the magick that allows the wildwood to interact with us druids. In some places, we are no longer able to wake the groves at all. In addition, the wildlife is either leaving the woodlands or laying down and dying without any logical reason for their demise. The fey have been gone for so long most L’fÿns don’t believe they ever existed. If we don’t act now, the Jade Forest will die completely, and our peoples along with it, regardless of the new blood the humans bring us.”

  Sāchem Saty Kameko, the eldest of the Faelÿn governors, stood. “What do you propose we do, High Druid? Do we know the cause?”

  “Yes, we do, Sāchem.” Mèlindria accelerated the holograph, stopping it on the still image of pooled water among the roots of the dead trees. But the puddle wasn’t water, the coloring was off, an unnatural milky white. “Shortly before the Scarab War began, pockets of an unknown pollutant sprang up in the forest. The faeborn of the time attempted to cleanse the woodland of this substance, which caused them to immediately fall ill in a way previously unseen.”

  “Do we know if it’s naturally occurring to the forest, High Druid?” Saty asked, pulling on the tuft of white hair on the chin of his elongated Faelÿneän face. “Could it be an inadvertent byproduct of an L’fÿn enclave, despite their efforts to live in harmony with the land around them?”

  “No, Sāchem, it is neither. According to the journals of the high druid of the time, it was crafted. The faeborn had no defenses against the substance, and they sickened.”

  “Darksoul,” many L’fÿns muttered loud enough for Sūnder to easily overhear them. More than one döminus glanced at him anxiously.

  “According to L’fÿn history, the faeborn became warped, bent against their nurturing natures,” Dömini Koi of Nellá said. “They attacked many of the major communities. Nellá. Cashel. Kerë. Sterenn. Gwrys. Chādee. Nellá and Chādee were the only two major communities to survive the devastation. The others perished; their lands lie fallow to this day.

  Mèlindria stared for a long moment at Dömini Koi. What she thought wasn’t easily read in her expression. The next image on the screen was so gruesome many of the hardened warriors gasped. Those who’d never before witnessed violence cried out in revulsion or shock. Despite his experience in battle, Sūnder found the scene hard to look at himself. The holograph was a picture of a once-lush grove of trees. The Ènts were twisted in silent anguish, as if they had struggled mightily in the throes of death, boughs blackened. Faeborn hung from the barren branches on lengths of rope, their brilliantly colored hair giving the impression of a macabre set of holiday ornaments dangling from the Ènts’ rotting arms.

  “I have a hard time understanding how the faeborn were able to make war upon the L’fÿns so successfully when more than half of their population hanged themselves here before the fighting even began.” High Druid Mèlindria was often lauded for her unflappable nature but here, now, she radiated anguished indignation. A few, but not many, L’fÿns cowered from the sight, as if they’d flee from the silent accusation had they the chance.

  Mèlindria drew herself up, as if she gathered scattered pieces of herself together. “But I digress. I apologize.” The image moved back to the puddle, the video now playing. The liquid moved of its own accord—which he vividly remembered from his own personal encounter with the substance in the park. It slunk up to a healthy-looking tree and disappeared into the bark.

  “However the pollution started, it has since evolved.”

  One of the human leaders sitting on the third tier raised his hand. “King Valiant, do you know if this is the same substance Prince Sūnder pulled from our park the day he was attacked?”

  Interestingly, Dömini Koi started, then turned an accusing glare on Tālia. She ignored him, but several other people within Sūnder’s sight noted their actions also.

  “We have investigators looking into that, George,” Valiant replied. “Some of the information Mèlindria provided today has just recently come to my attention. I shall most certainly share any findings with you.”

  “High Druid Mèlindria, you still haven’t said if you have a solution,” Sāchem Saty prompted, moving the conversation forward.

  “If you will bear with me, we shall come to that in due time, Sāchem. At the conclusion of the Scarab War, the treaty drawn up bet
ween the Panthrÿns and L’fÿns assigned the duties of the Keeper of the Jade Forest—previously a strictly faeborn role—to House Nellá. The Keeper’s responsibility is the care and maintenance of the forest. When they took on the role, they promised to clean up the toxins and restore the wildwood. They have not only failed in that duty, the toxicity of the wildwood has increased. My predecessors frequently pressed House Nellá for answers as to why there was a delay in the Forest’s recovery. Each time, they were given assurances but no details. Nonetheless, still we waited. I no longer have the luxury to wait on them to do something they so clearly cannot. I believe it is time for them to pass the title to someone who will give us the results we need to save the Forest and our peoples.”

  “And who would you suggest?” Döminá Lileäh of Branwuen asked, her expression curious. As her house was a minor one, her question should have been directed at the major houses, delivering a strong message of disrespect. Several of the noble house döminus motioned for her to keep quiet, but Döminá Lileäh gave them a very human hand gesture that caused many of the human leaders to chuckle aloud.

  “I would suggest the title of Keeper revert back to the faeborn.” The döminus of Chādee, Ölwuen, Fand, and Būkkës all jumped to their feet, yelling their protests. The fact that Mèlindria didn’t jump at the ruckus was rather impressive.

  Surprisingly, not all of the noble houses objected.

  The minor houses on the tiers above were notably quiet, their looks of disdain expressing their contempt for the major houses so clearly even the humans could probably see it.

  “You cannot do that!” Tālia’s strident denial cut through the clamor, quieting it. “According to the treaty, the title remains with House Nellá as long as an heir with Panthrÿn noble blood is produced at least once every fifty years. As Nellá is still fertile, the Jade Forest must still be in decent health, and not the cause of the drop in birth rates as you insist.”

  Many Faelÿns queried her assertion, their raised voices a jumble, and Tālia addressed them. “We are not denying there is a problem, only that it is not as dire as the High Druid has portrayed. I have produced an heir in the last fifty years. He sits over there, next to his father, King Valiant. Therefore, the title of Keeper of the Jade Forest remains mine. You have no authority to remove it. And to suggest we give the faeborn access to the forest again is ludicrous. Especially when faeborn who live outside the woodland are turning darksoul.” Tālia snapped her fingers imperiously at Akirá. Interestingly, every single Faelÿn stood, growling menacingly.

  She gave them an incredulous look. “Do not snarl at me, sand rats. Reveal the darksouls my DarkHunters captured wandering the Shattered Lands.”

  The growling intensified, snarls also filling the room. Only Sāchem Saty’s raised hand quieted the noise. He moved down the tiers until he stepped onto the main floor, his already age-wrinkled face creased further in a frown. “Keeper, are you saying that you directed darkhunters to trespass on clan lands and kidnap our citizens without the permission of the province sāchem or authorization from the crown?”

  “Be thankful I did, Saty, otherwise they would have caused harm to countless others. Darksouls are merciless killers,” Tālia declared with utmost confidence. “Akirá, what are you waiting for? Show these disbelivers what I speak of.”

  Akirá didn’t move from where he leaned upon the wall. Even from where he was to the side, Sūnder could scent the Faelÿns anger , yet Tālia seemed oblivious to her audience’s displeasure. Either that, or she was purposely disregarding it.

  Looking to Mèlindria, Akirá said, “Perhaps it is time to finish your explanation, High Druid?”

  “Thank you, Holy Paladin.” Mèlindria turned in Sūnder’s direction. “Princess Válora, if you will, please?”

  Puzzled, Sūnder glanced at his mother, unable to voice the questions he desperately wanted to ask. She gripped his shoulder reassuringly as she slid past and stepped onto the main floor before crossing to the podium.

  In front of all assembled, Válora explained the Faeborn Accords, obviously for the benefit of the humans in attendance. Then she went on to the confrontation at A’yrē’s estate two weeks ago. “…In the course of Our everyday lives, there is little opportunity for Us to cross paths with Tālia of Nellá, for she does not come to court often, usually sending a delegate in her stead. This meant We haven’t often been in her presence, but on those rare occasions We were, her scent always caught Our attention. She didn’t smell as she should. However, due to the brief periods of time involved, and the fact the rooms were always crowded, We couldn’t be sure.”

  Tālia made a rude noise. “Are you going anywhere with this, Princess, or are you purposely wasting our time?”

  Válora gripped her long braid in a fist, something she did only when on the verge of losing her temper. Sūnder sat back, almost expecting a blast wave to shove through the room despite his mother’s amazing self-discipline. “To be blunt, Tālia, what I am saying is that you are not Prince Sūnder’s biological mother.”

  Tālia’s father, Dömini Koi of Nellá, burst from his seat. “That is preposterous! She birthed him in my house, and before witnesses.”

  At a nod from Válora, Mèlindria replaced the image on the holograph with several official-looking reports.

  “I am not denying Tālia carried Prince Sūnder,” Válora conceded. “I’m only saying she was a surrogate for another’s egg. I’ve spent the last two weeks gathering any information I could on the subject. I’m sorry, Dömini Koi, but your daughter knew she was barren long before she married Valiant.”

  “Wait… What…” Dömini Koi looked stunned, then hurt. “I don’t understand. How is that possible?” A look of dread on his face, he turned to his daughter. “Tālia, what have you done?”

  She ignored him, her arrogant stance announcing she believed her actions were above reproach.

  More was said about medical confirmations, fertility clinics, and possible motive for the deception, but Sūnder was deaf to the discussion. Turmoil slowly eroded his calm; all he wanted was to curl up with Gabe in their bed and ignore the world until it went away. Nothing anyone said made any sense.

  A’yrē leaned into him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and enveloping him in the scent of family, of home, of strength offered freely. “Breathe, brother.”

  And he did, if only just. Sūnder was so tired of all the hits he and Gabe had taken. Sun and Stars, let this be the last of it.

  In a way, it was a relief to hear that Tālia was not his biological mother. It didn’t surprise him that Válora was the one to detect the problem; being around Tālia always put him too on edge to focus on much else. That Válora had kept her suspicions to herself was understandable, to a point. Sūnder just wished she’d prepared him for all this before they’d attended the meeting. He could have pretended shock if necessary.

  Although relieved to not share blood with House Nellá, Sūnder couldn’t help but wonder who his biological mother actually was. Chándaria did have fertility programs, as well as anonymous sperm and egg donations, which meant there was a good chance he would never know. Maybe that was for the best. He had Válora and her unswerving love. Considering that he was faeborn, there was no guarantee his biological mother would accept him, anyway.

  Slightly calmer, Sūnder glanced up to see Koi yelling at Tālia. “You orchestrated all of this because you wanted to keep a title?”

  “No! I did it because you wouldn’t listen to me! How many faeborn did you and grandfather take without notifying the High Druid of their births and then sicken in an attempt to pull the toxins from the wildwood? Did it do any good? No.” Tālia sneered. “There are other ways now. Earth has technology that could help us cleanse our land, clean up what great-grandfather and his allies did.”

  “And risk having a dormant forest like those here on Earth, the magick of the wildwood buried so deeply that only faeborn can rouse the Ènts from sleep? Is that the legacy you want to give the children of
our people? Have you even walked through Earth’s parks and forests? There is barely any living magick.” Koi’s coral skin had flushed copper, his cornsilk hair in disarray due to his pulling it while venting his frustration and hurt. “We have already lost the wild fey, and now, because you’re too proud to admit defeat and look to our people for the answer, we will lose the magick.”

  Despite her cuffs, Tālia stood tall, regal, and as cold as ice. “Better me and the loss of magick than madness-crazed murderers loose in the forest,” she replied in an even tone. “Akirá, I shall not tell you again.” This time her words were laced with impatience. “Do as I ordered and reveal the darksouls.”

  The figure closest to Akirá reached up and pushed back the robe’s hood. Gabe stared directly at Sūnder, as if he needed to know how Sūnder fared after the surprising discoveries. “Sorry to disappoint, Madam Tālia,” he mocked. “But there are no darksouls to show these people.”

  Picking up the case at Akirá’s feet, Gabe finally crossed the floor toward the Chándariān side. Sūnder rose and rounded the table to meet Gabe, leaning into Gabe’s touch when he reached up to cup Sūnder’s cheek.

  “I shall be all right,” Sūnder promised, basking in Gabe’s concern.

  “That was some revelation, love, but I say good riddance. She’s toxic.” Gabe lifted to his toes, silently asking for a kiss. Sūnder took his mouth softly, savoring the moment.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tālia demanded. “Akirá, explain yourself. I hired you to do a job, and instead you let the darksouls go free?”

  Reluctant, Sūnder slowly released Gabe. Glancing at Akirá, Sūnder saw that both Ronan and A’ymon had pushed their cowls back too. They, and Akirá, strode confidently to the High Druid where she stood at the podium.

  “I guess I’m up next. Wish me luck,” Gabe said before he, too, walked over to Mèlindria to stand at Ronan’s side.

  “I shall not tolerate this insubordination from a mercenary!”