Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) Page 9

  “How did you guess?” Jenni said drily.

  That stung. “No, but I’ve been in plenty of fights,” Lathyr said. He’d lived nearly two centuries, after all, in uncivilized places—and also in “civilized” human cities. He’d watched and felt the magic decline, moved from places near inland seas or large lakes to ports and shore villages, to a couple of stints as a servant in Water Palaces, then other, less-rich domiciles, to whomever offered to guest him.

  “Oops,” said Jenni. “We’ll get you up to speed on Fairies and Dragons, now you’re here in Mystic Circle,” she ended.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Kiri said. The track had turned from dirt to stone stairs down.

  “See you later,” Jenni said. A polite smile flicked on and off her face. For the fact she had to leave rather than being in his company, Lathyr decided. She fairly vibrated with longing to stay.

  “We’ll be fine,” Lathyr said. He’d do his utmost to protect Kiri.

  Now Jenni frowned. “Don’t...” She shrugged and left.

  Kiri was humming as she hopped down the stairs, built to the proportions of dwarves, of course. They’d be a little too high for brownies.

  On the monitor, Lathyr could see her...and the track leading straight to the dragon’s den. He checked a tutorial quick list Jenni had placed on the desk. She’d called it a “cheat sheet.” The color of Kiri’s aura was yellow signifying a magical being under the fifth level. He looked at the big red dragon, jaws open, forked tongue out and tasting the air as if it scented dwarfem. Its color was an oily black. Highest level.

  Doom for one small sorceress.

  “Ah. Kiri?” Lathyr said.

  “Yeah?” She was shortening and lengthening her staff, making it wand and doing magical passes, then baton and twirling, then quarterstaff and lunging.

  “I suggest you return to the hilltop.”

  She stopped. “What?”

  “I strongly suggest you return to the hilltop.”

  “No. Reeaally?” She pouted.

  Lathyr had never considered a pouting dwarfem cute before.

  “Really,” he said, nodding, though she couldn’t see.

  Calculation came to her eyes. Her shoulders squared. “You can see more than I can.”

  “Yes.”

  “What—hmm, no, that’s unfair. How bad does it look?”

  “Do you want to end up in the healing cave again?”

  “Awww. You know I’m not sure of these almost-physical sensations of hurt. Not to mention weariness.” She turned and looked back at the hill, drooped. “I’m only three and I don’t have any travel powers yet.” But she started back up the stone steps.

  The dragon curled up and settled into sleep. Lathyr gauged whether Kiri could ever make it by the dragon. He glanced at the cheat sheet. “Do you have invisibility to all senses?”

  “No. And when can I get a travel power, and what power will it be?”

  “Ah.” He studied the sheet. “You should be able to see the list of potential powers on a card in your pouch.”

  “Oh, all right.” She shrank the staff to the length and thickness of a pencil and put it behind her ear. Interesting. Reading her own sheet, she said, “Oooh. It’s teleportation as far as I can see. Wow. And at level eight. Bummer. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which trail I should take at the top of the hill.”

  He looked at the one to the Earth Palace, easy and with jewels and weapons and rest at the end, then the other to a door that opened on a series of tunnels, with increasing levels of tough opponents, considered who he was talking to. “Take the one straight down the hill to the Twisty Caverns.”

  “Fine.”

  * * *

  Jenni and Lathyr dragged Kiri out of the game for lunch before she was ready. They had gourmet sandwiches in a large conference room looking east over the plains. Still plenty of green in the city, though there was a touch of autumn color on some trees and the ever-present dried yellow and brown shrubs and grass.

  Between bites, Kiri first enthused over the game, watching from the corners of her eyes to see any indication that she was doing good...or bad. She’d only been defeated a couple of times, which, for her and a new game, was a record. But Lathyr was sober, as usual, and Jenni smiling, which also seemed standard behavior. So Kiri had no clue how she was progressing, and it would sound too needy to ask after only a couple of hours.

  And though she’d planned on bringing up the opening later, she’d already had an idea about minigames in each realm, none of them lasting more than about ten minutes, max.

  Jenni listened and recorded her own shorthand notes about the concept on her handheld, then sketched a couple of outlines of the minigames with Kiri. She could only comment on the Earth Realm, but she thought she had a good feel for it already.

  At least she had until she was back in the game, sliding down a grassy hill...and being attacked.

  She was attacked no more than a few yards from the top of the hill by a group of small creatures.

  “Dust!” she yelled, casting the spell the way she’d scatter such dust. The small group of creatures froze...some in odd postures. They continued to glare at her with split-pupiled eyes, the tips of their small and furry triangular ears quivering.

  Licking her lips, anxious about how long they’d stay that way before they’d renew their furious attack, she encased herself in her protection bubble, and fumbled at her belt. Just as she touched the jewel, the hologram appeared at the left edge of her vision with a pic of one of the creatures, along with notes. She’d reached the level for that spell.

  “Feral prototype brownies,” a tinny, mechanical voice stated in her ear. That voice needed fixing, too.

  “Very minor threats to a dwarf, though when ired, can be deadly to humans and Dark minions.” What were Dark minions?

  “Particularly dangerous when in a group of ten or more.” Kiri counted, eight. Her breath sifted out.

  “Minor Earthfolk can be commanded by the major Earthfolk, dwarves. Excellent servants to all elemental folk—Lightfolk—and the occasional human.”

  “Brownies,” Kiri breathed. Of course. She pressed her lips together as she studied the group. How to command them? Could she?

  Now their ears were flicking back and forth, probably a bad sign. Enough time had passed for her “Dust” spell to relax, and she folded her fingers in as if she was ready to cast the spell again. More than one flinched.

  “I could use—” she didn’t want a servant “—help on my journey. Of a brownie or two.”

  A couple sneered. Two more shook their heads. It appeared as if the dust spell wore off from the top down.

  She held her staff braced, and the whole group trembled, gazes glued to the golden stick. “Not going to hurt you.” They weren’t worth many points anyway, much better if she got a helper. From all the legends about brownies, they could be very useful.

  Then their little shoulders twitched and she took a step back. They were thin, and not as tall as she was, but there were still eight to her one. She bet she could swat a couple if they came near.

  “We hate you!” One of them cried out in a shriek that nearly pierced her ears, definitely left them ringing.

  “Human in dwarf disguise!” One of the larger ones—a male?—sneered.

  Then the dust spell wore off. One ran, one jumped in and bit her on her wrist where her sleeve had fallen back and she actually felt something as if big-time pain hovered.

  Chapter 10

  KIRI YELLED AND swung, and the rest took off...except one. It hunched over, but angled up its head and met her gaze. Big brown eyes stared into her own, the ears flattened against its round head. Planting her stick in the ground, Kiri stared at the realistic puncture wound.

  “You should put some ointment on that,” the brownie—browniefem, isn’t that what Lathyr had called them?—said.

  Frowning, Kiri answered. “I have some healing spells.” She touched the jewel in her belt and the mechanical voice recited how to heal he
rself—gather and emanate the magic from your core to your wound, feel the earth beneath your feet and send the sense of life to your injury.

  She did the best she could and it worked!

  Huh.

  “I like clothes,” the female brownie said. “And I like warm campfires, and good foods.” She stared at Kiri’s pack. “I will indenture myself to you,” the brownie whispered.

  “It would be good to have your help,” Kiri said.

  The brownie smiled and showed red serrated teeth. Kiri ran her tongue over her own and found them equally sharp—she didn’t know about the color. Wow.

  Scuttling a little closer, the browniefem touched the pack. “Are there clothes in there?” she asked pitifully.

  Kiri didn’t know. “Open it up and take a...shirt...tunic, if you want,” she offered.

  “You are so generous!” The brownie’s fingers moved so fast they blurred, even to Kiri’s dwarf vision. The buckles and ties were undone, the clothes unearthed, spread, a shirt chosen and everything tidily packed back into the knapsack in a few seconds.

  When Kiri stared from satchel to brownie, the woman was wearing a shirt—that had been altered!—to fit her, in a berry red. Kiri swallowed.

  “Could you heal me, too?” asked the creature, holding out thin arms that seemed covered with bites. She glanced aside. “I used much of my magic this morning working for those...feral brownies.” She spit and stamped her foot on the wet spot, ground it into the earth.

  O-kay. “Sure,” Kiri said, again gathering, emanating, bathing...sending green magic along the small arms, actually enveloping the whole little woman in green light.

  She squealed with pleasure. “This is good! Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “’Welcome,” Kiri said, and slid her pack back on. It felt the same weight...light. Clearing her throat, she said, “What’s your name?”

  The browniefem’s eyes slitted and she replied, “You may call me ‘servant.’”

  “I can’t do that.” Kiri was horrified. But this was a magical universe, and some of those names had meaning. “I’ll call you Tanna.” Tan, like brown, with a female type ending.

  Ducking her head and smiling, the brownie said, “Thank you. I will call you ‘Mistress.’”

  “Um, why not call me Mistress K—” Kiri stopped. This was a very odd and real game, enough that she should probably be discreet, too. “Mistress K,” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress Kay.” With a jaunty step, the browniefem strode down the path and Kiri followed after, ready for more adventure.

  * * *

  Jenni’s body tensed beside Lathyr’s as they watched Kiri accept the brownie as a servant—though the image didn’t match the brownies he was accustomed to. These beings’ ears were shorter, their faces rounder and their whole bodies furrier. More like caricatures of true brownies.

  “How’s she going to treat the browniefem?” Jenni muttered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen now. She should have been awarded a companion as part of making it to the Earth Palace.”

  “The Eight wish to determine any leadership abilities immediately,” said a musical voice with the timbre of age. “So I, ah, tweaked your story limitations.”

  Lathyr sent his chair skidding away from the counter, leaped to his feet and bowed low, even keeping his gaze on the floor. He had never been privileged to meet the greatest elf in the world, the elven guardian.

  “Hi, Pavan.” Jenni’s voice was high with a stress Lathyr didn’t understand.

  “Salutations, Jenni.” From the dip in the elfman’s tone, Lathyr deduced Pavan had bowed to the princess.

  “Please, Sir Tricurrent, let us speak face-to-face. My salutations to you.”

  Lathyr had to deliberately raise his second eyelids that had snapped down in surprise. His “title” had been given to him a century and a half ago by a minor Prince of Air and, as far as he knew, was never accepted or recognized by any Lightfolk. He straightened slowly. “Salutations, Guardian.”

  Pavan was the epitome of a male elf, tall, slender but with a duelist’s musculature, pale skin tone and thin face that would never be considered human, beautifully formed pointed ears, silver hair and piercing bluebell-colored eyes. He didn’t appear several millennia old.

  But when Lathyr stood straight, he could hardly bear the intensity of the elfman’s scrutiny. This one could bedazzle and beglamour him as easily as Lathyr had Kiri, the elf’s magic was so ancient and powerful.

  Jenni Emberdrake stood tall, hands fisted, expression closed. “Another change. Next time you decide to mess with my work, could you possibly inform me prior to doing so?” Her accent was heavily British, with a hint of Northumberland.

  The elf appeared disconcerted, as if he hadn’t expected such scolding. Lathyr kept very still.

  Again Pavan bowed. “Accept my apologies...Jenni. I was informed of the Eight’s request late and you and Lathyr moved quickly with Ms. Palger.”

  Jenni gave a short nod, but her hair was standing out from her head. Her lips pursed, she seemed to breathe deeply as if she was restraining her temper, then her body relaxed. “Excuse me for snapping at you, Pavan. The Eight’s manipulations still rile me, particularly with regard to those they see as lesser, and that manipulation has now shown up in my game.”

  “I understand,” Pavan said, which was more than Lathyr did.

  Laughter came from the screen. Kiri and Tanna were walking side by side with lively converse between them.

  Pavan’s brows dipped slightly as he studied Kiri as dwarfem. “Even as a beautiful dwarf, she exhibits American human values.”

  “Some Americans,” Jenni said. “We aren’t all alike.”

  “She treats the browniefem well, as you do, and as the Davails do.”

  “The Mystic Circle people values,” Lathyr said.

  Pavan nodded to him absently, eyes still on the screen. Reflexive satisfaction that he’d pleased a powerful one infused Lathyr.

  “Whether or not the Eight were right to have me initiate changes in your story with regard to the leadership factor, the matter has now been raised, with the accompanying questions.”

  Lathyr’s curiosity stirred. “Such as?”

  Pavan replied, “How long will she keep the brownie? Does she want companionship on her quests?” He gestured for Jenni to sit, and Lathyr waited until both the others sat before he went back to his chair.

  “She’ll learn soon enough that her enemies will attack the brownie before they attack her,” Pavan said lightly. “That will be a test of her mettle will it not? Will she sacrifice herself to save it? Or sacrifice it to save herself? If it falls, she will also have the chance and the choice to resurrect it from her own magic and energy, but that will weaken her dangerously.”

  His voice remained light, nearly mocking, but his eyes flickered with storm winds.

  “Ethics, and morality,” Lathyr said, both concepts that varied from culture to culture, even within the Lightfolk.

  “We both know, Pavan, how the current royals have answered those questions, don’t we? What they consider to be the right answer under such circumstances.” Jenni’s voice was tight.

  A chill wind seemed to pass over Lathyr. He knew any of the royals would sacrifice him in a heartbeat if that served their purposes, perhaps even the two powerful people in this room with him. “There is always debate with regard to the needs of the many versus the needs of the individual,” he croaked. Usually bad for the individual in Lightfolk terms.

  Jenni sniffed.

  Pavan smiled and stood. “Watch yourself, Jenni.” He inclined his head to Lathyr. “You, too, Sir Tricurrent.” The guardian’s voice went even lower, softer. “And both of you watch Ms. Palger.” Pavan paused. “I am pleased that magic will transform humans. Many are not.”

  “Any word about Dark ones who might be attacking here in Denver? You know of the flyby over Mystic Circle last Saturday?”

  “All have discussed that incursion.” Pavan’s shrug was graceful. �
�The remaining Dark ones usually stay in areas of world strife, to feed off the negative energy...and to cause trouble and darkness for their prey. Now they have learned of Denver and the Eight’s occasional presence here, no doubt it is tempting to try and kill the Eight.”

  Lathyr shuddered. The Eight ruled the Lightfolk and elemental powers, danced to keep magic strong and shaped and helpful. Without them, chaos would ensue.

  The guardian continued. “We believe the Dark ones have also become aware of the Meld, and perhaps other projects.”

  “My husband told me that evil might like the Meld. And about that other major undertaking...”

  Again the elfman’s brows rose.

  “Since they’ll need my help. Eventually.”

  Pavan nodded. They both glanced at Lathyr, who attempted to appear innocuous. Jenni looked as if she wanted to ask more questions of the elf, but wouldn’t with Lathyr in the room. He wasn’t leaving while Kiri was in the game.

  Pavan cocked a pale eyebrow. “Yes, they will.” He smiled and seemed to be approachable. Lathyr didn’t know that he would trust that, but Jenni relaxed again. “If all goes well. The Fire King and Queen are new—” grief crossed Pavan’s expression “—and we don’t know their stamina or limitations or how their power will grow as they come into their royal personas. So dance rituals are written and planned that will be testing them soon.” Another smile, full of affection. “You have grown well into your own rank and status, Jenni, and have caught some of the Eight off balance. They will not want to reveal the weakness of their team to you.”

  “Heh,” Jenni said, grinning back at Pavan, who had done such a good job of soothing and distracting her that Lathyr was wary again.

  Then she looked at Lathyr with approval as she stretched, fingers linked and arms up, glanced at the monitor where Kiri battled swamp monsters alone, the brownie nowhere in sight. Kiri sent the last one flying into a swamp with the thump of her wand and phased through elemental colors as the defeat had her reaching the next level.

  Jenni spoke again, eyes alight with challenge. “I bet I get my team together faster than the Eight do.”