The Sapphire Manticore (The Lost Ancients Book 4)

by Marie Andreas

  Alric slowed the horses down and Tag in the second wagon came up beside us. “Where did the others go?” Harlan asked as they pulled alongside and both wagons stopped.

  “Locksead was hurt, so Qianru kept him with her. She was going to have Joie circle back to her mansion.” I kept things short.

  “But why didn’t the ghosts go after them?

  Alric answered this one. “The ghosts are after Taryn and me only. I’ve no idea why, or how they are managing to impact things in the mortal world.” He looked up and we all saw the thin red streaks marring a beautiful blue sky. That the majority of the red was over the forest couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Padraig was right behind Harlan and the identical way they nodded was comical.

  “That was a very disturbing event. Hopefully Siabiane will have some insight to that as well.” Padraig came out of the wagon, and then nodded at the fields around us. “This worked not only to disperse our dead friends, but cutting through here will save time. Lady Qianru’s wagons might not be in excellent shape when she gets them back, but we should be able to reach Siabiane’s location within a few hours.” He looked around the field, taking an interest in some distant mountains.

  Finally Alric coughed to get his attention. “Do you want me to keep pointing this way, or tell us where we are going? I haven’t been to Siabiane’s place directly in years and I’m sure she’s changed some of the pathways significantly since then. Not to mention, even though the ghosts are gone until nightfall, we do have others after us.”

  Padraig grinned. “After you at any rate. I wish we’d had time to have them properly try you and clear your name before we fled. Your grandmother will be furious at me.” He walked around to the front of the wagon and looked at Tag. “Sorry, my lad. Getting where we need to go is sort of an instinctual thing. I’m certain Siabiane will adore you once she gets to know you, but she’s a bit fussy about strangers.”

  Alric let loose a laugh at that. “You might say that. I don’t think Flarinen has forgiven her yet for the stunts she pulled when he and his men tried to bring her in. And that was ten years ago.”

  Tag had first looked disappointed at being removed from driving duties, but at Alric’s words he scrambled down quickly, and was inside the wagon before Padraig had even climbed on board.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  I had looked forward to a few hours of chatting with Covey, figuring that at least until we got out of these fields, the wagon was rocking too much to rest.

  I was wrong.

  I’d only realized that I’d fallen asleep when I rolled off the seat I was on and landed awkwardly on the ground.

  I felt bad until I looked up to see Covey blinking owlishly as well. Good to know that even she needed sleep sometimes.

  The sudden stop even rattled the faeries, as I heard a few serious snorts coming from the bag, then twelve tiny, brightly colored creatures in overalls came stumbling out of my pack. Bunky purred at them with what I assumed was an update of the situation.

  Garbage said a few low words to the other faeries, then flew over to where I was pulling myself back on my seat.

  “You lose house?” She was very definitely cranky about that. More likely, she was upset about losing all that free ale.

  “We were under attack.” I nodded to Bunky. “He can tell you later. We had to run.”

  “We go back then.” Garbage liked her world simple, and Qianru’s house was a nice place to stay.

  “We can’t, sweetie; there are people, and things, after us.”

  Garbage sighed and sat down on my knee. “Is bad, I know.” I always wondered what really went on in those tiny heads, but in this case it seemed that Garbage had a better understanding of things than I thought—and possibly even better than me. She’d just been hoping we hadn’t noticed. She nodded, to something only going on in her head, then flew up and patted my cheek. “Is okay, we keep safe.” Then she flew to join the others as they discussed things with Bunky.

  Covey watched the exchange and nodded. “Very interesting. You protected them, or rather Crusty, when that thing tried to come through the ceiling. And now they feel they need to protect you.”

  All of the other faeries seemed as sober as they ever got, but Crusty was still listing to one side. She ran across the seat to me instead of flying. “Is no. We always protect. Is why we here.” Garbage and Leaf both flew over and tackled their friend as the last words came out. Leaf sat on her, and Garbage shook her finger in her face and soundly chastised her in native faery. At least I assumed it was a chastisement—native faery all sounded like one long buzz to me.

  Crusty finally shook her head, and Leaf got off her. “I lied. Fibbing. Drunk.” Then she gave me a classic lopsided Crusty Bucket smile and flew back to the others. Leaf and Garbage followed.

  “I think we have something going on that might have to wait until later.” I had no idea what had just happened, but the entire reason I ended up with the faeries was because a witch who had helped me out once needed to unload them. Taking them was the price for her help.

  Nevertheless, if the faeries told themselves a different tale, that wasn’t my worry.

  We were all startled when a woman’s ghost-like head and shoulders peered through the closed door. “Oh, do come in, I’ve been waiting to meet you all.” Siabiane seemed more solid than she’d been back in the castle, but was still able to go through solid objects. Maybe the closer she was to her actual body, the more solid her projection.

  Covey looked surprised at the appearance but had recovered by the time Siabiane withdrew. The faeries went into a frenzy and almost broke the door pushing on it to get out. I reached it before they decided to start trying to pass through solid objects and flung it open.

  I was surprised that none of us had awakened on the trail here. I stepped out of the wagon and was hit by a cool mountain breeze. We were high in what I assumed were the mountains Padraig had been looking at from the field. The road behind us was…not there.

  “Now, I know I was tired, probably everyone else as well, but there was no trail? How could I have slept through that? How could any of us?” I added as Harlan, Orenda, and Tag came out of their wagon—all yawning and stretching.

  “You can’t keep knocking people out whenever you feel like it.” I shook my finger at Alric then moved it to both he and Padraig.

  “In this case, I am afraid we needed to. The trail to get here is ill-used and secret. While you were all asleep we were able to use some spells to cross it without any damage or delay.” Padraig was so reasonable that it was hard to stay mad at him. Alric just would have said he needed to do it and be done with it.

  I stalked past Alric as he freed the horses. “You need to be more like him.” Then I walked the direction the faeries had flown, to an elaborate cottage that looked to be part of the mountain and the trees itself.

  “But I did the same thing he did,” Alric said.

  “He explained it better.” Never mind that Alric hadn’t been given a chance to explain at all, I knew what he would say.

  We left Alric and Padraig taking care of the horses and walked down the path.

  It was far larger than any cottage I’d ever seen and appeared to be carved out of a single tree. And it vanished into the mountainside itself.

  The markings and decorations that covered it didn’t look so much like carvings but rather the way the wood went. The magic involved in the creation of it flowed over me, joining the breezes from the mountain above us. It was an old magic, very old. Not unkind, just wary. I knew that if anyone managed to find Siabiane by accident, they wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone else. Not as long as her protections were in place.

  The plants that surrounded the cottage were carefully tended, and while almost appearing to be random and wild, gave a strong feeling of planning. Everything was here for a reason.

  Somehow I didn’t think the crashing, bleating, and yelling I heard explode from inside the cottage was planned by anyone.


  The ornate wooden door flung open and Siabiane, looking far more harried in person than her projections did, motioned us forward.

  “Come help! It isn’t sure what to think of the faeries.” She looked above me, where Bunky hovered. “But it might like you. Come on!” She vanished back into her home.

  Covey and I jogged inside, as Bunky ducked to fly under the doorway with the others coming up behind. The inside probably usually looked as magical and orderly as the outside. I’d have to imagine that because it was utter chaos right now.

  We were in what was probably the sitting room, but chairs and tables were knocked over, rugs kicked up, and potted plants tipped over. No one was around.

  Sounds came from further in, down a wide hallway to the right, so I led all of us down that way.

  It opened into another room, one filled with books and tables and deep chairs. The faeries were flying all over squealing with laughter as something chased them. It was about the size of Bunky, but had a clear, almost green appearance, and its wings were huge and leathery.

  It bleated as it chased Penqow and Dingle Bottom around a freestanding shelf of books. Bunky buzzed after the creature but it didn’t seem like the faeries were upset. More like a bunch of mice who knew the cat they were playing with couldn’t touch them.

  The creature pulled up as soon as Bunky got near it, spun in the air, and gronked. There was no other way to describe the sound that came out of the creature…and I wasn’t sure what sounds gargoyles were supposed to make.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I found a nice chair and slid down into it. “You…you have a gargoyle?” One that while moving about and seemingly solid, vaguely appeared to be made of glass.

  Siabiane clapped her hands and beamed even though her white-blonde hair was sticking up, her house was tossed about, and way too many flying beings were flitting about in a small space. “Yes! Isn’t he amazing? Does he look like anything you know?”

  The creature in question, the gargoyle, bumped noses with Bunky. They both made their own weird little sounds, and then flew over our heads and out the door. The faeries, not to be ignored by their new playmate, took off after them both. Covey nodded to Siabiane, then followed the gargoyle.

  Garbage buzzed back a second later and kissed Siabiane on the head. “Is good!” Then she took off after the rest of the band.

  I pointed back the way they left but didn’t get out of the chair. “How did you do that? I thought gargoyles weren’t real, and why does it look like the relic I found?” The questions came tumbling out at near the same instant. It was larger than the gargoyle relic, a bit bigger than Bunky, but it was way too similar not to be related.

  A chill went through me. Padraig and Lorcan trusted Siabiane—even Alric seemed to. But I knew nothing about her. Was she behind the attack on Padraig?

  “Oh, child, please tell me you do not play games of chance. Your face is an open window to all of your thoughts.” Siabiane pulled up the chair next to me and sat down. “No, I was not behind the attack, and yes, I am on the side of good. As for how I created our little friend, that is a much longer story, and for the most part very dull. I did use the information about the glass gargoyle relic to create him, but he didn’t come to life until a few days ago.” Now she leaned forward to peer closely at me. “I believe it was at the same time you crossed the shield into our enclave.”

  I pulled back a bit. She wasn’t accusing me of anything, but she was strongly questioning the correlation.

  “You think I brought it to life? From way over there? I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I’m pretty sure that is way outside of my skill set.” A thought hit me regarding what else had gone on around then. “That was also when that suicidal mage threw himself into your peoples’ shield. Couldn’t that have done something?” Although if that was part of what brought the gronking little beastie to life, I was feeling a lot less fond of it.

  “I thought of that as well, and I’m still not sure what that monster’s remains are doing, but they were very active over your friend’s abode…and the forest. They now appear to have spread out over the city itself. They are so thin I doubt most of the citizens have even noticed it.”

  I told her about the ghosts and why those remains might have been moving around. She seemed shocked, then saddened. “I couldn’t see them, only the activity of the plasm locked in the shield. That is horrible. That creature is using our own people against us—they should be allowed to rest in peace.” She stared at a bookcase across the room for a few moments, and then shook herself.

  “That does make a difference. I assumed that something about your energy, or being, connected with the gargoyle and brought him to life. I will say your little friends all seemed to have helped focus him though. He’s been agitated since he came to life.”

  The way she said being made me think of Qianru and her weapon. Padraig and Alric had their ideas as well. Which probably meant a fair number of elves working on these things were looking for this relic finder. And thinking I was it.

  “It’s not me, by the way.” I took some time to really look at the room. The collection of books and scrolls here was amazing. It said a lot that Covey was more interested in the gargoyle than the collection in here. Maybe she hadn’t noticed. “The relic finder of legend, or stories, or wherever it came from, it’s not me. They tested it last night.” I still felt the impact where Qianru’s weapon hit.

  Siabiane’s smile grew larger. “You are very observant. And yes, when Alric first came back after getting the gargoyle, his tales made me think you might be the one.”

  A loud crash and more bleating came from the front room. Siabiane sighed and rose to her feet. I followed.

  The front room was even messier than before, and it now held our entire party. Orenda, Tag, and Harlan were staying near the door, and the look on Orenda’s face said she was glad to hide behind Harlan’s bulk. Covey was trying to get the gargoyle to come down—he was demonstrating how exceedingly high the ceiling was and just kept bleating. Alric and Padraig were near the only still upright sofa and watching the gargoyle. Bunky and the faeries were up high as well, but staying back from the gargoyle.

  “He seems a bit worried about us, or rather, some of us,” Covey said with a look to Alric and Padraig. “He was settling down until they came in.”

  Siabiane nodded to me. “Can you ask your construct to tell the gargoyle they are okay? Yes, these two men had a strong reaction to him, but there’s a good reason for that.”

  I waved Bunky closer, but he was already purring at the gargoyle.

  “I’d say he understood you just fine.”

  The gargoyle bleated a few times, almost like a question, but then he gronked. Clearly he bleated when distressed but gronking was his preferred mode of communication. If anyone other than Bunky could understand him, it would be much better.

  He drifted lower, closer to us, but still out of reach. Bunky and the faeries all came closer as well.

  Alric held out his arm for the gargoyle to land on like a bird of prey, although looking at those thick talons, I wasn’t sure that was a great idea. “It’s okay. You reminded us of something that we both had an encounter with, one that didn’t end well. You picked up on our emotions.” The gargoyle flew around a bit but still didn’t sit on anyone.

  “Oh, do all sit.” Siabiane flicked her hand and all of the furniture went back upright. There were even a few more chairs than before.

  I sat on one of the sofas and Bunky and the faeries all sat next to me—apparently Siabiane’s word was to be followed. “Do you know these faeries?” I had a feeling Siabiane knew a lot of things, and since a while ago the faeries had said they were older than everything, I figured that might explain their reaction to her.

  Siabiane held out her hand and Crusty immediately flew over. I expected the others, or at least Garbage, to protest and go over there as well, but they all stayed politely sitting. They even kept their hands in their laps.

 
I had to learn that trick.

  Siabiane looked over Crusty, and even chittered a few words of native faery. I didn’t think a throat other than a faeries’ could make those odd sounds, but I was wrong.

  Crusty danced a little jig, and then chittered back in faery. A lot. She also flapped her arms around and pantomimed flying, swimming, and a bunch of things I couldn’t figure out.

  Finally Siabiane stopped her. “Thank you, my dear, that was very informative.” Crusty flew back to her friends and Siabiane looked to me. “No. I don’t know these personally, but I do know of their kin, and they know of me. I also have a very brief grasp of your history, thanks to our enthusiastic friend.”

  Crusty bounced to her feet and started another short jig but Garbage pulled her down.

  “The question is, how and why did you create him?” Padraig pointed up to the gargoyle still hovering above us.

  “And does it have the same properties as the original?” Alric looked far more worried than anyone else. But he had actually gone through what the original had been able to do—at least the first time. For some reason, the elves hadn’t been able to get it to replicate its dimension-hopping skills. Something I had a feeling would be fixed if we ever got the gargoyle and the chimera together. Or if whoever was hunting for the pieces did.

  Siabiane frowned and shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I don’t have the skill of the original builder.”

  “Skill or insanity? Who in their right mind creates a group of relics that can do a bunch of dangerous things separately, and when together can destroy an entire race?” I shook my head.

  “They might have had a very good reason.” Harlan had been silent up until now, something that spoke volumes as to how overwhelmed he was by Siabiane.

  “That was my thinking,” Siabiane said as she smiled at him. “And I have been remiss in my introductions; I am Siabiane.” She rose to her feet and did an elaborate bow. When she sat back down again, she pushed back her hair to try to pat it down. Her ears revealed what Flarinen had said about not being full elven. They were pointed but not as long nor as tapered as the elves. “I know Padraig and Alric, and know of Taryn and her faeries, and of course, Bunky.”