Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) (25 page)

Vagner nodded, tripping a finger over each string so it rang softly.

“All right,” Alaric said. He headed for the small window where he seated himself on the ledge. “Two octaves, probably tuned to the key of G…”

“You can tell that without looking at it?” Vagner said and blinked in admiration.

“Yes, I do have an ear for it,” Alaric said with a quick smile that rapidly disappeared under a furrowed brow. “So, if it is in the key of G, then G becomes the first, B is the third and D is the fifth. Pluck those three notes at the same time, and you have a base chord. Go ahead…”

Vagner shrugged and did so.
This is basic stuff,
the demon thought, but he could not give away his own knowledge just yet. So he resigned himself to being taught the simplest of chords and practice scales.

With luck, Tane would not be able to rid himself of the Greenfyn mageborn too swiftly…

TWENTY SIX

The room did not feel right to Alaric the moment he was propelled through the door. His initial search with mage senses produced nothing, but the feeling would not go away. He felt very uncomfortable and could not say precisely why…

But then he had found the circle of power embedded in the floor. Hidden as it was, he still felt its presence, and that discovery unnerved him even more. So he drew back to the window, wanting to concentrate and not daring to give himself away.

The child played her scales and followed his verbal instructions too well for one so young who supposedly knew nothing. He gave her a set of fingerings that produced a pattern of repeated sounds, and told her to sing something—anything. At the moment, he didn’t care what. He just didn’t want her to notice his distracted stage.

“There was a maid lived by the shore,

Her hair was like a raven’s wing,

And as she walked the sea strand road,

She gaily liked to sing…”

Alaric ignored the words. He closed his eyes, and with mage senses, he reached into the stone on which he sat, seeking its strong essence to assist him.

“When shall you come to marry me?

When shall I be your bride?

When shall the oceans bring you home

Across the rolling tide…?”

Stone’s essence flowed into Alaric. He used it to feed his own and to explore the floor with mage senses, seeking the origin of that invisible circle. He found it more swiftly than he though possible. Like wild fire, it sprang into view, revealing itself to his mage senses. He deepened his concentration.

The trunk took on a faint glow, as did the girl. She wavered before his magic vision like the flame of a candle in a draft, her outer form melting momentarily to reveal scales and fur and huge wings…and a frightfully familiar countenance much like the head of a wicked bat when her eyes rose to look at him in astonishment. Bitterness washed Alaric’s tongue.
Demon
!

It took all his best efforts not to moan in horror when he opened his eyes and found the face of the girl staring at him with the ferocity of a predator. Her fingers hung poised over the psaltery. Alaric caught his breath then cleared his throat.

“Very good, Vagnera. You would appear to have a natural skill,” he said and looked aside. He fought hard to keep his breathing and his voice from hinting the terror that gripped him in its cold hand. “Why don’t you try that lovely song again, and this time we’ll try a different pattern. First, fifth, third and up to eighth.”

He got up and paced, unsure of which way to go as the music began again. Only one door and one window, and Alaric doubted he could cast a flying spell well enough to use the latter. The instinct to flee grew hot, knotting his stomach. The girl—
the demon
—was watching him like a falcon following the progress of tender prey. Alaric took deep breaths, hoping to slow his frantic pace and thundering heart. Horns, he had to get out of here and she—it—was between him and the door. It was a wonder he had not wet his breeches in fear…

“Uh…excuse me,” he said, taking a wide berth for the door as inspiration dawned. “I really must go to the…garderobe… I think I drank too much water.”

Without missing a beat, the creature’s head turned to follow his ambling progress. Alaric moved far too quickly to snag the handle of the door.

The psaltery smashed against the wall just a few feet from his head. Alaric flinched away from the attack. He glanced back in time to see the girl springing towards him with lightning speed. Frantic, he seized the door and jerked it open, half stumbling in his effort to get out of the room. Her body struck the wood as he slammed the door shut. Alaric heard her scream like a raging beast and scrabble at the door. He let go of the handle and backed pedaled as fast as he was able, and stepped into a softer form that grunted.

“Hey!” Kellach said and stretched hands to grab hold of Alaric’s tunic.

Perhaps it was fear that fed Alaric’s reflexes. He had no time to think.
Call a spell…any spell.
Light was the easiest.

“
Solus
!” Alaric cried.

White light swelled in his hands. His attacker hesitated, unsure of what such magic could do, and hitched back. Precisely what Alaric hoped. He lashed out with a fist and punched the ferrety little man in the nose. Howling, Kellach stumbled back, grabbing his own face.

Alaric turned to run, only to feel hard weight slam him from behind. He sprawled to the floor, his startled yelp lost under the outraged snarl as the demon’s weight pressed him down. Only panic kept Alaric fighting now. The creature was small and strong, but for the moment, Alaric had the advantage of size. He drew one of his knees under him and pushed so he was thrown over on his back. The demon squawked in surprise as Alaric jerked free and left the creature floundering on the floor.

No sooner had Alaric gained his feet when a new threat presented itself. A wall of men…well, only two, he later reflected. But they were big men all the same who came at him with leers and angry curses. Alaric backed away, now faced with no place to run except back to that circular room. Maybe he would try to practice that flying spell.

But as he turned, an ankle clipped his own. Alaric fell, hitting the floor. With a moan, he turned and saw Kellach wiping a stream of blood from his ferrety face and wearing a weasel grin.

Alaric was unable to get to his feet before the extra pair of lackeys seized him in iron-strong grasps. He opened his mouth to shout for help, but Kellach made short work of the effort when the little man plunged a knotted fist into Alaric’s stomach. The blow hurt and Alaric’s vision swam as he doubled. He fought to breathe as a small hand seized his hair and jerked his head up. The child’s face wore a mask of dark rage.

“Put him in the trunk…
now
,” the demon said.

The trunk?
Alaric panicked.
No, not in the trunk!
Not there!
He kicked and struggled and swore to no avail. A hand clamped tight across his mouth kept him from screaming or fighting them with spells. They forced him back into the circular room. The demon pushed the lute aside and lifted the lid of the trunk. Alaric fought like a cat headed for a bath, using every physical weapon available to him, and still the numbers worked against him. At least, as they pushed him into that tiny space, before they could close the lid, he managed to scream.

Then darkness closed in, leaving him barking knuckles and knees against coffin-sized confines that refused to budge.

~

Horns and barbs,
Vagner groused as he tried to straighten out his hair and frock. This was not exactly going according to plan. The circle was supposed to have eliminated any worry that the young mageborn bard could escape the room. Oh well, at least they had him in the trunk now, and because of the spells Tane so carefully wove into it before their journey here began, no one would be able to hear Master Braidwine kicking and screaming himself hoarse. Those same spells would also prevent him from opening the lid or setting himself free with spells. Now, to get out of this filthy human dwelling. Granted, that part would not be so easy if Tane had not rid himself of the Greenfyn mageborn’s company.

Not my problem,
Vagner thought. As the demon hurried down the stairs, he could hear Tane’s voice raised in discourse with another.

“It is never wise, sir, to assume that all Haxons are stupid,” Fenelon said.

“They are naught but barbarians, sir,” Tane said. “Hardly worth a scholar’s time to write about…”

“But there will come a time,” Fenelon retorted, “when such histories will be needed. You mark my words. The Haxons are not fools, and any show of weakness on the part of the people of Ard-Taebh will be looked upon as an open invitation to full scale invasion. All it will take is one strong leader, smart, ruthless and charismatic enough to unite them.”

“Oh, and where do you suppose such a leader will come from? The Haxons themselves? They can’t stop fighting among themselves long enough to follow one leader…”

Hmmmm,
the demon thought. This could go on for hours. Perhaps Vagner would intervene. He stopped outside the door, looking down at his torn dress, and smiled. Spitting on his hands, and placing the moisture on his face so it looked like tears, Vagner backed away quietly. He took several deep breaths and began to make bawling sounds as he suddenly ran at the door. He had even managed to fake some full scale snubbing by the time he reached the door and burst into the chamber.

Both Fenelon and Tane looked up, and the latter almost lost his composure. Vagner ran full tilt across the room and threw arms about the bloodmage’ waist, and in the demon’s best childish whine, cried, “Grandfather, Grandfather, he said I was awful…”

Tane blinked in surprise. “Who?”

“Master Braidwine,” Vagner went on. “He said I was a stupid child, and I could never learn anything! Then he took my psaltery and smashed it and stormed out of the room…”

“Hold on just a moment,” Fenelon said. “Alaric broke your psaltery?”

“What happened to your dress?” Tane asked.

“I tried to stop him, Grandfather, but he pushed me away and I fell,” Vagner whined and hid his face in Tane’s chest.

“Perhaps I should go see what made Alaric do all this,” Fenelon said. “Striking a child is not like him at all…”

“He’s gone!” Vagner whimpered and tossed a guarded wink and a smile up at Tane who kept a straight face. Only a secretive hint of a smile marred the look. “He just went away!”

“Went away?” Fenelon said. “What do you mean, went away? Where did he go?”

Tane’s brows worked out of their amused arch. “There, there, child,” he said and turned a fierce glower on Fenelon. “I can see now that I was mistaken to have invited such a terrible person into my household. How dare he be so cruel to my granddaughter! I shall order him flogged and thrown out of Dun Gealach! I shall demand he be imprisoned…”

“Now, let’s not be hasty,” Fenelon said with a frown. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all this. Alaric is not one to display bad manners, and he is not one to abuse a child…”

“Are you suggesting that my beloved granddaughter, my sweet little Vagnera, is a liar?” Tane said, tensing with hostility. “How dare you! I demand you leave this place at once…”

“My pleasure, sir,” Fenelon said and started for the door. “I’ll just fetch Master Braidwine and…”

“But he’s gone!” Vagner wailed once more. “He went away!”

“Went away where”?” Fenelon repeated.

“Just away,” Vagner said and stamped one foot in a childish gesture of frustration. “He opened a big magic hole and…”

Fenelon stopped and spun back around. “A magic hole?” he said. “A gate? That’s impossible. Alaric is unable to manage a gate spell.” Vagner nearly cursed as Fenelon turned for the door again. “Alaric,” the mageborn shouted and made a sudden dash at the opening.

“Dorcus a’ dunadh!”
Tane shouted, and the door slammed shut before Fenelon could get through it.

Fenelon slammed a hand against the door and lurched back around, anger seething on his handsome face. “What have you done to Alaric Braidwine?” He started at them, raising hands as though about to cast a spell.

Tane pushed Vagner aside and wiped a hand across his own face as he muttered a reversing spell. Old features tightened and filled out with the strength of stolen youth. The beard melted away and the hair thickened and braided itself with a multitude of bone beads.

“Tane Doran…” Fenelon whispered.