A Grimoire for the Baron

by Eon de Beaumont

  “What are you doing?” Querry demanded.

  “We’ve got to be nearing the next corner. We should forge ahead,” Starling responded. Querry understood his determination, the victorious thrill of accomplishing something everyone said you couldn’t. But if Starling didn’t stop for at least a while, he’d kill himself. The baron’s stubbornness was frustrating, and Querry wondered if he sometimes seemed as delusional and pigheaded.

  “No, Baron. You must rest,” Frolic said, putting a hand on Starling’s shoulder.

  “You don’t understand. I have to do this,” Starling argued. “I must.”

  “Starling, don’t be mad. You’re not a young man,” Reg said.

  “My age doesn’t matter. This is my life’s work.” Starling still tried to resist Frolic, but Querry knew his lover was much stronger.

  “I have an idea,” Frolic offered. “Are you able to conjure one of those magic lights for me?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?” Starling wasn’t resisting anymore, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  “Cast a light for me, and I’ll push on to the next corner. I don’t need it to see, but if we are as close as you think, you’ll be able to keep an eye on me by watching the light. I’m not tired, and I won’t get tired, so I’ll walk to the corner, and if I don’t see the rest of our party, I’ll come right back.”

  “That’s too dangerous, Frolic,” Reg warned. “We have no idea what’s out there.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I have my sword, and I’m much more resilient than a human. If there are faeries about, I’m the only one they won’t be able to detect.”

  “He has a point,” Querry agreed. Frolic could take care of himself, and he didn’t have far to go.

  “Querry! How can you say that?”

  “Reg,” Frolic interrupted. “It’s a good plan. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be able to see the light.”

  “I won’t try to talk you out of it,” Reg answered with a scowl. “But I still don’t like it.”

  “It is a good plan,” Starling agreed and conjured Frolic a light.

  Frolic hugged Querry and Reg, whispering, “Don’t worry. Have faith,” in Reg’s ear. He straightened, waved a good-bye, and walked off into the night. The glowing orb floating by his shoulder cast enough light that for a while they could see Frolic’s silhouette growing smaller as he ventured deeper into the strange, shifting shadows. Then it was just a small, blue ball bobbing in the darkness. As soon as Frolic’s form blurred and melded into the night, Querry regretted letting him go alone. It took everything he had not to run after the pale, azure pinprick in the distance.

  ONCE FROLIC got far enough away from the others that he could no longer hear their nervous whispers and hushed debates, Whisper, who’d fluttered off when they’d stopped to rest, drifted down from the branches and landed lightly on Frolic’s shoulder. Frolic reached up to pet him, glad for the company. Whisper wrapped his tail around Frolic’s wrist and made a soft, rattling sound.

  “I know you’re scared,” Frolic said softly. He didn’t know if the little creature could comprehend language, but he sensed Whisper at least understood the sentiment, and Frolic liked talking to Whisper when no one else was around, because he didn’t have to worry about how much to say and how much to keep to himself.

  “I’m scared too, Whisper. I’d never want Querry and Reggie to know how much. They’d only worry. But something is very wrong here. Every living thing is crying out for us to go. Querry was right about the magic here, but it doesn’t feel like a wellspring of energy. I don’t know what it is, but I feel it coming up from the ground, into my feet and into my body. It makes my bones feel cold and brittle. It doesn’t matter, though, because I have to find it. Querry and Reg can’t go home until I do. Do you understand, Whisper?”

  Whisper cooed softly, a regretful and sympathetic sound.

  “Maybe I should have gone with my father. I wonder if I made the right decision. He could have helped me, and I’m sure I could have asked him to get my friends to safety. I just can’t stand the thought of being without Querry and Reg.”

  Frolic had nearly approached the corner, and he still saw nothing but the shadows cast where thin strands of moonlight penetrated the thick foliage. He heard nothing but the rustle of the leaves, not even an insect or a nocturnal bird. Taking a few steps back from the unbroken monotony of the smooth wall, he looked up into the branches of the great tree towering hundreds of feet above him. Hundreds of small, glittering specks looked down at him, and Frolic knew they were eyes. He couldn’t imagine what sort of beings they belonged to, but they didn’t feel anything like Whisper. They didn’t feel malevolent; they were just watching, and Frolic got the sense they had been for a very long time. Their presence did nothing to help him find the temple’s entrance or the rest of his party.

  Frolic sighed and dropped his face into his palms. He felt like he’d girdled this fortress a dozen times, and maybe he had. It all looked the same, right down to the vines covering the stones and the dense brush along the perimeter. “Whisper, what am I going to do?”

  The little creature nestled his head into Frolic’s hair and made a low, mournful howl, echoing the despair Frolic felt. Then he flapped his wings and lifted off Frolic’s shoulder, touching down on a little knoll a few feet away. He sat on his haunches and canted his head. When Frolic hesitated, Whisper motioned him forward in a disturbingly human gesture. Reluctantly, feeling like he’d tumbled into a dream, Frolic approached him. The canopy above them shifted, casting Whisper in a shaft of silvery light. Frolic crouched, resting an elbow on his knee as he tried to discern what Whisper wanted to show him. After peeling back some of the thick groundcover, he noticed a smooth, gray stone inscribed with some oddly familiar, swirling markings.

  Frolic brushed away the remainder of the vines and moss so he could see the entire slab. If he let his eyes relax and unfocus, he found he understood the writing. The longer he stared at it, the less he noticed the jungle. He felt like he existed alone in a dark void with nothing but the shard of rock. Before he realized he was speaking, Frolic mumbled, “The way inside lies above, between heaven and earth, the struggle to the key will yield the fruit of knowledge. Knowledge must be absorbed, and the door will open.”

  For an immeasurable amount of time, Frolic sat staring at the stone with Whisper curled in his lap. Then, from somewhere far away, he heard someone calling his name. Gradually, the shapes of the trees and leaves around him grew crisp and solid again. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw the rest of his group rounding the corner of the temple, Corny and Jack brandishing odd, glowing sticks and leading the others. Corny called out to him, relief plain in her tone. Before they reached him, Frolic dug his nails beneath the piece of rock and dislodged it from the earth. A human surely would have broken his nails, and maybe his fingers freeing it, but Frolic easily dug it loose. It was just the size of the little book of poetry Reg had carried back in Halcyon, and Frolic slid it into his waistcoat pocket.

  Corny rushed forth and lifted Frolic to his feet, burying her face in his neck. “Oh, thank heavens you’re all right. I was so worried I’d never see you again.”

  Frolic pulled away from her and kissed her brow. “Everything is fine now, Corny. The others are just a bit farther back. I know what to do now. It’ll all soon be over.”

  “Will it?” she asked, still encircling his waist. “As much as I want to see the world, this place is too strange. I would be happy to get away from here.”

  “You will,” Frolic said. “I know just what to do.”

  “How?” she asked with a hint of suspicion.

  Instead of answering, Frolic pulled away from her and turned to head back to Querry and Reg. She continued to assail him with questions, but he responded with his own questions, wondering how she’d fashioned the glow-sticks. She explained about the phosphorescent mold they had found on their journey around the temple. He stretched his arm out for Whisper to perch upon and hurried ba
ck to his lovers, eager to bring their ordeal to an end now that he knew how.

  Chapter 27

  IT TOOK only about a half an hour for Frolic to reach the rest of his group. He found Querry and Reg standing on the path hand in hand, waiting for him with worried expressions. To Frolic’s surprise, Reg kissed him on the mouth, and Querry practically collapsed against him as they embraced. A few feet away, Jean-Andre slept on the ground with his hat over his face, while Starling huddled against the stone wall with his knees tucked almost to his chest, deep in slumber. Frolic hated to disturb his rest, but he knew the baron would want to hear what he had to say, so he cleared his throat and waited for Starling to drag himself from unconsciousness.

  Starling sat up stiffly and rubbed his eyes with his fists. When he noticed Frolic had returned, he said, in a scratchy voice, “What have you found?”

  “A great many things,” Frolic responded. “The rest of our people, and our way inside the temple.”

  That roused the baron to full alertness, and he got to his feet. “You can get in?”

  “I think so.”

  “How?” Querry asked.

  “I need to find something in the tree,” Frolic said, pointing upward. “Some source of knowledge we can absorb. I’ll need my wings.” He looked longingly at the crate containing them, eager to fly again.

  “How do you know this?” Starling asked, alert and authoritative already.

  Frolic wasn’t intimidated by the baron’s tone. “I found this,” he said, pulling the stone from his pocket. “It says what we need is halfway up the tree, the tree of knowledge.”

  “How can you read this?” Starling barked. “You’re making it up.”

  “He’s not.” Tom Teezle stepped up beside the baron. He took the slab of rock from Frolic and studied it for a few seconds. “This is a very ancient form of our language. Even to me, the meaning is obscure. But I can understand the underlying sentiment. The fruit of the tree is the way to the temple.”

  “I can get that fruit,” Frolic said. “Can’t we get this over with? The people I love are unhappy here.”

  The Baron Starling stared down at his folded hands. “Can this really be the way?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Frolic said. Without waiting for the baron’s response, he went to the crate, opened it, and took out his wings. Then he slipped them on as easily and comfortably as a worn glove. He adjusted them and flapped them. They already felt natural, a part of him. He wondered how he’d ever lived without them.

  “I’m under contract to you,” Frolic said, trying to bargain in the way of the humans and the fey. “Will you have me retrieve the key to opening this temple? If not, you must release us, because we can go no further. Do you want me to go?”

  Starling looked at Tom, who nodded.

  “Very well,” the baron said. Querry and Reg hurried to Frolic’s side, nervous expressions on their faces

  “Wait,” Reg pleaded. “What if there are traps or the magic effects your wings? Querry, you said it might not be safe.”

  “There’s no way to be sure,” Querry responded to Reg’s concerns. “Reg is right, beauty. This could go horribly wrong.”

  Frolic just smiled and clasped their hands. “I can do this. You must trust me. It’ll all be over soon,” he told them, “and then we can go home. Or find another one. Please don’t argue. Just give me a kiss for luck.”

  Neither of them hesitated to press their lips to the corners of Frolic’s mouth despite their reservations. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the closeness, forgetting about everything else until they pulled away. Querry stroked his face and offered him an encouraging smile.

  “Please be careful,” Reg said, pressing his forehead against Frolic’s. “I love you very much.”

  As he flapped his wings and ascended, Frolic felt an unfamiliar twinge, a sinking sensation in his belly. He hadn’t been completely honest with Querry and Reg. He’d told them he would only be plucking a piece of fruit, but he’d neglected to mention the hundreds of creatures sitting in the branches. He didn’t want to tell them he’d be in danger and leave them anxious, but deceiving them made him feel just awful.

  Whisper stayed close to Frolic as he glided in circles around the tree, moving higher and closer with each loop. He stayed far enough away not to rustle the long, thin, silvery leaves of the drooping branches. Eventually he reached a proximity from which he could see the creatures crouched on the branches. They were clearly fey, but a sort he’d never seen before. Only about the height of a young child, they were extremely thin with twig-like limbs and thick, gray skin with a slight sheen similar to the bark of the tree. Some of them held sticks sharpened into spears or tridents, but all of them had dagger-like claws. Instead of hair, leaves and branches sprouted from their heads and even grew from the points of their exceptionally long ears. Unlike most fey, they possessed little beauty in their long noses, pointed chins, and the beady, shining eyes that darted anywhere Frolic accidentally disturbed a leaf.

  Frolic stayed back as he searched for the fruit. He circled around and around, but he didn’t see anything but the thick leaves and their guardians. Many of the creatures, growing suspicious, got to their feet and hoisted their weapons. A few times, Frolic felt sure they’d seen him or heard the whir of his wings as he soared past. Whisper clearly didn’t like the tree faeries, and he stayed well away from them, off to Frolic’s right.

  Frolic angled his wings down and shot up into the sky, flying all the way to the very pinnacle of the great tree. As he hovered above it, his friends looked like tiny specks moving across the forest floor. The other trees around him looked like dollhouse miniatures, and even the temple walls seemed more like an average building, the ruins of some human citadel back in Anglica. Frolic still didn’t see anything resembling fruit. Looking down, he saw nothing but a wavering sea of gray and green, parting now and then to show him the glittering eyes of the creatures searching the sky for whatever disturbed their sacred duty.

  Frolic finally saw a faint glint of moonlight off something shiny and yellowish about halfway down the tree, close to the trunk. His throat swelled, making it hard for him to swallow, as he realized he’d have to enter the branches and move among the creatures to retrieve it. Tom’s assurances the fey couldn’t see him did little to assuage his nerves, but he knew he had no choice. He drew his wings close to his body and dropped half the height of the tree.

  At the end of a branch the size of a small bridge, Frolic saw the melon-like fruit dangling. He’d have to pass twenty or more of the faerie sentinels in order to pick it. Steeling his resolve, swearing a silent oath not to fail his friends, he lit down on the end of the branch, barely jiggling it. Though terrified, Whisper landed on his shoulder and clutched his hair. A few of the creatures turned toward them, and Frolic froze as they sniffed the air. He waited many minutes for them to lose interest before he took his first tentative step toward the heart of the great tree. He folded his wings at his back so they wouldn’t brush the hanging leaves.

  Frolic made it a few feet before he encountered the first of the wardens. It sat on its haunches, its eyes darting back and forth. Frolic held his breath as he stepped carefully around it, passing so close the satchel containing his book grazed the leaves growing from its head. The creature turned its head in Frolic’s direction, but it couldn’t see him. On his tiptoes, Frolic made his way past half a dozen more of the small, nasty-looking fey.

  The fruit hung only perhaps ten feet away. It was the size of Frolic’s head, but oval and elongated, with shiny, golden skin dotted with orange and scarlet. Beneath it sat eight of the creatures, shoulder to shoulder, spears pointed out. Many more waited in the branches above. Frolic inched a little closer, until the creatures’ pointed noses were mere inches from his knees. Whisper made a soft, frightened sound, and all the creatures turned toward them, staring hard at where Frolic stood, afraid to even breathe. He hesitated, hoping the things might lose interest, but they didn’t. Knowing he had to tak
e his chance, he stretched his waist and reached out until he had the fruit in both hands. He tugged, expecting it to come free from the branch, but it stayed connected. His efforts rustled the leaves and drew more of the protectors from nearby branches. They opened their mouths, revealing rows of sharp, yellowed teeth, hissed, and either swiped their claws or thrust their spears where they’d seen movement in the leaves.

  Frolic pulled harder on the fruit, but it wouldn’t budge. By now, the creatures had discerned his location and stabbed at him with their weapons. He struggled to swallow his cries as they pierced his skin, causing much more pain than their size would indicate. Even as they dropped from above, landing on Frolic’s shoulders, tearing at his hair and scratching his skin, he kept a firm grip on the fruit and wrenched at it with all his considerable strength. Whisper squealed as one of the fey got hold of his tail. Frolic kicked at the creatures swarming the branch, sending some into the leaves below. More and more of them appeared, clawing at Frolic’s trousers, climbing up the fabric, and trying to pull him down. As small as they were, Frolic knew if they piled on top of him in their great numbers, he wouldn’t escape.

  Something occurred to Frolic, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. As he kicked wildly to free his legs, he reached into his pocket for the birthday gift the gentleman, his father, had given him: the golden shears. They easily severed the stem, and the fruit dropped into Frolic’s hand. He hurried to tuck it between his elbow and his body. Then he used the shears to stab at a creature attacking Whisper and lifted Whisper to his shoulder. Whisper cowered in a ball as Frolic swiped his shears in front of him as he ran for the end of the branch. Even when he dove into the air, some of the creatures held tight to his clothing. Frolic pitched from side to side, twirled in the air, and shook his limbs until he dislodged them. Then he glided down to the base of the temple and his friends.