Ferryl Shayde - Book 3 - A Very Different Game

by Vance Huxley

  She looked at the group, her eyes lingering for a moment on Ferryl and Abel, then produced a professional smile of welcome. “Welcome to Woods and Green. If you would bring the letter with you?” She held open the door, then led the six of them down a short corridor and through an intricately carved door. Abel paused in the doorway for Zephyr to have a good look round, but the woman continued to a desk before turning and smiling again. “This room is not a trap. I am sure one of you can read the glyphs? They are either defensive or to ensure privacy. Could I see the letter, please?”

  “The glyphs do not look threatening.” Zephyr seemed certain.

  Ferryl went to take Abel’s hand then stopped, probably wanting to tell him the same thing but she wasn’t his pretend girlfriend this time. Instead she returned his small nod. Abel walked in, holding out the letter. “As you said, nothing threatening.”

  “That wouldn’t be good for business. I am Terese Green, and have no objection to being called Terese.” Terese took the letter as the group introduced themselves by their own first names, reading the short message before looking up. “You have a box and coin?” When Abel took out the chest she narrowed her eyes. “Please put that on my desk, near the Salamander.”

  Abel placed it near a brassy-looking frilly lizard with webbed feet. The ornament’s eyes blazed bright red. “Please don’t touch the box.”

  “Highly unlikely. It is a long time since I saw that strong a reaction.” Terese didn’t look at all relaxed now, watching the box very warily. “I will pass you on to a senior partner, but only one person can make the claim.” She looked very pointedly at Abel. “Presumably you.”

  “Two would be better.” Ferryl moved up alongside Abel. “I should be present. I have a business matter that should be discussed at the same time.” Kelis, Rob and Jenny moved up as well, but Shannon hesitated, obviously confused.

  Terese considered that for a while, not convinced, but an old-fashioned phone rang. She answered, then put the phone down before answering Ferryl. “Two people, Abel and yourself. You are to keep your hands in plain sight, and must not summon any glyphs. Any attempt to do so will be met with lethal force.”

  “If nobody attacks Abel, there will be no need.” Ferryl turned to Abel. “If that’s all right with you, Abel?”

  “Happy to have you along, Fay.” Abel picked the box up, retrieved his letter, and put them both in his pack. “Will the rest wait here?”

  “I will send for refreshments, in case you are here for a while. If you will go though there? The glyph above the door is defensive. It will only react to an active offensive hex or glyph.” With that, Terese started asking the others to take a seat. Abel glanced at Ferryl but she just shrugged, so he opened the indicated door. The large room beyond looked empty when they walked in, apart from a small table in the centre and a large, gnarled bonsai tree on a rock over a pool that took up nearly a third of the space. Sunlight from a skylight sparkled on the small waterfall, which with a little birdsong created a soothing background noise. Neither calmed Abel, especially when he remembered it was raining and overcast outside, not sunny.

  “There are more of those glyphs in the walls, and in the doors.” Like those in Terese’s office, the doors were carved with riotous writhing branches and leaves.

  Ferryl took Abel’s hand but let go after warning him. “There are more of those glyphs in the walls, and in the doors.”

  Abel chuckled, he had to, then looked around startled at a quiet, amused voice. “An unusual reaction. Please ask your passenger to remain inside its haven, young man.” An unfelt breeze rustled the leaves on the tree. “You are in absolutely no danger while you hold the coin. The same might not be true for your companion.” The tree trunk blurred slightly, then a small dryad stood in front of it. “I had hoped that the news of your return was just a rumour. Why do you accompany this human, Spiritus qui Furabatur?”

  Abel looked at the dryad, then Ferryl, completely baffled, but Ferryl answered. “That is a very old name. I have agreed to help and protect this human for ninety years, using the name Ferryl Shayde. As part of that agreement I have abandoned my old ways. You and yours are safe if you do not threaten him. There is no dispute betwixt myself and the Wild Wood, I swear it on all my names.”

  The dryad and tree both drooped a little, just for a moment. “The wind has held no word of the Wild Wood for much too long. We fear the church might be to blame.” The little not-breeze fluttered the leaves on the bonsai again. “Though we thought you were gone, so there is hope.”

  “The church hunted both of us. For now, they’ve lost track of me. I hope they will not learn of this identity?” Abel heard the faint threat under Ferryl’s words, not blatant, but clear enough.

  “The storm may blow down a tree, or a tree provide shelter from the storm, but the wind and the forest are not enemies.” That raised a list of questions for Abel, but Ferryl seemed to be reassured. “Welcome, Ferryl Shayde. Strange days, the strangest since the Accord or possibly the coming of the Normans.” The dryad noticed Abel staring. “This tree grew here, on this rock, before the Romans came to these shores. When we say we are an old established firm, it means I dealt with contracts between druids and their demi-gods. You may refer to me as Woods. It is my little joke and the reason for the carvings on the doors.” The dryad stopped for a moment. “I must be nervous, I’m gossiping. You have a box, a letter, a coin and a key. From that I must assume Celtchar is dead.”

  “Celtchar?” Abel looked at Ferryl, baffled again.

  “The sorcerer. I refuse to use their pathetic play names. The real Celtchar was an ancient Celtic druid.” Abel didn’t need more explanation. Ferryl only used that tone when speaking of one person, the one who put her in the pit.

  He took out the chest and presented the letter. “Where do you want these?”

  The dryad gestured with a clump of twigs. “On the table will be near enough. Do you lay claim to Celtchar’s legacy?”

  Abel looked at the box and hesitated, but that was why he’d come. When he glanced at Ferryl she nodded. “Yes.” He looked round but monsters didn’t burst out of the walls and no pits opened under his feet. “Is that it?”

  “Not quite. Pick up the coin in your bare hand, without using magic, and hold it in plain sight.” Abel did. “Repeat after me. I claim it.”

  “I claim it.”

  “By blood and power, it is mine.”

  “By blood and power, it is mine.”

  “I command you, obey.”

  “I command you, obey.”

  The dryad shuddered, the tree branches shook, and the coin glowed. Abel felt a tingle, then he only held an ordinary gold sovereign. “Please take great care of that. You hold my life. I would rather not tell you, but then you might spend it on wine or lose it on a wager.”

  “You mean the command bit? Bloody…er, Blobberwhats, no! I don’t do that!” Abel stared at the coin, horrified, then held it out. “Here, take it.”

  “It would kill me, and anyone else except another male of your bloodline. Watch out for sons, siblings, fathers and grandfathers.” The dryad cast a small glyph towards the door and raised its voice. “Two comfortable chairs please, Terese, and refreshments. As usual, my clients have not been properly informed. I will need the Celtchar files.” The dryad moved down the rock until its roots were in the water. “I may as well make myself comfortable. When I send the next glyph, please state your beverage of choice, clearly. Alcohol might be a bad idea. You will need clear wits.”

  With that in mind Abel asked for coffee though Ferryl wanted cola. She considered cola to be one of the greatest inventions in two hundred years. Shortly afterwards a young man brought in the chairs, then the drinks, and a few minutes later a large black box which he opened to reveal bundles of papers and some scrolls. The coffee came in a large pot, with a jug of cream and a bowl of sugar. Abel wondered just how long this might take.

  The dryad started with the coin. A hundred and sixty years ago Celtchar had come
to this office. Nobody had thought his appointment would cause any trouble, because Woods and Green already dealt with his legal affairs. This time Celtchar wore a suit of ancient armour. Every defensive glyph that came near him activated, and none of them even scratched the metal. He had walked straight to this room, breaking the doors without any apparent effort, and watched as the defences flared and died.

  The sorcerer made Woods an offer, an alternative to being a bound servant, though it had a similar effect. The coin held a sliver of heartwood from the tree, and another from Woods, both linked magically to their origins. Celtchar had demanded that Woods and Green held his property safe from any attempt to usurp his claim, and managed it if he was busy elsewhere, without charge. Abel had just proved his right to the property, the coin, and the link to Woods’s life. Only a magically aware male with a blood link to Celtchar could have survived saying those words while holding the coin.

  While Abel tried to absorb that, Woods moved on. The laws of England would not allow Abel to legally inherit property until he was eighteen. Abel couldn’t see how he could inherit it at all, legally, but Woods waved that away. All over the world there were a second set of laws, hidden provisions for sorcerers and magic, because they were there before any government or ruler. Sorcerers could take a new identity, disappear for centuries, or leave wills with provisions that couldn’t be acted on for lifetimes, but their properties remained safe. The few attempts to overturn that had been brief, bloody, and fatal for those proposing the change.

  The new identity part definitely caught Abel’s attention. He knew someone wanting a change of identity, but had a nasty feeling it would be expensive. The plush furnishings didn’t come from low fees. He listened to the list of property in some sort of shock. It probably didn’t make him filthy rich, but there were parcels of land in several locations around the UK and Ireland. The two in Scandinavia were called forests, which had to mean enormous. Abel reassessed the filthy rich bit when Woods explained they all included accommodation, but sometimes only a hut or a cave.

  That meant some were better than huts. “Could I live in any of them?”

  “Yes, in all of them though none are modern. They have not been used for over a hundred years.”

  “Ruins then.” Abel cancelled plans to get his mum to move or give Kelis a new home.

  “No. Magically sealed, so they have remained exactly as Celtchar left them. Some are hidden from normal sight, some are in places that deter the curious. They will open for you once you unlock Castle House.” Woods pointed twigs at the file box full of papers. “Their locations are in there.”

  “Back up a bit please. I already unlocked Castle House.” Abel put his hand in his pocket and produced the key. He’d brought it just in case the solicitor needed proof.

  “No, you gained access to the box and the sovereign. Now you have claimed the sovereign it will allow you to attempt the other doors. You can make multiple attempts and the house will simply ignore them unless you use the right method.” Woods paused, watching Abel’s face. “You have no idea? This is worse than expected. I always suspected that Celtchar tried to make it impossible for anyone to inherit. Too many related males died mysteriously. He had to make a will of course, that’s the law, magical law.” Branches rustled, sounding very like a sigh. “There are an unknown number of doors, each of which will test your prowess as a sorcerer. Each one will open part of the house. The last one will give you access to an item that unlocks everything, either marking you or attaching itself. In the interim you can visit your land, the actual acreage, and even access the trees there.”

  “Trees?” Abel perked up again. A few available trees elsewhere would be useful for other Taverners, or for him if he travelled.

  “Yes. There are substantial woodlands on every plot. They supply the barriers or preserve the houses but you can access their magic. There are a few dryads in each location, given trees in return for acting as watchdogs. Many strong sorcerers make similar arrangements, scattered plots of protected woodland, so they are always relatively near a large source of additional magic. If I can continue?” He extended twigs towards the papers so Abel nodded.

  Next came a list of parks in towns and cities. Like much of the woodland they were open to the public, but any attempt to drain magic from a tree would bring massive retaliation. When Abel asked, many sorcerers claimed parks in towns so they could collect extra magic without a trip to some remote estate. The public access stopped anyone non-magical from noticing large clumps of woodland that nobody could visit, but the traps stopped anyone magical taking advantage. Once again, the coin would allow Abel to draw magic, but nobody else.

  “Don’t sorcerers believe in sharing?”

  “No.” Even as Woods answered, Ferryl laughed.

  “I told you, Pendragon told you, and Creepio told you. The sorcerer code is hands off, it’s all mine. Even apprentices don’t get to share, just dribs and drabs as a reward or for special jobs.” She sighed heavily, looking at Woods. “Abel shares the trees in Castle House gardens with forty of his friends. None are bound or even tethered. He even refuses to bind houseflies.”

  Woods didn’t answer, just looked pointedly at Abel’s shoulder, then the small chest containing the coin. Abel looked at the chest as well and made a decision. “You dealt with the sorcerer’s affairs before he created the coin. Do you deal with magical legal matters for others, such as magical beings?”

  “We will represent any magical entity who will pay. Except leeches.” Abel could actually hear the humour as well as the creaking branches. “Considering what I am, you should be asking if I accept human clients.”

  With a smile Abel pointed at the big box of papers. “Can I afford to hire you to look after this lot until I can? Probably after that as well.”

  Woods shifted its eyes to Ferryl. She shook her head in mock despair. “I should have known. Answer him, Woods.”

  “I told you, I am not allowed to charge you. If I could there is more than enough income from harvesting timber here and in Scandinavia. The estate also sells permits for wild stalking and many large tracts of farmland are rented to nearby farmers. You have access to the rental income from now on but not the accumulated balance, not until you reach eighteen. Fifty years after Celtchar went missing I also took the liberty of renting out houses in large towns and major cities.” The dryad paused, glancing at Ferryl then back at Abel. Its eyes came back to the small gold-bound box.

  “So how do I break this coin?” As he spoke Ferryl took hold of Abel’s arm, then her hand dropped away.

  “I almost said that wasn’t wise, but that won’t stop you. He means it, Dryad Woods, this one really doesn’t like binding living creatures. There is no trick or trap.” Ferryl shook her head, then chuckled. “I wish I could tell Creepio, just to see his face. Sorry, the archbishop. I’ve actually talked to one and lived.” She chuckled again as the tree branches rustled briefly and the dryad stared at her.

  Dryad Woods recovered, looking pointedly at Abel’s shoulder. “While I would like to hear about the archbishop at some time, I must doubt your first claim.” His eyes locked with Abel’s. “You have bound a feral spirit, a strong one.”

  “She is not bound, nor feral. Will your defences target Zephyr if she flies free?

  “Not if it…. She? Not if she flies free, unbound, and does not attack.”

  “Zephyr, please fly free. You can come back if you wish.” Though Abel would miss her if she didn’t. “You can always come back if you need to, even without connecting the tether, but you know that.”

  “I do. Zephyr will fly, but not far. This is not a place for a free Ffod. Back soon.”

  Abel felt the tether part, then the emptiness in his tattoo as she flowed out. Zephyr flew slowly round Ferryl, then hovered halfway towards the dryad. Abel pointed at her. “No tether, no binding.”

  Woods still sounded wary. “In that case, if you really mean to free me, breaking the bond is simple. Hold the coin and let a drop of
your blood fall on it. Repeat ‘I release thee’ three times, then say ‘You are free.’” The dryad looked at the box again. “The coin will still give you access to everything else, but not to me or my tree.” Its eyes stayed on the box as Abel opened it, then followed the coin as it came out.

  “Ferryl? Get my knife out please and nick my finger.” Instead Ferryl took hold of Abel’s hand and touched his finger end with one fingernail. A bead of blood appeared. “Perfect.” Abel smeared it on the coin, where it promptly disappeared. “I hate blood magic.” He held the coin out. “I release thee. I release thee. I release thee. You are free.”

  Nothing happened for a few moments, then both the tree and dryad shook briefly. The dryad sagged a little, then straightened. “True intent. I could not tell you that part, that you had to mean it. I thank you.” The tree branches creaked a little. “As your solicitor I should tell you that was a mistake. You should have negotiated the contract first.”

  “Then you would have tried to break it. There is another contract to negotiate as well. Ferryl Shayde needs to be a schoolgirl arriving from Germany, living locally, and wishing to enroll in Stourton comprehensive.” Abel put out his hand to squeeze Ferryl’s as she made a small, protesting noise. “If there’s enough money in the bank.”

  “There is, though it will have a definite impact on your income this year. You will still have enough money, since if you are staying at school you shouldn’t spend too much without an obvious income. That is unusual for a sorcerer, and so is what you intend. My clients are usually several hundred years older than you, or who Spiritus… Ferryl Shayde wishes to be.” The following discussion took another cup of coffee, cheese and onion sandwiches for Abel and beef ones for Ferryl, and a visit to a sumptuous rest room. Despite all Abel’s misgivings, his and Ferryl’s youth seemed to be what would cause most trouble. By then Zephyr had flowed back into the tattoo and offered her magical hand to reconnect her tether.