Well, Iraine had a lot of good she intended to do. "You know me. Whatever will get the job done. Besides, what's a little magic between friends, hmm?"
"Oh, so now we're friends." Essie fought a grin and lost. Her faded green eyes crinkled at the corners. But the shadow of her hood kept people from noticing their odd color.
"We are sharing a meal. I don't usually break bread with people I'm not friends with."
"Touché." Essie fell silent, and all emotions fled her face. She sat so still; she looked like a woman carved from wood.
"Have you got anything yet?" Iraine extended her hand and rested it on the old witch's forearm to remind her she wasn't alone.
"Oh, I think I might have something but not what you were hoping for."
"Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what you see."
The old woman's eyes had gone as blank as the stone floor. Her irises and pupils seemed to melt into the whites of her eyes, and they took on a silvery glow. That glow slowly crept outward until it limned her in pure light.
"Essie? What do you see?" Iraine shook the old witch's arm gently, and that opened the floodgates.
"A Queen without a throne. A game of spells. A magic so twisted it—gah!" Essie fell forward and would have cracked her head open had Iraine not arrested her fall.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"She bade me give you this." Essie shoved a silver leaf into Iraine's trembling hand.
"Where did that come from? Who gave you this?" It couldn't be who Iraine thought it was, but who else could it be? There was only one tree that bore silver leaves—the Queen of All Trees.
"Take it, and she bade me tell you this as well." Essie paused and seemed to gather herself.
"Tell me what?" Iraine fingered the heart-shaped leaf. It was larger than her hand.
"Come closer." Essie crooked her finger at Iraine. "This isn't for anyone's ears but yours."
Iraine bent her head, and the world whited out in a blaze of glory.
Chapter Ten
What’s the plan? Crispin stopped when the transept ended and folded his arms. The stone ledge turned a sharp right and followed a new tunnel, but not in the direction their quarry had gone. The thief was perhaps fifty man-lengths ahead and the gap was widening.
We follow that thief. The plan hasn’t changed. But it was about to. Eight warm bodies popped up in his scan. Thing had pulled his range in to keep from brushing against the creature inside the shards. Seven of those bodies were mundane, but the eighth had some power. They all stood around waiting for something. Were they waiting for the thief?
Interesting. Thing flapped harder to make up the distance.
What’s so interesting? What do you sense? Crispin strained to catch up. Curiosity spurred him on, and maybe a little envy.
Thing rolled his owlish eyes. Kits today. They wanted to know everything now, now, now. They couldn’t wait to see what developed. Maybe he was being a tad harsh though. He’d grown up in the enchanted forest, not in a subterranean city. Thing put those thoughts away and concentrated on flying as fast and silently as he could.
Dad?
I’m not sure what I sense. Something isn’t right. I need to get closer. Because a cursory scan of the eight minds waiting around in the cavern that encompassed the prison wasn’t giving him any answers. The seven Guardswomen didn’t know why they’d been ordered to stop and stand by a bridge.
And the eighth mind—Thing screeched involuntarily when his mind slammed into the dark veil over that man. He pulled his mind back into his mental shell and slammed the doors to his mind closed. A dark force crashed into that door but couldn’t find purchase. Nor could it crack his manifold shields. Each one buttressed the other allowing them to flex when struck.
The dark creature—a demon maybe? – receded, and Thing opened his shields a little. When no attack came, he extended his thoughts to his son. Are you okay?
Yes, I’m just shaken. So are my shields. I’m so glad you taught me to layer them like an onion. Crispin sent an image of his mental shields. They shimmered whitely just on the edge of visibility, like a transparent onion.
Thing’s shields also glowed white, but his were many times brighter because he was the mind mage of the family.
What was that creature? Please tell me it’s not a demon. Crispin flew even with him through a tunnel that had no cells just caves transformed into offices.
I think it was, but not like the one we faced many months ago. This one is weaker and cannot take physical form for long. I think it’s tethered to those shards or trapped somehow by them. Thing glanced into each office as he passed, but there were no Guards in them, just empty chairs standing by empty desks. Perhaps they were new offices.
Where are the Guards? Crispin sent. They can’t all be ferrying bodies to the infirmary. Water rushed by somewhere ahead.
Seven of them are waiting on the other side of the river. The thief had reached the exit. Thing didn’t see or sense any other Guards nearby, but there had to be some around here somewhere.
They might leave sections of this place temporarily unguarded if they were shorthanded, Crispin suggested as their mark sped through the open gates.
I did attack them twice, Thing reminded his son, but his claws had been retracted. Besides, he’d only wanted to drive them away, not hurt them. After all, they were Nulthir’s work tribe.
The door warden didn’t react to the thief nor to the gray bag slung over his shoulder because his job wasn’t to stop people from leaving. So, the fellow in gray robes ducked under the portcullis and out onto the stone bridge over the moat. Once across, he slowed for a parley.
Thing swooped down to fly under the portcullis, and Crispin followed close behind him. The door warden shouted something and threw the lever to shut the gates, but they were already through them. Silly human, thinking he was faster than a bird in flight. Thing shook his head. Humans were weird creatures.
But the shouting had drawn unwanted attention to him and his son. Nine pairs of eyes—not counting the Guard who’d just shut himself inside the prison gates—locked onto them. The war women unsheathed their swords.
Climb, Thing shouted. He looped his tail around his son’s arm and flapped hard for the cluster of lumir crystals in the ceiling. They stuck out at crazy angles providing plenty of places to perch, and they were bright too. They glowed a soft, soothing pink that leeched some of the tension below as Thing landed on one of the milky pink spars highest in the cluster. The crystals below his chosen perch hid him and his son from view. He released Crispin and held one finger to his beak to signal for silence.
Below, the Guardswomen returned their swords to their sheaths, thanks to a little mental encouragement. We’re harmless birds, not worth your time, Thing whispered in all seven of their minds, and they agreed with him. Good.
Thing peered out of the eyes of the Guardswoman closest to the yellow-robed man. Her mind identified him as a flesh mender, which was a kind of healer who healed people without magic.
Interesting, that man was posing as mundane when he wasn’t. Then again, Nulthir was doing the same thing every time he left his flat. It was an irksome lie necessitated by a stupid law someone should have repealed long ago. Thing cast that thought away and concentrated on the conversation such as it was.
Both robed men were whispering, but there was a spell over them that garbled their speech so no one could overhear. Thing couldn't enter their minds either without provoking that demonic presence again. Stymied, he ground his beak.
Shadows rose from the bag as the gray-robed man unslung it, and those shadowy wisps rose like smoke toward Thing and his son.
Shield! Thing shouted as he withdrew his mind from the Guardswoman and slammed closed his shields. He felt Crispin shut himself behind his shields too then the darkness assaulted them. It clawed at their shields but could not penetrate them. Nor could a creature of shadow withstand the concentrated light of their mind magic for more than a few moments before it dis
sipated and retreated into that bag and those strange shards.
Look, they’re leaving. Crispin pointed. Indeed, the parley was breaking up, but the two parties were going their separate ways.
You’re alright? Thing caught his son’s eye.
Crispin gave him a thumbs up. Who do we follow? The yellow-robed guy or the gray-robed one? They’re both hip-deep in something bad. And that was a problem.
The gray one. We know where the yellow-robed one is going—to the infirmary. Thing waited for both parties to exit the cavern through separate tunnels on adjacent walls then he leaped off the crystal and glided after the gray one.
Right, and we still don’t know where the gray one is going. Crispin took a running leap off a crystal spar and spread his wings.
You’re not going back? Thing glanced at him in confusion.
Crispin shook his head. No, I'll see this through to the end. I have a bad feeling we’ve stumbled onto something big and dangerous.
We might not be able to stop it. They were small, powerful creatures, but even they couldn’t take on more than one demon without a lot of help.
Crispin glided after him, riding the thermal wafting up from a vent in the floor as easily as his father. We won’t know until we get to the bottom of this, and we’re not there yet. There’s still more mystery to unravel. I feel it in my bones.
Thing felt it too, and that worried him most of all. The last time they'd taken on a full demon, they’d had a mage boy to lend them the power to contain it. Even if they saved Nulthir from the dark magic infecting him, he’d still need to find a well of power to access before they could go up against a full demon again.
“Why aren't the lights going out anymore?” Crispin asked aloud. He pointed at a small cluster of lumir crystals on the wall. They glowed a soft pink even after the thief had passed them.
Confound it. He must have gotten rid of the crystals or given them to the mender. Thing wanted to punch something. He should have checked both men with his mage sight or at the very least his infrared sight, but he hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to tango with that disembodied demon again.
“Do we keep following him?” Crispin asked.
I don’t know. Thing flew right over the man, so close, his feet almost grazed the man's hood. But he felt nothing. The bag wasn't cold to his infrared sight, nor to his mage sight. Was it emptier now? Or had the dark, hungry presence inside it escaped?
From above, it looked just as full as before, but it couldn’t be unless the light-stealing power of those shards had dissipated somehow or been nullified. Either was likely with magic.
Thing flapped silently for the ceiling. Somehow, he'd missed something, and that vexed him. He steeled himself for what he might find and dove into the hooded man’s mind.
No dark presence challenged him. But Thing found something he didn’t expect and fled from it. Oh, my Creator, no.
“What did you see?”
Thing didn’t answer. He couldn’t because he had no idea what he’d seen meant.
“Does he know where the shards are?” Crispin asked.
They’re still in the bag, but they're drained now. The darkness is gone. Thing pulled out of the gray-robed man's mind.
Who did he give it to? Crispin shadowed him.
Thing sighed. The mender. This mystery just kept twisting and turning every time he got so much as a toehold on it.
“Then why aren’t we following him?” Crispin back winged to slow his pace.
Because Thing had seen a familiar face in the thief’s mind. Was that person part of this? He must find out because that person knew about his family and could track them.
Crispin switched to mind-speech. Dad? Why won’t you tell me what you saw?
You’ll see soon enough, son. Unless I’m wrong. Please, Creator Spirit, let me be wrong. Thing had never wanted so badly for his magic to have screwed up somewhere and shown him something from his mind instead of the one he’d touched. But magic didn’t lie. Only humans did.
Chapter Eleven
Any moment now, her mate would fly in and put a mental whammy on the creature that had possessed Nulthir. Amal kept one eye on the door as she dove out of the way. Bloody steel claws extruded from the swollen fists of the creature that had been her friend, and he raked them across the stone floor, just missing her flight feathers. They left a red trail behind as the demon-possessing her dearest friend slashed at her again.
Oh, your poor fingers. Amal’s hands tightened into fists at the blood dripping off his hands. She backed away until sunlight singed her blackened wing, making it smoke and stink. So far that was all it was doing. May that stalemate continue because they could barely fight one demon. Two would destroy them.
Another well-placed slash splintered the chair she’d backed under. Amal darted out from under it while Nulthir tried to shake off the remnants of that chair. It was caught in his six-inch claws. Joints popped as the demon reconfigured its new body into a more muscular shape. Muscles bulged along his neck and shoulders splitting the seams of Nulthir’s uniform tunic.
“Will anything be left of him when we oust that demon?” Thistle backed away from the grotesque sight.
“Our friend will be left.” Dale leaped off a shelf above the bed and grabbed hold of the silver spikes extruding from the creature's back.
“He’s right. Where there’s magic, there’s a way. We’ll find a way to free him.” Mixie ran past on all fours. Her slanted eyes were fixed on the mirror and the fuzzy shapes reflected in it.
Of course, the reveal all spell was still active, but how could they use that to their advantage? Amal circled the creature. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. He’s been hurt enough by this creature.” Dale climbed the spikes until he could wrap his tail around the creature's bulging neck in a modified submission hold. Nulthir still wore the dawn rune. Its glow had died out, but the leather thong it hung on cut into the creature’s neck as Dale pulled on it, choking him.
Something about the dawn rune niggled at Amal. There was something she was forgetting about the metal it was made of. She cast that thought aside and dodged the kick aimed at her flank as the creature slammed into the stone wall.
At the last moment, Dale swung away from those spikes, but he lost his grip and struck the wall. He flailed about for a handhold as his tail slipped free. Dale dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, nearly crashing into her. Amal dodged just in time. Ground fighting wasn’t her forte. Neither was it Dale’s.
“Over here, you big oaf,” Mixie called as she jumped up and down on the dresser inches from the mirror. Maybe the reveal all spell would show them a way to defeat it.
Amal checked the door again. It was still closed. Where the hell was Thing? She sent another mental call for help. Come on, you stubborn owl. Quit chasing shadows and help me!
No answer. Why wasn’t His Orneriness answering? What was Thing doing? Amal reached out for her son’s mind, but Crispin was too far away, and his attention was fully engaged with whatever he and his father were doing. She was on her own. Damn them both.
Thing’s plan had probably blown up in his beak like she’d predicted. He probably needed rescuing. Well, she’d worry about that later. She had larger problems right now. Amal darted right to avoid another kick then left to get out of her adopted son’s way.
“Sorry!” Yarn jumped, and the fist aiming for his back missed. He caught hold of a drawer and quickly scaled the dresser to his mate, standing on top of it.
“Follow me. I have an idea,” Mixie told him as they both leaped out of the way of the fist flying toward them. It struck the wooden top, impaling his claws in the hard Shayarin oak. Mixie caught the top of the trifold mirror with her claws and climbed onto the narrow ledge along its top.
Yarn landed in a sock drawer and scampered back onto the dresser. “You want him to look in the mirror, right?”
“Yes.” Mixie reached down and adjusted the panels so they reflecte
d the inhuman creature who was trying to free his claws.
Yarn dodged another swipe and the demon drove the claws of his other hand into the wood, pinning him just inches from the mirror. “Look at what you’re doing to him.” Yarn sat on the creature's trapped hands, adding his weight to it.
The demon froze when his reflection doubled and split revealing the demon’s true face and their friend’s horror-stricken one. There were two beings in the glass—one a human man of early twenties and one a demonic creature with fangs. Their physical body blurred and doubled as they writhed.
“It's working!” Mixie crowed.
“Is it enough to split them?” Thistle asked from somewhere behind them.
“I don't know.” Nor did Amal know what to do next. Nulthir was the warlock, not her. This was beyond her ken.
With a pop and a hiss and a bright flash, Furball appeared mid-air between Nulthir and the mirror. “Neep!” Furball yelled as he plummeted.
“No!” Mixie wrapped her tail around a hook above the mirror and swung down to catch her baby, but Furball dodged her reaching hands. She just missed him by a hair. “No! Someone catch him! Furball can’t fly yet.”
Yarn leaped after his son, but an open-handed slap sent him flying in the wrong direction. Uh-oh. The creature’s claws had faded into a gray mist, leaving Nulthir’s human hands behind, and they were unfettered. Yarn whipped his tail around, turning him cat-quick mid-air, so he landed on his hands and feet only a little stunned from the hit.
Amal rushed forward, but she was too late. At the last second, a large, bloody hand shot out and caught the kit. The same hand that hit Yarn, but the claws were gone.
Furball landed on Nulthir’s hand and stamped his tiny fur-hidden foot. Want my friend back! You go away now and give him back. Furball broadcasted to every mind in the room.
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 138
