by Bonnie Watts
Jeff replies. “Lucifer belongs to them, Jerrie. They legally can say you refused to return their very valuable property.”
Without meaning to, I gather all my magic to me, causing it to spark like out-of-control electricity into a halo of power. All of those different magics were never meant to be combined, and the temperature of the room starts rising to the point of discomfort.
“They had better not try to take him from me, or they will need a new set of royal demons in Hell.”
We hear an “Arooooooo” in the distance, and Lucifer appears in full fighting mettle, his teeth bared, blue eyes turned an encompassing red, fur puffed up to twice its original size, looking for an enemy to kill.
It was Lord Cirwin who speaks first. “Calm yourself, my Lady! He thinks someone is threatening you and is ready to go into a battle frenzy! If he does that, he could kill everyone here without meaning to do so!”
Where is enemy? Hurt Jerrie?
Kill! Where?
NO Lucifer! No enemy, baby! Calm down with me. I got angry at the thought of losing you.
I’m not lost. Lucifer’s here. You White Dragon, I Familiar. We together forever. I chose you. No one takes me away. They try, we kill together.
I look up at everyone. “He just told me that I am the White Dragon and he is my Familiar, and that he chose me, that no one can separate us now.”
Jeff looks at Dragon. Dragon looks thoughtful.
Lord Cirwin says to Jeff, “Dr. Siniocor, could you please research sentience regarding White Dragon Familiars? I seem to recall there was something the Wizard Council determined on that issue about five-thousand years ago.”
Jeff turns to a laptop computer and types in a request, then searches down the list. He reads for a few minutes, nods, then smiles.
“Your Hellhound just announced himself as a legal sentient, Jerrie, by the definition passed into law on 1356 b.c. by the wizard council on animal vs. sentience, regarding a White Dragon whose Familiar was a unicorn. Make a memoryscape of this conversation, we’ll keep it ready, and if the Demon Council ever pushes the issue, we’ll have proof and precedence that he’s sentient.”
I make the memoryscape, petting Lucifer all the while.
Lord Cirwin speaks up again. “I never answered your first question, my Lady. My sister is married to King Guiddion. She’s the Queen of the seeley Court.”
“The Queen? Well, it’s a good thing she is, because now Avalon is going to benefit by getting their own kennel, if the Council approves.”
I turn to Dragon. “Dragon, did the funeral go well?”
“It did. Cuchulainn and I made an announcement right afterwards regarding the six witches that I understand tried to kill you last night?”
I sigh. “There are bound to be pockets of sympathizers. Look at what happened to our druids.”
Jeff snaps his fingers. “I forgot to tell you. They sent me a message. They’re back in with the others, and there is a new Head Druid.”
I smile at that. “Excellent.”
Dragon, looking rather thunderous, won’t be sidetracked. “Don’t try to minimize this, Jerrie. I was the one who had to dissolve the residue of that spell they tried to throw at you last night. It was the peiriant rhwygo papur wedi'i enaid spell.”
I look at Jeff. “Shredder of souls.”
Lord Cirwin gasps when Dragon says the name of the spell in Welsh. “Did anyone check Lucifer afterwards for residue? He could have absorbed some of the spell!”
The elf suddenly straightens up in shock, while at the same time, my Familiar turns his noble mastiff-shaped head towards his new Houndmaster.
We all watch as unbelievable joy suffuses the face of the elf lord, and he returns to himself once and for all. His eyes, once so pale as to be almost icy in color, are now the cool deep blue of a lake in summer. He actually grins at us!
“Lucifer just informed me you had him shielded to protect him against the magic. It is his job to protect his White Dragon, so I must not fuss when he is just doing what needs to be done. He spoke to me, mind to mind!”
“They are telepathic, after all.” I say with a smile, scratching Lucifer behind his ears.
Good boy. You made him well, Lucifer.
He was sad. He misses his old hounds. I miss my litter mates too. I understand that. But I chose you, and you chose me. He needs to know I must protect the White Dragon. I knew if I spoke this way to him, he would be less sad. He is Houndmaster.
Would you like to have other dogs to play with? We’re thinking of bringing many more in for him to train.
Lucifer looks up at me.
Good. Soon, we will be too busy for training much, and Houndmaster must have hounds or he will be sad again.
Tor breaks in the conversation.
Fred wants to see us. All of us. He wants you to include Lord Cirwin as well. His age and his nearness to the seeley throne makes his insights valuable.
How do we all get there?
Touch me, of course. Just get your bodies comfortable first. It’s liable to be a long chat.
Okay, I’ll set it up.
“Everyone, Tor just told me that Sir Frederick has requested a conference with us all, including you, Lord Cirwin.” I turn to the elf.
“Sir Frederick Gallows? I knew you were a necromancer, but taking living beings into the otherworld is impossible unless…” He looks at the hilt of the Sword of Power that lay in the harness on my back. “It’s a spiritual conduit to the otherworld.”
“Close. To a special otherworld created for Sir Frederick’s spirit to live that’s directly connected to the sword. All we need to do is touch the sword and our spirits will go there.”
Lord Cirwin bows to me, and in that moment, I can see beyond the simple Houndmaster to the High Lord of the seeley court he still is.
“I am at your service if you need me for anything, My Lady White Dragon, just ask.”
The subliminal gong of a magical contract rang throughout Avalon at Lord Cirwin’s pledge of fealty to the White Dragon. For despite the simple words, that is what it was.
At the seeley court, Ceresa, the Queen of the elves, looks up when she hears and feels the deep sound that tells her of the creation of a new magical contract as binding as death. The ancient Queen is well versed in all things magical as well as political, much more so than her politically rather naïve brother. It had kept her in power in the ruthless and deadly politics of the seeley court and kept her enemies out of power. It had also cost her the company of her much beloved twin brother.
“Brother, what have you done?” She murmurs to herself.
When Lord Cirwin pledged his service to the White Dragon, he had unknowingly bound all of those elves who had pledged their fealty to him to Jerrie’s service as well. For when Lord Cerwin had called himself “of Granger” when they met, those words had been literally true. He was, in fact, the Duke of Granger Saighn, an old and honorable title in the seeley court. He had left the court to avoid embarrassing his sister the Queen, but his title and his rank had never been revoked.
We all go into our new living area, and with the brownie’s help, make an intimate circle of comfortable chairs.
Lucifer, go to Sir Frederic, I’m going there, okay?
Okay, Lucifer go.
“Now, we need to all touch Tor at the same time.”
Tor obligingly stretches his blade so we all can reach him simultaneously.
The otherworld that is the Founder of the Order of the Knight Protectors, Sir Frederic Gallow’s spiritual home, is pretty bland. A greyscape with little scenery, it leaves a lot to be desired as a permanent home for a spirit.
We all become aware again quickly. Tor is in his persona of a fiery sword that is his spirit form.
Sir Frederick is still wearing his worn Champion Knight Protector surcoat with the rank badge of an Order General. The first Order General, actually. He is all muscles, built powerfully like a professional wrestler, with amethyst eyes that shine with magical power. His h
air is a mixture of blond and grey.
He is also throwing a red ball for Lucifer, who is ecstatically running to catch it.
I smile. “Where’d you get the ball, Sir Frederick?”
“He brought it with him.”
I look at Lord Cerwin. “Lord Cerwin? A Hellhound with a rubber ball? Let’s hope those demons never see this.”
I glance over at Jeff, whose spirit is dressed in his Knight Protector’s surcoat, and see he is staring at Sir Frederick in awe. My Knight Protector-selkie is essentially giving off vibes similar to that of a trekie fan meeting Mr. Spock or Captain Kirk in real life. Live long and prosper, Sir Frederick.
I take his hand, startling him out of his fugue state.
“Let me introduce you.”
“Sir Frederick Gallows, please meet the Knight Protector- Selkie who saved my life and made the White Dragon prophesy about me, Dr. Jeffrey Siniocor. Jeff, I don’t need to tell you who this is.”
Jeff shakes hands with the Founder, blushing. “It is an incredible honor to meet you, Sir.”
“No, Dr. Siniocor. The honor is mine. That one of my Knights saved a White Dragon’s life makes me unbelievably proud, son. Thank you. I know her sister Georgie Spears also did so at the cost of her life, but at least I can thank you, personally. You did well, Knight.”
Jeff’s face flushes, but he glows with pride at the praise, and he looks over at me, his feelings for me clear on his face.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly let her drown in the Atlantic Ocean, now could I? All that magic was like a beacon in the night to my seal self.”
“Sir Frederick, the last dragon shifter and black Imperial Chinese dragon, Tsu Ching Tso.”
Sir Frederick gives Dragon an odd look. “You, I’ve heard quite a bit about from Tor. I thank you for keeping him company while he was stuck in that tomb, I think.”
“I just wish I had known he belonged with your Order, Sir Frederick. I would have returned him if I had.”
“You didn’t know, Dragon, and now we need to move forward. Don’t distress over what can’t be helped.”
I didn’t need to introduce Lord Cerwin. Apparently Sir Frederick and the elf were old friends.
“Cerwin, I am glad you will be helping the White Dragon. I have a feeling we will need everyone in this before the end.”
“You think it might be like the air elementals?”
“As all-inclusive as it was with them, yes.”
While those two are speaking, I am using my spiritual healing magic and my Knight Protector magic to work at the magical bindings of the spell keeping Tor’s spirit bound into sword form. It goes as far down as the molecular level and takes almost all of both those magics to unbind the spell temporarily. But it does work, finally, though the spell almost tapped me out.
Tor’s spirit appears in front of us. He’s tall, taller than Dragon’s six-feet-five, but instead of the broad shoulders of the born warrior, he is built lithe like a bean pole, more like what you would expect in a scholar. Since he is a wizard and a mind healer, I’m not surprised at his looks. He has vivid grass green eyes in a face so handsome it is almost ethereal. His eyes glow with magical power. They also turn like magnets to iron towards Sir Frederick, who is still talking with Lord Cirwin.
“Everyone, meet the Wizard Torlean, the last Soul Singer.” I say aloud through my fatigue.
Sir Frederick straightens and turns almost reluctantly as though he is afraid to look.
Tor’s voice is exactly like his mind-voice, a pleasant tenor. “Are you afraid to see me after all these years, Fred?”
Sir Frederick turns and sees his lover, then stumbles over to him, taking him into his arms forcefully.
“Commere you!”
“Everyone, let’s give these two a few minutes of privacy.” I turn away, swaying as I do so. Dragon is next to me and grabs me before I lose my balance.
“What’s wrong?”
“The release spell took a lot of magic and I’m still maintaining it. I’m just tired is all.”
Dragon touches the sword gently.
“That was a level twenty spell that put Torlean in that sword. I’m surprised you could lift it even temporarily by yourself. Here, let me take over the maintenance for the rest of the meeting.”
“You can’t. Part of it is spirit healing magic and you don’t have that.”
“No, but I have something similar that fuels my glamor spells. Jerrie, let me take it over.”
Jeff spoke from behind me. “Let him, Jerrie. You’re starting to fade.”
“I am? Okay. Here it is.”
Dragon took on the release spell, but we could see that even the powerful shifter wouldn’t be able to hold it for more than a half hour, if even that long.
We don’t have to interrupt the two lovers to let them know their time is limited. They come to us.
Arm-in-arm, the heroes walk over and Frederick, who still has tear tracks down his face, says to me, “Lady Jerrie, thank you for this. But we see how much it cost you. Let’s get on with this meeting. Tor told me your idea about reviving his body and healing him and possibly mine. I was dead when they buried me. Reviving me won’t be possible unless you can do miracles, and though you are one of the most powerful White Dragons in history, none of them were ever miracle workers. But Tor’s body wasn’t completely gone when they put him in the tomb. If you can negate the spell that put him in the sword and heal his body, then his soul should return to its body naturally, or with your help.”
The Founder looks at Dragon.
“You are correct, Dragon, the spell putting Tor in the sword is a twenty-witch spell. But there is a counter-spell for it that was placed on Tor’s body. Part of a prophesy I made at the time included the fact that the soul singer would be needed again in the future by a White Dragon. The coven leader thought I was crazy, but he followed my instructions and created the counter-spell, then left it on Tor’s body.”
Sir Frederick looks at all of us.
“Seeing you all here together like this, with your unusual magics and skills, makes me fear what is to come greatly. I dearly wish I could be there to fight it with you.”
“You can, Sir Frederick. I might not be able to revive you to life. But I can bring you back as the living dead. Your body was placed in stasis when you died. If I heal your heart, bring your spirit back into it, then keep a constant stream of healing magic running through it, it would be just like you were alive. Your body wouldn’t work completely like it did when you were last alive, but you won’t be a, well, a rotter.”
Jeff objects. “I thought you told me it hurts you to make zombies, Jerrie.”
I look at my selkie. “It hurts me to make zombies against their wills, Jeff. But if Sir Frederick wants to be here to fight with us, it won’t be against his will.”
Lord Cirwin speaks up. “But keeping that stream of healing magic to maintain his body would weaken you, would it not, My Lady?”
“I don’t think so. Once in there, it won’t take much to maintain its condition. That will be a combination necromancy and healing spell. It won’t even be uncomfortable for Sir Frederick. It will feel like his normal body, except he won’t have to eat, drink or sleep.”
Tor blurts out, “What about, um, other things?”
Both men blush crimson and everyone else breaks out laughing.
“Don’t worry, Tor, I’ll make sure to keep the blood flowing to every place important.”
“Let me think about this, Jerrie. Becoming a zombie is a big step for me, one I’m not sure I’m comfortable with. I’ve fought too damn many of them in my life.”
“Take as much time as you need, Sir Frederick.”
Right then, Dragon starts fading.
“I’m sorry, Tor, but you have to go back in now, sweetie.”
The two lovers say their passionate goodbyes and the sword, which had turned a dull bronze color, becomes a fiery green again as Tor’s spirit disappears. We all say goodbye and leave the spirit world b
ehind.
-3-
Liam has a huge meal ready for us when we get back to our bodies. He fusses at all of us, especially at Dragon and me, fierce in his affection and worry. What surprises me the most is that when Lucifer appears, looking exhausted with his ball still in his mouth and his tail dragging, the brownie fusses just as loudly at him.
I didn’t think he liked Lucifer much. I guess I was wrong. How are you doing, Tor?
The brownie’s proud of the family he serves. Lucifer’s part of that family now. I’m okay. He looks older, but not as much as I thought he would. You healed him well during your test. His nose definitely looks better. Though I’m not used to looking at him through my eyes.
His spirit looks the way he sees himself. He actually only lived fifteen years after you were put into the sword.
Such is the fate of heroes like Fred. They care so much and give their lives so cheaply, like bright stars that burn out fast.
Not that cheaply. Because he did it, a half-selkie Knight Protector was able to save the life of a White Dragon. Jeff couldn’t have done that without your Fred’s Final Glory Spell, just like this White Dragon wouldn’t even exist at all without my sister’s Final Glory Spell. This world still owes a lot to Sir Frederick, and to you.
While we were eating our huge meal, Maggie Neverstill, the brownie who is acting council leader appears in front of us.
“Hi Maggie!” I am happy to see my friend, but right now I just want a quiet meal and a nap. That spell to free Tor had killed me.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve had some communications we need to answer fast.”
“Communications? From who?”
“Lorang, the head of the Wizard Council and Ceresa, Queen of the seeley Court.”
I glance at Lord Cirwin.
“What does Lorang want with Avalon?”