Rise of Allies (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 4) (27 page)

Well, well,
Jake thought as he sat down again, astonished by what he had witnessed.
Looks like they found the spy, after all.

#  #  #

In another wing of the palace, Nixie was finding out the hard way that the Vindico spell wasn’t strong enough to banish Jenny Greenteeth.

Though it flattened Boneless temporarily, all it really succeeded in doing was enraging the hag. She got tangled up for a moment in the black cloak Nixie had draped over the looking glass to try to keep her out.

With a screech, she tore it off her head, then began chasing Nixie through the chamber, making glass shatter and chairs whirl violently around the room.

“Thought you could get rid of me, eh?” she cackled.

Nixie darted toward the door, passing Boneless, who floated in midair like a dried-out pancake, struggling to pop back into his three-dimensional blob form.

“Where do you really think you’re going to go, stupid girl?” the hag taunted. “There’s no escaping us!”

Sure enough, the moment Nixie flung out into the hallway, she heard the dire footfalls and bagpipe strains of the Headless Highlander.

“Oh, no,”
she whispered. She spun around just in time to see the kilted figure at the far end of the hallway exchange his bagpipes for his deadly claymore.

She drew in her breath as the Scottish warrior charged at her.

With a small shriek, she backed into her chamber and pulled the door shut with both hands; a second later, the claymore’s blade chopped through her chamber door like an axe.

Lifting her hands to shield her head and eyes from the unholy whirlwind of her possessions flying around the room, she inadvertently bumped into Boneless. Half of him was dry and crispy, but the half she ran into was as cold and slimy as ever. She shied away in revulsion, then realized Jenny Greenteeth was right behind her.

“Back so soon?” the hag asked sweetly, green algae dripping off her fangs as she smiled in Nixie’s face.

The Highlander kept chopping at the door.

Utter chaos overwhelmed Nixie. No longer could she hold back her screams.

“Help! Help! Somebody, help me!”

“Shut up!” Jenny Greenteeth knocked her off her feet with a small but powerful and foul-smelling whirlwind.

The next thing she knew, the witch was dangling her out the window by her wrist.

“That’s enough of that! Are you trying to wake the dead, girl? Perhaps you’d like to join them?”

“No! Please, please, no—I’m sorry.” Nixie flailed in terror as she saw the ground three stories below. “Put me back inside!”

“That spell of yours stung, you ungrateful brat. Try something like that again, and it’s nighty-night for you.”

“Just drop me if you’re going to kill me. Do it and get it over with!” Nixie wrenched out.

“Oh, but this is so much more fun. Nuckalavee, fetch!” The demonic witch swung Nixie with all her might and hurled her out into the darkness.

Nixie screamed so loud the Dreaming Sheep scattered in fear above her, but the real nightmare came galumphing across the lawn below to catch her.

Skinless, blood-red Nuckalavee, a bogey-beast of Scottish children’s nightmares, galloped across the lawn and leaped up, opening his gigantic mouth.

Nixie saw his gaping maw beneath her with its protruding bottom tusks and felt sure the monster would swallow her in one bite.

Instead, Nuckalavee caught her by the arm, holding fast to her with his rubbery lips rather than his razor-sharp teeth. The beast tossed her roughly onto the grass, breaking her fall rather than letting her die.

No, death would have been too easy.

The Bugganes had made it clear that they wanted her alive so they could continue toying with her like a mouse captured by a cat. How they relished tormenting her at their leisure for her “crimes.”

After throwing her aside like a rag-doll, Nuckalavee galloped on into the woods, where he had been lurking, Nixie suspected, in the naiads’ brook.

Through half-hysterical tears, she glanced back up at her chamber window and marveled at how high it was, how far she had fallen. But the hag had disappeared from the window. It seemed the Bugganes had had their fun with her for now. She finally remembered to breathe, though her exhalation came out sounding like a jerky, panicked sob.

She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Sitting in the tall grass, she struggled to calm herself and make yet another plan that was sure to fail, when suddenly, the winged sheepdog flew down to her and licked her cheek like she was a hurt lamb he was supposed to be minding.

The big, fluffy dog’s show of tender concern was more than she could bear. Nixie broke down crying and pushed him away. “Don’t be kind to me, stupid dog, whatever you do. They’ll kill you. Go away! Leave me alone.”

The dog whined and sat, but Nixie curled up and wept in despair, hiding in the tall grass with her arms wrapped around her bony frame. The Bugganes had promised they wouldn’t stop until they broke her spirit.

As of tonight, Nixie felt they had succeeded.

Maybe the Dark Druids were right about everything. Maybe the darkness really was stronger than the light.

Outnumbered and alone, hanging by a thread, she barely cared what happened to her anymore. Whatever light she possessed was flickering. Indeed, it was all but extinguished. And she was beginning to wonder if joining the dark side was the only hope she had for making her suffering stop.

#  #  #

You do your best all the time and it’s still not good enough,
Maddox thought, brooding as he walked across the dark meadow.

Lights flickered in the colorful lanterns ahead, and he stepped cautiously past the ring of toadstools marking the boundary of the fairy market.

It was said anything you might want could be bought here—for a price. After his humiliation today at the feet of Miss Isabelle Bradford, Maddox was wondering what
his
price was.

Perhaps, he mused, it was better to be rich and feared for his strength rather than penniless and deliberately noble for honor’s sake. What good was it being so handy in a fight if he was constantly required to hold himself back? How was that fair?

It was tiresome, especially when he was left looking a fool, like today, thanks to that brat, the Order’s precious golden boy.

Jake didn’t seem to realize not everybody owned a bloody goldmine.

Maddox sighed as he ambled through the market. Ah, well. At least he didn’t end up having to waste what little money he possessed on a set of new clothes.

He could not imagine what sort of nasty acids dragon dung contained, but as it turned out, the stuff stained. He’d spent most of the afternoon shivering on his knees beside the brook, trying to scrub it out of his clothes by hand. He had washed and rinsed his beloved black jacket and ruined twill trousers numerous times, until he had spotted a strange, hulking, blood-red creature in the brook.

Astonished, he had reached for his sword and stood to fight it in his long johns; but then a few beautiful water nymphs had swum by, giggling and pointing at him, as if he needed to be humiliated one more time today in front of females—with or without scales.

By the time the water nymphs had disappeared, so had the scarlet creature in the water. Well, there was no telling what manner of beasts might inhabit the woods around Merlin Hall.

He had gone back to the task of trying to salvage his clothes and was starting to wonder if he’d have to attend the rest of the Gathering naked, when the gnomes from his Assessment had brought him a fresh set of new clothes, nicer than the old.

He had been quite taken aback by this unexpected gift. He did not know where the gnomes had got the clothes from, perhaps they had sewn them for him themselves, but they fit. He had thanked the little fellows uncertainly for the gift, but they’d just stood there, staring up at him.

Gnomes, he had found out, really didn’t say much.

But then, neither did Guardians. So, Maddox had mumbled his thanks and put them on, relieved that he wouldn’t have to squander a chunk of his meager savings all because of Jake Everton’s prank. After all, he’d already sent most of the money he’d earned back home to his adoptive parents.

The notion, however, of spending a little bit of his money as he pleased had got him thinking…and so, he had come to the fairy market.

He didn’t really want anything for himself, but after his embarrassment today in front of Isabelle, he burned to get some of his pride back. He thought it might help him regain a measure of dignity in her eyes…those beautiful blue eyes…if he gave her some little gift.

Why he cared what the rich girl thought of him, he couldn’t say. He didn’t even know her. He couldn’t understand why he felt so drawn to her. He only knew that her father was a lord and would never approve of him.

And besides, of course, future Guardians were not supposed to get bogged down in silly, lovesick sentiments.

And yet he could not get her out of his mind.

Probably it was pointless, he thought as he strolled among the vendors’ carts and tents. What could you really buy for a girl whose wealthy father already gave her everything her heart desired? And if she already had unicorns, for heaven’s sake, what else could she want?

Probably nothing he could afford.

He only knew he didn’t want her to pity him, and he feared she did after his embarrassment today. By now, she probably saw him either as pathetic or a joke, but the right sort of gift might show her he was neither.

Still, Maddox was unsure if he should even be here. He knew about the dangers of buying objects from fae-folk.

On his guard, he wandered through the market, wary but fascinated by all the magical items on display. There were wands and potions; magic robes; magic pets in cages—homing pigeons, spying falcons, horned owls; magic mirrors; magic slippers; magic necklaces of all kinds; crystal balls; other glowing spheres whose purpose he could not guess; flying carpets; extraordinary clockwork gadgets; fully-trained Inkbugs; and a complete set of servitors for sale that changed from silverware into footmen and maids as needed. There were small pouches of fairy dust, exorbitantly priced, and tools of the trade for all the different varieties of talents in the Order.

As a Guardian, of course, Maddox homed in on the enchanted weapons and stopped to salivate over the highly prized Giant Silkworm body armor. Very rare, it was feather-light but impenetrable to bullets.

He tested an elven sword that could be made to glow in the dark when needed and serve as a torch; a crossbow that shot exploding arrows; a dart gun that never missed; and a shiny pistol with silver bullets expressly made for killing werewolves.

Amid the vendor stalls, fortune-tellers would read your palm for a shilling. There were many performers: strolling musicians, creepy clowns with trained animals, and grotesquely triple-jointed acrobats. Carnival games and contests drew in people everywhere; others stood around, laughing, as they watched.

Maddox waved off a barker who tried to coax him over to test his strength with a sledgehammer game. Instead, he wandered by a tanner’s stall, where he stopped and looked at the array of leather knife sheaths, gun belts and holsters, saddles, tack, and various types of bags.

The leatherworker’s fare looked pretty straightforward.

“So none of this is magical?” he asked.

“Most of it, no,” said the mysterious, pointy-eared merchant. “But you can always take it over to the witch across the way if you want a spell put on.”

Maddox nodded and continued perusing the goods, then whistled at the sky-high price on a tiny leather coin bag.

“Ah, you’ve an excellent eye, young master!” the merchant praised him, sidling closer. “You’ve found the most valuable piece in my whole collection.”

“Really? This little thing?” He picked it up and looked at it. “Why? What’s so special about it?”

The merchant lowered his voice. “That’s a Thief’s Purse, my brave lad. It comes with ten enchanted gold coins. Likely all the money you’ll ever need for the rest of your days!”