“I’ve read it several times, though it hasn’t helped me much. When Death Cometh was more informational.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve found a copy?”
“Yes, and I’ve read it.”
He looked shocked.
Ha. Ha! A book I’d read and he hadn’t. I wanted to stand up and do a happy dance.
“You are very fortunate to have found a surviving copy. Where, may I ask, did you discover it?”
“In the Caxon’s camp. I sort of stole it from them.” And then Kull stole it from me, but my dad didn’t need to know that.
Kull. Painful memory. Ouch.
Father leaned forward. “The Caxon? You do realize that they are still learning to be civilized. They could have killed you.”
“Yes.” I sipped my tea. “They almost did.”
“Yet I am pleased you found a copy still in existence. Do you realize how valuable that book is?”
I cleared my throat. “I have an idea.”
“Where is it?”
I’d had it in my bag, but hadn’t seen it since yesterday. Had Kull taken it? Or had I left it in my apartment? Darn it all. Why couldn’t I be organized for once? “I don’t know.”
If I’d slapped him he wouldn’t have looked more surprised. “You don’t know?”
“I may have lost it. Or had it stolen from me.”
Father rubbed his forehead. He let out a long, disappointed sigh, a sound I was too familiar with. “No matter. To know a copy still exists is enough for me.” He forced a smile, though I knew I would never hear the end of it. “You must be careful with knowledge, Olive. In the wrong hands, it could lead to disaster.”
A typical elven sentiment—they treasured knowledge more than their own offspring. Elves had been storing knowledge for centuries. They seemed to have a monopoly on it. It was no wonder there were only a few copies of Peerling’s text left.
He tapped the book on his knee. “Peerling was a descendant of Mog. His family built the Keep in the Northlands. I am not aware of the particulars, but the elves feared it. They constructed the wizard’s wall to keep it safe from the rest of Faythander.”
I scrutinized him. “You’re not aware of the particulars? I find that hard to believe.”
“The light tower was dangerous. There are certain places on Faythander where magical abilities can be amplified. The Wult caves near the Rheic Sea are one. The tower is another. It was being used for a spell to recall Theht to the world, but before the followers of Mog were able to recall the ancient god, the elves attacked. They killed most of the followers and attempted to destroy the tower. However, the tower had been enchanted. All the elven magic in the world couldn’t bring it down. So they built a wall around it instead that would stop anyone else who wished to summon Theht.”
“That’s where my godson’s dreamsoul is being kept. The goblins must be trying to summon Theht from the same place they tried to summon him from hundreds of years ago.” This was huge. The children’s dreams were being used as fuel for their spells, and the tower amplified those powers. “Isn’t there any way to get inside?”
He stared out the window, his eyes turning amber with the setting sun. “The wall was constructed by magic wielders who possessed dark magic. Only one enchantment can truly bring the wall down.”
“Which one?”
He opened the tome and flipped to a page near the back. He turned the book toward me and showed me a picture of a gnarled, oriental-type tree. I’d seen this picture before. “Pixies,” he said. “They guard this tree with their lives. Do you know why?”
Although I’d read the book, I only remembered that the tree was held sacred by the pixies, and it was supposedly a remnant from the first creation, older than any living thing on the planet. “Does it possess magic?” I asked.
“It possesses the most powerful magic in Faythander. When the worlds were rended, magic was born in Faythander. In those days, the magic was pure and untainted, more powerful than anything we wield today. There is only one source of that magic left.”
“The tree,” I whispered.
“Yes. The only magic capable of bringing down Mog’s wall.”
I rubbed my eyes, feeling a headache trying to start. “How hard would it be to retrieve pure magic?”
“None have done it.”
“That easy, huh?”
“The pixies guard it with their lives.”
My heart sank. I’d never fought a pixie. Most people hadn’t, and if they had, they didn’t live to tell it. Pixies were guarded, territorial, and more connected with nature than any species I’d met. There was a reason why that tree had lasted for centuries, and I knew they would never let me near it. “Then my godson is as good as dead,” I admitted.
“Not necessarily.” My father stood and crossed the room. He removed a small box off the shelf. Firelight flickered over the worn wood as he sat across from me and then opened the lid. A ring sat inside. The gold band supported a small, pear-shaped diamond.
“A ring?” I asked.
“Your mother’s.”
I tried not to let my mouth gape. He hardly ever spoke of Mom, and when he did, it was something in passing, and nothing about their relationship. Honestly, I’d always had trouble believing they’d fallen in love. Father was so stoic. I supposed my mother must have bewitched him. “You gave this to her?”
“I crafted a memory charm, crossed to Earth Kingdom, and bought this for her. Being from different worlds, we had trouble communicating effectively. She always accused me of not understanding her, which in retrospect was most likely true. Elven jewelry didn’t suit her. So I bought this for her.”
The tiny diamond reflected the orange firelight. Compared to elven jewelry, this would have been considered poorly crafted. But for Father to create a memory charm, a challenging test of patience and endurance, just to buy
