The fins of the rudder and wings had detached, broken up, and fallen to the ground some distance from the rest of the heap.
It appeared as if the only salvageable piece was the metal framing of the dirigible blimp. But the metal burners that were supposed to hang at its base were nowhere to be found.
How will we ever repair this?
“Gather the wood and stack it into pieces by length,” Brendan ordered. “We’ll have to manage with what we have for now and keep a tally of what’s missing.”
The “aye, sirs” he was used to hearing were greatly reduced—a faint whisper of what they’d been before the crash.
Brendan’s crew got to work. Amber and a gaggle of men searched through the compartments for tools, supplies, and anything else that might be useful. Causeway and others stacked wood. The rest lined the cannons in a row and sorted through the what was left of the munitions.
But aside from Millie, the help proved to be less than helpful. Brendan noticed the twins did their own thing. Namely, playing with what was left of the right wing. They swung it into the breeze and watched how it caught the wind and lifted, often times swinging free of their grip and being carried several yards away.
He remembered the times he’d felt so carefree. How long ago was that now?
Eddis took stock of the dirigible. He spread a piece of parchment over a stack of wood, then took out a pencil and began sketching, something which made the back of Brendan’s mind tingle. So much so that he had to fight the urge to walk over and look at the old man’s drawing.
But Brendan forced himself to work. The crew stayed out until almost nightfall, then started back to the cottage, tired and hungry, cold, and wet. They’d barely made a dent, so to speak, in the recovery of the ship.
Trudging through the snow, Brendan turned to take one last look, a guilty goodbye to the airship he loved. But when he turned he saw something slip from inside the wreckage.
“The wraith,” he said, frantically pointing.
The crew began to brandish weapons, not that their weapons would do any good. And those without weapons waved hammers and shovels threateningly.
The wraith started for them, ghosting up and down through the air.
“Stop it!” Millie yelled. “You’ll scare her.”
“Scare her? Scare who?”
“Ursa!” She pushed down the shovels she could reach. “It’s Ursa. I know her.”
Millie waved to the wraith. “Ursa, it’s me, Millie.”
“Millie,” the wraith’s voice was a distant echo.
“She’s hurt! She’s almost gone.”
“What can we do about it?” Brendan shrugged. “It’s a wraith.”
“She needs energy.” She pulled out her wand and hurled a fireball. Ursa chased after and consumed it. Millie sent another.
“Energy?” Brendan asked.
“It’s how they survive…”
The party split up at the cottage. Brendan and crew went to the barn. Millie, Eddis, the twins and the wraith went inside the dwelling.
Seeing it, even if it wasn’t aggressive, sent shivers down Brendan’s spine. But those weren’t the only tingles inside of him.
Energy? he thought How wraiths survive?
Brendan went to sleep that night with a strange tingling, a tugging sensation that lingered deep at the back of his mind.
12
A Conjuring of Life
“Ah, so she did make it back,” Epik said. He grinned from ear to ear in his typical halfling fashion, relief on his face.
The halfling stood at the kitchen sink washing the dishes while the witches sat at the kitchen table, the same exact places they’d been when Millie had left with the crew.
She wondered if all old people were this lazy—or was it just them?
Millie flashed a shy smile, nodding. She still felt uneasy. And she would until Ursa was turned back to herself again.
Millie placed herself before Dora.
“Did you,” she started, hesitantly, “did you ever find that spell?”
The redheaded witch blinked as if coming out of a daze. “What was that, dear?”
“I asked, did you find the spell,” Millie repeated loudly. If hearing diminished with age, then why’d ears need to get as big as the pairs on these three crones? “You know, the one to set Ursa right,” she said.
Dora blinked again, green painted lids appearing and disappearing. The witch’s makeup was heavy, especially high above her cheek and right next to her lip. She was concealing something, but Millie preferred it to Schmilda who wore her blemishes like a soldier’s battle scars.
Dora’s eyes sparkled orange from the lamplight around the kitchen. “Oh, yes, I believe I did.” She turned to the other two witches. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Begonia struggled to get up from her seat. She was yet another witch Millie didn’t plan to model herself after. Of the three, she liked Dora best. Even if Dora did seem far away when they were in the same room.
“Ugh!” Schmilda grunted. She gave the stairs to their second floor parlor a wary eye. “I guess I’ll come, too…”
The three of them slowly made their way to the stairs. Ursa drifted through the ceiling while Millie ran ahead—she’d been trapped between two witches on the stairwell before. This time she knew better.
She made it to the top without needing to catch her breath6.
“Not you,” Millie heard Begonia say to Epik. “This is Coven business, not your typical wizard magic.”
“But, shouldn’t I learn to—”
“No, ya shouldn’t. Some things aren’t meant for your lot. And this is one of them.”
It wasn’t like Begonia to talk to Epik in such a manner.
“Ah right,” Epik replied, disappointed.
Ten minutes later all three witches were up the stairs. And after ten minutes of complaining about the steepness, the number, and the reasons for and against moving their witching supplies downstairs, they were finally ready to do something.
The parlor table was much like the kitchen table except instead of coffee mugs and dishes, a cauldron, a crystal ball, and oddly, a ball of hair cluttered its surface.
Those things were pushed aside. Then Dora carefully moved a spell book from a shelf to the center of the table. Millie didn’t catch the title, but it looked old and was handwritten. She could barely decipher one word.
Dora seemed to do okay. She flipped through the pages and found the one she was after.
“Is this really just for witches?” Millie asked. “Why can’t Epik help?”
“There’s something up here he’s not ready to see,” Begonia said. “Not yet. Something in this book.”
“So say you,” Schmilda cackled.
“So say we all.” Dora gave Schmilda a hard look. She put her finger to the beginning of the page. “Are we ready?”
“We are,” Begonia answered for the lot.
It started off okay, at least in a traditional witchy sense. There were chants and even the brewing of potion.
Finally, Millie thought, they’re brewing something other than coffee.
And she was right—well, half-right. It was tea.
They offered her some; she accepted with only a hint of disappointment. Millie wanted to fit in. She wanted to learn everything she could from these women. Part of it was because of her mother’s encouragement. Her mother, back in King’s Way, who’d discovered what Millie truly was and fostered it, rather than hide the magic away.
Dora continued down the page. When she chanted, the others repeated her. They held hands at times, even asked Millie to join them. And each time, Millie felt the tingle of magic—it flowed from hand to hand. And this, she realized, was what witches did. This was how they used their magic, not like Epik with a wand, but behind closed doors where their true power was hidden.
Millie wanted to be excited, wanted to want this… But she got bored. She would never make a good witch. There was too much pomp and not enough circumstan
ce, or something like that. She was so bored her eyes glazed over. The lids got heavier and heavier. The steam from the cauldron wasn’t helping matters. The scent wafted through the air, and Ursa, above them, seemed to blend with it.
“Are you sleepy young one?” Dora’s voice echoed in her ears.
“Yes,” Millie heard her own voice say.
“Then rest your eyes.”
They chanted again.
Off script and out of turn, Begonia said, “I do hate we have to do it this way.”
“It requires a young soul,” Schmilda retorted. “Besides, she’s her friend.”
“They’ll be linked forever.”
“She won’t mind! Stop interrupting.”
“Millie, can you still hear us?” Dora asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was detached, she could hardly hear it any longer.
“Millie, will you give a piece of yourself so that your friend Ursa may live?”
If it was a question, Millie didn’t care.
“Yes,” she agreed. She couldn’t have answered any other way.
Some hours later, Millie awoke in her bed. Beside her, Ursa was curled in a ball next to the wall, dressed in one of Schmilda’s old gowns.
It was close to but not quite morning, not yet. Only a faint sliver of pale moonlight filtered into the room.
Ursa turned over. Her eyes opened.
“You’re awake.” This wasn’t a question. Something about that rang bells in Millie’s mind.
“You’re alive.” Also, not a question.
“Only because of you.”
Millie smiled and teared up. “What are we supposed to do now?”
It was a question.
Ursa yawned and stretched. “I think we’re supposed to sleep.”
“No,” Millie laughed. “I meant with the rest of our lives.”
“What we always do, Millie: we’re supposed to fight.”
“But you—”
“Don’t have magic? I know. And they said it cost you some of your magic. Something else, too. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted to save you. Just to have you back, just to tell you this…”
“To tell me what?”
Millie smiled again. “Oh, that I was right! Magic is natural.”
Ursa sank into their shared pillow and laughed through her nose. “Yeah, I was already beginning to see that.”
They woke up the twins with their laughter.
“What’s going on? Who’s there?” Gal asked.
“Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”
“But I heard someone,” Doug moaned.
“Go back to sleep!” Millie whispered harshly.
They did.
13
The Shadow of What Was Found
The day was long, the training hard. Still Epik felt of shame wash over him. He wished he could do more to help Brendan and his crew. But wasn’t his mission more important?
What is my mission, anyway? he asked. Is it to defeat the Grand Sovereign? Yes. No. Maybe. And if that’s the case, Brendan said it was his mission, too—in a way. But what about Gerdy and Myra? Locked in that castle. I should save them, shouldn’t I?
But should he, really?
And thinking of saving, Epik couldn’t help but think of Todder. Why weren’t his instincts griping about saving him? He wondered whether the old captain was inside that shell of his body. Or had the Grand Sovereign figured a way to split the soul away from it?
Epik shook his head. He knew that couldn’t be so—or else the Grand Sovereign would have a much easier time stealing magic. The two were interconnected like fuel and fire. Though Epik wasn’t exactly sure which was fuel and which the fire or vice-versa.
Still, there had to be some way of doing both, helping Brendan and Gerdy—and Todder, for that matter.
But could Epik really be in three places at once? Schmilda had said as much. Yet the thought of secret tutoring with the old witch made his skin crawl.
Epik slid open the door to his and Kavya’s room. He could get a few winks of sleep before the first lesson. Kavya was asleep in bed; her snores were like a cat purring in the darkness. She had five distinct snores, and they each meant something different. Two were deep sleep, the first, a nightmare, the second meant she was having the best dream, of eating chocolate or sipping good wine. Her lightest snore meant she wasn’t asleep at all. Her second lightest meant he could wake her if he needed. But Epik didn’t know what this snore meant.
Firelight flickered against the wall. And something else did as well. Epik’s shadow bounced up and down, waving to get his attention.
“Impatient as ever, I see.” Epik closed the door with only a gentle bump against the frame. He whispered in a harsh tone, “Did you have fun on your gallivant7 about the realm?”
“Fun isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it,” his shadow offered. “But I do believe I’m getting the hang of it now—how the world works without a body to drag you around.”
“Oh. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you for so long. And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
The shadow shook its shadowy head and spoke in its shrill voice, “You’re really still sore about all this? It was you who set me free.”
“Keep your voice down.” Kavya inhaled deeply, turning over to her side. Her snores changed to the second lightest one. “I’m not sore,” Epik said sorely. “I’m just… I don’t know—I thought you’d eventually come back. And honestly, I thought you’d be more help than you are. Like we’d work together—not on two different sides.”
“See,” the shadow whispered, “that’s exactly why I’m here.”
“I’m sure it is. What did my father ask of you this time?”
The shadow waggled a finger at him. “Nah ah, your father sends his regards, but he no longer needs me. It was he who suggested I come back to you.”
“Great.” Epik sighed and carefully took a seat on his bed. Kavya’s snores changed again anyway. The halfling started to wash his dirty feet with water from the basin beside the bed. “My father, he didn’t have a plan, did he? I could use one about now—a good one, too.”
“Your father always has a plan,” his shadow began to defend Epiman, but curtailed that notion and said instead, “however, he didn’t share it with me this time.”
“I don’t understand your loyalty to him. You were there for my childhood—or lack thereof. I saw him twice as some mystical wizard. He showed up at one birthday party and wants to be voted father of the year? And if it’s because he had a plan to use me to overthrow his own father, I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. I was there,” his shadow affirmed. “And I was there when you buried yourself in books. Your father’s books, I might add, those he left for you to find.”
“I know,” Epik nodded, patting his feet dry, “but that’s not enough. I had no one to play with, no one to throw a ball with8. I just wanted what everyone else had.”
The shadow nodded.
“All I had were books—and a mother who even Fatty Cheapskate would never dare cross. Hell, she’s still meaner than any alligator in the Bog.”
“Most of the snakes, too.” Epik’s shadow took a seat on the shadow of the rocking chair that stood by the fireplace. “You’re right, Epik, you never had your father. But what if I told you I had mine?”
Epik looked up, abashed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I had my father, Epiman’s shadow, he stayed with us for a long while. Sure, sometimes he slipped away to report back to your father, but he was there with us. He watched over everything we both did.”
This came as a bit of a shock to Epik, but damned if it didn’t start to make sense. There were times in Epik’s youth when shadows danced along the wall, and while odd, they were never frightening to the young halfling.
“I have a question for you,” Epik said, changing tact. “Do you have a name? Calling you my shadow, well, it doesn’t exactly fit anymore.”
“I
’ve given names some thought, myself. I think I like Trace. What about you?”
“Oh, I’ll keep Epik.”
“No!” his shadow cried.
“Shhh!” Epik whispered. “I was just kidding. I like it, too, Trace.”
Trace wasn’t able to smile, but the shadow cheeks on the wall broadened.
“Trace,” Epik said, “I need your help. This train Brendan’s after. I need to know if they fixed it. I need to know what it carries, where it goes. He said Todder might be with it. And I need to know if he’s okay. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’ve tried to find the—”
Epik cut off Trace’s thought. “Brendan said something about a track. It led into the mountains—perhaps through the mountains. One of Brendan’s crew has a map. It should lead right to it.”
The shadow nodded. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll find this train for you.”
“You will?”
“Of course. I work for you now, boss.”
“Thank you,” Epik said.
Trace slipped out of the room without a sound. Epik’s eyes lingered on the spot where the shadow had been.
Kavya’s snores stopped.
“I know you’ve been listening.”
“I know you know.”
“I know you know I know.”
“Stop being cute.”
“Only if you’ll stop looking at me like that,” Epik said, smiling. There was still time before his secret lesson.
“Never!” Kavya shook her head and opened the covers.
Later, lost in thought, Epik didn’t sleep but sat up waiting and thinking—thinking maybe Epiman cared more for him than he’d previously thought.
14
Moving Spirits
Of course, Epik had no need to tiptoe out to the kitchen that night, padding on his feet would suffice—halflings were the quietest beings in the realm, after all. Even quieter than tooth fairies.
Sight Beyond Epik Sight: A Steampunk Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 3) Page 6
