by Phil Stern
“They came at me fast, from behind the house,” the enchantress gasped, carefully easing herself back to the ground once more. “I didn’t have time to plan anything fancy. So I just threw a little twister at them.”
She was referring to a miniature tornado unleashed at ground level. While quite powerful, such spells were also notoriously erratic. Indeed, Tiffany now noticed the manor home itself had been half-destroyed, with jagged gashes, a collapsed corner, and broken lumber spread all around.
“Well, it worked.” Despite herself, Tiffany winced as her accompanying unicorns methodically finished off the dazed and wounded men. Apparently sated, the tigers were content to just watch. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that.”
“What? And miss the chance to show off like that?” Trying to make herself comfortable, she awkwardly leaned back on one elbow. “That transport spell was a beaut.”
“Yeah, well, remind me never to do it again.” Still a touch dizzy, Tiffany’s finger brushed her still-overheated earth stone. “Speaking of beauts, where’s Caylee?”
Right on cue, the two magicians saw Tornado emerge from the near forest, soon followed by Caylee and two cats. Sighing, Sarina nodded down at Jenla. “Maybe we should take care of her before she gets back.”
With a terse nod, Tiffany bent down over their dead Coven-mate. Touching Jenla’s earth stone with one hand, and grabbing her own talisman with the other, she mentally formulated the appropriate spell.
A few moments later there was a bright surge of earth fire from Jenla’s stone. When it receded her body was gone. The earth stone itself, still on it’s chain, now lay in the bare grass.
“I guess we can’t even have a ceremony for her, can we?” Sarina dully asked. “After all, she never really existed here.”
“Not to mention that Jenla’s younger self is still quite alive.” Picking up the stone, Tiffany idly starred into it’s deep, marred surface. “I’m guessing a wake for your older self might be a tad upsetting for a ten-year-old.”
By this point Caylee’s little party was fast approaching. Striding straight up to her Coven-mates, the blonde sorceress gave a firm nod. “Lady Wendily sent them. Apparently all the other demons have skipped town, leaving her in charge.”
“Wendily?” Sarina repeated. “The same one who went to great lengths to kidnap you?”
“The very same,” she confirmed. “But we need to move. Peck was playing for time. That can only mean Wendily herself is on the way.”
“Not likely.” Tiffany vaguely nodded back at the bodies near the wrecked house. “At least, not until her minions have softened us up a bit more.”
“And what of Peck?” Taking a deep breath, Sarina staggered to her feet again. “I take it you sent him to whatever passes for the afterlife in these parts?”
“Yes.” Coolly looking from one Coven-mate to another, Caylee gave a firm nod. “It’s done.”
“Good.” Tiffany inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Then it’s time to go. Are the tigers ready to get everyone over to Lysandy?”
“They are, but here’s the thing.” Staring at the far horizon, Caylee veritably brimmed with suppressed power. Tossing her head to one side, wisps of earth fire spiraled off in the light breeze. “This can’t go unanswered. We need to retaliate for Jenla.”
Sarina frowned. “You mean, you do.”
“That’s right.”
“No.” Tiffany pointedly held her gaze. “You are vacating this dimension and reporting back to Haven. Immediately.”
“Just hear me out.” Taking a step back, she held up a gloved hand. “If Wendily gets away with this, then the demons will only think...”
“By the stone, Caylee,” Sarina wearily interrupted. “Enough, already.”
“But I really think...”
“Out of the question.” In a snappy burst of earth fire, Tiffany put on her own long black gloves. “You, Sarina, and the whole zoo here are teleporting back to Lysandy. You will then get your wounded Coven-mate back to Haven. No arguments. Those are your orders. End of story.”
Stiffening, Sarina turned to the tall brunette. “And what about you?”
“I’m staying here to cover your retreat.” Following a larger magical eruption, Tiffany was now fully clothed in tactical black, earth stone snugly enmeshed on her belt. “Now go, both of you. Before more soldiers arrive.”
For a stunned moment no one said anything. Catching the sudden tension, Tornado trotted up to protectively rub against Tiffany. Lightly stroking his neck, she calmly considered her two companions.
“If you’re staying, then I’m staying!” Caylee finally exploded. “There’s no way...”
“Is this really necessary?” Sarina interjected. “They can’t follow us between dimensions.”
“Actually, they can.” Waiting for their full attention, Tiffany continued in a level voice. “No, not from this field here. But Wendily knows you both came from the same city lake. They’ve interrogated enough danders to know it leads to an undeveloped world called Lysandy. Even if they don’t know all the details...”
“They could mount a pursuit,” Sarina concluded. “Twenty men with even low-tech diving tanks could make it.”
“Or a hundred. Or maybe a thousand.” A poignant shrug. “I’d have a much easier time disrupting all that here, before Wendily’s expedition leaves, than after they reach Lysandy.”
“But how will you get out of here?” Even as she spoke, Sarina again winced and held her side. “If we’re taking the tigers...”
“I have Jenla’s time stone.” Tiffany made as if she were patting her invisible travel bag. “I can make my way back.”
“No way. You think I’m running away while you stay here and fight?” Eyes flashing, Caylee shook her head. “No fucking way.” Growling in agreement, Pend twirled around her legs before playfully tumbling down onto gleaming black boots.
“Listen to me. Very carefully.” Walking up to her, Tiffany put a hand on Caylee’s shoulder. “Sarina is badly injured. Hostile forces are closing in.”
“But that’s even more reason...”
“This Lysandy is a violent place, right?” she pointed out. “Who better to transit it with a wounded comrade then you?”
Frowning, Caylee rolled the squirming tiger off her feet. “But it just seems...”
“You know the dimension, and can work better with the unicorns and battle hawks than anyone. Not to mention your special relationship with our feline friends here.” Backing off, Tiffany glanced down at the now-sulking cub. “Your orders stand. Take Sarina over to Lysandy and make your way back to Haven.”
The faint sound of clanking metal and clopping horses blew over the field. The tigers rose up, sniffing the air. Tails swishing, the unicorns let out indignant snorts.
“The demons are our enemies, not these men they’re sending at us. Let’s do them a favor.” Tiffany nodded at the big cats. “Teleport out of here before they’re forced to attack us.”
For a moment no one spoke a word. Gently nudging Tiffany’s shoulder, Tornado let out a plaintive bugle.
“I’ll be fine, you.” Smiling, she fully hugged the strong unicorn neck. “I love you too.”
Caylee kicked at a tuft of grass. “Tornado says he wants to stay with you.”
“Well, he can’t.” With a final kiss on the nose, Tiffany stood back. “Now go. All of you.”
The unicorns were the first to go over, magical tigers crouching on their backs. Immediately popping back, two of the huge cats rubbed up against Sarina from either side, teleporting her in tandem to help reduce the shock.
Glumly watching this magical exodus, Caylee hesitantly approached the senior sorceress once more. “Look, you don’t have to...”
“You have your orders.” Tiffany’s tone brooked no argument. “Report back to Haven. Your debrief should include nothing about me, Jenla, or time travel. The story is that Sarina found you, was wounded, and you both left the dimension.”
“All right,�
� she softly agreed. “But let me just say...”
“Report to me on Earth in exactly five days.” Half-turning about, Tiffany listened to the growing sounds of approaching soldiery. “Now go, before...”
Surprisingly, the younger woman lunged forward, embracing her in a tight hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
Initially stiffening, Tiffany then put her arms around Caylee’s shoulders, blonde hair brushing her cheek. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” she whispered. “We’ll talk later. Now go.”
Moments later Caylee, Pend, and the final tiger winked from view, leaving Tiffany alone in the alien field.
Brushing spare grass from her gleaming boots, the sounds of approaching soldiers grew louder. An exploratory magical pulse detected large masses of metal on wheels. Cannon, most likely, or perhaps even something more advanced. Now on the main road approaching the manor, the attacking force would be here in just a few minutes.
Jogging over to the home itself, Tiffany sent angry surges of earth fire into the partially collapsed structure. Flowing from earth stone through her chest and down one arm, the sorceress directed a partially strong burst through a wide window. Coalescing into a minor fire ball within the downstairs parlor, the entire first floor nearly exploded in green flame.
Withdrawing several steps, she felt a tiny stab of shame. Arson definitely wasn’t her thing, though the now-merrily burning house should help cover their retreat. The fire would also destroy any evidence of their own time there. Surely her Coven-mates had been careful about such things, but in their hasty departure, you never knew.
Tying back her hair, she took a final look down at the picturesque field. Just yesterday she’d enjoyed such a pleasant evening here. Now it was covered with dead bodies and the scars of battle. With a thick pall of smoke roiling down over the grass and trees, it seemed like a different place entirely.
Well, if there was one thing Tiffany had learned in her decade traveling the universe, it was that things could change quickly. Indeed, adaptability to changing circumstances was an essential operational skill. With any luck, Caylee had now taken this hard lesson to heart.
Retreating behind a nearby barn as the first men came into view, the enchantress was soon on her way back to the city.
*****
Carefully threading his way through the forest, Max eventually hit a narrow trail. Dressed in a brand new “field” outfit, complete with tall boots, top hat, and long-tailed coat, the dapper Lord Osler sauntered along the dirt path towards the remote manor home. A short time later the demon’s trail merged with several others to form a picturesque clearing.
Off to one side, majestically positioned upon a friendly bench, was a detached human head. Fascinated, Max bent down to stare into the lifeless eyes of a once-handsome, lower-class youth. Peck was his name, if he remembered correctly. “From The Coven” was etched in large, confident handwriting to one side, no doubt applied with a precise application of earth fire.
Long known to the constabulary, this Peck had been a reputed local agitator of some note. At one time he’d actually been on the Police Commissioner’s payroll, providing tidbits on his fellow collaborators. During other periods the bobbies had actually taken stuffed envelopes from him, payoffs for tolerating Peck’s growing criminal empire. All in all a useful asset, according to the confidential reports regularly provided to the Lord’s Conclave.
But that was then. In recent months this Peck had garnered delusions of grandeur, culminating in yesterday’s bombing in Highsmith Square. Since Caylee was known to be in on the job, it was now suspected his crew had been harboring the witch for over a fortnight.
Straightening up, Max thoughtfully ran his cane along the wooden back of the bench. So, Wendily’s grand plan had been to use this non-entity to get at Caylee? Obviously the beautiful sorceress had been using the young rebel for her own ends. Did his fellow demon imagine it had been the other way around? How could that be, when Caylee was obviously the most divine blend of cunning and magic the universe had ever seen!
Dropping down to his knees, cheek pressed into her elegant note burned into the wood, there was the faintest residue of empowered feminine perfection. Eyes pressed shut, Max could almost feel Caylee’s smooth skin on his, the light in her eyes warming his very soul. Someday they would be together, and then...
Quivering in excitement, he staggered up and somehow managed to drop his pants. Pleasuring himself took only a few energetic moments, the violence of his final release leaving the young lord drained and bewildered. Falling to his knees in confusion, he simply collapsed backwards in the dirt and twigs, laughing up at the tender leaves high above.
Oblivious, Peck’s sightless eyes stared out at the surrounding forest, where even now a busy squirrel was poking about in the leaves on the other side of the clearing.
*****
Tiffany’s long walk back into town occupied most of the afternoon. Even with hundreds of men scouring the countryside, the military search was clumsy and generally inept. Requiring only minor applications of evasion magic, they failed to mar what was otherwise a very pleasant hike.
While lacking Caylee’s excessive affinity for nature, she still managed to attract her fair share of friendly companions. At one point a deer ambled beside her in the thick woods, while an inquisitive young hawk occasionally swooped about. Thoughtfully studying the local wildlife, she realized most species were almost indistinguishable from those on Earth.
As the forest thinned and the roads became more prominent, the enchantress changed into the drab clothes of an older washerwoman. Shuffling along in the dust with a basket of dirty clothes, she attracted even less attention than before. Darting from the path of cantering patrols on several occasions, the soldiers bestowed no more than an irritated, passing glance.
Donlon itself was in an uproar. Bobbies backed by soldiers manned every corner, loudly announcing a nine o’clock curfew. Violators would be jailed without question. Unusually light to begin with, the remaining foot traffic was quickly thinning out.
Still, it wasn’t even six yet. With time to spare, Tiffany wandered through several packed taverns. Like Sarina before her, the undercover operative was able to pull some very useful intelligence from the mass of rumor and exaggeration.
Supposedly a massive early morning battle had resulted in the decimation of nearly an entire army regiment. Still, over twenty witches had been slain, with the rest sent fleeing for their lives. In their desperation, the retreating crones had torched homes and executed innocent prisoners throughout the countryside.
Despite an entire day of searching, however, the “entire lot” was now gone. Believing the witches to have fled through a heretofore unknown “dander hole,” an elite military unit was preparing an inter-dimensional pursuit.
“They know where they originally popped up from, they do!” declared an inebriated man in the third bar she visited. “Nellon Park! The lake there!”
“Nasty lot, they is,” mumbled another customer. “Burning and bombing all day long. Don’t blame all them Lords for sailing off until they’re gone, I don’t.”
“The army boys have it all under control,” assured a third speaker. “When the lads catch up with them in whatever stinking swamp they slunk off to, the old hags won’t stand a chance.”
“Donlon is for proper folk, not them nasty witches,” opined a barmaid. “I say wipe ‘em all out!”
“That’s what the good Lady Wendily intends, she does!” With a loud belch, a drunk in an unbuttoned military tunic raised a slopping mug. “She’s in full charge, the girl is! Sits in the big office in Highsmith Square pretty as you please, telling them old farts what’s what!”
“So when’s the big expedition diving in the Nellon lake dander hole then?” challenged the first speaker. “Seeing as you know everything and all!”
“Tomorrow night.” Putting a conspiratorial finger to his lips, the officer nearly slid to the floor. “Don’t tell nobody, but if the old crones don’t show t
heir ugly faces again by then, fifty of our best boys go in the drink!”
“Fancy that!” laughed the barmaid. “Who wants another round?”
Sliding out the back door unnoticed, Tiffany casually strolled about the neighborhood, twice doubling back on her own route. Satisfied she wasn’t being tailed, the sorceress entered a nearby lodging house. An extra coin pressed into the manager’s hand secured the last available room on the fourth floor.
This was high enough to thwart exterior attack, yet provided an enchantress easy egress both to the ground and surrounding roofs. After placing magical trip wires in the hall outside, and then carefully warding the locked door, she changed into sweats and a t-shirt. Laying on top of the worn covers, Coven Stick within reach on the night stand, she moodily stared up at the cracked and stained ceiling.
A Coven-mate had died today. No, this wasn’t the first operational loss she’d experienced. Nor was it likely to be her last. The universe could be a very cruel place, occasionally requiring tremendous sacrifice from those constantly testing it’s boundaries.
But it was almost as if Jenla had invited death, that she’d somehow welcomed Peck’s rough blade slicing through her neck. Frowning, Tiffany idly fingered her softly glowing earth stone. Perhaps, with the future inexorably altered, Jenla felt there was no home to return to? Or that she wouldn’t be permanently welcomed in this time line? How awful that must have been.
Rolling over, Tiffany Smith silently cried for several minutes, tears freely flowing into the old blanket. She was only dimly aware of a cat and dog mixing it up on the next rooftop over. From down below rough male voices barked for people to get off the streets, the clanging of several nearby bells announcing the curfew’s formal commencement. Sometime later a young woman strolled through the magical wire outside the room, quickly proceeding past her door and down the hall.
Finally sitting up, Tiffany rubbed her face with a long cuddly sleeve. In a place like this, she should have anticipated that prostitutes would be moving about all night. Actually, business must be booming. The curfew gave every man in Donlon the perfect justification for staying out all night.