The Sapphire Manticore (The Lost Ancients Book 4) Read online

  The walkway we had been in was large and elaborate, clearly a primary path for everyday use. The one Padraig diverted us to, after a quick look both ways to make sure no one was in sight, was dark, dingy, and reminded me way too much of the damn tower I’d just escaped from. Bunky’s buzz increased in hostility as we entered and I didn’t blame him.

  “Not another tower.” I’d muttered it under my breath but forgot elven hearing.

  “Surely you couldn’t have objected to the guest quarters Delphina had you placed in? I admit that unlike Alric I have never been beyond our shield, nor wanted to, but your world can’t be so wonderful that a room of such caliber is easily dismissed.”

  I stopped with my foot partially on a step. Was he joking? This stairwell was almost as narrow as the one I’d stayed in, and he was leading the way, so I couldn’t see Padraig’s face. But his voice sounded like we were talking about two radically different rooms. Once the shock wore off, I started walking again.

  “So I have Alric’s grandmother to thank for locking me in an ancient tower, with dried food, a hard bed, and some guards who tried to kill me?” I almost slammed into Padraig’s broad back since he stopped as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

  “What? I feigned unconsciousness once I knew it wasn’t Alric behind the murders. I have many people watching me, and it was important they think I was insane. I heard Delphina command the inquisitor’s people to put you in the Star Chamber, a large guest room on the second floor used for dignitaries.” He shook his head and resumed moving—even increasing his speed. “This is not good. I wish I’d been able to tell Lorcan this. That means they are growing too bold.” He picked up speed yet again and I scrambled to keep up with him.

  “Who are ‘they’?” Part of me didn’t want to know, but it might turn out my enemies were his—which would mean the reverse was also true.

  Padraig shook his head. “I can’t say out loud, they are all very powerful. But there are forces moving against us.”

  A few more silent turns and we came to a dimly lit landing. Even the faeries were quiet, which always made me nervous. The torches were glows, not fire, and their holders something any digger would love to find—they looked to have been from long before the Breaking.

  Padraig pressed on a seemingly random series of spaces in the center of the handleless door, and it swung open.

  The room before me was spacious, but everything faced away from us and when all of us were inside, the door swung shut and vanished into the wall. Even knowing it was there, I simply couldn’t see it.

  We were in the back area of a huge bedroom—the bed alone was easily half the size of my entire living room in Beccia. The rest of the furniture was equally large, but the whole space was sparsely decorated. As if the person who lived here, the old elf who I guessed was called Lorcan, had this grandeur thrust upon him, but didn’t want anything to do with it.

  Padraig led us out into the sitting room, where a nice fire was going, then crossed through the room to what looked like a wardrobe. Another series of taps and the door opened. The room before us wasn’t a wardrobe, but a cozy little chamber filled with an amazing selection of books, a huge desk, and a pair of softly faded chairs.

  He motioned for me to sit, and Bunky followed as I took over a large armchair. The faeries were still quiet as Bunky settled on the arm of the chair and they climbed down off him. They were watching Padraig, and even Garbage looked sad.

  “Is broken.” Leaf climbed down off the chair and ran across to where Padraig was sitting down. She scampered up his leg, ran to his injured side, and patted it. The formerly immobile skin shimmered a tiny bit.

  Padraig gently picked her up, but there was a look of wonder on his face. “I’ve heard of them, but to tell you the truth, they seemed more like stories for children.” He frowned a bit and gently touched Leaf’s wings. “But can’t they fly?”

  Leaf curled up and sat in his hand looking quite happy with herself. Not to be outdone, the other two climbed up to join her.

  “They can, and up until yesterday they could. There was an explosion—caused mostly by them—of a possessed knight. Aside from a brief bit by Crusty, they haven’t flown since then.” Bunky purred in agreement, at least I assume that’s what it meant. His vocals were limited to purrs, buzzes, and a humming growl. At least to me. The girls seemed to understand every noise he made as words.

  Padraig held Leaf up closer, gently moving her wings around. Then he picked up Garbage and Crusty and did the same. “They seem to move fine, there doesn’t appear to be anything broken.” He looked up with a smile. “I am a scientist. Be aware that I will find a way to fix our little friends.” He started rubbing them all between their wings. I wasn’t surprised when we had three purring, if still not yet flying, faeries a few minutes later.

  Even though he smiled as he petted the girls—it was hard not to, they could be adorable when they tried—the look of sadness never left his face.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I really didn’t know what else to say. Judging by when Flarinen and his men left the compound to hunt down Alric, the attack couldn’t have happened too long ago.

  “Thank you,” he said as he kept his focus on Crusty’s wings. “Three people besides Gastia died. They were all strong magic users. I was the only survivor. If I wasn’t the level of magic user I am, I would have died as well.” He shook his head and his long hair covered part of his face. “I’m still not sure why they had to kill them, or try to kill me. There were two others besides the one wearing Alric’s face, but they remained cloaked. I caught a brief glimpse of one, but I didn’t see enough of them to recognize. They could have taken the gargoyle and fled. But they didn’t, they kept asking where the weapon was.”

  I’d gotten a brief taste of Padraig’s magic, but I figured anyone who survived what four other magic users didn’t was probably powerful. “A weapon? Like the gargoyle?” I really wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but as it involved that stupid gargoyle which I’d inadvertently brought into the world, I felt somehow responsible.

  He raised his head. “We don’t have weapons, nothing beyond swords and magic, things they would have as well. Our only unique weapon is defensive, it’s our shield. We don’t have anything else. However, they insisted we were making a weapon to destroy them. We didn’t even know who they were.”

  Oh crap. The shield. “Padraig, did anyone talk to Alric? Beyond this whole taking blood thing?”

  “Not that I know of. There are layers of deceit starting to form in the castle. We don’t have enough information yet to know exactly who the traitors are—they have been hidden very well. I fear they are deep within the powers of our land. After the attack, Lorcan and I decided I could find out more by pretending to be mentally unstable. People speak more freely among individuals they discount.” There was a bitterness there that told me being discounted was not something he was accustomed to.

  “We have a problem then,” I said as I thought about everything that had happened in the past day and the fact that even now scaffolding might be going up to hang Alric. “Okay, we have a bunch of problems. There’s one your people don’t know about, and I don’t know that Flarinen would have told anyone yet. We were attacked by a mage right at the shield perimeter and he got squished into the shield when it shut on him.” Squished wasn’t very scientific but I wasn’t sure what you called being smashed into nothingness and swirling throughout a magical barrier. By choice.

  Padraig’s face changed at that and he stopped petting the faeries. “What do you mean, squished into the shield?”

  I explained it the best I could, including the attack by the rakasa and the mage who was there but wasn’t there. I didn’t tell him the part about me being able to stick my hand through the shield. I wasn’t sure what his people would do to someone who could do that, even if it was a fluke. I thought Padraig was one of the good guys, but I had just met him after all.

  He got up and paced. It hadn’t been noticeable when
I’d seen him walk before because I was focusing on other things, but he had a slight limp, favoring his right side. Whatever that Alric-look-alike mage had done to him, it had hit his entire side.

  “There were theoretical exercises on this in school. Shields are based on a harmonious balance of energies—even a personal shield is all about balance. If someone were to contaminate the shield itself, from within….” His voice faded off as he wandered about in his thoughts.

  I gave him a few moments of silent contemplation, then broke in. “So what do we do about it? The goo was heading this way. It could be here by now.” I had no experience with shielding, that high level of magic, nor goo made up of suicidal mages.

  “Goo?” He gave a crooked smile, the type that looked like it had been that way long before he was attacked. “Nice term. I wish Lorcan were back, he needs to know of this before we do anything. But he is going to be busy trying to delay Alric’s execution.”

  For a brief time I’d almost forgotten that some frail old elf was all that stood between Alric and death. I jumped to my feet. “Look, I’m not sure what this Lorcan is going to be able to do.” I picked up all three faeries. “He’s someone important, I get that. But either Alric’s grandmother has been duped or she’s in on this.” I went to go where we had come in, but there was only a bookcase. I spun back. “And wouldn’t high and mighty elves have a less brutal way to kill someone? And how do I get out of here?” I started pushing books. Bunky buzzed next to me and I dropped the girls on his back.

  Padraig’s laugh was rusty; clearly he hadn’t used it since the attack. But I had a feeling he was a somber person to begin with. “Delphina won’t let her favorite grandson be harmed. I’m sure the call for a hanging is simply to see if we can get more worms to come out.”

  He had been standing, then reclaimed his chair and held out his hand toward the faeries. The little traitors jumped off Bunky and drifted down to him. Not really flying, but they were using their wings. Bunky, at least, was loyal to me. He stayed in the air near me and buzzed at Padraig in what I was sure was a menacing manner.

  “Such a brave construct. You are an excellent protector for her and your small companions.” Padraig beckoned toward the arm of his chair. With a purr toward me, Bunky flew right over and sat down.

  “Thanks, you guys.” I was busy feeling abandoned so it took a second too long to realize Padraig was going to pet Bunky.

  “I wouldn’t do that. He really packs a punch.” I shut up as Bunky started purring from Padraig’s petting. Seriously? Everyone else could touch him except me?

  “Surely he doesn’t bite? Constructs were rare long before the Breaking. The making of them came from what we found from the Ancients. But one such as him wouldn’t have been made as a weapon.”

  I gave up and trundled back to my chair. At least it was far more comfortable than anything that had been in my tower room. “No, he doesn’t bite, but sometimes people get strange images from him when they touch him.” Okay, so as far as I knew I was the only with that problem, but it sounded better if others were involved.

  Padraig lifted Bunky up and looked him over, but Bunky seemed to think it was a game and purred harder. “That could be. Many of the ones I read about were used for information gathering; it could be that you triggered it somehow when you touched it.”

  “That was what I…wait. I didn’t say me.”

  Padraig flashed another real smile. “You didn’t have to. Your reaction when I was going to touch our friend here indicated that you had intimate knowledge of what might happen.” He leaned forward and I almost had the feeling he wanted to pick me up and see what I was made of just as he’d done with the faeries and Bunky. “What have you seen?”

  “Really nothing, simple images of someone’s life. Pretty boring.” I shook my head. I was sure they meant something, but the idea of going through them again wasn’t fun. “Now about why they won’t kill Alric—just who are his grandmother and Lorcan? Please do not tell me Alric is some kind of prince?” I shuddered. That would be perfect on top of everything else—if I fell for a prince.

  Padraig’s snort of laughter startled Bunky into flying up to the ceiling and the faeries to pull back in concern. “Alric? Royalty? No. A royal pain in the ass sometimes, but no, he’s no more royalty than I am. His grandmother is the council matriarch. She did raise him for the most part since his mother died when he was quite young. And she’s tough; she would have sent him to be killed had he actually been the one who attacked me. But she wanted to see who would try to betray Alric.”

  He got up and poured two glasses of clear golden-green liquid and handed me one. “This might help take some of the edge off.” Then he settled back down in his chair. “As for Lorcan, he is the primary advisor to the king and queen, and a fair magic user in his own right. If he decides to hinder them trying to hang Alric, they will be hindered. Extremely.”

  The drink was cool even though the bottle had been sitting on a stand. It was hard to describe, a far deeper taste than I was expecting but not harsh like some of Foxy’s stronger brews. It left a warm tingling sensation that started at my extremities and worked its way inward. Before I realized it, I’d finished the glass.

  “Better?” Padraig held his glass in his hand untouched and was watching me with a far too thoughtful look on his face. Covey got that look when she was studying something.

  “Yes, actually. It’s been a long couple of days.” I shook my head. “Weeks, really.” I looked up in time to see all three faeries slide into the decanter of alcohol. “You probably don’t want them to do that.” The girls pretty much stuck to ale for their imbibing pleasure, so I had no idea what this new beverage might do to them.

  Padraig made a move to grab the decanter, and then shook his head. They were already swimming in it. “Well, Lorcan won’t be happy about his prize nectar becoming a swimming pool. But he will be fascinated by it.” He winked. “And even though he denies it, I know he has more hidden.”

  The girls were having a grand old time, drinking and splashing. “Nectar?” I looked into the bottom of my glass. Covey had told me stories of nectar, but she didn’t seem to think it was alcohol. She was seriously wrong. My fingers seemed ready to float about on their own.

  “Is it supposed to do this?” I held my hand up, but it wasn’t moving the way it felt.

  Padraig sat his glass down. “Do what? What are you feeling?” The concern on his face, even the injured side seemed to show it, was freaking me out more than the weird feelings. My heart was racing too.

  “Taryn? Stay with me.” Padraig was suddenly at my side, holding me up. I didn’t recall sliding out of the chair, or him moving.

  I didn’t know if Padraig had poisoned the nectar, or I was just having a bad reaction. It wasn’t a dragon bane reaction, more of an anti-dragon bane reaction. As if everything that was me was just fading away. “Girls. Get the girls.” The faeries were far hardier than I was, but if it was poisoned, we needed to get them out of there.

  “They’ll be fine, everything is fine.” Padraig leaned close and held a glass to my lips. “Drink this.”

  I tried to push it away, but my hands wouldn’t move. Soon more liquid was flowing down my throat and the world went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When I had first moved to Beccia, a traveling troupe of performers came to town. There were storytellers, musicians, and jesters. Garishly made up, these men and women roamed around insulting watchers for laughs.

  I hated them and when I drink too much, I see them in my dreams.

  I heard them now. My eyes wouldn’t open, and I couldn’t move. Padraig must have spelled me after he knocked me out. The laughter and screams of jesters were just a bonus. I listened to see if I could hear anything else, but nope. Just screeching and hooting.

  “I think she’ll come out of it on her own,” a female voice, one that seemed vaguely familiar, cut through the screeching. She sounded right next to me, and yet far away at the same time. Wh
atever had been in that nectar packed a punch.

  That must have made the jesters in my head happy—the laughing got worse.

  “I do love those little things, but I think in the future we shall endeavor to keep them from drinking the nectar,” Lorcan said—thus ruining my hope that he would save me.

  “There really was no way to know how their physiology would react,” Padraig said. He sounded far away and hopefully he was. Once I figured out how to open my eyes and get my arms to move again, I was going to make sure he knew who he was dealing with. “They’ll come out of it eventually.”

  More raucous laughter. I realized the sounds in my head weren’t the jesters of my memory at all, but my own faeries. Drunker than I’ve ever heard them. Usually they lost consciousness before this point.

  “Are you sure she’ll be all right?” Lorcan again. Must be in cahoots with Padraig and had something evil in mind for me. Something that required I be okay first. Even in my numb mind that made no sense.

  “She’ll be fine but there is something about her that caused the reaction. If I could just touch her.” The woman’s voice came closer. She sounded old and young at the same time. Moreover, unlike Lorcan and Padraig, who now sounded more like themselves, she still sounded both near and far.

  I focused all my energy on opening my eyes. If I was going to be the victim of some horrible experiment, I wanted to see who was going after me.

  I got them open in time to see a hand right in front of my face and coming at me. I screamed and the hand, followed by the arm and the rest of the woman, went right through me.

  “Siabiane! What are you doing?” Lorcan looked flustered when he ran forward.

  “I misjudged.” The ghost-like woman pushed herself up through me and went to her feet. “And she startled me. Hello, dear. Good to have you back. I told these two worrywarts you’d be fine, but men never seem to listen, do they? And I will say, I agree with them you had an odd reaction to the nectar. I’ve ordered a full study of what was left in the bottle. Not a lot after your little friends got at it, I’m afraid.”