by P. A. Wilson
“What has he done?”
“Ask him what he keeps in his bag of toys.” She flickered back to a crow shadow.
I looked at Olan and raised my eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.
“I didn’t know it belonged to anyone.” He stepped out from behind me, dug around in his sack and then threw a lump that landed on the ground. “She can have it back.”
The crow launched herself off the railing and swerved toward Olan. She screeched and swiped at Olan with her beak. Being touched by The Morrigan was death to some beings. Olan fell over.
As I bent to pick him up, The Morrigan swept past me and took the lump in her beak. I fell back to avoid her spread wings as she rose again.
I looked for Olan and found him lying on his side in the dirt. “Olan?” I didn’t believe he was gone. I didn’t want to believe it. He could be a pain but I was just getting to like him and he could be helpful. “Olan?” I heard a wheeze and turned him over.
He was sprouting feathers. The transformation completed and he flapped a wing and righted himself. His beak opened and only a weak chirp emerged from his chickadee throat.
“Can you fly?”
He hopped and flapped his wings. No luck. He shook himself and looked around. Picking a patch of dirt he scratched with his talons the stood aside. He’d written home.
“Okay, get up here.” I put him on my shoulder, picked up his bobbin and sack and headed for home.
Chapter Six
Olan was making a crooning croak. I know birds are not capable of it, but I thought he was trying to clear his throat. “You should probably rest your voice. It might be temporary.”
He butted my ear with his head.
I really did hope he got his voice back and learn to fly if he couldn’t get back to pixie form. I figured if he didn’t, I would have a permanent bird on shoulder look. As we cut through a few alleys to get closer to my place, I thought through some possible healing spells. It was probably not a good idea to mess with what The Morrigan had done, but I felt sorry for him.
I turned down the last alley and heard voices. Olan pecked my ear just as I came to a stop. I stepped back into the shadows. Ahead a fairy girl was walking with a human man. I could make out the glamour she’d spun to hide her true identity. In reality she was a nightshade fairy, about three feet tall and thin, dark purple hair and white skin; the glamour showed a busty blond almost six foot. The human was almost salivating with desire. I could smell his musk from here.
Olan rocked on my shoulder, as though trying to tell me something. I hadn’t a clue whether he meant we should run away or jump in to stop what was probably about to happen.
I stayed in the shadows.
In my pocket I felt for the sight charm I carried for emergencies. If I was right, there would be a Sidhe lurking nearby. The spell would let me see into shadows.
I found the charm and squeezed it to release the power, keeping it in my pocket minimized the chance the fairy would notice, but did diminish the power. I could only see dimly into the shadows, but I could see. There was a Sidhe woman wrapped in a dark cloak standing in the deepest gloom of a doorway beyond the fairy and human.
I didn’t recognize her but she had the look of a court member. Her hair was golden; at least the few strands of curl that fell out of the hooded cloak glinted like gold. I caught a glimpse of milky skin splattered with freckles as she leaned forward slightly. Her movement brought my attention back to the fairy who was talking to the human in a warm voice.
“Drink this.” She held a glass in her hand. “It will help you later, when we are alone.”
“I don’t need help.” The man laughed and reached for her. “Let’s get to your place.”
Good, he was going to survive. I searched my pockets for something to interrupt them. I didn’t have time for a spell, and the Sidhe would probably intercept it if I tried to cast something. If I could find a stone or something to throw, I could break the trance she was building.
“No.” I wondered if he heard the desperate note in her voice as I scanned the ground. “You don’t know. I’m different.”
“Okay, sweetie, don’t get upset.” He kissed her before taking the glass. “If you really want me to, I’ll take it, but I’ve never needed help.”
I looked up, a chunk of brick in my hand. She smiled and leaned into him as he swirled the glass. I stepped forward to throw the brick.
Too late, he tipped the liquid into his mouth. I saw him swallow and then drop the glass which shattered on the cobbles. The fairy stepped back as the man reached for her, his body contorting. The man twitched and spun on his heels, it looked like he was searching for something. Then he started swinging as though he was fighting more than one opponent.
Suddenly he stumbled, one leg giving out. His hand grabbed at his stomach. He groaned. The groan changed to a gasp, and then a wheeze as his body buckled to the ground.
The fairy beckoned to the Sidhe and held her other hand over the man as he bucked on the ground. His movements getting smaller until he almost lay still. The Sidhe bent as though to kiss the man. I saw his spirit leave his mouth to be sucked into hers. It brought back memories of vampire feasts: bad memories. Taking too many victims is where the vamps made their mistake. If the Sidhe weren’t careful they would disappear, too.
“Well,” the fairy snapped. “You have your feast, give me my payment.”
The Sidhe wiped the corners of her mouth before speaking. “Why should I pay you, fairy? I have what I wanted. You should have taken payment first.”
“Do you think to cheat me? How many of us do you think would be interested in playing your game if we didn’t get to breed?”
“True enough. I suppose you are not so blinded by desire for offspring that you would play the odds.” She straightened and reached into her cloak, withdrawing a vial. “Here, you and your mate will need to ingest this before procreating. I will guarantee one child.”
With that the two separated, leaving the human body in the shadows. By the time he was found all traces of the poison would be gone. His convulsions would have left enough bruises to convince the authorities he was beaten to death.
Chapter Seven
“Olan, stop that.” I needed sleep, badly. Unfortunately, I needed to figure out how to fix whatever The Morrigan had done to Olan more. I couldn’t stop the Sidhe by myself.
I tried to get my patience back, but the bird kept bumping me with his head or with his wing. I know he wanted to tell me something but I couldn’t figure out what. I had my healing spell book open but couldn’t find anything about curing him.
Olan bumped my arm again. I slammed my hands down on the bench. “What! You know I am doing my best. I don’t know where to look. If you have any great ideas, find a way to tell me.” He jumped on my hand, the back of my hand, but I got the hint. He couldn’t fly or talk, but he could point and I could move him around. I held up my hand and walked over to the bookshelves. If there was anything in my place that would help it was on those shelves.
“Don’t damage my books. You peck my finger when we get close. Don’t peck my books. Do you hear me?” Olan stared at me with one beady eye then pecked my finger, hard. “Okay, point taken.”
I held him at the top shelf. “Do you know which book you want?” Olan nodded. “Okay, peck when we get to the shelf.” I lowered my hand slowly and Olan pecked half way down, he drew blood. This was not going to be fun.
My bookshelves ran the length of the wall. “Okay peck gently this time. I need my fingers. Is it closer to the left?” No peck. “The center?” No peck. “Okay, the right.”
A few pecks later, I held an old volume in my unpecked hand and a cloth to soak up the blood in my other. This volume had belonged to my great grandfather. The last time I remember it being open was at my father’s funeral. It contained random spells and speeches; there were maybe six hundred pages.
“There’s no index. I can’t let you find the spell because you’ll pick holes in the book. I
can’t let you pick any more holes in my fingers. What now?”
Olan spread his wings in a good impression of a shrug. I opened the book. The first page was covered in runes, a speech about the dangers of using most of what the book contained. I flipped gently through a few pages hoping fortune was willing to lend a hand. No such luck. Each spell and speech had a bold title and a sub heading that explained the use. After a minute, the writing started to blur and jiggle. I rubbed my eyes and it all settled for a second, then blurred again.
“It will take a while but I can read each one. I’m really tired, though. I need a nap.”
Olan ran over and pecked my hand. “Ouch, that didn’t help. Look, I know it must be bad for you, but I’m going to fall asleep in the book in about five minutes. Is the spell in the first few pages?”
He shook his head back and forth. “How do you know?” He continued to shake his head. “Oh, you mean you don’t know.”
He flapped his wings at me. “Half an hour, I just need a half hour nap. You can wake me up then if you don’t need to sleep.” I ignored his chirping and went upstairs to bed. Light was spilling in through the window, so I pulled the blackout shades and lay down fully clothed.
I woke up to the sound of breaking glass. I shot out of bed. There were dangerous things in bottles in my house.
Olan perched on the end of my bed. He opened his beak and I heard another bottle smash.
“Couldn’t you wake me with a nice sound?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked at the clock, an hour. Olan had let me sleep an hour. I guess I should be grateful. “Thanks.”
I was refreshed and I had an idea. I grabbed a glass of water and went downstairs.
“It will go faster if I can just read the titles.” I grabbed a big sheet of paper and a Sharpie. “I’m going to write the alphabet on here and you can peck out the letters.”
Olan hopped onto the bench and looked at me. I took that as agreement. “It’s mostly in English, do you know if the title is in English or Runic?”
Olan looked at me again.
“Oh, yeah. Okay, is it English?” Olan tapped his beak on the bench. I nodded and wrote the alphabet on the sheet, letters far enough apart so that he could tap them. “Go ahead.”
Olan started tapping letters and I wrote them down. “Slow down a bit. I don’t want to miss something.”
In less than a minute I had the title of one spell, Minimization of repercussions of punishment by Elementals. I guess it would have been clear when we found it. I laid the book open in the center, said the locater spell and flipped directly to the blue glowing page. It was three pages before the end of the book.
“Okay, almost there, Olan.”
I glanced down the list of ingredients and I had all of them except one – Olan’s blood. Now don’t get me wrong, I have done blood rituals before, they aren’t all black magic. But I wasn’t looking forward to taking Olan’s blood.
He was looking over the page with me. I pointed to the blood requirement. Olan stepped away from the pages and started pecking at his chest. A few blood drops hit the top of the bench. “That’s plenty.” I grabbed a brush and dabbed the pink liquid.
I wrote the spell on a scrap of paper and mixed the blood with rosemary. When I painted the rosemary mixture across the words, they faded. Then I used the brush to dab Olan’s beak and wings.
“Okay, did it work?”
Olan strutted back and forth then pronounced. “I can speak.”
“And fly?”
He flapped and got a bit of air. I hoped it didn’t mean I had failed. I needed my energy for solving the Sidhe problem. If I had to cast that spell again, I would need another nap. Maybe Olan had an unlimited supply of power, but I didn’t.
“What if you got a running start?” I pointed to the edge of the bench. “Jump and flap.”
“No, if I can’t fly, I don’t want to be breaking my leg.” Olan ruffled his feathers. “We should be thinking about stopping Fionuir.”
I crossed my fingers that he would find his flight soon. If he could only see the world from my shoulder or my ankles, it would be useless because I could see that much.
“Why didn’t you find a spell to turn you back to a pixie?” I was reluctant to admit my ignorance about elemental magic, but my curiosity outweighed my embarrassment.
“It is impossible.” Maybe it was because he was a chickadee and they tend to be happy all the time, but Olan didn’t seem concerned. “Best I can hope for is for it to wear off.”
I carried Olan over to the couch figuring we might as well get comfy while we plotted. A beer would be nice, but probably not helpful, so I grabbed a bottle of water and poured some into a saucer for Olan. Figuring he might be hungry, I offered to dig up some grubs. He shook his head.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Best we figure out two plans, or maybe more.”
“Contingencies are good. Did you have anything in mind?” I figured it was better to let Olan put the plan on the table and work with that than try to convince him my plan was better.
“I thought out two while you were snoring.” He flapped and got a bit more air. “I’m thinking we take a fairy and keep them until they answer questions. Maybe they know, maybe not. The other thought is, still to find a way to talk to Fionuir herself.”
‘You think she’ll agree to meet us?”
“Not us, you. I think she’ll be curious and feeling fairly safe. She won’t think you can do anything to her. And, that will be her downfall. She’ll let something slip if you are patient and careful.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Why would she tell us anything?”
“You forget how curious the Sidhe are. You can offer exchange of information; if you have anything to give. Or, you can get her angry. Have you ever seen an angry Sidhe?”
“I don’t think I have anything she will find interesting enough to exchange her secret for. Is an angry Sidhe, anything like an angry Crow?”
“No need for that, Quinn. But, yes, they get blind to the consequences of their actions. Fionuir will tell us something, we’ll just have to interpret it.”
I didn’t like the idea of making a Sidhe angry, especially Fionuir. “What about making that plan B? If we go to Fionuir first and it doesn’t work, it pretty much shuts down any other plan.”
“That is true. Well, what about taking a fairy? What do we want to know?”
“We know the Sidhe have the Gur amulet. We know there’s a potion to block the effects. We know the fairies are affected, but no one else, so far. We know the Sidhe, Fionuir’s Sidhe anyway are gathering power. We could use information on the location of the amulet.”
Olan flapped his wings again gaining three feet of air before floating back to the sofa. “You think a fairy might know where it is?”
“No, and if they did, it would be almost impossible to get that information out of them. Let’s look at this another way. If we knew what the antidote contained, we might be able to figure out how to cleanse the amulet when we found it. But that would mean another human dying.”
“That is likely to happen,” Olan said, his tone grave. “But it can’t be because we cause it. We are trying to save humans”
“Yes, Olan. I don’t want any more dead humans.” We may have different reasons but the outcome for the humans is the same. I don’t want them retaliating and Olan just has to protect them. “I can’t think of a way to get a sample without someone dying. So why don’t we put that under the ‘if we can’ column of plans. If we come across another killing that we can’t stop, we’ll capture the fairy and get a sample. It shouldn’t be too much of whatever that potion is, the fairy should be allowed to breed.”
“What if we knew how the fairy makes contact?” Olan ran toward the back of the couch, making the top by flapping his wings and digging his talons into the leather. He jumped and flapped a graceful landing on the floor.
“It looks like you just have to have patience and you’ll learn to fly. Don’t hurt y
ourself while trying.” I shifted so I was lying on the couch and thought through his question. It was a good idea. If we could catch the Sidhe who was running the contact, we might be able to get some of the potion without the cost of a human life. I had a feeling we were running out of time for this to go unnoticed.
I turned my attention back to Olan. He was managing to fly from the floor to the window ledge and back without losing control.
Chapter Eight
We waited until dark and then headed for a section of the park where the nightshade fairies built their homes.
We stood in the shadow of a large pine. The nightshade patch was about forty feet away. I could see the fairies dancing around a small fire.
“It looks like the mating caught.” I said to Olan. Fairies knew when they were pregnant within minutes. “Let’s hope it encourages another pair to try.”
“It will. You know nightshades. They are happy to jump on any opportunity to mate.” Olan fluttered down from a branch. Throughout the evening he had been trying to fly from higher and higher points. He had managed to take off from a running start and flapped around for short distances, but no sustained flight, yet. I hoped he was successful soon. I hated to think of spending the rest of my life with Olan flying up and down everywhere I went.
“You should give it a rest. If you wear out your wings, you’ll put your progress back days.”
“That’s good advice, wizard.” He made it to my shoulder and I could hear his breath laboring.
“You sound a bit out of shape.” I tried not to snicker, but it just came out.
He pecked my ear. “Stop being insolent and watch the fairies. That pair by the pond are up to something.”
I leaned sideways and saw two nightshade fairies standing just on the edge of the light. They were too far away to hear, but the body language was clear. She was telling him to get going. He was holding something in his hand, something small and shiny. “That’s gold in his hand. Okay I guess we have our target. That is unless they are planning something else.”