The League of Illusion: Destiny (8 page)

Chapter Fifteen

After riding all day through the rain, they finally stopped by a stream to rest the horses. Drea climbed down a small hill and relieved herself. When she climbed back up, Acari had a small fire going and was cooking a small animal on a spit over the flames.

The elf she’d been riding with handed her a water skin. She drank greedily from it. Her skin was hot. She feared she might be getting a fever. What she wanted to do was spit the water back in his face, but she knew that would be a huge mistake. She had to play it cool, had to appear to want to cooperate.

“Where are we going?” she asked after handing the skin back.

“You will have to tell us,” Acari answered.

“But I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. It’s buried in that pretty head of yours.” He picked up the spit and tore off pieces of the cooked meat. He handed a piece to her.

She took it gingerly. She was hungry and she needed to eat if she was going to keep her strength up. “I can’t tell you anything. I was so young. I don’t remember anything.”

“You will.” He handed her a wooden bowl. Inside was a thick dark liquid. “Drink this.”

She sniffed it. It had an earthy odor. There were definitely some herbs in there and ground-up mushrooms. “What is it?”

“It’ll help you remember.”

“What if I don’t want to remember? What if I don’t want to help you do whatever it is you’re going to do? What if I want to gut you like a pig for killing my father?”

“I don’t really care what you want.” Acari nodded to another of the elves, who grabbed her from behind. Acari took the bowl before she could toss it.

The elf grabbed her by the back of the head and yanked it back. Acari pinched her jaw between his fingers and squeezed. She had to open her mouth or his fingers would’ve pierced her flesh. He poured the contents into her mouth and then plugged her nose. She couldn’t spit it out but had to swallow if she wanted to take in any air.

He released her nose and pushed her away. The other elf let her go. She fell to her knees, shoved her fingers down her throat and tried to retch.

“That won’t help you,” Acari said as he loomed over her. “It will do much worse coming back up. Besides that, the
Brahmi
has already entered your system. You’ll be telling us everything we need to know in less than thirty minutes.”

Drea had never heard of Brahmi but she could definitely taste the mushrooms in the tincture. By the way she was already sweating she figured it was
aminita muscaria
now poisoning her system. It wouldn’t be long before the hallucinations started.

She sprang to her feet and ran into the trees. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the elves weren’t giving chase. They didn’t have to. She’d turn into a paranoid blubbering mess soon enough and they could just pick up the pieces. But she still ran. She didn’t want to make it any easier for them. And any delay in their travel meant more time for Sebastian to find her.

As she ran, her limbs started to feel like noodles. All flimsy and wobbly. It felt as if there were no bones in her arms or legs. She stumbled forward and tripped over a rotting log. She tried to stand but found her legs ineffectual, so she crawled forward, dragging her right leg. There had to be something she could do to inhibit the drugs coursing through her. A plant she could eat to counteract the effects.

She scrambled ahead, searching the plants and bushes for something she recognized. Names of her herbs that grew wild raced through her mind, searching for one that could be beneficial. Yarrow. She spotted it to her right. It was an all-purpose herb that helped maladies of the head, heart and stomach, and even had a calming affect. Maybe it could help stagnate the increasing effects of the mushrooms and Brahmi. It was at least worth a try.

She dragged herself toward the plant, her arms barely able to support her weight. She reached for the white flowers, tore them off their stems and shoved them in her mouth. But she didn’t get a chance to chew before she fell onto her stomach on the hard ground. The flowers fell out of her mouth.

It made her belly hurt but that made her laugh for some reason. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the trees gazing down at her. One tree was reaching for her with its bony stick fingers.

“Don’t touch me, stupid tree.”

There were footfalls next to her and she looked over to her left to see a man gazing down at her. He had short dark hair and was dressed quite gentlemanlike. Maybe he was going to a wedding. She liked weddings. Maybe he’d take her with him.

She smiled at him and lifted one noodle arm toward him. “Are you here to help me?”

He smiled and it made her stomach hurt even more.

“Oh my dear, of course not.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Are you going to scry in the flames?” Skylar asked Sebastian as he touched the pile of wood and it burst into flames.

“Yes, that’s the idea.”

“Do you have something of hers to use as a focus?”

“No, but she has something of mine.” He sat cross-legged in front of the fire.

His brothers stood behind him. Miss Stratton as well. Claude stood off to the side, obviously uncomfortable with what was about to take place. Skylar had settled in beside him, apparently fascinated with what he was about to do. She was the only other person here, as far as he knew, who could scry. It was not a normal ability that sorcerers possessed. He imagined Skylar had learned it during her many years in Druid tracker school.

“Skylar, my love,” Jovan said, “maybe you should leave him to it. You don’t want to be in the way.”

“I’m not in the way, am I Sebastian?”

“No.”

“You see?” She gave Jovan a look. “Now, I’ve never seen someone do a reverse scry before where the focus is elsewhere. Can you do it in water as well?”

He shook his head. “It’s more difficult. The reason I can do this is because the focus was forged in fire. It has a connection to it.”

“Fascinating.”

Sebastian took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to clear his mind. This was difficult considering all that had been crammed into it in the past hour. Resting his hands on his knees, he stared into the dancing flames. He concentrated on the medallion, a piece of his family’s history, pictured it in his head.

At first he saw only the red and orange flickering of fire. Then a shape formed in the flames. A circle. Then a circle of silver with two crossed swords. He stared at it, envisioning what was around it. Searching for whoever held it. There came a flash of something else. Another image. Mountains. There were mountains holding the medallion.

Then the flames shot out at him and he had to shrink back or get burned. Skylar jumped to her feet and ran back to stand with Jovan. He put his arm around her protectively.

“What did you see?” Rhys asked. “Did you see your woman?”

Sebastian got to his feet. “I saw mountains.”

“The Lonely Mountains,” Claude said. “They are a seven-hour ride at best.”

“Can you show us the fastest way, Claude?”

The tinker nodded.

“Before we go, we’ll need some weapons.” Sebastian eyed Claude. He shrugged and gestured for them to follow him into the smithy.

It was still without a roof. Claude had draped leather canvas over top to keep the elements from getting in. Despite that, there were several puddles inside from the last rainfall. Sebastian stepped over them, as his master opened a hatch in the floor and beckoned them to follow. Sebastian had always known about Claude’s secret workshop, but had never breached his privacy by venturing inside.

They all climbed the ladder down into the room. It was pitch black. But Jovan immediately fixed that by creating a ball of witchlight.

Claude’s eyes widened at the green iridescence. “Not bad.” He ran his hand along the rock wall and flicked a switch. Lamp after lamp lit up around the room.

Jovan smiled. “Impressive.”

It was impressive, as was the room. Every table and shelf was jammed full of metallic objects and contraptions. Some, the bigger pieces, were on the dirt floor.

“Reminds me of Mrs. Chattoway’s secret lair.” Miss Stratton reached over and took Rhys’s hand.

He nodded, with that faraway look of his.

Sebastian picked up an odd device from one of the tables. It looked like a pistol, the ones used back in London, but with an extra burnished cover and a switch along the handle. “How long have you been inventing, Claude?”

The metalsmith curled his lip in thought. “As far back as I can remember.”

“Why don’t you sell these things or show them to people?”

“Because most folks think I’m crazy as it is.” He took the pistol from Sebastian and set it back down on the table. “Now what I can I get you?”

“Something to help me take down the morrigan.”

“Have you seen it?” Claude asked.

“I got a glimpse the other night, but nothing registered. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, exactly.”

The blacksmith rummaged through a large pile of metal pieces. He tossed out a few. Sebastian bent over and picked one up. It looked like a chest piece for a suit of armor. Claude scrambled out of the pile with two more pieces. He held them down at Sebastian’s legs.

“A suit of armor?” Rhys asked. “How is that going to help? Is he going to joust with the morrigan?”

Claude gave Rhys a scathing look. “It’s more than just a suit of armor. This metal is impenetrable.” He gestured for Sebastian to hold the chest piece up to his chest. The blacksmith then grabbed an enormous mace and swung it full strength at him. The iron spikes bounced off the chest plate without making a dent. “No matter how hard I hit, or what I hit with, this metal will not bend or break.”

“So it will protect me from her blows, but what I need is a weapon to kill it with.”

Claude moved to the very back table that was along one wall. He selected a large piece from the multitude of devices and brought it over. It looked like an army rifle, but with a flared metal piece on the end of the barrel. It also had coiled brass wire around the barrel. The stock was made from wood and had two brass coils coming out of it, connecting to a separate piece, which was secured inside a leather satchel. He handed it to Sebastian.

“What is it?”

“I call it a blunderbuss.”

Sebastian inspected it, looking for where the gunpowder and metal bearings would go. “What does it shoot?”

“Lightning.”

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“Lightning?” Rhys asked. “From the sky?”

Claude shook his head. “Homemade.” He opened the leather satchel and showed them the glass orb nestled delicately inside. Within the glass was a metal coil. “Flick a switch, and the coil spins, making sparks, which in turn creates a strong energy that can be harnessed and directed through the blunderbuss.”

Sebastian shook his head. “You’re a genius, Claude.”

“I know.” He looped the satchel’s strap over Sebastian’s shoulder. “You need to be really careful with the coil. If the glass breaks, no more lightning. No more power.” He glanced at the others. “Now for the rest of you.”

Jovan’s hands sparked with magic. “No need. We’re good.”

Rhys unsheathed his rapier, and Skylar pressed something on the short rod she carried and it flipped out into a full
bo
staff.

Miss Stratton on the other hand looked positively giddy. “Don’t mind if I do.” She picked through the gadgets and chose a double-barreled gun with a wrist strap. “What does this do?”

Claude just grinned.

Once they were all outfitted, Claude gave them the use of his horse and offered his simple wagon. This seemed funny to Sebastian given the nature of his contraptions in his workshop. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the old tinker had a steam-powered carriage tucked away somewhere. They took the horse but not the wagon. It would slow them down too much. The metalsmith helped them procure four other horses as well from the town folk.

Before they left, though, they excavated Mr. Blairwood’s body from the ashes and buried him. Sebastian thought it only right. Drea’s aunt presided over the brief ceremony. It saddened him to realize that Drea would never get to bury her father.

Once they saddled the horses and scavenged food and other supplies from the village, it was two more hours gone. Now at last they were on the road.

Sebastian took the lead, riding hard for a couple of hours before slowing to a more reasonable pace. Rhys rode alongside, while the others trotted behind. Jovan and Skylar kept pace together, looking deep in a private conversation. Every once in a while Jovan would reach for her hand.

“When did that happen?” he asked Rhys.

“Over a month ago, when we first started our search for you. Jovan called the council to bring her in. She’s the best tracker they have now.”

“She’s all grown up.” Sebastian shook his head. “The last time I saw her she was still a child.”

“A lot has happened in five years.”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at Miss Stratton, who was riding with her eyes closed, soaking up the bright sunlight. She was quite the contrast to his usually unflinching brother.

“Yes, I can see that. How did you and Miss Stratton...?”

Rhys smiled. “I have no idea. She just snuck up on me.”

“It was fate, darling,” Miss Stratton said.

Rhys chuckled. “Well, there you have it. It was fate, says my dear Corina.”

Sebastian clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you. It would seem your search for me was not wasted.”

Rhys frowned. “Of course it wasn’t, we found you alive and well.”

“Right.” Sebastian nodded. He didn’t have the heart right now to tell him he was having second thoughts about returning to London. “You and Jovan seem like brothers again.”

“We worked our issues out.”

“I’m glad. I thought maybe when I returned that the two of you would have already killed one another and I would have to grieve doubly.”

Jovan laughed from behind them. “Believe me, brother, we came close.”

“Tell me about Darin Hawthorne. I remember him to be a bit of a callous man, some cruelty there certainly,” Sebastian said. “It was his father who I’d always found frightening. Now there is an evil man.”

“He’s his father’s son to be sure,” Rhys said. “I’m not sure what happened to him. Years ago, I could almost call him a friend, then it was like he snapped. His father has certainly pushed him to this.”

“Well, we’re not likely to see him again,” Jovan said. “He was badly wounded when we left him in France.”

“We’ll see him again,” Miss Stratton said from behind Rhys, with her eyes still closed.

“How can you be sure?” Rhys asked.

She slowly opened her eyes. “Because he’s already here.”