Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (10 page)

“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 herself—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.”

“I would not take that bet,” Pavan said. “Both of your teams prosper.”

The Fire Princess flushed. “I’m only a member of the Meld Project.”

“A very valued member. The Meld team is well guarded? We do not want them to fall into evil claws.”

Jenni’s delight at a challenge fell from her and she stood like a royal, chin tilted. “Yes, they are well guarded. They live in the new compound.” She eyed Pavan. “You and Vikos could stay at the Castle. There’s plenty of room.”

Lathyr kept his face masklike, though he flinched inside. Of course he shouldn’t have expected to have the place on Mystic Circle all for himself. He always had to accommodate himself to others’ wishes and orders.

Pavan glanced at him and Lathyr thought the elf saw what he strove to conceal, but the guardian answered Jenni softly. “We prefer to arrive and depart as needed here in Denver, not to stay.”

“Oh,” Jenni said.

There weren’t many who would have the power to repeatedly travel great distances in an eye-blink, but Lathyr reckoned the guardians could do so. The two checks on royal power were greater than any royal, perhaps even any royal couple, though rumor had filtered down that the Air royals and the Earth royals could command each guardian in dire straits. Lathyr wasn’t sure he believed that.

“Vikos and I just visited Mystic Circle. It remains safe from all Darkfolk and human evil. Well done, there.”

“I have the support of Aric, the dryads who’ve moved in, the brownies, the firesprite, Tamara Thunderock and the Davails.”

“Formidable.” Pavan’s lips curved.

“Formidable enough.” A chin jut from Jenni at Lathyr. “And he will help us in the future with water.” Her smile was like a sunrise. “We’ve been missing water, and now we have him.”

The possessiveness in her tone didn’t threaten Lathyr so much as please him.

“It’s good that you are all guarded.” Pavan tilted his head. “Ah, my partner, Vikos, requests that we leave for the Air Palace.” Another formal bow from the guardian, from a noble elf to a royal princess. Then Pavan vanished.

Shrieks from the monitor had Lathyr and Jenni pivoting to look.

Kiri was covered in blood and ichor.

Chapter 11

“WELCOME BACK,” JENNI
said to Kiri...who was glad she hadn’t worn her cashmere, since she was damp on her chest and her nape as well as under her arms.

“Thanks.” Kiri stood and shook her body out—very aware of unusual pangs. Not her shoulders or her neck or her elbow or the thumb of her mouse hand.

Nope, her wrists that had held and twirled her staff, her fingers that had flicked, her arms that had waved...all ached. And her legs actually felt like they’d done a lot of walking.

She also still felt the adrenaline dump from the last fight, the fury at seeing her brownie fall. Kiri was limp from the use of energy-draining power as she defeated the monsters and resurrected her Tanna.

Steadying her ragged breath, and with what she hoped was nonchalance, she pulled off her visor and gloves. Her hands had really sweated. In the fluorescent light, they appeared as if they were a full shade darker than they had been that morning. She stared and blinked. Because her skin had been darker as a dwarf? Because she’d spent all day in the sun? Couldn’t be. She was just seeing things.

Then she glanced at the wall clock, nearly shocked that it was five minutes from the end of the workday.

Thoughts, concepts, comments about the game sizzled through her brain. She’d have to hurry to put them all down. She lunged toward the keyboard, called up the word processing program.

“Kiri?” Jenni asked.

“Sorry, sorry. Gotta get my ideas down now, while I still remember them. You know the toons—the characters? Their graphics need to be a little more refined. Those brownies, I dunno, they didn’t look quite right...and the side mishes—missions—for jewels were fun but not very complex...and maybe the way to the Earth Palace should be shorter, especially if this is only a prologue. I dunno, I think a prologue should only be twenty minutes or so, maybe just one element or a smattering of the four...” She continued inputting her ideas as quickly as her fingers could move.

Jenni laughed behind her, and at the side of her vision, Kiri saw Lathyr’s long and elegant hand place a bottle of raspberry fizzy water within her reach. At the end of several minutes of fast and furious notes, her words petered out and she saved the document. After a few seconds’ hesitation, she dropped the file in the network box for anyone to access. Then she fell forward and had to brace her arms on the desk.

“Kiri?” Lathyr asked.

“Umm.” No use, she had to tell the truth. “I guess the excitement got to me.”

Jenni chuckled. “Intense, huh?”

Kiri lifted her head and swiveled her chair to face them. Lathyr stood, calm and sophisticated as ever in his gray silk suit. But after watching him during the day—of course!—it seemed like he wasn’t really into his clothes, as if they were just stuff he put on his body. He was expected to dress a certain way and he did, but he didn’t buy into the image. She liked that.

She’d love to see him in jeans. But that would probably make him too fine to resist.

Jenni’s hair looked a little wild, which cheered Kiri up. “Yeah, intense,” Kiri said.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of ideas.”

Kiri flushed. “Don’t mean to offend...”

“You aren’t,” Jenni said calmly. “Transformation
is
in the developmental phase, after all.”

A big sigh escaped Kiri. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, the business environment beginning to seep into her brain. “Yes.”

The door opened and there stood the receptionist, who was a very short and stocky woman—under five feet and looking much as Kiri had in the game as a dwarf. Did they use employees as avatars? That was cool.

Mrs. Daurfin stared at Jenni and Lathyr and sniffed in a superior sort of way. “Cloudsylph wishes to speak to you.” The woman’s gaze lasered to Kiri and her mouth turned down, almost as if Kiri wasn’t even worth a superior sniff. “About this project.”

Jenni sprang from her chair and it went rolling to bang against the counter. “This project is important! Just as important as anything else the Eight have going.”

But the woman had turned and was marching out with a heavy step that Kiri could actually hear on the thick carpet.

Lathyr stepped toward Jenni, did the half-bow thing, and offered his arm. “Cloudsylph doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Who does?” Jenni said, then turned to Kiri. “You did an excellent job.”

Kiri beamed as the warmth of Jenni’s approval washed through her, and noted that Jenni tidied herself, pulling the wrinkles from her shirt before she took Lathyr’s arm. She winked at Kiri, a cheeky comment on European manners.

Kiri chuckled and watched them leave. They looked like a beautiful couple, and she was glad Jenni was happily married, and only earlier that year so she was almost a newlywed. Jenni had looked even better with her husband, Aric. And then the back of Kiri’s brain kicked in and she wondered who this “Cloudsylph” was. She’d looked up the Eight Corp website and everyone listed on there and there were no “Cloudsylphs.”

Frowning, she glanced at the computer, wondered if it had a net connection, or whether Eight Corp was keeping the proprietary game offline. Would it be rude to check out the company online again? Maybe. Her brows dipped. As far as she could recall, Jenni only answered to the CEO of Eight Corp, the game designer was that high up. Lathyr hadn’t shown up in the chart at all, but then he was in Human Resources, not Creative Development.

Still, the only person above Jenni was an Alex Akasha, whose bio read like a standard CEO of a big company. Eh, didn’t matter.

Kiri stood and stretched, glanced at a small clock on the wall by the door, opposite the computers. Five-thirty. Exhaustion swamped her. She hadn’t ever realized how much a day of learning a new game could take out of her. It wasn’t only the game, but trying to impress Jenni...and Lathyr. If she hurried now—and she should have taken more stretching breaks, for sure—she could make it to the bus stop four long blocks away and home so she could do her evening walk around the Circle and sit awhile at the koi pond.

No one had said anything about her staying past five, and she’d put in over nine hours, so she should be able to leave. She grabbed her bag and pulled on her jacket and left the small room.

The office was as quiet now as it had been when she’d arrived a little after seven. Her mouth turned down; everyone must have come and gone while she gamed. She drew in a deep breath and her nose tingled at some sort of spicy fragrance. She found herself smiling again and her energy renewed. Great air freshener.

As she passed open offices with large windows facing downtown, she saw the day had clouded over and she grimaced. Her hoodie wasn’t waterproof. She should have worn her trenchcoat, but it was shabbier.

Like everywhere else, the reception area was empty.

By the time she reached outside, a nasty wind had picked up and pressed against her as she hurried to the bus stop. Naturally, the bus was late, and she got in just as rain spattered.

“Dammit,” someone grumbled. “The weatherman didn’t say anything about rain today.”

Kiri was making her way down the aisle that smelled of wet people and wool and dirt-turning-to-mud when thunder roared and lightning seemed to crack just ahead of them.

Slashing sheets of rain hit the wide windshield, covering it and the struggling wipers. The bus jolted and Kiri toppled sideways.

“Watch where you’re going!” a heavy guy in a pristine raincoat snapped.

“Sorry.”

She crammed into the corner of the last row, stared out the gray window and saw nothing but running water beyond the condensation, even though the bus crept along. She’d traveled the route long enough to judge when they were crossing the bridge over the Platte River and then the highway. The bus made the sharp turn into a hilly neighborhood, highway below.

A crack of thunder. Lightning struck the bus!

It tipped and she was flung down, people atop her. Yelling. Screaming. The crack of glass and the smell of gas.

She struggled to get up. Struggled to help.

* * *

Lathyr was staring out at the sunlit wide plains and paying attention to the King of Air, Cloudsylph, as he relayed the doubts of the other, more conservative, royals about the game project, when he
knew
Kiri was in danger.

He jumped to his feet and the king stopped midsentence.

“Kiri Palger! Danger.” Stretching his senses, he could
feel
a heavy, unnatural rain to the northwest.

Cloudsylph’s expression changed from annoyance to concern. He tilted his head and his beautiful elven features hardened. “An evil, great Dark one, and monstrous shadleeches and weather magic.”

“What!” Princess Jindesfarne stared at the dwarfem receptionist. “What’s Kiri doing out on her own? Didn’t you call a car for her?”

The woman rolled her shoulders with a movement like a landslide and pursed her lips. “I was not informed.”

Cloudsylph frowned at her and she shrank back.

Aric said, “You
were
informed that Dark ones have recently become aware of us, and this building, that we might be a target—we and anyone who works here.”

“Which includes Kiri Palger,” Jenni snapped. Her head angled like Lathyr’s and Cloudsylph’s, toward the weather disturbance. She shook her head. “I dare not use the Dark one’s lightning to travel.”

“Air transport is not as quick as water in these circumstances,” Lathyr said to the king. He disintegrated into mer mist—water, mer, cloth—and
stretched
to the farthest raindrop and
flicked.
And stood along a drop-off, being drenched. Looking up, he saw massive shadleeches—the last in the world and obedient to a Dark one. They herded the clouds, setting off and directing lightning at a bus lying on its side—a bus close to an incline that dropped to the busy interstate highway.

People were screaming, some fallen across the outside windows.

“Stay inside!”
Lathyr yelled. “It’s safer inside!” He projected his voice, but not many paid attention. Being outside the bus, against the metal during a Dark one–directed lightning strike was a sure way to be executed. He ran to slumped and singed limp bodies. A couple of people were dead. The uniformed driver was motionless.

“Kiri Palger!” he yelled. He wanted to connect mentally with her, thought they might have enough of a bond for him to speak to her telepathically, but that could scare her more.

“Here!” she called.

“Stay inside!” Through the broken windows he saw people thrashing around in the bus. Kiri was helping others get their bearings, wrapping a cloth around a man’s bloody head, urging him to rest.

She was alive. Thank the great Pearl.

“Gas!” she yelled.

He blinked, not quite understanding.

“Gasoline! Petrol!”

His heart just stopped. Another lightning bolt hit the bus...and the shadleeches, invisible to humans, began to shove it over the bank.

“Stay inside.”

“You’re crazy!” a woman yelled.

“Don’t!” Kiri shouted.

But the woman began to crawl out the window. Lightning struck again and her body jittered, lay still.

He spotted the pool of gasoline, close to Kiri’s position, showing greasy rainbows, a liquid easy for a mer to separate from rain puddles. Gasoline or shadleeches. The rocking wasn’t too quick yet—maybe he had time.

Running to the petrol, he stood in it, suctioned it up through his shoes into his body. Bad, bad feeling. He flung out his arms.

Sirens sounded, loud, insistent. Humans coming—police or fire, didn’t matter. He couldn’t save everyone, couldn’t explain. He sent the gasoline through his molecules, and through his fingers
shot
the noxious stuff toward the shadleeches—one, two, three! More lightning and they flamed, shrieked in and out of his hearing. Sizzled. Died. Crumpled into bone-and-flesh bundles half-in and half-out of this dimension.

Another bolt hit a fraction before his toes. Not enough petrol to burn, he’d taken it all inside himself. Sickness, unconsciousness threatened.

“Good job,” said the King of Air, Cloudsylph, standing dry as it rained around them. His glance swept the shadowy mounds of dead shadleeches. The king stared at the bus then peeled it open with a wave of his hand. Thunder roared, reverberated, as he smacked clouds together, crushing the remaining shadleeches.

The rain stopped, automobiles with flashing bars skidded to a halt on the street and the highway below.

Kiri stood, sopping wet, on the side of a seat, staring at him and the king. Lathyr wanted to speak but the filthy effects of the petrol poisoned him.

Then the king grabbed him and they were gone, to the pool of the Castle at Mystic Circle. The balanced elements eased him slightly.

Cloudsylph shouted mentally, “Queen Greendepths to me!”

Lathyr’s control gave out and he fell into the pool, knew he would separate, perhaps into too many droplets and be lost to death. His last thought was that the King of Water would be furious that his queen would be tending to Lathyr.

Water filled his lungs, his ears, his eyes and in between his molecules.

* * *

Kiri stared at the spot where Lathyr, looking gray-skinned and sick, had been. He was gone. So was the guy who’d been slightly taller than he, white-pale and with pointy ears. And who was dry.

She rubbed at her eyes, her bangs dripping water down her face. No more smell of gas. She must have overestimated that danger. Too many movies where vehicles blew up, though lightning striking gasoline couldn’t be good.

No more bone-rattling thunder, no lightning and the rain seemed to be slacking off. No, it was simply gone and the clouds high and white and showing sunny undersides. That was Colorado, sudden weather.

“Kiri!”

Wiping a wet arm across her face, Kiri settled her workbag strap across her body, and stepped down to the side of the bus that was now the floor, the width was still wider than she was tall. She was the last one in the bus, and she thought she recognized Jenni Emberdrake’s voice. Kiri picked her way toward where the bus had broken open. How had that happened? Then she saw the end of the bus was hanging in air and the drop-off was a steep hill leading to I-25 southbound. Just the sight made her heart race again.