"I do not believe you will have a choice," Flick said. "My master approaches."
"Where?" I asked skeptically.
"There," he said changing back to his female form and pointing ahead of us. "My master prefers me this way. It is best not to anger it. You should hide, I will not give away your position. Consider my offer. This may be your only opportunity."
I followed her finger to where two dim lights bounced along the road at least two miles from our position. Surprisingly, it looked like a car was approaching, although the noise was considerable even from this distance. A white plume billowed from a smoke stack that sat halfway back on the open-air vehicle.
"How does he know where you are?" I asked.
"I am bonded to my master. It always knows of my location. I am surprised that it has decided to find me; my wounds must have excited it. Because I lived, it must anticipate a hefty coin purse, as I wouldn't otherwise endanger myself."
"I don't want any part of fighting your master."
"I understand," Flick said. A look of disappointment crossed her face. She dug into her leather shorts, extracted coins and handed them to me. "I separated the coins. That is your share. You should hide before my master gets any closer. It will be angry that it came out for such a small purse."
I handed my coins back to Flick. "Then give him these as well if it will make you safer."
"Are you giving those coins to me?"
"Yes. Will that be enough?"
"It is possible. But you must now hide."
"Be well, Flick," I said.
"You also," she replied.
I slid down the backside of the hill and crouched behind a cedar twenty yards from where Flick stood.
The noise of the approaching machine grew so loud I began to think something was dreadfully wrong with it. Just as I was about to break cover to see what had happened, it crested the hill. The strange looking vehicle had two rows of seats. On the left, was a man dressed in frilly eighteenth-century clothing, much like I'd seen Gester wearing in my laboratory. On the right sat a strikingly pale woman in gaudily applied makeup, wearing a pink and gold embroidered gown.
The machine wheezed and coughed as it came to a halt. The man pulled levers atop long sticks set into the floor. When he pushed them forward, a spray of smoke exhausted from the back end of the vehicle, whistling as it did.
"Flick, I do believe you overfilled the firebox. Tend to it immediately," the man said pompously as he stepped delicately from the carriage.
"Your servants are so poorly trained, Neferante. I say you should give me possession for a fortnight and they will return with grateful hearts." The woman accepted Neferante's hand as she stepped from the wheezing contraption.
It dawned on me that I was looking at a steam powered vehicle.
"You are right, dear Meriath. I have labored diligently to train them, but they lack the necessary discipline for greatness. Hop about it, Flistican Parato, and bring me my reward for allowing you to roam the western hills."
"Yes, Master," Flick said coming around the end of the vehicle, holding her hand out and bowing in supplication.
"What is this?" Neferante swiped at Flick's small hand, sending the coins into the dirt. "You risk my property for a handful of coins? Pick them up!"
The enraged man's face shifted into that of a demon I very much recognized. While not identical, there was no mistaking the face of a Ghrelin.
"Yes, Master." Flick dropped to her knees to search for the coins.
"I heard that Smaragdinus was on the hunt this eve," Meriath said. "Ask your scamp if it caught sight of that old bag of bones. Perhaps it left a corpse that could be picked over."
Neferante had walked back to the vehicle and pulled a two-foot-long baton from behind his seat. "You heard the question, brainless oaf. Answer it." Quicker than I could imagine, Neferante swung the baton across Flick's back, causing her to fall into the dirt.
She coughed and crawled between the two overdressed demons, plucking a coin from the ground.
"Did you not hear your master or are you too dumb to answer?" Meriath asked.
"It hears me, dear Meriath. It is simply too willful to answer."
My heart raced in my chest as Neferante swung, dropping Flick to the ground again.
Flick cut off a cry of pain and slowly raised herself back to her hands and knees. "I saw it flying by the flesh-eater's cottage. It loosed fire and they were burned."
"It speaks the truth, but it also lies," Neferante chose to kick Flick in the ribs, which sent her sprawling into the steam powered vehicle.
"I cannot lie to you, Master," Flick panted as she pulled herself to a seated position in front of the wheel.
"And yet you do," Neferante said and raised his baton to strike. "I find I grow weary of your half-truths. I will find myself another whelp to raise."
"Let me kill it," Meriath said. "We can take it back to your home and bleed it until the morning light. I can think of no better ending to such an evening."
"I have no other to clean the mess if we do this at my red-stone. Let us take our time here and watch the morning moons rise as we bleed its life into the ground. I have ropes and knives in the trunk to aid us. I had wondered if we might end our evening in this way so I packed many of my favorite blades."
"You are clever, Neferante. I will help you steal a new whelp. Perhaps I will capture another for my own pleasure as we do," Meriath said.
"Very thoughtful, my dear. Now hurry along with those ropes." With a lightning-fast strike, he struck Flick on the temple and knocked her head into the thin, spoked wheel.
It was more than I could take. I'd already allowed Flick to be beaten. But their intent to kill her was nothing I could live with. I stood from behind the cedar tree.
Neither of the well-dressed demons saw me at first, but Flick did and she shook her head and groaned. "Noo …"
"How delicious," Neferante said cruelly. "It's begging.”
"Delightful," Meriath called from behind the vehicle. "Do you want the coarse-toothed saw or the serrated? How much time do we have?"
"We'll start with the serrated," Neferante said as I walked purposefully up the hill.
"No …" Flick's eyes were wide with fear and possibly regret.
Neferante turned from Flick as I inadvertently kicked a rock. "What manner of intrusion is this? You will move along. I am simply disciplining my property."
"Your property has stolen from me," I said. "I demand repayment."
"The strong defend their property. Be gone, flesh-eater, or I will add you to the evening's festivities."
Neferante stepped forward, shifting from human form to its Ghrelin visage.
"Step back into your vehicle and leave this hill. I claim the whelp called Flistican Parato." I tossed my hood back with a flourish, glad neither Neferante nor Meriath could see my shredded pants and missing shirt. "Will you challenge the wizard who defeated Smaragdinus and incinerated the flesh-eaters?"
"We have no knowledge of your ridiculous claims," Meriath growled as she joined Neferante. "We have an agreement with the sorceress of the mountain and know of no wizards. Would you start a war over a whelp?"
"It is either a master liar or it tells the truth," Neferante said. "I am not inclined to acquiesce to its demands, however.”
My mind jumped to when I'd faced Gester in the dungeon. Somehow, I’d pulled energy from beneath Kaelstan and redirected it at him, flinging him aside like a ragdoll in the process. I’d received a searing headache for my effort, but right now, options were limited.
I sighed. "What is it with you Ghrelin. Always a test."
One thing I'll say about the Ghrelin is that they recognize and respond quickly to danger. I had just begun to reach into the ground beneath me when Neferante's baton broke across my stone arm, which I'd subconsciously raised in defense.
Grabbing at Kaelstan's wild energy, I swept it into the Ghrelin’s chest, which picked the demon up and tossed it cleanly over the steam-pow
ered vehicle. Meriath, who'd been holding back a few yards, watched as her companion flew. She made up her mind rather quickly not to get involved; turned tail and bolted. Her dress, a lacey corset and what I believe to have been a wig, sailed into the air as she flung them off. Meriath reverted to her normal ugly demon self and ran pell-mell for town with just a ruffled petticoat on her legs.
I ran past the vehicle where Flick still lay against the wheel and found Neferante trying to pick himself up off the ground. "You dare challenge a wizard?" I asked as imperiously as I could manage, the pain in my head already raging.
"You have no right to break the accord."
"I am part of no accord. Like you, I will take what I desire," I said.
Almost instantaneously, Neferante shot to his feet, leaning forward in his anger. "I do not scare, wizard. I see your pain and I will rot you in my dungeon."
"Wrong answer." I thrust my hand toward his chest, channeling a wild spike of energy. I grayed out and fell to my knees as the Ghrelin's skin sizzled. I pulled energy from the depths of Kaelstan until there was nothing but a smoking hole in Neferante's chest. As much as it pained me to admit, I also felt a rush of pleasure.
"Master, are you hurt?" Flick's cool hands picked my throbbing head off the ground where I'd allowed it to drop.
"Not your master," I grunted.
"You claimed and fought for me," Flick said. "There is no other definition."
"I release you," I said between clenched teeth.
"Shh." Flick placed the tip of her tail on my lips as she helped me lean against the rattling vehicle. My eyes refused to open more than a fraction. “There is a seat just behind you. I will help you in." Her arms were stronger than I’d have expected for her size.
"Where are we going?" I asked as Flick ground the steam-powered car into gear. I sank back into the padded chair and held onto the brightly painted wooden side of the vehicle.
"You defeated Neferante in combat. You are owner of all its possessions. We are going home, Master."
"Stop calling me that," I complained.
I forced my eyes open as we approached the night-soaked city. There was a smell of soot and ash in the air, although that could have been attributed to the noisy vehicle.
The city was filled with brick buildings which, as we got closer, looked less rectangular and more irregularly shaped. The builders had taken license with building codes - or more likely didn’t have any to guide them. Every structure leaned this-way-or-that and not a single doorway or window was square, plumb, or level.
With his tail, Flick drew the flesh-eater's hood over my head as we crossed the steel bridge. Below, a deep ravine separated the city from the plains and hills we’d been walking through. "There is no reason to attract attention," she said.
We passed several other steam-powered carriages as we wound our way down the bumpy, brick-paved streets. The city’s occupants seemed to go out of their way to ignore us and I felt like a couple even turned off down a side street to avoid passing us.
"Stay in the vehicle, Master," Flick said as he slowed to a stop in front of a long three-story row-house. I counted six separate stoops leading up to townhome-style sections of the building. Only two of the homes had garage entrances such as we now sat in front of.
Flick pushed the vehicle's operating levers forward and the steam exhaust hissed loudly. Hopping down from the front seat, he pulled on the mustard colored garage door that was barely wide enough to fit the vehicle. A moment later we drove through the door and rolled down a long, curving ramp that deposited us in a subterranean cavern.
The smell of old blood - and worse things - filled my nose. Flickering gas street lamps bolted into the uneven rocky floor illuminated an area filled with tables. The combination reminded me of my time on Gester's rack.
I relaxed. The relief for my aching head was palpable when Flick finally coerced the steam engine to stop clattering. As he worked at the back of the vehicle, I slid from my seat and joined him. He was scooping hot coals from the engine compartment into a permanent, stone enclosure next to where he'd parked.
"This is Neferante's home?" I asked. "It smells of death."
"We are in the dungeon," Flick answered. "It is where my master performs torture and discipline."
"It's disgusting."
"I also do not care for the smell of blood. Neferante and Meriath are Ghrelin. They take great delight in the suffering of all beings. You should remove the flesh-eater's robe. It is in poor shape. I believe Master Neferante has clothing that will fit you well. The rooms upstairs are more pleasant. Please, come with me."
I pulled off the robe and allowed Flick to help me walk to an alcove where we stepped into a rectangular metal box. There were patterns in the latticed metal sides, but I was in too much pain and too tired to focus. Flick threw a switch on the wall, the box jumped, and chains rattled above our heads as the elevator rose.
The housing around the elevator was thick stone and the sides of the metal car sparked as the skewed surfaces contacted each other. A dim glow announced our arrival on the first floor. Flickering lamps illuminated Victorian furnishings of plush velvet-covered chairs and hard woods. Movement caught my eye, but I was unable to track it. "Are we alone?" I asked.
"No, Master. There are other servants of the house," Flick said. "Pay them no mind, they are just curious."
The elevator continued to the next floor. The shaft had turned from stone blocks to heavy paneled wood with deep scars across the surface, most likely caused by the elevator's unsteady path. As we arrived, the only view was that of a hallway that led past a window overlooking the front of the house.
"Here we are," Flick announced as he flopped one of the two control levers.
As I stepped toward the opening, the elevator car tipped precariously and I grabbed for the wall. The entire upper floor was one large bedroom and I only had eyes for the large bed covered in white sheets and pillows.
"Do Ghrelin sleep?" I asked.
"Oh yes," Flick said, pouring water from a pitcher into a lopsided glass and handing it to me. "Sometimes for weeks. There is a freshly cleaned robe on the hook. I will see about finding clothing."
I dropped my ruined pants to the floor and slid between the cool sheets. The throbbing in my head eased as I fell asleep.
Chapter 15
Gaeland
I awoke to the smell of bacon. My headache had faded to a dull roar, but my heart was racing. I’d dreamed of Missy being carried off by the dragon and dumped into a gleaming white palace, guarded by horrible looking humanoid creatures. The dragon had presented Missy to the beautiful, olive-skinned woman dressed in blue and golden robes whom I now recognized as Adajania. The woman had directed her guard to take Missy away. My dreams often lacked details, but the major theme was clear: Missy had been taken captive.
"That smells good,” I said, opening my eyes. Flick stood rigidly next to the bed, holding a white, wooden platter with an array of breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, three slices of ham and a glass of orange juice. The tray shook slightly in his hands as he stood still.
I became aware of a second presence in the room. A woman. In the room’s only chair, dressed entirely in black, one narrow leg crossed over the other, with the top leg swinging impatiently, sat my mother. I pushed my hands against the mattress and lifted myself to sit against the headboard.
"How far has the stone spread, Felix?" she asked.
The sound of silverware rattling against glass drew my attention. Flick's arms were trembling. The coffee and juice both sloshed from their vessels.
"What's wrong, Flick?" I asked, taking the tray from him.
He shook his head back and forth once, eyes locked on my own.
"Answer my question, Felix," Mom pushed, her voice precise and cold. She was angry, but holding it in. I looked back to her. She was as I remembered - long black hair and a fine-featured face. She wore knee-high black leather boots that poked out from beneath a non-descript, mid-calf skirt.
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I pulled open the loose shirt I had no recollection of putting on. The stone had worked itself into the middle of my chest and reached the base of my neck. "Damn," I swore quietly. "Coffee?" I plucked the half empty cup of coffee off the tray and held it out to her.
"The stone infection will kill you."
"What can I do?"
"It is irreversible," she said. "You must stop using your magic. The spell is leaching energy when you cast."
"That's it?" I asked. "Your answer is for me to stop being a wizard?"
"Well, no," she hedged. "That will just slow it down. A wizard's body always uses magic; it's part of who you are. I'd say you have less than a week. Substantially less time if you continue to burn demons."
"I haven't had many choices lately," I said.
"You did last night," she said. "You had no reason to dispatch Neferante."
"He planned to kill Flick, but only after torturing him," I said. "I wasn't just going to sit by and watch."
"Flick? The worthless Peutering who can't keep from spilling your coffee and is blocking my view?" she asked. "Torturing whelpings is considered sport for demons, especially Ghrelin. This isn't Earth, Felix. Your morality isn't welcome here."
Flick's eyes widened at the mention of his name and his knees shook. I placed the food tray next to me on the bed and picked up his petite hand in my own. He was not much bigger than Clarita and it was hard for me to see him terrified of my mother. "Flick, could you find pants to go with this lovely shirt? And then I'll need you to ready the steam carriage. I'd like to see about finding my friend this morning."
Flick nodded his head and ran from the room.
"Pathetic." She rolled her eyes. "What are you even doing here? How did you end up in Kaelstan?"
"Let's get back to the fact that I'm going to die in a week," I said.
"I should chastise you for trying an enchantment you had not researched thoroughly. The fact you were able to cast it is unexpected," she said. "How did you find it? Why did you try that spell?"
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