Free Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) by Missy Sheldrake

more notice, to make myself more presentable for my parents’ arrival.
    The soft sound of Mya’s voice is carried on the breeze to me, surprisingly clear above the pounding of the horses. She sings a song of calm healing, its words ancient and melodic. They round the corner at full speed, four horses and three riders. Mya leads the charge with my mother’s empty-saddled horse tethered to her own. Behind her, Elliot rides with my father’s horse close beside him. As they near, I realize my father’s form is slumped over the neck of his horse, his hands bound to the reins. At first I think he’s unconscious, but as they near he raises his head slightly and I gasp. His face is a solid, swollen bruise. Blood is caked over his right eye. The side of his helm, which is tied to his saddle, is badly dented; he has obviously been bludgeoned in the head.
    Bryse emerges from his house to meet them as they skid to a stop. The horses dance in place as Elliot works deftly to free my father’s hands and legs from the bindings that served to keep him steady on the journey, and then Luca leads the horses away to the stable. Mya’s voice melds perfectly with her lute as the men heft my father, and as her healing song washes over us all I can feel my own strength returning. My father’s form is  limp, and I grab his hand as Bryse rushes him past me into the house. We stumble up the stairs together and Bryse lays him in bed. Mya’s singing and it helps me feel better. I know it’s helping Da, too. His eyes are closed now. He lies unmoving and I when I squeeze his hand, it’s cool and still in mine.
    “Brother Donal is on his way,” Elliot says softly, resting a hand on my shoulder. I reach and brush a blood-crusted strand of hair from my father’s brow.
    “What happened to him?” I whisper. In my mind I see my mother’s empty saddle and I go numb. I won’t ask. My father is here. He needs me now.
    “We don’t know for certain.” Mya answers softly. “He and your mother crossed the border ahead of us into Kythshire. He returned raving mad, struck by his own hammer. Lis...” She clears her throat. “Elliot went to find her but only met with the empty boundary.”
    “We know exactly which path they took,” Elliot’s tone is apologetic, “but there was no sign of their passing, in or out of the border. It was as though she disappeared.”
    “Redemption stayed to search for her. We didn’t realize the extent of Benen’s injuries at the time or we would have had their cleric come with us. We thought to keep him with us, but in the end we agreed he’d be better off here, with the Conclave to tend to him.”
    “So we decided to ride hard for home,” Elliot finishes for her. Brother Donal’s arrival is announced by the soft rustling of robes, and he tries to move me aside to get to my father, but I refuse to budge. I know they’re talking around me, but I’m unable to focus on what they’re saying.
    Finally, Bryse’s strong hands scoop under my arms and Donal pries my fingers away, and I watch my father’s hand fall limply to the bed. I’m vaguely aware I’m being carried down the stairs and tucked into our worn sofa with a soft blanket. Bryse and Mouli whisper in hushed tones. A mug of something warm is pressed into my hands. Mya’s healing song continues to fill the house. The cushion beside me sinks under Bryse’s weight as he sits.
    “Why are you sitting here?” I turn to him suddenly, surprised by my own fury. “Why are you just sitting here when my father is up there dying and my mother is lost who knows where, maybe even--?” I can’t say it. Bryse turns to me sadly and I realize Cort is here, too, and Uncle and Rian are behind them, crowded in the kitchen with Mouli.
    “He’ll be okay, Azi. Donal will heal him up,” Bryse offers.
    “What about Mum?” I shout and jump up, throwing down the mug, which shatters at my feet. “We have to go! We have to find her!” My rant is interrupted by a