by Nesa Miller
She shifted from one foot to the other. “Spit it out, Cappy.”
A glint shined in his eyes, but he responded in a serious tone. “There is the matter of the missing stones.”
Her gaze went from Cappy to Thoric. “Stones? You said LOKI’s was the only one missing.”
Thoric nodded. “Natas recently discovered the disappearance of the COL stone. The other clans have been notified. We’re awaiting their responses.”
She stared at the two men. “Is that the real reason for this visit? To question Dar?” Her fisted hands slid to her sides, feeling her anger on the rise. It was all she could do to remain calm. “I could understand the one from LOKI, but… Do you really think he would do such a thing?”
Cappy laughed, brushing it aside with a wave of a hand. The deadpan expression on Arachnia’s face dispelled his attempt at any further humor. “It is merely speculation at this point. We must be thorough in our investigation for the safety of the Alamir. Dar’s standing with LOKI and, as a result, the Alamir have been in question for some time now.”
“I never thought to hear it confirmed by your own lips, Cappy.”
“Surely this is no surprise to you, Arachnia. You’ve known for some time of our efforts to keep track of the man.”
She stepped back, her gaze moving back and forth between the two men. “Not that. Yes, I’ve known of it and thought it merely part of the overall efforts to monitor everyone involved with the Alamir, as well as the Alamir themselves.” Another flush deepened the pink of her cheeks. “What I can’t understand is the fact you’ve ordained this insane belief that Dar would act against the Alamir after all he’s done for us. Have you lost your mind?” She blew out a hot breath. “Thoric, tell me you’re not a part of this ridiculous witch hunt.”
Thoric placed his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged him away. His hands flexed and fisted as he spoke. “Ara, I am here to ensure Dar is treated with the utmost respect, not railroaded into anything inappropriate.”
Disbelief colored her laugh. “Inappropriate?! Our reason for being here is inappropriate. I think that not only will I keep an eye on the demon girl…” Her gaze impaled each man in turn, “I’ll keep it on the two of you, as well. You all make my pitchfork twitch.”
“Like I said,” Freeblood continued, putting his finger under her chin and forcing her to look at him, “they have nothing to do with us. Finish your breakfast. Then I want you to go upstairs and rest.”
“I feel fine. Stop treating me like I'm the ‘little woman’.” Faux pushed away from the kitchen bar. “There's a fight coming and I intend to be in on it.”
“Faux, it's not just about you anymore. You have another life to think of now.”
“What good will that life be if the Bok come in here and take over? Neither my life nor the baby's will be worth anything once they find out whose child I carry.” An inner fire flashed in her black eyes. “I will fight and you will not stop me.”
Freeblood sighed. “Okay, okay. If you’re that determined, I won't try to stop you.” He reached out and stroked her arm. “But, please, go upstairs and rest for a little while. Conserve your energy.”
“You're right. I should lie down.” Catching his hand in hers, she sidled up close. “Don’t let me sleep through it. You come get me if it starts before I get up, okay?”
“I will.” He was relieved he was able to change her mind without a major meltdown. “In the meantime, I'm going to find Inferno and Linq.” After a long kiss, they parted, Faux walking toward the stairs and Freeblood heading to the back door. With one last look, he stepped out into the yard and closed the door.
Trusting her gut instincts, Arachnia broke away from the Ambassadors. Outside the kitchen, she eavesdropped on Faux and Freeblood. It all seemed innocent enough, but something about the woman still made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the wicked smirk on her lips. Or perhaps it was the words she murmured after the young man disappeared out the door.
“Don't worry, my darling Freeblood. I know what’s coming.”
Silently following Faux up the stairs, Arachnia hung back behind a corner of the landing and watched the young woman slowly move to each room, pressing an ear to the door, opening it to peek inside. After investigating the whole floor, she made a beeline to a blank wall. Arachnia thought the demon was touched in the head until a hidden door suddenly appeared. Watching Faux enter, she caught a glimpse of another set of stairs before it closed. Arachnia crept closer and carefully turned the handle. Locked.
“Schiss.”
A sudden explosion made the breath catch in her throat as she ducked down. I have to get in there. Arachnia let the saliva build up in her mouth, aimed at the lock, and spit. The metal sizzled, foamed, and soon disintegrated. The door swung open of its own accord.
She waited and listened, hearing only one voice. Her approach was cautious, just in case the girl had company. Coming to the burnt door, she peered around the edge. One wall was covered with shelves holding various sizes of bottles…some clear, some blue, red, or brown. She watched the demon girl bypass books on herbs, plants, and magical lore for a large mortar and pestle surrounded by ceramic bowls, utensils, and candles. Faux stopped and turned her head toward the far corner of the room.
“Hello, handsome. Glad you could make it.”
Arachnia followed her gaze. There was only an empty wooden chair. Definitely crazy. Terrific.
Faux carried the mortar and pestle to the large table in front of a dormer window, continuing her one-sided conversation. “No, but I can feel this is the room from where it generates. Do I actually need to have it in my hands to destroy it?” Arachnia looked at the corner again as Faux looked over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
She watched the demon girl lick her lips, turn from the table, and walk to the shelves. Faux shuffled through a stack of bowls until she found the right one, then grabbed a black candle from the same shelf. Setting the items on the table, she lit the candle and tipped it to drop melted wax into the bowl, then placed the candle into the soft wax.
“Water up to the top?” Faux looked up in dismay, spotting a small sink in another corner. She used a second bowl to transport the water to the table. “Okay, okay! Not to the wick. Got it.”
She closed her eyes, taking steady breaths. When she was ready, she lit the candle, whispering, “Visualize the power of the protection spell wrapped around the castle,” as if repeating directions from an unseen instructor. “I see it. I see the spell. It’s pink.” She nodded. “I feel its power. Okay. Draw it to me and the candle.”
She lifted a hand. “Wait. It's changing. The mist is turning into a wall.”
Faux jumped as if someone had yelled at her. “I am concentrating.”
Arachnia’s mind ached from the thoughts crashing about in her head. It was too bizarre to believe. Surely, Spirit wouldn’t entrust the casting of a protection spell to another, would she?
“It's turning to mist again,” Faux said. “I can see it swirling toward the window, coming to me and the candle.” The demon girl smiled. “The protection spell will be gone in no time.”
Arachnia leaned back against the wall of the small vestibule. She wasn’t casting a spell. She was reversing one. I can’t let this happen. She slinked into the herb room while, at the same time, transforming into her altered form - a black arachnid with a scorpion tail. As she moved closer to the swishing tail of the demon girl, she felt the spell weakening and, almost too late, saw the tail stiffen and take aim.
“I don’t know who you are, but you don’t look like the type with a death wish.” Faux didn’t turn around, her tail keeping watch, as though it had eyes of its own. “Come any closer and you’ll never see your Ambassadors again.”
“Stop what you’re doing, now, you fork-tailed freak,” Arachnia said, eyeing the tail that swayed like a cobra emerging from a dark basket.
Faux turned her head. “She’s nothing but a lame Alamir. I’ll take care of her.”
Arachnia
followed her gaze to the empty corner. “Don’t you see? This is pure evil you invite into this home.” She looked back in time to dodge a stab from the malicious tail. “The Bok'Na'Ra will destroy everything within its walls, including you.”
Faux turned, eyes flashing. “Are you scared of the nasty old Bok? Aww, don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.”
Arachnia made her move. Faux’s tail lashed out again as the scorpion-arachnid leaped through the air, landing between the demon and the burning candle. Faux’s body shimmered with flames. A fire blast rolled from her hand, catching Ara on her shoulder.
She grimaced, extinguishing the fire with a spray of venom. Ara’s eyes turned black as ink and white fangs elongated. “You're already dead, demon.” An extra set of arms extended from her mid-section, grabbing for Faux. She ignored the painful kisses of the flames and moved to drive her fangs into the demon girl’s neck, but her jaws ground into one another, her bite closing on empty air.
Faux spoke from across the room. “You have the nerve to call me a freak. When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” Something made her look at the corner, then at the black candle. “The mist is coming into the candle on its own. Once the water overtakes the flame, the spell will be dead.” She gave the scorpion-spider a scathing glare. “You’ll be dead.”
When Freeblood burst into the room, he saw Faux, cringing in the corner, then saw the scorpion-spider. Caught off-guard, he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Freeblood!” An animated Faux pointed to Arachnia. “This mutant cornered me in here. Hell only knows what she wants.”
Arachnia turned. “She's trying to destroy the protection spell around the castle. I can feel it weakening as we speak. Get the wizards. Only they can reinforce it.”
“She’s lying, baby!” Faux yelled. “I told you something was weird about her.”
Despite the creature’s appearance, he had the uncanny feeling she was Alamir. Why else would she be inside Laugharne? He sidestepped and held a hand out to Faux. “She does look pretty freaky. Why don’t we get out of here?”
“We can’t leave her here alone. I don’t trust her. Besides, I told Spirit I would straighten up for her. As soon as I’m done, I'll find you.” She gave Arachnia a venomous glare. “Take this thing with you.”
Spirit? He hadn’t seen the woman since they’d arrived. Scanning the room, he noticed the lit black candle in the bowl of water and thought it odd. He licked his lips and turned his gaze on Faux. “Eh, forget about her. There’s a couple things we need to discuss.” Something in Faux’s words and mannerisms didn’t ring true. He had to admit, the girl had been different since they left the German sector. “Come on. We can make fun of the Ambassadors in their silly robes.” Arachnia shot him a nasty look, but he ignored the accusing glare. There. He sensed it, like a fog around Faux’s heart and mind.
“You’re wasting time,” Arachnia yelled, launching into the air, intent on the demon girl.
“No!” Freeblood screamed.
At the same time, Faux lit up in a golden shimmer. Arachnia’s scorpion stinger bumped the table and sent its contents flying. The bowl hit the floor, splashing water across the boards, extinguishing the candle. Unseen by any in the room, the pink mist reversed direction and circled the castle once again.
Faux disappeared the moment Arachnia reached her. With nothing to slow her advance, she banged her head against the wall and slumped to the floor, the scorpion-spider façade disappearing. Freeblood pulled up fast to avoid sliding into the unconscious Alamir.
He kneeled next to her and checked her pulse. Thankfully, it was strong. “I don’t know who you are, but I believe you.” He raced downstairs. Whether Faux was successful or not, he hoped the wizards would be able to strengthen whatever remained of the spell to keep the Bok from entering the compound.
Linq was the first person he ran into and, he reasoned, was probably his best bet. “Linq, you have to get the War Wizards. They need to strengthen the protection spell around the castle.”
The elf raised a blond brow. “Has something happened?”
“No, no…” Calm down, man. “Just as a precaution.” Freeblood tried to slow his breathing and act nonchalant. How do I do this without incriminating Faux? “Uh, I’ve noticed a few weak spots.”
Linq crossed his arms. “I didn’t know you were magically inclined.”
Freeblood shrugged. “Funny thing about this Alamir stuff. You never know what’s gonna come along.”
“Spirit’s a strong mage. Her spell will hold. If you will excuse me, I have enough to do myself.” Linq continued on his way. “The wizards have enough to do.”
“No, Linq. It has to be the wizards,” he said to the elf’s back, sounding more desperate than intended.
The tone of his voice made the elf turn. “Why is that?”
“Well…” He sighed and decided to give it up. “The spell may not be as strong as it once was.” He had his full attention now.
“Did you tamper with it?” There was a hard edge to his voice.
Freeblood gave him an indignant look. “No, not me. Does it matter? Just get them to fix it.”
Linq crossed his arms again and leaned against the wall. “Not until you tell me why you think it’s been weakened.”
“Shit, man.” He pushed his hair back with both hands. “It was Faux. She was reversing the spell. That scorpion thing woman with the Ambassadors stopped her. Okay?”
Whether it was his words or his delivery, Freeblood had no idea, but the elf moved into action, grabbed him by the arm, and marched him to the front doors. “Where is Faux now?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find her.”
“Take her to her room and make sure she stays there.” Linq squeezed his arm to emphasize the importance of his advice. “If you can’t control her, the wizards will.”
“I'll take care of her.” Freeblood rushed off, while Linq headed toward the wizards’ quarters.
28
To Be a Black Blade
So kind of you to join us, Lady Etain and Master Taurnil.” Rana’s harsh tone and clipped words carried across the vast hall.
Taurnil started to explain, but Etain spoke over him. “It’s my fault, sir. Please don’t hold Taurnil responsible. He was helping me with…personal business.”
“Master Taurnil and Lady Etain, may I remind you that the training hall is the only ‘personal business’ you need be concerned with during the day. Save the rest for the evenings when it does not interfere with the Black Blades.” He looked down his nose at them. “Now, present your blades and let’s get to work.”
Etain opened her mouth to speak, but a slight shake of Taurnil’s head warned her to remain silent. With a huff, she spun on her heels and walked to the center of the room. Sword drawn, she posed in her fighting stance. Taurnil faced her, ready to do battle.
“Lady Etain!” Rana yelled from across the room. “Where is your black blade?”
She lowered her sword, giving the man a haughty glare. “Nim is my blade. I train with her alone.” Put in his place, she raised her sword to begin.
Rana paced across the floor. “The Black Blades go into battle with black blades. Nothing less will be tolerated.”
Again, she lowered her blade. “My Nim’Na’Sharr was handcrafted especially for my hand by the High Lord himself.”
“You will submit to the rules as set by the High Lord himself when he established this organization so many years ago.” His words were spoken with the greatest distinction. “They are in place for a reason.”
“With all due respect to the High Lord, the Black Blades, and the bloody rules, none of those blades in that closet…” She pointed her Nim toward the armory, “fit my hand. Should you wish me to continue to train, I suggest you let me use a sword that suits my style.”
“I am the Megiltura of the Black Blades and will not be questioned or spoken to in this way. You will submit.”
“I…will…not,” she challenged
through gritted teeth.
“Did you not agree yesterday, within these very walls, to be a Black Blade? To teach and be taught? If I have mistaken your intent, leave this place.” Rana was resolute. “Now.”
Etain impaled the Megiltura with an ice-blue glare. Other than the flare of her nostrils as she breathed, she did not move. Rana’s gaze remained cool and confident. The novice Blades lowered their weapons, looked at one another, and waited. It felt as though time had come to a standstill in the training hall.
In time, one pointed to the crystal sword at Etain’s side, bringing everyone’s attention to its changing color. The once clear crystal had turned black. Without breaking eye contact with the Megiltura, she presented the blade and cocked a brow.
He continued to hold her arrogant stare without so much as a glance at the blade held before her. “Is this how you intend to enter battle? With your mind and matter split? Is it the best way to make use of your energies?” Rana stepped into her face. “How dare you show such disregard not only to your partner but to the hundreds, no…” He lifted a finger to emphasize the importance of his words, “thousands of men and women who have proudly given their lives as Black Blades for more years than you could possibly comprehend. A blade is either black or it is not. If you do not wish to train with a black blade, your time in this hall has come to an end.”
Her left eye twitched. She ground her teeth, wishing she had the power to cast a hex on this infuriating man. No matter how angry she felt, though, she had to accept the truth in his words. She shoved Nim into her scabbard, straightened her shoulders, and strode across the immense hall toward the armory at the other end.
Metal clashed, weapons crashed, and strange mutterings carried out from the armory. The novice Blades exchanged glances but avoided eye contact with the Megiltura. A sudden quiet fell over the training hall.