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Nothing up my sleeve...
Dead yet?
...Hello?
Hunh. No answer. No signal either, judging by the texts bouncing back to my phone undelivered. These phones worked anywhere on Terra, which meant either another version of me was dead or I had gone off-worlding again. Since I had yet to receive a shiver of cold memories, I was guessing the latter was true. If I were in his place, I would have taken the girls back to my place as it guaranteed safety.
"So if Wolf wasn't at his house of horrors, where is he?" I asked the sword, tucking my phone away in surrender as I leaned back on my bed. The wire frame and old springs squealed in protest at the shift in weight, but quickly settled down.
“I do not know,” she said, forlornly looking out the window. The view was pretty marvelous, at day and at night. For being a paranoid shrimp, Sparrow didn’t skimp on presentation. It’s one of the reasons I chose this space to be my ‘room’ in the castle; Sparrow let me have it after it became evident I was going to keep coming back to the castle.
The whole of the room had been used as a sort of catalogue of my exploits; Japanese storage boxes rested on top of a dresser I bartered for in Kaupang. Romani tapestries hung limply between frames containing artwork from across Europe's history, the collection so vast you could barely see the stone walls beyond. Things I had stolen or bartered for over the centuries littered the room as decorations, including one of my linked wardrobes leaning against the far corner.
We had come back here to regroup; I was one weapon short of my goal, and had no clues in how to progress. Neither did Grace, unfortunately.
“I wish I could help you further,” she said, turning her green eyes back to me. “But I have no more of the story. For that, you must ask them.” Stretching her hand out, Grace gestured to the other weapons on the floor.
“What would that do?” I asked, watching her drift around the room.
“They’ve been active longer,” she said, admiring one of the fresco paintings. “I’ve been guarding Layla since she ran away from home, remember?”
“Right.” I took a glance towards the wardrobe. The bow and Jules’ sword were still in there. Gidel’s staff hadn’t said a word since Grace picked her up, making me wonder if all the weapons truly had sentience or not.
Staring at the wardrobe reminded me of Jamie’s message. Rut hadn’t contacted me yet, meaning he hadn’t managed to figure anything out. Or possibly he did what I asked and contacted the wrong clone, the automated blockhead. Whatever the reason, I didn’t have the message and so couldn’t act. I couldn’t do anything further with the portals, either, because I didn’t have Wolf’s sword. If I couldn’t manage to get to Wolf, I’d have no progress to report to Olyvia. Both of my quests had shuddered to a halt, and so I had very little choice. I would have to ask the other weapons.
I opened the doors to the wardrobe, cold black expanse greeting me and causing a shiver to run down my spine. Reaching in with one arm, I kept the other hand firmly anchored to the door. Couldn’t help anyone if I got lost in the expanse again.
My hand groped around for a moment, trying to find the weapons by feel. The wardrobe, much like my hat and pockets, responded to my desires. As long as I wanted the bow and sword, they’d eventually find me.
Something smooth and cold brushed up against my fingers and I snatched at it, thinking it was the grip of the bow. Pulling it free, I found a small vial of blood clutched tightly in my hand. Curious as to why the wardrobe had given me this instead of what I actually wanted, I took a glance at the label covering one side. The marker had smudged a bit, but I could make out enough to see the name ‘Caine’ scribbled in thick letters.
Odd. Caine was the name of a young elven boy taken in by an old friend. I didn’t remember him being particularly gifted or unique in any way. Generally that was the only reason I took blood samples, with exception to marwolaeths. The antidote to their bite was drinking a bit of their own blood, so every time I met a new marwolaeth, I’d find a way to steal a bit of their blood and bottle it away for future use.
But Caine wasn’t a marwolaeth; not in any way I could detect, at the very least. So why would I have...
Dammit, pay attention.
With a sharp shake of my head, I pocketed the blood for further inspection and stuck my hand back into the abyss. I concentrated more specifically on what I wanted, and in a few minutes, I had pulled both magical weapons from the expanse.
Laying all four weapons out on the carpet in front of me, I settled down in front of them with a groan “Alright kids,” I said, scratching at my arm. “I need to figure out where Wolf’s gone. Who feels like talking?”
Silence.
"This can't go on forever. You've got to talk to me if you want my help."
I realized I was still scratching and yanked my hand away, sitting on the offender. I glanced down at my elbow to see what the damage was, and felt my stomach drop at the sight of exposed scales.
Damn.
I needed some sleep. My price was catching up to me, humanity peeling away from me like dry skin.
The bow suddenly lit up, oil-stained light spilling over one of the woven tapestries. Lilting childish laughter haunted the room and a new voice began giggling. "No One— Wants— To Talk— To You."
I felt my stomach twist further. Disembodied voice. Ghostly. I hated dealing with ghosts. I knew she wasn’t one, but any inanimate object suddenly turning animate is suspicious. At best.
"Uh oh...you Don't— Want— To Talk— Either?" The voice rose and fell in pitch as she talked. "Did I— Scare You?"
"Stop talking, Lyra." The crystal sword flickered as it spoke, ultraviolet light seeming cold and bitter.
Wait a minute. I recognized that voice.
"Cronoth?" I asked, leaning over and looking down at the claymore. "You’re the guy that got Olyvia sniffing after Afanasiy."
The bow's creepy haunted laughter bounced around the room again, the light moving in rainbow-like waves upon the walls.
"You Made— The Wolf— Alpha– Mad.” Lyra giggled. “He Won't Forgive— You For– Playing Them."
"A calculated risk," the sword responded, UV light pulsing in the center of the giant crystal blade. Apparently Cronoth, the manifestation of Jules' claymore, had resigned itself to being part of the conversation. "If it gets us home faster, the action will have been worth the risk."
“Not to me,” I countered. “Olyvia’s life is my responsibility. You put her in danger.”
"I presented her with the proper information needed to take action. The conclusions she drew in response to such information happened to be hers and hers alone."
"Don’t give me that. You and your witch paralyzed the three of us and fed us information you knew would send us into a fight. Was any of it even true?”
The bow giggled again as she taunted, "You—u're In Trou—uble."
"Ok, which family member is that, and why is she being creepy?" I asked, pointing at the bow and looking up at Grace.
“Lyra,” Grace responded, lowering herself to the floor. “The bow belonged to Lady Grace, but it enjoyed the company of Lady Lyra.”
"Who?"
"Layla’s mother," Grace answered with a small, sad smile.
“It is not Lady Lyra,” Cronoth interjected. “Not anymore. The bismuth material has been corrupted. I doubt if it even knows who any of us are.”
The giggle continued, growing in tandem with the bow’s light. The colors drifted along the walls, as if Lyra was searching for something. She settled on the copy of Glidon's journal, the leather-bound book resting where I tossed it on the bed.
“Taake Iit,” the bow whispered.
Tossing an unsure glance at the strange weapon, I retrieved the journal and sat back down, flipping through the pages. The text was still in Koanni. I glanced up at Grace, her pale face expressionless.
“Thetextthetextthetextthetext,” Lyra chanted. “Openitopenitopenitopenit.”
“It’s already open,” I said slowly, tilting the pages to face the bow. “But I’m Terran. I can’t read this.”
“Readitreaditreadit.”
“I don’t understand it,” I repeated. “I can’t read your language.”
“I told you,” Cronoth sighed. “It’s corrupted.”
The light flared, turning into a sharp rainbow as it focused on the very edge of the journal. I felt a slight tugging downward, like a child trying to get my attention.
Following the gentle pulls, I tipped the journal forward and the beam widened to cover the yellowing paper. The pages began flipping as the bow leafed through the journal, hesitating once or twice before resting on a particular page.
The light drew back, condensing on a single paragraph near the bottom of the page. The section Lyra highlighted began to blur, watering down into fresh ink and reshaping itself. The black lines moved around, quickly reassembling themselves into Terran.
"The war has become too great," the lines stated. "Too violent, too dangerous; The armies of the other continent are strong, their marwolaeth soldiers chaotic; They overwhelm us; We can no longer hold them from our borders; They have begun to find ways into the Earth; To find the alphas and solidify their rule over the clans; I cannot allow this; I must close the barriers between worlds; I must keep them safe."
"So that's why he closed the earth off," I whispered, looking up at Grace. "It wasn't a civil war between the marwolaeth clans that was worrying him. It was a Koanni war spilling over into our world."
"He thought it was for the best, at the time," Cronoth's voice echoed. “There was too much at stake.”
"If that’s the case, why the sudden urge to break open the portals?" I asked. "Why are you guys trying so hard to get back home?"
“The fight is growing desperate,” Grace answered in a hollow voice. “The elves are losing. They need reinforcements. They need us.”
“How do you know what’s going on in Koanni,” I asked, “when you don’t even know where Wolf is?”
“Wolf sends messages to us through his own,” Cronoth answered. “Silver has been too busy protecting Layla. I took the messages when she stopped. We can no longer wait on the foxes. The time to act is now.”
With a sudden, jolting scream, the oil-stained light flared and blinded me. I scrambled backward, instincts taking over as I tried to get away. I expected to hit the wall in my mad dash and braced for impact.
Nothing.
I fell backward, rolling to my side and attempting to blink the stark colors from my vision. Lyra’s light went out as fast as it flared, revealing my new surroundings. My stomach dropped as I recognized this place; I was back in the rust-colored forests of Koanni.
Ice-cold breath drifted across the back of my neck and I bolted forward, spinning and reaching a hand into my pocket. Nothing was behind me except more trees. They clustered around me, bristling at my presence as the wind whispered rumors at my appearance. A clear waterfall giggled nearby, a little river cutting through the forest and wandering off into the middle of nowhere. Everything around me grew distorted by the suddenly-vibrant purple sky, things beginning to fade in and out of sight like a dream.
On the other side of the river, fading into existence was the shape of a tall, lanky woman who grinned at me with a warm smile. Hair fell down to her shoulders in a black sheet, cut at a sharp angle as it reached her knobby shoulders. A brown hunter's vest covered her torso, thrown over a tight black shirt stretching from neck to wrists to hips. Her matching black pants were the same, capturing her figure in complete shadow and making it harder to see anything other than her hands, feet, and face. Silver-tinted leather bracers hugged her forearms from wrist to elbow, and knee-high boots stuck to her shins like a second skin.
Her brown eyes glittered at me as she smiled, face full of innocence and warmth. She placed her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels. "Sorry about that," she apologized. I recognized her voice the moment she spoke.
"Lyra?" I asked. "You're...Lyra?"