Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends

by Lydia Sherrer

  Motioning for Hawkins and Sir Kipling to back up, Lily knelt by the crack and reached into her backpack to withdraw a device she’d prepared for this very purpose. It was engraved with the same runes she had on her ward bracelet and which had been on the seal: the runes for a passive barrier field. Only, the parameters of this ward were much different. Instead of creating a field of medium strength that would allow easy movement but stop high-velocity objects, this device would create a field so powerful that it had almost the same effect as a physical shield spell. It would make getting through the crack extremely difficult and, hopefully, delay John Faust long enough for them to complete their task.

  Placing the device on the ground by the crack, she took a deep, calming breath and was about to begin casting when she heard an odd squeaking noise out in the cave. It sounded like a mouse, or perhaps a bat. Then it dawned on her, and she scowled. Sticking a hand out of the crack and waving, she felt a tiny weight alight upon it. Lily drew in her hand to reveal Pip nestled in her palm.

  The pixie took to the air, flying excitedly around her several times before landing on her shoulder and tugging affectionately on her ear.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Lily growled. She’d told Sebastian that under no circumstances was he to send his fae friends with her. She had no idea how Morgan, or even Thiriel, might react to their presence. Obviously, he had ignored her. “You go right back to Sebastian and tell him he needs to do a better job of following orders.”

  Lily couldn’t understand the pixie’s rapid speech, but she got the gist of it. With a sigh, she tried one last time. “Yes, I’m sure he told you to ignore whatever I say. But you can’t be here. Thiriel will be coming soon. You don’t like her, right? Why don’t you go back to Sebastian?”

  The tiny figure squeaked stubbornly, wrapping her minuscule arms as far around Lily’s neck as they would go and hugging her tight, as if to proclaim that they would have to drag her off kicking and screaming—or fluttering and squeaking, in her case.

  Heart melting despite herself, Lily let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. You can come.”

  The pixie took off from her shoulder and did a few triumphant loops in the air before diving into Lily’s open backpack. The muffled peeps which drifted out of the bag made it clear she had no intention of leaving.

  Muttering to herself, Lily zipped the bag mostly closed, leaving an opening through which the pixie could wiggle free if need be. “Just be quiet, okay? Absolutely silent. Got it?”

  She heard an affirmative peep.

  “And I might be moving fast, so you’ll get jostled around in there if you don’t hang onto something.”

  Another peep.

  Having done all she could, she turned back to her task and took a moment to carefully cast the appropriate spells onto her blocking ward, activating its field. When it was finally done, she swung on her backpack and took off down the tunnel at a jog, surprising Hawkins and Sir Kipling. They quickly caught up, and all three raced toward Morgan’s tomb, the slap and patter of their feet the only sound in the eerie darkness.

  Passing the enchanted wall—still open as she’d left it—they slowed their pace, finally coming to a stop just outside the rectangular room. By some unspoken agreement, they all hesitated. Lily guessed her companions felt the same apprehension and awe that she felt, that of stepping into a tomb that was now occupied with an ancient entity. For Lily knew the pedestal would no longer be empty.

  Though the language had been cryptic and the clues difficult to put together, she and Cyril had finally figured out Morgan’s great plan to preserve herself for her eventual return. The hidden seal Lily had just broken was a lugal-nam, a time-looping device that Morgan had used to shut herself off from the world for over fifteen hundred years—longer, if they hadn’t come looking for her. The tomb had appeared empty because, even though it was the right location, it hadn’t been the right time. Just as she and Sebastian had been suddenly pulled back into the normal flow of time when he’d shattered the lugal-nam in Pitts, so Morgan would have been pulled back to normal time as soon as her seal was broken. A seal which had been preserving her in a pristine state for over a thousand years, hidden in a time loop parallel to, but inaccessible from, the normal flow of time.

  Lily was the first to start forward, propelled by the knowledge that John Faust was on his way and having no desire to face him with Morgan in possession of her full power. With her light orb following dutifully above her head, the circle of light slowly advanced to reveal the pedestal. Upon it lay a woman.

  The wizard’s long, wavy hair encircled her head like a halo as its golden red tresses spread out on all sides. Her skin was pale and smooth and her face regal, with high, prominent cheekbones and a long nose above thin lips. Overall, it seemed a rather harsh face to Lily, but beautiful in a proud and sharp kind of way. Approaching carefully, she admired the woman’s richly embroidered clothing. Unlike the clinging medieval dress with flared sleeves that she had imagined—another result of modern fantasy images of Morgan le Fay—this woman wore a looser, smock-like dress of deep purple that reached to her ankles, gathered at the waist by a woven belt. At the lower hem, around the loose sleeves, and along the v-neckline the cloth was richly embroidered with gold and silver thread. About her shoulders and entwined around her folded arms was a shawl or cloak of blue and green. She slept deeply, with only the barest rise and fall of her chest to indicate she was alive and not a well-preserved corpse. Lily knew from the woman’s own journal that she’d been cast into an enchanted sleep to wait out the long years, and the same pages contained the spell to awaken her.

  Recalling herself, Lily carefully pinpointed the conveyance spell John Faust had left in the room. With dimmu runes only faintly scratched into the stone to anchor it, the spell was already fading, but Lily wanted it completely gone. Taking out a small squirt bottle Hawkins had acquired for her the night before, she aimed it at the runes and soaked them thoroughly with the mixture in the bottle: iron salts dissolved in water. She had no idea whether her innovative, if unorthodox idea would work, but she thought it was worth a try. The runes were near the ceiling and so out of easy reach to destroy any other way. In theory, there should be enough iron in the mixture to disrupt an already weak and fading spell…Yes! Lily could feel the magic fade as the spell dissipated. She would have to pass on the trick to Madam Barrington when she got home.

  Now that she was ensured her privacy, Lily got to work, sending Hawkins to stand by the door not only to listen for approaching footsteps, but also so as not to alarm a newly wakened Morgan with too many unfamiliar faces.

  With hesitant steps, she approached one end of the pedestal and gently laid her hands on either side of Morgan’s temples. The woman’s skin was cold to the touch, and she made no movement or sign, being too deep in a magically induced coma to react to outside stimulus.

  Lily did not dig out her copy of Morgan’s journal for this spell. This one she had memorized, since she would need it later in a hurry and would have no time to read it off a piece of paper. She did, however, clear her mind and breathe slowly and rhythmically, trying to reach that almost meditative state that would enable her to use magic without the crutch of speaking. It was crucial she verify her ability to cast this spell without words. Her plan depended on it.

  Having ordered Sir Kipling to hide on the other side of the pedestal, warning him to be quiet no matter what, Lily slowly and carefully drew power from the Source. She called it, shaped it, and propelled it forth with her mind as it flowed from her into Morgan, carrying the commands of the spell. As with most magic, the result was not flashy or impressive. Once she completed the spell, Morgan’s breath hitched, then began again, now more deep and rapid. Lily removed her hands and stepped around to the side of the pedestal, nervousness growing as the woman’s eyes fluttered and she groaned softly, starting to shift. Though Lily had practiced what she was going to say, she was still terrified of what might happen, unsure if she could maintain the ruse. Lying wasn�
�t her forte.

  Finally, Morgan’s eyes opened. She looked groggy, and Lily remembered how she herself had felt after coming out of the time loop at Pitts. That feeling would be amplified a hundredfold, though Morgan had the advantage of having slept through the last fifteen hundred-plus years of looping time.

  Speaking softly, Lily greeted the woman, hoping to make her presence known without startling her. “Hello, Morgan. My name is Lilith Igraine LeFay, one of your inheritance. I found your journal and have come to awaken you.”

  Morgan’s eyes followed the sound, locking onto Lily’s face and widening as understanding slowly dawned. She shifted, struggling to sit up, and Lily reached out hesitantly to help her, feeling downright bizarre to be touching clothes—not to mention the human in them—that were over a millennium and a half old.

  Once she had helped the wizard shift to a sitting position, feet dangling off the pedestal, Lily tried again.

  “My name is Lilith LeFay. Do you remember where you are?”

  Looking around haughtily, Morgan spotted Hawkins and eyed him with suspicion as she gathered her shawl-cloak more closely around her. She spoke a commanding word in a language Lily didn’t understand, but assumed was Old Brittonic.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” Lily said, hoping to appear both unthreatening and confident at the same time. She tried using hand gestures as she spoke, indicating Hawkins was with her. “That is my manservant. He is no threat.”

  Morgan le Fay eyed her, looking down her long nose at Lily’s exceedingly odd getup—odd at least to someone from ancient Britain. Miraculously, Lily’s clothes weren’t covered with the dirt and scuffs they should have been, thanks to Emmaline’s family magic. But still, with no gold or silver in evidence, Morgan probably thought her a lowly peasant.

  The proud wizard spoke a sharp word, gesturing to the room’s entrance and looking like she was about to get up.

  “No, no!” Lily waved her hands, trying to indicate Morgan should stay seated, then holding up a finger, hoping that it was the universal sign for “wait” even back then. “Wait just one moment. I am bringing a friend who will help us.”

  Lily slowly backed away, still holding up that finger. Morgan stilled, perhaps deciding to wait and see what happened. Now with some space between her and the pedestal, Lily prepared herself, running over in her mind the words Sebastian had drilled into her the night before.

  “Elwa Tahiri’elal. Ta’il ihki naroom melihi’ara.” The words rolled off her tongue, perhaps not with the same grace as Sebastian possessed, but still passable. She watched Morgan carefully as she spoke, and noted that the woman’s eyes widened in recognition. Having dealt with the fae herself, she probably understood at least some of the words Lily used.

  After the echoing ring of her voice faded, there was a moment of tense silence. For a fleeting breath, Lily felt paralyzing doubt clutch at her heart. What if Thiriel didn’t come? They would be doomed.

  But then the darkness around them began to swirl and coalesce, and suddenly before them stood the fae queen of decay, tall and regal in her dazzling raiment. Compared to her, Morgan looked like a little girl playing at being princess.

  “What is it child, that you have called me to this place?” The queen’s words were just as cold and flat as they had been in her own domain. Belatedly, Lily remembered to kneel and bow her head. It annoyed her to do so, but it was necessary to pull off this grand charade. She peeked at Morgan from the corner of her eye and saw that the woman had risen from the pedestal looking unsteady, but standing tall, almost as tall as Thiriel herself.

  “Oh Queen of Darkness,” Lily began, head bowed, “I have found the great wizard of whom we spoke. I beg that you remember our agreement and grant her the power of decay.”

  Lily assumed Morgan still couldn’t understand them at this point, since they were speaking English. But together with Sebastian, they had already worked out a solution to this in Thiriel’s subterranean audience chamber several days before.

  Stepping forward, Thiriel reached up and gently placed her ebony black hands on either side of Morgan’s temple. The wizard flinched back reflexively, but Thiriel said a word that sounded like the same language Morgan had been speaking, calming the woman. After a moment in which Lily caught the brief green glow of fae magic in her mind’s eye, Thiriel stepped back and addressed Morgan again.

  “Are you the one they call Morgen of Avalon?”

  Shock flashed across Morgan’s face, obviously not having expected the sudden ability to understand English. But she quickly recovered. Drawing herself up, she spoke in a clear, musical voice. “I am Morgen, rightful ruler of Avalon. What business have you here…Queen Thiriel?”

  From her hesitation, Lily could tell it galled the wizard to address the fae as queen. But the woman was no fool. She knew a powerful fae when she saw one. Which made Lily wonder at her use of the word “rightful.” Perhaps an attempt to assert her authority in the face of being expelled from Avalon? If the fae had been privy to that event, Morgan’s insecurity would make sense.

  “That is for your descendant to explain.” Thiriel stepped back, putting Lily front and center.

  Lily swallowed, mouth as dry as paper. Daring to raise her head, she met Morgan’s eyes, though she remained kneeling just for good measure. “My lady, I am your descendant and faithful servant. Your journal was passed down to me through many generations of LeFays, but I was the first to unravel its secrets and seek you out, so that you may reclaim what is rightly yours and the LeFay name may be returned to honor.” Lily barely managed to get the words out around her clumsy tongue—possibly the exact words her father might have used, had he been kneeling there instead. Finishing the speech, she shut her mouth, trying to keep her face relaxed and guilt-free.

  Morgan took two slow, measured steps toward her. Eyes locked, she ignored Thiriel completely as she reached down with one slender white hand and took Lily’s chin in her grip. Her fingers were like ice, and her blue-eyed gaze as piercing as an arrow to the heart. She stared into Lily’s eyes and Lily could feel some sort of magic reaching out, touching her. With growing fear, Lily realized Morgan could silent cast with the best of them, and was most likely attempting to ascertain the truth of Lily’s words. Lily could only hope that her ward—with its otherworldly power—would protect her from revealing the truth.

  Finally, Morgan smiled. It was a thin smile that didn’t reach the eyes, yet Lily was so happy to see it she almost forgot herself and sagged in relief. “You are indeed my inheritance, Lilith. You have done well to find me. Now explain why you have brought this fae to me.” She gestured dismissively at Thiriel, and Lily thought she could feel the chamber’s temperature drop a degree.

  “I sought the fae’s help in finding your resting place, and they proposed an alliance,” Lily hurried to explain. “They have a gift, as a show of good faith.”

  “Indeed?” Morgan eyed Thiriel, suspicious. “And why would the fae bestow such a gift? If I recall, it is not in their nature to be so…generous.” That last word was said with a curl of the lip as Morgan invited a rebuttal.

  “Your servant mistakes the situation,” Thiriel said, gaze level. “It is no gift, but a trade. Damiar was a fool to think his minor power could enable you to reach your full potential. I know better, and intend that you be equipped with the tools to achieve our goal.”

  “Which is, exactly?” Morgan asked, seeming more interested.

  “The culling of mundanes. In the centuries you have slept they have bred and spread across the land like locusts, destroying the earth and driving wizards almost to extinction. Thus, their…reduction…would benefit both our races, fae and wizardkind.”

  “Go on,” Morgan said, eyes now glinting maliciously. Lily tried not to shiver, both at the obvious lust in Morgan’s eyes, but also at how cold and matter-of-fact Thiriel sounded as she discussed slaughtering humans. As if she really wanted to. It was a good thing this next part was up to the fae queen, because there was n
o way Lily could convincingly pretend she wanted to perpetrate such atrocities. Though Morgan’s journal had alluded to such views, Lily had hoped it was simply her interpretation. That she wasn’t the bitter, power-hungry individual every source claimed she was. Perhaps she’d been benevolent once, in her youth. But time and circumstance had changed her. The price of her power had been her heart.

  “Not all the fae are in agreement,” Thiriel continued. “Damiar is the most against such a plan. Therefore, you will return his power to me. I can give you far greater power in its stead. You shall go forth, unstoppable, and I shall have Damiar by the throat.”

  Morgan seemed to think about this and Lily held her breath. “We may have the same goal, but how can I be sure your power is the greater? Don’t think me a fool, to relinquish what I have for something inferior.”

  “Inferior?” Thiriel’s quiet voice cut through the frigid air and Lily flinched, hoping the fae queen’s wrath was for show. She loomed closer to the skeptical wizard, seeming to grow even taller as the darkness she wore like a cloak flared out, dimming Lily’s light orb. “I am Tahiri’elal, the Aspect of Decay. I control the ending of all things. I am destruction. I am death.” While not technically true, Lily suspected the fluid and malleable nature of the English language enabled Thiriel to get away with such sweeping statements.

  They seemed to have their intended effect, in any case. Though the fae queen had not raised her voice, the power and threat behind the words made Morgan shrink back and she averted her eyes. “It may be as you say. However, it should not be unreasonable to request a demonstration.”

  Lily’s stomach clenched. This was not good. What would Thiriel do? What would convince Morgan to give up her fae magic?