“I can help with that,” Zephyr stated. “I’ve been working on something.”
He pressed his palms together. A strange blue-gray shadow formed around his fingers. Slowly he drew them apart and made a motion similar to shaking out a blanket. The shadow grew and stretched. It filled the air above their heads, then settled down over them. Elric felt the weight of it, like the cool, moist air of a summer night lingering on his skin.
He looked up at Osmund, and all the color was gone from the man. His normally green tunic looked shadowy gray, and his dark brown hair was now black. Elric looked down at his own hands, and his skin was the color of bleached wool. Zephyr floated in the air, an enormous grin spread across his face. “I can’t believe that really worked!”
“What did you do?” Elric asked, still looking at his ghostly gray hands.
“I gathered twilight,” he said. “I’ve cloaked you with it. As long as you aren’t moving, you will disappear from sight. The magic should be stronger in the shadows, but I’m not sure how long it will last. It’s a new magic for me.”
“It’s brilliant,” Elric said. “We still might need a distraction to get out of the palace, though. The fewer eyes on us, the better.”
Zephyr nodded. “I can take care of that. I’m good at distraction. Listen, once you pass through the shield, there is no way to get back inside unless a fairy lets you through. I will stay by the twisted oak near the shield to the north of the gardens. That’s the place where Wynn disappeared. I will stand there for the next hundred years if I have to, so you’d better come back quickly, because it is going to be terribly boring waiting around for you that long.”
Elric clapped Zephyr on the back. “You’re a true friend.”
Zephyr turned to Osmund. “I know what you think, but I won’t let you down.”
Elric got the impression something was amiss between the fairy and the former prince as Osmund glared at him. “You’d better not,” Osmund warned. “Or I’ll have your head.”
Zephyr turned. “Elric, am I not reliable?”
Elric gave the fairy a sidelong look. He didn’t know Zephyr to be reliable, but he chose to trust him now. Elric gathered the contents of a bowl of fruit near his window and dropped them into his old traveling sack. “I’m glad to have you at my back. We will find you at the oak when the time comes.”
Zephyr’s smile faded, and suddenly he looked more serious than Elric had ever seen him. He nodded. “Go, and good luck.”
Osmund gripped his ax with both hands, and Elric looked around his room. The handle of the silver sword the queen had given him glinted from its mounting on the wall. He climbed on his bed to pull the hilt from the hooks. The blade gleamed like moonlight and the blue heart of fire.
Elric rifled through his overturned things to find his belt and a scabbard. He looked at the sword again and had a sinking feeling. “This sword is a relic. It’s full of fairy magic. It was never meant for me.”
Osmund hitched his ax over his shoulder, “That’s the nature of being a changeling. You never quite fit in. The only question that matters is, is it sharp and pointy?”
Elric let out a snort and put the sword in the scabbard.
Osmund tucked his short ax into the strap of his sack. Let’s go.”
The three of them crept through the door. Zephyr disappeared and Osmund and Elric pressed against the wall. Elric watched in amazement as the details of Osmund’s hands, then his arms and shoulders, slowly blurred and melted until he couldn’t make out Osmund at all.
“The way is clear,” Zephyr’s voice whispered as a soft breeze blew through the hall. Elric pushed forward and hurried down the stairs with Osmund behind him. The steps seemed to fly under his feet. He felt as if he were sliding down the stairs, his shoes barely touching the ground as he raced downward.
A stiff wind hit him, harsh and cold.
“Back,” Osmund whispered, and he pressed himself into a nook. Elric followed and held perfectly still. Once more, he watched his body melt into the wall as if he didn’t exist. It was like being in a dream, floating through the air, but he was awake. He could still feel his body even though he couldn’t see it. He wondered if this is what Zephyr felt like every time he became the air.
A fairy climbed the stair, carrying a heavy dark cloth. Mourning chimes rang from the bells he had tied around his waist and ankles.
Once the fairy had passed, Osmund nudged Elric. It was eerie watching Osmund’s hand appear as he moved it, to tap Elric on his invisible arm. No matter how long he lived in this world, he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to magic.
They came to the entrance of the throne room. Now was the time they needed a distraction. Four guards lingered in the chamber, including Lord Raven. He was talking to a fairy in the form of a large owl perched near the fractured crystal. They both inspected the thin lines of silvery mist still leaking from it.
A metallic clang echoed just beyond the main chamber door. Shouts rang out as the sound of water splashing on stone rang through the chamber. All the fairies turned their heads. The guards twisted and disappeared, only to reappear as a badger, hawk, boar, and wolf. Raven didn’t change form, instead he ran toward the door muttering under his breath. The owl flew after him.
“Zephyr, get back here! You are to set this right!” Raven’s voice called out.
Whatever Zephyr had done, it had worked.
Cloaked in shadow, Elric and Osmund ran toward the halls that led to the kitchens and the gardens beyond.
Once
