“Head Master!” Hepplesif called out from the top of the rocks. “Your arrival has come at a moment of need.” The kedgle’s legs clicked against the boulder as he scurried across it before he used the wings on his spidery back to lift into the air.
As the kedgle approached, Brayson questioned, “Why are you here, Hepplesif?”
“A child has gone missing. Come with me.”
Turning to follow the kedgle to Susanne’s home, Brayson responded. “Are you referring to Garrin?”
“Yes. The potion you gave the child didn’t work. The boy has been missing for 4 Peaks.”
“Four Peaks?” Brayson snapped. “Why wasn’t I summoned?”
“Perhaps you should speak with the child’s grandmother. When I suggested your retrieval, she declined.”
“Why?”
“Ask her. She’s with the boy’s mother.”
Leaving the kedgle to rejoin the search, Brayson walked up the steps to Susanne’s home. As he opened the door, he thought, This isn’t good. I have no way of finding George. With the door closing, he shouted, “Mary, where are you?”
Meanwhile, Dragonia
Lasidious’ Camp Amidst the Woods
The New Hell
South of the Mountains of Gannesh
Lasidious tossed three pieces of wood on the fire and then looked at Garrin. The god-child was sitting next to Sam Jr. on top of the prince’s blanket not more than three paces away. Garrin was sucking on a bottle filled with milk from the Vampire Queen’s bosom while Sam Jr.’s bottle was lying empty at the prince’s side.
“Drink up, my son,” Lasidious said in a soothing voice as he moved to sit next to Garrin on the blanket. “You’ll need your strength. For soon, we’ll begin our journey into the mountains.”
The Mischievous One extended a hand and tried to touch Garrin on the head, but his hand was stopped when Garrin put up a wall of force. The barrier surrounded both children, and though Lasidious tried to pass his hand through it, he was unable to.
Acting as if it did not matter, Lasidious reached next to his foot and retrieved a stick. He poked at the fire. “Your power is strong. It appears we’ll need to travel while you sleep.” He looked at Garrin and smiled while he spoke in his best baby voice. “Only then will your guard be down.”
The Mischievous One stood and took a few steps back. As he did, Garrin dropped the protective barrier. Lasidious smirked. “You’ll learn to trust me. Don’t you worry about that.” The god looked at Sam Jr. “But why does he desire to protect you at such a young age, my little prince? Garrin is acting above his seasons.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the Mischievous One saw a squirrel run up a nearby tree. Lasidious dropped to a knee and called to the beast. The rodent stopped its ascent, scurried back down the trunk and then rushed into the palm of Lasidious’ hand. With a snap of his fingers, Lasidious fed the squirrel a nut and then scratched the top of the rodent’s head.
Seeing Garrin’s amusement, the Mischievous One moved back to the blanket, took a seat and then extended the squirrel toward the god-child. During this series of moments, Garrin did not put up a barrier. Instead, he allowed Lasidious to place the squirrel on his lap, but as soon as the Mischievous One pulled his hand away, Garrin reformed the barrier.
The God of Mischief smiled. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? You trusted me, and now you have two friends to play with.” Lasidious took a seat on the forest floor beyond the far side of the fire. He then lowered to his back and put his hands behind his head. “Being a father isn’t so hard.”
A moment later, Garrin’s empty bottle thumped Lasidious on the head.
Meanwhile, the Docks of
Hell’s Merchant Island
After the Merchant Angels left Dragonia, Kepler sat patiently in his crate and waited for someone to let him out. But when no one came, the jaguar decided to break out. Using his magic, he blew the doors off the container and sent them flying into a stack of crates that were more than 30 paces away. Since that moment, Kepler wandered about. The morning was hot and humid, and the docks appeared to be abandoned.
Strange, Kepler thought while he prowled his surroundings. Something is amiss.
Crates of all sizes were scattered everywhere. They had been dropped off and left disorganized, almost as if the Merchant Angels no longer cared. Some were tilted on their sides while others were leaning against one another with their opposite ends sloping toward the ground.
Kepler noticed that on each door of the crates, there was a large parchment about half a paw print wide and equally as tall. They were laying face up behind a thick, sealed sheet of glass. Taking a closer look, each page appeared to be a manifest of the cargo that was locked inside. Some contained lists of food supplies, while others contained various metals, precious gems, plants, brick, stone and wood for building.
After reading the manifest of a crate that spanned a distance of more than 15 paces, Kepler swiped at the lock with his paw. The force of the blow sent not only the lock but both hasps and the hoop the lock was attached to flying. Using one of his nails, the jaguar pried open the doors to look inside. A rush of cold air poured out of the container and provided a soothing relief from the humidity that blanketed the mainland of Dragonia as he stared at a line of slaughtered corgans that hung by their legs.
A giant smile appeared as the cat licked his chops. Glorious! I shall have to hunt this territory often.
Kepler had nearly polished off two hind quarters when he heard a faint noise. Stepping out of the crate, he calmed his breathing and lifted his ears. Again, he heard the noise. It sounded as if something was scratching at the inside of another crate.
Crouching, the jaguar stalked the origin of the disturbance. It was not long before he stopped at the base of a stack of containers and looked up. The noise was coming from inside a small crate that sat wedged between three others on top of four much larger crates that had been carelessly stacked on top of one another. He estimated the small, square box and those surrounding it to stand no taller than the distance from his paw to his knee.
Again, the scratching sound emanated from the smaller crate. Rearing back, Kepler launched himself skyward and landed on top of the highest crate. He lowered his ear next to the smallest container and waited. A long silence passed while he looked at the manifest on the door. It was written in a language he could not read. A moment later, the scratching began again.
Sure of his choice, the jaguar knocked the other three crates of similar size aside. As the remaining container toppled into an upright position, a muffled shout could be heard from inside.
Kepler took a step back. Intriguing. What could it be?
Reaching forward, he swatted the corner of the box, causing it to spin. As it did, a long series of muffled shouts in a language he could not understand could be heard as some sort of creature bounced around inside.
Sitting on his haunches, Kepler grinned as he pondered the situation. Curious, he thought. Again, he nudged the crate, and again, another series of muffled shouts emerged. Looking out across the docks, he sighed, “Lucky for you there’s no one else around, or my curiosity would be fleeting.”
Wedging one of his nails between the lock and the hasp, the jaguar pulled the door off the crate. What he found inside was not what he expected. A short, scruffy creature with long, hairy ears, big feet, a pot belly, a pointy head, wide cheeks and a mouth that spanned the width of its face stood shouting at him with a small dagger clenched in its right hand.
Not quite the size of Maldwin, the creature charged and used its tiny knife to stab the end of one of Kepler’s toes.
The jaguar looked down and shook his head at the inconvenience. “So much for gratitude.” With his left paw, Kepler pinned the creature to the top of the crate, leaving only its head exposed between two of the jaguar’s claws. “Be calm, little one.”
A long series of moments passed before the creature stopped its tirade and settled down. With its energy spent, Kepler re
leased his hold and backed off. “Are you quite done?”
Rolling into a seated position, the creature sheathed its tiny knife and looked up. Its normal voice was far less irritating and sounded male. “Pegon de-saw plutee. Pegon de-saw plutee.”
Kepler’s right eye squinted. “I don’t understand.”
The creature motioned to the other crates Kepler had knocked to the side. “Pegon de-saw plutee. Pegon de-saw plutee.”
Studying the creature’s features, the jaguar noticed resemblances to two possible races. The first was grendle, a language he did not know, and the second was demon. He used this language and questioned, “Do you speak Demon?”
Stunned, the grendle-imp’s eyes widened. “I do, I do,” he responded in demon tongue. The imp pointed at the other crates. “Look at what you’ve done to my things.”
Kepler rolled his eyes and thought, Great. He doesn’t appreciate being released.
Watching the imp scurry across the top of the container to the other crates, the cat replied in the Demon language. “I’ve done nothing other than cast them aside. Your belongings are fine.”
The imp pulled at the lock of one of the crates, his little muscles bulging as he placed both feet against the side of the container for leverage.
Kepler grinned as he watched the imp’s face turn red. “Do you have a name?”
Lowering his feet back to the top of the container, the imp replied, “My name is Pydum.”
Kepler snorted. “What kind of a name is that?”
Pydum released the lock and let it fall. “You sound irritated.”
“I am. I released you, and you have failed to show your gratitude. I don’t want to deal with the immaturity of another freak.”
The imp moved next to Kepler and then placed his left hand on one of the cat’s ankles. “I apologize for my brashness. Thank you.”
“That’s more like it,” Kepler replied. Pushing the imp aside, the jaguar popped the locks on the other small containers that Pydum had claimed to be his and then jumped down to the ground. As the cat walked away, he shouted over his shoulder, “Good journeys, Pydum!”
After watching the jaguar walk around the next pile of containers, the grendle-imp walked into one of the containers and started to rummage through his belongings.
It was not long before Kepler strolled up to a collection of wagons that had been dropped on top of one another. What happened here? he thought. No other Merchant Island I’ve seen has been in such disarray. Those who command this territory are unworthy of doing so.
On the far side of the wagons, another sound caught the cat’s attention. Leaping over the pile, the jaguar stopped and looked up toward its origin. He watched the tip of a blade puncture the side of a crate three levels up. The sword was white hot, and as it cut an opening into the side of the container, the metal directly around the weapon melted. A moment later, a heavy foot kicked the carved door open.
The King of Brandor watched as the metal plummeted to the ground and landed with a thud. Sam then sheathed Kael, retrieved his belongings and then jumped to the ground.
Since Kepler’s last meeting with the King of Brandor was peaceful, the jaguar decided to approach. “What are you doing here?”
In disbelief of the cat’s presence, Sam closed his eyes and then reopened them. “I should be asking you the same thing. You’re a long way from home.” The king paused. “Is George with you?”
“He isn’t. Walk with me.”
A long conversation ensued. They talked about the disarray of the island and about what happened in Sam’s throne room. Hearing Kepler’s opinion on the old man’s demise, Sam convinced himself that he should go back to Brandor and face the consequences of his actions. The pair set out in hopes of finding Jehonas, the dock foreman, to see about getting the king a ride back to Grayham.
Western Luvelles
The Island of the Fairy King
It was just before dawn when Sharvesa appeared amidst the trees on the Fairy King’s island. She took a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree and was staring at an enormous mound of dirt that was covered with small, cave-like entrances while she remained in an invisible veil. The demon-goddess had decided to confront the Fairy King, Defondel, and it was approaching the Peak of Bailem.
“Defondel!” Sharvesa shouted as she stood from the tree and allowed herself to be seen. Adjusting her dark, leather outfit, laced with veins of gold, she continued. “I want to speak with you, King of Fairies!”
Seeing the demon-goddess’ size, over 40 fairies that were flying directly above the mound dove for cover. They disappeared inside the maze of tunnels that had been burrowed throughout the mound as countless other fairies flying amidst the treetops darted behind various branches and peered around the bark.
Again Sharvesa shouted. “Defondel! Make yourself known! I won’t leave until we’ve spoken!”
When no answer came, the demon reclaimed her seat on the trunk. “Show yourself, rapist!”
Sensing that she would be there a while, Sharvesa lowered onto her back. She stretched out across the trunk and used a knot that protruded from the side of the tree as a pillow. After placing her hands behind her head, she looked toward the sky. “If I must … I’ll wait an eternity! You’ll speak with me before I go!”
The demon watched the sun crawl across the treetops. It reached the midway point between the Peak of Bailem and Late Bailem before a tiny voice called out from inside the mound. “Have you come to smite me?”
The demon did not look away from a cloud that drifted past. “I mean you no harm! I seek only answers!”
“Just Answers?”
“Yes! Only answers!” She turned her head in the direction of the mound. “Show yourself! There’s no need for us to shout!”
“If I come into the open … what guarantee do I have that you’ll spare my existence?”
Sharvesa smiled. “Not one!”
“Then I choose to stay hidden!”
Sitting up, the demon smirked. “Do you truly believe your pile of dirt will protect you? Show yourself before I bury you within it!”
Defondel’s tiny voice sounded confident. “My kingdom is protected! You have not the power to cause destruction! I am safe in here!”
“Ha! Your miserable mound is not a kingdom! It’s an ant farm.”
Sharvesa looked at the terrain surrounding the pile. Despite her irritation, she had to admit that the king’s home was well maintained. Miniature fields extended away from the mound and spread throughout the base of the trees. Each field had been worked and planted like farmland. And though these areas of cultivated earth were miniscule in size to her, she knew that to Defondel’s kind they had to feel as if they stretched forever.
When a response never came, the goddess softened her tone. “I swear it … I haven’t come to inflict harm. I only want to speak with you about our son. I seek his location.”
Defondel poked his tiny head out of one of the holes near the bottom of the mound. His face was still young, though his beard and short hair were gray. “Many Peaks have passed since you sent Payne to Luvelles. You cared not for him then, so why seek him now?”
“Circumstances have changed.”
Defondel stepped out of the hole. Almost as if it had been planned, the clouds passing overhead opened up, and a ray of sunshine found its way through the trees to light his form. He was wearing a small suit of armor that allowed his wings to flutter in the back.
The Fairy King replied, “How have they changed? Does not the demon council still exist?”
“It does.”
“Then why bother? Payne cannot return with you … so why torment his young mind?”
Sharvesa lowered from the tree and took a seat on the ground. Defondel took a step back toward the mound as the demon crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I simply want to look upon him,” she sighed.
“Just look?” Defondel crossed his arms. “And nothing more?”
“Yes … nothing more.”
The Fairy King studied Sharvesa’s face for deception. “Payne is happy. Do you swear to the gods that you won’t destroy his happiness?”
“I swear,” she nodded.
Flapping his wings, Defondel lifted off the ground and hovered eye-level with the demon while still maintaining his distance. “If I tell you, will you promise to never return? Will you leave in peace?”
Again, the demon nodded. “I will.”
Defondel held Sharvesa’s gaze for a long while. “When last I heard, Payne had found happiness with a family of humans.”
“Humans?” Sharvesa sneered. “Why would you allow that?”
“I allowed nothing. Payne’s magic was too strong. I couldn’t control him. I was forced to send him into exile.”
“Exile?” the demon shouted. “First you rape me, and then you banish our son?”
Defondel lifted his right hand above his head and whistled. Thousands of fairies began to pour out of the holes in the mound and the treetops became alive as the sounds of their fluttering wings filled the air. They surrounded the demon-goddess and prepared for the worst.
Sharvesa laughed. “How brave of you, Defondel. But your threat is unnecessary and pointless.”
Angered by the demon’s response, Defondel snapped his fingers. “Now!” he ordered.
The air surrounding the goddess filled with thousands upon thousands of specks of light as the fairies unleashed miniature bolts of lightning that arced in her direction. Closing her eyes, Sharvesa absorbed the magic. Wave after wave, the fairies attacked. When the lightning bolts did not work, they hurled bolts of ice. And when the ice did not work, they sent tiny waves of force barreling into her.
With the final attack absorbed, the goddess opened her eyes and extended her right hand toward the Fairy King. Defondel protested as Sharvesa used her magic against him. The fairy army watched in horror as their king floated to Sharvesa and settled into her open palm.
With her fingers closed around his legs to avoid damaging his wings, the goddess spoke. “What is the name of the man who heads this family of humans? Speak now, and I’ll release you.”
The Tear of Gramal Page 23
