“Great. But how do we find its name?”
“We’ll have to go back to the fair. Search around and see what we find. It’s a long-shot, but we have to try something.”
“Yep,” I sighed, thinking of Petal. “We sure do.”
We waited until later that night, after the fair would be closed, to set out. Lilly carefully picked up Petal, wrapped her snugly in her blankets and put her in a pocket of her robes. Petal thought this to be great fun and spent a lot of the walk back to the fair with her head poking over the edge of the pocket, riding along, and singing to herself in her high-pitched, rapid voice.
“Hush now,” Lilly said, when we passed through the city gates.
To my surprise, Petal understood her, stopped singing, and disappeared into the pocket.
“What?” Lilly said. “Brownies are very smart, Petal especially. She’s picking up our language, although she won’t be able to speak it.”
I nodded, impressed, but not really surprised. Of course, Petal would learn our language, she was obviously very advanced.
“Lilly,” I said quietly as we walked along. “There’s something I don’t understand about this whole thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How did you get Petal out of the cage?”
She smiled.
“Oh, that. It wasn’t easy. The spells are there to keep any magic inside the cage suppressed, which stops the Brownies from using theirs. They are very strong spells, but they’re also of the same nature as the Brownies’ own magic. Totally different than what I do, so not quite as effective against me. I used a little pressure, and manage to open a tiny gap, enough for Petal to slip out. I told the Brownies what I was doing, and they passed her out to me.”
“Why not free them all then?”
“It was a tiny hole, any bigger and I would have risked letting Fogwell know I was there and what I was doing. Even what I did was exhausting, and I couldn’t hold it open for long.”
“But what about the whole going invisible thing?”
“Come on, Duke. Do you think I’m that one-dimensional? That’s a first-year spell that any student of magic learns.”
“Huh. Well, no pun intended, but I hadn’t seen you do that before. That’s all.”
“Why?” Lilly said, a playful grin on her face. “Would you prefer not to see me?”
“Nope. I like the view as it is just fine.”
She laughed quietly, since by then we were drawing close to the fair. The plan was to sneak into the tent and talk to the Brownies, to see if they had any ideas about finding out Fogwell’s real name. If he truly was a Fomorii, they might have run up against him before.
The fair was as deserted and quiet as we expected. The visitors were gone for the night and those that worked there should be occupied with their nightly routines. If we could get into the tent without being seen, we could see if the Brownies knew anything that could help us, and then, when we knew his name, confront Fogwell. We’d drive him off, release the Brownies and be done with the whole thing. Or so we hoped.
Across the fairgrounds we suddenly heard a high-pitched squeal that came from the direction of the Brownie tent. Lilly and I looked at each other, and took off running. Petal poked her head from Lilly’s pocket again, looking scared.
We didn’t bother trying to sneak, but burst through the flaps into the tent. Fogwell was there already, as we expected when we heard the noise. We saw him reach out, and his hand went through the bars and grabbed a Brownie, who started to scream. I’ve never seen such an evil smile on the face of a man, as the little figure in his hand writhed in agony. Petal gave a loud, piercing screech and burst into tears.
Lilly, on the other hand, got busy. She never hesitated, but with a screech of her own, threw out her hands and started conjuring. A black mist formed along the ground near her feet, and as her voice grew louder and louder, it snaked across the ground toward Fogwell. He turned at the noise and dropped the Brownie he was holding. His hand came out of the cage and he made a gesture toward that mist. It stopped, and held there, tendrils of it quivering in the air, and slowly started forward again.
His eyebrows rose, and he looked at Lilly with a new-found respect, and gestured again, this time more sharply. The mist was cut in two suddenly, as if an invisible knife came down and chopped the first few feet of it off. The rest recoiled, coming back toward Lilly.
She redoubled her efforts, sweat breaking out and running down her face. Her voice rang out, and winds kicked up in the tent, swirling around her. The black mist started toward Fogwell again, now laced with flashes of light, as if tiny lightning bolts were striking inside of it.
Fogwell looked at it and smiled.
I pulled my gun and shot him. The little metal ball took him in his shoulder, punching it back. He glanced at where it hit him, then at me and casually wiped the spot where he was shot with the back of his hand, as if brushing off a bothersome gnat. The gun had done nothing.
“Soon enough for you,” he said to me, and turned his focus back to Lilly, dismissing me as not worthy of his attention.
Lilly was tiring, I could see that. Her voice, although still thundering in the tent, was cracking and her arms were beginning to drop.
But then, there was another sound, a tiny, almost indistinct noise. Petal was singing.
She climbed out of her pocket and was now perched on Lilly’s shoulder, holding tight to her robes. Her face was turned up, like she was seeing the night sky through the fabric of the tent, and she was singing.
The song wove around Lilly’s incantations. They weren’t identical, but they complimented each other. Lilly’s magic always sounded harsh and cruel, which was to be expected when dealing with death magic. Petal’s reminded you of nature, of birds flitting through branches, or water dancing in a brook. They were totally different, yet, they worked well together.
Fogwell didn’t like this new development. He glared at Petal, and readied himself for some serious magic. He swelled, and his shirt split across the back as he grew taller and broader. His eyes started to glow with a sickly green light.
I shot him again, but with no more luck than the first time. Indeed, he didn’t even notice it this time.
Then I saw the cage. All of the Brownies were lined up against the side closest to Lilly, reaching through the bars. They were singing as well, but their song wasn’t in harmony with Lilly’s and Petal’s. I understood what they were doing. They needed to touch her.
But if Lilly stopped the spell she was working, Fogwell would be free to destroy her, me and everyone else. He may have been immensely powerful, but Lilly’s spell was keeping him occupied. It was taking everything she had, but the black mist was still slowly, so slowly, creeping toward him.
I ran to the far side of the cage, put my shoulder against it and pushed. It hurt like hell. Whatever Fogwell was doing to the Brownies was now being turned on me. My whole body felt like it was engulfed in flame, and I screamed, almost as high pitched as they did. But the cage moved.
It slid, not much, but enough to give me hope. I stepped back, the feeling of being on fire vanished, and I looked down at myself. I was whole, undamaged and unburnt. Whatever that feeling was, it wasn’t real. It was pain, but pain without damage. I could deal with that. I had to, or else the Brownies would be the ones to.
I ran into the cage again, the agony instantly coursing through me. I pushed as hard as I could, legs straining. It moved, and I kept at it, moving faster. My legs churned, and I couldn’t see through the tears streaming from my eyes. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was there. The Brownies were able to reach through the cage and touch Lilly.
Immediately, their song welled up, matching Petal’s. It was like Lilly suddenly woke from a long, refreshing slumber. She smiled, her arms lifted and gained strength and her voice went even louder, becoming deafening. The Brownies’ song matched it, and they both rose higher and higher, intertwining more and more beautifully.
The
black mist surged forward and touched Fogwell. He screamed, and started to change. The mustache went away, sucked back inside a face that darkened and cracked. His skin was black, and that same green light that was in his eyes shone through those cracks. His nails grew long and turned into sharp claws, thick and black. His legs turned into goat’s legs, cloven hooves bursting from his boots.
He laughed again.
“Very impressive, little necromancer,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling. “Not many could force me into my true form. Too bad it will be your last act.”
He raised his arms to the sky and there was thunder and the ground shook and started to open.
“Hey!” I yelled. “LLewgof!”
He startled and turned toward me, and that was all I needed. I had his name. We didn’t even consider that it would simply be Fogwell backward, but the sheer arrogance of it occurred to me. Of course, it would be. It was classic, and if there was one thing about the Elder races, they didn’t like change.
I said his name again, this time to my gun. Then I raised it, aimed carefully, and shot him in the head.
This time, I got his attention. The little metal ball didn’t quite go through his skull, but it rocked his head back. His hands dropped, grabbing at the spot where he been hit, the thunder stopped rolling, and the ground closed back up.
I shot him again, in the chest this time, and this ball did go through. Green blood welled out of the hole, staining the rags of the shirt he was wearing.
Lilly started a new chant, and the Brownies changed their song. It was still harmonious, but now with a hard edge to it. If their song before was of birds and water, this one was of horn and stone. Lilly’s eldritch words fit right in with it.
Fogwell snarled and spun around, trying to escape. I shot him again, in the back of his right leg. He stumbled and before he could regain his balance, Lilly’s spell caught him.
He screamed, this time a horrible, unending scream of rage and started to fade. I could see the grass through him and the wall of the tent. He became less and less real, and his screams were becoming more and more distant. Finally, there was nothing.
No screams, no Fogwell, no singing from the Brownies, or chanting from Lilly, just a lot of heavy breathing and exhausted gasps.
“Wow,” I said. “He was tough.”
“You have no idea,” Lilly said, and sank down to sit on the grass, her back against the cage.
The Brownies looked at each other, and the bars in front of them simply disappeared. They came out and surrounded Lilly, standing quietly and respectfully. She looked down at them and smiled, and carefully gathered Petal off of her shoulder and lowered her down to them.
I sat down next to her and took her hand.
“You’re really something,” I said. “Remind me of this the next time I start to piss you off.”
She half smiled, too tired to do more.
“One question,” I said, “then we’ll go home. Is Fogwell dead?”
“Hardly,” she replied. “Nice job with the name by the way. Good guess?”
“Yep.”
“Thought so. Too easy. No, he’s not dead. I don’t have that kind of power, even with the Brownie’s help. But he’s gone, for now.”
I nodded, not liking the sound of that, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“Let’s go home.”
“What about them?” Lilly asked, indicating the Brownies still gathered around her.
“What about them? They’re free to go home, or wherever they want.”
“They can’t go home, Duke. They’re too far away. We have to take them with us.”
“What?”
“You heard me. They have to go somewhere and we can’t leave them here to cause mischief.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Let them stay with you. You have that whole nasty basement. They’ll make it into their home.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re Brownies! And they’ll make my life a living hell!”
As I said that, I looked down. There was Petal, smiling up at me, holding onto a scrap of the blanket that Lilly gave her. And there, next to her was another Brownie, a young woman with her hand protectively on Petal’s shoulder. Petal said something, and Lilly held the translator up to my ear.
“Go with funny old man and pretty-pretty nice lady?” she asked.
Yep, Petal could understand our language. It made me wonder if they all could, since they all looked at me expectedly.
I sighed, giving in. I knew when I was outnumbered.
INTERLUDE 7
“Wait,” the young man said when Duke finished his story. “Do you mean to tell me that you and Grandmother have been living with Brownies in the basement for all these years?”
“That’s right. All the time your mother was growing up, and all the times that you’ve been here.”
The young man made a skeptical face.
“But that seems impossible. How would mother not know?”
“Weren’t you listening? Brownies are some of the most magical beings around. It was child’s play for them to magic the door so that only your Grandmother or I could find it.”
The young man still looked skeptical.
“Why tell me now?”
“I don’t know. The world has changed, and the Brownies? Well, let’s say that they can take care of themselves now. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Duke rose from his chair, motioned his grandson to follow him and walked into the hallway leading deeper into the house. He stopped in front of a blank wall about halfway down and knocked a certain rhythm on it. A small line appeared at the top, and grew larger, expanding in both directions. It turned ninety degrees at both corners and continued down until it reached the floor, and a door that hadn’t been there a moment before swung open, revealing a staircase leading down.
Duke led the way down the stairs into what was once the basement of their home.
It was transformed. Now there were tiny houses everywhere; on the walls, the floor, and stacked one on top of the other. It all looked chaotic, but purposely so, and Brownies were everywhere that the young man looked. Walking from building to building, working on various tasks and chattering away in high-pitched, extremely fast voices, just as his grandfather said.
At the far end of the cellar, the wall was removed, and the Brownie village extended off into a tunnel that sloped down, deeper into the earth. There was a path leading through the village that a normal sized human could walk on, as long as they were careful.
“Stay with me,” Duke said, his eyes agleam.
The young man followed, entranced by the world that had been beneath his feet for years without him knowing. The Brownies were friendly and polite, doffing hats or bowing to them as they passed. Duke returned their greetings, a smile on his face.
They threaded the path and reached the entrance to the tunnel, where Duke stopped, and softly called out.
“Petal? Are you around? There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”
There was no response for a few seconds, and then a Brownie ran up the tunnel and crashed into the old man’s legs, throwing its arms around one of them. Duke laughed and carefully squatted down, motioning for his grandson to do the same.
“Petal, this is my grandson. And this is Petal, the very first Brownie I ever met, and now the leader of her group.”
Petal chirped something in her own language.
“She says it’s very nice to meet you,” Duke said.
“Very nice to meet you, too,” the young man said to her. “But Granddad, didn’t you say that no one could speak their language?
“Well, your grandmother and I have had a long time to learn. It’s a matter of listening.”
They visited for a couple of hours, Petal showing them around the ever-expanding village and introducing them to her children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and other family members. Fina
lly, it was time for them to leave.
Petal said something to Duke.
“Yes, yes,” he replied. “I’ll come back soon, and bring Lilly with me. I promise.”
They said their goodbyes, wound their way back through the village and up the stairs. When they were in the hallway again, the old man knocked one time on the wall next to the doorway and it promptly closed up and became indistinguishable once again.
“Thank you, Granddad,” the young man said. “That was amazing.”
“Good, I’m glad. Someone has to know that they’re there when your grandmother and I aren’t around anymore. Not that you need to do anything for them, they’re quite capable of taking care of themselves, but still, someone should know. Now, it’s getting late. Tomorrow evening, come on back. We’ll do another.”
The young man said his goodbyes and left the house. When he was gone, Lilly came to Duke again.
“Well,” she said, “how did he do?”
“Wonderful, as we knew he would.”
They smiled at each other, knowing that their friends in the basement would be in good hands.
The next night, the young man returned, brought his grandfather an ale and settled in.
“What’s tonight? Any more big secrets?”
“No, but let’s go upstairs. You can pick something, and we’ll see what we come up with.”
When they were in the trophy room, the young man went from shelf to shelf, looking at the items placed there. He stopped in front of a pile of rushes and pointed, being careful not to touch them.
“What about these?”
“Good boy, not touching. Although those are fine. Good choice too! I think you’ll like this story.”
THE WITCH’S BROOM
Being a good Nuisance Man means knowing which nuisances you should take off the Board, and which ones you should leave well enough alone. There could be a variety of reasons to not take one. It might be because the nuisance is simply beyond your ability. If you’re first starting out, you don’t want to try to take down a minotaur by yourself. Chances are you’re going to end up gored, trampled and smashed to bits. Plenty of new Nuisance Men end up exactly like that, simply because they don’t know their limitations.
Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story Page 19
