The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  So weak. Have to fight this—but how?

  A voice echoed in my mind.

  -You have the means, although you are unaware of it.-

  La Onza?

  -I told you I would lend what assistance I could. Since I’m no match for the Dark One, I’m lending you my hundreds of years of knowledge and insight—wisdom that you, in your youth, lack.-

  I’d rather you bite the Dark Druid’s head off.

  -If I show myself, he’ll kill me. There isn’t much time, so listen closely. This magic he uses, he stole from that young girl who was your companion, yes?-

  Yes, but—

  -¡Escúchame, pollino! Where did that magic come from?-

  From the Druid Oak, but—

  -Are you so foolish that you can’t understand what I’m saying? Who is the master of that magic now?-

  The truth of what she was hinting at hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I am.

  -Then, what are you waiting for? Reclaim what is yours, and end this.-

  La Onza’s voice faded away inside my head. The split was almost complete now. I could tell because the double-vision effect was fading away, and my connection to the beast was becoming weak and tenuous.

  Okay, let’s see if she’s right.

  With a thought I reached out and called Jesse’s magic to me, and to my surprise it obeyed me instantly. My body soaked it in like a sponge soaking up water. Sapped of all the energy behind the Dark Druid’s spell, the effects dissipated. Once the spell failed, the two sides of me snapped back together, like a rubber band that had been pulled taut and released. This resulted in a tremendous backlash of magical energy that sent the Dark Druid tumbling across the chamber.

  I looked down at my hands and arms, and thankfully saw only one set. Yet the form I’d taken when my two sides rejoined was somewhere between my full-on Hyde-side and my human body. My skin was thicker and hairier, my joints were knobbier, my teeth and nails had grown longer, and my muscles were larger, yet I was only slightly taller than normal. If I had to describe it, it felt like I’d fully shifted, just without the bulk of my full Fomorian form.

  Weird. Hope I’m not stuck like this.

  Across the chamber, the Dark Druid pushed himself to his knees. His eyes met mine, first wide with shock, then they narrowed as his face contorted into a rictus of pure, impassioned hate.

  “Impossible!” he howled as his hands began to glow with silver light. “There’s no way you could have broken free from that spell!”

  “That magic was borrowed from the very beginning, asshole. It didn’t belong to you, any more than it belonged to Jesse.” I raised my hand in front of my face, closing it into a fist as thick bands of warm, green, translucent magic appeared around it. “I’m its master now—and I do believe that makes you my bitch.”

  “You think too much of yourself, apprentice,” the Fear Doirich rasped as a silver ward circle appeared on the cavern floor around him. “You might possess power, but what you lack is the knowledge and experience to use it. Allow me to show you what a master druid can do, since your mentor never saw fit to teach you himself.”

  The sickly green light was gone from the chamber, replaced by a healthier green glow that emanated from me, juxtaposed against the silver light that shone from the Dark Druid’s hands and the runes on the floor around him. That silvery glow meant he was using druidic battle magic, and to be honest that had me worried. Before he’d become a necromancer, the Fear Doirich had been only second in druidic skill to Finnegas, and he’d mastered the entirety of the craft—including druidic battle magic—nineteen hundred years before I was born.

  Me? I’d barely scratched the surface of that branch of druidry in my studies with Finnegas. Not to mention the asshole had kicked my tail with battle magic before. I certainly didn’t want a repeat of that performance.

  Think, Colin! What’s your advantage here?

  I snatched Drynwyn off the floor as I ducked behind a support column, chewing my thumbnail as I thought the situation through.

  For one, he’s made himself immobile. That ward circle will protect him, but only so long as he stays inside it.

  Second, we’re surrounded by rock and stone. I could use that against him.

  And third, he’s afraid of me—else he wouldn’t have spent precious moments casting those wards.

  “Duck!” Larry’s voice yelled from somewhere to my left. I complied, just as a molecule-thick sheet of compressed air sliced the column in two where my neck had been a moment before.

  Guillotine spell—lost an arm to that one last time, as I recall.

  “Larry!” I yelled as I dove and rolled to another column. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I felt the skinwalker’s curse lift,” the chupacabra’s disembodied voice answered, now from my right. “So, I thought I’d come say thanks. Good thing I did—looks like you could use an extra set of eyes about now.”

  “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m pretty fucking tickled to hear your voice. Just don’t let the Dark Druid see you!” I yelled as I crouched and ran from my hiding spot.

  A second later, that column disintegrated in a cloud of acrid smoke, the result of a nasty cone of acid spell that my enemy had cast at me.

  Well, that’s a new one. Gonna have to get Finnegas to teach me some of this stuff—that is, if I make it out of here. Speaking of which, it’s time I went on the offensive. But with what?

  The problem with being so far below ground was that hardly anything grew down here. Sure, I had the full force of the Grove’s magic at my fingertips, but I needed stuff to work with. Grass, vines, trees, and so on—and there was none of that in the mines.

  But what I did have was rock, and plenty of it. So, I called on the Grove’s magic, connecting it with the stony walls and floor around me. Just as I had back in the Void, I grew missiles to throw at the Dark Druid—long, slender blades of hardened stone that sprang up from the ground beside me. I sent one whistling at him, but it shattered against his protective wards.

  “Master of a Druid Grove, and you have no idea what to do with all that power,” he taunted, flicking his hands at me.

  Sheets of silvery power like flat panes of glass shot toward me, one after the other. I leapt and spun, contorting my body in impossible ways to squeeze between those deadly guillotine spells. But not quite—one of them caught me, slicing an inch-thick section of skin and muscle the size of a small saucer off the front of my thigh.

  I landed awkwardly behind a column, bleeding profusely and with limited ability to support myself on the affected leg. Now that I was also more or less immobile, it would only be a matter of time before another guillotine of compressed air and magic did me in.

  First, the Dark Druid hit the column with a cold spell, presumably to freeze the stone and make it easier to destroy. Then, as expected, he threw more of those deadly guillotine spells at me, one after another, slicing and chipping away at the stone support above me. Sheets of frozen rock began to fall and shatter all around me, and with each successive spell he sent my way, the column shrank in height.

  “Druid, you gotta move!” Larry yelled at me.

  “You think?” I yelled back, looking around the chamber for another hiding place, and finding none near enough to reach with a bum leg. Another guillotine spell sliced the column neatly about six inches above my head, shaving off another thin layer of stone that broke like tempered glass as it fell on top of me.

  For some odd reason, I noticed that this last piece of column was different. Rather than the yellow-white of limestone, it was a rust-red color.

  That’s it!

  “Larry, what was it you said they mined here again?”

  The chupacabra responded immediately in his thick Brooklyn accent. “Cinnabar—you know, mercury ore.”

  Mercury absorbs and conducts magical energy, which is why it’s sometimes used in magic amulets. And like any good conductor, it can also disrupt the flow of the energy it conducts when
it’s used as a ground.

  I dropped flat to the floor and closed my eyes as I extended my magic and druid senses out to the rock around us. At first, it was difficult to tell the difference between the porous sedimentary rock and the cinnabar deposits. Yet with only a little searching, I was able to spot the mercury-containing rock veins in the cave walls around us.

  Now, to get what I need to do this asshole in.

  Using the magic of the Druid Oak and the control I’d learned while repairing the Grove in the Void, I pulled every single bit of mercury out of the walls, floors, and ceiling around us by heating the rock up and boiling the metal out of it. But instead of drawing it into a single huge ball of quicksilver, I sent it crawling along the floor toward the Dark Druid.

  While I worked, another guillotine spell whooshed past, just above my face. I needed more time.

  “Wait, don’t kill me!” I shouted. “Maybe we can work something out.”

  “There was a time when I might have considered it, McCool,” The Dark Druid replied. “But you’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long. First you imprisoned my son again, after I’d spent centuries breaking Finnegas’ first imprisonment spell. Then, you foiled my initial attempts to get Balor’s Eye. And locking me in this body, not to mention the loss of my hand and the Eye in our last meeting—do you know how hard it was to find a mummified Fomorian’s hand? No, I’ve reached the end of my patience with you. If I can’t inhabit that body, then I’ll see you dead.”

  Thank God this freak likes to monologue, I thought as I sensed the small streams of mercury I’d collected working their way underground toward the Dark Druid. Almost there—now!

  I directed the mercury to work its way up to the surface around his ward circle, and then to flow across the circle, lines, and runes in little rivulets from a dozen different directions. At first, my efforts met with resistance. I mean, if it was that easy, wizards and witches would just toss globs of mercury at each other when they wanted to break another magic-user’s wards.

  I needed some serious juice to make this work, so I connected the mercury with the power of the Druid Oak and pushed in on the Dark Druid’s wards with every bit of will I possessed. This effectively turned the mercury into a sort of magical grounding circuit that shorted out the Dark Druid’s wards while siphoning energy off. Instantly, his protections fell away and the shimmering wall of translucent silver magic was gone. Temporarily weakened, the necromancer stumbled to his knees, the result of a great deal of magical energy draining from him all at once.

  Now, to use his tactics against him.

  I rolled out from behind the column and threw Dyrnwyn in a flat trajectory. As it left my hand, the blade lit up like a blow torch from hilt to tip. Everything I had went into that throw, and the blade sailed like a missile, spinning through the air and crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Dyrnwyn’s white-hot blade sliced through the Fear Doirich’s neck, severing his head from his shoulders and cauterizing the wound as it did so.

  The blade finished its trajectory by burying itself tip-first in the wall of the cavern beyond. The Dark Druid stood there for a moment with a surprised look on his gray, black-veined, decaying face. He opened his mouth to speak, then his head tumbled off his shoulders, bouncing to the floor and rolling to a stop on its side several feet from me. As for the rest of him, the lot of it collapsed in a heap of dust, bones, and parchment-dry skin behind him.

  My leg was still bleeding, but it was beginning to heal, so I pushed myself off the ground and limped over to where the Dark Druid’s still very animated head sat. He glared at me as I approached, his jaw working as he spat silent curses or spells at me—I couldn’t tell which. With no voice to speak nor hands to gesture, the Fear Doirich was now as powerless as a newborn.

  “Damn, that’s messed up,” Larry said as he coalesced into view on my right. “You’d think getting your head cut off would do a guy in, ya know?”

  I stared down at the Dark Druid’s severed head. It was shooting daggers at me with its eyes and silently cursing me to seven different hells all at once. Although he was harmless in his current state, it occurred to me that so long as the thing was alive, I’d never truly be rid of him.

  My mind quickly ran through the many ways I might do him in, just as quickly discarding each. In every scenario, the possibility remained that someone or something would locate whatever was left of the Dark Druid’s remains and resurrect him. That was not a risk I was willing to take.

  Boy, would he be pissed if he came back after I killed him. Naw, I need to make sure he doesn’t return to haunt me, ever. Time to follow through on that deal I made.

  I closed my eyes and located a thin, shadowy thread of magic that had connected me with Camazotz’ prison since he’d allowed me to leave with my life. A small tug on that thread was enough to trigger the minor alterations I’d made in La Onza’s containment spells, changes that were small enough to escape her notice. And once my spell had been initiated, the wards that kept Camazotz trapped in the shadow world inside La Onza’s cave disappeared.

  Immediately, the bat god stepped through a magic portal before me.

  “You kept your bargain, Mago. What is your price?”

  I pointed at the severed head at my feet. “I need to make sure this one dies, for good.”

  The bat god crossed his arms, cradling his chin in his hand as he considered what remained of the Dark Druid. “Hmm… powerful magic preserves him, even now that he has lost his body.” Camazotz turned to look at me. “Did you consider burying it?”

  “I did, but I was concerned his friends would come along with another body. He’s kind of connected in the world of the Celtic gods.”

  Camazotz rubbed his chin. “Yes, that’s a possibility. You could burn it, until nothing remained.”

  “I thought of that too, but I have the same concerns. His spirit would be tied to this place then, and if someone came along and gathered his ashes, well—”

  “The Void, then. You have access to it. Toss his head in.” Camazotz brushed his palms off. “Done.”

  I shook my head. “Too risky. The things that roam out there—all it’d take is for some eldritch symbiote to find him, and I’d have a far more dangerous enemy than he was before I cut his head off.”

  The bat god raised a hand. “I see your point. I am a god of death, after all, so I could break the spells that preserve him. But, if he’s as connected as you say—”

  “You don’t want to take the blame for killing the Tuath Dé’s pet druid,” I finished for him.

  “It could cause complications I do not need, so soon after being freed from my prison. In my current weakened state, I would not care to risk it.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  Camazotz whispered to me behind his hand. “By the way, is the bald coyote with mange a friend of yours? I could use a quick snack.”

  “That’s it, I’m out of here!” Larry exclaimed, disappearing.

  I chuckled. “Sorry. I owe him a debt, so if you could avoid eating him I’d appreciate it.”

  “As I owe you,” the bat god stated with a nod. “And Camazotz pays his debts. So, I will take the head of the necromancer with me, and keep it safe and hidden until you have the means to dispose of it yourself. Does this even the scales between us to your satisfaction?”

  “It does, mighty Camazotz, bat god who is the night.”

  “Indeed,” the giant bat-guy said, scooping up the Fear Doirich in one huge hand. He inclined his head in my direction. “Farewell, Mago. Until we meet again.”

  “Goodbye, Camazotz.”

  With a wave of his hand, another portal appeared. The bat god stepped through it carrying the Fear Doirich’s head tucked under one of his ginormous arms. Even as they departed, the damned thing was still glaring and cursing at me. I flipped him off, purely for shits and giggles.

  Petty, I know—but it felt good just the same.

  “Beware, Bob Kane,” I heard Camazotz mutter in
a dangerous voice as the two of them winked out of sight. “The night comes for you.”

  After the portal closed, Larry whispered from the darkness.

  “Is the scary roided-up bat freak gone?”

  “He’s gone, Larry.”

  “Thank goodness,” he said with relief. “Got any Funyuns?”

  21

  “You did what?” Upon hearing that I’d freed Camazotz, La Onza was livid, as I’d expected. “You broke your word, even after I helped you defeat the Dark One!”

  “Now, hang on a minute—I kept my word,” I said. “To the letter, actually.”

  The small-statured witch fumed as she paced back and forth across the tunnel. After the fight, we’d found her waiting for us near the main shaft where we’d entered the mines. Larry sat nearby, ignoring us as we argued. La Onza stopped pacing and got in my face, pointing her index finger at me as she read me the riot act.

  “You told me Camazotz would remain to guard my cave and the portal to the underworld, did you not? Yet now, he is free from his prison—and free to hunt me, and the people I protect.” Her eyes flashed gold as she glared at me. “What do you have to say for yourself, druid?”

  “I told you camazotzes would guard your lair—and indeed, they will. A few of Camazotz’s offspring are still around, also known as camazotzes, plural. And he promised to send them in his stead to guard your place. Problem solved.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her irises took on a deeper shade of gold. “And the bat god, when he decides to seek revenge? What should I do then?”

  It took an effort to keep myself from sighing with impatience.

  Probably not a good idea—she might try to turn me into a frog. Or Larry.

  “I spent a good deal of time negotiating the deal I made with Camazotz. Among the terms of that agreement were stipulations that he was not to seek revenge on you, nor was he to prey on the inhabitants of the areas you protect.”