Page 77 of Omen of ice
I jump from my seat in the corner of the room, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to lurch forward and pinch him to be sure he’s real. “You’re human!”
He laughs and offers a small wave. “Ander,” he says, then bows. “And you are a druid. It is truly an honor to meet you.”
“Trust me,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. “It’s not as much of an honor as you think it is.”
He laughs again. A head-tossing, full-belly laugh that has me fighting a smile. Goddess. I haven’t heard anyone laugh that way, thattrue, my entire life.
“Would you like me to introduce you to the others?”
“Other…humans?”
He nods. “I believe at last count, there were twenty humans in the camp.” He smacks the side of his head. “Oops. Twenty-one. Farrah and Wendel had a little one last month.”
Surely I heard him wrong. How is this possible? “Twenty-one,” I repeat, stunned. “Are you all…” How do I put it without sounding rude?
“Regular humans?” His smile widens. “Yes. Not a druid among us. Except, now, for you.”
“How?”
Centuries. That’s how long it’s been since humans other than druids have walked in Derriga. Or, so we’d thought. After we gave the Winter Fae our magic to win the war, what remained of the other courts hunted the settlements down and snuffed them out. They sought out the villages not under druid or Fae protection and burned them all to the ground. The few they couldn’t access dwindled when the Fae in their regions cut off their supply routes.
“You all died off,” I say. “Victims of starvation and war with the Fae.”
“Delkin and his family have been here, hidden away, for a very long time. The humans here are descendants of the ones who came with him, thousands of years ago, to escape the turbulent, changing landscape of Derriga.”
We learned Fae had extremely long lifespans, but no one in the Order really knew the true extent of it.
He gestures over his shoulder. “How about a tour before meeting some of the others?”
Ander is human, but he’s been living with the Fae. Just because this place is amazing and he’s something of a rarity himself doesn’t mean I instantly trust him. Still, I’m curious. What other secrets are they hiding?
Ander leads me from the small room and out into the predawn light. Benj wasn’t rough with me on the way in, but he didn’t give me time to really take in my surroundings. Now, with the ability to take a good, long look, I’m in awe.
The village is nestled into the unnaturally huge branches of hilpberry trees, hidden within the fat leaves and strangely large hanging berries. It’s all connected by wooden platforms that span what feels like miles, six, maybe seven trees down.
“Delkin found this place long ago, by accident, when he was driven from his home. He and some of the other Fae climbed up and began building as the rest of us stayed hidden. Generation after generation, we’ve lived here in peace and tranquility. A community unhindered by the outside world.”
We pass a small row of living quarters, some decorated with flowers and long sections of vine. Farther down, there are large portions of fenced-in area. Inside, several cattle, a few goats, and multiple pigs graze contentedly on a mossy carpet that’s growing from the planks. He points to a small section to our right. “Over there, we have a place to grow vegetables. Other than an occasional hunt, we’re mostly self-sufficient. We survive almost wholly on what we create here.”
“What do you do for water?”
Ander points in the other direction, to one of the connecting trees. There’s a large basin with several pipes and a huge spout. “We collect the rainwater, and that handy contraption purifies it. Invented by a member of our community no longer with us.”
“It’s all so… I can’t believe it.” A shiver races down my spine, branching out to the tips of my fingers. I ball my fists and shudder.
Ander cocks his head to the side. “Are you all right?”
“I—” I force a smile. “Fine. Just a little cold.”
“Let’s go see the others.” Ander grins. “They’ve been buzzing about you since they heard.”
He takes me around the pen, to the back of the massive tree. There, we climb a narrow set of steps that lead to an upper-level plateau. The large hilpberry leaves create a tunnel, encasing the stairs like a living hallway. This place is nothing short of fantastic.
We end up at the very top of one of the peaks, the tallest of the village. Low-hanging clouds kiss the edges of the tree, and an assortment of birds—ones I’ve never seen before—perch atop the railing.
We emerge from the stairs, and the instant my feet touch the platform, all eyes are on me. Ander gives me a small nudge forward. “Friends, this is…” His brow furrows. “My apologies. I never asked for your name.”
“Aphelian,” I say without thinking. I’ve been loyal to my title—but in this moment, seeing the faces before me, clarity hits hard. “Keltania,” I correct.
