Vecubus Attack
“Steavyn!”
Marie knew he could not hear her. She panicked, clumsily trying to climb over the archway rail, but it was too far a drop. What was happening to him? The question sliced through the raging thoughts in her mind. She speedily searched around her for something to lower down to Steavyn.
She spotted his pen lying on the arch floor— the pen he used for her drawing. Now half-crushed in her hand, Marie held up the sketch and studied it, just as she was struck by another strange bout of déjà vu.
There it was, right in the drawing. The odd shape Marie had noticed several times already. Steavyn had drawn it into the sketch’s wooded background. Where did she last see that strange shape? Again, she glanced about the archway, until her eyes locked on the wall of stone, with its many crags and fractures forming all kinds of patterns.
She raced back through the wall passage. In desperation, Marie firmly grasped for the tall spears sticking out from the water. She heaved, but nothing budged. She then remembered what Steavyn told her: how one must grab both at the same time. Marie saw this was impossible, with the span between them some fifteen feet.
For a moment, Marie thought she heard distant voices, calling out. They seemed far away. She ignored this and instead faced the stone wall. There were indeed endless shapes within it. Her eyes fought to unravel their geometry. She took a few steps back, then crouched a bit. A pattern appeared and fluidly shifted before her eyes. She took another two steps and then crouched a tiny bit more— There it was! Straight between the spears with the archway framed under them and from only this height and perspective. The exact shape from her sketch was framed and clearly outlined.
Marie struggled to squelch a resurgence of panic. She was taking too long to solve this puzzle. Though less than a minute had passed, it was a minute too long for someone drowning. Marie climbed the arch rail again, then grabbed the spear tightly and shimmied up. Reaching the strange shape upon the wall, Marie freed one hand, pushing against the stone: nothing happened. She pushed again much harder, with no result.
Marie maneuvered herself to get better leverage. She desperately held herself aloft with just her legs, then purposely fell into the stone with both hands held out.
“No, Marie!” cried out a strong voice.
With a crack, the stone gave way. It cleanly separated and slid from the wall. Marie fell with it. She lunged out to the spear shaft and just caught it, but quickly saw in despair that both spears suddenly shattered apart. Down she plunged.
She had enough self-awareness to hold her breath, yet Marie prayed she would not crash into the basins’ rocky edge. In startling confusion, she suddenly felt herself being seized and held close by strong arms. Looking about her she saw a face familiar, yet different. It was Steavyn. Marie looked down and gasped. They were rising up, away from the water—somehow sailing through the air. Steavyn carried Marie over the archway as he landed, easily touching both feet down.
He allowed Marie to stand on her own before he released her. As he did, she stared at him, unable to believe what she saw.
“Are you hurt at all?” he asked quickly and earnestly.
He was completely transformed, physically. He must have been some fifty pounds heavier, most of it defined with muscle. His skin was flush with wholesome color. He stood straight and tall as opposed to slightly hunched, now with two great, shimmering wings sprung from his shoulder blades. His eyes were bright as ever, now matching the vigor that embodied him.
“A little shook up,” she said, “but I think I’m okay.”
“Thank the Fates,” said Steavyn. “Yet this is a dark hour.” He looked past Marie, where the two massive spears had been destroyed. As he did, Marie saw the alarm and foreboding cast over his face, which he could not hide.
“Steavyn, what happened, what did I do?”
“It’s my fault,” he said. “I did not realize the danger of bringing you here. Once you unsealed the hidden marker, the ancient spell over this place ceased. It was no myth, as you suggested. There was another way to remove the ceremonial spears. The pact has been broken.”
“I’m so sorry, I was trying to save you any way I could—”
“—Please hold no blame on yourself.”
Marie heard the distant voices again, as did Steavyn. They both clearly heard Marie’s name called out.
“Your friends are looking for you,” he said. “We must go now, quickly. Please, take hold of me.”
He extended his hands. Marie held him around his neck and shoulders. His huge wings spread apart and they were off again, soaring through the air. Marie gasped in unbridled elation. Steavyn, however, did not share her excitement.
They re-entered the diamond labyrinth in flight. Marie could feel Steavyn’s considerable strength as he easily swerved through the air.
“What happened, Steavyn?” she asked as they flew onward. “Is this the real you?”
“I share this form along with my other.”
“So, you can’t be human then?”
“I am. But here within the Faeriaye Realm, I also may live as this. It was a gift they bestowed upon me. An essence, fashioned from what I would have been, was I not born sick. With an extra spell or two.”
“But then why don’t you stay like this all the time?”
“That’s not how the gift was given. They could not completely undo what I was, but I was granted some reprieve from my suffering. Until today, I thought I could only take this form when my pain became too much. But I now understand my magical friends have a sense of humor. They never mentioned it could be either pain or pleasure.”
“I wish you told me this before!”
“So do I.”
“What’s going to happen now that the pact is broken?”
“I don’t know,” said Steavyn. He threw her a curious glance. “How did you know where the hidden marker was? I’ve stared at that wall endless times and never saw a thing.”
Still clutching her drawing, she shoved it in front of him. “Right there. You drew it in my sketch. Didn’t you want me to find it?”
He stared at it a quick moment, then shook his head. “How could I sketch in what I never knew? Whatever you saw, Marie, you found on your own.” Steavyn was however, incorrect, as they would eventually learn. This mysterious skill existed between them and would be a valuable aid in time.
The voices became louder and clearer.
“Why are they calling me?” asked Marie.
Steavyn’s gaze narrowed as they landed. “Something else is amiss.”
Marie released Steavyn’s shoulders, just as Perion and Courinn emerged round a corner.
“There you are!” exclaimed Perion, relieved.
“I’m okay, what’s going on?” said Marie.
“The palace is under attack!” said Courinn. “We have to go right away!”
“Under attack, how?” asked Steavyn.
“The trollogre is entering the hillock,” said Courinn.
It was like a sharp stab of fear striking Marie. In the last four days, she had thought of little else but two things: her mother and the trollogre. One was now very close.
“She’s coming after me,” stated Marie, drawing out and gazing at her charm.
“Steavyn,” said Courinn, “has the monster ever attacked before?”
“Never that I’ve known.”
“We must flee immediately,” said Perion. He turned to Steavyn. “You and all the Faeriaye are in the gravest of danger, as long as we remain.”
“The folk here do wield the power that will stay the creature from entering these halls,” assured Steavyn.
“They’ve slowed her passage, yet she still comes forth,” said Courinn.
”Come!” said Steavyn, already leading them off. “This way!”
When they reached the main palace, Marie saw the beautiful people gathered and readied in defense of their home. They moved with speed and grace; many could hardly be seen by Marie, except as blurs and streaks. Others flew about, much as Steavyn could, prepared for the worst. A terrible, growing noise echoed through the palace, a sound that Marie immediately recalled: choking and strained breathing.
Steavyn led them to the far end of the palace, where they each found their packs and slung them on. As Steavyn helped Marie with hers, he quickly spoke with Courinn and Perion, making sure they understood his plan. The monstrous roar became closer and fuller.
“She’s close,” said Steavyn.
“What you’re proposing makes sense,” said Courinn. “If we withdraw at the right moment, we should be able to slip between her entrance and our exit. The timing will be crucial and we risk disastrous consequences. We’ve already lost a whole day coming in.”
“Lost a day?” asked Marie.
“So we just learned,” said Courinn. “The enchanted fabric of this realm is delicate and was ruptured by the bear’s attack. The trollogre’s presence could do the same or worse.”
Perion grinned at Courinn. “You sound more and more like the professor. Still, I thought we would be safe here. I’m sorry, Marie.”
Marie slyly glanced at Steavyn. “I’m not too sorry.” Perion caught the innuendo, raising a curious brow.
“It is time,” said Courinn. “Our humblest thanks, Steavyn. Just give the word.”
The three comrades joined hands, facing the direction they had come. But Marie strained her neck to look back at Steavyn, whose wings tightly folded together. As their eyes met, Marie saw in his face the same lonely ache she felt. She could not just leave him like this. She broke free of her friends and ran back to Steavyn, who also stepped forward as they inter-clasped one another’s fingers.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“If you wish to,” he said, “as much as I wish to see you.”
She hugged him, resting her head on his chest. “I don’t want to leave now.”
He returned her embrace. “You must.”
She looked up at him as if her next words were a promise she had to seal with her eyes.
“I’ll come back, Steavyn. Once I do what I have to do.”
“I’ll bear the hardest of days until then. But if you cannot come, I will find you.” Then he kissed her. Courinn and Perion watched, wide-eyed.
“Goodbye, Steavyn.”
“Never say goodbye, Marie,” he said. “Instead, think of what we’ve shared, until our next moment.”
She returned his kiss. “My real name is Emily.”
His smile, which he no longer for her sake allowed to be tinged with sadness, confirmed his approval of her name. His bright eyes sparkled, as if a final parting gift.
“Until our next moment, Emily.” A choking roar boomed all around them.
Courinn motioned to her. “Quickly, Marie, please!”
Marie took a deep breath and turned away. She took hold of her friends’ hands again. Perion stared at her. Marie ‘felt’ him, but she only looked forward.
“On my mark,” began Steavyn. He listened carefully to the trollogre’s oncoming progress. “Let her come a bit closer ... hold. Closer. Now!”
Marie shut her eyes as she jumped forward with Perion and Courinn. She was once more thrust into shadowy, spatial disorientation. Her stomach again leapt into her mouth. “I can’t do this a second time,” she pleaded, her voice already sounding queasy.
“You won’t have to,” reassured Perion. Seconds later, Marie felt herself upright again, followed by a great surge forward. She opened her eyes and saw that she and Perion were bestride Courinn in unicorn shape again.
She galloped furiously round the high-edged perimeter of the Faeriaye Hillock. The thick, humid air blasted against their skin as snow, then golden rain fell about them. Marie was so grateful the journey back to mortal ground would be smooth and quick. Her stomach already had calmed as the damp air quickly cooled. They descended back through the ghostly mirage of two merging spheres, leading downward along the great mounds’ spiral, interplanal passageway.
Nevertheless, the ghastly sounds of Gwylligwitch grew much louder. “She’s too close!” shouted Marie, “We’re going to run straight into her!”
“No!” said Perion. “It will be tight, but we should just miss the wretched beast.”
And yet, as Courinn rounded through the fifth pass, an immense, hulking shape came into view above them. It was luckily, as they hoped, not in the same spherical plane. Marie could see the trollogre appear to them now as a shadowy and dispersed form only, with an ethereal barrier separating them. Even so, she glared at her adversary.
“We’re past, but she’s coming back out!” shouted Perion. “Quickly, Courinn!”
Even as Courinn sprang forth with ever-greater speed, Gwylligwitch turned to them. She knew they were there and had no intention of letting them escape so easily. Ever since the trollogre came upon the bear corpse, she had caught their scent— yet this smell was familiar. The monster reckoned it must have been a mortal she had once caught and let live. There was something about this fresh, young one: something that drove the creature to pursue it right into the loathsome Faeriaye Realm. The troll beast also sensed a potency to this young mortal— a power that had not long ago inflicted deep wounds upon her, which she still suffered from. If that power still existed, she would find it and the one who now possessed it, and both would savagely die.
Halfway through the final pass, Marie suddenly cried out. A monstrous arm and many-clawed hand was now reaching towards them. It pierced through the segregated planes of enchantment, lucidly demonstrating that the strength and will of Gwylligwitch could not be denied. With every bit of force Courinn could muster, she sped the remaining distance. Marie and Perion leaned as far away as possible from the filthy, groping limb coming at them.
It was not enough. One of Courinn’s hind legs was abruptly seized, until she tore free a moment later. But it was sufficient to force a bone-crunching halt. Perion, again defying human physics vaulted off, landing in a well-managed shoulder roll. Marie screamed as her momentum viciously flung the young girl forward— alone, into yet a new plight.
Tilda’s legs stung with pain, but she pedaled on. She had been out of breath more than an hour now, so she continued on her bike in short bursts only. This was necessary anyway, since Tilda had to constantly keep watch around her. She had been evading all car headlights along Oak Tree Road since dusk. Ducked into the trees until they passed, she saw that each car was the sheriff’s men on patrol.
Once she had turned off the road and joined the interstate, it became much easier. She had hoped and was soon proven right that the sheriff’s officers would not be checking up and down here on a Tuesday night. Yet Tilda still had to take rests. She had never before biked this far alone and good stretches of the road and highway were hilly and twisty, as much of the Gulliver County region was. Pedaling alongside the southbound traffic in the dark may have been difficult, but Tilda Jentiss knew where she was going and was one hundred percent determined to get there.
She at last found the turn-off she was looking for. It was much farther away than she had thought, having come some twelve or thirteen miles from home. Tilda stopped twice, thinking she missed it, yet here it was: an old, unmarked service road that lead from the interstate’s jug-handle into the woods on her left. Tilda had been here only once before with her mother, several years ago. Nioma Jentiss had one morning drove to this area in a fury, proceeding to verbally— and very close to physically— attack a recluse young man who lived here in the woods. She raucously claimed he had been investigating and interfering in things he had no business concerning himself with.
Raynor Mifflin respectfully warned Nioma off his property or he would be notifying the sheriff. With much ranting, theatrical ravings, and a good measure of foul language, she at last left with a warning of her own: he didn’t want her to have to come back.
Tilda had heard the usual things about Mifflin through the years: the stories of a mad scientist that performed crazy experiments in his haunted home— experiments with the dead, said some. The townsfolk may have had serious disagreements with one another, but the one thing most agreed upon: Mifflin was out of his mind. Yet Tilda had also heard some very kind things about him, from those she had known were honest people. She knew he was a friend of the sheriff, so how bad could he really be? If Mifflin were up to no good, he would have been locked up long ago— but then, Sheriff Dan had not locked up her own mother yet ... .
She followed the service road through the woods. There were no lights. If not for the battery-powered flashlight she had wedged in her handlebars, it would have been pitch dark. Yes, she was in Spellhollow Wood at night, but Tilda kept reminding herself it was in the eastern, least haunted part. She silently hoped those stories were right.
“Enough already!” she protested aloud, coming upon more hills. She briefly halted at the top of one of these rises, catching her breath. Gliding down the next descent where the road bended to the left, she then saw a dim light ahead.
The light grew quickly as she emerged from the woods. Before her was the comfortable sight of a large house. But before she could advance closer, a blinding searchlight snapped on from the top window of the house’s widow’s walk structure. A moment later, a figure emerged from the woods, mere steps in front of Tilda, giving her quite a startle.
“Who are you?” the figure asked immediately, obscured by the dark.
“It looks like she’s alone,” said another voice behind her.
Tilda spun to see a second person standing there. “I’m not looking for any trouble,” she said. “I just need to see Mifflin.”
“Professor Mifflin,” said the boy in front of her, who stepped into the light. “Who are you?” persisted Zendara.
“I’m Tilda Jentiss,” she said, covering her eyes. “I have to speak to Professor Mifflin.”
“Tilda Jentiss,” repeated Dyllion into his radio, standing behind her. “She wants to see you, sir.”
“Tilda Jentiss?” came the sound of Mifflin’s voice over the radio, emphasizing the first name in curiosity. “How interesting. Show her in, please.”
“You gotta’ be kidding me,” said Tybain, watching Tilda enter the main library with the professor. “It’s the never-afraid-of-nothing chick,” he added, sarcastically referring to Tilda’s empty boast before she first fled the woods. Zendara and Dyllion followed them.
Tilda glared at Tybain in mock disapproval. He had a good-sized dressing and bandage on his left shoulder. “Who are you kidding?” she snapped back. “Band aid boy.”
Seated next to Tybain, Brage and Theel burst out laughing. Tybain nodded, approving her quick and witty comeback. “She’s got some attitude, though,” he said to Brage. “I like that.” Attitude or not, no one in the room could deny how attractive she looked, in spite of her vigorous bike journey, with her white dress and softly-styled hair.
“Everyone, this is Miss Tilda Jentiss,” said Professor Mifflin, taking a seat behind his desk. “Who has bravely ridden here alone, mostly in the dark, while cleverly evading the sheriff’s patrols. All so she could help us.”
“Help us?” said Brage.
“Bravely?” said Tybain. “Like I said, you gotta be kidding.”
“It would seem,” said the professor to Tilda, “Brage and Tybain have a definite opinion of you already.”
“I’ve never seen either of them in my life,” said Tilda.
“No, but we’ve seen you,” said Brage.
“Where?” asked Tilda, “When?”
Brage turned to Tybain, who nodded. Cupping their fingers over their mouths in a strange manner, they began making an odd noise. It sounded like eerie laughing.
Tilda recognized the bizarre sounds she, Bettyann and Trish had fret over, just before they ran out of Spellhollow Wood.
“That was you?” she scowled. “Did you fake the ghosts we saw too?”
“Your ghosts,” said Tybain, “were only the sun on some rocks.”
Tilda looked away, embarrassed. “You saw us tear outta’ the woods?”
“So brave,” added Tybain.
“That’s enough,” said Mifflin. “I think you’ve made your points. Are we going to cast stones at some mistakes Miss Jentiss has made?”
“No, they’re right, professor,” said Tilda. “It was wrong and I was a jerk. You won’t believe it, but I’m just beginning to see who I really am and what my life has been about. I don’t like what I’ve found.”
“Accepting that is sometimes the first step,” said the professor.
“If she will aid us in finding Perion,” said Brage, “along with Marie and Courinn, then we should welcome her help.”
“Yeah, will you help us find Perion?” said Dyllion.
“Explain to them,” said Mifflin to Tilda, “what you told me.”
Tilda cleared her throat. “I don’t know your friend, Perion, but if you let me, I’d like a chance to make up for the things I’ve done. I want to help find Marie, wherever she is.”
“What are you looking to get out of it?” asked Tybain.
“Ty, must you always be so cynical?” interrupted Mifflin.
“No, he’s right again. I came here because I hoped the professor could help me too. That’s the truth. I can’t explain everything now, but I kind of have something to do with what happened to Marie’s mother.”
The five boys quickly exchanged concerned glances. Tybain shook his head.
“She said she had something to do with the incident,” reiterated the professor. “Not that she was actually responsible for it.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said firmly. “But this afternoon …” She hesitated, with a sudden swell of emotion in her voice, “… the same thing happened to someone else pretty special to me. I want to do whatever I can to make sure people here stop going missing. Please believe me.”
No one said a word, yet each of their faces clearly expressed what they were thinking.
“I’ve always considered myself a fair judge of character,” said the professor. “In this case, I think it might be wise to give our guest the benefit of doubt.”
Zendara, Brage and Theel appeared to be open to this suggestion. Dyllion and Tybain were most obviously not.
“If she’s really come to help Marie, then let’s have her prove it,” said Zendara.
“Let her actions speak for her,” said Theel.
“Prove it or not, I still don’t trust her,” said Tybain.
Tilda quickly cast Tybain an icy stare.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “Tell me this, what would you do if the story were reversed? Would you trust me?”
“No, not you I wouldn’t,” she said.
“We agree on something,” said Tybain.
“Very well,” concluded Professor Mifflin. “Aside from a bit of typical distrust, we’ll agree on accepting the help of Miss Jentiss.”
“Professor, you can call me Tilda.”
Mifflin nodded. “Tilda it is.”
He turned to address them all. “Without a radio, we’re deaf to whatever troubles our friends might have met. Otherwise, Perion by now would have led them very close to the woods’ western edge. We must quickly get there, but to do that, we’ll need to maneuver past the sheriff’s blockade and patrols.”
He faced Tilda. “That’s where you’re going to assist us.”
She nodded. “Won’t be the first time I’ve run up against the sheriff.”
“When do we move out, sir?” said Zendara.
The professor stood. “I hope you’ve recently slept well, Tilda. We go tonight.”