by Emmett Swan
“Yep, this is it,” said Conall, looking up at a gray carapace. “Thallach’s footprints led up to this wall and disappeared.”
“Well, then, let’s light up the torches,” said Laughlin. Conall doused the tip of his torch with the lighter fluid and looked at Jessica. Jessica used the lighter to ignite his torch and handed the lighter to Laughlin, who examined it, flicked the wheel, and lit the two other torches.
“How easy that was,” he exclaimed.
“Well,” said Conall, “let’s see what we can find. If my memory serves me well, the footprints in the snow terminated somewhere around this area.”
They brought the torches close to the stone wall, each of which was putting out a generous amount of white smoke. It didn’t take long before the smoke revealed the outlines of a rectangular shape, a shape they did not see in the stone itself.
“That must be it!” said Conall. “Great is the wisdom of the Lady of the Mist.”
All three Kyne brothers placed their torches in the same area, and the curls of smoke clearly outlined a doorframe with a beveled lentil. Conall held his torch lower, covering the interior of the doorframe with thick smoke.
“I don’t see any kind of invisible handle,” he said.
“We could always knock,” said Riley with a smirk.
“No, no,” said Conall. “Thallach must not know we’ve entered his lair or else he will have a chance to use his word magic.”
“I don’t think the handle needs to be invisible,” said Jessica, “or else Thallach himself would have a hard time finding it every time.”
She reached for a hand-sized rocky knob that jutted out two inches from the cliff face. She rotated the knob, and they all heard a click. A seam along the cliff wall instantly became visible.
“You did it!” whispered Conall.
“Yes I did,” said Jessica, giggling lightly with a little pride. She savored the feeling of Conall’s approval.
She looked back at him. “Now what do we do?”
“We complete our mission,” said Laughlin, holding up his sword. “And give Thallach his just desserts.”
Thirty-One
“Open the door,” whispered Conall. “But do it slowly. Very slowly.”
Jessica eased the door open. They all watched the seam around the doorframe widen.
Conall and Meyler drew their swords.
Jessica pulled the door open wide enough to see inside. Before them was a tunnel through solid rock leading straight back. At the end of this stone hallway light trickled in, and they heard a few clangs and clacks emanating from beyond. A peculiar metallic odor assaulted their nostrils.
“That smells like elixir,” she whispered, remembering the scent of the blue vial the Lady of the Mist gave her.
Jessica took a step into the tunnel. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Excitement and fear made her senses especially sensitive. She had never felt so present or alive. She glanced around at the party and put her index finger to her pursed lips to indicate silence.
Conall stepped into the tunnel behind her, grabbing her wrist firmly.
“Hold lassie,” he whispered very softly into her ear. “This is our fight. Let us lead.”
At first, she bristled at his words, but she did see his point. She didn’t have a weapon, and although she felt exhilarated, it wasn’t her fight. And they came from an era when men settled their differences with a firm hand.
Jessica nodded and let Conall, Laughlin, and Meyler quietly step in front. Riley also stepped into the tunnel but stood beside Jessica.
They made their way toward the opening at the other end. Jessica concentrated on walking as quietly as possible.
As they got closer, the popping and clanging noises got louder. They edged up to the opening at the far end of the tunnel and peered into what looked like a workshop. Benches and tables decorated the place and, in the middle of everything, stood an elaborate tangle of copper tubing and glass chambers, some containing boiling liquids of various colors.
“A strange lair for a thief,” whispered Conall.
Standing by the complicated assemblage stood a short stocky man with bushy red hair, a green smock, and a hat. His back was to them and he was staring intently at the lower tip of a long piece of glass piping. A drop of some reddish liquid was suspended, glowing with a soft light. On a small table a couple of inches below was a glass vial positioned directly below the suspended droplet. The little bottle already contained some of the reddish liquid, as it was visible to all, giving off much magical light. The reddish drop was getting near the point at which it would separate, and the man, certainly Thallach, patiently waited, eyes riveted on the droplet.
Conall nodded to Laughlin and Meyler, and they quietly set their swords on the ground. Jessica was glad they were not planning on stabbing Thallach in the back.
The three brothers carefully approached the man, who was still deeply engrossed in the suspended red droplet. Then, from several feet away, they pounced. Laughlin and Meyler grabbed the man by his opposite shoulders while Conall wrapped his arms around his head, knocking the green cap off the man’s bushy hair, and then he used his hands to cover his mouth.
“We have him!” cried Meyler.
The man viciously wiggled to get free, striking with whatever limbs he had available.
“He’s strong as an ox!” said Laughlin.
“Push him to the ground!” called Conall. “And Meyler. A cloth with which to gag him. Jessica! Our swords. Quickly.”
They got their struggling victim to the ground while Conall continued to cup his mouth.
“Aiyee!” Conall cried a moment later, moving his hands away. “The bastard bit me!”
“You stupid—” began Thallach. But before he could utter another word, Meyler wrapped a cloth around his mouth and tied it tight. They grabbed their swords from Jessica, and as Thallach began to rise, Conall stopped him by pressing the tip of his sword into his bare throat.
“Halt!” Conall commanded. Thallach looked at Conall with anger, but the sword, slightly cutting into his throat, persuaded him to stay down. Laughlin and Meyler stood over him and pointed their swords close to Thallach’s face. “Make no attempt to remove that cloth gag or we will skewer you,” Conall added.
“You bastard!” burst out Laughlin, waving his sword menacingly close to Thallach’s nose. “We stood in a forest for two centuries because of you. Now you will end your days!”
He drew his sword back, preparing to strike.
Jessica’s eyes widened. A man was about to lose his life. She felt sick. She averted her eyes; she couldn’t watch. She grabbed Riley and hid his face as well. She’d never seen someone stabbed, much less a throat slit.
Oh my God! Should I let this happen? Her mind flashed briefly back to Curtis’s death. Another life in her hands? She was conflicted and, at that moment, was uncertain she should have gotten involved.
But Laughlin hesitated. He raised his sword even higher and hesitated again. He shook his head and lowered his sword.
“I do not have the stomach for it,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “Someone else must do it.”
Meyler frowned at Thallach, still gagged and lying prone on the floor, and raised his sword. The pinned man’s frightened eyes scanned up and down its sharp blade. Yet Meyler, too, lowered his weapon and turned to Conall.
“I am not cut from the right kind of cloth,” he said. “I cannot slay a defenseless man either, even if it be of great benefit.”
Jessica saw tears in Conall’s eyes. He looked at Jessica, almost apologetically, and turned to Thallach. “This must be done to break the spell, or else we go back to the forest. So I will slay this man.”
He stepped forward and reared back his sword, fear and disgust showing on his face. Conall meant business.
But just before he struck, Thallach, who was still prone on the ground, pulled something out of his pocket and, in an instant, there was a whirl of green light and a rush of wind. The three boys bac
ked off in surprise and then the light disappeared.
And so too had Thallach.
Thirty-Two
Conall acted quickly. Using his sword point, he began exploring the area where, seconds earlier, Thallach had lain. There was no response. No yelp of pain. They all took wild glances around the workshop, but there was no Thallach.
“Curses,” said Conall.
“Why, oh why, did we hesitate?” cried Meyler. “Now we’re doomed.”
“He must still be in this room,” said Conall with urgency. “Laughlin, quickly, stand by the entrance to the tunnel. We must not let him out.”
On a stone ledge along the far wall of the workshop, several feet above their heads, there was another green swirl, and Thallach appeared. He pulled off his gag, shaking his head wildly, and put his hands on his hips.
“What are you? A bunch of creeping thieves, aiming to take the life of an innocent man? A little young to be pursuing such a career, wouldn’t you say?”
“So the pot calls the kettle black,” replied Conall, searching the cave for some means of climbing up to the ledge. “It is your thievery that led us here to begin with.”
“And your evil magic,” cried Laughlin.
“What a bunch of stupid ninnies!” Thallach said. “What is it that you think I have done? Turn you into trees, by love!” He laughed heartily. “I possess no blue elixir. Sounds like Derfaria to me.”
“Don’t listen to him,” cried Riley, covering his ears. “His words are magic.”
Thallach laughed again. “Tell me, my stupid fellows, why do ya think it was I?”
“Two hundred years ago, I caught ye stealing gold from our estate,” said Conall. “I saw your footprints in the snow and we gave chase. Somehow you knew the Lady of the Mist was helping us and that we were on the way to this place to put an end to you and your thieving ways.”
“I thieved your gold, truly,” said Thallach. He pointed to a pile of gold trinkets in the corner of the workshop. “I remember ye, so many years ago. But I knew nothing of your advance on my workshop. And I couldn’t turn you into trees if I had wanted to.”
“We don’t believe a word you say,” spat Laughlin. “Who else would have cause to curse us so?”
Thallach pensively rubbed his beard. “Tell me of this Lady of the Mist. Is she beautiful, with long white hair and flowing white robes?”
“Don’t you dare speak ill of her!” said Meyler, brandishing his sword. “She is kind and helps those in need.”
“Is she now?” said Thallach, smirking. “Yet I must ask. Before she sent you off after me two hundred years ago, did she anoint you with elixir?”
“Well, yes,” said Conall. “An elixir of true seeing, so that we could find your lair.”
“Bah! There is no such thing as an elixir of true seeing. There are only three elixirs in all existence. Luth, which this Lady of the Mist and her kind possess, changes the form of those that receive it. Norl, which is a specialty of my people.” He pulled out a small glass vial filled with greenish, glowing fluid. “It allows one to become invisible and visible.”
“And the third?” asked Jessica, speaking for the first time.
“Yes, lassie. There is a third. It’s called mirclair. It is a rare and precious substance. When applied to the correct rune, it allows one to travel from this world to others.”
“You mean other planets?” asked Riley.
“Planets? What are planets? No. Other worlds. Other realms. I am from Panagu. The Lady of the Mist and her kind are from Derfaria. And mirclair is the only means of travel between them and here.”
“And what color is mirclair?” asked Jessica.
“Why, that’s unimportant,” replied Thallach, glancing at the red vial sitting on the table next to Jessica.
“Could it be red?” she asked, picking up the vial.
“Don’t touch that!” screamed Thallach, stomping his foot on his ledge. “It is mine! I spent two hundred years making it.”
“Relax,” she said and set the vial back on the table. “Just wanted to know.”
Jessica felt compelled to believe this animated fellow; he seemed genuine. Besides, if his words could curse them, he would have already done it instead of trying to explain things.
“The Lady of the Mist wanted that red vial in exchange for helping us destroy you,” said Conall.
“Of course she does, you blithering idiots! Panagu and Derfaria are at war. Panagu is a good, green world full of virtuous people. Derfaria, a gloomy, misty place, is full of corrupt and devious persons. The king of Derfaria wants to send an army into the heart of Panagu and strike at our good people. The Lady of the Mist, whose real name is Keeva, is the king’s daughter, and aids him in that quest.”
“So her father wants this mirclair to send his army to your land,” said Conall, scratching his chin. “Yet here you are making it for yourself. Perhaps to send an army to Derfaria, made invisible by your elixir?”
“I know what you are thinking, but it is not the way of it. We do not wish to strike at Derfaria. But if the generals of Derfaria’s army know we possess the means to strike at them, then they will refrain from striking at us.”
“So you are making mirclair as a deterrent?” offered Jessica. “Like nuclear weapons used to be.”
“Aye, lass,” said Thallach, frowning as he looked at Jessica. “As you say, a deterrent. Mirclair, proper mirclair, must be distilled from gold. There is little gold in Panagu and none in Derfaria, though the Derfarians possess ample silver. To find plentiful gold, one must come here, to this world.”
“So why would Keeva turn us into trees?” asked Conall. “How would that benefit her?”
“Well, let’s see now,” said Thallach, nodding slightly after a moment. “If you and your brothers had captured me after you had discovered my gold thievery but before I’d had time to make the mirclair, then yon red vial would not exist, would it? Keeva, more than anyone, desires violent conflict between Panagu and Derfaria. She would have swarms of Derfarian War Gryphons descend upon our peaceful land. She needed me to have the time and freedom to make it so she could get her hands on it. That drop you see dangling from yon pipe is, in fact, the last of it. That single vial of elixir has taken most of my life to distill.”
“But if that is why she cursed us so many years past, then why would she help us now?” asked Conall.
“She’s not helping you, you ninny, she’s tricking you! Keeva can only appear in this realm using false mirclair, so she cannot take the vial herself. So she must hoodwink gullible types. It would appear she has recruited you idiots to retrieve it for her.”
“This sounds ridiculous,” said Meyler. He turned to his brothers. “Perhaps he is using word magic on us this very moment.”
“He could be,” said Laughlin, peering at Thallach. “Why should we believe what you tell us about wars with other worlds?”
“I can’t do your thinking for ya! I ask you, how did you find my workshop? More elixir of true seeing?”
“No,” said Conall. “We used smoke from torches.”
“Clever. Yet Keeva anointed you with the supposed elixir of true seeing so long ago. Odd.”
“I did wonder about that,” said Conall, scratching his chin again.
“Of course you did! And you should have wondered. Because there is no elixir of true seeing. What she said was the elixir of true seeing was really luth. That was when she changed the lot of you into trees!”
The Kyne brothers silently looked at one another. Jessica could tell they were unsure what to believe. But she had a gut feeling—this dude was real. Even though he was a thief, he had confessed and explained why he needed the gold. It all added up and made perfect sense, logically at least. How did they really know the Lady of the Mist could be trusted? What if she did turn her friends into trees? Maybe she did have an ulterior motive. Maybe she really needed them to retrieve the red elixir for her. She did request it, after all.
“Just a few days ago, I did
not believe there was magic in this world,” she said, breaking the silence. “But now we have seen boys turned into trees and people vanish before our eyes. Magic exists. The elixirs exist. I know that now. Somehow, it doesn’t seem so farfetched that there are other worlds out there.”
“So you believe him?” asked Conall.
“I do,” said Jessica. “I really do.”
Thirty-Three
Jessica studied Thallach, still perched on the stone shelf. “If I am right and he is telling us the truth,” she mused, “then destroying him won’t do anything. It would not lift the tree curse.”
“I see you’re coming to your senses!” cried Thallach.
“If he is telling the truth,” returned Conall. “And…I too think he speaks true.”
“But if this is Keeva’s doing, then she must be the one to do the undoing,” offered Laughlin.
“I concur,” said Conall, this time scratching the back of his neck. “We would have to persuade her to reverse it. But how?”
“Well,” said Jessica. “She wanted the red elixir. The mirclair.”
“Aye! Tis true,” agreed Conall. “That’s our leverage. If she wants the mirclair, then she must take this curse away.”
“No!” cried Thallach, frantically jumping up and down on the ledge. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You give that to her and many innocent people would lose their lives.”
Conall looked at him and shook his head. “I’ve never heard of this place, Panagu. I’m not sure it exists. But I do know that in a day, if this curse is not lifted, we become trees again. We will not finish our lives rooted to the ground. So I will take her the vial.”
There was a swirl of green light on the ledge, and Thallach vanished. Moments later, the vial of mirclair began moving in the air toward the entrance to the workshop. Conall leaped at the vial. Laughlin and Meyler leaped too. They heard Thallach’s cries. “Let me go, you blithering idiots!”
Together, the three of them subdued the invisible Thallach, but just barely. He was strong to begin with, and being invisible, he could strike at the vulnerable places on their bodies without warning.