Javaun Helios's Arc

Chapter 10 of 11

Past the last pines, the ground changed. Tiny houses grew from the roots of a great tree. Mushroom caps as wide as roofs shaded the doors. Small lights glowed behind round windows. Fairies no larger than Javaun's hand darted from window to window. They waved and pointed down a stone path. "They want us to follow," Ilandra said. Javaun stepped forward, and the little village opened around them. A fairy led them to the largest house. Inside, an old fairy sat on a carved stool. His wings hung still. He watched Javaun's pack instead of his face. "You carry something old," the elder said. "Show me." Javaun hesitated, then drew out the orb. Smoke curled inside its glass. A dim shape moved in the smoke, like a face pressing against the surface. Ilandra stepped back. The elder leaned close and did not flinch. "An elven stone," he said. "Your enemy used it to buy a title. But the stone is not his. It answers to the one who carries it, if that one learns its use." "I can use it," Javaun said. It was not a question. He had carried the thing this far without knowing its worth. "You can," the elder said. "Not here. We shape flowers and small things. This needs a maker of engines and metal." He named a scientist in a distant city of gears and steam. "Fatisto knows the old stones. Take the road to that city. He will teach the stone to obey you." The elder folded his hands. "Then your enemy cannot turn it against you when he returns." Javaun thought of Velrithian, banished across the sea, and of the king's charge to grow strong. Here was the path. He looked at Ilandra. She gave a small nod. "We'll go," Javaun said. The elder rose to see them out, but a fairy burst through the door. Wind slammed behind it. Outside, the sky had gone black. Rain fell in sheets that flattened the flowers. Thunder shook the tiny houses. A villager waved from a doorway. "In here, quick!" they called. Javaun and Ilandra ran and ducked inside. The villager set out cups while the storm hammered the roof. He told them how the grove had stood for a hundred years, hidden and safe. Now the storms came harder each season, he said, and the great tree's roots were rotting. "Something in the world has turned dark. Our village is dying with it." He looked at the orb in Javaun's lap. "Maybe the same darkness your stone came from." Ilandra set down her cup. "When Javaun masters that stone, we'll come back," she said. "We'll help you. I promise it." The villager's shoulders eased. Javaun tucked the orb away. The storm would pass. In the morning, the road would take them to the city and the scientist. He had a place to carry the stone now, and a debt to bring back.