by M. D. Grimm
He slowly stood. He stared at the crystal as if it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“Why was that there?” I asked softly into the tense silence. “What is it for?”
Still silent, he pulled out a pure white cloth with silver thread woven around the edges, and there was a distinct protective sigil in the center of the square piece of fabric. I remembered that sigil from one of the books on magick I’d read in Morgorth’s library. He carefully folded the crystal inside the cloth before returning it to his pouch. He closed his eyes, and it was clear he struggled hard to remain calm. He visibly trembled, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes and skin still glowing fiercely. It took a few uneasy moments until his skin stopped shining and his body loosened. He rolled his shoulders and when he opened his eyes, they were dark brown again.
I held out my hand. He stared at it for a moment before taking it. His hand was now simply warm.
“Please talk to me,” I said.
He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, then sat. We faced each other, and he took both my hands before speaking.
“I was afraid of this. I am afraid of this.” He met my eyes. “Dyrc cast a spell to repress your memory of his conversation with you. That proves he wasn’t sanctioned by the council to speak to you.”
“Elorn.”
His eyes flashed. His lips thinned. “Yes. Cowardly dog.” His eyes began to glow again, his skin to heat. I cupped his face in my hands. He considered me and slowly his eyes returned to normal. “I suspect he planted that crystal on you after he messed with your mind. It probably contains a spell that would tamper with the council’s spell. The council’s spell forces you to tell the truth. I’m sure the crystal would have you see images, and then you’d tell that truth instead of the real one.”
I shook my head slightly. “All this. All this to get to you.” I brought his hands under my chin. “If it hadn’t been for my headache, we wouldn’t have known.”
“It isn’t just about me,” he said. “They want Elorn cleared and to remain on the council. And if they show me in a bad light, they can kill two birds with one arrow.” He paused, took a deep breath. “The tunic doesn’t just protect against physical threats. I’ve yet to find an enchantment that can fully protect against spells using hair, but the tunic at least gives warning.”
“My headache.”
“Yeah.”
“You thought they might do this.”
“I knew they’d do something. I prepared as much as I could before we arrived. I didn’t use that month only learning to shape-shift. I made potions, created spells. Practiced spells. I had to be ready for anything. I had to think as if I was the one who wanted to sabotage the inquiry. Best way to do that would be to get to the witnesses and alter their memories.”
I struggled to swallow his explanation. “You didn’t tell me. You shouldn’t keep secrets from me. I thought we were beyond that.”
“I did tell you, baby,” he said softly. “I did warn you.”
I sighed, nodded. “You didn’t go into much detail. It was all vague notions and warnings about accepting drinks and food from mages.”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “I told you that you’d be a target. I wanted you to be prepared, ready and wary. I wanted to reserve the panic and paranoia for myself.”
“I’m a warrior,” I said. “I’m a better fighter when I’m prepared. You know that. You should know that by now. Don’t take my choices away.”
He shuddered out a breath and abruptly stood. He paced away, his hand running over his hair.
“Do you think Dyrc’s plan was to activate the spell in the crystal before or after the council’s spell?” I asked.
“Before. Right before.” He stood with his back to me. “The crystal and the hairs would then dissolve after the spell served its purpose. No one would be the wiser.”
I shivered. Magick was scary. Healing magick could only help but a mage’s magick was a different beast all together.
“What will you do now? Tell Master Ulezander?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He turned to me finally. His expression was rigid, his eyes giving nothing away. “I can play their game, too. If Dyrc came after you, he probably found some way to get to Olyvre. I have to get the crystal away from him before your testimonies. Elorn will know his plan has failed, then. He might do something drastic. Something desperate. He’ll know I have the advantage and he’ll wonder when I will reveal him. I want to keep him wondering. I want to keep him scared.”
His smile made me shiver again. It was calculating and promised violence.
“After Elorn or Dyrc activate the crystals,” I said, “won’t they dissolve even if they aren’t on Olyvre and me? You won’t have evidence.”
“The cloth I wrapped the crystal in acts as a barrier,” he said. “The silver threads capture the words that activate the spell like a spider web catches flies. Though they might activate the magick inside, nothing will happen, even with your hairs attached to them. It also protects against contamination. If I handle the crystal too much, my magick will mix with Dyrc’s. Or Elorn’s, whoever did the enchantment initially. I told you, I was prepared. Thinking like the enemy made me very prepared.”
I was confused. “You said there was no real way to protect against spells made with hair.”
“No practical way. Unless you want to stay in a bubble made from silk fabric woven with silver threads.”
I shook my head. The magick of mages was complicated. “Olyvre won’t know about the crystal, will he?” I asked. “He won’t have the headache I did.”
He shook his head. “No. If Dyrc even used the mind spell on him. I don’t know how Dyrc would handle it, but that doesn’t matter. It will also be a damn pain in the ass to try and reach him without looking suspicious myself.” He shrugged. “Fortunately, you know shape-shifting into wichtln isn’t the only animal I’ve been working on.”
I stood up and walked to him. “This time you will tell me your plan.”
He regarded me. His expression softened, and he kissed me gently. “I love you.”
I smiled slightly. “Sometimes I wish you loved me a little less.”
His expression became serious, even a little sad. “No such chance, baby. My love only grows stronger. As do my fears.”
I hugged him, gripped him tight. He hugged me back just as fiercely. My love for him was intense and passionate. His love for me was scary. He could easily keep me prisoner, and I would have no way to stop him. I would end up hating him as much as I loved him. I desperately didn’t want that. He needed to believe in me. Believe in us. But Dyrc’s spell had shaken me deeply and Morgorth even deeper. It would be a while before he trusted me out of his sight.
Chapter Seven
Morgorth
I was going to kill Dyrc. Someway, somehow, I was going to corner him and strip his flesh away piece by piece. I might even let Grekel and his pack chase Dyrc down like prey. I would like to watch them feast, tearing him apart with tooth and claw.
How dare he touch Aishe! How dare Dyrc touch what was mine, to mess with Aishe’s mind, to use him as a tool to get to me. All my fears were realized in that instant, and I wanted to destroy every single danger to Aishe. I wanted to annihilate them before I let him out of my sight. But I couldn’t. I had to be calm and logical. I had to stay rational or I’d turn into Kierthak: mindless and bloodthirsty, destroying everything and everyone without thought or pity.
One step at a time. Keep going one step at a time. First step: find Olyvre and remove that cursed crystal.
When I told Aishe I’d come prepared, I hadn’t been joking. After chugging a potion, I activated it and shape-shifted painfully into a fasion. A lot was riding on my success, and I was still an amateur to this sort of magick. When the potion wore off, I would revert to my original shape. I had about an hour. If I tried it with only my spell, I’d have to concentrate on too many things at once.
The spell, the energy flow, holding the image of the fasion solidly in my mind... all the things I’d told Aishe about. I couldn’t afford a single mistake.
Flying was a dizzying sensation, and Lansa had taught me well. I used the air currents and flew swiftly to the White Tower. Some mages milled around the base, even though the inquiry wouldn’t restart until late morning. I circled the tower, flapping my black wings, my keen eyes seeing amazing details: cracks in the stone walls, patches of vines and moss overpowering the white. I smelled smoke, other birds, and the sweat of the mages below. My ears picked up sounds of a few mice scurrying around the base of the tower. I would never have noticed any of that in my original form. It annoyed me I had to fight off the urge to snap up the mice and eat them. Yuck. Unfortunately, the potion made me too much like a bird.
I circled the Tower several times before spotting Ollie. He leaned out of the window, his elbows on the window sill. The air ruffled his blond hair and he looked tired and sad. He most likely missed his daughter and might also be worried about me. Then there was the spell to be cast on him, and he was completely unaware of his role as a tool. And he was alone. So alone, surrounded by those who could squash him like bug.
I took a deep breath, my tiny heart pounding. There was another, vital reason I chose a potion over holding the spell in my mind. The magickal barrier pulsing around the exterior of the White Tower protected it from most assaults, and if I’d tried using a spell, it would fracture upon entry. The potion negated the loss of my disguise. Only the front doors allowed entry that didn’t suck a substantial amount of magick from a mage. Even with the potion, enough of my magick would be caught in the barrier like a bug in a spider’s web, and I would be defenseless against a magickal attack. This would be quick. In and out.
I pelted through the open window and felt the sharp tug. I ignored it, knowing the magick taken would return to me as soon as I left. I smacked Olyvre hard in the head. He cried out as he stumbled backward and flung out his hands to protect his face. He didn’t have his boots on. Dammit! Where would Dyrc have put the crystal? He must have put it somewhere close to Olyvre’s body to make sure Ollie didn’t return to the inquiry without it. Must have been sometime this morning, as well, probably right before he targeted Aishe. That meant it might be inside his clothing.
I’m sorry, Ollie.
I attacked my brother, ripping at his clothes, trying to find the crystal. I tried to listen and feel for the slight, miniscule vibration of magick but Olyvre’s cries and jumping around wasn’t helping.
“What in Underworld’s name, bird! Get away! Get back!” He tried to smack me. I barely dodged in time. His beefy arms could throw me against the wall, or if he caught me he could easily break me in half. I used my beak to poke, my talons to yank and rip. Olyvre hopped around and shouted, beating the air.
I’m so sorry, brother!
I found it after a few more pokes. It was inside the seam of his trousers at his thigh. I attacked that area with a vengeance, my beak tearing, drawing some of my brother’s blood. I hated hurting him. What choice did I have?
Olyvre managed to grab my wing, just as I nearly had the crystal in my beak. He yanked hard and I squawked, the pain forcing me to let go. He flung me away and I flapped my wings, trying to stay in the air, but I wasn’t an expert at flying or having wings. I smacked against the headboard of his bed and fell to the floor, body throbbing and aching. I struggled, forcing myself to move. I hopped to my tiny feet and flexed my wings. I could still fly despite the pain that answered the movements. Nothing was broken.
Olyvre ran to the door. No! I couldn’t let him escape. Taking another deep breath, I leapt off the floor and flapped hard, diving at my brother’s leg. He opened the door, and the force and surprise of my attack made him fall. He landed hard with a grunt. I finally fixed my beak on the crystal and yanked it out of his trousers. Olyvre whipped his head around. His brown eyes went wide and round when he saw me standing on his leg, a crystal with his hair attached to it in my beak. Confusion muddied his expression. His friendly, open face was flushed in exertion, while a few scrapes from my talons bled. I made a cooing sound, one I once heard Lansa make when comforting his chicks.
Before Olyvre could speak, I launched myself into the air and sped back through his room and out the window. My magick snapped back to me, giving me a slight head rush. I couldn’t touch the crystal for longer than I needed to. I was already contaminating it. I sped back to the inn, my bruised and battered body protesting against every movement. The wind was my friend and I rode on the strong currents, and it brought me right into the window of our room. I dropped the crystal on the bed as Aishe ran toward me. I landed on the bed and couldn’t stay balanced. I toppled over and gasped for air, my tiny body shuddering. I tasted my brother’s blood. I would spit it out, if fasions could spit. The taste nauseated me. I’d made my brother bleed.
“Morgorth!” Aishe carefully picked me up, held me. I welcomed his strong arms. I nuzzled closer and closed my eyes.
We stayed like that until the hour passed. Then I contorted painfully back to my original form. I muffled my scream in the pillows. My arm was tender from Olyvre’s yank, and a few other bruises throbbed. Otherwise, I was fine. Physically, at least. Afterward, I lay on my stomach on the bed, trying to get my breath back. Covered in sweat, I knew I needed to bathe before the inquiry.
Aishe ran his hand over my back. “Morgorth?”
“The cloth.” I yanked another cloth out of my pouch and handed it over, keeping my face in the pillow. It was a moment before I felt him fingering my pouch, slipping the wrapped crystal inside.
I had to take another moment before I could command my limbs to move. My stomach was in greasy knots when I finally rolled over and regarded him.
“There’s blood around your mouth,” he said softly.
Wincing, I wiped it with my sleeve.
“You attacked your brother.”
“I didn’t enjoy it,” I snapped.
His eyebrows bunched over his eyes. “I didn’t say you did.”
I forced my anger down again. It was getting harder to do. “He’ll be fine. A few cuts, a few bruises. He might have a damn phobia about birds, now, but he’s all right.”
“After all this you need to tell him that was you.”
“Maybe.”
“Morgorth.”
I shook my head and got off the bed. I only had the basin of water to bathe. I did it quickly while Aishe pulled out fresh clothing for me. It wasn’t long before we were both ready for the Tower. Before we left, I grabbed Aishe’s hand and kissed the back of it. He shook his head with a sigh, and I saw a ghost of a smile. I laced our fingers as we departed the inn, and walked to the Tower. I needed time to settle, and teleporting would get us there too soon.
“My love,” he said a long moment later. “Was Dyrc right? Can the council ask anything they want about you? About your past?”
“If it’s relevant,” I said.
He stopped walking, yanking me to a stop. His expression turned fierce. “I will not give them cause to harm you.”
“You won’t.” I cupped his face. “Baby, you won’t. Forget what Dyrc said. Listen to me. After yesterday, after observing the elders and watching them as they listened to Elorn and my testimonies, I sensed they weren’t out to get me. Not this time. This time it’s about Elorn. He’s a council member and one of the Hand. He dishonored his title and the council by his actions. Even if I had instigated things, he should have pulled the other elders in. He should have informed Master Ulezander to my movements. I’m still under his tutelage. Elorn’s shown he’s no longer capable of being part of the ruling body of mages. His lack of sound judgment and rash actions were inexcusable, especially for one of his age. I’m not the target. He is. That’s why he’s trying so hard to make me the center of attention. The elders will only ask about the duel. They might want more detail about how I claimed Ellegrech or how I killed my father. I doubt Master Ulezander will allow it to g
o too far. Stay calm. We will get through this.”
Aishe’s beautiful green eyes stared into mine as I spoke. His faith in me was humbling, his trust frightening and wonderful. He nodded, the tension in his body loosening, his shoulders lowering from their hunched position. I memorized his expression, that open look in his eyes. I doubted I would see it again for some time after I did what I had to do.
We soon arrived at the White Tower. Everyone gathered inside. We took our places like before, Aishe and I on one side of the open circle, Elorn and Olyvre at the other. The elders took their seats. I felt my brother’s intense gaze, and I avoided looking in his direction. I saw Dyrc out of the corner of my eyes, and I gripped my hands tighter where they met behind my back. I would make him pay some day. I promised it to myself.
Elder Kyller stood. The room went silent.
“I welcome you back to the second day of this inquiry. Without further ado, we will hear from Elder Elorn’s witness, Olyvre Freydsson. Olyvre, please step forward.”
Olyvre swallowed visibly before stepping forward. It warmed my heart even as it made me feel guilty when he sought my eyes for a moment. I saw his fear. This time I met his gaze and nodded to him with a forced smile. He turned back as Master Ulezander stepped from behind the table and stood in front of him.
“This will not hurt nor will it have any lingering effects. We shall ask specific questions about Elder Elorn’s actions during your confrontations with him and the duel you witnessed. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?”
Olyvre nodded. He looked overwhelmed, his face pale and his hands fidgeting, completely out of his league, and yet so brave in the face of it.
Master Ulezander gently placed his hand on Olyvre’s forehead. His mouth didn’t move but his eyes and skin glowed. The thrum of magick washed over all of us. Then he stepped back, the glow fading. I noticed the vacantness of my brother’s eyes, and his vulnerability made me want to protect him. Aishe touched my arm briefly, lightly. I exhaled sharply through my nose. It would be fine. It would all be fine.
