by Layton Green
“Tell me of this thief you seek,” the Nephili said to Will.
Will and Mateo gave him every detail they could remember from that horrible night in Freetown when the electromancer had slain Caleb’s family. When the tale was finished, the Nephili told them to approach the basin. Will took a spare cloth out of his pack and used it to hold the three-pronged dagger as he knelt in front of the geyser-like pool of bubbling color. Faint pops and crackles emanated from within, yet he felt no heat, detected no odor.
His companions and dear friends, Yasmina and Mateo and Dalen, stood behind him. As Will lowered the blade, the colored energy took shape as before, forming an image of Praha that began to transform as soon as it materialized. It’s moving it with its mind, Will realized.
At first he thought the scene was dissolving, and wondered if the Nephili had lost the strength to continue, but then he realized it was changing too fast to follow, as if a movie reel of the city was playing at warp speed.
My God, he’s not just moving it. He’s sifting through time.
With a deep breath, Will did as he was asked and dipped the blade into the pool. As soon as the blade made contact with the seething energy, he felt a slight resistance, akin to pushing through a soft gel. He lowered it all the way to the hilt before drawing it out. Right before his eyes, the tip of the blackened metal turned to silver, so bright it glowed. The phenomenon continued down the blade until the entire dagger gleamed like new. Even the hilt was affected, changing to solid diamond as Will watched in awe.
“Lucka,” Dalen whispered behind him.
The speed of change inside the pool had slowed considerably, now revealing the image of a splinter-size man with a ferrety face, holding a platinum bag as he stood alone on a street in the dystopian cityscape of Praha. Will watched him smash a crystal sphere on the ground, opening a portal that the man stepped inside.
“This is whom you seek?” the Nephili asked.
“That’s him!”
The image resumed shifting, again too fast to follow. Eventually the surface returned to normal, and the Nephili said, “It is finished. Fulfill your promise, hominid. Bring the restored dagger to me.”
Mateo laid a hand on Will’s shoulder, his voice urgent. “The sword, cousin. Try the sword.”
Will knew at once what he meant. In fact, selfishly, he had thought of little else since the Nephili had first mentioned the restorative power of the basin. Slowly reaching back, Will dropped the sword he had picked up in the Agora and slid Zariduke out of its scabbard, barely daring to breathe as he gripped the weapon in his free hand and lowered it towards the basin.
What if it only worked on Nephili weapons?
What if the magic of Zariduke blocked the process in some way?
What if it disintegrated inside the strange energy?
Catching his breath in anticipation, he dipped the blade into the basin and, after a long moment, withdrew it. His disappointment, when he saw no sign of restoration, physically pained him.
“I’m sorry,” Yasmina said, as Mateo squeezed his shoulder.
After a long moment in which the weight of the world seemed to rest on his back, Will turned away, only to notice that a tiny gleam of silver had appeared at the tip of the legendary blade. Stunned, he clutched the hilt tighter as he turned to thrust the blade into the basin again, but then saw that he didn’t need to: the plague-damaged sword was transforming before their eyes, the touch of silver continuing to envelop the blade, slowly but surely returning it to its natural state.
Mateo and Dalen whooped in joy, Yasmina hugged Will from behind, and he stood there feeling both elated and numb, shocked by the sudden reversal. Dalen cast a simple illusion, an image of a tree, and Will swept the blade through it.
The tree disappeared in a snip of blue-white light.
Will blew out a long breath and gripped the weapon in both hands, a jumble of emotions pouring through him as Skara returned from behind the throne bearing a jade-colored glass prism.
“It’s full of Nephili artifacts,” she said in a stunned voice. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s a priceless collection. Miraculous.”
“Hand me the gateway stone,” the Nephili said.
“Who’s the thief?” Will asked. “Who sent him?”
“I do not speak in hominid names. But all will be revealed.”
“What caused the plague?” he said suddenly, feeling as if he had to know.
“All species decline,” the Nephili said, after a moment. “Even ours. Entropy and corruption are the cycle of nature.”
Will could tell there was more to the story, far more, but that the Nephili didn’t have the time or the inclination to tell him.
“Save your pity, hominids. I doubt your own pathetic kind will see the end of the millennium.”
“You think so little of us,” Skara mocked. “Yet we’ve outlasted you. You’re the last of your kind, a fading shadow.”
The Nephili seemed to straighten in his chair, his voice soaked with scorn. “Outlasted? You who have barely seen the passage of an ilych dare to reproach us? We who have seen the glaciers come and go, many times over? We who have watched your kind evolve with the animals in the steaming jungles and boiling plains? We who exist in a manner beyond your comprehension, we who built the vynilych, we who wrote new laws of nature? Now give me the dagger and the gateway stone, little hominids. Do not break your bargain, or I will eat your souls instead.”
“Give it to him, Skara,” Will said. “Now.”
Looking as meek as a lamb, she approached to hand the emerald prism to the Nephili, who slowly upturned his palm to receive it, as if receiving an offer from a lowly subject. But then Skara held the wafer out to him as well.
“Skara!” Will shouted. “What are you doing?”
The meekness in her posture disappeared. “Do you think I want to slay a shriveled shadow such as this? I desire a trophy for my hall, not a desiccated cadaver.”
The being rasped another laugh that sent a chill arcing down Will’s spine. He hurried over to brush Skara aside and extend the three-pronged dagger to the Nephili. “Open the portal, and I’ll give you the knife. Skara, if you have any sense at all, you’ll stop this madness and come with us.”
“So many gifts,” the Nephili mocked. His long fingers closed on the prism as his gaze shifted to Skara. “I’m afraid I need a taste of the tjulkych to open the portal. I haven’t the power.”
“You’re lying,” Will said. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“I do not lie, hominid. You did not ask.”
“Don’t do it, Skara,” Will warned.
But the adventuress had already snapped off a sliver of the emerald disk, which broke apart like a piece of hardened clay, the inside as bright as the surface. Skara tossed the piece to the Nephili, and it landed on his chest. He stared down at it as if too weak to take it, but then the sliver of wafer levitated into the air and flew into its mouth.
Within moments, the being eased out of its chair and stood before them on wobbly legs. A pair of angular wings, hidden behind his back when he was seated, unfolded as he rose. Still hunching, the Nephili turned away from them as its form started to solidify, filling out before their eyes. When it turned around and drew to its full height, exposing a naked but sexless form, its wings had turned as white as fresh milk, its flesh tinged with a deep golden hue that seemed more like molten metal than mortal flesh. The radiant being drew to its full height, standing more than nine feet tall, so beautiful Will felt dazed as he gazed upon the glory of it.
He felt a nail dig into his elbow, hitting the pressure point and causing him to wince. “Don’t look at it,” Yasmina said in a harsh whisper. “Look anywhere besides its face.”
Though it took an act of immense will, Will shuddered and did as he was told, jerking his gaze to the side. What have we unleashed?
With a barely perceptible flick of its wrist, the Nephili sent the prism of solid emerald flying twenty feet away, in the dire
ction of the basin. It shattered to expand into a translucent portal, beyond which could be seen a parched brown hillside spilling into a body of water the color of a glacial spring.
The Nephili closed its long fingers around the hilt of the knife, the movement so precise and beautiful that Will was spellbound. He felt as if he could watch it perform such simple actions forever and ever.
Yasmina squeezed him harder. Snap out of it, Will.
Yet the Nephili broke its own spell as it tipped back its head and roared like a pride of lions, a sound so booming and terrible and fraught with power that Will rocked back on his heels. “Flee while you can, hominids, for my bargain with you ceases once the portal closes.”
Will clutched Zariduke as he turned to his friends. “Go!”
Yasmina had to yank Dalen and Mateo away by the collar, but then one by one, the three of them slipped through the portal and disappeared. Will avoided looking at the Nephili as he turned to Skara, her cudgel and bladed cane poised for action. “Come with us, Skara.”
“I have unfinished business.” Rather than appearing awed by the Nephili’s presence, she looked as focused and aware as he had ever seen her.
“You’ll be stuck here forever, even if you do survive.”
“There are other gateways inside that chamber. I know it in my bones. That and far more.”
“So you would slay me first, hominid?” the Nephili said in amusement, looking down on her as a cat eyes a mouse creeping towards its hole.
“This is suicide,” Will urged. “Get out of here.”
“There is more to Skara Brae than meets the eye,” she said. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment. If I die, then so be it.”
Will looked back and saw the portal start to shimmer. “Last chance.”
With a single flap of its wings, the Nephili skimmed lightly atop the floor, drawing closer to Skara as it flexed its limbs, awakening from its long period of dormancy. “Perhaps I shall conduct a final concert before I take my own life.”
As Will watched in dread fascination, Skara broke off another piece of the wafer and shoved it into her mouth. Her body went rigid as the Nephili roared in laughter. It twirled the diamond hilt of the dagger through its elegant fingers, and Will could feel the power emanating from the creature. He wondered how Zariduke would fare if he were forced to fight it.
As Skara’s eyes bulged and her skin became imbued with a golden tinge, she stumbled drunkenly around the room, as if trying to regain control of her actions. “The p-p-power,” she stuttered, right before she started to jerk and dance like a marionette, her weapons clanging to the floor.
“Very good,” the Nephili said. “An entertainment most splendid.”
Will turned back to the portal. It was starting to close. He couldn’t leave Skara like that, and in desperation, he rushed towards her, thinking to pick her up and carry her through the gateway himself.
“I told you to leaveeeee!” the Nephili roared, opening its mouth and releasing a blast of energy that pushed Will away at the same time he felt a force tugging at him from behind, as if the basin were a giant magnet. Unable to stop himself, he tumbled backwards across the floor and through the shimmering oval of the portal.
-30-
Will shielded his eyes with a hand, the sudden bright sunlight and endless blue sky a shock to his system after the lightless expanse of Old Town Praha and the gloomy lair of the Nephili.
The portal had deposited them on a golden sweep of beach that spilled into a sea the color of crushed blueberries. Behind them was a range of parched brown hills speckled with shrubby vegetation. There were no buildings or people in sight, no animals roaming the hillsides. “Does anyone have any idea where we are?”
“I see no sign of a thief or the Coffer,” Mateo said, bending down to touch the sand and ensure that it was real. “I fear the Nephili has tricked us.”
Yasmina planted her owl staff on the ground, the light breeze ruffling her hair. “If we were back home, I’d say we landed on a Greek island.”
“Huh,” Will said. “Can you see anything in the distance, Yaz?”
“As far as I can tell, we’re alone here.”
As the others continued to absorb their surroundings, Will verified that all of his possessions were intact, including his paladin’s shield and armband and, most of all, Zariduke. A rush of emotion overcame him as he held the sword in his hands, its magic restored to full power.
Will turned to find Dalen staring at the line of hills behind them with an uneasy expression. “Are you okay?”
The young mage looked as if he had seen a ghost.
“My, my,” a familiar mocking voice called out, before Will could ask Dalen what was wrong. “I’ve never seen such a ragtag band of adventurers.”
Will’s jaw slowly dropped as a lithe figure emerged from a rocky outcropping at the base of the nearest hill, less than a hundred feet from their position.
“I must confess, Will the Builder, that I’m as confused as you look.”
“Mala?” he said, incredulous.
Her smirk expanded as she approached, clad in black leather pants tucked into calf-high boots, a lace-up crimson top, her weighted blue sash, and the usual dazzling display of pouches, weapons, and jewelry. “I assure you I am not the Queen of Albion.”
“But how did you get here? Where are we?”
“I was going to ask you the same questions.”
The adventuress swept her eyes across the group, acknowledging the others with a curt greeting as she fingered an amulet around her neck. “If I’m not mistaken, we’re on a Minoan isle, though I’ve no idea which one. I arrived minutes ago, through a device that . . . allows the bearer to travel to the location of another.”
“A portal?” Mateo asked.
“Of sorts. I fear . . .” Fingering the sash at her waist, she turned to regard the hills in the distance. “How did you arrive?”
Will exchanged a glance with the others. For a moment, he thought the Nephili might have sent them to his home world, but Mala’s presence seemed to confirm they were still on Urfe. “It’s kind of a long story. We’re supposed to be tracking the Coffer thief.”
“You came through a portal? From Praha?”
“That’s right.”
“And no one else came with you?”
“That would be rather impossible.”
“Why?”
“As you said, it’s a long story.”
Mala pursed her lips as she swept the horizon again. “Then I suppose it’s time for an exchange of tales. The danger might not be as imminent as I thought, but until I know what in Queen’s Blood is going on and where we are, we should all be on high guard.”
“I might be able to help,” Dalen said, in a strangely subdued voice.
All eyes turned to the illusionist. His face had paled, and his eyes kept roving side to side. “What do you know?” Will asked. Where are we?”
“I think I’ve been here before,” he replied, as if in a trance. “Long ago.”
Yasmina laid a hand gently on the illusionist’s shoulder. “Dalen? Are we in danger?”
“Quite possibly. I . . . can explain.”
“Let’s continue this conversation in a more secluded location.” Mala said. “I noticed shelter when I arrived. Come.”
Without waiting for a reply, the adventuress turned and led them back to the outcropping, into a little cove shielded from view by an overhang at the bottom of the hill. Mala sat lotus-style facing the sea as the others dropped their packs and spread out in a loose circle on the sand. Will opened a flask of water and took a long pull, then laid Zariduke in his lap as he listened to Dalen’s story.
“I told you I’m from Hellas, a city in Macedonia,” the illusionist said to no one in particular, staring off at the sea. And you’ve all heard me speak about my Da. But the truth is that I’m Minoan, not Macedonian—and I haven’t seen my Da for a very long time.”
“Why lie to us?” Will asked.
/> “Because the Minoans,” Mala said, “are shunned throughout the region, outside of their own islands.”
“It’s true we’re an insular people,” Dalen said, “and have a reputation for witchcraft and dark sorcery.”
Will started to laugh, since Dalen was about as edgy and darkly sorcerous as a Disney character, but the illusionist’s face was more troubled and somber than he had ever seen it, and Will’s laughter faltered. He realized how very little he knew of Dalen’s true past.
“Lucka, we’re also very clannish. Often our youth are sent to live as servants with older, more prosperous relatives. For those who possess magic, if we’re lucky, we become apprentices.” He took a deep breath and released it. “I have an uncle named Takros. He’s a Kalaktos conjurer.”
“By the Queen,” Mala said. “I know of these wizards, and of Takros in particular. He’s a well-known collector with a fearsome reputation.”
“Have you worked for him?” Will asked.
“Contrary to public opinion, there are some assignments even I decline to take.”
“It’s true,” Dalen said, staring stone-faced at the sea. “My uncle is a very bad person.”
Will frowned. “What exactly is a Kalaktos conjurer?”
“An illusionist like myself,” Dalen said, “only with far more power. Enough to enter the ancient brotherhood of Kalaktos. When I turned ten, Takros visited my family and demanded I live with him and become his apprentice. As weak as I was, I was the only one of my cousins with true power. Still, when the time came, I would never have survived the trials of the brotherhood. I haven’t the strength.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Will said. “You’ve improved so much. So this is why you left home?”
Dalen lip’s parted in a soft smile. “Krikey, no. I was too young at the time to realize any of this. Yet my parents knew what sort of man Takros is, and that he would try to corrupt me, even if I survived the trials. They also knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. When my parents tried to put him off by claiming I was sick, he sent a message to the entire village, an elaborate phoenix illusion that delivered his demand for my services and dissolved once the sun set. I was enraptured, and the rest of the village demanded that I go with Takros, fearing his wrath. I was too young to know any better . . .” Dalen reached down and scooped up a handful of sand, then let it trickle through his fingers.