Page 45 of The Tracker's Rage
“Thank you,” he blurted out. Tearing his copper gaze away from my friend, he squared his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
I started toward the steps, taking the lead out of the basement.
“Where are you going?” The mage asked.
“Hmm, to wherever your entry point into Elf-hame is.” Mine was in Tower Grove Park. I had to sit in the Turkish Pavilion and trace my assigned rune into one of the tables, and a second later, I was in Pharowyn.
“My entry point is wherever I want it to be,” Damien said, holding up a smooth wooden carving in the shape of a coin. It was about the size of a silver dollar with minute designs I had no time to decipher. He put the charm in his pocket and crooked his elbow, inviting me to take it.
“Really? No fair.” I threaded my arm through his, wishing I had a pass that let me access Elf-hame from wherever I was. “You’re going to have to tell me what to do to get this type of access.”
“Pshaw, they don’t give this to just anyone.”
I glared at him.Arrogant bastard!If it weren’t because I needed him to craft this cure, I would sit on his stupid top hat.
“We’ll contact you when we get back,” Damien said to Eric, then turning to me, he added, “see you on the other side.”
The last thing I saw were Jake’s worried eyes.
* * *
THE WORLD WASHED AWAY. The color on the walls that surrounded me ran down like paint on a canvas, melting to a puddle on the floor. Only darkness was left behind, reminding me of that place I visited whenever I was in a trance.
I clung to Damien, fearful to get separated and lost in the vast nothingness. As if a reel were running backward, all the color that had puddled under our feet started climbing up again, streaks of blue, red, and yellow rising and weaving themselves into a new backdrop, quickly forming shapes that I gradually recognized.
Massive trees the size of skyscrapers. Distant mountains capped with snow. Clouds as fluffy as cotton balls, and a blue sky several shades darker than any I’d ever seen. A prairie stretched before us, dotted with flowers of all colors and shapes. I blinked at the splendor, feeling as if I’d landed in some sort of impressionist painting. The colors were vivid, and I had no name for most of their shades.
“It’s... it’s gorgeous,” I said, sounding out of breath.
“I suppose,” Damien shrugged, “but we’re not here to admire the scenery.” He turned, forcing me to face in the opposite direction and shaking my arm off as if I were an unwanted attachment.
The sight that greeted me on the other side left me even more speechless than the one at my back. A magical city sprawled before me. It was a place apt for fantastic fairy tales with princesses and queens, and dragons and unicorns.
Elyndell was vast and blended perfectly with the surrounding scenery. Earth-toned buildings grew around trees, over hills, and along riverbanks. Mossy paths meandered between the structures, running in no particular order and making me wonder if the roads and structures had actually grown instead of been built.
At the center of it all, a white tower rose, vines crawling up its sides and getting lost into its many windows. The city seemed to grow away from the tower, expanding in every direction as far as the eye could see. The place was as big as any city in my realm, except without the noise of engines and their pollutants.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the tower.
“The Vine Tower. It’s where the royal family lives.”
My eyes grew wider as I tried to imagine the inside of the structure.
“If you’re done gawking...” Damien said and began walking towards the closest moss-covered path.
I stumbled after him, not done gawking at all. Everything I saw drew my eye. Twisted trees, their branches getting lost inside the walls or windows of small, picturesque cottages. Swings made of vines. Gurgling fountains that seemed to rise from the ground. Beautiful Fae males and females, but most surprising of all: Fae children. I had never seen their young before, and if the grown specimens were beautiful, their miniature versions were lovely little cherubs fallen from the heavens, their huge eyes and smooth skin an artist’s dream.
After a short walk during which I gawked at everyone, and everyone blatantly ignored us as if we were invisible—clearly, they didn’t want us here—Damien ushered me into what appeared to be some sort of tavern. The place was built from millions of tiny branches all stuck together. Windows in the shapes of honeycombs ran in a line all around the structure. Inside, it was as bright as daylight. I blinked up and realized there was no roof over our heads and the floor was nothing but thick grass, kept short. A tree as wide as a house stood back and center. Its sprawling roots growing from the ground to create chairs and tables where an array of Fae folk sat eating from wooden bowls and drinking from ceramic tankards.
Damien approached a counter that was also made from tree roots, its surface polished to a perfect sheen. A female stood behind the counter. She had luscious red hair and turquoise eyes that slanted at a forty-five degree angle. Her ears protruded, ending in a sharp point about three inches away from her head. A snake that looked more like a dragon curled around her neck, tasting the air with its forked tongue.
At first, she acted like we weren’t there, but her demeanor changed completely when Damien spoke.
“Ven konodin, dear madam,” Damien said, inclining his head.
The female didn’t quite smile, but sharp canine teeth flashed as she inclined her head. “May I be of assistance,” she asked in a thick, lilting accent.
“You may, I am looking for Rosia Wynthas, do you know where I may find him?”
