The Fae's Amulet

by J F Posthumus

“I suppose you’re going to put me in the Ancient Stockade for a human lifetime or two,” Nick said, averting his eyes from the Council. “Do I get to make arrangements for my coven and property before I go or after I arrive?”

  The Ancient Stockade was the prison for all users of Magick energy. Dragons and gargoyles were incarcerated next to humans and other bipedal beings. There was a special chamber for those who had no physical form or an unusual one. At least one creature that looked like the biggest square of lime gelatin in the world was imprisoned there. The Stockade is housed deep below Mount Everest. The secondary Stockade is located behind the Taung Kalat Monastery, in Burma.

  “You are not going to the Stockade,” the Speaker corrected him. While she continued to explain his fate, Sterling stepped forward, his hands moving in a graceful pattern as he wove energy together. “You will not be removed from this city, or even this dwelling, by any of the Council. The members of your coven will not be punished by this governing body, nor will we hold them accountable for your misdeeds.”

  Nick looked as if he had just scratched off a winning lottery ticket.

  “Such mercy!” he said excitedly. “Thank you, thank you all for—”

  “The ability to use Magick in any way shall be stripped from you for a period of no less than five years,” the Speaker announced. A cold smile accompanied her words.

  Sterling brought his hands apart in a quick, tearing gesture. Nick began groaning and crying as the roots began to change back into his legs. As his legs and feet were reforming, Nick cried out “no,” over and over. Sterling swung his hands down in a vicious arc. Red pulsing energy dotted with flecks of green and black surrounded Nick.

  Nick turned his attention toward Sterling, and he began to beg. Sterling paid no attention, drawing his hands together slowly. I could sense the life force and energy being drawn out of Nick, while the red aura seemed to get denser.

  Even though Nick was a con man, I felt a little sympathy at his begging. It wasn’t just his ability to cast spells that was being stripped from him. That would have been bad for anyone accustomed to having that gift. But he would no longer be able to use Magickal items or communicate with anything Magickal. Even the ability to see anything Magickal would be stripped.

  The closest comparison I could make for a mundane was spending a lifetime with perfect vision then, all at once, losing the ability to see colors, depth, and clarity with no hope of corrective lenses or surgery. That being would know there was so much more but would be unable to see clearly or interact with anyone or anything they’d once known.

  Now, I pondered Nick’s punishment, partly because it gave me satisfaction, but also because his begging was getting annoying. His coven would be broken. Every member would feel as though something vital was being ripped out of their bodies, and most of them would not realize they were losing what Nick had given them via the dragon’s blood—the power and ability to use energy as Magick, and to recognize and communicate with Magickal beings and objects in varied amounts.

  Any protections or blessings would be gone. Anything that Nick owned or was beholden to him in any way would be affected. Any income he received from his followers, or by Magickal means, would dry up immediately. If he only had this house because it was veiled from the mundanes, the neighbors would suddenly have a house where there had been nothing before, and tax collectors would be knocking on the front door, looking to collect money.

  In short, he was probably losing everything.

  Nick was too lazy to do things without Magick. He was proud he didn’t have to earn mundane money the mundane way or obey their laws. I doubted any of his harem would stick around once he could give them nothing more than sweet words.

  Sterling raised his hands, palms upward, level with his mouth, and blew. The red aura flew away from Nick, and the black and green flecks burst. Nick screamed long past the few seconds it took for every bit of it to disappear. The Council teleported out of the room as he crumpled to the floor, still screaming and growing hoarse from the effort.

  “Damn, they really sacked him,” Dirk said. He stood at the entrance to the room, holding a stack of two dozen vinyl albums. “Y’all take care. I’ve got my records, and I’m outta here.”

  Sterling and I watched him leave. Once we were alone with the weeping pile of man child, I turned to the Consigliere.

  “Care to take a lady home and help her wash this evening’s grime off? Perhaps distract her from remembering any of this?”

  “If I were only available to do so,” Sterling said with a deep sigh. “The Council will require me for most of the evening, unfortunately.”

  It looked like I would be spending the rest of the evening alone or with my pet skull.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took a few seconds for my brain to register that my wards were gone after I teleported home. They weren’t broken or bypassed; they were missing completely. My mundane home security system had, however, been turned off and not simply melted or fried.

  The reason it took a while to register was that I was debating whether I wanted to sulk with a pint of ice cream or a large box of chocolates.

  Damn it. Sterling was getting under my skin, and I wasn’t certain I hated it.

  I didn’t allow my attention to remain on my current lover, though, not when there was a very imposing figure watching me from the sofa in my living room. Flicking my fingers, I called forth light; enough of it so it looked like a brilliant summer’s day in the middle of my room. It didn’t remain that bright for long. Instead it dimmed to resemble a slightly overcast day. There was plenty of light to reveal any shadows, but it was no longer bright enough to blind my unexpected visitor.

  The intruder looked nonplussed and unbothered by the sudden burst of light. The dark skin below his sharp nose split into a wide smile of not-quite-white teeth. His orange eyes twinkled and fixed on me. Long silver hair surrounded his handsome but sinister face, and his ears were pointed and prominent. He sat quite contentedly on my couch, his black and purple robe flowing around him.

  The robe kept my attention for a bit longer than it should have, but that was only because it was an actual robe, worn by a true wizard. I’m not talking about the lame fantasy robes that resembled bathrobes. His robe closely resembled those found in fantasy art.

  It was voluminous, elegant, and tailored to fit him. The robe was not machine crafted. I’d lived during a time when clothing was sewn by hand, and the fabric, which appeared softer and silkier than any I’d ever seen, hadn’t been touched by a sewing machine. Part of me wanted to touch it and ask what sort of fabric it was, but I wasn’t stupid or awestruck.

  I’d ask Maekyl about it later, though.

  “This is a very comfortable couch.” The elf’s voice was deep and confident, perhaps even amused. “Your decor is also enjoyable. Did you get your tastes from your mother or father?”

  “Glad you enjoy it,” I retorted dryly. “My decor tastes come from both. Xantos, I presume?”

  He certainly fit the description—powerful, elf, dark-skinned, handsome, and arrogant. He was probably a pain in the ass, too.

  “I am,” he acknowledged. “My intrusion upon your time will be brief. I have a business proposal.”

  I shrugged. “Brief or long, it matters little to me.” I only said that because Sterling wasn’t going to be showing up anytime soon, but he didn’t need to know that. “What is your proposal?”

  “Quite simply, I wish to purchase your skull,” was his casual reply.

  Oh, hell. He was the one who had emailed me about buying Maekyl. Or, perhaps he was here for a different skull. It wasn’t likely, but it never hurts to be certain.

  “Which one? I have several, not including the one attached to my body.”

  “I’m not here to negotiate for possession of your skull…yet,” Xantos said in a cordial tone. “Tonight, I am interested in the one containing the essence and consciousness of a very, very old dragon.”

/>   I hate being right sometimes.

  “I’m rather fond of my skull, thanks, so it isn’t up for sale,” I retorted. “As for that skull? I have two questions for you. How did you learn of his existence? And who told you I was in possession of it?”

  “The dragon, Maekyl, and I are old acquaintances.” Xantos smiled again. “Sometimes we were allies, often adversaries, but we always had challenging and entertaining times. It’s taken me a while to track down what is left of him. After your father trapped Maekyl’s essence, I tried to communicate with him. He finally answered.”

  That son of a bitch. I was going to kill him. Permanently this time. Or perhaps give him back to my father after telling him what Maekyl had been doing, and who he’d been contacting. I drew a breath and let it out slowly, refusing to allow my temper to show, or at least not show a lot.

  “Did he? I suppose I’ll have to have a long discussion with him about that,” I said pleasantly. “Maekyl is not for sale. He was a gift from my father, and I’m rather fond of him.”

  “Perhaps we could negotiate visitations, then?” Xantos continued. His smile and cold joviality hadn’t changed one bit, and I wanted to punch him hard for it.

  “I’ll need time to consider,” I replied.

  It was unlikely I’d go along with him, but there was no harm in conferring with those far wiser and older than me, right? There was no way I was going to answer him without first conferring with my father, mother, and Sterling, though not necessarily in that order.

  “That is a reasonable response, especially from one so young,” said Xantos as he stood. “I shall not enter your quarters again, uninvited, unless you take too long to come to a decision.”

  “I have one final question for you,” I stated, a sly smile on my lips. At his nod, I continued. “Why do you want the Eye of Amon?”

  Xantos’ eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but I didn’t get rid of the smile on his face, unfortunately.

  “There is one other being in this world I would trust to keep the amulet in a manner befitting the power and responsibility it holds. Present company is, unfortunately, excluded.” He seemed to be neither gleeful nor sad to say that last part. “Depressingly, that one has wasted millennia upon millennia gathering, coaching, and ultimately dismantling councils and courts of Magick to avoid the responsibility of guiding the world. I have no such compulsions. Therefore, I seek to take possession of that which I helped make, and ultimately am solely able to control.”

  I stared at him a few moments before blinking a few times. “You helped make the Ilygad Amon?” I asked, disbelief and shock ringing in my voice.

  “I have been a part of, or made, many of the objects you’ve sought in your lifetime, Catherine.” Xantos stopped smiling and bowed shortly. “You may find I am more interesting company than those around you want you to believe.”

  “I’m intrigued,” I stated, not bothering to hide my curiosity. “I also wouldn’t argue that you are a very interesting being, Xantos. I suspect you constantly keep those around you on their toes.” Probably at their wit’s end, too, not that I’d say that out loud.

  My biggest problem with Xantos was that I was starting to like him. He was elegant, dangerous, mysterious, and he apparently enjoyed bantering. And he was powerful and very deadly. I suspected he would be one hell of an instructor in my discipline, not that I was certain I’d want to learn from him. Browse his tomes and such? Definitely. Be his student? Not so much.

  “When you can pull yourself away from…” Xantos chuckled, “Sterling, or whatever form the old fool is showing himself as these days, contact me and we shall discuss whatever topics you wish. I am not trying to flirt with you. You’re far too young for me. Beautiful and darkly sweet you are, but I have no interest in anyone with less than a thousand years behind them. I prefer two thousand, actually. They require less education.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I studied the dark-complexioned elf before me. My lips kept trying to twitch into a smile, but somehow, I managed to keep it off my face. “Reading my thoughts, sir?”

  “Mind reading is tiresome and often boring. It removes all challenge,” he replied easily. “At your age and level of development, you’ll theorize that most people desire you. But you lack enough experience to know which ‘thrills’ are folly and which will actually cause personal growth. I share your parents’ faith that you will live long enough to sort out such trivialities.”

  Laughing softly, I shook my head. “What is the best way to contact you? I find it difficult to believe you prefer email over other forms of communication.”

  “I rather like email. It’s the latest version of the telegram, which I found so charming and quaint when this world invented it,” Xantos replied. He flapped the arm of his left sleeve, and when his hand emerged from the opening, it held a large, translucent crystal that had a slight purple hue.

  “Take this. It’s a communication crystal. This only contacts me. No, it’s not a medieval spy cam.” He looked at me and smirked. “I may have read your mind for that part.”

  Blushing, I laughed and accepted the crystal. “Thank you. I would enjoy the opportunity to speak with you, Xantos. There aren’t many necromancers in the world, and the ability to talk with you would be a delight and honor.”

  After he placed the crystal in my palm, he closed my fingers over it, turned my hand over, and lifted it to his lips before kissing it. There was an odd sensation of warmth, then cold when he did so. As he pulled away, he paused to look more closely at the ring I wore.

  “A chastity ring. I would recognize the spell anywhere,” he said as his eyes met mine. “Weaved quite a few of those spells in my time, not that my relatives always appreciated them or the unique jewelry I attached them to.”

  “They work far better than more human and mundane methods,” I replied, not looking away. “It was a gift, and I’ve always appreciated it.”

  “Admirable,” Xantos commented. He took two steps back from me and bowed again. “Until next we meet.”

  There were no theatrics, light, or smoke as he teleported out. He was simply there, and for a brief moment I could feel staggering amounts of energy building in him, then he was gone. Bare traces of the energy he’d used could be felt, but they were gone in another heartbeat.

  Damn.

  The rumors of his skill and the power he could tap weren’t exaggerations. I wondered if he and Sterling had ever dueled, but I pushed the thought away for now.

  I had a skull to yell at.

  * * *

  Leaving the crystal on Ahndray, I headed for my basement. Yelling at Maekyl was at the top of my to-do list.

  Maekyl appeared asleep when I stormed into my basement. The insufferable jerk. I knew he wasn’t asleep because he was as vain as a cat. Anytime his name was spoken, he was awake and alert, eagerly listening to the conversation.

  “Don’t bother pretending you’re asleep, Asshole,” I snarled as I stopped in front of him. “What the bloody hell do you think you were doing, contacting Xantos? I should call my father, tell him what you’ve been up to, and give you back to him! Either that, or I should destroy you, permanently! What the ever-loving fuck, Maekyl?”

  “He’s been calling to me for months, actually,” Maekyl said. “I am often bored and somewhat lonely down here. A familiar voice and shared experiences became difficult to resist.”

  “You could have said something,” I snapped. “Xantos is an intriguing necromancer I’d probably kill to learn from, but he’s also insanely powerful! There is no way in all the hells I’d sell you to someone who could easily set you free, then sit back and watch the chaos you’d create!” He’d probably be munching on a bag of popcorn, I added silently. “The arrogant sod not only bypassed my wards but removed them. Now I have to redo them!”

  What was it with everyone wanting to lay waste to my wards? Maybe I could get Sterling to help redo them.

  “I could help you reset and strengthen your wards, but that would require your admitting y
ou need help with something!” Maekyl argued. “You don’t let me out at all. I have no visitors. You only come down here when it suits you, and you come with demands! What did you expect me to do? Sit docile and be thankful for what you give me like a cuckold? Or, perhaps you fancy me more of a culled dog?”

  I opened my mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. He was right. I’d stopped keeping him out in the open after my reign as a vengeful, merciless queen of the undead ended. That era had garnered me a throne made from the bones of my enemies, the title Lady of Death, and a fear of my parents’ tempers. Maekyl had been very influential, and he’d been by my side, as much as a skull could.

  “You’re right,” I said, my anger deflating like a disturbed soufflé. “I have kept you hidden away and kept my distance. But it’s not like you’re the best influence, ya know.” I flopped into a chair before tugging my shoes off. “If Dad agrees, maybe Xantos can visit you.”

  Maekyl rolled his eyes.

  We both knew it was unlikely, but I could ask. My dad still surprised me with his advice. “I would appreciate your help with the wards. And I’ll try to figure out who can visit you without my having to worry about the destruction of the world or your being released or killed permanently. Is that fair?”

  “Quite fair.” Maekyl replied. “Although Xantos and I can communicate without anyone’s permission, I would prefer a face-to-face conversation when it can be arranged. Surely you understand that.”

  “Xantos said he’s been trying to contact you. Why didn’t you answer sooner? He also said you were adversaries more than allies. If you aren’t on friendly terms, why do you think the conversations are going to be civil?”

  “Why does it matter if the conversation is always civil?” Maekyl sounded amused, even excited. “The dahnri and I performed many uncivilized acts together and against each other! It was always exciting. At first, I resisted the idea of reminiscing over such times and arguing as we did. And making him work for anything is always good sport.” He chuckled dryly. “But the more he attempted to contact me, the more I realized I was denying myself something enjoyable. Your father may have imprisoned me, and I may be stuck here, but that doesn’t mean all my pleasures should be denied.”