Path of the Spirit Runner

Clouds

Clouds~

Avalee Buchanan

Dundarien, Aleron

Avalee plopped to the grass and leaned back on her hands. She studied the cottony clouds drifting by. The sky was always watching her, so sometimes she took a notion to watch back.

She spied a shape and bent over the notebook to write out the blocky letters, then passed it to Bethan. Her silent friend read her letters and squinted up at the clouds, looking for what Ava had seen hiding there. A grin lit Bethan’s face, and she started drawing.

Ava waited to see what Bethan would make of a horse with wings and watched Rory and Braden swinging at each other with wooden swords down by the stream. If they’d listened to her and brought bows, she’d be playing with them instead of imagining cloud pictures. She was good with a bow, and Rory knew it. That’s why he insisted on swords.

Cloud pictures were still better than sitting around the pavilions. Gossiping bored her, and the other girls left Bethan out. The Gruder twins fascinated her. When Braden and Bethan were together, he talked in a fast, low murmur Ava couldn’t quite follow. It was as if they had their own private language. When Bethan touched his arm and gave him that look, Braden laughed like she’d told him a joke.

Ava had asked how Bethan could hear Braden if she couldn’t hear anyone else. Braden just shrugged and said, “Father says she can make out the words from how my mouth moves.”

The Gruder twins’ exchanges sparked her curiosity, which tended to get her into trouble. But this was different. This was a clue to a mystery she’d been puzzling over.

Ava often thought a thought just before her best friend spoke it. She and Rory finished each other’s sentences all the time. Sometimes she would swear she could almost hear him thinking. That was how they got away with more than they ought and why everyone called them the Terrors.

It wasn’t their fault. They just always seemed to be nearby when interesting things happened.

Bethan nudged her and held up the finished sketch. Ava took it and smiled, delighted with the winged horse flying over the clouds with a princess on its back. Bethan drew exceptionally well. The horse looked like her own Willow had sprouted big, beautiful eagle wings. Ava’s imagination raced, and she added a few more words to the page. Bethan took it and eagerly went back to sketching.

The duel was taking the boys farther downstream. She’d call them back after Bethan had added a dragon to chase the princess and the winged horse. She’d have them play out the story with her. A warrior with a sword needed something to defend, after all. And she truly wanted to be the flying horse.

Cade was meandering up the streambank on his horse. Perfect. She’d have Cade be the dragon so Rory and Braden wouldn’t argue over who got to be the warrior. It would be splendid.

Ava closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face, trying to imagine what sort of dragon Bethan would draw for them. A dragon ought to have a long neck and leathery wings. No, she had an even better idea. A dragon with wings of frosty white feathers and eyes of pale blue ice.

As she mused, a shadow fell across Ava’s face. She peeked one eye open and bolted upright. A man was standing over her, an intent frown darkening his face. She swatted at Bethan’s legs. Bethan glanced up from her drawing and sucked in a breath.

The man had the look of a hunter, but much grander. His brown cloak was of the finest wool, and elegant copper and gold embroidery flashed along the edges. A strand of hair so fair it was almost white fell from beneath his hood.

“You’re not a Hawk,” she said, scooting closer to Bethan. “Who gave you leave to hunt here?”

“Ah, impertinence. You assume I need leave to be here. This land belonged to my people long before the Buchanans claimed it.” A wry smile transformed his handsome face. “Who are you, child, to question me so?”

Ava scrambled to her feet and stood her ground. She would not be intimidated on Dundarien land.

“Lady Avalee Buchanan,” she said, tossing the curls that had only recently grown past her shoulders again. “Lord Gaven is my papa. What business do you have here?”

“Merely curiosity,” said the hunter. “I was unable to travel for a time, but that time has passed. I chose to see for myself.” His wistful smile turned sad. “He was right. You have the eyes.”

“I have my mother’s eyes,” she said. “Everyone says so.”

The hunter lifted her chin with his finger. Ava stepped back, but an odd sense of belonging kept her from running away.

“You need not fear me,” he said as he studied her. “Lady Rosalee is your mother, yes? Tell me, do you have brothers? Sisters?”

“Only Taegan. He’s seven.” Ava hesitated. “Mama will have a sister for us soon, though.”

The hunter glanced at the boys splashing up the stream towards them.

“Are those your cousins? Is Lady Isobel their mother?”

The mysterious hunter knew their mothers’ names. Somehow, that pleased her, so she nodded.

“That’s Caderyn and Rogarthur,” she said. “We call them Cade and Rory, though.”

“And they have an older brother, do they not?”

“Nathalyan. He’s the oldest. Nate thinks he’s too old to play with us anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “And there’s Jocelyn. She’s still a baby, so she had to stay at Glenayre.”

Cade reached them first. He leaped from his horse and ran between her and the hunter.

“Back away, Ava. He ought not be here.”

“This one’s Cade,” she said.

Rory and Braden ran up after him, brandishing their wooden swords.

“Yield, you brigand!”

“That’s Rory,” she said.

“Well done, young warriors. I am impressed by your bravery.” The hunter seemed amused. “You may put away your swords. I mean no harm.”

“You don’t?” Rory sounded disappointed. “Blast it. May I take a swing anyway? Just one?”

“What?” Cade wheeled around. “He says it, and you just believe him? Oh, right. Because if he meant you harm, of course, he’d say so.”

“He’s a sneaky one, isn’t he?” Rory grinned and brandished his sword.

Suddenly, quicker than Ava’s eyes could follow, Rory’s sword went spinning from his grip. The hunter caught it with a casual sweep of his hand and winked.

“Fierce,” Rory said with a grin. It was the best compliment he knew.

“As you see, I am harmless.” The hunter touched the back of his neck. “The birthmark. Do you have it?”

“I can’t see the back of my own neck, but Mum says I do.” Rory lifted Ava’s hair and let it flop back to her shoulders. “Ava has it, too. We all do. The three-finger swipe.”

“Mama says it’s where the faeries brushed us with their magic,” said Ava.

“The blood runs true in you,” the hunter said quietly.

“How do you know about the birthmark?” Cade was still frowning. “Who are you?”

The hunter swept back his cloak and hood. He was magnificent, from his emerald breastplate to the copper and gold bracers on his arms. His eyes shone like gold, and his hair caught the sunlight like moonlight’s silk. The slender bow over his shoulder was taller than Ava was and etched with lovely filigree swirls. He was beautiful, even regal… in a quietly dangerous sort of way.

“I’m the King of the Elves.” His mouth curled in a sly grin.

Ava couldn’t hold in a gasp. This was too wonderful to be real.

“There’s no such thing as elves,” said Cade.

“An excellent point, Caderyn,” said the elf king. “One I’ve repeatedly tried to make through the years.”

“Are you a good elf?” asked Braden, wide-eyed and gripping Bethan’s hand. “Or are you wicked?”

“That depends on who you ask.”

“A real elf,” said Ava. “And a king. Stay and fight dragons with us!”

“No, dear child. I cannot stay.” The elf king raised a finger to his lips. “And you must tell no one I was here. Can you promise me this?”

“We promise,” said Rory.

“No one would believe us anyway,” said Cade, and they all nodded their solemn promises.

“A pact, then. It will be our secret. Should you ever have need of my magic…” His lovely eyes turned sad again. “If you need me, I will come.”

Chapter 13