A Meddle of Wizards

by Alexandra Rushe

  Raine shook her head. “And people say Gertie is a monster. Mister, you are a murdering freak.”

  “I killed no one. I had others do it.”

  “Too lazy?” It was stupid to taunt him, but Raine was too angry to care. This animal had murdered countless innocent people out of pride and spite.

  “Too interested in my own good,” said Glonoff. “My father, may he burn in Skelf, discovered my fondness for bloodshed when I was a lad, and cursed me.” He twisted the ruby ring on his finger. “I won’t bore you with the sordid details of my family drama, but, suffice it to say, the day I kill with my own hands is the day I become a drab.” He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with hate. “Me, a drab. Think of it.” His sensuous mouth curved in a vicious smile. “My beloved sire paid for his effrontery. But enough about me. Time to die, Rana.”

  “Wait,” Raine cried. Her toes were tingling. The feeling was returning to her body. “Your father . . . was he a wizard, like you?”

  Glonoff laughed. The cold, mirthless sound sent a shiver down Raine’s spine. “A wizard? The wizard never existed who could curse me and make it stick. My father was a god.”

  Was a god? Raine’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Your father was Xan.”

  “You really are a bright little thing,” said Glonoff. “Too bad fate has

  set us at odds.”

  “You mean the prophecy?”

  The thaw reached the top of Raine’s thighs, and the urge to move her legs was unbearable. She clenched her teeth, willing her itching limbs to stay still. If Glonoff guessed the spell was wearing off, it would be over. She had to keep him talking. When the thaw reached her arms, she’d make another grab for her wizard stone. Suicide, maybe, but it was her only chance.

  Glonoff seemed lost in memory. “Imagine my shock when my . . . er . . . sources informed me that two girls had been born that night, not one. Your father lied to me. Slipped you from the birthing bed and into the keeping of another, who whisked you away.”

  Someone had taken her to Earth? Of course, but who? Raine’s mind burned with questions. Questions that would remain unanswered unless she thought of something and quick.

  “I had such hopes for the Eye,” Glonoff continued, unaware of her racing thoughts. “It wasn’t long before I realized that your sister has the magical capacity of a chamber pot. That’s why I was utterly delighted to learn of your existence . . . at first. Such plans I had for you. I would rescue you from your drab existence, and take you into my keeping. The prophecy would be fulfilled, and the Eye mine to control, as it should be.”

  “Through me, you mean.” Raine lifted her chin. “Maybe I wouldn’t have let you.”

  Glonoff chuckled. “As if you could withstand me. Alas, my hopes were quickly dashed. Should you return to Tandara, I learned to my great distress, you would be my undoing. I’m sure you understand why I could not allow that to happen.”

  An awful foreboding settled in Raine’s bones. “When did you find out about me?”

  “I think it was when you were around four.” He waved a white hand. “Though I could be wrong. The years have a way of flowing together, if you live long enough.”

  “Four? That’s when your tried to kill me. The first time, I mean.”

  Glonoff sighed. “Yes. I thought the matter settled. I hoped, with you dead, that your sister’s talent would emerge. Alas, she remained an utter disappointment. A few moons ago, I learned that you had survived, and I hired a thief to steal the Eye. Couldn’t risk it falling into your hands. He lost it, the fool, but I take some comfort in that. I don’t have it, but then, neither does anyone else, including you.” He tilted his head, considering her. “I must say, I expected you to be more . . . impressive. I begin to wonder if I have been hasty. Perhaps my precautions were unnecessary. No offense, my dear, but you aren’t much of a wizard.”

  Raine took no notice of the insult. Hate and rage boiled inside her in a dizzying cocktail. The last vestiges of Glonoff’s immobility spell had worn off, and she clenched her fists. “You killed my parents that night on the bridge.”

  Glonoff raised his brows. “Haven’t you been listening, child? I didn’t murder your precious drabs. I sent someone in my stead.”

  He motioned and a tall, gaunt figure glided out of the trees, moving soundlessly above the forest floor. Grayish-brown in color, the thing had furry skin like a bat and an eyeless beaked head.

  “This is Xai,” Glonoff drawled. “Preen for her, Xai.”

  The thing unfurled its wings, sucking the light from the forest, from the world. Horror and recognition swept over Raine. It was the giant crow from the bridge.

  No, not a crow—that had been her childish mind’s way of making sense of what it saw. The reality was much worse.

  Raine screamed.

  “Ah, good,” Glonoff said with a pleased smile. “I see you remember my demon. He bears you no fondness, I am afraid. He was punished quite severely for failing me. Did you know that a demon cannot bear the sound of bells? No? Or that the sound of a lyre and an innocent child’s song burns them like acid? I repeated your name to him with every stroke of the bell, with each tender verse. You can be certain that Xai remembers you. He failed me once and you lived. I think he will not fail me again. Farewell, my dear.”

  Glonoff slipped the ruby ring from his finger. Tossing it into the leaves, he disappeared.

  Chapter 43

  Treasure in the Cave

  The demon swooped down the slope and knocked Raine off her feet. She slammed onto her back, the air exiting her lungs with an audible whoosh. She caught a brief glimpse of the pale winter sun shining through the leafy branches before the demon was upon her.

  “Raaine.”

  Raine’s heart stuttered. It was the chilling whisper from the fog.

  “Time to die, Raine Stewart,” the demon hissed.

  The demon settled on her like an enormous carrion bird. Blocking out light and hope and warmth, the demon crushed her beneath its suffocating weight. Gasping for breath like a beached fish, Raine fumbled for her wizard stone. Sharp talons bit into her flesh, and the stone slid from her palm. Despair, sharper than the searing pain from the wounds, settled into her bones. Cold, she was so cold. She would never be warm again.

  Xai lowered its eyeless head and opened its cruel beak to devour her. A dulcet ripple of notes pierced the forest. Xai jerked in annoyance and shifted on top of Raine, sending a shaft of agony through her healing ribs. The pipe trilled again and the demon released her with an irritated hiss.

  “Be gone, wight,” the demon said, addressing the piper in the wooded hills. “This one is mine.”

  Raine turned her head. Through bleary eyes, she saw something flit through the trees, a watery shape that danced and wafted, weaving through the shadows like a school of fish in a milky sea. The shadow shimmered and dissolved, and Raine beheld a most curious thing. Tall and silvery green, and thin as a young sapling, the strange creature had gnarled legs that ended in roots, long arms, and slender six-fingered hands. He was naked, with skin like textured bark, and a large, bovine head and lumpy jaw. A mass of pale tubers writhed atop his head.

  Unperturbed by the demon’s menace, the piper regarded Xai with enormous eyes. “Leave her.” His deep voice was mellifluous. “Slake your appetite elsewhere, fiend.”

  “She is mine, Old One,” the demon said. “Abandon her or else.”

  The piper laughed, a sound as pleasant as a babbling brook. “Or else what? These are my woods. They were mine long before your master was born. They will be mine still when Glonoff is dust. Be gone.”

  To Raine’s astonishment, he folded his lips into a long flute and played a merry tune. The demon screeched and flapped its wings.

  “Away with you and do not return,” the willowy piper said. “You sully my forest with your foul stench.”

  He whistled again, sharp
and insistent, and Xai dissolved in a burst of foul smoke.

  Raine tried to sit up, but she was too dizzy and sick. She slumped to the ground, limp as a dishrag.

  The twiggy fellow bent over her. “The demon has drained you nigh unto death.” Breaking off two of the wriggling tubers on his head, he pressed the stalks to her lips. “Drink, and be restored.”

  Raine opened her mouth to protest, and he squirted a stream of watery juice down her throat. She coughed and sputtered. The liquid made her mouth and throat tingle, and it tasted like dirt and green things.

  “Gack,” Raine said, trying to sit up once more. “Look, mister, thanks for saving me, but you can’t go around—” She swayed. “Whoa, what’s happening?”

  The prickling spread from her scalp to her toes. Warmth zinged through her veins, dispelling the demon cold and gloom.

  The piper regarded her with a grave expression. “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Raine hiccupped. “What did you give me?”

  “Hmm,” he burbled like a kettle overflowing, and pursed his pliable lips. “Essence of me, I suppose. I see you wear a wizard stone. You are an adept?”

  “Baby wizard.” Raine gave him a woozy grin. She was floating on a cloud of feel-good. Whatever he’d dosed her with had made her high as a kite. “Still got a lot to learn.”

  “Child, I am older than these hills and there are things I do not know. Your name, for instance.”

  Raine’s drunken smile widened. “I’m Raine.”

  “Greetings, Raine. In Trolk my name is Skorrgamgrogskyttrsplok, which means Old-Green-Forest-Dweller. Men know me as Shadow. Goggins call me Tall Man. You may call me Squeak. It’s what my mother called me, bless her root and twig. Shall we be off?”

  “I don’t know. Are we going somewhere?”

  “You came into these woods looking for something, did you not?”

  “Yes, a little boy named Chaz, but he’s not here. Glonoff tricked me.”

  “That is not the something I mean,” Squeak said. “I speak of the hatchling. Almost, I was tempted to answer its piteous cry.”

  “You heard it too? I thought it was Glonoff.”

  “Nooooo,” Squeak gurgled. “This is something else entirely. Time, I think, the two of you met.”

  Squeak bent and lifted her in his knurled arms. Ignoring her yelp of protest, he set off, moving through the woods at breakneck speed. Uphill and down he went, his root-like appendages grasping ground and rock. As he rambled along, a stream of noise issued from his pliant lips: snaps, cracks, pops, squeaks, whistles, hums, hisses, barks and chirps, the trickle of water over rock, the sigh of wind through the trees, the creak and groan of wood in the icy grip of winter, and the chilly flow of sap in spring. In short, the sounds of the forest.

  Squeak’s elixir had banished her pain, but Raine was very tired and Squeak’s rocking gait and bubbling song soon lulled her to sleep. How long or how far he trundled her through the woods, Raine did not know, but when she woke, she felt rested and refreshed. She yawned and looked around. Squeak had stopped at the entrance to a gorge overhung with twisted oaks. Water seeped from the rocks and formed a shallow pool on one side. At the far end of the canyon, two gigantic fir trees bracketed a dark hole in the cliff wall.

  “Ah, you are awake.” Squeak pointed a long, gnarly finger at the sinister opening in the rocks. “You will find the hatchling in yon cave.”

  “Is it safe for us to go in there?” Raine asked. “I mean, are there things inside?”

  “If by ‘things,’ you mean goggins, then most assuredly no,” Squeak said, “but I will not accompany you. This is a task for you, and you alone.” He cocked his long head, the tubers on his head swirling in alarm. “Intruders in the forest. Friends of yours, the trees say. I will meet them and tell them that you are unharmed.” He stiffened. “What is this? Dear me, this won’t do.”

  He dumped Raine unceremoniously on the ground and clomped away.

  “Wait,” Raine cried. “Come back. Don’t leave me.”

  But Squeak was gone.

  Morrrrven.

  The lonely cry echoed from inside the cave. Raine stiffened and backed away. “No, I’m not going in there. No way.”

  Morrrrven.

  The pitiful wail made Raine’s heart ache. “Damn,” she muttered. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  She trudged into the canyon, skirting the edge of the small pool, and climbed up the rocks to the hole in the side of the cliff. The shadowy hollow was, if anything, less appealing up close.

  “I’d go in there if I had a flashlight.” She patted her cloak pockets. “Oops, fresh out. Guess that means I don’t have to go into the creepy cave. Hate it, but there you go.”

  Her wizard stone blazed to life, emitting a steady blue light.

  “Thanks,” Raine said. “You’re a big help.”

  Gathering her courage, she climbed into the dank opening and got to her feet. Lifting her wizard stone like a lantern, she inspected the space. The cave was large and dry, with smooth walls and a high ceiling. It was also, thankfully, goggin-free, as Squeak had promised. She strode forward and halted in surprise when something crunched beneath her boot. She looked down. A large egg lay on its side, broken. Pieces of shell lay on the cave floor, and the nearby rocks were smeared with dried yolk. Using the light from her stone, she moved deeper into the cave and found three more shattered eggs. Raine frowned. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of the empty eggs made her sad.

  There was a rustle from behind a large rock on the far wall. Raine’s first instinct was to run like hell, but some strange compulsion kept her feet planted where they were. Cursing herself for her foolishness, she edged closer and held the wizard stone higher. The soft light jigged along the cave walls and made monsters in the shadows. Trembling, she peeked around the boulder. A small snake curled on a ledge beside a broken egg. The snake was jet black with a crested, wedge-shaped head that glistened like a Fabergé egg in jewel tones of red, blue, and green. No more than a foot long, the snake’s long snout ended in nostrils with narrow slits.

  Red-gold eyes with vertical pupils fastened on Raine. Morven?

  With a cry of delight, the snake sprang off the stone shelf and wrapped itself around Raine’s arm. This one waited and waited. Purring like a contented kitten, the snake slithered up her arm, and rested its head on her shoulder. This one thought you would never come.

  Raine did not move. Startled snakes bite, she told herself.

  Silly morven, do not be afraid. The snake gave Raine a dry kiss on the cheek. This one would never bite you.

  “I’m delighted to hear it,” Raine said out loud.

  This one heard morven’s thoughts. This one is a snake? This one did not know.

  “Yes, though I’m not sure what kind. I don’t know much about snakes.”

  Is morven a snake?

  “No, morven is human.”

  Then this one wishes to be human, too. The snake sounded forlorn. This one wants to be like morven.

  Raine felt sorry for the little guy. “What’s your name?” she asked, hoping to cheer him up.

  She knew the snake was a male, though she could not have said how.

  The snake was silent for a moment. This one does not know.

  “Well, ” Raine said. “I can’t go around calling you snake. What about Flame Tongue?”

  Flame is a good name. This one likes it.

  “I’m glad. My name is Raine.”

  Flame rubbed his snout across her cheek. You are not Raine. You are morven, morven, mor-r-r-r-ven.

  Raine laughed and stroked the snake’s burnished head. “Okay, okay. I’m morven.”

  Flame stiffened. Others, he said and slithered inside Raine’s cloak.

  Mimsie materialized on a rush of perfume. The ghost was clad in a rose-pink gown. Her brown hair was styled
in an up-do, with a few long curls left to brush her shoulders. A giant of a man was with her. His huge frame and forceful presence made the cave seem airless and tight. A sleeveless tunic of unbleached cloth exposed his bulging arms. Loose trousers of the same fabric covered his massive legs. He stood wide-legged, his sturdy feet encased in rough leather sandals. His dark hair was tied back with a piece of leather.

  “There you are.” Mimsie looked around the musty cave. “What in the world are you doing in here? I declare, Mary Raine. You are the oddest girl.”

  “It’s a long story,” Raine said. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Ronnie.” Mimsie’s eyes sparkled. “The one I told you about.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Raine said, addressing the bulldozer of a man.

  Ronnie regarded her with fathomless black eyes. Power emanated from him in waves. Ronnie wasn’t a ghost, but he wasn’t human either. A startling notion took root in Raine’s mind and grew.

  “Mimsie, is he— What I mean to say is . . .” Raine shook her head. No, surely not. That would be preposterous. But this was Mimsie. She blew out a breath. “Is Ronnie by any chance the god Kron?”

  “Why, yes, he is.” Mimsie smiled in delight. “See, Ronnie? Told you she was smart.”

  “But, Mims, you’re dead and he’s . . .” Raine made a helpless gesture. “Not.”

  “So?” Mimsie drew herself up. “I didn’t raise you to be narrow-minded, Mary Raine. We’re all energy in one form or another.” She nudged the goliath beside her. “Tell her, Ronnie. Tell her what you’ve figured out. You’re going to love this, Rainey. It’s brilliant.”

  “Your aunt has told me much of your suffering and travails,” Kron said in a ponderous deep voice. “Hark, I bring you the answer you long have sought.”

  Mimsie giggled. “Isn’t he a hoot? He’s saying he knows what ails you.” She made a face. “I mean, what used to ail you. Go on, Ronnie. You’re doing fine.”

  “Earth sickness,” the god said in his deep, shivery voice. “You are of Tandara. In your exile, your body rejected that other plane.”