Lorcan held out three small black bags, the ones the faeries used to store things. “Here. Well, not the wagons. Your trek through the mountains was too adventuresome for those. We left them in the woods two weeks ago and stabled the horses in a town.” He waggled the bags in the air. “Here are our books and scrolls. The faeries gave me these when I was distraught at having to pick and choose what to bring.”
It seemed that the faeries gave everyone access to their bags except me. I was going to have to have a talk with them when they got back. Maybe if I could put my stupid sword inside one it would stay put. I glared at it. The dang thing had shown up not when there was a fight, but when I was being drowned. And it was lingering now. Mocking me. I turned back to Lorcan as he pulled out a dozen dusty books from the first bag, then a mass of scrolls from the second. The third he tucked back into his cloak.
I raised my eyebrow in question.
“A certain chest.”
“Ah.” It was a good thing the chest with the items from the followers of the Dark had its own bag. I didn’t know if it could contaminate other items, but better not to take that chance. I, personally, would have liked to have seen that third bag and its contents dropped into the pit that dragon construct had come from.
Which reminded me. I turned to Covey, Padraig, and Alric. “Oh, shouldn’t we tell them about the dragon?”
Lorcan had been arranging his book and scroll collection for whatever presentation he’d created and Mathilda was examining each item, but both looked up in shock when I said ‘dragon’.
“There was a dragon?” He looked to each of us. “That really should have been addressed right off.”
“A dragon construct,” Alric said. “Supposedly whoever was behind grabbing Foxy claimed it was a construct from the Ancients. One that was a representation of what they really looked like. I doubt that last part, but it was an impressive construct.”
Padraig nodded. “With Ancient inscriptions engraved into it. I couldn’t read enough to determine if they were spells or not. Considering that it was moving on its own, we can presume they are.”
Lorcan studied the map and his scrolls, then us. “This is important, but it can wait. Perhaps we should go see the construct now.”
“There won’t be much to see,” Padraig said. “The cavern filled with water and, judging by the amount we faced, I’d say it will stay filled for some time. The normal flow of the aqueducts has been altered by someone looking for something down there. They were using Foxy and his companions as slave labor. Since they were still at it, I’d say they haven’t found what they were looking for. Not to mention the hole the dragon construct came out of was completely flooded.”
“I’m assuming it will drain out eventually.” Alric looked down as if he’d just realized he was still in damp clothing. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his pack and went into one of the rooms.
I took the time to study the map further as the others discussed a future trip to visit the dragon. Although it had moved forward, it never came out of the hole. Why the Ancients would put a guardian construct in their aqueduct was a question we’d probably never be able to answer. The syclarions were dragon-like enough that something of that sort wouldn’t scare them, but there was a good chance it did more than scare when it had full power.
The map was an old one, and that wasn’t just a guess on my end because of the curling at the edges. The buildings were fewer. The area where my house was showed nothing but trees and farmland. Considering my house was at least fifty years old, that put this map up there in age.
Interestingly, it also had outlines of the ruins, and areas of the ruins that I knew hadn’t been dug up during my time—nor prior. If this map was, say, eighty years or older, then that put it before the current era of elven ruin digging. The big explosion of elven lore that fueled the expansion of Beccia. But the ruins weren’t investigated much prior to that, so why were they outlined on this map?
“Where did this map come from?” I kept looking at it, but Lorcan broke off his other conversation.
“Foxy had it. Amara showed it to me while you were gone.”
Covey nodded. “I’ve been in Beccia for thirty years, but Foxy was here way before me.” She looked around at the pub and for once didn’t look like she wanted to go wash her hands. “This pub has been here over a hundred years.”
As she spoke I noticed the tiny sign for the Shimmering Dewdrop on the map. That was another change, there was only it, and two other pubs on this street, now there were over ten.
Foxy had been in the kitchen since we’d come back, but the repetition of his name must have caught his attention. He came out with a smile and went for the bar. “Ale anyone?” He looked around, noticing Bunky and Irving dormant in the rafters. The constructs did need down time to recover their energy, and until we’d found Mathilda, they hadn’t shut off once in the month we’d been on the road. They’d earned some serious recharging time. “Will they be okay up there? And the faeries still be out?”
He didn’t even wait for our response, just started pulling out ale bottles and some of his non-alcoholic apple cider. Covey didn’t drink much.
“Bunky and Irving are fine. The faeries are doing a recon of the town; hopefully they’ll remember what they see long enough to tell us when they get back.” I thought about taking one of the ciders, but grabbed an ale instead. “How long ago did you get that map?”
Foxy peered over from the bar and scratched his left ear. “When I first came down here.” He dried his hands on his apron and walked over to the table. “Well, after I’d built this place at any rate. So maybe about a hundred and ten years ago?”
“Did they dig in the ruins then?” I tapped the odd markings that looked suspiciously like dig outlines.
Foxy had been grinning at the tiny icon of his beloved pub, but his grin dropped when he looked over to where I was pointing. “Naw, there weren’t any interest then. That area was dangerous. Traps and what not. No one went there. Never thought about it until now. I haven’t seen this map in forty or more years. That Amara of mine is a wonder; she finds the oddest things.”
I looked at him closely, but something told me he wasn’t aware of exactly how much of a wonder his dryad wife was. Most people had never even heard of tree goddesses, let alone know that one was around and cooking for people in a seedy pub. Some people might freak out finding out they were married to a deity—knowing Foxy, he’d just shrug it off.
“Then who outlined those ruins, and why?” Alric said what I was thinking and he looked up with a small smile. It felt weird between us, but now that he was aware of what he’d been doing in his reactions to me, he was dealing with it. Considering that our score was my one time vanishing on him versus his two times vanishing on me, he really had no room to complain.
Covey scowled at the map. I’d told her a dozen times on this trip alone that scowling at inanimate objects didn’t do anything. She claimed that she wasn’t scowling, she was deep thinking. Looked a lot like scowling to me.
“This hasn’t been modified?” She looked ready to climb on the table and get a closer look.
Foxy’s ears flapped as he shook his head. He peered over her shoulder in case the map had changed. “Not that I can tell. Looked like that when I got it. Never thought about them markings much.”
I looked up to everyone. “These are the exact locations of the major digs.” I moved my finger. “But this area is untouched. Including the section drawn heavier than the rest.”
“She’s right.” Alric and I knew these ruins the best of anyone in this group. I found myself wishing Harlan were here right now though. His knowledge eclipsed mine, and Alric’s was limited to what he found skulking about as a spy.
“How does this relate to whatever the mayor and his syclarions are doing though?” Padraig and Lorcan were longtime friends, very long time. But I’d heard enough of them debating while we were on the road to know Padraig wasn’t just asking a question.
“You caught me,” Lorcan said. “That was the right question. As interesting and possibly relevant as those ruin markings are, this is what caught my eye.” On possibly the furthest area of the map from the ruins, way out in the dark woods was a tiny mark.
The shape was roughly a diamond, but I couldn’t make out the figure inside because the entire thing was smaller than the nail on my pinky toe.
“If I may,” Lorcan said as he held out a small magnifying glass.
“Thank you.” I took it, but already had a feeling I knew what was in there. Yup, a lion with the head of a person, a sphinx. When I touched the spot the manticore inside me flared a blast of coldness against my cheek, and Irving woke up and bleated.
Chapter Fifteen
Irving’s bleats grew louder and the icy pain in my cheek felt like my face was going to crack in two. Dropping the magnifying glass helped my pain, but I rocked back and crashed into the chair behind me. Alric ran forward and grabbed my arm, but he flinched. He didn’t release me, but looked like he wanted to.
“Are you okay? Your cheek is glowing.” Once he realized that I’d landed safely into the chair, he released my arm. The look that briefly flashed across his face was anger, but it passed quickly, and he didn’t look like he knew where it came from any more than I did.
I rubbed my face as everyone crowded closer. “I have no idea. But something about that map spot triggered both Irving and me. Maybe that’s where the diamond sphinx really is?” Lorcan and Padraig had been sure they had an idea of where the last piece of the relic weapon was. And it wasn’t this far south.
“I don’t think so,” Padraig said as he glanced over to the map. “It might have started there, but indications show it’s in the Clarthy district up north. Somewhere. Or it should be.”
“But just the location, current or not, on a map shouldn’t have triggered a response in either Taryn or the gargoyle.” Covey went back to glaring at the map.
“Irving, the gargoyle’s name is Irving.” It felt odd saying that I’d named him, but after all, I’d named Bunky. Irving had stopped bleating and drifted down to land on the table near my chair. Bunky woke up and came down as well.
“The relics in both of you are so sensitive that they reacted to the map’s symbol.” Lorcan shook his head. “I don’t think that’s good. The chimera relic augments the other relics. But aside from that, none of them should impact each other. I wish I could see what those two relics are doing inside you both.”
Irving came closer to me. “I can’t tell you what mine is doing, but Irving’s went far inside him after we left you.” I let that hang there. I couldn’t keep pushing off talking about our leaving.
Mathilda looked at me encouragingly, and I swore that behind her a small, white fur-covered head popped up, nodded, and then vanished. That I wasn’t going to talk about. But I had little choice about the rest.
As quickly and precisely as possible, I explained what happened at the Spheres. I kept emotion out of it, including my decision to leave.
I’d kept my head down as I spoke, since seeing their faces as I disclosed my monstrous leanings was going to make it harder.
“The manticore left you when this happened?” Padraig’s voice was unemotional, but when I looked up there was enough hurt and confusion on Alric’s and Covey’s faces for an entire room.
I ignored them and focused on Padraig. “It did. Then it came back when I changed back to normal. I really don’t know what spell or curse I fell into, but the thing I turned into was huge. You ran from me.” That part was hard. I knew once they realized I was that beast they’d briefly seen, things would change.
I wasn’t expecting blank looks from everyone around me.
Lorcan shook his head slowly. “None of us saw you change, or this being you became, or at least we don’t recall it. There was a lot of fog, and the spell of Nivinal’s was affecting us. But something else could have stopped us from remembering it.” He shook his head and waved his hand, a move I knew meant he’d be working on this new problem on his own. “If the manticore came out of you, it viewed you as being dead. Obviously, you weren’t dead, but who you had been was indirectly dead because of the metamorphosis. Very interesting.”
Mathilda had already heard the tale, so she was fine. Padraig and Lorcan were looking at it as an academic exercise. Alric and Covey were looking perplexed, confused, and hurt.
“I left you to protect you. Don’t you understand? That thing I became…I didn’t really have control over it. I felt powerful, but also so distant from everything and everyone. I could have hurt you and not even noticed.” A thought hit me. “Not exactly the same, but it was as if the times we’ve tried dragon bane on me were multiplied by a hundred. Destroying the enemy was too easy, and I wasn’t sure I could tell the difference between friend and foe.” The first few times I’d reacted to dragon bane, there had been some changes to my body. Mostly around my mouth and hands. Not unlike teeth becoming larger and hands turning to claws, like what had happened during the recent change.
“I don’t sense any odd spells on you,” Padraig said. “Have you had any issues since you left us?”
“No. But no massively powerful mage has been trying to kill me and my friends since then either.”
Lorcan came closer and held out his hand over my head. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t sense anything either. You could have the right of it, in that a spell was flung at you. But I’ve never heard of such a type. Transformative spells take a lot of magic. You might have that kind of power buried in there, but you certainly don’t have the training. And I can’t imagine that our enemy would have benefitted from having you transform into something that changed the battle against him.”
I started to nod but stopped. “But he was happy about it at first. When I crashed into the Sphere that he had tried to destroy, he gloated.” Everything had happened so quickly, but the look on Nivinal’s face was etched in my memory.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Alric said. “He was winning. He would have defeated us.” The sour look on his face said how much admitting that cost him.
Before I could say anything else, an explosion came from out front.
Foxy immediately ran into the kitchen and carried Amara behind the bar. She vanished into a cupboard before my eyes. “Stay safe, love.” He grabbed a pike that had blended in so well that it looked like it was part of the bar itself, turned and nodded. “Your friends be coming back for more.”
There was a suspicious lack of yelling in the street, most likely because Beccia had been under duress for a while, and the population took not getting involved to an entirely new level.
Foxy, Padraig, and Alric went to the front door, with Dogmaela standing a few feet behind. Like Foxy, she held a pike, but hers was a few feet longer. The rest of us stayed behind her. So far my sword hadn’t left me—hopefully it would stay that way.
Foxy opened the door with less caution than I would have given the fact things had exploded. Smoke and dust were drifting by, but that was all I could see. The four ahead of me must not have seen anything either, as they stepped forward into the street. I followed, with Bunky and Irving buzzing along behind me.
“Stay down; we don’t know what’s out there.” Unlike the faeries, the two constructs usually obeyed me. Not this time though. Both gronked and shot out over my head.
Covey came up behind me as I stepped out the door, with Lorcan and Mathilda, the only smart ones, staying in the pub. “So much for that. Maybe they’ll find something.”
Another explosion, further away this time but strong enough to rattle the windows in the buildings around us, cut off my response.
This time the smoke was coming from the far end of the extremely straight road. The first smoke was directly across from us, but a few streets over. It was almost dissipated by now; at least enough so that it didn’t look like anything was on fire.
Still no response, that I could see, from the rest of Beccia.
“Foxy? Did eve
ryone leave town?” As if that called them, a group of twenty or so men and women of various species turned to come down the street. They were coming from the opposite end from the recent explosion, but they had an almost mob walk to them. I doubted the syclarions working for the mayor of Kenithworth would bother disguising themselves as a bunch of merchants, but I wasn’t going to count on it.
Bunky and Irving had vanished, but they came swooping back down the road—directly from the location of the nearest explosion. Since the rest of my group was watching the approaching Beccians, I paid attention to my constructs.
Bunky dove close to me and dropped a piece of fabric at my feet before circling above us again. I picked it up, flipping it over to see that it was actually a piece of burnt, and familiar, wallpaper. My kitchen wallpaper. When we’d taken off for Kenithworth all those months ago, I’d set as many protection spells around my house as I could. The house wasn’t much, but it had been mine. Judging from the condition of the paper, there wasn’t much left. A lump grew in my throat, but it wasn’t something I could deal with right now.
The location where the second explosion had been was almost exactly where my house would be. There were other houses in that area, but I doubted if more than one had faded wallpaper with yellow flowers on a sickly green background in their kitchen.
“They blew up my house?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see it or not. Like the first explosion, the smoke was fading. So there was no fire, just an explosion.
Covey looked away from the approaching Beccians. “Why would someone blow up your house?”
“No idea,” I said, then shoved the piece of wallpaper into my cloak pocket.
“Foxmorton, what’s going on?” The crowd of Beccians were upon us, but they stayed a safe distance back. The leaders were the people we’d rescued from the aqueducts.
“You’d be guessing as good as I,” Foxy said. “Anyone see what’s been exploding?”
Foxy hadn’t seen my wallpaper, and I wasn’t bringing it up with this crowd. None of them were brandishing weapons, but they were all armed. I didn’t want them to connect any of us to the explosions.
The Diamond Sphinx (The Lost Ancients Book 6) Page 10