by Martha Carr
Unless they were properly checked out by a gnome and a record kept, the pages remained blank. Once the niceties were handled, the words and images would appear, but only on the page someone was reading.
“Be sure to bring it back on time,” said the gnome, tapping the book with a stubby finger.
“Or it’ll come flying back on its own,” said Correk, finishing the thought.
“And we’ll revoke your privileges for a year!” the gnome added, pointing for emphasis. The flower on his hat gathered its petals and did a raspberry, sticking out a pale green tongue.
“I remember.”
“You were a troublemaker back in your day. We remember you still!” he warned, as he waddled back toward the shelves. “Two weeks,” he shouted over his shoulder. The flower settled back into place as the gnome magically zipped down an aisle, covering almost the entire mile before turning left.
“They never forget a damn thing,” said Correk, watching him go. “Why humans worship them with little statues outside of their homes I will never understand.”
“They got the hat wrong, too.”
Correk started and looked down to see a silver willen. No one’s favorite creature. They were rodents the size of small dogs that could walk on two legs and were adept at taking things that didn’t belong to them.
“Pretty bauble,” said the willen, balancing a ring between his paws. Correk looked down to see that the ring was missing from his hand and he snatched it back from the willen before it was secreted somewhere in the folds of its silvery skin.
“Finders, keepers,” snarled the willen, reaching out with its long, thin claws fully extended.
“Not always,” said Correk, slipping it on. “Slither off somewhere else.” Correk got a tighter grip on the book, wondering if the willen could steal it from his hand unnoticed.
“The ring for information,” the willen offered, his pupils spinning with excitement. Correk looked away. It was a way to hypnotize their prey long enough to strip them of their belongings.
“You mean gossip.”
“Sometimes it’s gossip, sometimes it’s important. You decide. Do we have a deal?”
“No, not at all. I don’t need to know about anyone’s private life.”
“Private life? Hardly worth a ring,” said the willen, drawing out the words. “No, this is about the human you secured for a task. You call her detective, don’t you?”
“Close enough and what could you know that would earn you a ring?”
“I’ll tell you what,” said the willen, twitching its long, metallic tail. “I’ll let you decide. The Light Elves are known for their honor. If my information is only gossip to you, I’ll leave you be.”
“But not the rest of the castle,” Correk said.
The willen shrugged. “Pointless, it’s in our nature. Despite all of your traps, and walls and shields. We have our ways. Besides, even if I didn’t come back, we travel in packs,” he said, smiling, his whiskers twitching. “I may exit the premises but my cousins will bring back a little something for me. If it’s valuable information, you give me the ring. As a gift, not theft. Deal?” asked the willen, smiling, his whiskers curling up on both sides and his pupils spinning again.
Correk looked up at the sky. “Agreed.”
“She’s not going to retrieve the necklace, the detective. Very powerful forces want her to fail,” he squeaked then belched. “Some good, some not so good. Sorry, dined on a tasty plunkett fish this morning.” He worked a fish skeleton slowly out of his mouth, still twitching. The willen bit down, crunching the bones. “Satisfying,” he said. A little bit came back up again. “Tasty twice.”
“What forces? Oriceran forces?”
“Of course. Willens don’t care for Earth,” he whined. “Our magic isn’t strong enough there and the humans react so dramatically when they see us and that was thousands of years ago. Imagine what they’d do to us now. They have all those large machines. Run us right over,” he squeaked, wringing his front paws. “Although they do fear us, quite appropriately. Some of our kind still live in the shadows in the depths of the Earth, in something called a subway. So many tunnels, I hear.”
“What forces?” Correk demanded.
“Right, right. Sure, sure. There are some who can sneak up on their prey even better than a willen. Look for one among the prophets who is long extinct.”
“A riddle?” Correk said angrily, his eyes starting to glow and his fingers twitching.
The willen backed on all four legs, ready to scurry away.
“Way more clues than a usual willen riddle. I’m being generous. The ring?” he asked, righting himself back on his back legs, holding out a paw.
“One added condition. You hear anything else about this extinct prophet and the detective, anything at all, you come and tell me. This ring,” he said, sliding it off his finger as the willen licked its lips, “is a down payment on that information. Deal?” asked Correk, holding the ring just out of the willen’s grasp.
“It’s a dangerous thing you ask. The extinct one holds very dark magic, even more than the gnomes,” said the willen, glancing nervously at the gnomes, still scurrying around the shelves. A book flew through the air, its pages ruffling as a gnome caught it, stamped it returned and replaced it on the shelf. The flower on his hat sneered at the willen.
“It’s an assignment that could kill even a willen, if I’m caught. Small danger of that, though. You may find out more than you want to know,” the willen squeaked, reaching for the ring.
“I will worry about that. Do we have a deal?”
“Of course, of course. A down payment on further information. As you wish,” he agreed. Correk dropped the ring into his waiting paw. It disappeared into the folds of his skin a ‘plink’ as the ring rolled against something metallic. The willen smiled up at Correk, one side of his whiskers curling tightly.
“Enjoy your book,” he said. “It’s a fascinating read. Willens can only read books on the premises. None of the gnomes trust us. Foolish. We could make some wonderful trades.”
Correk’s eyes glowed just enough to warn the willen as it trotted upright out of the room, dropping to all four at the hallway and disappearing from sight.
Correk tucked the book into his cloak and hurried through the castle to the nearest outside wall. “Altrea Extendia,” he said, sending out a shower of bronze sparks forming into a spiral staircase.
He hurried down the stairs, the steps disappearing behind him, and across the grounds, slipping into the deep woods. They were dense with tall canopies that towered far above the Oriceran ground below, cutting off most of the sunlight. Many of the trees were species brought from Earth, most of them transported over thirteen thousand years ago before the portals closed.
But there was a legend of a gardener of the forest who was part human, part Dark Elf who still made the occasional trip to bring back different seedlings to plant in his garden. It was rumored he even collected rare species of animals and insects and set them free in the darker parts of the vast forest. No one had ever met him but he made a good story to scare young elves.
Correk held out a fireball lighting his way, and left another one behind him to mark where he had turned. He was veering off the path created by the Wood Elves and into the darker parts of the forest that stretched to the mountain range in the far distance. It was a shorter route over the mountains to Rodania, the lands of the Arpaks and Nychts, winged men and women.
No one was ever known to take the shortcut and venture into the darkest parts of the forest where the trees grew even closer together and the wilder beings lived.
The forest was suddenly alive with sounds he couldn’t quite place.
Nuts and leaves crunched under his feet as he tore aside vines and stepped over old logs, keeping a sharp eye for anything that might leap out.
He’d heard stories of beasts, both big and small, like vicious bugs that could crawl under your skin, and large flying creatures with armored tails, all his
life but he believed very little of it.
“Crawk, craaaawwwk.” He heard the sound of wings flapping and the branches of the trees fluttering but he couldn’t make out what had just taken flight. Its screeches faded away over the canopy.
His eyes glowed and a compass appeared on the fireball, the needle slowly turning till it pointed due north. Underneath were the longitude and latitude of Oriceran. He was in the right spot.
“Show yourself,” he said. “I don’t have much time.”
An old oak started to shake as if to shed all its bark. It was in front of a thick stand of elder trees, many of them covered in vines.
Two eyes blinked open, looking around for signs of movement. Each eye had two round, green irises with a dark black pupil in the center and each one moved independently of the other, sliding around the eye, looking in every direction.
“We’re alone,” said Correk, “at least from anything that isn’t interested in us solely as dinner. Show yourself. Completely.”
A Wood Elf stepped forward and small squares all over his body began to flutter and turn, flipping over and changing the surface of his entire body from the texture of the nearby oak tree to the smooth olive complexion of the Wood Elf. The irises all slid toward the center of the eye. The multiple irises helped him to take in information from a wide field of view, processing it into one complete picture.
The features were left over from the time of the wars, over thirteen thousand years ago. It made them even better chameleons in the forest.
“Hold still!” warned Correk.
A yellow lizard the size of Correk’s arm with bulging eyes that rotated independently, dangled from a nearby vine right by the Wood Elf’s ear. The Elf’s left irises moved to get a better look.
“It’s merely a lizard,” said the Wood Elf. He sang instead of speaking, much like the Light Elves but in deeper tones.
“Move slowly,” said Correk. “We’re in the darker, uncharted parts of the forest. I have never believed any of the stories either, but now is not the time to find out I was wrong.”
The Wood Elf slowly turned his head to watch the lizard lazily open its mouth, unfurling its long, pointed tongue. At the end was a small green caterpillar with a large circle of red on its face surrounded by a black stripe. Two thin, red and white-striped antennas extended out the back, bobbing up and down. Two black eyes were fluttering, apparently it was dazed.
The caterpillar turned over, curling into a tight ball and the lizard rolled its tongue back into its mouth. At the last moment, the caterpillar opened its mouth wide, revealing a pair of sharp incisors it used to rip off half of the lizard’s face. The lizard let out a sharp squeal, opening its mouth again, trying to shake the caterpillar loose, but it was too late.
The Wood Elf took a step back, the squares all over his body flipping over again, blending back into the surroundings. The irises of his eyes spread out, keeping watch.
The caterpillar opened wide and bit down again, tearing off another chunk. The lizard fell to the forest floor as the caterpillar chewed, dragging off the squealing lizard.
When it was over the Wood Elf stepped out again, his appearance returning to a smooth, olive texture.
“It’s good to see you again, Perrom,” said Correk.
“After that little display, I’m not so sure,” Perrom replied. “Your insistence on meeting in the dark part of the forest is foolish. My people live among the trees and even we never travel through these parts.”
“That’s why I chose it. It was the only place I could think of where we could be assured no one else would be watching.”
“I’ve known you most of your life. You aren’t usually big on the drama. What’s changed?”
“This,” said Correk, pulling out a small figure-eight made of metal with a green scarab in the center. There were two figure eights intertwined on the back.
Perrom drew back, the skin along his arm and face fluttering as he tried to decide whether or not to stay.
“Where did you get that?” he demanded, horror rising on his face. “Those were all destroyed over six hundred years ago. Do you know what you’re holding?”
“I’m well aware that it’s the amulet from a Rhazdon follower.”
“Not just any follower. That’s the scarab of an elder. If that’s the familiar of an elder it contains very powerful dark magic. Where did you get it? Surely the gnomes didn’t give you something like that? Dammit! They have Rhazdon’s dark magic in that damnable vault too?”
“Slow down,” Correk said. “It didn’t come from the gnomes. I believe it came from a Rhazdon follower. A current one.”
The skin on Perrom’s arms fluttered again and his eyes widened.
“Not possible! They’ve been dead for over six hundred years! Since the uprising! Our elders made sure to exterminate every last one of them. Every warring faction came together to make sure that happened. They worship darkness and draw it into their magic! They were the cause of the last wars!” Perrom was practically shouting.
The birds overhead took flight, squawking and tweeting and a large brown snake slithered through the branches overhead.
“Keep your voice down. I’m telling you it’s from a follower. I found it in the village where the prophets stay when they gather to meet. I think it belongs to one of them.”
Perrom put his hands on the top of his head, trying to take in what Correk was saying.
“Impossible. The prophets have one purpose. To talk endlessly about the seer, Tessa and interpret the quatrains! They care about nothing else, especially as we get closer to the opening of the portals. You and I have both stood before each of them. It’s more likely one of them foolishly kept this as a souvenir. Rhazdon and his kind are gone from this world.”
“What if they’ve learned to disguise themselves, like you but in even deeper detail?”
Perrom held up his hands. “No, no, impossible. If what you’re saying is true then some of the rules we live by would be lies.”
“I was about to leave to meet you when a willen tried to steal my ring. I gave it to him in exchange for one of his riddles. He said to look for one among the prophets who is long extinct. The willen has seen the imposter.”
“May the forces help us. Rhazdon’s followers were barely defeated and at the cost of hundreds of good beings. To think that someone has been inspired to take up Rhazdon’s twisted cause? There’s no one left now who would even remember how his magic was defeated. Your father tried and look…”
“Don’t bring my father into this,” said Correk, between his teeth. “I need your help, and whether you like it or not, you owe me. The willen claims there are forces, good and bad, who are out to stop the human detective, Leira Berens from finding the prince’s killer so they can take the necklace for themselves. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What’s my part in this?”
“I need you to watch over things here if I get sent through a portal. Don’t act surprised. We both know that creatures have been taking chances and opening portals to Earth for a long time.”
“I’ve never tried it. Wood Elves have died or worse, ended up in the world in between.”
“Getting caught would be worse. Trevilsom Prison.”
“Put that thing back in your pocket,” said Perrom. “Be careful with it. Energy could be seeping out of it and poisoning you already. Never underestimate their magic or what a Rhazdon admirer would do to another living being just for fun.” Perrom shuddered, remembering the stories from the wars.
“If I go through a portal, no matter what, keep watch on this side. You can transform into your surroundings. Tell no one unless you have to and be careful,” said Correk. “When we know more, we will expose the imposter prophet together,” he added, grabbing Perrom by the shoulders, ruffling the surface of his skin.
“First, we will have to figure out which one of the fifteen prophets is the liar.”
“That’s where this archaeologist will help us,�
� said Correk. “Someone powerful helped him into the castle without being seen. We have to find him and bring him to justice if we’re going to get the whole story.”
CHAPTER SIX
“I’m supposed to be looking for a killer,” said Leira, pulling the Mustang onto Parmer Lane heading back to the station.
Hagan took another large sip of his coffee and swallowed slowly. “First part of this whole story that makes sense. Go on.”
“The killer was a human being who somehow made his way onto their turf and killed a prince. Stabbed him clean through and stole a kind of magical necklace. Not all of it makes sense to me, yet. There’s a steep learning curve.”
“No fucking kidding,” Hagan agreed. “I know they’re sure, but are you sure they’re after the right guy?”
“As sure as you can be. I saw Bill Somers do it, well kind of saw him. Over there, dead bodies can do a kind of instant replay of the last hour but it only lasts for a few days.”
“I know that this family of what, elves? Whatever. I can understand they want to see justice, whatever that adds up to on their side, which is another potential problem, Berens. But, why do you have such a hotfoot to solve it?”
“That magical necklace goes off like a timer in just a few more days now and will transfer the energy to whoever is in possession of it. I don’t have much time left to find him. When their two moons are full again the power is released.”
“This is a lot to take in. Two moons, no less. A necklace that can transfer magical energy. This Somers is a magician too, I take it.”
“Something like that, maybe, but I think he has to know how to use it. Kind of fifty-fifty about whether he’s got the skills. He’s an archaeologist, I don’t know much more but I need to find him and I have to hurry.”
“And you have to take your tiny friend with you.”
“It’s a duckling kind of thing. I saved his life and now he’s imprinted on me. If I’m understanding the directions that came with him, where I go he goes,” Leira grimaced. The lump in her pocket stirred and the troll poked its head out.
