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

by Aaron Buchanan

  The wife wore some over her hair as if it were a hairband. The husband, smiled and deferred to his wife. The two children had rightly dismissed this encounter as boring and went back to playing video games on their respective devices. I dug a £50 note out of my pocket and offered it to her. The only reply I got was, “Definitely,” and the removal of the glasses.

  “Thank you,” I accepted them and handed her the cash and went back to where Victoria, Joy, and Cool Luke were sitting.

  “Here. Take these and meet me in the restroom,” I gave the pair of sunglasses to Joy. “Cool Luke, I’ll need for you to run interference on the ladies room door.” I turned to Victoria. “Victoria…I have no idea. Do as you do.”

  Victoria removed her cell phone from her purse and began typing on it.

  I enchanted the new pair of sunglasses to an almost microscopic level. It took several more minutes of me vandalizing the stall door with my pocket laser-inscribing pen. I would worry about proper loading and shooting once we had more space to test distance. As for now, I wanted to inscribe several of the pellets Victoria brought me with various spells. Sleeping spells were an obvious need, so those were my first attempts. I butchered the first few, but by the fourth inscription, I had the trick of it. Thankfully, the pellets were cylindrical and not spherical. I had no idea how that would affect its aerodynamic properties, but was glad to not have to work with such tiny spheres.

  The ferry ride was only a 40-minute trip, and I could hear Cool Luke chasing off some would-be restroom-users the closer we got to the island. I had only inscribed six by then, but hoped I would get faster at it with more practice. In all, I had three pellets for putting to sleep, two for befuddlement, and one for death. I kept that pellet in my pocket and separate from the others. I would only use it if Triolo were to show up.

  Chapter 8

  Victoria led us to car she had arranged to be dropped at a lot near the dock. A brown-haired boy, maybe 12 or 13, was waiting in the driver’s seat for us.

  “Here ya go,” he said, tossing a set of keys to Victoria. She caught them without missing a stride, even if the boy’s angle for throwing made for a difficult catch.

  “Thank you, Sean,” the goddess opened the trunk and beckoned us to put our luggage inside. Cool Luke had since purchased a portable trolley and was toting around his boxes with tremendous care.

  “When we get to a good place to stop, I will need to,” he pointed at his trolley, “get some things as well.”

  Victoria heard him, though it was not necessarily meant for her, “Cool Luke—we’ll go to our inn first to drop our luggage and get set to go.”

  Ferries back and forth weren’t that frequent, though I was surprised to hear we had made plans to lodge for the night. “We’re staying, then?”

  “Of course, silly girl—we have no idea how long our errand will take.” Victoria’s usually carefully done up-do was now being blown in parts around her head. It had a comedic effect as she tried pointlessly to hold her hair in place as the wind whipped us all around.

  Sean helped Cool Luke pack his boxes in the trunk and climbed into the back seat and sat in the middle. I let Cool Luke take the front passenger seat, while Joy and I sat on either side of Sean. Now that I’d gotten another look at him, he was taller than I thought. Lankier. If not for his cherubic face, he might have passed for someone older.

  As I shut the car door, I saw Victoria’s lips smirk. Sean may be having the greatest moment of his life as I looked down to see him staring at me. He was smiling and made no effort to hide how pleased he was to be sitting between two pretty girls.

  “I’m way too old for you kid,” I thumbed toward Joy, “she’s much closer to your age.”

  “What’s up, Sean. I’m Joy.” She offered her hand, which he took eagerly. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “As well you, miss!” Sean’s demeanor was reminiscent of a puppy. He even swiped at his hair to clear it from his eyes—even though it was nowhere near them.

  “And that over there, Sean,” she thumbed back at me, causing him to swivel towards me, accidently elbowing me painfully in the breast, “is a big pain in the ass.”

  Sean giggled.

  If I had not just been elbowed by a boy who was, by accounts, all elbows, I might have laughed. Instead I glowered at them both.

  Every road on this island, what few there were, actually, were even more narrow than some of the narrowest I had traveled on the continent. I kept hoping that Sean was not the one to have driven the car to us at the dock, but it was obvious from his directing Victoria where to go and when to get over as to not get hit by oncoming traffic, it was, in fact Sean who had driven it to us. He didn’t say much, but the silly grin seemed permanently affixed to his face.

  “Is your father in, or will we have to wait for him?” Victoria inquired.

  “Nah, he’s off who-knows-where. Left this mornin’. No tellin’ when he’ll get back,” Sean shouted to the front seat. He was at the age when voice control was still a foreign concept. “He said to make yourselves comfortable until he arrives.” I thought it might just be me sidling up closer to the window in attempt to get away from the boy, but Joy was doing the same thing. “Pops said you lot like books and all that. We got some that might be of interest, but we watch a lot of Netflix, you know.” Sean addressed Joy directly, bringing his volume down several decibels. “Love that Breaking Bad, ya know. Such a bad ass show.” Joy went to college as recently as this past fall. Evidently, she knew what he was talking about. I, on the other hand, had not the slightest inkling. I watched Game of Thrones—as also did Victoria—because I loved the books. I would catch some shows and movies from my childhood—before the rigors of the academic’s, nay, the logomancer’s life came to demand so much of my time.

  My phone buzzed from inside my jacket pocket. I was startled slightly as I did not expect to have much of a signal on the island, but I saw now that I had full reception. It wasn’t like the Isle was a third world country, but I wasn’t quite expecting it to have so fully embraced technology. But, given the abundance of motorbikes, perhaps I should have guessed.

  “It’s from Shred,” I scanned through the message to make sure there wasn’t anything too sensitive for Sean’s ears. “He says: Zala found me and is doing aerial recon of the Adirondacks. I also have a good lead from my musician buddy down by the bridge. In Speculator, NY now. Will check in soon, even if the lead doesn’t pan out.”

  “What would the dem—”Joy began to say before I put a finger to my lips and gestured toward Sean with my eyes.

  Victoria must have been looking at us through the rearview mirror. “It is quite all right, Ms. Theroux—this is Manannán’s son. He’s quite knowledgeable of our real work.”

  “—on know about a geomancer hiding out in Upstate New York?” Joy continued, referring to Shred’s demonic friend in Springfield who was known for impromptu jam sessions. Maybe I really would like to meet this friend of his one day?

  It was a fair question. As far as I knew, it was only a jam buddy as Shred called him. “I would reckon that he’s been around a while. And he’s probably privy to parts of the SUB we have no idea whatsoever about.” Sean was looking at me quizzically. “Sorry, SUB—Seedy Underbelly. Just a nickname. There’s not a real name for all those things that go bump in the night.”

  “My pops says there is. But he says it in Manx, so I have no idea what the fuck he’s saying,” Sean beamed.

  “SEAN!” Victoria yelled.

  “Sorry, miss,” he said penitently. “He tries to teach me the Old Language. I’m just shit for paying attention---whoops, sorry, miss.”

  By now, I was thoroughly amused. If Sean took after his father in the least, I thought I would get along well with the sole surviving Celtic god. It made me happy, in a way, that even if he were the last of his kind, he found some way of conceiving a son. Sean also might have been a factor in him not coming to fight with us in Marseilles. Just as well in hindsight. Other gods were cruelly cut
down. If that had happened to Manannán, Sean would be an orphan. Or an orphan all over? It was my understanding that the gods could not have children. I was left to conclude that circumstances led Manannán to adopt Sean as his son. Whatever the circumstances, it seemed the relationship was every bit the same as it would if it were a naturally conceived one.

  “Here, miss. This one’s ours,” Sean leaned up on the seat and pointed to a house coming up on our right. It was two-stories and built from stone. While it was not directly on the sea, it sat on a cliff overlooking it. While not palatial, it was not small. From the outside, it looked like it may have had four or five bedrooms. There were also four small sheds dotting the property, including one that could have held another car or two.

  Anxious, Sean beckoned Joy to get out on her side. “Okay, okay. Calm down now!” Joy scooted out, allowing Sean to jump out.

  “This is the car you’ll be using, so just leave your stuff inside.” Sean walked to the front door, knocked six times, used a very antique looking key and depressed the thumb latch to enter.

  I kept my mailbag with me, as I had gotten almost afraid to leave it anywhere. We followed Sean inside, through a sitting room to a room in the back of the house that could only be described as a man-cave. There were leather recliner-sofas, three large flat-screen televisions, and what looked like a hundred LED-blue lights emitting from various dials and consoles. The walls were bannered with various film and, I guessed, video game franchises. And it had the delightfully pleasant odor of pipe tobacco.

  “You know, in the old days, back when Pops was more than Pops, they used to think this island was Avalon,” Sean invited us to sit on the recliners. “You know, where King Arthur went after he defeated Mordred?” His words were mixed with the casual tones of an educator and those of a child trying to impress.

  I knew the story well. In fact, it was always one of my very favorites. “Really? Is there some kind of historical or traditional basis for this?” I asked, truly curious.

  Sean suddenly looked nervous, as if I had caught him in some kind of lie. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t all that used to talking about literature. “Uhm…Pops says because it’s so foggy here, they used to think it was the Mists of Avalon.”

  “Hmmm. Yeah, makes sense,” Joy said distractedly, sitting uneasily on the recliner-sofa.

  Cool Luke wondered around the room, looking intently at the technology it contained and trying to make some sense of it.

  I, too, sat on the recliner and eased it back. My cup of coffee early in the morning had long since worn off, so found myself dozing lightly.

  When I awoke, I saw Cool Luke seated on the recliner next to me fast asleep. Joy and Victoria were nowhere to be seen. Fearing the noise the recliner would make to put it back into position, I crawled out of it with considerable effort to keep quiet and crept out of the man-cave and through the house. At first, I stopped at the edge of every room to listen for voices, but soon realized staying quiet was probably not worth the effort as the floorboards creaked with even the slightest exertion up on them. I remember reading about a palace in Kyoto, Japan—the Nijo Castle—in which one of the Tokugawa rulers used dry wood with noisy joints to alert the castle of intruders. It was called the Nightingale Floor. While I did not believe that this floor was designed so intricately, it did give me pause to wonder if there was more to this house than met the eye.

  No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, I heard the creaking of the floor behind me. “Where is everyone?” Cool Luke yawned, making no effort to conceal his steps, likely having noticed the futility of doing so.

  “Dunno.” I finally started to smell something cooking. English gastronomy wasn’t particularly known for having strong flavors, but something was baking.

  Cool Luke overtook me at point, following his nose to the source of the smell. “Smells good, eh Bub?”

  In the kitchen, we found Sean cleaning up from his baking endeavor. “Eh. Herring and mushroom pies in the oven.” He wiped vigorously at the flour-residue on his countertop. “Hope that’s okay for dinner?”

  I had a strange predilection for the various pies and puddings of the British Isles, so hoped this one would also measure up to previous experience. “Yes. Sounds lovely, thank you. Where are Joy and Victoria?”

  Cool Luke opened the oven to assess the pies and closed it just as quickly. He looked up at Sean when I asked this, also looking to find our friends.

  “Lady Victoria went into town. Your friend, Joy, took the steps down to the sea,” he shoved some mixing bowls into a sink full of sudsy water. “Dinner won’t be ready for another 30 minutes or so. Go take a look-see. I’d show you my badass gaming set-up if I didn’t have to clean up.” The last statement was directed toward Cool Luke, who smiled graciously, even if it did not interest him at all.

  “I used to play games with my brothers. We had an old Sega Genesis,” he explained. “My mother would get very angry at us because it always led us to fighting.” Cool Luke looked lost in his reverie. He missed his mother and brothers considerably. If we could end the conflict with Triolo—or end Triolo—he might be able to see them again.

  I left Cool Luke to his old-school gaming conversation with Sean, and I exited the house. I wasn’t sure where these stairs were that Sean referred to, but there was enough daylight left to snoop around without falling off a cliff. Behind one of the sheds, I followed a worn path that didn’t look very promising at first, but as it curved around down the slope, I saw the steps leading down the cliff face at a sharp angle. My new boots were not adequately broken in yet and I lamented the blisters I would I would have after the climb back up.

  Joy sat on the beach, cradling her knees, streaks of hair flapping recklessly in the wind. In the wind she didn’t hear me coming. “Hey. See anything?”

  “Nah. Just watching the sunset,” Joy replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her head. “Trying to enjoy a moment before we move on.” Joy was a much more social creature than I was. However, we were very similar in our almost pathological need for alone time.

  “You should realize, then,” I sat down in the sand beside her,” we’re on the wrong side of the island to see the sun set.”

  She smiled. “You know what I mean. We don’t see the ocean nearly as much as we should. I’m breathing in some peace and tranquility while I can.”

  It was much colder than I anticipated. The wind blew in violent gusts, making my eyes water. “If there’s no rest for the wicked, there certainly can be no tranquility for us,” my voice rose above the rush of the tide and the waves crashing into shore.

  “You know, when you’re a kid,” Joy nuzzled her face in her hands to warm her nose. Her voice was difficult to hear above the sounds of the Irish Sea, so strained hard to hear her. “You have these lofty dreams of becoming a princess or a firewoman or president or whatever. But you’re also overcome by nightmares at, like, the drop of a hat. And when you get older, all those strange—what you thought were unsubstantiated—fears and hopes you had as a child just…” she exhaled, sounding wistful. “Crest like the tide. Go away in favor of the so-called real world. And you realize that the real world isn’t that scary at all. Except, things happen. And you find out that all those nightmares you had as a kid? Well, we can substantiate them now. And you start doing crazy things that would have made your child-self sick with dread.

  “Like chase around some weirdos murdering gods.” She looked at me, “I feel like I haven’t slept in months, Grey.” In the fading light of the sun, I saw Joy’s anguish, her exhaustion.

  I said nothing, electing to place both my arms around her in a hug from where I was sitting. These moments I feared I was at my most inept and vulnerable. “I know. I haven’t slept well since Dad died. Even before then, most nights were spent with books lulling my mind into a stupor. It’s a hard life, Joy. No question. And I think our generation of magoi might be the last. That’s the thought that frightens me more than anything else. Not because it’s the way things have al
ways been, but because we’re just no longer needed.”

  “Thank you for understanding. You’re the best of friends,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes that may or may not have been induced by the wind. “Now, let me ask you this—do you think what’s happening with Triolo and what happened with rEvolve are related?”

  It was a question I had not yet had time to evaluate. “I have no idea. I have a hard time thinking that events that rEvolve set into motion shook Triolo’s nut loose from the tree, but I haven’t seen anything to connect the two yet.”

  Joy got up and helped me out of the sand as well.

  “Ho there!” a voice cried from behind Joy. We both turned to look at hoary-headed man wearing a wetsuit making his way out of the surf.

  “Mages! Up to the house with ya! They’re coming! Some’ll be here soon. We got some time, but probably not enough. Much to discuss in the meantime!” He raced past us and took the steps three at a time. Meanwhile, me with my new and not-yet comfortable boots loaded with sand, I jogged up after both Joy and whom I assumed to be Manannán.

  Chapter 9

  My first impression of Manannán was underwhelming. I’d only been to Florida once, but he gave me the impression of a retiree having gone snorkeling for the very first time. I even pictured him out of his wetsuit, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and socks-with-sandals. He even sported a larger paunch compressed by his wetsuit. Either that, or he was holding it in.

  By the time I reached the last step and spoke my last regret aloud for having gone down in the first place, Manannán was inside the shed closest to the path. “Go on, now—changing here! Be inside in a moment!” I thought about asking him what was going on in Gaelic, but was not at all confident in my pronunciation. In my exhaustion, I even gave up asking in English and hurried to the front door, desperate to pour the sand from my boots.