I closed my eyes, trying to focus, to remember. We’d been on an open plain, I remembered that, and the mountains were in the distance. And the stones. I remembered the stones surrounding us, similar to the ruins of Stonehenge. “Stones,” I said. “Ancient things, like remnants of an old civilization. Is there anywhere near the mountains where a place like that exists?”
“The old Vikings,” Fan’twar answered. “When they first arrived here from the Brimlake, they built a temple. Only its ruins remain.”
“Do you think that’s what I saw?”
“Perhaps.”
I stared at the map. Fan’twar pointed to a narrow strip of the Wultlands bordering the goblin lands. He indicated the mouth of a bay. “This is where the Vikings first entered almost fourteen hundred years ago. Their temple should be someplace nearby.”
“Are there any other places like that?”
“To my knowledge, this was the only temple near the mountains. Shortly after their arrival, they moved closer to the elves to begin pillaging.”
“But the place was deserted. I didn’t see any Wults nearby.”
“There wouldn’t have been. The Wults consider the place cursed. They believe it to be haunted by evil skull-faced spirits called the Regaymor.”
“Skull-faced?” Like Charon?
He nodded.
“Then that must be the place where I saw Jeremiah’s dreamself. Can you take me there?”
Fan’twar hesitated. “The ancient ruins are not a place I am welcomed. The Wults allow no one there.”
“No one?”
“They will kill anyone who travels to the ancient temple, believing them to be tainted by the Regaymor’s spirit.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to sneak in.”
“No, there are better ways. You must obtain King Herrick’s permission.”
I rubbed the tense muscles in my neck. I’d never dealt with the Wults for one reason—they were impossible to deal with. “But would he agree to let me go? I thought you said they’d kill anyone who goes there.”
“Wults aren’t keen on keeping order. Finding a way around their laws shouldn’t be difficult. But you must take care, Olive. The ancient ruins are dangerous. And I fear that whatever is happening may be worse than we understand.”
I still couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to harm Jeremiah. Most creatures of Faythander avoided crossing over to Earth. Once they returned, their memories of Earth would be erased, just as those crossing from the other direction. If the worshippers of Theht had returned, why would they risk losing their memories to kidnap Jeremiah’s mind? I knew the only way to find answers would be to go to the source of the trouble.
Fan’twar’s golden scales gleamed in the crystals’ light as he crawled off the dais. “The Wult king and his court are much closer than you realize. They are in the elf kingdom, preparing for the marriage of their prince. I shall fly you to them if you wish.”
I hesitated before climbing onto Fan’twar’s back. The Wult prince was famous, or infamous, depending on how you looked at it. He had a sort of Chuck Norris reputation. The guy had killed at least one of every species of beast in Faythander and had a castle full of stuffed carcasses to prove it. He was the only known being to kill a jagamoor and survive. With his bare hands. While he was tied up. He’d only spilled his own blood once, and from it grew the dragons’ forest. When the queen of the fairies had gotten sick, the fairy court sought the prince’s tears for the cure. Unfortunately, no being could make him cry.
Okay, maybe the last couple things I made up.
“The Wult prince is getting married?”
“Yes, to Princess Euralysia.”
I almost choked. “The elf princess?” Wults and elves didn’t mix. I couldn’t believe they were actually getting married. I guess more had changed in twelve years than I’d realized.
Chapter 8
The capitol city of the elf kingdom, Lauressa, appeared over the horizon. The golden spires of the castle rose above the rest of the city. Elves loved gold in their architecture, accented with pearls or diamonds. I found it ostentatious, but what did I know?
As Fan’twar circled around the city, he explained why we’d come here. I listened to him over the rush of wind through my ears. “The Wults haven’t stopped plundering from the elves in fourteen hundred years. The elves always thought negotiations would work, but after so long, even an elf’s patience thins. It’s either marriage or war.”
“War?” Elves weren’t warlike. It seemed out of character.
“That’s why they’re counting on this marriage. If not, elves see war as their only option left.”
“Could the Wults really have a chance against the elves?”
“Not at all. Wults are stronger fighters, of course, but elven technology would have the entire race decimated in a week.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “Would the elves really do that?”
“At this point, I see it very likely to happen.”
Coming from the sky king, one of the most perceptive creatures I’d ever known, I knew he meant what he said. An entire race wiped out, and by the elves.
“I’ll take you to the great hall. The Wults are celebrating there. You shouldn’t have any trouble negotiating with the king and organizing a clan to accompany you to the ruins. Many Wults are anxious to leave the elven city.”
Yeah, I bet they are, with their pockets full of loot.
Fan’twar dipped his head and plunged toward the city. Golden spires spun in my vision. The whoosh of the light-rails sounded in the distance, and the city sparkled in the sunlight. Fan’twar spiraled around the castle until he found an open courtyard.
With a thunderous strike, Fan’twar’s feet connected with solid ground. My heart pounded in my ears as I loosened my fingers from the spike. Adrenaline pumped through my blood. Nothing compared to riding a dragon. It was more exhilarating than skydiving. I’d never get used to it.
I dismounted the dragon and landed on the cobbled courtyard. Several elf warriors, wearing plumed helmets, shining gold breastplates, and crimson tunics, came to attention as they stood around the
