by Aaron Yeager
“That’s true,” Dr. Griffin said, scratching his chin. “If she still has one in her, then it would have interfered with the Umbra Kallah.”
“They do seem like the same kind of magic to me,” Ryin observed.
“Actually, they are opposing,” Dr. Griffin said. “One designed to modify and the other to replace, so they would naturally resist each other. Maybe you’re right, Athel. Maybe part of our Spirea did survive in there somewhere, thanks to the little worm-thingy.”
Dr. Griffin spun around and started rummaging around in his medical satchel. After tossing out a couple of half-eaten pieces of food, he produced the beaker with the necklace and Afet in it. Giddily, he placed Spirea’s hand against the surface of the beaker and was elated to see small beads swell and jump underneath her skin.
“Eureka!” he shouted, pulling the beaker away. “Privet, didn’t you say that the necklace controls the Afet?”
“That’s what he told me,” he said, lowering the crossbow.
“Then if we configure the necklace to restore the Spirea we know, the Afet inside of her will work to do just that.”
“Great, but how do we change the commands of a Hoeun Achete necklace?” Athel asked.
“Simple,” Privet said with a grin. “I just happen to know where a Beastmaster is currently employed not far from here.”
* * *
Tigera Hissledorf sneezed again. Normally a sneeze is not something that would have caused him alarm, but this was the third time in less than an hour and that was more than enough of a pattern to normally make him flee. But this time was different, this time he really needed the money.
“Hey, you okay man?” asked his dog-faced partner Murphi as he groomed the stallion’s back with a coarse horse brush. “You allergic or something?”
“No,” Tigera said, wiping his nose and looking around, “Hoeunites don’t have allergies. The only time we sneeze is when there’s danger approaching.”
“I thought that your goatee tickled when danger was approaching?”
“That too,” Tigera confirmed, peeking out of one of the stable windows to the beautiful ivy-covered estate cavern around them.
“Also when your trick knee acts up and your eyebrow twitches and your...”
“All right, yes, that’s enough,” Tigera said, waving his arms around. “We are a just a very cautious people is all.”
Tigera touched the golden-tooth necklace he was wearing and two sparrows flew in, one landing on each of his shoulders. He whispered to them for a few moments and then seemed to relax as they fluttered off.
The Y’darni stallion shook its head and whinnied hungrily as Murphi brushed it.
“Ah, you wish to be fed, eh? Well, my friend, first you must show me that you deserve it,” Tigera said smoothly.
The stallion paused for a moment in frustration, then stomped its hoof three times and bent down on one knee in imitation of a formal Thesdan greeting.
“Oh, that is such excellent work,” came a familiar voice from the entrance to the stables.
“Ah, my Wysterian man-friend,” Tigera greeted with open arms as he walked toward Privet. “How are you? I thought never to see you again. How did you get in here? This nobleman’s estate is heavily guarded, no?”
“I used the unguarded northwest windows from the cliffs outside like you said,” Privet answered as they clasped each other on the shoulders.
“Always know the escape route, eh? Like I taught you? Very good,” Tigera praised. “So, what brings you here?”
“Actually, I brought a commission for you.”
“Really? A commission? That is wonderful.”
Athel cleared her throat and stepped into the doorway.
“My angel!” Tigera gushed, expecting a docile and servile creature to kneel at his feet. Instead, Athel folded her arms and gave him a defiant stare that could stop a raging bull.
“No,” Tigera said, backing up, “that is not wonderful. In fact, it is very bad. Murphi, grab our things, it’s time to go.”
“Calm down,” Athel said, tossing him a bag. “I’m not here to kill you. Not yet, anyway.”
“Is she joking?” Tigera asked Privet, jiggling the coins in the bag.
“Forsythians never kid about death,” Privet reassured. “At least, most of them don’t. Athel is kind of an aberration in many regar—”
Privet was silenced by Athel’s boot stomping down on his toes, causing him to hunker down in pain. Tigera pulled out a shiny coin and examined it.
“Wysterian gold,” he praised. “Very nice, but not of much value now that she has seceded from the league and all.”
“Then give me a discount,” Athel said, putting her hands on her hips, “for trying to turn me into a maid. I think you owe me that much.”
Tigera looked down and saw tangles of thorned vines near his feet, poised to strike like vipers. “Yes, that sounds awfully reasonable,” he said, looking her over anew. “You took the Afet out, didn’t you? That is a shame.”
“Yes, but there’s still one in my friend, and only you can change it to do what we want.”
An hour later, Tigera and Murphi were brought to the small, dark hotel room where Spirea was being kept. He listened with wide eyes as Dr. Griffin explained as best he could the kind of curse that had been placed on Spirea and what they wanted him to do.
Tigera cut the leather strand and allowed the necklace to fall apart on the table before him. Carefully, he took each golden tooth and held it over a point on Spirea’s body and recited an incantation, then threaded the tooth back onto the cord and grabbed the next one.
“So, she really made a costume and wore it?” Tigera asked Privet slyly.
“Yeah,” Privet confirmed, looking a little dreamy eyed. “I didn’t even recognize her at first.”
“Let’s stay focused,” Athel suggested. “We only have a few more hours until the Dreadnaught arrives.”
Tigera began sweating as he threaded the final pieces and tied the necklace together. There was a snap of energy and he pronounced the spell complete.
“Is it going to give us our Spirea back?” Athel asked apprehensively.
“Yes, I believe so,” Tigera judged, “but it is going to take some time. You will need someone to watch over her and make adjustments to the spell as it progresses. These things need constant fine-tuning.”
“You just want more money, you little thief,” Privet said, slugging him on the arm.
“No...well, yes, but it is true that I will need to watch over her. Mostly, I just want to get off this island. I’ve been sneezing a lot, and being around your little princess makes me very nervous.”
“Well, I admit, she can be a handful at times, but I don’t think you need to be afraid of her.”
“Not because of her, because of my old boss. I hear she’s been looking for your princess, and she’s scary as a demon when she goes after what she wants.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Privet said dismissively. “I mean, we’re all wanted fugitives, so we’re certainly not going to turn you in, and I doubt your Hazari friend here would do anything.”
Privet and Tigera laughed, but Murphi remained hushed and that made a nervous silence fall over the room.
“Murphi,” Tigera asked, “of course I can trust you, right?”
“Sorry, man, but that’s a lot of money we’re talking about.”
Before anyone could react, Murphi released a bolt of lightning that zigzagged around the room, creating a tremendous noise.
* * *
When Athel finally awoke, it was to a throbbing headache only worsened by roaring noises of falling water. The cold touch of metal was against her cheek and there was a terrible spiritual silence.
Athel propped herself up on one elbow and saw that she was in a metal barred cage, hanging from a chain that ascended far up into the darkness above. The room itself seemed to be a cave, but it felt to her like nothing. The walls carried no voice of root or moss in them, not
even distantly, and although the cave was illuminated, there was no obvious source for the light. No torches or windows, just a mist that grew gradually darker the farther away one looked.
Her cage hung in the center of a large stone outcropping. A stream of water was underneath her, which cascaded at one end over the edge, falling hundreds of feet down to a larger, deeper pool far below. Toward the cave walls away from the cliff edge hung two more cages of similar build. In one Ryin, Privet, Alder and Margaret stirred, and Spirea still lay unconscious with them. In the other cage were the Captain, Mina, Tigera, and Dr. Griffin, who were looking around for answers as well.
The dark waters near Athel stirred, then fell down in a funnel of water, through which the dog-faced Hazari Murphi ascended carrying several carved stones.
“No, I have to hear it from my own ears,” came an avian voice from a message crystal resting on top of the carved stones. “Tell me how our top cabalist was held captive for a week by a five-year-old girl.”
“Just drop it, Marc,” their captor growled.
“How can I drop it? It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Okay, so tell me, why didn’t you just become a mouse and slip out of the shackle?”
“Because a cat is as small as I can go, okay?”
The sound of Marc’s hooting laughter echoed around the room. Their captor smashed the crystal with a strong paw and threw the shards onto the ground. “Oh poo,” he sighed, noticing them stirring in their cages. “You aren’t supposed to be awake. I’m not ready here just yet.”
“How could you do this to me, Murphi?” Tigera yelled out, his fists clenched. “You are supposed to be better than them. You carry the blood of the noble and loyal canine within you.”
“I’m afraid your Mr. Murphi has been dead since he brought you to me,” their captor explained, the flesh and hair sloughing off of his frame, to reveal a skeleton of coal-black bones. The sinews and tissues then reknit themselves into a beautiful young woman, and she began placing the stones around the perimeter of Athel’s cage.
“Just what are you?” Ryin asked in disgust.
The young woman grunted and rolled her eyes. “Why do you people always want to talk? I'd give anything for some mute captives just once.”
Mina wasted no words and summoned a blade of sonic energy that sliced through the cave at the woman, but it weakened and dissipated before it ever reached her, only succeeding in rattling Athel’s cage.
“You see?” Mandi said, pointing an accusing finger as she placed the last stone. “What would be the point of introducing myself if you were just going to blast me anyway?”
“There’s something wrong with the air in here,” Margaret announced, holding her hands out. “It’s like it’s not real.”
“If it’s not real then what are we breathing?” Ryin quipped.
“No, she’s right,” Athel confirmed, looking around. “I think this whole place is...artificial somehow.”
The water pond funneled again and Ms. Recaldier was raised up, holding more of the carved stones. “Here you are, Miss Mandi,” she said dispassionately.
“Don't worry everyone,” Dr. Griffin cackled maniacally. “I got this.” He pulled out a small doll made out of what appeared to be discarded hair. Holding his hands above and below the doll, it levitated in the air and emitted a shrill.
As Mandi set down the new stones, Ms. Recaldier grabbed the sides of her head in pain, struggling against Dr. Griffin’s control. After a second her eyes became dull and she drew out a small dagger.
Recaldier leapt on Mandi’s back, knocking her into the stream. The two thrashed around for a moment until Mandi came up on all fours gasping for air with Ms. Recaldier clinging to her back, pressing a knife to her throat.
Dr. Griffin laughed triumphantly with wild eyes. “You were a fool to underestimate me. She’s still under the influence of my spell. There’s nothing you can do or say that will break my hold over her now.”
Mandi rolled her eyes and spit some of the water out of her mouth.
“Hey, missy. The guy who’s controlling you...he put a slug in his mouth once.”
Ms. Recaldier twitched, and the knife fell out of her hand. The doll of hair in Dr. Griffin’s hands burst into flames.
“That’s the most disgusting, retched, foul, nasty thing I’ve ever heard,” Recaldier snapped, wiping her mouth and spitting as if to remove the taste.
Mandi stood up and laughed, ringing the water out of her hair. “That was such a cute little control spell. I love it. What do you call it?”
“The...um...unbreakable...puppet,” Dr. Griffin grumbled, embarrassed.
“Take it from a professional,” Mandi said. “If you need a doll made of hair you’re doing it wrong.” Mandi raised her hand flat, fingers extended and Recaldier levitated into the air. As Mandi twitched her fingers Recaldier's limbs flailed wildly, like a marionette.
“How did you know I had put a slug in my mouth?” Dr. Griffin wondered as he pouted in his cage.
“Oh, you don’t really care about that, do you?” she quipped, sending Recaldier back down the funnel to fetch more stones with a flick of the wrist.
“Sure I do, its professional curiosity,” he insisted.
“What are we, colleagues now?” Mandi asked, wringing the water out of her clothes.
“You have us fair and square,” Captain Evere spoke up, looking surprisingly relaxed for a man in a cage. “May I ask you what you plan to do with us?”
“Nothing,” Mandi shrugged.
“N-nothing?” Evere stammered.
“I only came for the princess. She’s my retirement package. Once I leave with her, your cage can go.”
“Well, that’s awfully considerate,” Dr. Griffin praised, before Mina slugged him on the arm.
“Wait, you said their cage can go, what about our cage? Ryin asked, referring to the middle cage that contained himself, Spirea, Alder, Privet and Margaret.
“Oh,” Mandi recalled as she pulled out some chalk and began writing on one of the stones. “After I deliver the princess I’m going to sacrifice you.”
“Well, that’s not nearly as considerate,” Dr. Griffin appraised.
“It’s not a big deal,” Mandi explained as she worked. “My master requires a virgin sacrifice every ten years and I’m about three decades behind; I figure if I catch up and throw in a couple of extra virgins he probably won’t flambé me next time he sees me. You know how these things are.”
Dr. Griffin scratched at the stubble on his chin. “So, do you get paid by the hour or by the soul?”
“What a weird question,” Mina criticized.
Dr. Griffin threw his arms up. “What? I'm just asking.”
“By the soul,” Mandi admitted.
“Ahh, see? Not so stupid after all.”
“I said it was weird, not stupid. But yes, it is stupid.”
Ryin looked around in his cage. “Hey, evil lady, you've got me in the wrong cage.” he protested.
“No I don't,” Mandi corrected.
There was a long pause then Mina began laughing. “Colenat? Y-you’re still a virgin?”
“No I’m not,” Ryin insisted.
“After all that bluster and bragging about salty wenches every time we made port?” Evere said, shaking his head. “It was all just bird squawking.”
“I’m telling you she’s wrong!” Ryin yelled. “Get me out of this cage and put me with the others!”
“It’s always the boastful ones,” Tigera observed.
Mandi slinked over and sniffed at Ryin a couple of times through the bars in the cage. “Definitely virgin,” she appraised. “Just like the sleep-singing princess over there.”
“What do you mean?” Athel asked, offended. “I do not sing in my sleep.”
“Oh, so feisty,” Mandi commended, pinching Athel’s cheek. “Just the way I like ‘em.”
“I don’t sing in my sleep, right guys?” Athel asked the others for confirmation, but they all looked away sh
eepishly.
Ms. Recaldier rose up out of the water funnel again and handed Mandi the rest of the stones.
“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” Ryin whispered to Margaret.
“I can still hear you, you know, whispering won't help” Mandi teased as she set the stones down.
“She needs virgins for the sacrifice, so that means if we’re not virgins, then we’re of no use to her. Well, I think there’s a simple and fun solution to that problem, don’t you?”
Margaret stared at him with widening eyes of fright.
“I think I’d rather just be sacrificed,” she admitted.
Mandi stood up and admired her work, then clapped her hands together thoughtfully. “What should I have for dinner tonight?” she wondered aloud. “I think I’ll treat myself to some sweet potato pie.”
The circle of rocks beneath Athel’s cage began glowing with a dark and dangerous light, the carvings and inscriptions etched into their surface dancing around wildly, spreading into and fouling the water around them.
“If you guys have any good plans, now is the time,” Athel suggested as the black flames circled up slowly toward her.
“This place isn’t real, so our magic doesn’t work right here,” Mina explained.
“This place isn’t real,” Ryin realized, “but I’ll bet these cages are.” He pulled back and punched the lock on his cage, which sprung open in a spray of molten metal.
“Hey, that’s cheating,” Mandi groaned, pulling her hands apart. Her flesh burst apart and reformed around her in the shape of a terrifying gray bear, which leapt toward them
Ryin dropped to the ground and ran for the nearest cage. Margaret tried to stop the beast, but only succeeded in getting swatted out of the way by large claws, her unconscious body rolling to a stop near the edge of the precipice.
Ryin struck the next cage with his palm, melting the lock just as the bear tackled him headlong and slammed him into the wall of the cave.
Evere and the others leapt out of their broken cage and began grabbing whatever was handy to use as a weapon. The bear turned around, Ryin’s unconscious body hanging limply in one of its paws.
“Stand back!” Dr. Griffin warned, “I got a big stick with your name on it!”
