“No, he hasn’t.” The chilly edge to Reg’s tone made Frolic shiver, and he moved closer to his friends, leaning against Reg’s shoulder and stretching his feet into Querry’s lap.
As Reg explained what he’d witnessed regarding Starling, Tom, and the strange talisman, Querry unbuckled Frolic’s boots, slipped his stockings off, and kneaded the soles of Frolic’s feet with his thumbs. As nice as it felt, Querry’s caresses couldn’t banish the horror spreading through Frolic at Reg’s account. He bolted up from reclining against Reg.
“We have to save Tom! We must work harder than ever to set him free! No matter what.”
Reg rubbed his back. “Ah, beauty. I knew you’d feel that way. That’s why I was afraid to say anything. I worried you’d put yourself in danger on his behalf.”
“I am tied to him now,” Frolic said softly.
“What?” Reg asked, the color draining from his face.
“I made a deal with him. To save the slaves on that plantation.”
Reg dropped his head into his hands. “God, no. What did you promise him?”
“Something I carry inside but can’t hold in my hands. Don’t be angry, Reggie. I had to do it. All those people would have died otherwise. I couldn’t bear to see them suffering.”
Reg hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth. “At least there are no more secrets between us. Are there?”
“No,” Querry said. “I’m sorry there ever were. I’m sorry they drove us apart, even a little. Never again. Let’s promise. We must trust each other, not the Belvaisian or the fey. Will you swear it?”
“Or the baron,” Reg added.
“Right.” Querry nodded. “From now on, we tell each other everything, no matter what.”
Frolic nodded enthusiastically.
“None of us has ever had any family,” Reg said thoughtfully, almost to himself. “Until now.”
All of them joined hands as an unspoken oath passed between them. As Frolic looked into his partners’ eyes and saw his love and devotion reflected back, much of his doubt and isolation faded, at least for the moment. He might be the last of his kind, but he knew he had a place where he belonged: here, with these men who loved him and would protect him. Frolic grinned, and he felt so happy he would have certainly cried if he’d been able. However, he still felt perplexed about giving voice to his thoughts.
“So,” Frolic said, “I should say whatever is on my mind? Because sometimes you tell me not to. How will I know the difference?”
“Beauty, when it’s just us alone, feel free to say anything you like,” Querry told him, and Reg nodded in agreement.
“Then there’s one other thing you should know.” Frolic explained about Whisper, tilting his head to the small creature sleeping on top of his book. “He chose me. I feel like he’s looking out for me, for us. Please don’t be afraid of him.”
“I think I see him,” Querry said, squinting into the darkened corner and smirking. “Just a shadowy outline, but he’s adorable. A bit like a kitten, isn’t he?”
“If he wants to keep you safe, I have no issue with him,” Reg said. “But I wish I could see him too.”
“He’s winking at you,” Frolic said, leaning in and running the tip of his nose up Reggie’s cheek. The way Reggie shuddered made Frolic respond in kind, and before long, they pressed their lips together as Querry moved his hands up their backs and into their hair. Then Querry put out the light, and the three of them consummated the vows they’d made to one another in the most wonderful ways.
Chapter 23
IN SPITE of everything, Reg couldn’t stop smiling as they trudged through the dark, malleable forest. His most private places felt tender and hot, a result of his passionate union with Querry and Frolic the night before. Their promises to be honest with each other and protect one another had enflamed Reg’s desire for them as nothing had in quite some time. Now, they walked together, with Reg between Querry and Frolic, and every time Reg looked over and found one of them watching him, he flushed and grinned. He felt like a thirteen-year-old boy, but he liked it.
Reg’s warm mood almost allowed him to ignore his surroundings, but not quite. Once again, they traveled almost in darkness, as the thick jungle canopy blotted out the sun. The spongy ground smelled of rust and decay, almost of blood. Unnaturally thick trees, covered in bizarre bumps and whorls, rose higher into the sky than any Anglican cathedral tower. Shadows moved and flitted in Reg’s peripheral vision, though there was no light to cast them. Despite the stifling heat and humidity, Reg shivered.
Starling, with his grotesque compass, led their procession slowly. Reg’s stomach lurched each time he caught a glimpse of the bluish shard. The trails between the trees shifted and changed, both behind them and ahead, as if the forest toyed with them and made them lost on purpose. Still, the baron made progress, though a few times he led them to the edge of a ravine, an impassable mass of brush, or a sinkhole full of the treacherous mud the Panther warriors had insisted they avoid.
Somehow they gained ground, though Reg estimated they cleared only about ten miles a day over the following week. Though he sensed danger all around them, no actual threat appeared. Reg waited out the daylight hours, eager for camp. Their frank discussion had reignited Querry, Frolic, and his own passion for each other, and they made good use of their evenings.
On their eighth day after parting from the Panther People, they entered a patch of woods even more bizarre than the rest. The trees twisted into impossible formations, and interwoven branches blocked their way. Jack Owens, Querry, and the mercenaries cut them down with the rotating blades Querry had designed, but they grew back, trapping the small group within a tiny clearing. The dark spirits Reg had seen at the edges of his vision appeared, surrounding them. They closed in, nothing more than desiccated corpses, skeletons wrapped in pitch-black skin. In a sick negative reflection of the Panther People, the things wore white lines around their eyes and across their cheeks. Reg pulled his pistol and hit one of the abominations square in the chest, but the bullet moved through it as if through a shadow. Frolic, with his enchanted blade, managed to overcome one of the monstrosities, causing it to dissolve into the darkness when he sliced its neck. Frolic turned to face the next creature, but there were too many. He’d never be able to vanquish them alone.
Tom Teezle held his hands out and spread his long fingers, speaking a few commanding words that made the spirits retreat from him. Baron Starling conjured a golden, glowing shield around his hand, but the creatures continued to advance. Only Tom and Frolic managed to give them pause, and against the dozens spilling out of the forest shadow, they wouldn’t be enough to save the others.
With a great war-cry, Cornelia emerged from the back of the group, her gas-powered torch in hand, the heavy tank shoved down the back of her leather vest. She waved the bluish flame in wide arcs, driving the creatures back. The others gathered behind her as she cut a swath through the dark beings. Even after they finally dispersed, she led the way with her torch glowing brightly in front of her. Baron Starling stood at her side, pointing them in the proper direction.
They traveled in such a manner all through the night, and through the next day, afraid to pause for a second. The horrid spirits followed them, waiting just beyond the firelight, biding their time. Eventually, though, the fuel in Corny’s tank ran out, and the flame sputtered and died.
“Well, bugger,” she said, smacking the nozzle of her torch with the heel of her hand. “I’m all out.”
“We need fire,” Jack Owens said. “Use the lamp oil.” He ripped his shirt from his body and shredded it into strips. Then he found a thick branch on the ground, and wrapped the remnants around it. Attila poured some fuel over his torch and set it alight. He and his brother constructed similar torches, giving one to Querry and one to Cornelia. The rest of them stayed, along with the carts, within the ring of light, moving quickly toward an unknown destination. They raced with time, knowing the last of the oil would soon run out.
/> Reg huffed with exhaustion, his legs aching, as they approached the first patch of sunlight they’d seen in over a week. The dark spirits still surrounded them, just waiting for a gap in their defenses. Those on the outside waved their torches to drive them back, but one by one, the fires burned out, the fuel exhausted. Though he knew it might not do much good, Reg drew his gun and stood shoulder to shoulder with Frolic.
“We’ve got to hold them off,” Reg panted.
“We will.” Frolic’s magical blade cut golden crescents through the gloom.
As the torches reduced to embers, the party finally broke through the trees. Starling blasted gouts of flame behind him, making the creatures hiss and letting the others put a few hundred yards between themselves and the dank jungle. When he depleted his magic, though, dozens more creatures burst from beneath the trees. Their numbers seemed endless.
Tom elbowed his way to the front of the group and looked quickly from side to side. His eyes widened, and he motioned for the others to follow him down a steep embankment. The cart holding most of their food toppled over and rolled down the hill. Reg retrieved a few sacks of fruit and dried meat, slinging them over his shoulders as he sidestepped jutting roots and leapt over fallen branches. About a quarter mile ahead, a small stream, probably a tributary of the larger river, tumbled downhill between some large, moss-coated rocks.
“Most spirits can’t cross running water!” the fey yelled over his shoulder, avoiding the obstacles with much more grace than the rest of them.
“What about the carts?” Corny called.
Starling, at the rear of the group, managed a few more spurts of flame, buying them a little more distance from the abominations. “Take what you can carry! Leave the rest!”
When they reached the water, they obeyed the baron, salvaging as much equipment as they could. Then they scrabbled over the rounded stones and plunged into the water. Istvan and Attila waded in, holding crates of guns above their heads as the water reached their chests. Reg didn’t see Corny until he looked over his shoulder and found her hauling a wooden box as long as she was tall from the back of a cart. Though Jack Owens helped her, their load seemed very heavy. Reg could guess as to the contents: the magic-negating device Frolic opposed so vehemently.
“For the love of God, leave it!” he called, even as he spun around to assist them.
“No,” Corny said. “I won’t. Not under any circumstances.” With Reg and Jack’s help, they pulled the crate from the bed of the cart, and it landed heavily on the ground.
“You’ll never get it across the river. You’re going to die if you don’t leave it and run.” Reg tugged at the tinkerer’s sleeve as she heaved a huge spool of metal wire as thick as her wrist from the cart. It likely weighed as much or more than she did, but she looped the end through a brass handle on the crate, secured it, and hoisted the rest of the spool onto her shoulder. Then, slowly, she pulled her precious creation toward the water’s edge, with the spirits close on their heels. Jack Owens shouted as one of them swiped at the back of his leg, opening a quartet of deep gashes across his hamstring.
“We’ll never make it,” Reg pleaded. Querry and Frolic called to him from the other side of the stream, and he knew without a doubt they’d come back for him soon if he didn’t hurry. He couldn’t let that happen. “Corny, please.”
In response, she set her jaw in a hard, determined line and picked up speed, actually managing to jog while dragging the cumbersome cargo. Though her strength amazed Reg, the creatures had almost caught up with them. One of them grabbed for Reg’s hair, and he barely dodged it. His spectacles fell from his nose, and he crushed them with his boot as he stumbled to regain his balance. Holding his antique pistol by the barrel, he swung the handle wildly, though it did little good. Finally, they reached the rocks lining the bank. Corny knelt behind the crate and fought to push it over the top of the huge stone. Dozens of creatures closed in, surrounding them.
A desperate idea formed in Reg’s mind, and he turned to Jack Owens. “Give me your lighter, and help her get that bloody thing into the water.”
The older mercenary merely nodded once and did as Reg said. Reg fished inside his waistcoat and found his flask. He turned toward the twisted spirits and took a healthy pull as he flicked Owens’ brass lighter. Then he lifted the flame to his lips and spit. The expensive single-malt caught, and for a moment Reg saw nothing but a blurry ball of fire. He smelled scorched hair as it singed his fringe and eyebrows. The heat stung his face, but when it faded, he’d driven the creatures back almost a dozen feet. He lifted the flask to his mouth again.
As soon as Reg heard the loud splash he hoped meant they’d got the crate into the water, he threw his flask and the lighter at the creatures’ feet, scrabbled over the rocks, and dove into the stream. The water soothed his tender face as he sank below the tepid, oily surface. Reg kicked and pumped his arms, swimming underwater for several strokes before resurfacing.
Reg took a deep breath and pushed his wet, tangled hair out of his face. Safe now, he swam slowly to the center of the stream before stopping to look around. The water, at its deepest, reached almost to his chin. Without the aid of his spectacles, the creatures they’d just fled looked like black smears as they stood just beyond the rocks. On the opposite bank, everyone, with the exception of Corny and Jack Owens, who toiled to haul her cargo across the water, busily checked the supplies and equipment they’d managed to save.
When Reg came ashore, he set down the satchels of food, peeled off his leather vest and trousers, and hung them on a branch to dry. Then he removed his dripping shirt and tie. The jungle had taught him health and comfort trumped modesty, but he still couldn’t bring himself to strip off his pants. Querry and Frolic, similarly undressed, ran to embrace him. Reg clung to them, trembling, ready to cry. Funny, but he’d been lucid and alert as he’d faced the creatures, but now, safe in his lovers’ arms, he barely held himself together.
Frolic scowled when Corny and Jack Owens finally made it ashore with their massive spool of metal rope. They started pulling the crate toward the bank. “You shouldn’t have helped her, Reggie,” Frolic whispered into his hair.
“I had to, beauty. She’d have died to protect it.”
Frolic broke away from them and shot Corny a glare. He turned his back on them, wandered over to Reg’s garments, took one of Reg’s pistols from its holster, and sat on a flat stone to start taking it apart. A little farther down the beach, Jean-Andre, Istvan, and Attila attended to their own weapons. Reg couldn’t help but let his gaze linger a few extra seconds on Jean-Andre’s practically naked body and shiny, red hair.
Jack Owens slapped one of his big hands over Reg’s shoulder. “That was good thinking back there, mate,” he said.
“Thanks,” Reg said, realizing that, from the seasoned mercenary, this was high praise indeed.
Looking back across the river, Reg wondered what would happen to them now. They couldn’t go back the way they’d come, and they’d been forced to leave many of their supplies, food included, behind with the carts. They’d have to push onward, but into what? If those angry spirits protected Starling’s precious wellspring at this distance, what would they encounter when they drew nearer?
“We’ll get through it,” Querry said and clasped Reg’s hand, as if he read Reg’s mind. “We just have to stay together and look out for each other, just like we promised.”
“I just pray it will be enough,” Reg said.
Chapter 24
REG’S CONCERNS about what they might face as they drew closer to the magical power source proved unfounded, because after three days’ travel, they could go no farther.
All ten of them stood side by side, awed into absolute silence. Querry could scarcely breathe as he looked into a ravine that seemed to extend to the very center of the world. The wide, lazy river at the bottom looked like nothing more than a thin, silver thread. The walls rising above it were smooth, sheer, gray stone. To Querry, they looked impossible to scale;
there were no protrusions or indentations to hold onto. The distance across the crevasse was probably less than a quarter of a mile, but the depth to the river and jungle below was probably four times more. The opposite bank lay a few dozen feet lower than the one all of them stood on. The early morning sunlight against the sheets of shimmering mist cast shifting streaks of light on the rock face.
“This is the band of nothing,” Querry stated. “Now it makes sense.”
“We can’t go any farther,” Reg said, his whisper a mélange of worry and wonder. “We can’t get across, and we can’t go back the way we came. What are we going to do now?”
“This will not stop me,” Starling said in a clear, commanding voice.
“Will you use magic?” Frolic asked, his eyes wide and reflecting the strong sun.
“No skill of mine can get us across,” the baron said.
“What about Tom?” Frolic asked.
“I could easily get myself anywhere I want. The rest of you are on your own.”
Querry didn’t know if he believed the fey. After all, his gentleman had transported both of them halfway around the world in less than a second. Maybe Tom just wasn’t as powerful. More likely, he wasn’t willing.
“This is what the Panther People warned us about,” Frolic said, a trace of hopelessness creeping into his tone. “This is the Edge of the World.”
Tom’s gaze snapped in Frolic’s direction. He looked ravenous all of a sudden. “What did you say?”
“Before the hunters left us, they told me nothing waited between their territory and certain death but the Edge of the World.”
“Do you hear that, my lord?” Tom asked with a sneer.
“It is no matter. This will not stand in my way, not when I’m this close. I’ll entertain suggestions. In the absence of any, we walk south until we encounter some way to cross.”
“Walk?” Jean-Andre swept his hand along the chasm, which extended to the limits of Querry’s vision in both directions.
A Grimoire for the Baron Page 30
