The Lore Series (Box Set): All 3 Books In One Volume

by Chad T. Douglas

  “I will look for the demon,” explained the Elder, “and when I do, the spool will rise from my hand. When it does, call out to him. That is all you must do.”

  Molly nodded in understanding.

  “Make room, and hold him strong!” the Elder shouted to the others. Stepping aside, they opened a gap in their circle, a window for the Elder to see Thomas clearly. “Luna Mater, where is this darkness?”

  The wood knot in one hand and the demon spool in the other, the Elder hunched over, squinting through the flurries at Thomas. As if he had gone blind, his eyes rolled around in his head, looking at no particular thing Molly could tell. As he searched, the demon spool stood upright in his palm and turned on one point slowly.

  “He is chasing the demon so Thomas can be called back from sleep,” said Geoffrey, never taking his eyes off the ancient man.

  “You know much about magic for a young magescribe.” Leon watched the spinning spool with rapt attention.

  “There.” His eyes locking still, the Elder whispered the word. When he did, the demon spool spun fast, rising from his hand and levitating on its own power as the old man withdrew his hand and raised his wood knot.

  “Thomas!” Molly cried out, expelling his name from her lungs with all her hope.

  All became silent.

  “Ses nomos!” The Elder belted the command.

  The snow flurries stopped in place, lingering in the air as if time had frozen.

  “Ses nomos!” he repeated in Gresh, demanding that the demon name itself.

  Thomas opened his eyes. He looked at Molly. She looked at him. Blue and brown, deep water and rich earth, met one another and embraced.

  The Elder blinked, the only one to hear the demon’s voice as it spoke. He’d caught it.

  “Ses dos mos! Ets ha’vat!” Raising his voice to a scream, the Elder swung his wood knot in circles, drawing out the evil being.

  A thin, black thread appeared from Tom’s chest, his nearly naked body coming alive with electric spasms. The little thread flew from the circle of mages around Thomas and was quickly sucked up by the spinning spool, grappling it like a fish on a line. Faster and faster it spun, drawing out black thread that thickened and knotted until it burst from Thomas in massive, tangled webs and folds, pouring forth like filthy, tar-soaked netting.

  “Ets ha’vat!” The Elder reached out and clenched his fingers, pulling at the thin air, the black mess fighting back, writhing like droves of snakes.

  From the space around Tom the snow flurries fled. Several of the Helvetian mages lost their footing and staggered backward, and then a great unseen force tossed them away.

  “It is coming,” the Elder warned Molly.

  “Let it come.” Standing her ground, she relaxed and funneled the magical energy welling up inside of her into her hands.

  Dark fog poured forth from the circle, blocking any view of Thomas. From the rolling haze, the dreigher stepped forth. On long, spindly legs it stepped toward not the Elder, but Molly, lurching over and opening its long mouth in anger. Nearly shapeless except for its bulbous head, the demon broke into a charge and shrieked, desperately swinging its arms.

  Taken by surprise, Molly backed away and raised her hands, afraid she would not steady herself in time to react. The demon stumbled, falling forward as Thomas appeared through the black haze and, ramming it from behind, tackled it ferociously with all the weight of his transformed body.

  The light that erupted from Molly’s hands could be seen from the Helvetian village miles away. On the Tablet it was unbearable to face. Geoffrey and the Elder turned away. Leon dashed down the stone stair and took shelter in the shadows. When the blaze faded, Molly dropped her hands. No remnant of the demon was left on the Tablet or in the air. Thomas, slouching and still more than two heads taller than normal, looked at her in yellow-eyed wonder. Soon his eyes were blue again, and as if no harm had ever been done, he walked about the Tablet with great curiosity, having no recollection of anything that had happened. Molly, wishing to be certain she had not injured him, went to him at the edge of the Tablet and explained everything as she touched his arms and face.

  “Tonight,” the Elder said, tying the wood knot to his belt and addressing the spectators, “The Helvetii drove darkness from the mountain.” The mages cheered.

  “How?” Tom turned and looked at the strange old man from across the Tablet, resting a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “You knew I was coming.”

  “No, Thomas,” he insisted, “I know you came, and I know you are going to come again, but I was not certain you would be coming.”

  When the Elder said Tom’s name, Molly felt her arms break out in goosebumps. No one had given the man their names, including her.

  “But how?” Tom asked again. The light snow fell heavier and caught in his eyelashes; stung his bare skin. He held Molly closer as the cold set in.

  “In a dream, I saw the trees in the forest falling,” the Elder replied. “The whole world crashed to the ground, and only you were standing when it stopped.” Folding his hands behind his back he hunched, the beads in his beard clicking together as he smiled and spoke. “When I was woken from my sleep tonight and saw the trees in the forest falling, I thought you had come to end the world. I was wrong.”

  “Do not think I trust you because you helped me.” Tom’s hard eyes respectfully declined the old werewolf’s implicit apology. The stranger was powerful, and the wood knot he carried was a sign of incredible magical knowledge. “I do not consider myself in debt to you.”

  “Neither do I,” agreed the Elder. Again he smiled, expecting Tom’s confusion. “In fact, the Helvetii have just paid a debt to you, Thomas.”

  “For what? Do not take me for a fool, and do not riddle me.”

  “If you were a fool, you wouldn’t have followed the moonbloom to this place.” The Elder knew everything about Tom’s appearance, it seemed, even the forces that influenced it. “You have one year to live, and—”

  “What?” Tom cut him off. “What do you mean? I came here to take my life back, not to shorten it!” he shouted angrily.

  “Thomas, I’m sorry,” said Molly, touching his face. “I allowed them to remove the demon, even though there would be a cost, but I didn’t know this would—”

  “No,” the Elder stopped her. “Both of you have acted precisely as you should.”

  “I said do not riddle me!” Tom warned him again. “You said one year. Why?”

  “Why indeed!” The old man raised his voice, but did not shout.

  “Please,” Molly whimpered, approaching the Elder and tugging Tom along with her. “We have come very far. I cannot tell you how often I have seen him an inch from death. We … I want it to stop. Why can’t he live?” As much power as she felt at her disposal, Molly caved in under the thought that nothing she could do would keep her with Thomas if fate chose against it. As she waited for the Elder’s answer, her strong brown eyes swelled and flooded until they overflowed, and two warm streams of despair streaked her frozen cheeks.

  “He can,” replied the Elder, looking at Tom but speaking to Molly. “One year, or less.” He shrugged, turning up his palms. “Come with me, and I will tell you how you shall spend it.”

  III

  The Octopus

  Nothing teaches patience like prison walls. Today is the third consecutive day I have not been supplied with new paper. My laboratory instruments and tools were taken from me a week ago. I’m slowly being starved of all my amenities, save for water and food. It took nearly thirty years to convince them to allow me all these materials, and in only days’ time, I am without. I’m saving my breath for now. I do not know when or if I should expect more paper. The notion that I will be unable to continue these journals is disheartening, but nothing is certain just yet.

  The Ghosts have been my only window to the outside for decades, and the things they have said of late lead me to wonder what is happening out there. Maybe there is hope. Chin up, Geoffrey. Press on.

 
; Geoffrey Mylus,

  July 15, 1833

  The ancestral village of the Helvetii, called Argeş Sa—meaning, “where the Argeş begins,” in Gresh—lay in a rounded valley less than five miles from the Novaci Tablet. Settled deep within an earthen bowl between surrounding mountains, it had sheltered the Helvetii from the outside world for ages. Overflows from the springs that supplied the Argeş River poured into the valley, combining to form another river, which cut its bed all the way around Argeş Sa and flowed away through a gorge that divided the Novaci Plateau from its neighbor. Because this river nearly met itself in a full circle, Argeş Sa, sitting on a slight rise, looked much like an island in the middle of the Carpathians.

  The village, already bustling with people, didn’t take much notice of the Elder’s return, even when everyone saw that he had come with strangers. Thomas, easily recognized as a werewolf, was assumed to be an expected guest. His companions, non-werewolves, did not cause much alarm, but most of the people watched Leon with great interest.

  Most of Argeş Sa resembled the cities of Eastern Europe, and the people lived in modest homes with their families. A select few structures, because of their significance, were carved out of the rocky flesh of the mountains themselves, jutting out from sides where the spring flows did not fall. These halls and temples of stone, though few in number, could be seen from anywhere in Argeş Sa, pushing past the evergreen ceiling toward the sky. Under the halved light of the moon, the Temple of Luna Mater rested its broad shoulders against the valley walls and held Argeş Sa and the people of the village in its arms like many children.

  The Elder led Molly and Tom through the tranquil village and toward the Temple of Luna Mater. Snow collecting on the stone steps made the climb a treacherous one. Several times Molly slipped, but Tom caught her from behind. Geoffrey and Leon followed, but they were stopped at the temple doors and required to wait outside. Only by the Elder’s authority were Thomas and Molly allowed to enter. As the three moved into the temple, the monks outside, heavily armed with magically-endowed clubs and talismans, shut the great doors.

  Their eyes adjusting to the change of light, Molly and Tom looked about their new surroundings. The main body of the temple, a cavernous arcade, expanded and rose all around them, its ceiling sprinkled with stalagmites and stalactites of glowing candle wax. Stone walls surrounded them and closed off what would best be described as a large outer cloister of the arcade. Opposite the temple doors, on the other end of the half-egg shaped arcade was a long passage. With its ceiling and far end indistinguishable from each other, the corridor came to life with a supernatural, soft blue light. The Elder gave a nod and gestured toward the passage with his wooden knot before beckoning Tom and Molly to follow him toward it.

  The cool air of the arcade did not follow the three into the passage. Instead, warmth drove back the cool air, inviting the travelers in. Blue tones of light played on the walls of the passage, which now could be seen rising higher and higher until darkness overtook it. Bright veins like shining metal ran along the walls, and Thomas understood them to have magical properties. Molly reached out to touch them, gently drawing her fingertips along them and watched them leave crackling trails of sparks that leapt off the metallic veins and fly off like shooting stars.

  “So this is where the stone is,” said Thomas, assuming the genamite stone he’d read about was what the Elder was leading them toward.

  “Yes, we are here to visit the Boar and determine what must be done about your crisis,” answered the Elder, his old voice filling the passage.

  “You’re going to consult it, or …” This was Tom’s best guess, but he was curious to know more about the artifact.

  “Consult it?” the Elder asked, turning around and laughing. “You must take me for one who is superstitious!”

  The reaction surprised Tom, and he couldn’t decide whether he’d offended the old man or amused him.

  Realizing Tom did not understand his meaning, the Elder waved off the joke and turned, continuing on toward the end of the passage, where a set of stairs led down into a small antechamber. “It is not a matter of learning what you must do, so much as it is deciding how the Boar will assist you in doing what you must do, and I believe I already know.”

  “What do you mean? How can you know why I am here and what I am to do before it happens?” asked Tom, stepping past Molly and catching up to the Elder.

  “You really don’t know?” the old man replied. “You have dreams. These dreams show you things to come, do they not?”

  Thomas stopped to ponder the Elder’s words, attempting to find hidden answers in his comments.

  As the Elder slowed for Tom and Molly to catch up, he approached the next set of doors. Turning and scratching at his beard, he maintained a constant smile as he continued. “I have dreams, too. I told you I saw your approach. I saw the trees falling in the forest. I misinterpreted this vision, but one detail came true. It was your appearance, and that is the only detail that mattered. This has happened to you before, Thomas? The moonbloom spoke to you? You saw a future that you were desperate to understand, and when it came to pass, it no longer made sense in the way you had expected.”

  “Yes,” Tom said plainly, affording no detail to the Elder. Harlan immediately came to Tom’s mind, and he wondered if the old man could hear his thoughts and pains.

  “Yes.” The Elder echoed, looking at the young man and woman in a strange, excited way, as if he had some jubilant news to bear. “Time is a dream,” he said, turning to push open the antechamber doors. A deluge of soft blue light swept the antechamber.

  “What is inside?” Molly asked as she gasped, sensing the genamite stone as it tugged at the magical power inside her.

  “Come on,” Tom said. He took her hand, and they followed the Elder into the room, which didn’t look like a room at all. Rather the elegant stone floor and walls gradually eroded away as they approached a sheer cliff, beyond which a weird and familiar wilderness lay. On the edge of the room, where the floor met the cliff, a bronze Boar, large and polished, posed powerfully as it stared off into the distance. On its back it carried a broad, brilliant blue and violet stone, irregularly cut.

  “There are many windows through which we may look at time, and whichever we open is the dream we make real,” the Elder was saying.

  Thomas didn’t notice the discomfort in his hand until he broke away from his awe long enough to look down and see that Molly, also agape and silent, was holding his hand so strongly that hers was shaking and giving off a vibrant white glow.

  The Elder nodded. “In my youth, my trouble was accepting the possibility that each and every person may have a destiny.” Opening his arms he turned to look out at the wilderness beyond the overlook. “But the truth is that destiny is a sea, and there is never just one river leading us toward it.” He turned around to face Thomas, who looked back at him over the Boar’s shoulders.

  “What does this all mean? You never told me why I am going to live no longer than a year from now.” Setting all the visual distractions aside, Tom remembered his reason for coming to Argeş Sa. As Molly walked away to tour the overlook, Tom approached the Elder and again demanded answers.

  “Did you have a dream before you came to this place?” The Elder was not yet finished setting the stage for truth.

  “What does that have to do with what I am asking?” Tom argued.

  “Everything!” The immediacy and volume of the response boomed from the old man’s lips and rattled the beads hanging from his beard.

  Tom, slightly taken aback, refrained from yelling. “Yes, I did. I saw a tree that grows in a garden outside my house in London. I also saw a ring my father gave me when I was young. It’s buried in a box beneath the tree and looks like an octopus.”

  “An octopus,” the old man repeated. “Yes, there is something buried there, but it is not something of yours.”

  “Of course it is! I put it there,” countered Tom.

  “Or did Luna Mater pla
ce it in your dreams, so you would go looking for it?” He touched a finger to his temple.

  As uneasy as he felt, Tom was patient. If he were to make sense of his life, and if he were to ever rest, he would have to unwind the knotted mess that so far comprised his seemingly directionless existence. Ridiculous as it was, if an old werewolf in Romania had a solution, Tom wasn’t going to refuse it.

  From the overlook Molly said something, and Tom turned to watch her. She was just as important a part of the puzzle as he was, and he owed her much. “The longer I live the way I have been, the more life feels like a dream,” he said to the Elder. “You speak as though I have some purpose to fulfill.”

  “Why shouldn’t you have one?”

  “Stop answering me with questions. I would be better off talking to myself …”

  The wooden knot spun back and forth slowly on the end of its line. Despite the calm of the overlook, the atmosphere of the hour was heavy. Scratching at his beard, the old werewolf watched as Molly walked from the overlook to join him and Tom by the cliff.

  “You have three months,” the Elder said.

  “To live?” burst Tom. “I thought you said I had one year!”

  “A year or less,” the Elder reminded Tom. “I was not yet sure when we were standing atop the Tablet, but now the Boar is speaking to me, filling in the missing pieces.”

  Molly placed her hands gently on Tom’s shoulders and then took them away again, realizing whatever was going to happen to him was her fault this time.

  “Why? Will you at least explain why I am dying?” Tom insisted. Hands on his hips, he turned to glare at the sky over the wilderness beyond, his eyes boiling.

  “The Octopus showed itself to you in your dream. When a person receives this vision, in one quarter of a year’s time, the Octopus comes for them,” he explained, speaking slowly and patiently.

  “What do you mean by Octopus?” Shaking his head and smiling cynically, Thomas held both palms face-up in confusion.