“Yes, Master?” they asked in unison, as they landed in a whoosh of black feathers.
Lugh, from behind the door, looked in awe at the Harpies. They had dark feathered legs, much like those of a hawk or eagle that ended in strong, scaled taloned claws. The lower abdomen was covered in the same glittering black feathers, and a long feathered tail flared behind them. They had no arms, but long, elegant wings which they folded smoothly behind them. Their chests were bare, with gravity-tormented breasts sagging and swaying with the momentum of their landing. Silenus, despite his rather poor circumstance, couldn’t help but stare. Interestingly, their faces were the only unremarkable thing about them. They were so normal. The faces of the Harpies seemed like ordinary human faces, each with a unique mix of flaws and charms. One Harpy had beautiful, dark glittering eyes, yet thin, cruel eyebrows and fat sausage lips. Another was quite beautiful, with sparkling blue eyes, and a luxurious mane of blond curls.
“Take him away. He’s bothering me,” Quillian said after a moment of ogling the Harpies’ naked breasts.
“Where do you propose we take him?” asked Aello, the blond Harpy. “We do not know this place.”
Quillian huffed. “I don’t know!” he squealed in annoyance before taking a deep breath. “Just torment the goat. That’s what you’re good at!”
Aello shook her head and gave a tinkling laugh. Silenus stiffened as he noticed that her second incisor teeth were shaped as canines, making her smile a rather vicious one.
Silenus stepped back. His sharp cloven hoof clapped loudly on the ground. He took another step backward, but this time found his way blocked by the sturdy body of Celaeno, a Harpy with dark wavy hair and a very pretty face.
“My dear Satyr,” she purred into Silenus’s pointed ear, “you didn’t think it would be easy getting away from us, did you?”
In wordless agreement, the other Harpies took flight and swooped around Silenus, scratching him with their talons. They moved too fast in the air for him to escape, and circled like sharks. All Silenus could do was attempt to cover his face from their vicious talons. It didn’t take long before the Harpies tired of this, and one swooped down from above. With amazing strength she snatched a talon-full of Silenus’s hair and started to haul him up into the sky. Silenus yelled angrily, reaching up and grabbing the Harpy’s ankle, trying to relieve the pull on his hair.
Aello laughed gleefully and aimed a slashing claw at his chest as she swooped past. Brilliant red blood spurted from the gash on his chest and spattered onto the ground like rain. Silenus groaned in pain as the attack continued. He kicked futilely at the diving Harpies, to no avail. Suddenly, and much to Lugh’s dismay, Eloise, the heavily pregnant Maenad, burst out from the Satyr colony town house screaming at the top of her lungs. “Silenus! No!” she shrieked and waddled as fast as her burdened body could manage. “Let him go! Let him go! He hasn’t done anything!”
The Harpies paused in their games and stared down with bird-like curiosity at the hysterical woman. An evil glint grew in Ocypete’s eyes. As Eloise reached up to grab at Silenus’s legs, Ocypete swooped down and kicked out at Eloise’s bloated belly.
With a wail of pain Eloise fell backward. Almost in slow motion, Lugh saw the woman falling onto the hard pavement. It was too much for him to bear. Without even thinking, he burst through the door and rushed to her aid.
The air was filled with dust as Lugh knelt down beside the groaning pregnant woman and turned her face to his.
“Are you all right?” he asked, not even noticing the Harpies around him.
Quillian’s face lit with sudden glee.
“How fortuitous!” he exclaimed, staring in wide-eyed delight at the open door. “I don’t think we should dally! Inside, girls! Follow me!”
Without further delay, Quillian and the four Harpies entered Omar’s safe haven.
At this point Lugh looked up. He let out a long groan of dismay as the evil magician and Harpies disappeared into the house. Lugh knelt still for a moment, shocked to immobility by his own actions. Why had he done that? He was a Tuatha warrior! He didn’t feel anything for these piddling mortals! Did he?
Again he looked down at the injured and pregnant Maenad. His face hardened. The stupid, stupid woman.
Silenus, who had been unceremoniously dropped from several meters high, dragged his body toward Eloise.
“Are you all right?” Silenus ran his hands through her hair.
Eloise groaned in pain.
“Is the baby okay?” His voice trembled slightly.
“I don’t know. I think I’m in labor,” she groaned. “You’ll have to get me back into the colony. I need Megan.”
Lugh looked at Silenus. One of the Satyr’s legs was twisted at an awkward angle behind him. It was obviously broken. Eloise groaned again.
“Oh, for the love of all that is sacred!” Lugh snarled, frustrated and angry that his instinctual reaction to assist the Maenad betrayed his master to Quillian. “Get up, will you!”
Silenus struggled ineffectually to stand.
Growling in frustration, realizing both Maenad and the Satyr were completely incapacitated, Lugh helped Silenus to stand. His massive hand bit into Silenus’s bicep as he hauled the Satyr up onto one hoof. Silenus remained tight-lipped with irritation and pain. With his other hand Lugh pulled Eloise to stand. She whimpered, and Lugh was filled with irrational annoyance at her weakness. Tuatha women could give birth while plowing the fields! he thought derisively. Throwing one last regretful glance at Omar’s building, Lugh said a prayer that Omar and Phil would be safe and then dragged Silenus and the injured Maenad back to the Satyr colony. He’d help Omar in a minute.
Omar sensed something was dreadfully wrong when he heard laughter and movement in the hallway.
“Lugh?” Omar called, but there was no answer. Panic tore over Omar’s face with the speed and force of a jet-car. “Someone is in this house,” he said with a wheeze. “I think it may be pertinent to retreat into the bolt-hole.”
Primrose’s face paled and she drew close to Imran.
“Are you certain?” Imran asked, his arm wrapping around Primrose.
“I felt the door open and I can sense…four…no...five entities have entered the building. Quickly!”
Primrose clutched at her handbag. She needed no further urging. Hurriedly they followed Omar into the living room through the winding mess of corridors.
“The labyrinthine spell should keep them comfortably lost for a few minutes at any rate,” Omar said as he murmured some spell to open the fireplace and enable entry to the bolt-hole.
Primrose stared at the fireplace. The flickering flame of the fire remained the same, but the entire fireplace and mantel swung open. It was an illusion. There was no fireplace. It was actually a small door. Omar got on his knees and scurried through. Primrose followed closely, then Imran, and last Phil.
“Why do you not let me fight him, Master?” Phil asked when they were inside the bolt-hole.
“If he has bested Lugh, then I don’t think you would hold much force, old friend.” Omar sealed the door shut behind them. Phil’s twisted human face showed plainly he was not impressed by the answer.
Primrose looked around the room. It was surprisingly quite spacious. The three walls around them were decorated with some abstract paintings, and a large lurid orange couch sat against the far wall. The most interesting feature of the room was that the front wall, through which they just passed, was completely transparent. It was like looking through glass.
“I am deeply impressed!” Imran said appreciatively, running a tanned hand over the smooth, cold surface.
“Yes, I am rather proud. It is quite undetectable.” Omar beamed.
“I would never have known,” Imran added. “Is there a way out?”
“There is no physical exit, but you can get
out through magical means.” Omar’s brow creased with concern. “I do hope Lugh is all right. His mother would never forgive me.”
“His mother?” Primrose asked, surprised. “It’s hard to imagine someone like Lugh having a family.”
“There is a whole clan of Tuatha De Danaan in the Free Zone.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Phil assured them. “It would take a lot to knock Lugh down.”
Omar said nothing but his hands clutched tightly around a small brown lamp.
All four fell into a silence.
Primrose stared at the brown lamp with interest. “Is that your…your lamp? I didn’t see you grab it.”
Like a child snatching a toy, Omar hid the lamp behind his back. “You weren’t supposed to.” Omar snapped, and from behind him, Primrose saw a telltale waft of red smoke. Omar moved his hands to his front.
“Gone now.” He smiled, relief smoothing the lines of worry on his face. However, Primrose could plainly see a small brown vase materialized beside the couch with a yellow rose.
Imran smirked.
“Should we think about getting out of here?” Primrose finally asked just to break the silence.
“Where is there to go?” Omar asked. “Quillian is hunting for Genies. He will eventually find us, wherever we are.” He had a decidedly defeatist attitude and Primrose felt irked by it.
“Actually, I have an idea.” Imran interrupted the morbid musings. “Quillian is using a lot of the Genies’ power. All this moving about and transporting Harpies will be at a great magical cost. He will have to weaken soon. If we wait here long enough, giving him tantalizing morsels of information about our whereabouts, we may just be able to ambush him when he is low on power.”
“He might have brought the vessel with him,” Primrose said. “He might be able to recharge his power at any time.”
“No, I don’t think so. The weight of the vessel would be incredible, and besides, he is still draining all those lamps. If he were to take the vessel away and stop the draining, the remaining Genies might become more powerful and could possibly escape.”
They all paused for a moment, hoping this might be true.
“Having said that,” Imran added, “I think Quillian is a powerful magician in his own right, and even if he is low on power, he will still be a force to be reckoned with.”
Again their eyes wandered to the see-through wall. Not a soul rustled in the living room.
“I wonder how he is getting through the labyrinth of hallways,” Primrose mused.
“I can sense he is almost in the living room,” Omar answered sullenly, throwing a worried glance at his ill-disguised lamp.
They stood staring at the wall when the door burst open.
“Finally!” Quillian practically squealed with excitement. He strolled into the room, like a king into his throne room. Primrose was taken aback once again by how normal he looked. As she stared at him, the first of the Harpies entered the room. On foot, or claw, they moved just like sparrows, with a little step-hop. It was a rather comical mode of movement. Primrose watched as Ocypete, with her collagen-enhanced-looking lips, hopped into the room. Ocypete shook her head, flicking her long, wavy brown hair from her face. Her head tilted in that bird-like fashion and she eyed the room.
“Ocypete! Move! We’re all trapped in this godforsaken hallway!” Aello barked.
Ocypete looked deeply irritated but hopped out of the way. Suddenly Omar’s living room was filled with dark glittering feathers and sagging breasts. Quillian inhaled sharply. “They are here somewhere. Magically hidden, I suspect.”
The Harpies looked unconvinced.
“I can only see one door to the right, and I imagine that will be more hallways,” Ocypete said. “I think you are wasting our time, Quillian.”
Quillian looked offended. “Ocypete, my sweet! I would never dream!” He strode over to her, cupped a wilting breast, and caressed it lightly with his thumb. Primrose could see Ocypete’s nostrils flare and her eyes fall to half-mast.
“Please. I will make it worth your while,” Quillian said to the Harpy, kissing her lightly on the neck.
Imran’s lip curled in distaste.
“How revolting,” Omar hissed.
As he spoke, Quillian’s head jerked up.
“Did you hear something?” he asked his Harpies.
“No,” they all replied, cocking their heads.
“Check that door,” Quillian snapped.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Omar. “Tallathalla!”
It was true. In their haste they had forgotten all about the Magical Construct.
Quillian was still, listening intently.
The Harpies hopped over to the door muttering irritably. One aimed a sharp kick at the door, and it burst open. If Primrose craned her neck, she could just see Tallathalla sitting motionless on a small bed in the room.
“A woman!” screamed a Harpy in surprise.
Quillian launched toward the room, confused as he saw Tallathalla’s long blond hair, and vacant stare.
“That is not Primrose,” he barked and walked over to Tallathalla. Primrose flinched as he aimed a slap at her empty face. Even through the magical wall, Imran could hear the sound of the slap resounding. Omar winced with guilt.
Quillian looked at the woman. She did not recoil, or make a sound. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her to her feet. Tallathalla stood up, still expressionless and vacant. All was silent, except for the sound of breathing.
“Come into the living room!” Quillian yelled at everyone. The small bedroom was far too cramped.
Tallathalla blinked and walked wordlessly into the living room and stood motionless when directly in the center.
“What is wrong with her?” asked Aello, the blond Harpy.
“I don’t know,” Quillian replied, “but I do intend to find out.”
Again he aimed a sharp slap. Again the sound echoed around the room.
Tallathalla remained unmoved, although a swelling was beginning to balloon on her face.
“Hmmm,” Quillian mused and ripped the filmy blouse from her torso. Tallathalla did not react.
“Can you speak?” he asked, pressing his face close to her ear.
“Yes,” came her crystal-clear response.
Ocypete’s eyes widened.
“Did I hurt you?” Quillian’s face was still pressed close to her.
“Yes,” she replied, but without a flicker of emotion.
“What is your name?” He took a step back and eyed her with renewed interest.
“Tallathalla,” she replied without even moving.
“Pretty…” Quillian whispered to himself. “What are you, Tallathalla?”
“A Magical Construct,” she replied blankly.
Quillian perforated the air with a round of tight hiccupping laughs. “Oh, Omar, you must have been lonely!”
The Harpies looked a little uncomfortable.
“Tell me, Tallathalla, where is your master now?”
Primrose’s heart lurched.
Tallathalla’s pale, perfect hand rose and pointed to the wall, behind which Primrose, Imran, Omar, and Phil hid.
“In there,” she said.
“The wall?” Quillian asked. “Really?”
“Yes,” Tallathalla confirmed.
Quillian walked up to the wall and pressed his hand against it. It felt normal and the flames in the fireplace flickered merry and warm, despite the oppressive tropical heat. Frowning, Quillian pressed his nose on the wall and sniffed. The occupants of the bolt-hole got a good view of his nasal hair.
“They are in there,” he breathed in amazement. “How did they do that?” He wondered for a moment, and then turned to face Tallathalla again.
“We’ve got to get
out of here!” Omar whispered furiously, retreating to the corner of the bolt-hole where his lamp resided. Primrose clutched at her handbag, and looked worriedly at Imran.
“Does Tallathalla know how to get in here?”
“I don’t know,” Omar groaned, “but it is only a small amount of time before―”
They didn’t get to hear his next words. The door burst open and Quillian sprang in with a whoosh of bitter, burning power. He looked gleefully at the stunned occupants of the room. Mid-laugh, he threw a bolt of his power at Omar, and it knocked him to the floor momentarily incapacitated.
Imran threw a protective wall of black smoke between Quillian and himself, Primrose, and Phil.
Quillian’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t escape! The moment you move that wall to disappear, I’ll have one of you.”
The Harpies hopped into the room behind Quillian, their eyes shining with excitement. Seeing that Imran and Primrose were safe behind the smoke shield, Quillian threw another bolt of power directly at Omar. The poisonous fumes of his power were suffocating even to the Harpies, who coughed and edged backward.
Omar groaned in pain as the bolt struck him on the side of his face, leaving a seared burn bubbling beneath his skin.
Imran flinched.
“Now, where is your lamp, oh little wounded Genie?” Quillian asked carnivorously, his eyes locking on Omar. In truth, Omar’s lamp was wedged between his shoulder blades, still in its vase form. The position would have been particularly painful, but Omar dared not move.
“It’s far from here!” Omar snarled.
Quillian seemed to believe him.
“That’s a shame,” he said, throwing a warning glance toward Imran and Primrose, who were still motionless behind Imran’s smoky wall. “You’ll just have to get it for me.” He smiled, and threw another bolt of power at Omar’s face. This time Omar moved to the right and the power hit the couch and singed it.
“You’ve got to stop him, Imran!” Primrose pleaded.
Magical Gains Page 19
