The Emerald Dragon (The Lost Ancients Book 3)

by Marie Andreas

  “How did you know where I was?”

  Garbage scowled and stomped around on my chest some more. “You tell me in head. Bad place. Not good.”

  Light trickled in through a gap in the curtains, but it wasn’t a full bright sunlight. It had felt like I had been asleep for days, but clearly it was earlier than I usually woke up on a weekend.

  It took me three tries to fall out of bed, and every part of my body felt like it had been beaten by a gang of thugs with sticks. I looked down where Garbage was now stomping around my pillow. “Did you beat me up?”

  “No, I try to wake you up. Face only.”

  I lifted my shirt, but where it felt like I should have massive black and purple bruises, my skin was surprisingly unmarked.

  “Is Alric back?” It had taken a few minutes to mentally catch up with the final events of last night, but Garbage looked more mad than sad, so I figured that must be a good thing.

  The door popped open before Garbage could respond. “Ah, you’re awake?” Harlan peered in further and noticed Garbage. “I told her to leave you alone.”

  I shivered as I thought of the scary place I’d found myself in. “Actually, I’m glad she woke me up.” At Harlan’s raised eyebrow, I added, “Nightmares.”

  “I see. By the way, your nose is bleeding.”

  I put my hand up and sure enough it came back with blood. Harlan gave me a concerned look, but then handed me a handkerchief without question.

  Covey was hunched over a mug of coffee in the kitchen, and two more half-empty mugs of tea told me someone else had been with her. Most likely, Alric. Who was gone again.

  “You’re bleeding.” Covey was far more of a morning person than I was, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her right now. Her eyes were haggard and half-open and she clutched her cup of coffee as if it was a lifeline.

  I held the cloth back up to my nose and took a seat. “Where’s Alric?” Might as well cut to the chase.

  “He’s gone back out. He found where the girls were grabbed, but hasn’t found them. She seems better though.” She nodded to Garbage who had followed us out of the bedroom and was sticking her head in Alric’s abandoned teacup. I’d never seen any of them drink anything with caffeine, and wasn’t sure it was a good idea to start. However, it was good not to see her as heartbroken as she had been.

  “Garbage? Sweetie? How are you doing?” I removed the cloth from my nose; whatever caused the bleeding seemed to have finally stopped. Probably one of Garbage’s slaps hit with a bit too much force. The faeries were far stronger than they looked.

  Garbage looked up at me, happily licking dribbles of tea off her lips. “Is better. They okay. Tell me.”

  Harlan and Covey looked surprised at that so I gathered she hadn’t made this known earlier.

  “How did they tell you? Can you find out where they are?” I felt better that she wasn’t so upset, but I still was worried they could be in danger. The faeries were almost indestructible and sometimes they forgot they weren’t.

  “In head. High thing rustled the peoples. They dropped things. I hear them.” Her scowl came back. “They still be hidden.” She seemed satisfied and dipped herself back into the teacup.

  I looked to the other two, but they both looked as lost as me. High thing was most likely Alric; the girls had an ongoing refusal to call people by their names. “What did Alric do last night? And where is he now?”

  Harlan got up and poured me some tea. “He came back briefly about an hour ago. He said that more was going on at the cliffs than we thought, grabbed the bag he had left, and took off again.”

  “Damn it. I should have known. Whatever he took from Qianru was most likely in that bag. Plus whatever scrolls he borrowed from you.” Last night I figured I couldn’t get into the bag; this morning I was more optimistic. I wanted a crack at it. Whatever he stole he needed to return to Qianru, but not before I saw what it was and why he took it. I wouldn’t have stolen anything from her, but since the deed was already done, might as well get some answers.

  Covey finished off her coffee, then poured herself another before speaking. “I can’t say what he took from your patroness, he had a lot of things in there. It’s magically enhanced, by the way.” She waved her hand at me and I noticed two of her fingers had bandages. Obviously not only was it enhanced, that bag was armed.

  She reached under the table and pulled out a scroll. “But it wasn’t fast enough to stop me. I spent a few hours making a dummy that should fool him for a bit.” She looked down at the original scroll with a smile.

  Good to know we were back to her not trusting Alric.

  I wandered over to the larder and pulled out some nuts and seeds. I’d found in my time at Covey’s place they were the safest breakfast option. “So do we know why he was looking at that one? Oh, did he tell you some jerks tried to rob us last night? Just a few houses down the street from here.”

  “Alric mentioned it. He said it had to do with your collapse?” Harlan’s words indicated he knew what caused the collapse, but as usual he hoped for more details from me.

  “Guess so, he’d be the one who knew.”

  Covey finished her coffee, and then nodded. “I’ve heard talk around the university about more robberies. Word of the recent high-end magical artifacts have reached the criminal element.”

  That made me feel a bit better. Run-of-the-mill thieves were one thing; magical beasties after us was something I wanted to be done with. “That explains a bit. They didn’t recognize Alric, even when he showed his ears.” Another thought struck me. “Did either of you see his sword on him? Either when we came in or when he came back?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “I haven’t seen that blade in months. I was afraid to ask since I thought maybe it was taken when he lost his magic.” Harlan shook his head in regret at not asking. He always regretted not asking things, which was why it rarely happened.

  I simply nodded, but didn’t elaborate. There was something about our fair-haired elven lad and his sword. Something he wasn’t telling us.

  We had enough other problems going around. We didn’t need one about a disappearing and reappearing sword. I shook my head, sipped some more tea, and tried to focus.

  “Did you guys find out anything from the sceanra anam’s body?” I tried to sound innocent, but I had wanted the girls to bug Harlan as well. However, we did need to know why they were back.

  Harlan scowled; he knew what I’d done with sending the girls to him and Alric. “Not really. There weren’t enough parts. We left it in her office.”

  That perked Covey right up. Unfortunately, she perked right up into Harlan’s face. Unfortunate for him anyway. I was safely on the other side of the table.

  “You left a sceanra anam in my office? Are you daft?” She darted to the hook where she kept her coat.

  Harlan cleaned up his tea where he’d spilled it when she jumped at him. “It was a few piles of what looks like ash. And, I assure you, it was locked up in one of your specimen jars.” He switched his glare to me, as Covey replaced her coat on the hook and resumed her seat. “What we did get was a long, detailed, and useless explanation of where out-out-out was.”

  I hid my smirk behind my tea and briefly told Covey about the sceanra anam and the girls’ dispatching of it. She was more annoyed about Harlan and Alric leaving the thing in her office than she was about the fact there had been a live one flying around the city after months of no sign.

  “So where was out-out-out?”

  Still scowling, Harlan mollified himself with a piece of bread and jam. He took his time responding. “Near as Alric gathered, over the plains somewhere. There’s no life down there, but maybe in the air above it?”

  No one knew what caused Forgotten Plains, or why there was no life to be found anywhere within them. And only idiots tried to cross them.

  Idiots and flying nightmares.

  Ones that I couldn’t deal with right now, but we’d have to look into once we got
the faeries back.

  Yesterday had been a long, weird, not-good day and it was taking a while for my brain to sort things. “Do we think everything is connected?”

  Both of them looked up at that.

  “How can we not? I’m afraid the glass gargoyle started a chain of actions that we’re only seeing a small part of so far.” Covey unrolled the scroll she’d recovered from Alric. “I know Alric is an asset, and in some regards a friend.” The look she shot me told me she knew more than that. “But we can’t completely trust him. He’s still focused on the good of his people at any cost. If what we want dovetails with that, great. If not?”

  I nodded. There had been a time recently where I thought that was changing, but yesterday slammed that back into my face.

  Harlan hovered over the scroll. At first his expression had been curious, then pensive, then annoyed. “This is covering the Spheres. Where did you get it?” The tone of his voice made me realize his annoyance was at Covey, not Alric.

  I glanced down, but I still couldn’t read much elven. I seemed to be better with Ancient, but still not as good as Alric. The Spheres were some gigantic ruins to the far south, a trip that required a long detour to go around the Forbidden Plains. Six huge spheres in a circle, each one easily a hundred-feet tall, made of six-foot-high rounded blocks. No exact age given to them as far as I knew—but they were rumored to be thousands of years old.

  Before Covey could answer, the slightly rocking teacup on the table exploded.

  Garbage Blossom had flown out of it with such force, that the entire cup split into a dozen pieces on its way up in the air, then rained down like some twisted porcelain storm on the table.

  Garbage was nowhere to be seen.

  Then an orange streak flew back into the kitchen, never mind that none of us had seen her go out. She slowed down long enough to drop an enormous amount of berries on the table, chitter something so fast that all I heard was a whine, and then shot back outside again.

  Leaving the three of us to look at the berries, the shattered teacup, and the new hole in Covey’s window in shock.

  Harlan recovered first. “She said, ‘Here’s breakfast. Let me get meat for the cat.’” The wrinkle of his nose told me his opinion of being called a cat.

  “What did she do?” Covey didn’t seem upset about the teacup at all—knowing her, she wasn’t letting any of us use her good stuff—but the hole in the kitchen window was impressive. Covey’s window had a perfect faery-sized circle in it. No shattering, breaking, or cracks. Just a circle. One that would have fit Garbage well enough but not the pound or so of wild berries she brought in with her.

  Before I could move, the orange blur raced back in with a live crow and flung it at the table.

  Covey yelled. Harlan stumbled back out of his chair as the stunned, and very much alive, bird fluttered about trying to figure out what happened. Garbage vanished again.

  I ran to the front room and opened the door. Hopefully the poor bird could figure out which way to go.

  Actually, the way it was trying to stay clear of both Covey and Harlan, who clearly looked far too predatory for its liking, I think it was willing to try and get out.

  With a flutter of black feathers and a loud, indignant caw, the crow fled past me.

  I shut the door and ran back to the kitchen. Either Garbage had been spelled, or it was the tea. I’d never seen her like this, but to be honest, I was more shocked at her trying to feed us and be helpful than her speed.

  Garbage never helped anyone.

  “Harlan, do you have any more chocolate?” A new substance to Beccia, the girls and I both loved it. I’ve found it helped to get them to sleep when they were too wired. Maybe it could get Garbage off her caffeine high before she destroyed Covey’s house.

  Harlan nodded and went down the hall where his coat was.

  “Do you know what she said this time?” I yelled down at him. I’d heard her buzz again, but again it was too fast and too high for my hearing.

  Covey locked up all of her breakables by the time Harlan came back to the kitchen. She’d also tried to block the hole in her window with a pot. “Aye, she said ‘this time would be a prize’. I’m assuming she meant surprise, but she spoke very fast.” He broke off a large piece of chocolate and carefully sat it in the middle of the table. That much could knock out a dozen faeries. Which, considering what Garbage was doing now was probably the right amount.

  A series of large thumps came from the wall around Covey’s kitchen, then over the top of the roof, then slammed through the front door.

  At least Covey didn’t have to worry about the kitchen window any more. Of course there was now a hole in the door.

  And a still-bouncy Garbage zipping around with something in a bag that logically could not have fit through that hole.

  The bag squirmed, but I couldn’t tell if it was an animal, or if Garbage had tracked down a wayward cherub.

  She flew in a circle and dumped out the bag.

  A pissed-off brownie faced us all. Large for one of his ilk, and they were rare this far south, preferring the colder northern climates. But we had two and a half feet of angry, beard-jutting, pointed-hat-wearing brownie looking like he was already planning what part he would cut off first from each one of us.

  Before he could act though, Garbage darted forward, grabbed something from him, managing to stay clear of some fast moving hands on his part, and came to the kitchen and dropped a rock on Covey’s table.

  She also noticed the chocolate for the first time and swooped down to get it.

  “No!” I grabbed the bag the brownie came in and ran for the kitchen. “Don’t let her eat that! She needs to take that thing back first!”

  I was too late.

  Chapter Twelve

  Garbage spun in a winding circle like a wobbling flying top with chocolate all over her face. She’d only been about a foot over the table, which was good, because when she crashed, she crashed hard.

  She landed next to the rock she’d brought in, and I admired her ability to focus on it with the tea and chocolate battling for control of her head.

  “Is good,” she said as she doubled over in laughter—at what I had no idea—then leaned her entire body into the rock to push it my way. The tea must have previously helped with her strength, since she’d had no trouble stealing the rock from the brownie. Or stealing the brownie.

  The brownie in question leaned around a lot, but couldn’t seem to move from where Garbage put him. The faeries had some limited spell tricks they could use, and I had a feeling Garbage had trapped him where he stood. Probably a good thing given the words he muttered just loud enough for us to hear. Whoever said wee folks were happy, helpful folks never met one.

  I grabbed the rock before Harlan could. Covey guarded her scroll and glared at the brownie. It might be best for his safety as well if he couldn’t break free of whatever Garbage Blossom had put him under.

  The rock I snatched out of Harlan’s paw took both hands to hold. It was also very old, and while the edges around it were still rougher than say a stone worn down by water or ice for a few thousand years, they were still timeworn.

  I flipped it over and started swearing almost as loudly as our little friend in the front room.

  Another emerald dragon.

  However, this one looked different from the other two. Like them, the image had been magically pushed into the stone about half an inch. But the image was larger and far more detailed. As if the others we saw were imitations of this one, but no one was around to make one this fancy any more.

  I looked back at the brownie.

  He was quite a bit smaller than what I’d thought the cult members would be. And while rumored to be vicious in a pack, brownies didn’t have jagged pointed teeth or anything else attributed to the rakasa.

  The digger in me wanted to keep things academic, but the rest of my mind screamed that this was a relic from long before the Breaking. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it showed up at
the same time we thought a long-dead cult had resurrected itself.

  The brownie pulled at his feet when I turned to him, but his shoes must have been spelled. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t get his feet out of them.

  “Do you want to explain this?” I waved the stone at him, and then I hooked a thumb over at Harlan and Covey. “Or do I let these two big, bad predators remind themselves brownies were prey?” I was pushing it. Covey was fierce when the mood hit her, but Harlan was more a fluffy lap cat than predator. I doubted the chatalings ever hunted anything larger than a mouse. And brownies were too ornery to be prey for most species, not to mention the whole living in the frozen north bit. But hopefully the two of them were behind me looking fierce.

  “You can’t make me talk! I demand to be let free! I demand…keep it away from me!” The brownie almost broke both legs trying to pull backwards to get away from something behind me coming out of the kitchen.

  I’d expected Covey to be stalking along behind me, but was surprised when a wobbly Garbage came out walking on the ground. Chocolate was not just smeared on her face, but it appeared she’d rolled in it.

  I turned back to the brownie. I had no idea the little things were that bendable. Trained contortionists wouldn’t be able to bend like that. “Keep it away!” he yelled.

  “You’re afraid of a tiny faery?”

  “It’s the collector of souls! It has the souls of the dead on its face!”

  I looked back and shared a look with Harlan who simply shrugged. Not only was this new chocolate stuff tasty, and calming to the faeries, it also collected souls. Good to know.

  Garbage stumbled a few more steps forward, then collapsed and sat cross-legged on the carpet about a foot away from the brownie. “You tell nice lady what she wanna know.”

  I was now nice lady? Clearly, whatever effect the tea had on her personality it was still messing with it.

  She gave a huge yawn and stretched. “You tell her now….” And she tumbled over asleep.