by Martha Carr
CHAPTER NINE
“Correk! Correk, you’re late!” Ossonia, a tall Light Elf who worked closely with the prophets had a ledger under her arm, and was tapping her foot. Correk tried not to smile when he was around her.
He didn’t want her knowing his crush dated all the way back to when they were in school together.
He followed behind her quickly moving feet, trying not to notice her long brown tresses bouncing from side to side as she walked.
She raised her right hand, making signs with her fingers as fiery symbols flared. The mailboxes in front of them flipped over and over, revealing a door.
“What’s a back door doing here?”
“Not a back door,” Ossonia replied. “Just a door.”
It slid open, disappearing into a pocket, revealing a large chamber with four levels of gallery seats ringing the room. Correk recognized some of the Oricerans present. They were the chosen council for the larger group of followers known as the prophets.
Down in the center of the room, beneath where the prophets sat, was a large, worn leather-bound ledger under a tall, glass dome. Correk knew from all the stories he was told as a child it was the book that contained all the ancient quatrains. The original notebook of the elder gnome who recorded the blind seer’s quatrains.
The sight of the prophets gathered together in the deep recesses of the post office, away from prying eyes, instantly darkened his mood. He scanned the room, wondering who might actually be a new follower of Rhazdon’s methods, posing as a friend and an ally.
Correk knew enough about Rhazdon’s old cult to know they were never considered anyone’s friend. It wasn’t going to be easy to ferret out someone powerful enough to remain undetected by the other prophets. After all, they were a suspicious lot by nature.
He needed to be calm and gather information. Take his time. Surely, there was time, if the game had been going on for hundreds of years already. It had to be a slow-moving plot.
“Correk, please step into the center of the room,” said an Arpak, a winged man, from the second tier.
Correk complied. Twinkling lights descended, bobbing in the air. He looked up and was startled to see it was dark.
“It’s just an illusion,” Ossonia whispered from her nearby post. “The prophets find it calming.”
“Do you know why we asked you here?” asked the Dwarf. He was dressed in an ill-fitting suit, a size too small. Dwarves were loath to wear anything but worn-out pants. The formality was not a good sign. They were worried about something. Over the suit was the customary blue robe with the two moons on the pocket inside of a large O. Twinkling star systems radiated across the back and changed position as the prophet moved around, staying aligned with the sky directly above them.
All of the prophets wore the robe over their customary attire.
He took a deep breath before he answered, sensing what he said next would matter more than he had realized. “The truth is, I do not.”
He stole another look around the room but no one looked uncomfortable or warier than usual. Of course, if it was true and there was an imposter in the room, whoever it was may have had hundreds of years to perfect their lie. There was no way of knowing when it all started.
“Correk is a Light Elf and therefore a Cousin. I will direct the remaining questions, as is customary. First, let me start by saying for the entire council, we are sorry for the loss of Prince Rolim. A great tragedy, made more so by the usual peace that we now enjoy on Oriceran,” said an older Light Elf. He had been serving on the council for over a hundred years.
“Thank you. I will see that the king and queen hear your condolences,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.
“That peace is a result of all parties, over thirty different intelligent species, agreeing to abide by the treaty. How much do you know of the Great Treaty?”
“I have learned the basic outline that the prophets require.”
“Tell us—”
“Then, you know about the ban on opening portals between Oriceran and Earth?” asked the frowning Wood Elf, cutting the Light Elf off.
“Enough,” said the Light Elf, jumping to his feet, slamming his hand on the curving wood table in front of him. “You will direct your answers only to me,” he said to Correk and glared at the Wood Elf. “Tell us, what are the three most important points of the treaty?”
Everyone is more short-tempered than usual, thought Correk.
Even though Correk was only appearing as a courtesy to the council, he wasn’t interested in insulting them. They held sway with too many people who believed in their readings of the quatrains. Besides, someone among them was an imposter.
“The sectioning of the lands between the different kingdoms. The respect for life and property, equally for everyone.”
“And?” asked the Light Elf, before anyone could say anything.
“The ban on opening portals between Oriceran and Earth before the next Gold Age.”
“They were all put into place for the security and well-being of everyone on Oriceran. Would you agree?” asked the Crystal prophet, who had travelled from the most northern reaches of Oriceran for the gathering. His entire body was made up of solid icicles that protruded everywhere and his presence was causing a chill in the air.
Correk slowly nodded his head. All of the Wood Elf’s irises were pointed at him. Their version of a cold stare-down.
“I’ll need you to verbalize all of your answers, please,” said the Light Elf.
“Yes,” Correk sang, his eyes glowing with anger for a moment. The language of the Light Elves sounded like song but they could moderate it when they wanted to be sure others understood. He had let his anger get the better of him.
He knew where this was going. Someone had seen them bring Leira to the castle and had become concerned the human beings on Earth would learn of Oriceran too early, ruining their plans to safely transport most, if not all of Oriceran to the other planet.
“Then can you explain why a portal was opened to Earth and a human who was unaware of our existence was brought to Oriceran?”
“We were in need of her help,” he said, deciding honesty was the best play to calm the council’s fears.
“It was a human that killed the Prince,” he finished.
The prophets started to whisper among themselves.
“You know this for certain?” demanded the Light Elf, loudly, silencing the others. “Was it this detective?”
“No, but we are certain it was a human. We saw the death revenant. The killer was a man who came here to steal from us. He took a very powerful amulet and escaped back to Earth. Out of respect for the treaty…”
“Stole an amulet?” the Wood Elf shouted. Correk noticed several of the prophets looked genuinely surprised.
“And because your magic wouldn’t help you on Earth,” the Light Elf said flatly.
“Yes, that’s true. That played a part as well. However, we still demand justice for the death of the Prince as well as not wanting that artifact to give its power to the wrong person. For that to happen, we needed help. We chose the woman, Leira Berens, from a place called Austin, Texas.”
“Why this woman? Isn’t she a fairly new detective? New at the job of finding out who did something wrong?”
Correk realized they must have been watching Leira. As usual, they were overly vigilant when it came to anything to do with Earth.
“Her skills are already proven in her world and her life circumstances fit our needs. She has no one who would need a long explanation about where she was going and when she would be back.”
“Or if things went wrong, would miss her,” added the Light Elf, looking down his long nose at Correk.
“Yes,” he said, quietly. “That is also true.”
“Did you know she took a magical creature with her when she left Oriceran?” Now it was Correk’s turn to be startled as he let the surprise wash over his face before he could compose himself.
“Good. You are surpris
ed. That’s the problem with bringing a human into our world. They know nothing about the dangers of Oriceran. She must have rescued a troll while she was here. They are very determined pests. It went back with her,” the Light Elf said, his mouth a thin, annoyed line.
“Damn troll,” he muttered under his breath.
“There’s a risk of exposure. Word of the troll has already spread,” the Dwarf added, looking nervously around.
“Tell us about the stolen artifact. Convince us that the detective is not being used solely for revenge,” said the Light Elf.
Correk looked up at the sky. Orion was overhead with the Cassandra belt of stars. The same formation as the last Great Year. The prophets are nostalgic, he thought. Use it.
“The artifact was a piece of lavender stone brought from Earth during the last Great Year. It held special powers to begin with but over the millennia, has been endowed with magic energy from every king of Oriceran. It rightfully belongs to the next heir to the throne when they become an adult.”
“Why is this the first we’re hearing of it?” asked a clearly angry Wood Elf.
Reminding them of the past had failed miserably.
“It is not my place to speculate.”
“So, the necklace is familiar to the royal family and is not only a right of passage, but a sign of their nobility,” said the Light Elf. “The energy that runs through it must feel so comforting, and now it’s gone.”
“Along with the prince’s life,” added Correk. “It could cause great harm in the wrong hands. It has to be returned and I ask your forbearance to understand that Queen Saria needs the man brought back to justice.”
“Not revenge.”
“No,” said Correk, “Trevilsom Prison will satisfy.” Trevilsom was carved into rock on an island in the middle of the ocean. Correk had seen the effects of the prison on a dwarf who was caught trying to steal from the library. A rare book on forbidden magic that was promptly returned to the vault.
The dwarf came out of the prison unable to think straight long enough to cast a spell or sing a line of magic and was reduced to begging and taking odd jobs. It was enough justice for the prince’s killer.
The Light Elf looked relieved at his answers.
“Thank you for your rigorous honesty. We needed to be sure of your character because we have a favor to ask of you. We will need a moment to confer.”
“Of course,” said Correk, and stepped back to Ossonia. The prophets gathered in a huddle, whispering to each other. It didn’t take long before there was an agreement and they took their seats.
“Let us be clear. Your help is vital to us,” said an Ogre that towered over the other beings sitting on the council. The robe draped around his shoulders took up yards and yards of material and was large enough for the entire constellation of Canis Major, the Great Dog. Other robes had only a few stars.
“Of course,” said Correk, stepping back to the center, steeling himself for the request.
“We need you to go to Earth and assist Leira Berens in retrieving the necklace, the troll and the killer, without detection.”
“You want me to go to Earth?” asked Correk, confused. “But the treaty?”
“We feel it’s necessary to make an exception. You see, we are the ones who brought over Bill Somers in order to trade information. We will need to be the ones who apply justice.”
“What?” Correk stumbled backwards, steadying himself on the glass dome.
“No,” Ossonia gasped, when Correk made contact with the glass. A sharp pain stabbed through his head and he recoiled, pulling back his hand. The pain lingered and he squeezed his eyes shut until someone muttered, “Portasus.”
The top of his head cooled and the pain lifted.
“Why would you do this to us?” he asked, his voice rising.
“We did nothing to you. We are only responsible for choosing poorly. We have our reasons and they are more important than everything that’s happened. You will have to trust that the eventual safety of everyone on this planet was a worthwhile sacrifice,” said the Light Elf, holding up his hand to stop Correk from speaking.
“There is so much you don’t know. Give it perspective.”
“Do not ask me to understand any of this,” Correk sang furiously, his eyes glowing.
“Be assured,” said the Dark Elf rising, his eyes aglow. “We are not.”
The tension in the room rose as Correk felt the words of a spell cross his lips. A flame rolled out in front of him, licking at the robes of the Dark Elf.
He waved his hand over the flame, putting it out before it could do any real harm, glowering at Correk. Ossonia stepped forward and stood by Correk’s side. He could see that her ledger was trembling in her hands.
“This is not productive,” the Light Elf said. “Unless someone is considering breaking the treaty altogether, I suggest everyone stand down.”
Correk flexed his hands, willing the symbols to fade back under his skin. “When do you need my voluntary help?” he asked. He wondered how he would face the king and queen and not tell them.
“Now,” said the Light Elf, and he opened a portal. “You are to stay for as long as it takes. Keep the detective safe and bring Bill Somers to us, along with the necklace. No one on Earth can know you are there. We have learned the hard way that human beings don’t always do well with the truth.”
On the other side of the portal was the interior of the green Mustang and Leira driving down the highway.
“What the fuck?” she blurted, hitting the brakes. “Yum fuck!” came from somewhere deep inside the car.
CHAPTER TEN
“Of all the stupid shit!” Leira yelled, pressing herself against the driver’s side door, yanking the steering wheel to the right, and veering off the road. The Mustang mowed down a green highway sign that snapped neatly in two. There was a loud hiss from the front of the car, and steam and smoke rose up over the hood.
The troll, sensing danger, sprung out of her pocket, growing larger and filling the car, making it even harder for Leira to keep it under control.
A man in a minivan looked over and saw her struggling to get away from a large, hairy creature baring its teeth and swerved across two lanes of traffic, barely missing a bus full of seniors on their way to a casino.
Leira was in no mood to try deep breathing and help the troll shrink to its normal size. She looked up to see the Light Elf she called Bert peering through the portal, a pretty female Light Elf by his side, both looking very worried.
A voice from somewhere on the other side boomed, “Jump!” and an enormous, hairy hand appeared, shoving Bert and sending him tumbling into the back seat of the car, head first. The female came through briefly, reaching toward Bert but she was just as unceremoniously yanked back into Oriceran as the portal sizzled and the image faded.
“This isn’t a fucking bus stop, Bert!” yelled Leira, starting to see the wisdom in getting her heart rate under control. Yumfuck was still growing, and was pushing against the roof. He had already put a long scratch in the seat from one of his claws.
“Not the leather, Yumfuck!” she ordered, making him growl and press his face up against the window. A driver sipping coffee did a double take, his eyes locked on Yumfuck. The troll opened its mouth to roar, baring its teeth.
They were in danger of getting found out before she’d even made it out of Austin.
Leira shifted into detective mode and calmly assessed the situation. She watched the driver stare at Yumfuck, shaking all over, spilling the coffee on his hand.
“Must be hot coffee,” she said, as he moved his hand too quickly, spilling more. Leira made herself take a deep breath and even reached out to pet Yumfuck who was leaning against her, anyway. Bert would have to wait a minute.
He was swearing in the back of the car, pushing against the troll, who was practically sitting on his back. At least, Leira assumed that loud singing was swearing on Oriceran. It didn’t take long before he let loose with a few he had picked up on Ea
rth.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” she sang. It was the only song she knew all the words to.
“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Bert from the back seat.
“Singing. You should recognize it. You do it all the time. This was a favorite of mine when I was little. How I wonder where you are,” she continued, rubbing Yumfuck’s arm. The troll trilled and started shrinking.
The highway was starting to get backed up. Everyone in the lanes closest to the Mustang was craning to get a better look. One driver had even lowered his window and was holding up a cell phone. Leira turned her head away, hoping he didn’t get a shot of an oversized troll, a frustrated detective and an elf, rolling around in a Mustang. There was no chance that wouldn’t go viral.
Yumfuck shrunk until he was back to five inches and without Leira saying a word, he crawled into her pocket and curled up inside the pair of underwear waiting for him. She sighed with relief and took a moment before trying to talk to Bert.
“Ohm, Leira, stay calm,” she said, shaking out her arms. She turned around slowly and found an angry Light Elf on her back seat, his hair mussed and his robe hanging off to one side.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Correk snapped. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and patted his hair down.
“So, you know a few of Earth’s finer swear words as well. Very useful stuff. It’ll help you blend in,” she said. “Uh oh, this isn’t good. Don’t say anything.”
The red and blue flashing lights on top of the Travis County police car could be seen from a distance, weaving in and out of the heavy traffic. Leria knew they were searching for the green Mustang. She pulled out her badge while there was still time and waited, holding it and resting her hands on the wheel.
“Way too many opportunities for me to keep getting pissed off,” said Leira. “But, no, not with my feel-ometer right next to me, alerting the world with a growth spurt.”
