by Jill Nojack
Oriane kept her secret, although she lost her smile when Shan began to tear the living, feeling branches from her scalp one by one by one.
Her screams gave nothing away.
***
At the dinner table, Lizbet filled her mother in on the search for Mona. "So, we've been looking for two days, but we're not finding. I mean, James used a locator spell the first day, and we found her shoes, but that's it. So she either disappeared into thin air or she's hiding from us. If she's in her nature form, we'd never recognize her. A tree's a tree, right?"
Lizbet's father stopped eating and said, "What do you mean a tree's a tree? I thought you were looking for a person?"
Lizbet had almost forgotten her father was there. She'd been ignoring him so well since the start of the meal. She still wasn't sure she was ready to patch things up. He'd made it pretty clear what he thought of the fae and magic. She wasn't going to go around apologizing for who she was so her father would accept her. "Mona is a dryad, Dad...well, a half-dryad. She can transform from person-shaped to tree-shaped. She came here from Texas looking for me after Fae Day and decided to stay. She works for Mr. Ross now, and she's really good friends with Mom. So, if you say something mean about her being able to turn into a tree, you'll just get both of us mad."
Steve looked like he might get angry, then he nodded his head with a look of acceptance. "I deserved that, I guess. Lizzie, I know I overreacted when magic became a part of my children's lives. Fae Day threw me for a loop. I'm not the only person in the world who's taken time to adjust. I've had time to get my head on straight, and I miss you. As your mother reminded me, you're still my one and only daughter, no matter what. I asked about your friend because I'm curious. I'm sorry you can't find her. And I think I know who you're talking about now. Is she the Asian woman who wears the twigs and leaves in her hair?"
"Yep, except the twigs and leaves are part of her hair, so no choice on wearing them." Lizbet took a deep breath, shrugged a small shrug, and continued, "Look, sorry I was snotty. I know you're trying."
"It's okay. I have to work hard not to be stubborn myself, so maybe you actually did inherit a little something from me."
Bobby chimed in, "Oh she did, Dad! She really did!"
Bobby didn't understand why his serious statement was funny, but when everyone else started laughing, he laughed along with them.
Still laughing, Lizbet shook her fork at him and said, "I'm so going to get you back for that one!"
She suddenly realized she loved having all of her family around again. She'd spent a lot of time being upset at her father for not being perfect, but she'd missed this.
CHAPTER TEN
Where Have You Gone
On Saturday morning, Lizbet materialized with James in tow just in front of the small, stone throne in the main room of the fae's Scottish castle. It was completely silent. She let go of James's hand and walked to a side room, hoping to find someone—one of the dryads or the naiads or even a centaur or one of the elves. But there was no one there.
Her past lives flashed memories of ancient enemies and furious battles in her head. Knock it off. I don't have time or energy for all your predictions of doom. The flashes of memory stopped. She took a deep breath and looked over to James. "So, does Myrddin have any suggestions, or is he as much of a doom and gloom guy as Morgan and her buddies?"
"He hasn't got any more of a clue than I have. I say we look around outside."
They exited the keep to the gardens, and it was clear that something had happened there. Lizbet looked out over what was once a well-maintained formal landscape. Now, plants were crushed or torn up. But other than that, nothing. It was a peaceful scene. It made no sense that there was no one there.
A slight sound behind her made her turn. James must have heard it, too, because he turned with her. A small figure darted from behind a hedge and took off running toward the forest. James held up his hand and beckoned toward the being who, despite still running furiously in the other direction, began to move slowly toward him.
Eventually, the being realized he'd been caught and looked back toward his captor, fright showing in his large, wide eyes. Then he relaxed, turned, and allowed himself to be drawn along. "Och, I didn't recognize ye, my queen. And Myrddin, too. Have you brought Eamon with ye? He'd be a sight for sore eyes about now."
Lizbet recognized Eamon's brother gruagach. "It's Hamish, isn't it? You're Eamon's friend."
James released his magical hold and the gruagach made a low bow.
"I am that, my queen. Can you take me to him? Because I dinnae want to stay here any longer than I have to. I was only hidin' until I was sure the elves were gone."
"Elves did this?"
"Aye, and a fine clean up job they did after. There should have been some blood about. The Centaurs took heavy casualties, but do you see their bodies? No. The elves took them and scattered a bit of magic about to hide what happened. The dryads they took away in chains. Most of the rest of the fae folk escaped when one of your sister auraes had them form a chain and blew a great load of pixie dust around the room. I declined to join them and took my place with the centaurs to help hold your castle. I'm afraid I dinnae do a very good job of it." Hamish hung his head, suddenly overcome.
Lizbet squatted down to be level with the gruagach and gently reached out to lift his head and look into eyes that were beginning to tear up in the corners. "Hamish, there's no doubt in my mind that you were very, very brave. Of course we'll take you with us."
The gruagach cheered at this. "Thank you. I couldnae bear to be alone here in this field of tragedy much longer."
***
Hamish sat center stage in the Moore's living room. He munched contentedly on liberally buttered popcorn and handfuls of cheese puffs as he began the tale of what he now referred to as the "Battle for the Highlands Court".
"We didn't expect a thing, ye ken? None of the court elves had been actin' strange until suddenly they're popping out from all corners, pulling everyone together with a caging spell. It was a powerful one, too, well beyond the power of any elvin wizard I've ever known..." he nodded at James, "...present company excluded, of course."
James nodded his head minutely to indicate acknowledgement. Hamish bolted down another handful of cheese puffs, then continued.
"Well, that's when you would have thought the gates to the other world were opening! Outside, you could hear the elvin horns and the centaurs shouting to each other to arm as quickly as they could. The nymph Aisha, she beckoned everyone close who was trapped in the caging circle and had them hold hands. I'd just come in from the stables so I was outside the circle. Someone reached a hand to me through the cage, but I didn't take it. I knew I had to stay and defend us. Then Aisha threw great handfuls of pixie dust into the air, and suddenly they were gone. I don't know where she took 'em."
"I ran outside, and the elves had already captured the dryads who'd made for the woods. They wrapped their legs in boots and chains and then they took them away. Montan—you know him, Eamon, a good fae—he'd never give a kickin' to anyone who dinnae well and truly deserve it. He lifted me onto his back, handed me a mace, and to battle we went. We got some licks in with those elves, but just as quickly as we took one down, a blast of magic would come from the side, and he'd be healed and back up again. I can't explain it. I've never seen nothin' like it. There must have been a powerful wizard on the side of the elves, although I never saw one—only those magical blasts come from nowhere. And the stench! It was near as powerful as the magic. The only time I've ever noticed such a strong, musky smell was when I came upon a group of fauns in the deep wood. Do ye ken? The sons of Bacchus may be with the elves."
Lizbet patted James's shoulder to get his attention and gave him a questioning look. He mouthed the word "later" in return. She turned her attention back to Hamish's story.
"Montan went down..." Hamish dropped his head, took a few deep breaths, and then raised it again, "...but I was able to jump clear, and I'm asha
med to say I ran back to the garden and hid myself down a gnome hole. We'd lost anyway. The centaurs were all of them captured or killed. And someone had to be left to tell the tale." Hamish stopped then and swept a dirty cuff across the corner of one eye, where a tear had started to form. "He was a good fae, that Montan, a good fae."
Sheila, who'd been listening with tears in her own eyes, impulsively rose and went toward the gruagach to comfort him with a hug. He lifted his small hands to stop her and said, “No need for emotional stuff, no, no...but maybe just a bit of what the lad’s havin’?”
Sheila said, “Of course,” and hustled into the kitchen to get another bowl of ice cream, followed by both the gruagach and her son, who didn't want to be left out if more ice cream was being offered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’ve Got My Eyes On You
After the others left for the kitchen, James wrapped his arm around Lizbet. She snuggled into his side and said, “The thing is...Mona’s half dryad, and based on what Hamish saw, it seems like the elves are going after the dryads. Now that I know that, her disappearing is just getting more and more scary. And, despite how much he sucks up to me, Freoric is the only elf in this country that we know about, so that puts him right there as the top suspect, don’t you guys think?”
Eamon paced back and forth with his hands folded behind his back. A serious expression darkened his already unattractive face, “Aye, I agree it would have to be Freoric, but we've found nothing to prove the dryad's come to harm. We can’t go accusin’ him. We’ve got to have something solid.”
“Any ideas how to get that?” asked James.
“We need one of those spy networks your human governments are so fond of.”
Lizbet rolled her eyes, “No problem, I’ve got one in my backpack. Really.”
“I was thinking backyard, more likely,” Eamon said without a hint of humor.
Lizbet looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes lit up, and she grinned. “The gnomes. Who would suspect them of having anything to do with intelligence?” she asked, as she raised her hands and put air quotes around the word intelligence. "That’s actually kind of brilliant."
Eamon stood taller at that. “Well, you know I don’t like to blow my own horn, but I'll not disagree.”
James shifted to lean in closer to Eamon and took his arm from around Lizbet. She sat up straighter, more alert now that a plan was developing. Lizbet enjoyed listening to her boyfriend and her lives-long friend plotting and planning. Their last plan had been both creative and effective. The fact that she was back in control of her own body instead of still under the control of her fae half was proof of that.
“How’re you going to keep the gnomes focused long enough to get any information gathering out of them?”
“That’s where the sorcery comes in, is it not? Surely Myrddin or Morgan can come up with a way to supercharge a group of gnomes long enough to get decent spy work out of them.”
James rubbed his chin. "It could work. Might need Tanji for this, though. That book of hers is awfully useful. And Thomas..."
Lizbet interrupted him. "Not Thomas. Not this time. Not when it has to do with Freoric or the elves. You know how he feels about them."
"Okay, but I just thought by pooling minds and talents..." He stopped when he noted Lizbet's warning look. "...but, yeah, okay, I'm not going to argue on that one. So, we have to think of something that won’t harm them in any way but makes them act a little less gnome-like for a while. Plus," James said, turning back to Eamon, "and this is a big point for me—they need to agree to it. I’m not dosing them up without them knowing about it. This isn't like when they tried to make Bobby their king or god or whatever they thought he was. They’ve behaved since then, and they were a big help with the fae Morgan, so we owe them some respect. This is a whole different situation."
“Right. The day you find me respectin’ a gnome...”
Lizbet stopped him. "James is right, Eamon."
Eamon replied, "As you say, mistress," but his eyes continued to disagree.
***
Thomas placed the large glass globe on top of the metal stand. He'd shaped it with magic and scrap metal he'd nicked from an abandoned building. The globe came from a local glassblower. It had to be magic-free so that it didn't absorb any of the magical essence it would soon contain. It had cost most of a month's salary but had just the right symmetry to collect and concentrate the wisps. It would also be nicely concealed in the woods by the old cement silo near the abandoned railroad tracks.
He was pretty sure a group of dusters used the silo as a meeting spot. That would have to stop: the repelling spell he'd devised should give anyone coming too close a deep sense of unease and prevent them from entering. If someone did fight the fear and get too close for his comfort, they'd regret it when they found it harder and harder to breathe. By the time anyone was near enough to the silo to potentially cause trouble, their heart would be racing with anxiety and they'd soon pass out from lack of oxygen. Thomas wasn't leaving this one to chance.
He completed the protection spell, then began the larger ritual. James called his talent for combining two or more spells "magical macgyvers". He wasn't sure what that meant, but he felt certain James approved of his talent. Too bad he couldn't tell him about this one.
He interweaved the various threads of magic, focusing intently and visualizing each of the spells as a strand of blue power, tweaking this one here, that one there, and then weaving them into a coherent whole. He couldn't suppress a satisfied if somewhat smug smile. He congratulated himself on the thorough job he'd done planning and the ease with which he'd worked the complex magic.
Around the world, the wisps felt a tug at their magical core, an irresistible attraction to a single point on the map. Wherever they were, they turned and made a beeline for Ohio.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Today We Heard The News
"Right, so here's the plan," Eamon said to the four gnomes lined up in front of him in Lizbet's back yard. "You'll follow that elf, Freoric. The assassin, right?" He paced and glared as he spoke.
Eamon's glare helped Gurrdenn focus—the queen's gruagach had threatened them with Myrddin's power in the past when he'd spoken to them this way. Gurrdenn didn't want to risk the wizard's wrath. James might sometimes be kind to them, but Gurrdenn had heard the legends about wizards, and they were never kind to gnomes for long.
"If you keep your mind on the job and bring us back good information, there's a reward. An entire bag of sugar—not one shared by the huddle—a full bag for each of you."
Behind Eamon, James held up a bag of sugar for the gnomes to see. He had to put it down again when the gnomes got distracted, leaning slightly toward the treasure with glazed expressions on their faces, forcing Eamon to turn around and scold, "Och, like that's helping. What can you be thinkin'?"
When Eamon turned around again and slapped his walking stick against the ground to regain the gnomes' attention, James smirked. Something about hanging out with the gnomes made him feel like he was Bobby's age and his only job was to have fun. Sometimes, he even indulged himself in a gnome game or two when no one was looking, pretending he joined in for Bobby's sake, but really, who doesn't want to play King of the Hill with a bunch of burping, farting, semi-maniacs? He was pretty sure Lizbet suspected his deception.
After Eamon explained the task, James sat down on the ground in front of the now restless gnomes and tried to explain to them about informed consent and needing to have their agreement to administer the potion, but they didn't listen. They kept looking at the sugar he'd set down on the picnic table before joining them nearer the ground. They reached their hands out to the dark potion bottle eagerly as he handed it down the row, and each of them took a healthy swig.
Well, that's that, James thought, the world is now possessed of a set of slightly smarter gnomes for about the next week.
Eamon slapped his stick again and said, "Well then, off with ye."
The gnomes scur
ried off together, trailing the sound of bodily noises behind them, but they didn't trip each other or run off into the woods in four different directions following some interesting flash of light. James thought that was a good sign.
Eamon sighed. "Well, that's for it, then. Nothing to do but hope that if there's something to find, they'll find it."
James nodded, but he added his own silent wish that the little guys would be okay.
***
"Avenall? My name is Johnny Johnson, reporter for WGGG TV in New York. Would it be okay if I came up with my camera man and asked you a few questions?"
Avenall looked down the stairs to the man who looked up at him expectantly. "What is it you wish to speak about?"
"People are curious about you. They saw you on the news last night after passengers here emailed in their video. Do you know what a newscast is?"
"Yes, I watched many human TV shows when we still lived within the shadow realm. I understand."
"I want to put you on the news so that people can learn about you. They'd also like a closer look at your dragons."
"No one is to get close to the dragons. The younger ones are easily frightened."
"We don't need to get close. The camera can take close pictures from a distance. But we would need to come up the stairs, if that's okay."
Avenall stood for a moment, deciding. If humans understood that the dragons are not dangerous by their nature, they would be more accepting. He knew what human myth made of dragons, and they portrayed them as terrible things.
Yes, it would help to let the humans know that dragons are not meant to be beasts of destruction and war. Avenall nodded and motioned for the reporter to come forward.