Sword and Sorceress 30

by Waters, Elisabeth

  Polaris arched his back in Goulet’s arms. “And why,” the cat asked, “have you brought something like that with you?”

  “Ummm,” Crocker said from above and behind Cluny, but she was focused on the barghest, the shadow dog turning and taking a deep whiff of the air in Goulet’s direction.

  “Ah.” The creature gave Cluny a toothy, sideways grin. “You’ll pardon me, but my target’s arrived.”

  He took one step along the pathway toward Goulet, and everything around and within Cluny seemed to click, the power of both her familiars leaping out of whatever shock had held them frozen and sliding like invisible gauntlets over her front paws. She didn’t even have to shout instructions, her sudden plan bursting from her like a wave that washed over Crocker and Shtasith and set them into motion.

  “Goulet!” Crocker shouted, flaring his fingers to thrust a nearly invisible force screen across the lawn between the barghest and Goulet’s front door. “Get back inside! Quick!”

  Shtasith meanwhile had sprung straight up from Crocker’s shoulders, was arching through the blue October sky to a spot Cluny’s quick calculations were telling her was the best location for him. She was also tweaking Crocker’s spell, her claws and whiskers flashing to bend the force screen into the proper shape while altering its aetheric properties. Then Shtasith was dropping into place just in front of Goulet, the little dragon rearing back his head and blasting a gout of flame exactly along the correct path.

  The fire and heat lashed against the force screen, but the shield, with Cluny’s modifications, took the blast in, amplified it, and focused it into a concentrated beam that fired all blistering and blinding white from the shield’s focal point straight at the barghest. The impact shattered the creature’s shadowy substance into smoke, scattering on the dry wind that now crackled against Cluny’s whiskers, and the howl as the barghest vaporized made her ears fold tight against her head.

  They were creatures of cold and dark, after all...

  Crocker’s hands, extended toward the force screen, were shaking, and Cluny couldn’t help noticing that her panting breath wasn’t all that steady, either. “OK,” she began, but Shtasith’s bugling cry cut her off.

  “Beware!” From his spot hovering just above Goulet, the young man still holding his cat and standing open mouthed in the doorway, Shtasith crooked a claw at the empty lawn. “The beast is reforming!”

  Cluny’s throat went dry; sure enough, the ash swirling above the spot where she’d last seen the barghest was slowing, dropping, settling, and resolidifying into the same vaguely canine shape. He shook himself, the shadows of his pointed ears flapping, then he turned deliberately, those eyes more like pools of burning blood now. “Very well, tree rat,” he growled. “Since you insist, I’ll do you and yours first.” And he leaped, his teeth sharp as icicles in his gaping jaws.

  Whether the squeak Cluny heard then came from her or from Crocker, she never knew, but she felt both their powers flex, his flailing to cast the short-range teleport spell she’d put together for him, and hers letting fly with the volley of offensive spells she’d set up earlier.

  As usual, Crocker’s spell ended up spinning them around before it spit them out with a shower of sparks a couple yards away. But Cluny’s various bits of stabbing and slashing magic did even less, the shadow of the barghest’s substance just slipping away on either side of her metaphorical claws. And when the creature spun in the empty spot where Cluny and Crocker had been standing and leaped again—

  “Inside!” Cluny shouted, flaring her own transport spell to land them on Goulet’s front stoop. Shtasith grabbed the top of Crocker’s head, Crocker turned and shoved Goulet through the doorway, and Cluny flared her whiskers to slam the door closed behind the whole group of them while stretching Crocker’s force shield to envelop the entire house.

  A howl curdled the air outside, and blows began hammering against the shield, Cluny unable to keep from wincing as the barghest slammed himself over and over into her magic.

  “What is all this?” Goulet demanded, picking himself up from the carpet of the little entryway. “Why can’t you people just leave me alone??”

  Crocker gave a choked sort of a laugh from where he stood with his back braced against the front door. “You wanna field that one, Cluny?”

  “I didn’t—!” The battering was making the whole house shake now, Cluny digging her claws into the cloth of Crocker’s robe and forcing her eyes to stay open so she could look at Goulet. “This wasn’t s’pposed to happen! I was just talking to Tzu Yin about how we could get you back into Huxley, and—!”

  “What?” The horrified look on Goulet’s face almost matched the look she’d seen from Eubie back in the library, and Polaris, on the floor at Goulet’s feet, arched his back with a hiss this time. “That awful place nearly drove me insane! Why would I ever want to return?”

  The crashing outside froze, but Cluny barely noticed, her mind for the third or fourth time today just sputtering at what she was seeing and hearing. “How can you say that?” she shouted. “It’s Huxley! You’ve got to go there if you want to be a wizard!”

  “But I don’t want to be a wizard!” Goulet practically spat the words. “They’re puffed-up, simple-minded, elitist bullies, and trying to be one twisted me up so much, I came that close—” He held up a shaking thumb and forefinger, barely any space separating them. “—that close to becoming a mass murderer! So, no! I’m done with Huxley!”

  Cluny could only stare as Goulet closed his eyes, squatted down, and picked Polaris up again. “Besides,” he went on in the sudden quiet, everything about him much calmer, “the sparks I manifested the other day were most likely the precursor symptoms of Aura Ghosting, and I’m not willing to expose Polaris to the risk by attempting wizard magic again.” He stood and opened his eyes, tears shimmering there. “So we’re going out west. I’ve an aunt living in Dulserran Bay who’s a hedge witch.” He pressed his face into Polaris’s back, the cat rubbing his cheek against Goulet’s. “She’s agreed to try teaching us to manage whatever power Polaris and I still have together.”

  Silence for a moment, then a growled “Hmmmph” snapped Cluny’s attention to her right, the barghest sitting there on the carpet. “Now, now,” the creature said before Cluny could do more than gasp. “You gave me a fair knocking about, Pup, but we’re done now, you and yours and I and all within this house.” He pointed his snout in Goulet’s direction, the young man and the cat both staring. “You say you’re headed for the coast?”

  Goulet nodded.

  The barghest nodded back. “I’ll call that ‘got rid of,’ then, and call my contract fulfilled.” Those simmering red eyes turned, and Cluny found herself staring directly into them. “But you. Huxley students, did I hear you say?”

  Cluny just stared; it was Crocker who got out, “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmmmph.” His shadowy ears perked. “I’ve often thought of late to try my paw at familiaring. Freelance work’s fine and all, y’understand, but after a few dozen centuries of running hither and thither at every summoner’s beck and call, a body starts yearning for a more settled life.” He cocked his head. “Might they be accepting applications at yon school?”

  Again, Cluny couldn’t find any words, but this time, Shtasith spoke up, “As it’s the beginning of the term, friend, I feel certain that our advisor, Master Gollantz, would be most pleased to give you an interview.” Magic plucked at Cluny’s fur, a spell she’d felt several times over the past year. “And in fact—” A little smile curled Shtasith’s snout. “—unless I’m greatly mistaken, that should be—”

  “Sophomore Crocker!” Master Gollantz’s voice boomed from outside. “Since I know the gods of thaumaturgy would never smile so upon me, I’m certain you’re not dead! Step forth, therefore, and let’s put an end to whatever current nonsense you’ve involved yourself in!”

  The words sliced at Cluny like multiple paper cuts, and she briefly thought about shrinking down to flea-size. But no. That woul
dn’t help and would probably just get her squished. “Crocker?” she forced out, flicking a whisker to disperse the shield. “Maybe we should see what Master Gollantz wants.”

  “Pretty sure I can guess,” Crocker said, but he stood up straight, pushed away from the door, and nodded to the others in the hallway. “Goulet? Mr. Barghest? Could you maybe please come with us? I’m betting it’ll be a lot easier to explain all this if you’re there.” He turned and opened the door.

  Out on Goulet’s front lawn stood quite the cadre of humans and animals: Master Gollantz with his big she-wolf familiar Raine; Mistress Ippolitov and her snowy egret Ophiuchus; Eubie all bleary-eyed with Tangle peering over the top of his head; Tzu Yin and her sparrowhawk Jian; the others from their study group with their familiars as well. The students’ eyes all went wide, their companions displaying teeth or claws or topknots in alarm, but Cluny wasn’t sure if it was the sight of Goulet or the barghest that caused the reaction.

  “Well, now,” Master Gollantz said, and Cluny could tell quite clearly where the professors and their familiars had their attention focused. “A barghest, Mr. Sumner?” His eyebrows bristled as he shot a glare at Eubie. “A bit of overkill, wouldn’t you say?”

  Peering out from behind Meeshele, Eubie ducked his head. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Master Gollantz cleared his throat. “As I’m not the one upon whom you set the beast, why are you apologizing to me?”

  The sour stink of human fear spiked up both from Eubie and from Goulet, Polaris cradled to his chest and his gaze on the slate of the front stoop. “No, Master Gollantz,” Goulet said quietly. “Eubie has no need to apologize to me, not after what I did.” His voice choked off, but he raised his head. “I never had a chance to tell any of you how sorry I am. I offer no excuses, and I’ll be paying for my crime for the rest of my life.” He swallowed so hard, Cluny could see the front of his neck bulge. “Rest assured, however, that by the end of next week, I’ll be leaving Huxley Grove, and if all goes well, none of you will ever hear from me again.”

  This silence settled over all of them like partially dried cement, and Cluny found it difficult to both breathe and swallow. After a moment, Goulet bowed his head again. “If you’ll excuse me,” he murmured; turning away, he stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with a quiet little click.

  “Well, then!” said the barghest so suddenly, Cluny jumped inside her pocket. “With another job well done under my pads and paws, I find myself wondering, Master Gollantz, if you’d space on your roster for a new recruit.” He slid forward. “Jorvik’s the name, sir.” He dipped his chin in Raine’s direction. “And madame as well, of course.” He sat, his tongue lolling out. “I’ve been considering a change of lifestyle for some centuries now, and familiaring seems like just the thing: working as part of a team and all.”

  Raine’s ears flicked slightly. “Interesting,” the she-wolf said, and Cluny felt her own ears go tight at the tone in that rough voice; every time Cluny had found herself the focus of Raine’s calculating mind, the experience had proven to be nothing but stressful.

  “Indeed.” Master Gollantz touched a long finger to the tip of his nose. “And since my familiar’s not leaping upon you to separate your head from your neck, I’d say you’d passed the entrance exam.” A smile stretched through his beard, and he held out a hand. “Welcome to Huxley College, Jorvik.”

  Everything pretty much broke up at that point. Master Gollantz, Raine, and Jorvik departed together, and most of the study group pooled their resources to teleport back to the library, Eubie grinning sheepishly among them. Tzu Yin stayed behind with Mistress Ippolitov, the magistrix giving Crocker a brief but pointed lecture that concluded with, “Had Sophomore Hwang kept to your original plan, Sophomore Crocker, imagine how differently this scenario might have played out! But since she came to me at once, we have seen a successful end.” She narrowed her pale eyes. “Remember that we faculty members are resources to aid you, not obstacles to be evaded.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Crocker said, Tzu Yin nodding emphatically beside her, but when the magistrix offered to transport them all to Podkamennaya Hall, Crocker shook his head. “Thanks, ma’am, but, well, the three of us have some talking we need to do. We’ll be back to the study session in a couple minutes.”

  Mistress Ippolitov pursed her lips, but she took herself, Tzu Yin, and their familiars away with a flash of magic as pure and perfect against Cluny’s whiskers as mid-winter snow.

  More silence dropped over them, then, Crocker starting up the little brick pathway to the street, Shtasith curled along the back of his neck from one shoulder to the other. Their magic wrapped Cluny with all their usual warmth, though, and try as she might to hold out grumpily against it, they weren’t more than a few paces down the sidewalk before she broke. “I’m sorry, guys. Really! I just— I thought— I mean, I can’t— I don’t... don’t understand! How can Goulet not want to be a wizard??”

  Crocker sighed. “Y’know, my parents used to ask questions that sounded a lot like that when I couldn’t get interested in any of the stuff they tried to push me into.”

  “What?” Cluny craned her head to look up at him. “How can you say that?? I’m nothing like your parents!”

  “Do you recall, my Cluny,” Shtasith asked, “when Raine deduced the truth about us?”

  A shiver iced down Cluny’s tail. That wasn’t a day she was likely to forget.

  The little dragon’s solid black eyes flickered with swirls of green. “May I ask, then, why you didn’t simply confirm her hypothesis? Why did you and Mistress Hesper go to such lengths to convince Raine she was wrong?”

  More shivers, though they felt more like pinpricks now to Cluny all of a sudden. “Because Raine was more interested in furthering her own ‘familiars versus wizards’ agenda than in anything to do with me.” Sighing, she settled back into her pocket. “The same way I was more interested in my whole ‘animals and humans together make a wizard’ theory than I was in what was best for Goulet and Polaris.”

  Crocker raised a hand, crooked a finger, and tapped the empty air ahead of them, the chime of a tiny bell going off.

  Cluny scowled at him. “Are you trying to make me regret teaching you that spell?”

  He grinned, and Cluny blew out another breath. “Still,” she went on, “those sparks Goulet and Polaris were giving off have nothing to do with Aura Ghosting, and I’m right about the synergy between animals and humans.” She flicked her whiskers. “We just have to find another way to prove it.”

  Shtasith’s tail stroked her ears. “You will, my Cluny.”

  “We will,” Crocker said, poking a finger into Shtasith’s scaly side. “Team Squirrelly’s got three members, Teakettle, remember?”

  “Exactly.” Cluny sat forward, raised her paws, and gathered their magic together. “So let’s get back to work.”

  An Old Dragon’s Treasure

  Robert Lowell Russell

  Keeva has been raised by her dragon-hunter father, a rather unconventional upbringing that fosters a rigid view of dragons and treasure. But she is about to encounter a dragon with a very different view of what constitutes treasure.

  Robert Lowell Russell lives with his family in Ohio. He once aspired to be a history professor but found writing about the real world too constraining. Rob has had more than thirty stories published and likes to write about all sorts of things, frequently including action and humor in his work. Not satisfied with writing stories of questionable content for adults, he's also working on a series of middle school books incorporating his love of mad scientists and not-so-super-heroes. For links to more of Rob's work please visit http://robertlowellrussell.com.

  A dozen silent riders guided their steeds around gray boulders littering the mountain trail. The horses’ hooves were bound in cloth. Layers of animal skins muffled the rasp of the hunters’ ringed armor. Walls of rock, broken by the occasional scrub tree, loomed around the riders. Distant snowcapped peaks brushed the cloud
s.

  Some said only fools became dragon slayers—can’t spend a dragon’s horde when you’re dead—but the true fools died young, their bodies broken and burned. These slayers had gray-streaked hair and bore the scars of battles and the wear of a thousand lonely roads. The hunters carried long, barbed spears and had curved bows with quivers full of razored arrows.

  Bringing up the rear of the grim party, a young woman shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. Keeva pulled her feet from her stirrups to flex her legs and nearly fell from her horse. Flailing, she dropped the spear she held in her arms. The wooden shaft clattered on the rocky trail. The riders ahead winced at the noise. Keeva’s father turned from his mount to glare at his daughter.

  Sighing, the young woman halted her horse while the other riders continued on. Some of the hunters had wanted Keeva to remain at camp, but her father had insisted his only heir climb the mountain with the party. A man has to learn a trade, her father had said, even if she’s a woman.

  Keeva dismounted to retrieve her spear. Reaching for a pebble from the trail, she hurled the stone at a squirrel regarding her from a nearby rock. The animal hardly moved as the pebble sailed harmlessly past its head. Keeva searched the ground for another pebble, but by the time her fingers found a suitable missile the squirrel had scampered away.

  Rubbing the furs around her shoulders, Keeva tried to coax more warmth from them. What she wouldn’t give for a small fire, or better yet the merry blaze in the town’s tavern, nestled safely at the mountain’s base. The hard stares of the village Grandfathers and Grandmothers had made the hunters feel unwelcome—no gratitude for those solving their dragon problem, some of the hunters had complained—but Keeva had caught glances from many of the young men in the town that had been far more inviting. She grinned. After all, she thought, the point of seeking a dragon’s treasure isn’t so that hunters can leave their families for months on end, it’s so they can go back with stories of adventure and gold in their pockets. Her expression darkened when she thought of her mother and sisters, in the ground two years now from the pox.