A pinch of distrust, p.1
A Pinch of Distrust, page 1
D.T. Bella
A Pinch of Distrust
Copyright © 2022 by D.T. Bella
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
D.T. Bella asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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First edition
ISBN: 978-0-6454335-1-7
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
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I would like to dedicate this book to my family & friends, without whose support this would not have been possible.
Contents
Acknowledgement
1. A Disturbing Discovery
2. Racing to the Rescue
3. Planting a Seed
4. Semi-Official Inquiries
5. Answers in the Forest
6. A Question of Runes
7. Connections
8. Major Questions
9. A Pinch of Distrust
10. Confirmation
11. Lies & Alibis
12. Leads
13. Names
14. Regrouping
15. Stalling
16. Escape
17. No Worries
About the Author
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank my mother, Maureen, for her help with this book - her input was invaluable. I would also like to thank my wife, Alisa, and my friends Christian, James and Jaimi. Their feedback was incredibly helpful with refining this novel. I’d also like to thank Lee Bradford, for designing the series logo.
1
A Disturbing Discovery
Yaetherim blinked, but the sight below him didn’t change. That was another fairy lying prone on the shore of Verbore Island. Dead, or at least close to it. Below the body, a growing patch of purple stained the moss. A smear of blood led up from the murky water.
Yaetherim swooped down towards the stricken fairy. Curse words slipped from his lips. The locals had invited him here, to the Isle of Origin, to find peace. So much for that now. He swung his feet down. They slapped against the stones. A grunt escaped him. Not the neatest of landings, but style could wait. Only a hand’s width separated him from the bleeding fairy. He examined the prone fairy’s injuries. Stab wounds, no mistaking them. They were fresh.
Yaetherim’s head whipped around, running over the clearing. To the right, some leaves rustled. Yaetherim’s heart raced. Cold sweat broke out on his brow. His arm shot out. Energy crackled along it. A loud snap came from a nearby tree. The branch he’d summoned landed in his fist with a satisfying slap. A second spell sharpened its end into a point.
“Somebody there?” he barked. More rustling greeted his words. Another fairy emerged from the forest between two palm trees. Lizard-like wings, charcoal-black hair, a firekind. She wore the armband of a protector. A dagger dangled from her belt. Its sheath could hide a bloodied blade.
He held his other hand above one of the injured fairy’s wounds. This time, the magic drifted out. Just a familiar tingle, starting from the crystal clasped in his belt buckle. Beneath his fingers, a smooth milky-green sochar leaf materialised. Carefully, Yaetherim began wrapping it around the remains of the wounded fairy’s wings.
“What are you doing?” demanded the protector. She hovered closer, her hand on her dagger. Her voice shook, but she tried to hide it. No surprise there. Unlike Yaetherim, she probably knew this poor fellow. Yaetherim aimed his makeshift spear at her.
“Tending to his injuries. They’re stab wounds. You’re the only one here who’s armed.”
Her eyes widened. A frown creased her brow. Yaetherim shifted to show her his belt.
“Can’t exactly cut him with just a crystal, can I?”
She pointed to the satchel slung over his shoulder. Like most fairy garments, it was woven from leaves and other plant materials.
“Your bag’s big enough for a dagger.”
“Oh, so I’m undoing what you believe I’ve done?” Yaetherim snarked.
“He was lying there, with you standing over him! What did you expect me to think?”
“You were hiding in the trees while I tended to his wounds,” Yaetherim retorted. “What did you expect me to think?”
A dash of annoyance flavoured his words. He did not need this now.
The protector glanced down, then to where the injured fairy’s belt should have been. Slowly, she drew her blade. Yaetherim didn’t take his eyes off it. She held it towards him. The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the unblemished steel. Yaetherim frowned.
“That’s only one side of it.”
She turned the dagger over. No marks stained this side either. Yaetherim tossed his improvised spear aside. The protector landed next to him.
“I am Yaetherim of South Alken Forest. Your elder Paeyelin invited me,” Yaetherim said.
“I am Taegithi of Verbore Island and that is Paetobim,” replied the protector. Yaetherim nodded. Beneath his hand, the leaf finished forming. A faint salty aroma wafted up from it. Yaetherim checked his crystal. Still opaque and full of energy. He moved onto Paetobim’s next largest wound and cast again. A gasp came from behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He sighed.
“Aye, I have scars,” he said, “you can gape at them later.”
“Sorry, I-”
“I’m used to it. Please fetch help. We should get that unclean water off him.”
He’d spoken curtly. They could converse afterwards. Merely drinking unfiltered water was enough to make anyone sick, let alone swimming in it. Just the odour hanging in the humid air turned Yaetherim’s stomach. Even now, an antidote may not aid Paetobim.
“Aye, ah, of course,” Taegithi replied. She took off. Yaetherim watched her go. Despite the clean dagger, suspicion lingered. She had been close by. But so had he. Yaetherim dismissed his suspicions and finished conjuring the leaf. He turned Paetobim over to tend to the other injuries. The latter’s arm flopped out. A crystal rolled out of his right hand, stopping against a nearby rock. Yaetherim ignored it. It wasn’t the first spent crystal he’d seen.
Each wound sliced through Paetobim’s flesh with no rip or tear. Only the blood showed their location. No blade or crossbow bolt could cut that neat and deep. Yet Yaetherim knew such injuries. He didn’t need to check the scars on his own arms. They were just as clean and thin, with no sign of tearing or twisting.
A groan drifted through the air. Paetobim opened his eyes and tried to sit.
“It’s all right, Paetobim. You’re safe now,” Yaetherim said. His tone belied his words.
“Nay… Rychillans in Cerrane…”
“What?”
Yaetherim frowned. His breath caught in his throat. Rychillans were banned from visiting Cerrane. Another moan interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head. Paetobim needed help. The rest could wait. With a few more spells, Yaetherim dressed Paetobim’s wounds. A flick of his hands summoned some soft leaves, upon which he rested Paetobim.
Yaetherim stepped over and picked up the crystal Paetobim had dropped. If stood on end, it would reach his knee. Human-sized, much too large for a fairy. Several vertical scratches marred the sides. Such marks only came from Rychillan jewellery. Only a hint of blue remained within it, the shade of a waterkind. A cold sweat crossed Yaetherim’s brow. With his hands trembling, he reached into his satchel. He withdrew another crystal. As he held the two side-by-side, his suspicions solidified. Both were identical.
Something touched Yaetherim’s shoulder. The crystals fell from his grip. He turned. One arm whipped up. His wings flicked out. A spell shot from his lips. The makeshift spear jumped back into his other hand. He brought it down, aiming it like a dagger.
Another fairy stood behind him. The newcomer held up his hands. Large eyes stared at him over a set of thick, callused fingers. Traits of a groundkind fairy. Not the most useful magic when healing. Perhaps he had just been the next nearest protector. No, that wasn’t it. The armband of a protector captain sat on this groundkind’s forearm. Again, annoyance seasoned his speech.
“You startled me, Captain Kae-”
“Kaetarpen of Mirost Village, Verbore Island. My apologies. That was not my intention.”
He’d spoken sincerely. Yaetherim dropped the spear and took a deep breath. His wings relaxed and drooped.
Kaetarpen’s eyes flicked over Yaetherim’s right shoulder. Yaetherim waited. He counted off the heartbeats in his head. Three, while Kaetarpen stared at the hole in his wing. Then one heartbeat each for the scars on his arms and legs. Seemed correct. That’s how long most people took. Kaetarpen’s expression shifted.
“That is airship skin on my wing. Had it stitched in place by a Rychillan healer,” Yaetherim explained, “everyone asks.”
Yaetherim leaned over and looked around Kaetarpen. Taegithi had indeed brought help. She and a waterkind
“They attacked his wings this time too,” Yaetherim said.
“Who?”
“The Rychillans Paetobim saw in Cerrane.”
Kaetarpen’s eyes widened. He spun on his heel. Firmly and quickly, he issued orders.
“Taegithi, I need you to go back to the village. Gather up all the protectors who aren’t on patrol. Bring them to Cerrane, the southeast corner. Inform Paeyelin too.”
Taegithi nodded and departed.
“You said this time?” Kaetarpen asked. Yaetherim picked up the spent waterkind crystals and handed them to Kaetarpen.
“He was holding one of these when I found him.”
Kaetarpen held the crystals side-by-side.
“Where did you get the other?”
“Oato Clearing, South Alken Forest,” Yaetherim replied. “It came with my scars.”
His voice had shaken on that last sentence, even though he’d spoken softly.
Kaetarpen glanced over his shoulder. Yaetherim followed his gaze. Beside Paetobim lay an improvised stretcher. Nothing fancy, just palm fronds wrapped around two branches.
“It’s all right, sir. We should be able to move him to the village,” said one protector. Kaetarpen nodded and turned back to Yaetherim.
“You should go with them.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Cerrane.”
Yaetherim tilted his head.
“On your own?”
Kaetarpen couldn’t be that stupid. It took a certain measure of intelligence to reach the rank of captain.
“The others are meeting me there,” Kaetarpen replied tersely.
“Will there be archers amongst them?”
“Those who aren’t on patrol, aye.”
Yaetherim cracked his knuckles. Each pop got a wince from Kaetarpen. Good, he had his attention. Kaetarpen needed to understand what he’d be facing. Yaetherim held his right arm out, showing the three scars along it.
“Do these look like the work of a blade?”
Kaetarpen leaned forward.
“Not torn… smooth…”
His eyes widened and flicked over to the waterkind crystals. Yaetherim nodded. Memories shot into his mind. A thin jet of liquid, flying towards him. Then pain, blotting out everything else. His wings shuddered and his fingers tensed.
“A dagger made of water?” Kaetarpen asked.
“A focused and directed stream of it. Very narrow. More of a lance than anything,” Yaetherim said, his voice wavering. “Paetobim didn’t even get his own weapon out.”
Kaetarpen looked over to the stretcher. He stroked his chin.
“Yaetherim, could you accompany me to Cerrane? Your knowledge of this situation may prove useful.”
Yaetherim’s heart started racing. The Rychillans who’d attacked him could still be there. Yes, a chance of finding them was what had brought him here. But this was not what he’d expected. At least he wasn’t alone this time.
“You sure we’ll meet up with the other protectors first?”
Kaetarpen folded his arms.
“That is what I said,” he replied. He spread his wings and lifted off. After looping round, he hovered and waited. Yaetherim flexed his right wing. Most fairies could just take off without a second thought. He didn’t have that luxury anymore. Each stitch around the patch tugged in a familiar pattern of twinges. A few chafed the wing itself. But all stitches held. That done, Yaetherim tucked the waterkind crystals into his satchel and took flight.
They weaved through the forest, Kaetarpen in the lead. Branches and leaves flicked past. Yet despite the wind chill, sweat formed on Yaetherim’s forehead. This wasn’t about advising any longer. He was flying to Cerrane to intercept those who’d attacked him. They’d escaped last time. This was a chance to rectify that. He thought back over his training as a protector. Spotting and tracking poachers had been a large part of it. He’d need those skills now.
A curt gesture from Kaetarpen caught Yaetherim’s attention. Both fairies pulled up into a hover. Just ahead, the forest almost vanished. Vines and moss covered the remnants of buildings. Not that much still stood. Cerrane hadn’t seen residents for over two centuries.
“That’s Cerrane,” Kaetarpen said, his voice low, “we’ll stay behind the trees. Keep an eye out.”
Yaetherim nodded. His right hand dropped to his belt. It grasped air where he’d once worn a dagger. Kaetarpen gestured and moved off. Yaetherim followed. He kept glancing towards Cerrane. All he got were glimpses of the overgrown buildings. No signs of movement. But several walls still stood. Enough to hide a few humans, be they Rychillan or another race.
“Our patrol path comes through the trees just west of where we stopped,” Kaetarpen said, “then skirts the clearing until it reaches the southern shore.”
“Does it go into the ruins at all?”
“Nay, but Paetobim would’ve checked if he thought something amiss. He’s quite devoted to his duty.”
They reached the edge of the forest and perched on a branch. From here, the former town lay visible before them. A couple of structures still stood somewhat intact. To the southwest, the remains of a stone dock jutted out into the ocean. Again, no sign of movement. But tracking required more than sight alone. Yaetherim sniffed the air. His throat heaved. He coughed.
“Are you all right?” Kaetarpen asked.
“Just the stench of the water. None of that human odour.”
While promising, it was hardly conclusive. Perhaps the breeze had been blowing the wrong way. Kaetarpen nodded. He glanced towards the ruins.
“We’ll be careful, though. Anything we should know?”
“They were burying something when I came across them,” Yaetherim said.
“What sort of thing?”
“Papers of some form. I can’t recall more. That attack stole a few memories too. They’d dug a hole under a rock.”
He sighed.
“We sent protectors to Oato Clearing two days later, but they found that hiding spot empty.”
A flurry of movement caught his attention. Taegithi emerged from the forest to his right, a dozen fairies behind her. Five carried crossbows, the rest wore daggers on their belts. Yaetherim almost smiled with relief.
After the protectors landed, Kaetarpen stepped forward. While he briefed them, Yaetherim looked back at Cerrane. Something dull-silver dangled off the edge of the dock. Probably steel, yet somehow devoid of rust. No boat, for what that was worth. Paetobim’s attackers could have come ashore elsewhere.
“Finally, if you see anything out of place, speak up,” Kaetarpen finished. Yaetherim cleared his throat and pointed to the dock.
“I have. Either someone’s left that behind, or the Rychillans have forgotten an effective metal preservation treatment.”
Fourteen pairs of eyes looked over. A babble of conversation broke out. Kaetarpen clapped his hands twice. Silence fell.
“Well-spotted. We’ll head that way first,” Kaetarpen said. He turned back to the other protectors.
“Any questions?”
“Sir, you mentioned these Rychillans were using a water lance. What sort of range does that have?” asked an archer. Kaetarpen glanced over at Yaetherim. All eyes fell upon him. He gestured to a half-fallen wall in the middle of the clearing.
“From about there to here.”
A few hands reached down to daggers. One or two fairies mumbled, but no more questions came. Kaetarpen took off, waving for the others to join him. They formed up, flanked by the archers.
“Yaetherim, could you please bring up the rear?” Kaetarpen asked.
“Of course.”
After his preflight checks, Yaetherim joined them. They flew towards the dock, eyes peeled for any signs of movement. About halfway there, a movement amongst the bushes caught their attention. A protector on the right brought her bow up. A small, scaly brown animal skittered out into the daylight. The archer lowered her bow. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“It’s just a lizard,” she said, relieved. It scurried along between trodden bracken and broken branches. Yaetherim frowned. Between the damaged plants, not around them, on suspiciously smooth soil and stones. Only a few ancient arrowheads littered the track. Even those lay to the sides.
