“He could have. I have given some thought to the how and why of his body thieving. I believe Nivinal helped him. Whereas I originally believed it was some connection between he and I as brothers that allowed him to steal my form, I now think he could have taken anyone.”
That silenced the room. Reginald was not only trapped in the same tiny town we were, but could body hop?
“Now, now, I don’t think it’s as bad as you are thinking,” Lorcan spoke to all of us, but he was watching me. “The magic they have used is not common, but there were some references to it in one of Padraig’s books. At any rate, this spell takes a powerful spell caster. Even someone like Siabiane couldn’t do it. He won’t be hopping about—we need to figure where he has currently hopped to. As for that letter being from either of them, that’s doubtful. It is far too crude. My guess is that my brother, in whatever form he is currently taking, got drunk and spoke of things he shouldn’t have. There is no doubt of which one of them is in charge. I have a feeling if Nivinal knew what he was doing; Reginald might find himself turned into a gnat.”
That was a little better. I was never going out of this stable if I thought that mad man was floating around in different bodies at will. I never found out if he could release at will that shadow monster he let loose to tear up the elven palace, or whether it was tied to the palace. And I didn’t want to know. I had nightmares about the way that thing devoured those guards.
“Which brings us back to trying to break this spell, and avoid anyone who might be looking for us.” Padraig said.
“But why would they ask for the rest of the relics if they got their information from Reginald? He has the first three,” I asked. I didn’t mention where the fourth one was. Flarinen and Kelm didn’t know, but the rest did. Not to mention as far as we knew there was no way to get the weird sapphire manticore out of me. I rubbed my cheek where the invisible mark lingered.
“I think we need to do some investigations into this tomorrow. I’m going to suggest we also post guards in shifts inside here,” Flarinen said. He was assertive, but not the pompous ass I was used to. I’d like to think he changed, but chances were it was simply part of the dampening spell that was affecting all of us.
Alric looked ready to argue, then shook his head. “The fact I was about to say we don’t need to do that tells me we do. Until we break this spell, we all have to fight it.”
He’d laid Garbage down on the table after she passed out, and she hadn’t moved. She did now. “Fight! We fight! Kittens! Minkies! Fight!” She hadn’t opened her eyes, and I was pretty sure she was asleep, but her yells brought a few straggling cries from the faeries above us.
Lorcan jotted a comment in his book. “I think I will keep notes of what our wee friends have been saying. There’s a chance we will find wisdom in their words.”
I looked at the passed-out, drunk, orange faery drooling on the table and shook my head. I really hoped we didn’t have to rely on her and her kin for wisdom. Ever.
They silently divided the watch. Lorcan and I were both left off the list this time, and even though I’d possibly been asleep for four days, I was too tired to argue.
Padraig had been the last watch and he was sitting near the fire reading when I got up the next morning. Judging by the smell, he was also making eggs and mushrooms.
The others were asleep, and from the snores echoing from the loft, so were the faeries. Garbage was twitching on the table so I picked her up and fit her into the small pocket on my shirt. She curled into a ball and stopped twitching.
“No visitors?” I kept my voice low and took the cup of tea Padraig offered.
“I’ve just started my shift, but nothing so far and none before.” He closed the small spell book he’d had open.
I would have asked about it, but I recognized the symbols on the front—it was one of the Dark collection. I knew those books were important for us to figure out how to stop Reginald and Nivinal, but they disturbed the heck out of me.
He noticed my look. “Nothing on breaking this spell, not yet anyway. I have a feeling the solution might be tied to the myth of Null itself. All we can do for now is force ourselves to be active.”
Garbage twitched in my pocket, and the familiar feeling of feet kicking made me reach in and pull her out.
She seemed groggier than usual after drinking herself into a stupor; usually the faeries woke up completely sober. Right now she seemed like she had a hangover.
“Garbage? How are you feeling?”
“No boom. Bad.” Her eyes started to slip closed, then flew open. “Is bad!” She flew out of my hand and up to the loft. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but she made enough noise to wake the two dead men hanging from the gallows down the road.
“Up, up, up! No sleep. Bad!”
The rest of the faeries must not have responded fast enough because soon a rainbow of half-awake faeries were being pushed out of the loft.
Some woke up enough to fly before they hit the ground, others not so much. But they shook themselves off regardless. All were groggy and hung over like Garbage.
“No sleep!” Garbage soon had all of the faeries, plus Bunky and the gargoyle, who flew down of their own power, out of the loft and hanging around the wagons.
I looked closer at the two constructs; Bunky looked annoyed, the gargoyle looked confused. Neither looked groggy. I nudged Padraig and pointed to them.
“You’re right, the faeries are obviously affected, but those two aren’t.” He went over and petted both of them. “Makes sense, given their existence. I would have hoped the faeries would be out of range of this spell as well.”
“So who was attacking the faeries? And couldn’t they have done it quieter?” Covey walked over to us while rubbing her eyes. Garbage was rattling every faery to get them to stay awake. And she wasn’t being quiet about it.
“They realized they are affected by the spell, like us, and Garbage is not happy.” Padraig finished cooking his pile of breakfast and slid some onto a plate for me, then a second one for Covey.
“Sorry they woke you,” I said a moment before I started eating. Yup, whatever had happened, I was starving. Either that or Padraig wasted some magic making these the best eggs ever.
“But why now? Why not while they were guarding you?” Covey poured some tea and sat down to eat. She looked almost as groggy as the faeries, but she obviously was going to stay awake.
That was a good question. If we’d been here for four days, the girls should have been lethargic when I woke up.
“They seemed normal when they arrived here. I assume they were that way when they were with you?” Padraig kept his voice low, all three of us did. But Garbage was still yelling at her faery pack. That it was all in native faery didn’t cut down on the noise or annoyance. I was surprised the others were asleep.
“As normal as they ever are. But I was unconscious for most of the time. Maybe they’d been sleeping for most of it?”
Garbage pulled away from the rest of the faeries, hovered in front of my face, then dropped to the table. I was faster than she was and managed to get my plate away from her feet before she landed.
“Is you. No spell, you sleep.”
Leaf had been trying to shake off her grogginess but flew over as well. “Was him.”
“No him! Him stupid.” Garbage put her hands on her hips and squared off against Leaf. Leaf mimicked her and stepped forward.
“Need him. He stop this.”
Then the two degenerated into a native faery yelling match. I had no idea what they were saying, but it did pull the rest of the faeries over to watch. They all looked far more awake and aware than they had a second ago. I took my tea and plate to the end of the table.
Finally, they stopped yelling, but not before the rest of our people stumbled out of their bedrolls.
“Fine. Is both.” Garbage stepped back from Leaf.
“You’re saying you weren’t affected by the spell at first, because of Taryn and the male faery?
Even though both were unconscious?” Alric came forward and took some tea but waved off the food.
I wasn’t sure how much Alric had heard since he came out in mid yelling match, but he’d heard enough.
“Yes,” Garbage said sullenly.
“Did it have to do with the way he was glowing?” As far as I knew none of my faeries could do that, but I wasn’t sure what purpose it would have really served if both he and I were unconscious. It had to have been an automatic reaction from him against something.
“No,” Garbage said, then looked over to Leaf. “Yes. Maybe. They not finished.”
“You’ve said that before, but what does it mean?” Lorcan didn’t look as groggy as the rest of us, but he did appear to be fighting it.
“Boys here long time. Then boom. They vanish. Now trying come back,” Leaf finally answered him when Garbage folded her arms and stayed silent.
“They no be here. Not finished.”
I could tell Lorcan was going to try to get them to elaborate, but Garbage was furious. This wasn’t the time to question her. I shook my head.
“Girls, why don’t you see what you can find out about this town. But don’t be seen. I know you can do that.” When they wanted to at any rate. “You’re right, there is something bad here and I need you to help us.”
After being, in her mind anyway, shown up by Leaf, Garbage brightened at being needed. Maybe getting them out and about on a mission would help get answers later.
“We do!” She motioned to the pack, and then they all flew out the smoke hole. Bunky looked ready to follow.
“Not you two, please. We need some protection here too.”
He beamed. Well, as much as a thousand-plus-year-old metallic construct could beam. Then he and the gargoyle flew to the rafters above us.
“What kind of spell could hit those faeries?” I looked to my friends. My exceptionally bright friends. That all four of them stared back at me blankly wasn’t reassuring.
11
Lorcan climbed out of whatever mental hole they’d all fallen into first. “Actually, the fact that they are affected could have great bearing on the type of spell being used.”
He sat down and waved Padraig back to the table. “I think if we concentrated on an old balance spell, one that wouldn’t need upkeep as long as it stayed in balance, and one that can impact extremely diverse and high operating metabolisms equally, we might be able to narrow things down.”
Padraig had been about to sit, then, instead, went to the wagon. “We’re going to need all of our books then.”
Alric joined him in hauling out every single spell book they had. Lorcan must have brought a lot on his own, because there were way more than I’d seen before.
“Do you want help?” Covey was almost drooling as she lingered around the books. I knew there were some magic books that she wouldn’t be able to read, definitely any of the Dark ones. But I recognized some of them more as historical works. Spells would be in them, but they would also have a lot more extraneous information besides.
“By all means, another set of gifted eyes is always welcome,” Lorcan said as he deftly shifted some of the more academic works her way.
“That leaves us,” Flarinen said.
He and Kelm had stayed off to the sides during the great faery screech-fest. But they looked ready for something—anything—at this point. Knowing that you’d been slowly squished into inaction due to a spell would piss off anyone. Being a high-ranking elven knight made it more of a personal insult.
“I think the four of us need to get out into town and see what is going on,” Alric said. “Looking back over the past few days, we really saw nothing. This spell hit us faster than we thought.”
“Agreed.” Lorcan looked up from his first book. “We know Reginald was here, and he and Nivinal could be trapped like us. We need to know for sure. If they escaped, we might be able to use the same way.”
“But someone should stay and guard.” Flarinen gave a pointed glance at Alric and me. Without waiting for a response, he went to put on his armor, then shook his head and put his padded gambeson on under a tunic and cloak instead. He did buckle his sword on. Probably a good idea, a pair of fully armored knights would be extremely noticeable.
“I think all four of you should go,” Padraig said. He held up his hand before Flarinen could complain. “You shouldn’t go together, two groups would be best. As for protection, I think myself, Covey, Lorcan, and our two friends up there are more than enough to keep things safe.” He held his hand out, then frowned at it, narrowed his eyes, and held it out again. His sword appeared, but almost as reluctantly as mine usually did.
Alric had been watching, and then did the same move, with the same results. His sword actually took three tries to appear.
“Is the spell causing that?” Both of their swords looked solid as they put them in their sheaths. But neither elf looked happy.
“Nothing can break a spirit sword unless the owner gives it up voluntarily.” Lorcan looked as concerned as Padraig and Alric did. “But something is definitely interfering.”
I went back and grabbed a pair of daggers from the wagon. If those two had trouble calling their well-behaved swords, there was no way I was risking calling my spastic one. Best case would be it not showing up in the middle of a fight. There were plenty of cases that I could think of that were worse than that.
“Kelm and I will take the north end of town. We’ll circle the outskirts, then come back through the center.” Flarinen refrained from any smug comments about failing magic swords. Probably due to the fact that the spirit swords were considered sacred, in a way, by the elves. But the comments were there in his eyes.
“Agreed,” Alric said. “Taryn and I can work our way through the south. There are more bars down there and I know you don’t feel at home with those class of people.” Alric added a few extra daggers and knives. He was always well armed, but he seemed to be piling it on more this time. He was disturbed by the behavior of his sword.
With a nod to the others and a wave to Bunky and the gargoyle who watched from the rafters, we headed out.
Flarinen and Kelm quickly distanced themselves from us, which was fine by me. Even the new and mostly improved Flarinen was a pain in the ass.
“I hate to say it, but for once I’m glad I can’t count on my sword,” I said as we walked down the opposite way of the alley. This wasn’t the direction I’d come in from yesterday, but you couldn’t tell any difference in the appearance.
“It is disturbing, but I trust Padraig to figure it out, along with everything else. Actually, I haven’t seen Padraig crack a book in two days—that should have let me know something was wrong.” He shook his head then stopped as something dropped at his feet.
“I think your friend found you.” He stepped back and gestured at the ground.
My sword was there, in its scabbard even. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pick it up. On a good day it came and went as it pleased. Any day here was not a good day and the spell covering the place was obviously messing with things. I briefly wondered what it would do if I stepped over it.
I shook my head and picked it up, buckling the belt around my waist. With my luck the damn thing would keep plopping in front of me until I tripped over it and broke my neck. “You’d better behave,” I said to the impressive looking sword I now wore. “Seriously, popping out once during a fight will get you left with a bunch of drunk faeries armed with tar and feathers.” I wasn’t certain, but I thought I felt the sword shake. As it should.
I wasn’t completely clear as to how spirit swords came about. They supposedly latched on to strong pure elven souls and protected them during their lives. Mine had popped up during a fight and more or less hung around. Alric and Padraig said it was simply because I hadn’t trained with it since I was young like both of them. I personally thought I ended up with some fancy trickster sword that was the joke of the spirit sword collective.
Maybe I’d hit on something with the f
aery threat. I’d have to make sure the faeries had access to at least a little bit of tar and a feather or two next time they were around it. The sword was gorgeous, with detailed markings that even impressed the elves. Therefore, assuming it might be vain enough not to want a bunch of tiny messy drunks crawling on it was a safe bet. Of course, up until a year ago thinking about a sword caring whether it got dirty or not would have had me heading for the Shimmering Dewdrop and a few dozen pints.
“Are you done threatening your sword?” Alric had a half smirk. He was already slipping into the fighter/thief part of his persona, but he obviously thought my reaction to the capricious sword was amusing.
“I think it and I have a better understanding now, so yes.” I patted my sword and followed him down the alley.
It dropped us out at a much busier section of town than where I’d come from. The place looked horrific. Run-down storefronts and bars co-mingled with an odd magic wares shop and a land surveyor. That small shop was packed. I peered around the crowd to see the front. The dirty flimsy-looking window was almost covered in signs of all sizes advertising maps to get out of Null. Myth or not, Lorcan was right about where we were.
It was odd to watch the people churning around the window front. The door wasn’t open, and a crude wooden sign said ‘closed’. But they all pushed forward to see the signs. The weird part was they didn’t seem to be motivated. It was as if some small part of their brain knew what was needed and was forcing them to be there—but they weren’t quite sure what to do about it.
I shivered and stepped back. There was no way I was going to let myself or my friends become like that. My hand went to my sword.
“Now that was interesting,” Alric said. But he looked at me, not the odd crowd behind us. “The look on your face as you turned was of a true warrior. And I think your sword rattled again.”
“We can’t become like them,” I said with more force than I’d intended. The people behind me were more terrifying than the syclarions I’d fought a few days ago.
The Golden Basilisk (The Lost Ancients Book 5) Page 7