Earwig chanted altered-lines of powerful spells. Her mind focused on the vision. Energy shimmered and a pulse shot to the mineshaft. A flash between the pursuers and the fanged bat illuminated the crystal. The light dimmed, and the paranoid creature flew out of the cave, her lips trailed smoke from singed whiskers. Forced or drawn by the spells, the bat fluttered across Lemnos to Neuyokkasin. Days later, she stood trembling in the dark tower workroom before the witch.
Piercing red eyes above snarling wolf fangs warned Earwig to keep her distance as the shapeshifter changed again into human form, though some tufts of hair appeared here and there due to lingering stress. Flaps of loose skin hung from her arms in the last of her transformation. At first, the creature stared and hissed. Her deep-set eyes shifted amid jerky movements as she searched for means of escape.
The insanity, I suppose, results from the strenuous mental chaos shapeshifting imposes on their minds, Earwig thought. Doesn’t matter, she’ll do my bidding.
“Who are you?” The dark-haired woman asked. Lowering her head in a guttural growl, she flicked out wolf claws.
Earwig didn’t respond at first. Her survival required her to retain control. The creature she’d summoned dared to question her, a futile stab to regain dominance. It angered the witch. She’d snuff defiance before the creature went any further. Earwig felt her face flush, narrowed her eyes, and pinched her lips, a visual counter warning. She mumbled a spell.
In the moment of silence, the shape-shifter crouched and changed into a vulture-headed sphinx.
Claws shot out with a horrific scream as the creature took her first step toward Earwig. The witch’s flabby arm surged to direct a deep-voiced spell. The vulture-sphinx stopped in her tracks, shuddered in pain, and retracted her claws. Her head slumped. She backed down, growled, and dashed to a shadowy corner where she turned back to her oppressor. Earwig stepped toward the cowering shape-shifter.
“I’m Irkin, your master. You don’t need to know more.”
“I’m… I’m Tog.”
“I don’t care who you are, just do as you’re told. I’ll release you unharmed if you accomplish a simple mission.”
“How did you find me? What do you want?”
“How I forced you to come to my aid is of no importance. The fact that I did is what should concern you. You’ve nothing to fear so long as you do as you’re told. What I have in mind should be of some pleasure to your warped brain.”
Tog arched her back like a cat. “Who’re you to call me warped?”
“Shut up and obey, or I’ll reveal your-- shall we say abilities and return you to those pursuing men’s care. Your end will be most unpleasant.”
The trembling shape-shifter stood speechless. The last of her wolf fur dissolved into skin as the creature completed the change to her original human form. Earwig noted her eye teeth were still more wolf-like fangs.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’ll transform into some winged thing, you choose the species, and fly direct to Hyemka on the Nhy. There, you’ll wait for a boat carrying a man and two boys, one blonde, one dark, curly-haired. A small bird travels with them, which should make them unique among the river traffic.”
“You want me to kill’em?”
“Shut up and listen. Kill the blonde boy with the big ears. The man is a wizard; avoid him. I don’t care what you do with the other little troublemaker.”
“A wizard?”
“Do as I say, and the wizard won’t be a problem. You’ll need to catch the boy when his guardian is away. They won’t separate except at Hyemka, where they’ll have to restock supplies. When they tie up at the wharf, the man will go in search of food.
6: Journey to Heedra
“We’re approaching Heedra, the town where the Southern Nhy merges with the Upper Nhy,” Tournak said one afternoon. It was autumn and boats loading and unloading the year’s harvests lined the bustling wharf. The sinking sun’s golden hue bathed the town. “We want to avoid anyone noticing us if possible. Keep quiet and out of sight.”
Bodrin squirmed on his seat.
“What is it, Bodrin?”
“Sir, we’ve never been to Heedra. What sort of town is it?”
“It’s at the center of the rich Vos Plain. Heedra is the agricultural assembly point where estates warehouse their products for collective shipping downriver. The harbor is the staging point for traffic coming from or going to Konnotan. Those large buildings are warehouses and fine houses of prosperous merchants within the old city walls.”
The boys leaned forward and strained to dissect the city. Saxthor’s hand slipped, but he caught himself. The boat rocked, and he sat down.
“Careful now,” Tournak said. “Heedra is a busy place; someone may well recognize us. After the recent attacks, we must avoid contact with travelers and potential watchers Earwig will assuredly send out to locate us again. I’ll find a secure place out of sight from the main waterway during daylight. After dark, we can sail past Heedra unseen.”
Minutes later, the wizard turned the craft into a stream off the Nhy upriver from the town. “We’ll camp on the high ground’s backside. We should be out of sight from below. Make camp, but no tent or fire in the trees overlooking the river.”
The three rested atop a knoll where they could monitor anything that moved on either the riverbank or the stream. Thick brush obscured them from sight. They were able to peer over it to first spot anyone approaching. After dark, Saxthor was repacking the food when a sudden movement caught his eye.
“Tournak, I thought I spotted something stirring in the shallows.
“I hope your aunt won’t be able to send another creature like the swamp demons before we travel again. We’ll keep changing our locations to be safe. Those attacks were unnerving, but you boys can relax for the present. The witch can’t find us unless one of her agents does. We’ll be moving on soon when the boatmen tie up off the river and settle down for the night.”
“You all right, Saxthor?” Bodrin asked. “You’ve hardly spoken for days.”
“I’m putting Tournak, and you in danger. I don’t know what to do. You’re my best friend. If you stay with me, I might get you killed. Maybe I can have Tournak send you home from Heedra. He said lots of boats go up the Nhy to Konnotan from Heedra.”
“No, Saxthor, I’m staying with you. You’re going to need all the help you can get. Besides, you’d be lost without me. Tournak is good with wizard-fire stuff, but my hunting knife, that’s real protection.” Bodrin brandished the blade about.
Saxthor crossed his forearms in front of him, dodged left, right, and winked, yet said nothing. Later he found Tournak and broached the subject.
“Tournak, I want you to take Bodrin into Heedra and find him a way home. It’s not right to endanger his life. I didn’t realize it would be like this. I can’t get you both killed to save me.”
His mentor patted Saxthor’s shoulder. “Bodrin needs to go with us. If we send him home, Earwig will torture him knowing he can lead her to you. You’re an honorable young man, Saxthor. Both of you will make names for yourselves in the kingdom one day.”
“If I live long enough.”
Saxthor sat down beside Bodrin. Exhausted, they said no more and dropped off to sleep. Tournak stood guard from the knoll’s crest. He listened to laughter and chatter from the taverns. As he monitored the activity, occasionally inebriated patrons stumbled out on the dock where the night watchman turned them back into town. Through the evening, the alehouse cacophony died down. A quiet settled in until fresh sounds of foraging night creatures replaced the crude tavern racket. The torches illuminating the wharf burned bright until an hour before midnight. Then watchmen extinguished all but one at each end of the docks. Slumbering Heedra slipped into silence.
In the wee hours, Tournak shook the boys.
“I think we should leave; let’s get back on board. We need to move far beyond Heedra before dawn.”
The quarter moon dappled pale light on the r
iver’s shimmering surface. They sidestepped their way down the steep embankment through the underbrush to the former boat now a raft. Bodrin stopped and thrust out his arm. “Saxthor!”
“I knew this was a magical thingy, but I had no idea it was able to change shape,” Saxthor said. He studied the new form.
Bodrin pointed. “The boat’s elfin face is on the raft’s center log just above the water. It’s our boat.”
Hesitant, Saxthor and Bodrin turned to each other. Bodrin tapped the craft with his toe but got no response. He stepped the first foot on the raft as if the conveyance were alive. Each paused to detect any reaction. Still silent and in awe, they boarded the craft. Tournak couldn’t help but grin.
“Kinda gives me the willies to walk on this boat-raft,” Saxthor said. “The change doesn’t seem to bother Tournak so that I won’t ask questions. We’ll need to tie down the chest with ropes.”
That done, they sat in the raft’s center and, the craft slid from the bank. It moved through the shadows where, with the water flow, they slipped out on the river. A barred owl hooted as he flew past on his way upriver. Silver moonlight flickered on the edges of eddies in the current.
“The night noises seem louder than those during the day, don't they?” Bodrin said
Saxthor was studying the riverbank. “Since the tree-phantom attacks, we’re all noticing strange sounds more.”
“I mean like the deer drinking over at the water’s edge,” Bodrin said, “She snapped a twig as she came to the river. A fish splashed when it snatched an insect that struggled in a swirling eddy. I’ve come to like owls hooting from perches high in the trees.”
“I hope it means there’s no one around watching us,” Saxthor said, “But the noises keep us on guard and edgy as much as not hearing them.”
The noises reassured Tournak strangers weren’t lurking on the bank. Still, the spirit demons that attacked were able to approach unnoticed until the last moment. Only Twit had noted things were out of place.
“We’ll float past Heedra in the night and on down the river without stopping until dawn.”
Not long after sunup, Tournak steered the raft into a cove sheltered by birch and willow where they ate and slept through the morning on the bank. They returned to the raft only to find a larger boat complete with a gray, weathered patina.
“This thingy has changed again,” Bodrin said. “The elf face is on the steering oar handle.
Saxthor squinted. “Where?”
“Over the back seat, it’s hard to see from the river.”
“The boat seems to mimic the other vessels around it when it changes,” Saxthor said.
“Yeah,” Bodrin looked at Saxthor. “It’s like the thing thinks.”
“I believe she does know what’s around her.”
Tournak cleared his throat. “Enough chatter, untie the spar and unfurl the sail. Can you boys do that?”
“Sure,” Bodrin moved to the mast.
“Why change again, sir?” Saxthor asked.
“Here, the river is broad and deep. Larger sailing vessels can travel the waterway taking the fall harvests to markets. This form blends in better with the other boats between here and Olnak.”
By flapping, Twit drew attention to a water moccasin coiled on a partially submerged log bobbing in the water.
“On the tree trunk,” Bodrin pointed.
Warming itself in the autumn sun, the snake gaped its cottonmouth in warning as they passed.
“It’s not the ones I know about that worry me,” Saxthor said. He lay down by the side of the boat in the sun. His arm leaned over the edge. “Soon those snakes will be hibernating, thank goodness. No attacks since Heedra; maybe we’re worrying too much. The cool water flowing between my fingers, and the autumn sun’s warmth on my face are so relaxing. I hope we’ve given Aunt Irkin the slip.”
“What’s that?” Bodrin asked.
A dark image moved against the current, and Saxthor snatched his fingers out of the river. An ancient diamond-back snapping turtle’s head broke the water in their wake. The turtle’s orange eyes surveyed the passengers, then the reptile slipped down and disappeared in the murky water. Tournak just caught a glimpse of the creature. Twit was on a mission from his perch to catch a particularly plump, juicy moth blown onboard by the breeze. The wizard gave it no more thought.
* * *
At Konnotan’s royal palace, Memlatec was passing along the grand gallery when he encountered Earwig leaving. The two stood like bristling, arched cats, and sidestepped each other in locked stares. The courtiers noted the confrontation, and the well-traveled passageway soon emptied. They left the two posturing nemeses alone.
“Be warned, Witch,” Memlatec said. His voice almost sizzled.
“Be careful of you, High Court Wizard?” Earwig said. “You’re not the only one here with real powers.”
The warlock stiffened. “You’ve dared to damage the royal children, yet the queen hesitates to admonish you for the moment. Her patience is not without end.”
Earwig laughed, her tone triumphant.
“The queen… I’m the queen, the real queen, the queen capable of wielding royal power, or at least power. Eleatsubetsvyertsin is too tender, too caring. She fears upsetting the fragile political stability of her vulnerable, new position having snatched the crown from Minnabec. She’ll not challenge me.”
“The queen’s concern is for the kingdom’s constancy, yes, but she doesn’t fear losing the nobles’ backing her on the throne. She wants peace and prosperity, but not at the cost of her children. Your vicious tongue is evil enough without your physical attacks on them. If there’s evidence to convict you of harming one of the royal heirs, the queen won’t hesitate to imprison you.”
Earwig’s eyes narrowed, the smirk was gone. “And you wizard, do you threaten me also?”
“You’ll not attempt to harm any of the royal family again without facing me first. You’ll regret my response, witch.”
Earwig took a step backward, but her pinched face remained focused on the towering wizard. “So you say, Memlatec… so you say. Know I have powers, too, and support beyond what you’re aware of. Take care threatening me.”
Memlatec followed her movement as she stepped away, then quickened her pace on down the hall. The sorcerer sparked a warning. The slight pop burned Earwig’s gaudy print outfit on her posterior. She jumped and ripped a strained seam. Mumbling as she went, Earwig glared back at the magician and rushed from the gallery.
*
Back at the Earwighof, the witch huffed and groaned as she struggled to get out of the disintegrating gown that tore at every seam as she squirmed. Unaware she’d returned, Minnabec entered her chamber, startling them both.
Earwig glanced over her shoulder. “What do you want?”
The duke’s hand and his papers quivered. “I brought you these documents to sign if you will.”
“Drop them on the dressing table and be gone. I’ll sign them when I please.”
“I need them tomorrow.”
The witch ignored her disgraced husband. Her pudgy fingers struggled with the gown’s loop around the button at her indiscernible waist. A fingernail snapped and flew up in her face. She dodged the projectile and jerked back her finger, but the pressure on the remaining threads was too great. Splitting with increasing frequency, seams gave way all over. Bulges of Earwig rolled out everywhere that made her undergarments distort like a shifting, bulging sack of potatoes. The tattered gown hung in shreds.
A single giggle escaped Minnabec’s thin lips, and he slapped his hand over his mouth.
The duchess grabbed a powder pot from her dresser and hurled it at him. He had already turned to flee when the giggle erupted into a reverberating roar as he scurried down the hall.
7: Crisis at Hyemka
Though bitter, Tog soared northwest to Hyemka as a vulture then changed to human form once she sighted the river town. She landed and walked in along the main road until she came to the old cemetery j
ust beyond the village where ancient, sprawling oaks shadowed the lichen-covered gravestones, many ajar from age. She took refuge in the small shack that housed the gravedigger’s tools. All afternoon the burial ground’s rusty gate swung in the breeze. The metallic screech resounded over and over. The unstable Tog scratched at the shack’s dusty boards until the evening when she ventured out and searched the plots for a recent burial. She happened upon a fresh, gaping pit waiting for its purpose to arrive. Her devious mind hatched a plan for the open plot. While waiting for the boat, Tog monitored the grave to confirm availability throughout the day. At night, she kept company with a raccoon that prowled the graveyard, too.
During the full moon nights, her joints ached, but she took advantage of the night to fly up the river, searching for Saxthor’s boat coming downstream. Tufts of hair would appear and disappear amid her feathers, so she flew high and hoped to remain unnoticed until the moon phase change.
“I need to locate them before they get here,” Tog said to the raccoon that could care less as he overturned rocks and scratched in fresh grave dirt for worms or the gravedigger’s cast-off food bits. “When I find the approaching boy, I’m going to dig that pit two feet deeper. Once I kill him, I’ll inter him deep, so the grave’s depth appears as before. As the weeping relatives lower the casket of the next occupant into the ground, they’re unlikely to notice disturbed dirt at the bottom. They’ll bury their relative on top of Saxthor, and both will find obscurity together. Nobody… no proof the witch was involved in his disappearance.”
Tog hung close to the graveyard during the day and scavenged for food after nightfall. Chickens and small animals disappeared in the early morning gloom, but no one searched the cemetery for the predator. Days passed, and she grew more frustrated until, on a night search of the river, she found a man and two boys camped by a fire high on the riverbank. The next morning, she assumed wolf form and approached the camp as the travelers were packing up to leave.
The N Arc of Empire- Complete Series Page 8
