“Why aren't the lights going out anymore?” Crispin asked aloud. He pointed at a small cluster of lumir crystals on the wall. They glowed a soft pink even after the thief had passed them.
Confound it. He must have gotten rid of the crystals or given them to the mender. Thing wanted to punch something. He should have checked both men with his mage sight or at the very least his infrared sight, but he hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to tango with that disembodied demon again.
“Do we keep following him?” Crispin asked.
I don’t know. Thing flew right over the man, so close, his feet almost grazed the man's hood. But he felt nothing. The bag wasn't cold to his infrared sight, nor to his mage sight. Was it emptier now? Or had the dark, hungry presence inside it escaped?
From above, it looked just as full as before, but it couldn’t be unless the light-stealing power of those shards had dissipated somehow or been nullified. Either was likely with magic.
Thing flapped silently for the ceiling. Somehow, he'd missed something, and that vexed him. He steeled himself for what he might find and dove into the hooded man’s mind.
No dark presence challenged him. But Thing found something he didn’t expect and fled from it. Oh, my Creator, no.
“What did you see?”
Thing didn’t answer. He couldn’t because he had no idea what he’d seen meant.
“Does he know where the shards are?” Crispin asked.
They’re still in the bag, but they're drained now. The darkness is gone. Thing pulled out of the gray-robed man's mind.
Who did he give it to? Crispin shadowed him.
Thing sighed. The mender. This mystery just kept twisting and turning every time he got so much as a toehold on it.
“Then why aren’t we following him?” Crispin back winged to slow his pace.
Because Thing had seen a familiar face in the thief’s mind. Was that person part of this? He must find out because that person knew about his family and could track them.
Crispin switched to mind-speech. Dad? Why won’t you tell me what you saw?
You’ll see soon enough, son. Unless I’m wrong. Please, Creator Spirit, let me be wrong. Thing had never wanted so badly for his magic to have screwed up somewhere and shown him something from his mind instead of the one he’d touched. But magic didn’t lie. Only humans did.
Chapter Eleven
Any moment now, her mate would fly in and put a mental whammy on the creature that had possessed Nulthir. Amal kept one eye on the door as she dove out of the way. Bloody steel claws extruded from the swollen fists of the creature that had been her friend, and he raked them across the stone floor, just missing her flight feathers. They left a red trail behind as the demon-possessing her dearest friend slashed at her again.
Oh, your poor fingers. Amal’s hands tightened into fists at the blood dripping off his hands. She backed away until sunlight singed her blackened wing, making it smoke and stink. So far that was all it was doing. May that stalemate continue because they could barely fight one demon. Two would destroy them.
Another well-placed slash splintered the chair she’d backed under. Amal darted out from under it while Nulthir tried to shake off the remnants of that chair. It was caught in his six-inch claws. Joints popped as the demon reconfigured its new body into a more muscular shape. Muscles bulged along his neck and shoulders splitting the seams of Nulthir’s uniform tunic.
“Will anything be left of him when we oust that demon?” Thistle backed away from the grotesque sight.
“Our friend will be left.” Dale leaped off a shelf above the bed and grabbed hold of the silver spikes extruding from the creature's back.
“He’s right. Where there’s magic, there’s a way. We’ll find a way to free him.” Mixie ran past on all fours. Her slanted eyes were fixed on the mirror and the fuzzy shapes reflected in it.
Of course, the reveal all spell was still active, but how could they use that to their advantage? Amal circled the creature. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. He’s been hurt enough by this creature.” Dale climbed the spikes until he could wrap his tail around the creature's bulging neck in a modified submission hold. Nulthir still wore the dawn rune. Its glow had died out, but the leather thong it hung on cut into the creature’s neck as Dale pulled on it, choking him.
Something about the dawn rune niggled at Amal. There was something she was forgetting about the metal it was made of. She cast that thought aside and dodged the kick aimed at her flank as the creature slammed into the stone wall.
At the last moment, Dale swung away from those spikes, but he lost his grip and struck the wall. He flailed about for a handhold as his tail slipped free. Dale dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, nearly crashing into her. Amal dodged just in time. Ground fighting wasn’t her forte. Neither was it Dale’s.
“Over here, you big oaf,” Mixie called as she jumped up and down on the dresser inches from the mirror. Maybe the reveal all spell would show them a way to defeat it.
Amal checked the door again. It was still closed. Where the hell was Thing? She sent another mental call for help. Come on, you stubborn owl. Quit chasing shadows and help me!
No answer. Why wasn’t His Orneriness answering? What was Thing doing? Amal reached out for her son’s mind, but Crispin was too far away, and his attention was fully engaged with whatever he and his father were doing. She was on her own. Damn them both.
Thing’s plan had probably blown up in his beak like she’d predicted. He probably needed rescuing. Well, she’d worry about that later. She had larger problems right now. Amal darted right to avoid another kick then left to get out of her adopted son’s way.
“Sorry!” Yarn jumped, and the fist aiming for his back missed. He caught hold of a drawer and quickly scaled the dresser to his mate, standing on top of it.
“Follow me. I have an idea,” Mixie told him as they both leaped out of the way of the fist flying toward them. It struck the wooden top, impaling his claws in the hard Shayarin oak. Mixie caught the top of the trifold mirror with her claws and climbed onto the narrow ledge along its top.
Yarn landed in a sock drawer and scampered back onto the dresser. “You want him to look in the mirror, right?”
“Yes.” Mixie reached down and adjusted the panels so they reflected the inhuman creature who was trying to free his claws.
Yarn dodged another swipe and the demon drove the claws of his other hand into the wood, pinning him just inches from the mirror. “Look at what you’re doing to him.” Yarn sat on the creature's trapped hands, adding his weight to it.
The demon froze when his reflection doubled and split revealing the demon’s true face and their friend’s horror-stricken one. There were two beings in the glass—one a human man of early twenties and one a demonic creature with fangs. Their physical body blurred and doubled as they writhed.
“It's working!” Mixie crowed.
“Is it enough to split them?” Thistle asked from somewhere behind them.
“I don't know.” Nor did Amal know what to do next. Nulthir was the warlock, not her. This was beyond her ken.
With a pop and a hiss and a bright flash, Furball appeared mid-air between Nulthir and the mirror. “Neep!” Furball yelled as he plummeted.
“No!” Mixie wrapped her tail around a hook above the mirror and swung down to catch her baby, but Furball dodged her reaching hands. She just missed him by a hair. “No! Someone catch him! Furball can’t fly yet.”
Yarn leaped after his son, but an open-handed slap sent him flying in the wrong direction. Uh-oh. The creature’s claws had faded into a gray mist, leaving Nulthir’s human hands behind, and they were unfettered. Yarn whipped his tail around, turning him cat-quick mid-air, so he landed on his hands and feet only a little stunned from the hit.
Amal rushed forward, but she was too late. At the last second, a large, bloody hand shot out and caught the kit. The same hand that hit Yarn, but the claws were gon
e.
Furball landed on Nulthir’s hand and stamped his tiny fur-hidden foot. Want my friend back! You go away now and give him back. Furball broadcasted to every mind in the room.
Amal could have hugged him for his bravery after she smacked him upside the head for putting himself in danger like that. But she made no move to do either. Everyone froze as demonic laughter filled their minds. But Nulthir wasn't laughing. There was some sense in his black-on-black eyes. Maybe Furball had gotten through to him.
Help us fight the demon, Amal sent to him. You know a hell of a lot of spells. There must be one that will drive that creature out.
Nulthir looked at the window behind Amal where the sunlight streamed in clean and bright. The demon was still laughing in their minds, unaware of what was passing between them or that it had lost control over Nulthir’s body.
“No, not the window! Don’t!” Amal whirled, but she was too late. Nulthir stepped right over her. She wrapped her arms around his leg to stop him. Thing would never forgive her if she let him die, and he would die if he went out that window. It was a thousand-foot drop onto sharp rocks.
“Neep!” Furball shouted then he vanished in a flash of light.
Nulthir didn't stop when the sunlight shafted down on him, causing the dark magic to burn. He barreled toward the window as the demon screamed in all their minds. Amal covered her ears, but that horrible sound almost deafened her.
Where are you, Thing? This is a horrible time for you to pursue your own mission. Amal had a feeling that’s what her mate was doing.
“Stop! Find another way.” Dale rushed in front of Nulthir, his hands raised, and wings spread. Nulthir stepped over him. He was just a few feet from the slit window now.
Three things happened at once. A tongue of light leaped up from the windowsill, and Furball appeared. His tiny black hands held out in a stop. Runes ignited around the window as the spell Nulthir had put there activated, and their dearest friend charged right into it. Light exploded, knocking Amal senseless as the world went white.
Chapter Twelve
Iraine’s world narrowed to the silver leaf glowing on her palm. Essie’s voice was a soft whisper in her ear, but her words flew right passed Iraine. Only that leaf was important. White light spilled out of it, garbing Iraine in pure light. Then she was walking. Where, she didn’t know or care.
Iraine only had eyes for that leaf cupped in her hands. Light flowed through its veins, sketching the proud trunk and regal crown of the Queen of All Trees, protector of Shayari’s hundred valleys and enchanted forestry. Her luminous branches beckoned to Iraine.
“What would you wish of me, Lady of the Woods?” Iraine steadied her trembling hands.
But it was Essie’s voice whispering in her ear, not the Queen of All Trees’, “The Lady bids you to deliver this.”
“To whom?” Iraine turned a bend blindly, following no course she’d set.
On her palm, the leaf multiplied. Where there was one, now there were two, and they both shone whitely against her brown hands. Iraine didn't see the tunnels she trod or their residents. There was only the expanding silver glow from two leaves. As that light encompassed her, she divided.
Part of Iraine strode through the corridors of Mount Eredren, heading toward whomever the Queen of All Trees wanted her to deliver this treasure to. Meanwhile, another part of her stepped through the light she carried into a glade where an incalculably tall tree with silver bark stood.
Light chased itself up her bark to the lowest level of branches, extending out from her majestic trunk like a skirt. The Queen of All Trees' star-shaped leaves glowed a soft silver that filled the eyes with wonder and suffused the heart with love. She was so tall, looking up at her distant crown gave Iraine a crick in her neck, but she couldn’t look away, not from Shayari’s fabled Queen. Only those she favored ever saw her, the most enchanted of all trees.
So why am I seeing her? Iraine couldn’t help but wonder. Distantly, she was aware of her body. It was climbing a set of winding stairs and still doggedly pursuing the Queen’s command. What had that been? Whatever it was, it wasn't important. Not now, when she was standing before her Queen in spirit if not in reality.
Curtseying was out because she was wearing trousers. Still, she should make some sort of obeisance. Iraine wracked her brain for the correct forms and found nothing there. She wasn't a noblewoman and didn’t have the foggiest clue how to pay her respects. Then again, maybe she didn’t have to. After all, she was the one summoned.
“My Queen, what do you wish of me?” Iraine settled for bowing her head. She didn't bend her knees to anyone except her God, and this ancient tree brimming with magic wasn’t Him.
“Be my eyes, so I might see under the mountain where you dwell. Be my ears, so I might hear what the denizens of your mountain home whisper in the dark. Be my hands, help those in need. Be my mouth, speak the good news you hold in your heart.” A glowing branch tapped Iraine’s chest then the Queen of All Trees continued in a clear voice, even though she had no mouth or eyes or ears.
No trees did. But the Queen of All Trees had powerful magic, and through it, she could see, hear and know all she needed to except when it came to the doings under the mountain it seemed. “Be my shield, protect the citizens under the mountain as you’ve sworn to do. Be my sword, cut down evil wherever you find it. But above all, believe. Do these things for me and together, we’ll hold the darkness at bay a little longer.”
Each request hit Iraine like a sack of bricks. Her shock was so great, by the last one, she’d dropped to her knees in the silver leaves reflecting the Queen of All Trees’ glory. But she was more than a tree. The spirit of a battle-tested Queen resided in that silver-chased bark.
“Will you do this for me?”
Iraine couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded. Nothing the Queen of All Trees had asked of her conflicted with her religion, and her heart ached to do all of this. This compact was what she’d craved.
But a nod wasn’t enough. The Queen of All Trees waited for a response, so Iraine gave her one. She raised her eyes to once again regard the Queen of All Trees' brilliant crown. It was a corona of white fire brighter than the sun.
“I will do all you ask of me,” Iraine said. She felt her body stop suddenly and knock on something—a door maybe? That fleeting vision disappeared, and Iraine was fully present in this place outside of time again.
“Then rise, my Handmaiden. Go and serve with love.”
The glade vanished, leaving Iraine blinking stupidly at a solid wood door. What the hell? Inside, something terrible was happening. Iraine felt its suffocating evil as she raised her foot and applied her steel-toed boot to the door. It shuddered but remained closed. “By all that’s holy, let me in, or I’ll break down the door.”
A sigil shined on the wall much dimmer than the two leaves glowing on her palm. Well, they were both magic. Maybe this was what the Queen of All Trees wanted. Iraine shoved both leaves at the rune. “Open up.” The door swung in on a scene of chaos.
Across the room, light exploded from a window, hurling a man at her. He slammed into Iraine before she could dodge, knocking her down. Nulthir turned feral black eyes on her, revealing the nightmare inside him. But she knew now why the Queen of All Trees had sent her here.
“By order of the Queen of Light, I command you to leave.” Iraine shoved the Queen’s gift at him.
The instant that silver-glowing leaf touched his chest, darkness boiled out of him and threatened to sweep her away, but she held firm against its onslaught. No darkness would ever take her, not while she held the truth and the way in her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Nulthir was so damned cold. He lay broken and bleeding on a stone slab. Sigils flashed in his mind’s eye and inverted, changing their intent. The float spell became a lift-and-smash spell. The dawn rune twisted into a spell that spread darkness and absorbed light. His hands shook with the need to restore those spells to their original purpose, jangling the manac
les binding them. “Stop. I’m not a destroyer.”
“Then what are you?” that still, small voice from before asked. No cross accompanied it this time. Maybe it couldn't appear in such a dark place.
What are you? That same question had been asked on his twenty-first birthday when all his troubles had begun with his family. Then, he hadn’t had an answer. But Nulthir had one now thanks to the Guards. “A peacekeeper.” That title felt righter than anything else had since he’d left home.
“Sometimes peace must be won.” That presence faded out, but it was right.
Nulthir needed to find some way to fight back. But how? The demon had control of what little magic he had. If the runes flashing through his mind were any indication, it was learning what he knew.
Around Nulthir, teeth gnashed, and darkness oppressed him. Pain throbbed in his shoulders, making it hard to think. Chains bound him spread-eagled to what must be an altar. Probably the same one he’d been chained to by his family many months ago. But he hadn’t been alone then.
Thing had been there, and Amal and their kits too. They’d picked the locks with their claws. They were still out there fighting for him. If only he could find a way to help them.
“This isn’t real,” a familiar voice said. A green light kindled in the darkness, revealing a skinny boy of perhaps thirteen tied up by thick ropes. His eyes glowed a vibrant green when he opened them.
What was that kid’s name? Nulthir searched his memory. “Sarn? What are you doing here?”
“I’m not really here.” The hooded kid hugged his knees and rocked to and fro like a frightened child.
“But you were there. They kidnapped you in the hopes of using your magic to open a portal to hell.”
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