Ferryl Shayde - Book 3 - A Very Different Game Page 7

  “Just before I leave Claris, I will erase everything from when we untied the leeches. She’ll be a little confused by the passing of time, but there’ll be plenty going on to distract her.” Ferryl/Claris smirked. “I’ve mazzled some memories so she doesn’t notice the gaps after the leech left.”

  “Did you do that to me?” Jenny almost stood up again, definitely alarmed.

  “And spoil all the memories of the hand-holding and Abel trying to work out kissing levels? No chance.” All the humour dropped from Ferryl/Claris’s voice. “I trusted you, but I’m in Claris’s mind now and I can’t totally trust her.” Ferryl/Claris hesitated, then pushed on. “Claris might not even realise she was truly possessed. A mild mazzling has been spread over the whole period I’ve been in here, so I might seem to be nothing more than a voice in her head like Zephyr.”

  “Why did you do that? Knowing how much you did to save her should be enough to keep her quiet about how.” Jenny looked uncomfortable, still wondering just how real her own memories were. “You could have explained like you did with me.”

  “You knew about me within days, to work out the kissing, then had time to think as I woke you up without the memory of leeches clouding your mind. There hasn’t been time for Claris to understand and come to terms with what happened.” A little smile touched Ferryl/Claris’s lips. “She might not appreciate Abel’s hand-holding like you did.”

  Which was Abel’s cue to change the subject, before the others started teasing. “On that note of doom and gloom, can we get on with Jenny’s eyes? Watching her afterwards will cheer us up.” He laughed, remembering how excited Kelis and Rob had been when they could suddenly see in the dark. Jenny didn’t laugh, closing her eyes and bracing herself as Zephyr drifted in towards her left eye.

  ∼∼

  Twenty-five minutes later Jenny wiped her eyes with a tissue soaked in drinking water from her bottle. “You never mentioned the stinging. Not as bad as chopping onions, but not much fun either.” She kept her eyes closed for long moments, bracing herself, then opened them. “There’s not much…. Oh, wow. It sort of comes in slowly, a bit like after walking out of the sun into the shade.” Jenny turned her head back and forth and stood up. “Not as good as daylight, but definitely much better and I can see what you mean about fae and faeries glowing.” Her hand came up, a small fire glyph arrowed out and a large fae burst into flame, dissolving into oblivion as it tumbled to the ground. “Oh yes, that’s better.” Another glyph shot into the shadows at the base of the hedgerow, sucking a thornie out into the field. “Much better.” A fire glyph nailed it.

  “Fae bop!” With that Zephyr hurtled off along the hedgerow, soaring into the sky seconds later gripping a fae. Though even as they laughed, none of them could stop worrying about what might be happening back at Dead Wood. Adapting Jenny’s eyes had helped, but not for long enough.

  ∼∼

  On the outskirts of Dead Wood nothing happened for a long time, at least half an hour. Eventually a wave of compulsion swept over the small creatures in the field nearby, magical or flesh and blood. They all attempted to enter the wood, pushing forward until one by one the magical types, even the armoured hoplins, stilled and bubbled away into nothing. Fourthseed concentrated on the larger magical creatures it had snared, grazers from those similar to rabbits, if rabbits had four prehensile ears, up to a long-legged caterpillar-type a little larger than a sheep. The caterpillar lasted longest, its proboscis curling and thrashing in pain as the leech’s mind drove it forward across the magical barrier. Halfway through it shuddered, and with a low rattle it collapsed and began to bubble away.

  Several rats and mice, two rabbits and a dozen birds roused from their sleep survived crossing the barrier then fled in panic. Compulsion needed structured thought, but the magical deterrent latched onto that until sheer terror disrupted the leech’s hold. When the Fourthseed ran out of victims it carefully inspected Dead Wood, an inch at a time, and then the field.

  “Thirteenth, your host is magically aware. Look for another trap, or a veil. Take your time and inspect everything in sight. I do not trust the Hunter on the Wind. It is well named and might have flown back unseen.” Fourthseed tried to stand on legs that were encased in plaster casts but failed. “This host is not healed enough to move far.”

  The other host, Father Curtis, stood and looked around slowly and carefully. “The only signs of magic are the traps and the feeds. I have decided. I do not wish to be a bound servant, but a bound shade kept for torture would be worse. Huntian might torment us for a thousand years before it tires of the sport. Was that truly Braeth Huntian?”

  “I am sure. I saw it’s true-self so there is no doubt. Keep looking for any other magic nearby. If the fools really have left, Huntian has made a mistake. A sorcerer’s mistake.” Fourthseed looked around again. “If we can get free of these traps you can carry me to the nearest house. We will compel whoever lives there to drive us away.”

  “Huntian will follow.”

  “We can take different hosts and disappear. If we phone the church, Huntian will be running from them long enough to give us a start. It will need a different disguise, and new followers.” Fourthseed tried to get up again, and failed. “Keep searching. There is a way to break free, if we are truly alone.” Though the leech still wasn’t sure enough to say how, not yet.

  Over an hour after Huntian had left, Thirteenseed confirmed it still couldn’t see any sign of magical activity outside of the traps. Waves of compulsion lashed out for the third time but there were no victims, magical or otherwise, lurking nearby. “It is time to find out if we have a chance.” Fourthseed picked up a handful of earth and threw it at the trap wall. The earth flew through, unobstructed, as Thirteenseed stared in confusion and Fourthseed sneered. “Typical of a magic user. Huntian set a purely magical trap, forgetting we might use pure physical force.”

  “But we are magical so it still holds us.” Thirteenseed threw earth and watched it fly through the barrier.

  “We are magical but what Huntian forgot is that our hosts aren’t. Mine can’t walk, and is too damaged and wasted inside to live without me long enough to crawl to the tree. Yours has only been a host for a few months. If you seal up any holes when you withdraw from the host’s organs it can survive long enough to free us. Remember that you can still command your host even after you leave it, despite his ward, if you do not allow the compulsion to lapse. Don’t falter, not for a moment, or the church ward will reject you.” Fourthseed looked around, especially at the wood. The trees were spread out here, with a clearing between the two powering the traps so the leech could see a large area of rough grass and nettles.

  “Will he be able to enter the wood?” Thirteenseed inspected the Dead Wood. “It killed or frightened everything you sent.”

  “Send him here to look at this glyph, the one I draw in the earth, then he must draw it on his skin. Thirdseed and Ninthseed used it to overcome the fear while partly protected inside a host. It should maintain your link through the barrier into the wood, so you can overcome your host’s fear. Compel him to scuff the glyph on the tree, spoil it so the magic feed to your trap is broken. He can use a stone, or his teeth if he has to. Then break my trap, and get the host to swallow you again. Hurry. I do not trust Braeth Huntian to wait until an hour before dawn.” Far out beyond the edge of the nearest field a small spark rose and burst. “We must leave while it is still hunting.”

  Father Curtis sat quietly while his leech withdrew tendrils from his organs and brain, and patched his internal damage. After a few minutes he went down onto his hands and knees and began to heave. He coughed, heaved again and choked as his throat bulged. The leech dropped free, and the churchman rose to his feet to totter through the magical barrier. He spoke, though it wasn’t by his choice. “It works!”

  “Yes! Quickly now.” Fourthseed crawled to the edge of its trap to watch the man draw the glyph on his arm, using dirt and spit, then stagger towards the Sycamore tree. Five steps sho
rt of the trunk, inside the barrier around the wood and well clear of the magical trap, the man stopped.

  “No!” He raised a hand in defence.

  Two large, pale eyes had opened in the bark. “Hello, blood-bag.” Branches creaked and both leeches and the man looked up, exactly as the dryad wanted. Roots swarmed out of the ground, twisting and writhing as they wove a net around the priest’s feet and shins, starting up his thighs while he was still distracted. In one moment of shock the leech lost its link, and when it tried to reconnect the church wards rejected it.

  “Push him forward. Make him ignore the pain and tear free to break the glyph.” Fourthseed looked across at the other leech, sensing guilt and remorse. “You lost him!”

  As the compulsion died Father Curtis tried pull away, to get away from the magically inspired fear already burrowing into his confused brain. He might have peeled away the roots and done so, but Dead Wood pressed in and robbed him of coherent thought. A voice brought Fourthseed’s head back around to the wood. Impossible though it should be, two people watched from the middle of the clearing. Three, because Jane Doe could be seen through the nettles.

  “No you don’t, vicar.” Rob’s hands flexed, the glyphs flew, and earth rose to bind the roots together. Despite his frantic struggles the combination quickly held the churchman immobile, even trapping his hands as they pulled at the roots. He still moved slightly, because the cast didn’t tighten onto his skin.

  “How? I can see you but not feel you, but how?” Fourthseed couldn’t tear its eyes from Jane Doe, a leech who’d stayed completely undetected mere metres away.

  “Magic, the real thing, not that crappy blood magic you use.” The other person in the clearing sat slumped in exhaustion. Kelis raised her head, sheer hatred all over her face as she raised her phone and pressed send. “Don’t need magic to call Huntian, blood-bag. Braeth Huntian or the archbishop, time to make a choice.” She slumped again. “I hope you’ve got it, Rob. I’m done.”

  “No problem.” Rob pulled a lead bar full of magic from his pocket before casting another glyph with his free hand. More earth rose from the ground to coat Father Curtis’s arms as he tried once again to pull his hands free. More roots snaked out of the ground, burrowing through the earth covering to bind it together, then reach up his thighs to his waist. Despite the magical protection offered by his church ward, the sheath held the priest immobile. His head thrashed back and forth and he began to moan in fear.

  “Enough. Just keep the earth hard around the roots, apprentice, so he doesn’t overbalance and break our hold.” The dryad had come out of its tree, and now turned towards Fourthseed. “You consider yourself old and wise, but you are young and foolish compared to Braeth Huntian. Even her apprentices are beyond you.” Branches creaked, definitely dryad humour this time. “You should have joined her when you had the chance.” It raised a limb, the twigs on the end pointing across the field.

  Fourthseed twisted to see. Three figures raced towards it, with a flying hunter leading the way. Out of sight, beyond the wood towards the road, engines roared into life. Fourthseed’s host turned towards the sack-like creature with waving tendrils laid in the other trap. “You failed! I will not let you join Braeth Huntian. Die!” The leech struggled frantically as the compulsion hit it, trying to crawl away but the trap held it fast. Its tendrils lashed out wildly, blood spattering the earth around it as it thrashed and writhed before it began to bubble into oblivion. Thirteenseed gave a last shudder before collapsing, its tendrils falling limp and the rest quickly dissolved back into raw magic. Once it had gone, the dryad healed the glyph cut in its tree and the magic trap collapsed.

  “You let them cut your own tree?” The leech looked as confused about that as anything else because dryads jealously guarded their trees from anything and anyone.

  This time the branches creaked and thrashed enough to bring down twigs, almost hysterical laughter. “But it was my idea, my way to thank the master of Dead Wood for this fine tree, and a chance to squash another arrogant blood-bag. He has even promised me honey, and this sorcerer keeps his word.” The dryad glanced towards the sound of approaching engines and stepped back inside its tree.

  ∼∼

  Ferryl/Claris and Jenny staggered to a halt, panting, but Abel carried on to Kelis. “You okay?” He collapsed to sit next to her.

  “Maybe better than you.” Kelis stretched cautiously, her face twisting in pain. “Ouch. I’ve never worked so hard and all I did was sit here. I began to wonder if the rotten thing would take the bait, because I’d never have lasted until an hour before dawn.”

  “Crikey, weren’t three trees enough?” Abel glanced at the nearest tree, linked underground to another two with a third underground link to where Kelis sat. The magical links had been buried deep enough that even the dryad and Zephyr couldn’t see a hint of them.

  “Probably plenty, but it’s the continual casting, sucking the magic up one arm then pushing it down and out the other palm. My arms are dropping off. I’ve no idea how much that super-speed veil uses but don’t even think about it without at least one tree to supply the magic.” She stretched again, very carefully. “I’m pleased it’ll be Sunday so I can sleep late and laze around all day. Come on, help me up. I want to sneer at that thing and it isn’t as satisfying from down here.” Abel hesitated. “Don’t be an idiot. An arm round me won’t activate our connection, even if there still is one.” Abel knew some sort of connection survived, he could feel it as he helped her up but was relieved because Kelis didn’t know.

  By the time Abel had helped Kelis across to Fourthseed, her sneer had to take second place. Two Land Rovers bounced up and Creepio jumped out of the first one. “Is he alive? Is the leech gone?” He stopped to stare at Father Curtis, frantically trying to pull away from the woodland while tears poured down his face. Creepio’s stare might have had something to do with the earthen cast holding the priest bent over with his hands clutching at his knees. “Can you release him?”

  “Yes. The leech is dead but we needed you here before setting him free. He’s inside the barrier so he’ll be terrified and try to run away.” Rob looked a little embarrassed. “If he’d got out of the wood, the leech might have been able to get to him again. I didn’t want to wrestle a priest to stop him.” His hands worked, the glyphs flew and the earth began to crumble. As it did, roots wriggled free and slithered back into the ground.

  “A dryad is helping?” Two pale brown eyes opened briefly when Creepio looked towards the tree.

  “Yes, another nasty evil magical creature helping you to save a soul. You might want to rewrite that dogma of yours.” Kelis smirked happily as Creepio ignored her comments.

  Instead the vicar gestured two men forward as Father Curtis tripped and rolled away from the wood. The priest scrambled further away, moaning in fear with an arm up to hide his face. “Father Curtis will need a sedative. Check his vitals and get him to the ambulance as quickly as possible.” The men placed the Father inside their vehicle and began to check him over.

  “Fourthseed said he could survive for a while without the leech. Thirteenseed sealed up the major organs so he’d last long enough to free them.” Kelis finally got her chance to sneer at the Fourthseed. “This miserable specimen killed the other leech as a failure when we trapped your man, but doesn’t look any more successful from where I am.”

  “I’ll kill the host if you touch me. She’ll die in agony.” Though the leech glanced at Ferryl/Claris as it spoke, fully aware Braeth Huntian didn’t really care. “I will trade Braeth Huntian for my freedom? It is a bigger prize.”

  The vicar burst out laughing as Zephyr swooped low, now tethered to Abel. “You still think that is the real Braeth Huntian? You really are stupid.” He quickly sobered, fixing the leech with a cold stare. “I don’t care what happens to you, as long as you are bound or die.” Creepio turned away, speaking to the teenagers. “Do you need us for anything else?” As he spoke one vehicle roared off across the field with Father
Curtis aboard.

  “Possibly, in a few minutes, but you can’t watch.” Abel turned to Kelis, and Zephyr connected them by spooky-phone. “I want life support for either the host or Jane Doe if necessary. Do you have paper and a pen?”

  “Always.” Kelis produced a little pad and a marker pen. “My instant glyph-copying set.” She laughed at the suspicious look from Creepio.

  Abel scribbled on the pad. ‘We might need life support for the woman if we can kill the leech fast enough. You’ll have to wait out of sight while we do something ungodly.’ He offered the paper. “Can you do this?”

  Creepio read it. “These men are paramedics, and the ambulance is nearby.” The two men in the remaining vehicle nodded. With that the vicar climbed in the Land Rover and the churchmen set off after the other vehicle.

  Zephyr reached out to connect Abel to the rest through spooky-phone. “Fourthseed will not give up so we go to the alternative. I’ll give Rob a hand to bring Jane Doe, then Ferryl will kill the leech and we’ll try to save the girl, the host.”

  “I’ll get a tree ready for Claris.” Kelis walked past Jane Doe and into the wood, across the clearing where the three of them had waited. Ferryl had been right, the leech hadn’t even suspected the advanced veil that blocked even magical sight. Very few knew of it, and fewer still used it because of the amount of magic needed. “My thanks, tree.” Kelis sealed the underground links to the tree before cutting an ordinary draining glyph into the bark. She put away her knife and came back to the rest, her hand outstretched. “Let me have the marker back please, Abel, so I can draw the glyph on Claris’s palm.”

  Rob and Abel put the stretcher down near the magic trap, while Ferryl/Claris stood looking down at the Fourthseed and host. “Have you made up your mind?” As she spoke Jenny healed the glyph feeding magic to the leech trap and it disappeared.

  Even as the host opened its mouth, a sneer starting, Abel and Zephyr struck. Abel jammed a compressed air glyph inside its mouth to keep it open and the Sprite flew straight in. Barely a second later Zephyr shouted “got it” down the connection.