Knowledge Protects

by D. S. Williams

  “So you've still not experienced a vision?” Epi questioned, his tone not nearly as sharp as it had been.

  Conal answered. “Nope, not one.”

  Epi shook his head worriedly. “I would have imagined the visions would have commenced again by now.”

  “Charlotte has been under a great deal of stress,” Ben interceded.

  William spoke up. “Perhaps the Fae magic is to blame.”

  “I do not know,” Epi muttered. “But perhaps Charlotte needs to speak to the spirits, try and ascertain some answers.”

  They lapsed into silence for a minute or so, and I inhaled deeply, nodding to Acenith. She'd worked her magic, and I was calm once more. Striker offered me an apologetic smile and I was glad he hadn't attempted to add his power to Acenith's… his off-the-cuff comment had thrown me for a loop. Although I knew and trusted the Tines, after seeing Archangelo in the nightmare, my emotions were close to the surface.

  Epi turned to Ben. “Let's go through our lists, see if we're lucky enough to have a cryptologist. Or at the very least, an expert in linguistics. Even a university graduate with a degree in language might help.”

  “What lists?” I questioned, flicking my gaze from Epi to Ben.

  Ben grinned. “There is much you still don't know yet. We need to sit you down and bring you up to speed.”

  “With so many new people joining us, Clint suggested it might be wise to do some recordkeeping,” Gwynn clarified.

  “He recommended we make records of what everyone is good at, how they had been employed before the war. That way, we can best utilize each person's skills, make sure we create the most unified group we can,” Ben supplied.

  “The Fae have worked with your people, established who will be most skilled with the weapons we can provide, and we've recorded what style of fighting each person shows an aptitude for,” Goren added.

  I was impressed by the concept and amazed once again, by how they'd continued to operate so smoothly while I'd been missing.

  “So you see,” Ripley said, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “Even though Conal was the 'Boss of Everything', we did do some constructive things while awaiting the return of our courageous leader.”

  Everyone laughed good-naturedly, and I manage to laugh along with them.

  But the truth was, I was terrified. The more I considered facing Archangelo, the more my terror grew and seeing him in the nightmare had only compounded that dread. For now, I had no choice but to keep the secret to myself. But soon, I would need to talk to someone about those fears, because I suspected they were going to seriously impact on my ability to beat him.

  Chapter 31: The Minions of the Brains Trust

  “I give you my sworn vow, Charlotte. We will do our best.” Gilborg held his arm out in the Fae salute – away from his body, arm straight, and then moving swiftly to bend his elbow and thump his fisted hand to the center of his chest. I was humbled when the entire Fae contingent followed suit, before they turned to Arasinya, dropped to bended knee, and lowered their eyes to the ground, giving her the respect she deserved as their Queen. Arasinya handled it far more gracefully than I did – while she responded with a regal nod of her head, I shuffled my feet and turned the color of a tomato.

  Gilborg turned to follow his men through the rift they'd created to go back to the Realm. While it worked in a similar manner to portals, Fae magic was quite unique. It was done through what I'd dubbed 'smoke and mirrors'. Nobody seemed to do anything specific, but from my viewpoint it appeared to be an intense burst of Fae concentration, creating a 'slash' in the landscape. The jagged, glowing cut appeared a few feet in front of us, as if someone had taken a giant knife to an enormous painting and defaced it. Once the rift opened, they marched through in formation, and the opening disappeared abruptly, leaving the pristine scene behind. Arasinya had explained these rifts from the Fae Realm to Earth were dotted around in strategic positions, all around us – most often, near the sight of ancient ruins. This one, near Zaen, had been created specifically however, something the Fae did on occasion when they needed to reach a precise point on Earth, too far from their usual routes.

  With the last of Gilborg's group gone, Ben turned to me. “We'll take the new men back to camp.”

  I nodded, glancing at the contingent of fifty-five Fae warriors who had arrived and been greeted by their former King. Even now, Keenan stood with them, a mountain of a man among them, keeping a watchful eye on their behavior. While Gilborg had been outright rude, this group remained distrustful, but wore the stunned expressions which suggested they'd just had the floor drop out from beneath their tidy, controlled, Fae world. I was hoping that with Arasinya, Goren and Keenan's help, they wouldn't take long to accept this new reality.

  Turning back to the walls of Zaen, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, let's get to work.”

  Darkness fell before we returned to camp, and once again, I was utterly exhausted after completing further repair work. During the long hours in the city, we'd noticed a couple of unusual things. My stamina had greatly increased and I'd repaired far more than we'd planned for the day. While doing so, I'd maintained dozens of the spirits in corporeal form, had them working on clean up duty alongside the living who'd travelled with us. Much to everyone's surprise, we stepped back through the portal to discover Keenan was still corporeal, even after returning to camp hours earlier with the new Fae. I'd fully expected him to dissipate into thin air when my concentration was diverted elsewhere, but the intimidating fairy met us at the portal with a wink and offered me a thumb's up. Phelan stepped out of the portal directly after me, and I caught the delighted look the two exchanged. I suspected letting the two of them spend so much time together might not be a good thing, as Keenan was picking up human traits at a remarkable rate.

  While all this seemed positive, the continuing lack of visions regarding what was happening with Archangelo and Bran, the Drâghici and Aethelwine bothered me. Jerome assumed the Fae magic had something to do with it, but numerous discussions with the spirits had neither confirmed, nor discounted the likelihood. In fact, the spirits were being even more frustratingly obtuse than normal. It seemed an impending sense of doom hovered over us, hour by hour, and I couldn't shake the fear growing in my core.

  After a quick shower, I collected Patrick from Misaki, who'd been his designated babysitter for the day. With just three months to go until her due date, she was a picture of pregnant beauty, glowing with good health. “He was perfect,” Misaki offered when she handed Patrick over. “I hope our new baby behaves as nicely.”

  I grinned. “I think it's the angel blood.”

  Misaki chuckled. “I'm not sure about that; Kazuki has angel blood,” she motioned to where Kazuki was playing with a group of children in the semi-darkness, under the watchful gaze of a couple of elderly women, “and he's a little tearaway at the minute. The terrible twos are well and truly here.”

  I grinned, watching as Kazuki ran in ever-increasing circles, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Maybe Patrick is just a good kid.”

  The next thing on the agenda was food, after the day at Zaen I was starving. Despite the amount of food Nonny had packed in big wicker baskets for the trip, it seemed there was never enough to sate my appetite. Nissa met up with me after I left Misaki's tent, and I raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

  “Conal informs me he is attending another meeting with the Tremaine Pack elders. He asked that I guard you in his absence.”

  I huffed out an annoyed breath. Conal was spending more and more time trying to sort out his pack. He remained reticent about what was going on, only telling me he would figure it out and I didn't need to worry. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I resented how much time we spent apart. “Okay, then.” There didn't seem anything else to say.

  We made our way to the mess, stopping here and there to speak with people. I was still adjusting to the many new faces, and doubted I'd get to know them all. There were just too many people, and even thoug
h I was being introduced to the newcomers whenever possible – adding their ancestors to my steadily growing supply of spirits – there weren't enough hours in the day to catch up. “Did Conal know how long it might take?”

  Nissa shook her head, adjusting her stride to match mine, her orange eyes wary as she cast a cautious glance over each face we passed. “No. He said not to wait up.”

  “I wish he would just go back to being Alpha,” I admitted, patting Patrick gently on the bottom when he hiccupped and peeked up at me sleepily. He was growing so quickly; in the few days since we'd been reunited he was filling out, his cheeks forming soft little cushions, his arms and legs growing chubbier.

  “He was deeply disrespected by their actions. Like the Fae, the werewolves are honor bound. To have his own pack turn on him as they did, has left Conal feeling he is not respected in the manner a pack Alpha should be. The pack must find a way of repairing the situation.”

  I sighed. “I know.” But in the meantime, it was another issue in the myriad we were swamped by. The race to return to Zaen, the frenzy of working through and understanding the clues we'd been given, the day-to day-dramas of managing such a big group in the middle of nowhere, with only tents and rudimentary facilities to keep them alive… Conal's problem with the pack, and their current, precarious position – a werewolf pack without a leader – was the last straw. I'd pleaded with Conal, begged him to return to the pack, but he'd told me it was more complicated than just having him take up the mantle of Alpha. The intricacies of pack life seemed outrageously difficult to understand from my point of view and I hoped it would be over soon.

  Arriving at the mess, I glanced around the frenzied scene. In desperation, when Nonny's annoyance at Epi's taking over 'her' mess had reached stratospheric proportions, and included a great deal of frenetic Spanish cursing, Epi had done some reorganizing. The eating area had been separated from where Epi worked with his 'minions', as Striker had taken to calling them. Seeming to take up no more space than it had in the first place, the massive tent had doubled in size on the inside, much like Epi's church had in Mississippi. A canvas wall created separate space to one side, dedicated to those working on the myriad of clues I'd provided. Since then, day and night, people worked on solving the mysteries of the drawing.

  Greeting Nonny with a hug and an order for a double serving of tonight's dinner – beef lasagna, garlic bread and a garden salad – I stepped through the divider to greet Epi, eager to discover if any progress had been made. The little wizard's abilities impressed me – even though a wall of tarpaulin was the only thing dividing the two areas, the difference between them was startling. The mess was bright and loud, the sound of dozens of voices chattering, the clatter of pots and pans, the hiss and sizzle of cooking food hung over the entire area, day, and night. But on the other side of the tarpaulin, it was like being thrust into a different world. Orderly rows of tables were filled with the 'brains trust', which was Nick's name for them. A search through Ben's neatly-organized lists had revealed no linguistic experts, but a half dozen alumni and students from Cal-Tech were among our group; members not only of California's premiere technical university but also highly intelligent mathematicians, computer experts and generally Mensa-level individuals. They'd been tasked with no easy job – translating the strange language of the ancient Nememiah's Children. Nothing had been found in any of Epi's books to help decipher the thirteen sigils' meanings.

  Epi saw me and hurried over. “How far along did you get, Child?”

  I huffed out an annoyed breath and responded, mimicking Epi's voice. “Hi Lottie, how are you? Have you had a chance to eat? Was everything okay at Zaen? Did anyone get hurt?”

  The diminutive warlock stared at me, narrowing his eyes and frowning. I stared back for a moment or two, waiting until he started to tap his foot impatiently, then decided I might as well give in. “Armory, hospital, and mess are in one piece. Still got to work on the meeting hall, but honestly, the prospect of trying to get all those pieces of glass back together…”

  Epi waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I understand how difficult it is going to be. Perhaps we shall leave the meeting hall until last, or consider some alternative. Have you begun work on the residences?”

  I stared at him, a single eyebrow lifting. “You don't think three buildings is a good effort for one day?”

  Epi huffed impatiently, glancing at his watch as if it was providing him with a precise countdown to the point when we would run out of time. “As you well know Child—”

  “Yep, I know, I know,” I admitted, with a tired shake of my head. “I'm doing this as fast as I can, Epi. But it's exhausting.”

  “I understand that, but time is of the essence in this situation.”

  “I think I did okay, all things considered. Rebuilt three buildings, had about three hundred spirits physically on the ground working on clean-up, and kept Keenan corporeal here at the camp.”

  Epi nodded vigorously, taking my elbow to lead me towards the people deciphering the unknown language. “Yes. I must admit, that surprised me. I saw Keenan earlier, when Goren and a group of the Fae were touring the camp and when I heard what you were doing in Zaen…” He shook his head and lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence.

  I stared down at him. “Epi? What do you think it means?”

  He glanced up. “I have no idea. But there is no doubt you are experiencing significant increases to your powers. Whether it is the Fae magic still in your veins, or a natural progression of your powers as Nememiah's Child, I cannot say. It is something we need to explore.” He rolled his eyes. “But for now, like many things, it must wait. There are more important issues to concentrate on.”

  I inclined my head toward the tables of people. “Have we made any progress?”

  “The people from Cal-Tech still work on the meaning of the words, and so far, they have deduced two letters, based on the frequency of their appearance.” He indicated the chalkboard where the thirteen sigils were drawn, and next to them, the thirteen words written in the ancient Nememian language.

  Epi pointed to a group of people next, who were assembled around a half dozen computer screens, all of which linked up to a conglomeration of computer towers. “Two of the Cal Tech professors are creating a computer program to complete decrypting, based on the German Enigma electro-mechanical rotor cypher machines of World War Two. They're taking the details they've promulgated from the ancient language, and feeding them into their machine with some sort of coding language, so it will work out the other letters, based on repeated usage, positioning within the words, and about two hundred additional variables.” Epi huffed out a breath. “It is beyond my ability to comprehend. These—” he sniffed disdainfully as he surveyed the multitude of paraphernalia surrounding the six screens, “infernal machines make no sense to me. Grant, would you please…?”

  One of the men straightened up from staring at the screens and walked across. Wearing faded blue jeans and a wrinkled cotton shirt, his heavy-rimmed glasses had slid down his nose and he peered over them, his eyes piercing. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with wild brown hair spiking up everywhere, and a pencil tucked haphazardly behind one ear. He held out his hand, and I balanced Patrick in the crook of my arm as I reached out to shake it. He pumped my hand enthusiastically, speaking all the while.

  “Uh, hi, Charlotte— can I call you Charlotte? Is that okay?”

  I nodded, bemused by his appearance and the wild expression in his eyes.

  “Okay, so this is what we're doing…” He launched into an in-depth explanation, of which I understood perhaps two words out of every seven. Nissa stood at my side, stoic and calm, but I imagined if I was confused, she was doubly so.

  Grant's explanation went on for five, then ten minutes. When my stomach gurgled, I interrupted. “Grant, that all sounds… fascinating. What sort of time frame are we looking at before you have some answers?”

  Grant blinked owlishly, pushing his glasses up with the tip of his
index finger. Next to him, Epi rolled his eyes and I banked down a smile. Grant glanced at the computers, then turned back to us. “We're just about to start up the system, using the codec we've produced to recreate the formula used during World War Two…” His voice tapered off, and he turned back to the computers, scratching at his skull with the tip of the pencil he'd retrieved from his ear.

  “So…” I nudged.

  Grant tucked the pencil behind his ear. “If everything goes okay – and I can't promise anything – maybe a week?”

  I was disappointed. I'd hoped for results much sooner and when I glanced at Epi, he seemed as perturbed by this update as I was.

  Grant saw the meaningful look Epi and I exchanged, and hurried to explain. “It'll be cool, you guys, I promise. A week… that's our outside estimate. It might be sooner than that. It just depends on how fast this system we've worked up starts to figure stuff out, after initial testing.”

  I nodded, wishing that for once, something could be easy. “I understand.”

  ≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈

  “Enoch Bloodgood is trouble. Much trouble indeed. Gabrielle is correct, Thut and I believe that some of what we were seeing in the final days before Zaen's fall could be directly contributed to the magic woven by Enoch Bloodgood with his dark spells.”

  “I agree.” Thut was sitting at the table with Epi and me, and he nodded, his dark eyebrows meeting in a deep frown. “Enoch Bloodgood was a blight across Egypt during the time of the pharaohs. Hundreds… thousands lost their lives during the plagues, and it caused much misery and pain for the Egyptian people.”

  “So how do we fight against this black magic?” I demanded.

  Epi shook his head. “I do not know.”

  I was growing increasingly fatalistic with every passing hour, starting to suspect we couldn't possibly win. It was a frightening thought, and when I glanced around the mess, saw the people sitting in the area with us – the wives, the husbands, grandparents, children – a sensation of panic swamped my chest.