Shadowglade

by Kay L. Ling

  “Well, I’m only theorizing,” Elias said, “but the book may have infused the Dark gems. If so it may take a while for the effects to wear off.”

  Raenihel said, “So you believe the book will eventually lose the evil personality?”

  “Yes, I hope so,” Elias said.

  Jules was already thinking a step ahead. “Once the dark powers wear off, the book might reject S and everything she stood for. After all, she must have stolen the book from the gnome. If we’re very lucky, it might feel some amount of loyalty to the gnome’s descendants.”

  “Ah, that’s a promising angle,” Elias said, his eyes lighting. “The evil personality is still loyal to S. The good personality is not, which is creating an internal conflict. The struggle might be resolved by shifting the book’s loyalty to someone with a legitimate claim.”

  “Well, whatever it takes, we need to break the evil personality’s hold,” Jules said. “That book holds a wealth of knowledge, and I think some may be memorized rather than written down.”

  “You may be right about that. If you’ve finished your lunch,” Elias said, “I’ll have Jules take you to the secret room so you can see the artifacts.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Afterward, I’ll meet you in the library. I’d like you to meet Tyla and her family, members of Raenihel’s clan who are studying S’s books. A smaller library in S’s private chambers may contain her most secret books and documents. Some of you can read runes, so perhaps you would read the titles and tell us which books to study first.”

  “We’d be happy to do that,” Morodin said, glancing at the others who nodded.

  The entire party rose and Kerosten said, “I must send a messenger to my clan. They should hear the things we discussed today, and I am not ready to leave. If you are agreeable, I would like to stay at least two weeks so I can learn more about gem powers and your work here at Shadowglade.”

  “Please stay as long as you like.” Elias glanced at Jules and said telepathically, Quite a change of attitude from this morning.

  Jules gave him an amused smile.

  “If the invitation is open to all of us, I would like to stay, as well,” Vegmir said, turning to Morodin who nodded rather sheepishly.

  “You’re all welcome to stay,” Elias assured them.

  “Then it’s decided.” Kerosten rubbed his hands together. “We shall send messengers first thing in the morning.”

  It was bound to be an entertaining two weeks, Jules thought, gesturing toward the door. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to see the staffs and shields.”

  Chapter 30

  Jules woke feeling groggy, but as soon as he realized it was Thursday, he came fully awake. Tonight, he’d meet Lana in the Amulet. Had it been only four days since he’d seen her? So much had happened; it seemed like weeks.

  Instead of driving to Lana’s apartment, they would stay at the Tree Home. It would be a short visit, but he welcomed the chance to see her before the weekend. He had so much to tell her. Elias had successfully stopped the rain. Clan leaders had arrived, and they all had gem powers. Morodin’s scroll had revealed news about the Battle of Last Hope. The spell book might have been sentient before S owned it. The Ministry of Breghlin affairs was open now, and there was a bounty on S’s monsters. Lana would be amazed at all these developments.

  Sitting up in bed, he groped in the dark for the lighter Lana had given him and almost knocked over the mineral oil lamp on his bedside table. Finally, he found it and lit the wick. The lamp, a little brighter than a candle, provided enough light for his depressingly small room. Like most rooms in Shadowglade, it was windowless, which made it seem even smaller.

  His furnishings, as dismal as the room itself, consisted of a crudely made bed, a wobbly table, a mineral oil lamp, and a battered trunk that held his limited wardrobe and toiletries. It could be worse, he reminded himself. As a wolfhound, he’d slept in the throne room, the passageways, or in the basement. When his human mind had returned, he’d left Shadowglade immediately, striking out for Elias’s cave or the Fair Lands. Ironically, he’d learned more about Shadowglade during the last few weeks than he had in the previous hundred years.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stared glumly at the wall. If guests kept arriving, he’d be sleeping in Elias’s room before long. He’d given Tyla and her family his original room with its handsome, ornate furniture, and moved to a smaller room. It seemed the right thing to do. Then the gnome clan leaders had arrived, and he’d given his modest room with its feather bed and sturdy, well-made furniture to Vegmir. Elias had offered him this room with its rickety, cast-off furnishings, promising him it was only temporary.

  Yesterday morning another clan leader had arrived, an elderly fellow, mostly bald and bent with age. Jules’s heart had sunk at the prospect of giving up yet another room. Fortunately, Morodin had agreed to room with Kerosten. But the castle was out of beds, so Jules had sacrificed his. A female breghlin had made him a mattress from ticking, which he had filled with straw, and then he and a couple of the males had built a wooden bedframe.

  Shadowglade had grown chaotic with the growing number of visiting clan leaders and their guards. The guards had set up a communal bedroom somewhere in the basement—no doubt by the beer and wine kegs, Jules thought irritably. Naturally everyone had to eat as well as sleep, which was a drain on resources. S had tailored Shadowglade’s food supplies to breghlin appetites, which left little food for humans and gnomes.

  Beginning to feel rather put upon, Elias had hidden his coffee, venison, orelia eggs, and any other delicacies, and had told the kitchen staff to serve the visitors dark bread, cheese, root vegetables, and an occasional piece of fruit.

  Tuesday afternoon, Shadowglade had received an unexpected cartload of produce, but it was mushy and molding—just the way breghlin liked it, but unfit for humans or gnomes. The cart had come from an outlying breghlin clan, and they had been expecting to deliver their produce to S. Xenon and Oliver had gleefully explained to the breghlin drivers that S was no longer in charge, and then taken them to S’s cage to prove it. The drivers exchanged their load of fruit for tools and bolts of cloth, just as they had always done, and the Breghlin Ministry office recorded the transaction. Undoubtedly, more breghlin would arrive with goods in the coming weeks, and it would be a convenient way to spread the news of S’s defeat.

  Jules stood and dressed. The floor felt pleasantly cool on his bare feet. Whatever he wore today also would have to do for his visit tonight since he expected to be very busy all day.

  He brushed his hair, long overdue for a haircut, and then planned his day. First, he’d go to the lean-to by the maraku barn and check for severed heads. He grimaced. What an unpleasant way to start the day. But eating first and then facing the gruesome spectacle was even worse. Most of S’s abominations were nocturnal, so breghlin hunted at night and arrived first thing in the morning with their kills.

  Monday, Elias had issued weapons to Ben, Oliver, and Xenon, and sent them off to hunt. They had each come back on Tuesday morning with a crocodillo head.

  A breghlin from an outlying clan had claimed the first bounty for an urgruv. Urgruvs were long-necked, two-headed birds, nearly as tall as a man. They couldn’t fly but had powerful legs and could outrun a man or gnome, and they were vicious omnivores.

  Working together, two outsiders had killed a pair of murpine and dragged the heads to Shadowglade on a length of hide. Murpine were stupid but savage creatures resembling furless bears, and their hides were extremely tough.

  Later in the morning, Jules would stop in the library to see if Tyla and her family needed anything. Then he’d check on the clan leaders who were sorting books and scrolls in S’s suite prior to their daily gem power lesson.

  So far, the clan leaders had sent Tyla dozens of books to translate, but she hadn’t found any with critical information. In the interest of time, she usually spent no more than an hour on each book. Later, others would study the books in greater de
pth. In the last few days, she’d read about gnomes who had made scientific discoveries and invented important tools, and she had also read geology and mineralogy books and studied several maps.

  Jules headed out to the maraku barn, dreading what he would find. When he reached the lean-to, a crocodillo head lay on the ground, but there was no breghlin waiting to be paid. He asked the staff, and they said the guard, Parcune, had dropped it off a while ago. On his way to breakfast, Jules stopped to thank him.

  “Can’t be outdone by the breghlin,” Parcune said with a sly wink. He was always polite to breghlin, but there was no mistaking his dislike. “No reward necessary,” he added. “But if you can spare a beer or two, it wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Jules grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”

  When Jules came into the kitchen, Maggie Ann stood at the battered worktable, hacking dark red meat into strips. She looked up and smiled, bits of raw meat stuck between her teeth. “Oliver gived me this gerstlit, an’ I be makin’ jerky,” she announced proudly. The severed tail complete with its stinger hung over the back of a nearby chair.

  It was hard enough to keep track of the staff’s names, much less their private lives, but Jules remembered Lana saying Maggie Ann was fond of Oliver. Breghlin romances were a new concept for Jules, and he found it hard to keep a straight face. “That must be the one he killed on Tuesday.”

  She nodded. “I been workin’ on it ever since, when no one needs me.”

  Was the meat safe to eat after two days? Probably. Breghlin had cast iron stomachs. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d eaten rotting meat, and they preferred their fruit moldy. Maggie Ann shoved another scrap of raw meat into her mouth and went back to work.

  The crocodillo head had already dampened Jules’s appetite, but watching Maggie Ann hack up this carcass killed whatever remained.

  “Can I getcha some breakfast, Gem Master Jules?” she asked without looking up.

  “I’ll just pour myself some raaka.”

  She waved a bloody hand toward the heap of glowing corrustone where a tin coffeepot sat waiting. “It be ready.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed a tin cup from the counter.

  He was just reaching for the coffeepot when something caught his eye. A creature that looked like a giant caterpillar lay curled up near the glowing stones. He’d never seen anything like it. He prodded it with his toe. The thing slowly uncurled, giving him a better view. It was at least a foot long and covered with brown fuzz. A thin strip of spiky brown-and-black hairs ran down the middle of its back. Jules reached for the iron poker.

  “Ay!” Maggie Ann called in a tone of alarm. “Whtcha doin’ with that poker?”

  Poised to skewer the caterpillar, Jules turned to look at her. “I was about to dispatch this pest.”

  “Don’t you dare kills my filkin!” she cried, horrified. “Oliver jus’ cotched it for me!”

  Jules gaped at her.

  “They’s not as rare as they used to be, but they’s still hard to come by.”

  “Er, um, sorry.” He set the poker aside, grimacing as the thing crawled onto his shoe. He wanted to shake it off, but if landed in the corrustone, Maggie Ann would probably take the meat cleaver to him. It started up his pant leg and he watched in dismay, repulsed not only by its size—it was leaving a trail of brown ooze behind, and he was quite certain he knew what that was. He finally reached down to dislodge the pest as it reached his knee, but thanks to its hundreds of tiny feet, it stubbornly hung on. Frustrated, he set his tin cup on the floor and used both hand to pull it off.

  “It likes you,” Maggie Ann said, sounding pleased.

  “Great,” he muttered, as much to the caterpillar as to Maggie Ann. Now it was trying to wrap itself around his hand.

  “We breghlin keeps filkins as soothes,” she said cheerily.

  “Soothes?” Squatting down, he pushed the thing onto the floor, and thankfully, it curled up and stayed there. He grabbed his cup and moved out of range.

  “Soothes—you doesn’t know what they is?” Maggie Ann asked in a tone of disbelief. “They’s creatures we keeps ‘cause we likes them.”

  “Ah, you mean a pet.” He found it hard to believe that breghlin kept pets, much less something like a filkin.

  “Feel how soft it be,” Maggie Ann urged.

  “Er, I already touched it,” he said with a disgusted look as he surveyed his stained pant leg. Maggie Ann set down the meat clever, wiped her bloody hands on her tunic, and came over to the fire. He wanted to escape, but she blocked his line of retreat. Bending down, she picked up the filkin, draped it over her shoulder, and began to stroke it. Admittedly, it had felt soft, but he’d been too intent on getting it off him to care. She cooed happily as she rubbed the creature. Luckily for her, it was no longer producing brown ooze, having already done its business on his pant leg.

  “Cans I keep it?” she asked timidly.

  Before he could answer, Peggy Ann walked in and cried in delight, “I heard you gots a filkin, an’ there it be!”

  Maggie Ann held it aloft, beaming. “Look how big it be!”

  Peggy Ann hurried over, gushing, “That Oliver be a fine breghlin, I always says.” Peggy Ann stroked the huge, fuzzy worm, sighing contentedly.

  “I’ll be running along now,” Jules mumbled and managed to slip past them. He’d never get used to breghlin quirks.

  When he reached the library, Tyla was working with her older sister and a male cousin. Stacks of books stood near their chairs. They had enough to last the day, but the clan leaders would probably have another stack ready in a few hours. When Tyla assured Jules that they didn’t need anything, he left for S’s suite. Along the way, he came up behind Elias.

  Hearing footsteps, Elias looked back and waited for Jules to catch up. “Vegmir thinks the spell book should spend more time around gnomes.” Elias glanced down at the spell book he was carrying. “It may remember its former owner.”

  “Good idea. Have you asked it again about the gnome?”

  “No. We’ll try again this morning.”

  The door to S’s suite stood open. Jules and Elias found the clan leaders hard at work. Mineral oil lamps cast a soft light over the seating area and torches burned in wall brackets. The room was brighter than normal and almost cheerful.

  Vegmir, sitting on the couch, looked up from his book long enough to acknowledge Jules and Elias. A few feet away, Morodin and Kerosten were at the table, leaning over a parchment, its corners held down by books. Kerosten waved them over. “There you are. Take a look at this.”

  Elias left the spell book on a chair, and they went to look at the parchment. It had a series of similar maps, each showing more area than the last.

  “The largest shows Bloody Knoll, Traitor’s Ridge, Last Hope, as well as a few more familiar names,” Kerosten said. “We’re questioning the purpose of the smaller maps.”

  “They may have been drawn as more land was explored,” Jules suggested, studying the parchment.

  “Forgive me for not getting up,” Vegmir called from the couch, “but Kerosten found two very old books about gems and I’m going through the second one now.”

  Elias perked up at the mention of gems. “Are they about gem powers or just gems?”

  “Both, and the books are very comprehensive. You’ll want to go through them when you have time.”

  “I wonder when that will be,” Elias said with a sigh.

  Since the clan leaders had limited time at Shadowglade, Elias was concentrating on their gem studies and the library project, and that, along with his regular duties, left little time for his own pursuits. He had already grown snappish, and Jules hated to think what he’d be like by the time they left.

  “I see you brought the spell book,” Vegmir said to Elias.

  “Yes, I agree with your theory; the more time it spends around gnomes, the better.”

  Kerosten and Morodin rolled up the parchment and Morodin said, “Set the book here on the table. Let’s see which
personality we get today. Vegmir, never mind the gem book now. This is more important.”

  Elias went to retrieve the spell book, Jules drew more chairs to the table, and Vegmir joined the group.

  Once seated, they all looked uncomfortably at one another, each waiting for someone else to take the initiative. Last night over dinner, Jules had mentioned that flattery sometimes put the book in a good mood, so he wasn’t surprised when Vegmir reached out timidly and began caressing the cover. In a tone typically reserved for children or pets, he said, “What a pleasure to see you again. You are a truly amazing book.”

  “Yes, your binding is marvelous, as are the jewels on your cover,” Kerosten said, touching the cover gently.

  “Gnomes!” the book cried, and everyone jumped. “Gnomes with gem powers!” It sounded surprised.

  Kerosten said, “You know from our touch we have gem powers?”

  “Of course,” the book said, as if that were a ridiculous question.

  Morodin prompted, “And most gnomes don’t have gem powers, do they?”

  “So my owner told me,” the book replied.

  Now they were getting somewhere, Jules thought, feeling encouraged.

  “Which owner told you? Sheamathan or the gnome?” Elias asked, shooting Jules a quick, hopeful glance.

  “The gnome.”

  Elias looked relieved. The book remembered the gnome, so its sentience predated Sheamathan’s ownership.

  “What about me?” Vegmir asked, touching the cover. “Do I have gem powers?”

  “Yes,” the book said, “but surely you know that. Are you testing me?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I am from the Nafaren clan.” He shot a nervous glance at the other clan leaders before asking in a casual tone, “What clan was your owner from?”

  Jules held his breath. Would the book answer?

  “Frentian,” the book replied in a reverent whisper.

  “Weak old fool!” the evil personality shouted hysterically. “Commanding powers he did not understand!”