by Vance Huxley
Abel wanted to tell Ferryl, but daren’t. The other Leech woman waited in the lobby while Abel went up the lift with just the Firstseed and Ferryl/Claris. Apparently there was already one woman in the room with the key. Abel stopped the one attempt the Firstseed made to talk to Ferryl/Claris, claiming he didn’t want them exchanging code words. On the third floor the Firstseed took them down a long corridor to the end room, and opened the door. Abel glanced inside to find an otherwise healthy-looking woman, sat in a wheelchair with a blanket over her legs. “Magic flows around the object under the cover on the table. None around the woman. The walls, floor and ceiling, even the windows, are webbed with magic. They will be very tough to break.”
“Good, nobody can break in.” Abel nodded to the woman and walked in, still holding Ferryl/Claris’ hand.
“This is a saferoom, except the door has been left free.” Abel squeezed Ferryl/Claris’ hand in reply.
“Before I ask you to open the case, I must pay the courier. This woman undertook a very dangerous journey to retrieve that case and smuggle it here, in return for a service.” The Firstseed walked across to the wheelchair, leant over the woman, and began to vomit up a Leech!
“Hey, stop that!” Abel reached out an arm but didn’t get any further.
Ferryl/Claris whirled and pinned Abel’s arms to his sides, pushing him back. “I cannot allow you to interfere with the Firstseed.” “The woman agreed, and the Firstseed will be weaker in that body. She believes she has me to help her so it doesn’t matter.”
“But the woman doesn’t know. About the pain.”
“It is a bargain. The Firstseed will keep it.” “We’ll take the woman and Firstseed with us, and give her the toad option. Now stop struggling.” Ferryl’s smile looked just a little hyper. “Or I’ll do what Firstseed probably thinks I’ve done, get a lip-lock to seed you.”
Sheer shock stopped Abel. The Firstseed thought he’d have kissed Claris and turned up freshly seeded, easy to subdue? That explained why she wasn’t worried about Abel’s magic, and maybe the comment about him playing with his captive. Meanwhile the erstwhile Firstseed slumped to the floor, her Leech gone, while the new Firstseed in the wheelchair straightened with a smile. “That’s better. The last host had become difficult to keep alive.”
“What about the bargain? Healing and all that.” Abel stared at the tall, slim woman now curled up with a tiny ribbon of blood coming from her mouth.
“Why waste the time and effort on this one? She is alive, and if we pour enough blood into her the seed might save her. If not she will feed the seed while it grows a little, then we will put it into a healthier host when she dies. I cannot allow her to be free, not now she knows about the key.” The woman turned, rolling the wheelchair to the table and pulling the cloth aside. “The key is inside this.” The Firstseed reached out tentatively as if to tap the case, and a fat blue spark snapped at her finger. “This body could touch it while she had no magic, but it has detected the change. Do you still want to touch it?”
Abel didn’t hesitate, either this worked or it didn’t. He touched the case and nothing happened. “Now what?”
“Put a thumb on that latch, please.” Abel did. It stung, then the case clicked and the lid opened slowly. Inside, nestling in what Abel thought must be silk, lay an ornate key. He wasn’t sure if the strange twisted engravings were glyphs, but he’d bet the gems held magic.
“Magic, strong magic, curling round and through the key. It looks very, very dangerous.” Zephyr sounded really cautious, as did Ferryl when Claris’ hand took hold of Abel’s. Abel reached towards the key.
“That is enough, young man. Now the case is open, I will take the key. You will be rewarded.” The Firstseed reached for the key but squealed in pain as blue-green lightning lashed at her hand. She stared at the burns on her flesh, the key, and then Abel. “Very well, you have a bargain. Open the door to Castle House for me and the host is yours to do with as you wish. The youngling will leave her. I will even place the woman under a strong compulsion to obey you, always, if you wish her compliant.”
Ferryl/Claris let go of his hand as Abel put out a cautious finger, more cautious after Zephyr warned him. “The magic is reaching out, around your finger and your hand.” Abel took a deep breath and kept going until his finger made contact. “The flows have altered. They have thickened, swirling back and forth.” Relief coloured Zephyr’s voice in Abel’s head. “The flows have quietened and withdrawn, though your finger is still in them.”
Abel picked the key up. “I’ll make you another bargain. I take the key away with me and we give Claris a choice, stay or come with me. Then we negotiate a price, in gold or something similar because I prefer not to steal.”
Ferryl/Claris didn’t wait to be asked. “I choose to leave with Abel.”
A massive surge of compulsion crashed over Abel, but his ward flashed icy cold and shrugged it away. Though when he looked, it wasn’t him the Firstseed had aimed it at. She stared at Ferryl/Claris in shock. “How did you resist? Youngling, kill the host!” Compulsion hammered down again.
“Sorry, that option won’t work as expected.” Ferryl/Claris put her hand in her big handbag to lift out the large pickle jar with holes punched through the lid. “Yeuk. Nasty.” Inside the toad twitched once more before falling still, blood pouring from its mouth. The youngling leech crawled out, but had no-place to go.
“You have failed the nest. Die!” Even as the Firstseed spoke, Claris’ finger moved on the jar and Abel saw magic glow. The Firstseed stared at the jar and then Ferryl/Claris, enraged, but the anger changed to caution as she saw the glyph forming in Ferryl/Claris’ free hand. Another started to form in Abel’s free hand as he tucked the key away in his pocket.
“Bop time?” As Zephyr flew free to hover over Abel’s shoulder the Firstseed’s caution turned to alarm.
“Very well. You keep the key and woman.”
“No seeding children. We know what you look like, and we know where your lair is.” Abel’s mouth stretched in what wasn’t a pleasant smile. “We also have the phone number of an Archbishop.”
“Worse still, we could let Braeth Huntian know where to come?” Ferryl’s bright smile promised carnage.
The Firstseed began to back her wheelchair towards the door. “Very well. You have made your point. I will not challenge sorcerers and church together.” She shuddered, the first sign of real fear, and eyed Zephyr. “No Blood Leech will risk Huntian.”
“What about her?” As he glanced at the ex-host Abel could see her chest move so she still breathed, but barely and she hadn’t even twitched since dropping.
“Take her if you wish.” A vicious grin twisted the Firstseed’s face. “That one will not survive if you remove the seed, and it will kill her if you do not supply blood. Seed, wake the host.” The woman began to thrash, weakly, and scream. “A present.” She whirled the chair around and shot through the door, turning to head down the passage. As she did the door began to swing shut.
“Stop it! The door!” Zephyr got there first but rebounded as magic crackled. Abel grabbed the edge of the door and hissed at the pain that ran up his arms, but he held on. “Here!” Ferryl/Claris threw a chair, which Abel kicked into the gap between door and jamb before gratefully letting go. He shook his arms to get rid of the remaining tingling. Ferryl/Claris bent to the woman and touched her. “Sleep.” She stopped screaming. Glyphs swirled in Claris’ palms as the sorceress inspected the door, then they shot out to strike the hinges. A slow hissing and sparks came from both pieces of metal before the door swung back open.
Zephyr shot out through the gap, but returned just as fast. “Many people and magic.” Abel looked around the edge of the doorway. Almost by instinct he threw a glyph at the Firstseed’s wheelchair, over halfway down the long corridor towards a crowd gathering by the lifts. One wheel crumpled and it fell over. The Firstseed cried out in pain but rose, hunched over and obviously having difficulty making the limbs work. “Huntian, they bring
Braith Huntian. Kill them!” Abel hit her leg with wind, reluctant to burn a crippled woman, and she fell backwards towards him.
Ferryl/Claris didn’t sound happy. “Curses.” Abel glanced back to see her inspecting the windows. “Can you hold them while I open this?”
“Break it. Use a chair?” Abel kicked the one near the door towards the window leading to a balcony. “Is there a fire escape?”
“Sort of. I’ll need magic, and care. This room would have sealed once the door closed, but now I believe I can unpick the glyphs around the glass. The glass won’t break, not unless you brought three or four extra belts?”
“Just two, as you know.” Abel looked out of the door again, sending a wind glyph to disrupt the glyph pulling the Firstseed down the corridor towards two robed figures with cowls covering their faces. He threw a fire glyph at them, but it hit an invisible wall and did no more than scorch the walls each side. “They’ve got sorcerers and a shield.” He used a quickly formed ice shield to deflect a wind glyph downwards where it punched through the corridor carpet and floorboards. “They are stronger than me.”
“Use fire. Burn the corridor if necessary.” Ferryl/Claris tossed a belt full of magic. “I need finesse, not strength.” When Abel looked again the Firstseed had begun to crawl, but a Ffod shot along the corridor and knocked a hand out from under her. As Zephyr zigzagged back up the corridor, avoiding or deflecting glyphs, a voice called out telling everyone not to harm the Firstseed.
Abel didn’t need a second hint. His wind glyph snagged her foot and dragged her, screaming, two metres towards him. This time, as one of the sorcerers used wind to disrupt his glyph, the other threw tight fire glyphs. Abel dodged back. When he looked again, his blood chilled and he threw himself backwards just in time to avoid a hail of bullets! He stopped worrying about the Firstseed being a woman, putting his hands around the door to send a long blast of fire and wind like a flamethrower towards the gunmen. This time the glance showed the men were actually gunwomen, the two who had been in the sports car. They’d stopped while flames splashed on the shield but raised their guns again when the fire died. Guns couldn’t shoot with the shield up!
Though that might not be much of a help. Vapour boiled out of the air to extinguish the flames and now Abel saw a hulking shape behind the sorcerers. “There’s a Troll, as tall as the corridor and a lot fatter than the baby one.”
“Still a young one, but older so heavier. Smash the floor so it daren’t risk coming forward.” Ferryl/Claris sounded distracted, her hands spread out near one side of the French window. Sparks and puffs of vapour showed she’d been making progress.
“Easier said than done.” But Abel only muttered as he peeped again and loosed fire glyphs at the floor near the shield. The guns, raised to fire, stopped when the faint sheen of the shield reappeared. As Abel fired off more glyphs he noticed the Firstseed crawling away from him again, using the wrecked wheelchair as cover. He flicked it up and over her to hit the shield and dragged her back a few metres. As the chair fell the shield went out, more vapour dowsed his fire and the guns came up. Four pistols now, all held by women.
“Ffod!” Zephyr went down the corridor like a bullet herself, but a crazy ferret-bullet, bouncing off the floor, ceiling and walls while firing off small glyphs. The shield came back up, sharpish, but glyphs arrowed out towards Zephyr and she reversed. The sorcerers were intent this time, the glyphs closing in as she raced towards Abel and he tried throwing counter-glyphs. Zephyr barely made it, zipping through the door and twisting to the side and into her tattoo as Abel diverted another windhammer through the corridor floor. The last two glyphs, unguided now the sorcerers couldn’t see her or them, curved through the door and across the room. One burned off the wallpaper in a big circle, while the other smashed the door on a sideboard.
Abel felt magic drain through his link as Zephyr topped up, and gripped the belt Ferryl had thrown. A glance showed she’d got over halfway round the window now. Another glance, out the door, showed the Firstseed had nearly made it to the shield. Then there’d be a firestorm coming this way. Abel had tried smashing the floor but couldn’t get the force from this angle, but he looked at the two holes punched in the boards near him and smiled. Those sorcerers might be stronger or more skilful but he could be sneaky. “Zephyr, if I throw a glyph out of sight, can you catch it and aim it?”
“Maybe? I have a link to your magic.” Abel explained. “A flying fist of boom!” Zephyr hovered as Abel built a strong, tight windhammer. He fired off a few un-aimed fire glyphs with the other hand to keep the sorcerers occupied. Once the glyph sat, ready, Abel pulled more magic from the belt and started to build a big fire glyph in the other hand.
“Don’t hang about, Zephyr. If this works, it’ll be spectacular.” Abel dropped the windhammer down through the hole in the corridor floor. “Go!” As Zephyr followed it Abel used that hand to send a scattering of quick wind and fire glyphs down the corridor to keep the sorcerers busy. He felt a stuttering down the link as Zephyr pulled magic so controlling the glyph must be difficult.
He knew when it hit, about four metres of floor-boarding and tattered carpet at the other end of the corridor flew up into the air! Stunned by the amount of damage Abel froze for a second, then yelled, “Zephyr, run!” He leant out into the corridor, perfectly safe because the opposition were definitely distracted, and angled his fire glyph through the hole as Zephyr flew out. This one didn’t have to be precise.
Down the corridor the dislodged floorboards were still falling, while the boards partly inside the shield tipped up because they were no longer supported at one end. The Firstseed and a gunwoman were scrabbling for a grip when the Troll slid through the group and down into the hole. One sorcerer threw himself aside but the Troll bulldozed the other robed figure, two gunwomen and the Firstseed over the edge. A ball of fire rose through the shattered timbers as Abel’s fire glyph found a target on the floor below, creating an inferno. Abel couldn’t help flinching at the thought of Creepio’s reaction. His face hardened. The magic belts were nearly empty, but he could spare some for one target.
As the robed sorcerer went over the edge he used wind to support himself across the gap, losing control when flames billowed up around him. Now he clung to a splintered stub sticking out of the wall and his cowl had fallen back, baring his face. Abel’s mind spun when he recognised Elrond. Was Pendragon working with a Leech? Even as Abel formed the windhammer glyph Elrond’s mouth opened and familiar tendrils and then a glistening shape appeared. Elrond thrashed, still clinging on for dear life, as an adult Leech crawled out of the apprentice’s throat. Abel loosed the glyph, splattering Leech blood all over the man’s face.
“Look out.” Abel glanced back and moved over as the entire French window floated across the room and slid into the corridor, on edge. “Our own shield.” Sure enough the other sorcerer and at least one gunwoman had recovered enough to respond, but their glyphs and bullets bounced off the glass. “The glyphs in that glass are good work, better than anything a Leech could manage.” Ferryl/Claris looked out, safely protected, and her face set. Abel stuck his head out, staying behind the glass, just in time to see her small glowing net wrap around Elrond’s head and pluck him off his refuge. With a long scream he plunged into the flames.
At the other end of the corridor, beyond the blaze, another Troll smashed a hole in the corridor wall and a gunwoman followed it out of sight. Abel stepped back and looked at the walls of the room. “It’ll come through the rooms parallel to the corridor, out of sight until it gets here. Can it break this wall down?” The mere thought worried Abel. He’d only been able to hold the rest off because they were at the opposite end of the long corridor, in plain sight. At least the sounds and flashing lights from down in the street below meant the cavalry had arrived.
“It can now, because wrecking the door and window glyphs has weakened the rest. Time to leave before the bonfire gets here as well. Creepio will be upset.” As she giggled Abel wondered if his own fa
ce reflected the manic grin on Ferryl/Claris’. She pulled his hand. “Call off Zephyr. Our transport is waiting.”
The sprite still hovered behind the glass, popping up now and then to fire off small glyphs while shouting “pow, pow” down the link. At least she kept the remaining sorcerer concentrating on her.
“Come on Zephyr.” Abel hesitated. “What about her?” The sleeping woman still lay on the floor. “She’ll burn.”
“Grab an arm. You’ll need the other hand when we jump.”
“What!”
“No fire escape. Use wind to slow your fall.” Ferryl/Claris caught hold of one of the woman’s hands and dragged her towards the balcony. “Come on!” Abel shrugged and went for it. Next time Ferryl said “sort of” a fire escape he’d ask questions. He dragged the remaining magic from a belt, feeling Zephyr flow into his arm even as Ferryl/Claris scattered glyphs ahead of them. “Look out below!” The bottoms of the metal legs crumbled into dust and the balcony railing toppled out of sight. Ferryl/Claris never gave Abel a chance to have second thoughts. She plunged straight over the edge, still holding the rescued woman’s hand.
Abel summoned a wind glyph as he followed, blasting it downwards with his free hand while tightening his grip on the woman. At least she wasn’t heavy, especially with Ferryl/Claris holding the other arm. Abel could feel magic draining away as they fell, slowly but still too fast, and hoped Ferryl had enough left to cushion all of them the last few feet. Zephyr zoomed out of his arm as a shot rang out, closely followed by a shriek above and to the side. A screaming, flailing woman fell past them as Zephyr returned, dropping the pistol before wrapping around Abel’s hand and wrist. He wasn’t sure if the sprite helped with lift, but the extra grip stopped him dropping his half of the shared burden. Ferryl still had a firm grip at the other side.
A sudden blast of wind slowed Abel, and then the pavement shocked his feet. “You were always useless with wind.” Kelis reached for Abel’s hand to drag him towards the taxi, then switched to helping lift the woman because she’d crumpled to the ground. “Shannon is driving. We’ve put the driver in the boot.” Ferryl/Claris dropped the arm she held and turned, her wind glyph lifting a man with a baseball bat from his feet and smacking him against a building. She turned, caught hold of the rescued woman’s feet and backed into the cab. The four men Abel had met before were unconscious or dead, scattered across the entrance to the alley, while smoke drifting out from behind them hinted at more destruction around the back door. Another five men lay scattered along the pavement in front of the building, all out for the count. A crunching noise brought Abel’s head round to see two humps of warped concrete grow out of the step to block the front doors. Rob waved and headed towards him, then stopped.
