Will of Shadows: Inkwell Trilogy 2 (The Inkwell Trilogy)

by Aaron Buchanan

  “Right. Like Shred.” I offered, but also wondered if the geomancer Cool Luke mentioned in the Adirondacks was one whom he knew to trust. Or if Dad was entirely an isolationist.

  “Yes.” Her pace quickened a bit and I wondered if it was conscious on her part so she would not have to say too much. “It was not long before that chest you showed me was fashioned, that the ranks of the mages in this world contracted severely—to the 30 of which you speak. Your father did not want you to know of them so he could protect you, of course. We had conversations about this. He knew his time was short and he fully intended to tell you. But rEvolve saw to it that he was killed before anyone from The Triginta could reach him and before he could finish telling you everything. For instance, Grey, I am sure you did not know that it is because of The Triginta that your parents met. It was only then that he severed ties with most other mages.”

  “Because…?” I was not understanding. And the parked vehicles were now in sight.

  “I was not so much a confidant to know those details.” Athena, thankfully, stopped, took me by my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

  “But Shred does?” I did not believe it. Was this why Shred was so evasive when I asked him about The Triginta earlier? Has he spent the majority of my life sitting on some sort of truth-bomb regarding not only The Triginta, but also my mother?

  “Yes, Grey. Though, he was not directly involved,” she smirked, “ as he was ‘on tour’ in those days. However, he knows about your mother. And he knows enough to be wary of the other mages…” The goddess still rested a hand on my shoulder in a way seen from parent-to-child, but I had never before experienced.

  “And I should be too.” Besides to ask me for the Sucikhata, she was here to warn me of entangling myself with other mages. “Triolo is evil in the true sense of the term. But I think Cool Luke is to be trusted.”

  “He may be. But be on guard. If he was trained by Triolo, be mindful of a ruse. Or, at the very least, recognize that his fear of his former master may make him do terrible things.” Athena’s hand was off and she was ambling toward my cab again.

  Having survived the onslaught on Cool Luke’s cabin near the trivium, it was next to impossible to think that he would be working as Triolo’s accomplice. But she was right—fear could make the dearest of friends into enemies. “Do you know anything about the geomancer Cool Luke mentioned? The one who drove Triolo across the Mississippi?”

  “No, I know nothing concerning him; but you already know him to be formidable. You know to proceed carefully.” We were already back at the vehicles. It was time for me to leave.

  “Take care, goddess. Give my regards to Diomedes. I’ll bring it to you as soon as I can.” The thought of the obsidian-like dagger caused me to cringe on the inside. I didn’t like it. I didn’t approve. But my modern sensibilities—my human sensibilities could not compete with the goddess of wisdom. That was a hubris I was not prepared to justify.

  There were a few hours to spare and if I left at that moment, I would reach Logan with an hour and a half to spare. I thanked the goddess, stuffing the Post-Its into my left jeans pocket and jogged back to the cab waiting for me.

  I texted Joy to have her and Cool Luke meet me at the airport with my newly acquired luggage and passport. On the cab ride back to Boston, I carefully inspected Athena’s inscription, pushing her errand, her favor, to the back of my mind. I committed each symbol and its English equivalent to memory by the time I arrived at the airport. The inscription read:

  Transportation of the sky wielding memory of the dead

  carries forward intentions of healing and remorse.

  The words made no sense to me. I wish I had looked at the goddess’ full translation before I ran back to the cab. Of course, she knew I would not understand. Maybe she did not know and did not care to belabor that point. She had discharged her duty to translate. It was up to me to figure out the rest.

  Joy and Cool Luke were likewise stymied when I told them the inscription. The six-hour flight to London was filled with wild theories about encryption and metaphors conveying meaning. I pride myself on my facility and abilities with language, but knew there were no quick conclusions to be reached. I needed time to percolate the information.

  It was a little past eight a.m. local when we fetched our luggage at Heathrow. Victoria made us a reservation for a car rental. None of slept very well on the flight, but we were rested enough to start our drive. Victoria assured us she would meet up with us the next day at a hotel she booked for us in Mold, Wales, and from there we would continue on and embark a ferry to the Isle of Man. I still did not know how Victoria spent her days. She never spoke of some mundane job, but she seemed like the busiest person I’ve ever met. Though, she was not a person, but the goddess of victory. Maybe she still engaged in various activities relating to her domain. Or, perhaps, she was still engaged in the search for members of rEvolve. I hoped one day to learn the comings and goings of ancient deities in a world that would soon as forget them.

  That night seemed especially long. Though I had recovered from my previous travels and misadventures in San Francisco and Nashville, my dreams were filled with deep, dark forests, being lost, waking in my dream to find myself in another similarly foreign, dark forest. Trees and nature were always something that I not only felt comfortable with, but also sought out on my own. I think it might be because trees are just books in their most nascent form. Or maybe in their purest form. The works of Freud and Jung, amongst others, were familiar to me. I did not agree with either of them, and never had much use to see otherwise. Though on nights such as this, I recalled Jung’s supposition of the collective unconsciousness of humanity and believed there might actually be something.

  I was in the lobby of the hotel by four a.m. begging the desk clerk for a cup of coffee. “Excuse me, sir?”

  A desk clerk was hiding in an office behind the desk, but came forward as soon as he heard me. “Yes, miss?”

  I smiled, laying my charm on as thickly as I was capable, “Ferris?” Ferris smiled and nodded toward the pin on his vest that bared his name. “I have not had an easy night and I have long day ahead of me. I was wondering if I could trouble you for a cup of tea or coffee? Anything caffeinated?”

  It occurred to me that Ferris’ polite smile was more perfunctory. He was nice because it was expected, but any additional effort was not welcome. He was Joy’s age and it left me wondering how she managed to put up with her peers on a day-to-day basis. Ferris pointed to an adjoining room reserved for the continental breakfast and returned to typing on his computer.

  “Thanks!” I meant to inject some sarcasm, but I somehow sounded genuinely pleased.

  I returned to the desk, if for no other reason than to pester Ferris with loud sips from my mug.

  Sensing the awkwardness, Ferris broke the tension. “You’re American? Where from?”

  I was beginning to think my Welsh friend was flirting with me. Or passing the time. I was very bad at telling the difference between the two. “Springfield, Massachusetts. Close to Boston, really.”

  “Oh, so a Red Sox fan?” he asked somewhat excitedly. Baseball. It was a conversation my father would have liked having, as he had sort of developed some sort of meditative trance whilst watching baseball games on television. I actually thought it just put him to sleep. Far be it from me doubt the words of a great logomancer. Not only did I think baseball came second only to golf in its soporific—meditative—qualities, I also found the game creepily masculine. Too much ass-slapping while chewing cuds of tobacco like nicotine-addicted cows.

  “No, sorry. Not really,” the conversation was beginning to turn toward horrifically awkward, but I was saved when Victoria came through the front door of the hotel.

  “You’re up early,” she said, not missing a beat.

  “You’re here early,” I said a little too gleefully. “Victoria, meet Ferris. Ferris, Victoria.” Victoria offered her hand but suddenly thought better than shaking hands with the h
elp. It was hard to imagine her as an elitist, but maybe she had been rubbing elbows with the well-to-do for too long. I wondered if she viewed me with the same kind of general disdain.

  Ferris recovered by waving at her. They each said “Pleasure” simultaneously.

  My coffee had cooled enough, so chugged the cricket-themed mug back to give back to Ferris. “I can’t thank you enough, Ferris.” I made a mental note to order a Red Sox jersey and have it sent here later on.

  “We have much to discuss. Are your comrades awake yet?” Victoria took me to the side for more privacy.

  Noticing Ferris’ continued interest, I walked Victoria outside and out of earshot. The sun was yet an hour from rising and the town of Mold was deathly quiet. I would try to keep our conversation to a whisper. “Okay. What’s going on now?”

  The goddess cleared her throat before launching into her new piece of information. “The alchemist followed you to Boston. The mistress has assessed the danger he poses and would advise you to treat it most seriously. We also believe he was able to track you to Britain”

  “I promise you, I am treating this very seriously. Triolo is insane. He’s sick and desperate, and I can’t say I’m surprised.” Victoria was quiet, contemplating. “Just how is it that he’d be able to track me to Britain?”

  Much had transpired over the past six months to inspire fear in her. Though Triolo did not exactly present a mortal danger to her, she did look more alert than usual, if not fearful. “You’re the mage, Grey. The ways of human magic are largely unknown to me. Perhaps he has a confederate?” Her eyebrow raised at the idea.

  “Cool Luke? While that is a possibility, I think the odds that they are in league together and this errand is some ruse to be very unlikely.” The morning air was quite chilly; I shivered. Victoria, already in long sleeves—a slate gray pantsuit this time—was unaffected. I rubbed at my bare arms, warming them. “No. I think he’s very savvy technologically. I think that was one of the skills that served him during his days as a hitman.”

  Victoria cupped her chin between her thumb and forefingers, “You used aliases and enchanted passports to travel, correct?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Of course.”

  “Do you have any idea how your enchanted passports would show up in a computer scan? Could an anomaly have given you away if he were able to hack the TSA?” Victoria must have put this together on the drive over. I doubt she even knew what the TSA was before she investigated this theory.

  My lips pursed in frustration. “I have no idea. I have not needed to travel under an assumed name in a while. I have no idea how it would show up on the fly-lists or even IF it would show up on a fly-list.”

  This was what she expected to hear. “I will secure you falsified, non-enchanted passports at once. I trust you can fake an English accent? Not in the way most Americans think they can perform the accent?”

  I tried not to be offended. I had never tested my foreign accents. I would have to practice and add some to my repertoire. “I can do a mean Scottish brogue,” I offered in my mean Scottish brogue. “Do ye tink he be a-comin’ here to Britain then, do ye?”

  Victoria was not amused by my continued effort in the accent. “Too much, but close enough. And to answer your question, I think we have to assume he is here or somewhere over the Atlantic as we speak.”

  The thought was discomfiting. He would follow us by any means necessary, magical or mundane. I had some things I would need to do before catching the ferry that morning. I turned to go back inside, but was held back by Victoria.

  She bent down to her small, designer carry-on bag and handed me a cardboard box roughly the same size and shape as a large, hardbound book. She bid me to look inside.

  What I saw before me were what looked like two electronic syringes. There also two small canisters of carbon dioxide and about 60 small pellets. I looked to Victoria for explanation.

  “I had these made for you and your apprentice. They are pellet guns small enough to look like your pens,” Victoria’s usually crusty demeanor broke for a moment, hinting at smile. “Those pellets can be imprinted with this,” she handed me another sophisticated piece of machinery that resembled something like a scalpel. “It’s a laser. You’ll need to enhance your eyesight do so, but you’ll be able to shoot…”

  “Spellcraft with real bullets.” I was dumbstruck. This was a gift that took great care in executing. I hugged her. What’s more, the goddess hugged me back.

  “I’m glad to have you back here, Grey.” Victoria wiped at her eyes, grabbed her small suitcase and went to sit on a couch inside the lobby.

  The four of us hopped the ferry in Liverpool.

  “There are some things we must discuss before arriving,” Victoria led us to a corner of the lounge area. The chairs were cushioned, but shaped like sea shells with alternating colors of teal and coral. The ferry looked too old upon embarking. These chairs confirmed it. What I had learned about the Isle of Man made me think it was a world that lived in its own time and on its own terms. It felt as if the closer we got to the island, the greater our chances we would travel back in time.

  Cool Luke was the first to respond. “Do we have a plan, then?”

  “The island is peculiar place. A beautiful place; its inhabitants are also peculiarly superstitious,” Victoria began to explain. “And the god for whom the island is named still walks there.”

  Joy looked to me and back to Victoria, “You mean, it’s named for a god?”

  I couldn’t help breaking into my Scottish brogue once more, “Aye, lass. One o’ the Celtic ones at that.”

  Joy crossed her arms and squinted her eyes, “Not bad. Could use some work.”

  I brushed off her criticisms, but reverted to my normal speech. “Don’t say his name, though, just in case.”

  “Under normal circumstances, that would be advisable, but I have already made contact with him. I would not be able to set foot there without him knowing. Besides which, he is helping us whilst on the island.” Victoria sat at her chair, as if she hoped to flag an attendant down for tea. This did not seem like that kind of operation, but it was Britain, after all.

  “So, Manannán is set to lend us a hand?” I saw Victoria beckon someone and pantomime drinking a cup of tea. She was rebuffed when the attendant turned around and walked the other direction.

  “What an impertinent child,” she scoffed. “He will not be lending a hand, Grey, but he will be lending us an automobile.

  I sat back, remembering how the gods came to fight Dalton and rEvolve in Marseilles. “Goddess, why did Manannán not join us at Marseilles?”

  Victoria winced, as if answering me would cost her something emotionally. To her credit, though, she responded. “Because, Ms. Theroux, Manannán is the last.”

  She did not need to explain what she meant by last. The three of us there new it meant the other Celtic gods were dead. I wondered if some had survived until this past September and was felled by the Sucikhata, but in this instance hoped ignorance was bliss. If Manannán wanted to remain as the last vestige of this ancient culture, then it was his right.

  Cool Luke cleared his throat, apparently waiting for a moment to interject himself. He was troubled by other presences than an aged Celtic sea god, however. “No, I what I meant,” he put his hand up in apologetic motion to the goddess once he realized he had just interrupted her. “I refer to Mr. Triolo. Do we have a way of dealing with him? I worry that we will go to Bereft only to be met there by him.” He looked to me, then to Joy. “And lay a trap to kill us. You do not know him the way I do. He will find us.”

  I had my own reasons to be wary of Triolo, aside from my experiences with him. I found his past to be the most disturbing. The binders. His mother. His work. “Victoria, once we are able to enter Bereft, I was told my magic is somehow augmented while in the shadows. I have an idea, but is there anything else you could tell us?”

  Joy cocked her head, wondering what my idea might be. I shot her a look that beg
ged her off as to allow the goddess to offer information.

  “I have never entered the shadows. Though, you should know there are not many areas where one can. And each one of them was fashioned by the magoi. What I know of them is this: there are places in the world that exist in a way that mortal minds cannot perceive. The magoi found some of these natural aberrations and stretched them into space and time. Most are not very large. Here, the magoi stretched it to its furthest known extent. And…”

  “Whoa,” Joy covered her mouth. Cool Luke looked to her with an expression that suggested he felt he was missing something. “Victoria, is there something wrong with Bereft? Did the magoi stretch the shadows too far?”

  While I did not believe coming here would be the proverbial picnic, I was looking forward to connecting with an aspect of my heritage that still seemed foreign and so very strange. I peered at Victoria, waiting for her answer.

  “I cannot say for certain. All I am able to say is: I have known no magos to come or go to Bereft in a few hundred years. My compatriots,” Victoria swallowed hard, using a euphemism for her pantheon, closing her eyes, “either considered that the magoi purposely closed themselves off, or…”

  “Something destroyed Bereft?” Cool Luke wondered aloud, seeking an answer he knew Victoria did not have.

  “So, we should prepare ourselves to face anything before we get there. As unlikely as it is that he’ll beat us there, we should be prepared in case he or anyone else is waiting for us.” I got up from my coral-colored sea shell chair and approached a family of tourists about 10 chairs away. The ferry was not densely populated, so I hoped they could offer me what I was looking for.

  “Pardon me, my friend over there had a few too many last night,” I pointed at Joy who, apparently, heard what I said and was all too happy to play along. She pantomimed that she might retch over Cool Luke. Victoria did not follow the act and looked abjectly horrified. “Do you have a pair of sunglasses I could purchase from you?”