Cornucopia

by Debra Dunbar

  We followed Glitter through the maze of shelves to the back wall of the room where a series of glass cabinets held gilt-edged books. The greed demon, his eyes glowing, read the labels on the cases, then waving me back, he slammed his fist into the glass.

  Nothing happened except Glitter’s fist bouncing back and nearly hitting me. The demon looked around then picked up a statute, wielding it like a baseball bat. It was a really beautiful statue of a dancing woman. I hissed “no” and put my palm on the case to keep him from smashing the statue against it.

  The glass vanished leaving books and scrolls open on their shelves.

  “Wow. Look at that, Miss Amber. Guess you’re elf enough for the wards.”

  Glitter grunted something, then stuck the statue in his bag and ran off, leaving me to assume that the maps I wanted were in this case.

  I reached in, holding my breath in case my hand blew off or the scrolls turned into scorpions and bit me, but nothing happened. They were just scrolls, maps. Yes, they might be beautiful works of art, but compared to other items in the archives they probably weren’t of great value.

  My fingers closed around them, feeling the heavy dry parchment, the silk ribbons that bound them closed, the crisp feel of them in my hands. With great care I placed them in my bag – every last one of them since we didn’t have time for me to sort through them and figure out the correct one, even if I could read Elvish. Then on impulse I took the book that was in the case on a shelf above the scrolls. It would have smashed the scrolls in my bag, so I kept it in my arms clutched against my chest.

  Alarms sounded, lights flashed. I looked down at the book, then at the empty case in confusion, wondering why we’d set off the wards now and not when I’d grabbed the scrolls or opened the case. Maybe the demons had tripped the alarm with their careless looting.

  I looked around to see Glitter and Snake heading toward the entrance. Glitter was stuffing items into sacks along the way, while Snake was knocking over shelves, kicking the books into the air as he laughed.

  “Not the books,” I shrieked, trying to be heard over the alarms. Snake turned to look at me, then with his eyes fixed on mine he pushed a shelf over with his shoulder. I watched in horror as dozens of books fell, spines dented, pages crumpled and torn. The shelf landed on top of them, crushing the books underneath. Picking up one, he ripped it in half, tossing the pages about like confetti.

  I handed the bag with the scrolls and the book to Rutter and stomped toward the greed demon. I should have been worried about the maps, about ensuring we got safely out of here and on our way back to Libertytown, but all I could see was the damaged books scattered on the floor, Snake’s sneering face as he picked up another one and ripped it in half.

  I lost it. Grabbing a nearby statue, I ran over and waved it at Snake. “Steal all you want, but don’t trash the place. And don’t tear up the books, you stupid fucking oaf. Don’t damage the books. Get out. Get out now.”

  Snake snarled, rising to his full height. Then he grabbed the statue and twisted it out of my hands. “Get out. Now,” he mocked me in badly accented English. Then he hit me across the head with the statue. I staggered to the side, feeling blood running down the side of my face and into my eyes.

  “Miss Amber!” Rutter shouted.

  My hands went up to guard against a second blow and I felt myself blasted with a shot of energy that threw me backward into a bookshelf, blackening my shoulder. Books fell, one particularly heavy one hitting me on the head.

  Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. I heard Rutter’s scream as Snake picked him up and threw him into a display. Through a red haze of blood, I saw the glass splinter as Rutter crashed through the case. I saw Glitter racing for the door. I saw Snake coming toward me with the statue raised to strike. I saw the torn pages on the ground, filled with beautiful calligraphy in a language I couldn’t read.

  I got pissed. More than pissed. I reached out my hand toward the greed demon, curling my fingers into a fist and then letting them fly open.

  The demon’s serpentine face froze mid laugh. His feet elongated, toes multiplying and tearing through the inlay of the floor. His legs fused together, scales melding into a hard pattern of grooves and notches. His torso stretched, arms extending outward as they twisted and turned. The last to change was his face, open mouth gnarled into a knot on the trunk of a misshapen, barren tree.

  Rutter scrambled to his feet, staring at Snake in shocked amazement. I pulled my hand back and looked at my palm. I’d just turned a demon into a tree. It wasn’t a particularly pretty tree, but then again Snake hadn’t been a particularly pretty demon.

  I’d gotten angry and turned a demon into a tree. At that moment I vowed that if I ever saw Pele again, I’d never give her shit for doing the exact same thing to the men who’d spurned her centuries ago.

  Wow. I was no different than Pele. I was no different than a vengeful, capricious goddess.

  “Miss Amber! Oh, Miss Amber, are you okay?” Rutter knelt down next to me, his hand touching the side of my head, then the horrific burn on my shoulder. Was I okay? Shouldn’t he be asking if Snake was okay? Had I killed the demon? Was there a way to turn him back or would he spend the rest of his life as a tree? Where was Pele when I needed answers to these questions?

  I was an elf. Normally I could heal myself, but when I tried all that happened was I stopped bleeding, and the terrible burn on my shoulder became a mess of blistered, angry red flesh. I was exhausted, drained. Evidently turning a demon into a tree had completely tapped me out.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. I still hurt, my head throbbing, my shoulder feeling as if it were on fire. That was the least of my worries right now. “Are you okay? He threw you into that glass case.”

  Rutter nodded. I examined him carefully and saw only superficial cuts. Relief flooded me. I wasn’t sure Lows could easily heal themselves, and I certainly couldn’t help him beyond basic first aid at this point.

  “Miss Amber, you were amazing. I had no idea you could do something like that.” Rutter turned to admire the tree.

  I had no idea I could do something like that either, and I wasn’t sure what the repercussions would be. “I shouldn’t have done…that. Will I go to demon jail? Am I going to owe a blood-price to his household?”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t, and somehow I don’t think the other demon is going to say anything either.” Rutter walked over and spat on the tree. “Good riddance. He was going to kill you, Miss Amber. If you hadn’t turned him into a tree, he would have killed you. Do you know what he said about you? That you were weak, that beyond a decent elf-form you were worthless and only good for fucking. He was wrong. You’re scary-strong. Nobody should mess with you.”

  Evidently not, or they get turned into a tree. The Low’s words did make me feel better about what I’d done to Snake, and his admiration was very flattering. Still…a tree. Would he ever turn back into a demon? Would he be a tree forever?

  In spite of my shock over what I’d done, we still needed to get out of here, so I leaned on the fallen bookshelf and got to my feet, grabbing the book and bag of scrolls from where Rutter had tossed them. I turned around to speak to the Low and saw him fall, an arrow sticking out of his leg. A bundle of rope hit him and shot out into a net, surrounding Rutter and pinning him to the floor. Looking around I saw half a dozen elves, bows at the ready, arrows notched and pointed at me.

  I put up my hands unsure what to do. It was pretty incriminating that I was holding a book and a bag of scrolls. Actually it was pretty incriminating that we were in the archives at all. The elves stared at me in shocked silence, then began to whisper amongst themselves. They still had projectiles pointed at me, so I kept my hands up. The whole time I tried to come up with a good way to get out of this situation. I couldn’t run for it and leave Rutter behind, but I was pretty sure if I knelt down to get him out of the net, I’d get shot. Could I heal from whatever was in those elven arrows? Probably not, even if I were at full
strength. With no other option, I just stood motionless, holding a book and a bag up in the air. Maybe I could turn them all into trees?

  One of the elves put down his bow then walked closer to me and asked me a question. I had no idea what he’d said and my interpreter was inside a net and shot with an arrow. The elf repeated his question and I lowered my hands to point down at Rutter.

  The elf shook his head, then motioned toward the tree smack in the middle of the archives. I motioned toward the tree, made little devil horns on top of my head, then pointed at myself.

  The elf’s eyes about left his head. Again I waved a hand toward Rutter, pointed at my open mouth, then made talky motions with my fingers. He stepped back a few paces and motioned for me to remove the net. The other archers took aim, and I was well aware that one wrong move from Rutter and they’d turn him into a pincushion.

  Slowly I peeled the net back. “Don’t move,” I told him.

  “I can’t, Miss Amber.” He grimaced. “They shot me in the leg. It will be paralyzed for a few hours. I’m sorry, I’m not going to be able to run. If you get a break, go.”

  “I don’t need you to run for it, and I’m not leaving you. I need you to be an interpreter.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his snout wiggling.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “They haven’t shot me yet. I think they don’t know what’s going on. I look like an elf, but I can’t communicate with them. They’re reluctant to shoot me, or even arrest me. If you translate exactly what I tell you, I think I can talk us out of this.”

  Rutter scooted clear of the net, dragging his one leg behind him. The arrow stuck out of his furry thigh and I resisted an urge to pull it out.

  “I’m ready to translate, Miss Amber,” he told me.

  “I am Amber Shania Lowrey and I have returned to Hel so that I can retrieve some of our archives to preserve our heritage in the new world.”

  The Low translated, and the non-bow wielding elf stepped forward once more.

  “He wants to know why you can’t speak or understand Elvish. You are clearly a High Elf, royalty if you were the one who transformed a demon into a tree. What has happened to you that you have lost your language?”

  Time to lie like…well, like a demon. “I must be honest with you, the new world is not as we expected. The humans there are powerful, and our magic is not reliable on the other side of the gates. They have metal boxes of death that race at us faster than the quickest horse and flatten us like a boulder. They have metal and wood sticks that shoot spelled projectiles, and we are unable to heal from the injuries they cause. We thought we would rule, yet we find we are barely able to survive.” I clutched my throat dramatically. “One of the sorcerers stole my knowledge of Elvish, leaving me to communicate only with this inferior human language. Thank the Goddess I escaped with my life.”

  Bows hit the floor as the elves clapped their hands against mouths and cheeks, wailing in sympathy. I soaked it in, as if I were a martyr.

  “I cannot return to live here at this time. Not when so many of my people suffer under the cruel hands of the humans. I came back to retrieve our stories in hopes that the past might give us guidance on how to prevail. When I arrived with my demon interpreter, I found several greed demons stealing treasures and destroying the archives. One escaped, but one I caught and punished.” I pointed dramatically to the tree.

  They stared, open mouthed. Then they looked at the tree.

  One spoke, and Rutter turned to me. “He wants to know why don’t the high lords return? The elves need you here. They need the High Elves. They need their family. They beg the elves to return to Hel and leave the humans to their horrid land.”

  I smiled sadly. “I cannot abandon my people. The humans have imprisoned many of them, and the angels have turned against us. One day, we will return, but not until we all can return.”

  “They want to know what they can do to help.” The elves were aghast at my speech, wringing their hands. I felt as if I were a lead in a Greek tragedy.

  “Maintain the archives. Wait for us. We will return.”

  I had no idea if the elves would return, but it sounded better than ‘see ya, have a great day.’

  The leader of the group nodded.

  “He sees that you have the ceremonial rites and records tome. Do you also want the history of the elven migration to Hel? That along with prayer might give you insight.”

  Shit. Would this guy believe me if I told him that the human sorcerer had also taken away my ability to read Elvish? Luckily I didn’t have to bluff that one because the guard led me to a glass case with a huge, ancient book inside. He stood aside, obviously waiting for me to do something.

  As before I put my palm on the glass and nearly passed out with relief when it vanished. I reached for the book, but found my hand stopped by an invisible force field.

  The elf said something in hushed tones.

  “Only royalty can take the book,” Rutter told me. “It’s a blood lock.”

  My heart fell. They thought I was a High Elf, that I was royalty. If I couldn’t get the book, would they imprison me? Would they kill Rutter?

  “Wasn’t your mother cousin to the High Lord, Miss Amber?” Rutter asked. “Try to use your blood, and hope it actually works.”

  I bent down to pick up a piece of glass and holding my breath, I jabbed my index finger. A red drop welled. If this didn’t work, we’d run for it. I’d grab the bag of scrolls, half drag Rutter, then try to lightning bolt as many elves as I could. And we’d run.

  Here we go. I extended my hand toward the book and tried to keep from trembling as I reached the point where the force field had stopped me before. The drop of blood sizzled. A cube surrounding the book glowed gold. My hand passed through. Careful not to get my blood on the book, I took it and brought it into my arms. The thing was heavy – far more heavy than the one clutched in my other arm. I didn’t like the idea of carrying both of these all the way to Libertytown, but this was my cover.

  As soon as the book was in my arms, the elves knelt, bows and arrows on the ground. Rutter crawled over toward me, touching the hem of my dress. “Can we leave now? Before they figure out what the other half of you is?”

  Maybe. We still weren’t out of here. “Are they going to expect me to teleport away? Will they believe I’m some sort of royalty if we stroll out of here and into the woods – me carrying two heavy books and you dragging a numb leg?”

  Rutter grabbed the edge of a bookshelf and pulled himself upright, his left leg dangling from his hip. “I’m going to tell them that you need a moment to pray, to experience once more the beloved land you foolishly left behind, to promise the Goddess that you have renewed your commitment to create a paradise for your people whether here or in the new world.”

  “You’re good,” I told him. Damn, for a Low the demon sure could think on his feet.

  Rutter relayed the speech. The elves nodded, two of them coming forward to support the demon’s weight on their shoulders. Taking a deep breath and lifting my head, I picked up the bag of scrolls in one hand, shifting the weight of the two books in the other, then walked in my most regal air from the room, down the hallway and this time out the front door.

  Chapter 11

  In the morning every muscle ached. Rutter and Kirby were surrounded by scrolls when I came down, hot beverages and the remains of breakfast nearby.

  “Please tell me you didn’t get porridge all over the scrolls,” I scolded, placing my bag on the floor.

  Rutter grinned up at me. “Did you sleep well, Miss Amber? Is your shoulder and head healed?”

  No. For that I’d need to have sex, but right now I had more pressing matters than my injuries or my lack of energy to attend to. “I’m fine. I want to hear about the scrolls. What do they say?” I went to peer over Kirby’s shoulder even though I couldn’t read a thing. They were beautiful, with creamy parchment, inky black script, and colored symbols and drawings all along the edges. They reminded me of the mediev
al illustrated manuscripts I’d seen in the museums.

  “I found the one with the locations and depths of the ground water and springs. We’ll drill this afternoon and should have irrigation water by tonight. I’m thinking we should consider a secondary well for drinking water in case the one we have now goes dry.”

  That was amazing news. “How about the others?”

  “Ley lines and results from a geological survey, but check this one out.” He shoved a parchment under my nose.

  “Groundhogs in space with parsley?” I guessed, eyeing the drawings.

  He snorted. “They’re incantations for keeping animals away from certain plants. I think they used it not just in gardens, but in sections of the forest, such as holy spaces, where they didn’t want rodents eating up all the sorrel.”

  “That might come in handy. Do you have the proper ingredients? Is that a spell you could cast?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a spell, it’s a ceremony that the elves perform. It requires the magic they carry within them. Ours is compatible, but not quite the same. That’s why the elves kidnapped us and made us slaves. We could do magic they couldn’t, but they can do quite a lot that is completely out of our reach.”

  “Well, I’m an elf and I clearly can do elf-magic sorts of things. I wonder if I could perform the ritual?” I leaned closer Kirby’s shoulder to look at the scroll, which still appeared an artistic pattern of undecipherable script.”

  “You don’t know Elvish. I could translate for you, but I’m not sure if these have to be in their language or not. And I don’t know if you speaking the words would help if you didn’t truly understand them. I’m thinking there has to be something beyond just this ceremony, something that gets passed down from high elf to high elf.” He rolled up the scroll and set it aside. “I’ve never seen any of these performed. They were sacred ceremonies, not meant for human eyes. I’m not even sure the other elves were able to witness them either. High elves are very secretive about their magic.”