The warning in his voice made me hesitate from snatching the book. “You know something about that book that I don’t?”
He pointed to the author’s name on the cover. LM Peerling. “How much do you know about him?”
Not much. There was no such thing as the Internet in Faythander, and those who had knowledge tended to keep it to themselves. I was lucky to have more knowledge than most, but my dragon stepfather was the king of Faythander. Still, I knew little about the author.
“He was a Wult, Olive.”
That surprised me. Not because Wults weren’t intelligent, but because most found plundering to be a more lucrative career than book writing. “How do you know?”
“He comes from a well-known family. Some of his family’s journals are in this library.”
“What do they say?” This was huge. I had no idea those journals existed.
Kull hesitated. “They aren’t very straightforward. I get the impression that some things in that family were meant to be kept secret. But I can tell you this—the Peerlings weren’t like any Wult family I’ve ever heard of. There’s no record of them before the crossing.”
“Nothing?”
“No journals, no records. Wults take pride in mapping out their genealogy. During the crossing, most of the families risked their lives to preserve their family pedigrees. But the Peerlings—it’s almost as if they didn’t exist until after the crossing.”
“Do you think someone destroyed the records?”
He shook his head. “Impossible to say.”
“What else do you know about them?”
“I know Peerling wasn’t the original name. The first records of the family date back to right after the crossing, but strangely, the family went by another name.”
“What name?”
Kull exhaled a nervous breath. “They were called Mog.”
Chapter 23
I paced the room, somehow thinking I would be able to concentrate better. Bill Clinton disagreed. “The Mog family—they were in the tomb—the family you said was cursed. And the light tower, Mr. Green called it Mog’s Keep. You think they’re from the same family?”
“Yes. No other Wults would have taken that name.”
“Then why did they change their name?”
“For protection, perhaps.”
“Protection from whom?”
Kull pinched his lips shut. “No one.”
I eyed him. It wasn’t like Kull to keep information from me. He’d always been brutally honest. “You know something.”
“No.” He handed me the book, then leaned close enough to whisper. “Some things even I can’t speak of.”
“What do you know?”
He shook his head.
“Kull—”
“We should find my sister.” He turned to leave.
“If there’s something you know, you have to tell me. You know what’s at stake—my godson, our lives, possibly every life in Faythander. What do you know?”
I used my stern voice. I didn’t use it often, and I think it caught him off guard.
He exhaled. “I’ll tell you what little I know.”
Kull took his time before speaking. The wind gusted outside, blowing leaves against the windowpanes. He crossed his arms as he stood in front of the window. The sunlight cast dappled spots across his chest.
“Several years ago, I went on a hunting expedition with my father. We traveled to the northlands—as close to the goblin border as we could get. We’d heard that the grimwelts had grown fat and meant to hunt them.”
“And did you?”
“We never got a chance. We were attacked.”
“Who attacked you?”
He hesitated. “They appeared to be elves, though they wore beards and were built like Wults.”
“Geth’s people?”
“Perhaps. They were much the same as Geth and his men, though they were less organized, more savage. I managed to kill one. My father and our companions frightened off the rest. When I went through the dead man’s clothing, I found a vial that looked much the same as the vials in the healer’s tent. It was a potion of some sort.”
“A potion?”
He nodded. “I never discovered its purpose.”
“Do you have any idea who those fighters were? Or who Geth and his followers are?”
“I have my suspicions. Shortly after we were attacked, we learned of a group of resistance fighters called the Caxon. They feel the elves have unfair control over the four nations. It’s rumored that the followers of Mog support the Caxon.”
“Could Geth and his followers have been the Caxon?”
“It’s possible.”
“But who are they? They look like no elves I’ve ever encountered. As far as I know, elves can’t grow facial hair.” It seemed like an insignificant thing to point out, but it was a fact that made no sense.
“I’ve told you all I know.”
I watched the maywelters flutter over the lake. They looked so calm, exactly opposite of how I felt inside. I wanted to be down there, listening to their beating wings and drinking in the fresh air. Pressing my hand against the glass, I let the window’s warmth calm my churning stomach.
“Heidel may have more information for us. While in captivity, I suspect she learned something about her captors that may be of help.”
“Where is she?”
“She is in solitude to gain her strength back.” He pointed at the forest.
Something moved in the trees. A dark silhouette slammed something to the ground. Her knife glinted as she slit the thing’s throat. I looked closer and saw that she held a giant snake. Blood soaked her armor.
“She’s gaining her strength?”
“Of course,” Kull answered.
“Eugrid would disagree.”
“You’ve met my sister?”
“Yes.” I pressed my fingers to my side. “She’s an excellent healer.”
“Don’t let her deceive you. She’s got a tongue sharp enough to rival any warrior’s blade. But she is a good mother to my niece and nephews. Thank the gods for that.”
“You’re lucky to live in a castle surrounded by your family.” I thought of my apartment back home. If it weren’t for Han Solo, I was sure I would have gone crazy. There was a reason why our justice system locked the worst criminals in solitary isolation—humans were meant to be social creatures. Loneliness could drive a person mad. I should know.
A gentle breeze shook the tree limbs. A few leaves broke away and tumbled to the ground. I kept my hand on the glass, mesmerized by the Wultland’s beauty.
