Free at last
30 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
Alaric held Odelia’s hand as they moved through the trees. According to her, Robin was there. It was just a matter of finding her. He frowned as a terrible sound reached their ears. With each step, the sound grew louder and louder. Whatever made it, they were getting closer.
Finally, they emerged into a clearing. There, in a cage of iron and flame, was a large lizard-like beast. It strained against chains that were coiled around its body.
With a startled gasp, Odelia ran forward. She skidded to a stop near the cage. “But, who would cage a dragon in such a way,” she wailed. She turned to Alaric as the beast looked towards her. “Can you free him?”
Frowning, Alaric stepped closer. “It’s a fairly standard imprisonment spell,” he said. Looking at the beast. “If I free you, will you attack us?”
The beast seemed to shake its head and then, it sighed and set its head down on the ground. It stared into Alaric’s eyes with wide, mournful eyes.
Alaric stepped forward. He awakened his staff and swung it towards the cage. It seemed to sweep away, the cage, flame and chains dissolving like dew.
The captives…
29 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
Robin startled when a sound like a terrible roar echoed through the dungeon. It seemed to shake the building itself. Where was she that there could be such a sound and no one would come to investigate?
The roars continued, then. They grew and shrank in volume. Sometimes, a single roar would last several minutes, other times, they were short. Soon, Robin realized that the sounds weren’t the noises of a ferocious beast that she had first thought they were. Instead, it was as if something – something large – was weeping.
The sounds broke off suddenly, only to continue again a moment later. Now, they were much softer. Clearly, whomever held her captive had grown tired of the sound and found a way to quiet the other captive.
The Weeping
28 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
Robin is kidnapped…
**
Robin hurried through the streets. She felt as though she were chasing shadows. Just when she thought she’d lost him, she would catch a glimpse of a form here or a hint of a shape there. Then, she would give chase once more.
She skidded to a stop as a solid brick wall came into view in front of her. There was no way he had come down this alley, unless something Ackerley gave him allowed him to fly. Frowning, she turned to retrace her steps.
As she emerged from the alley she’d run down, she saw another fleeting shadow. Growling, she peered down the next side alley. There was a form, crumpled on the ground.
Drawing her sidearm, she stepped over to the figure. As she feared, it was the man she had been chasing. His short blond hair was stained and matted with blood. His brown eyes were vacant and staring.
Scowling, Robin glanced around. A few feet away, there lay a shovel. The sharp end was stained with blood. Someone had struck this man in the head with the shovel. But, why?
Sighing in frustration, Robin straightened. She tucked the little firearm into the holster hidden up her sleeve and started back the way she had come. Whomever had killed him, she wouldn’t learn anything from him now.
Robin had hardly taken more than a step before someone caught her from behind. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other tightened around her neck. For a moment, Robin kicked and struggled against her attacker.
He lifted her off the ground, ignoring her struggles, as he carried her back the way she’d come. Robin tried to scream, but she couldn’t draw enough breath to make a sound. Her vision blurred and grew darker. It drew down to a pinpoint and she felt her limbs become too heavy to move. A moment later, she was tumbling into blackness.
Maybe… not a good idea
27 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
“There is, my lord, a fine line between bravery and stupidity,” Robin said, as they walked through the rapidly darkening street. “You’ve crossed that border so many times that they’ve stopped asking for your passport.”
Alaric laughed and shook his head. “Because I’m married to your mother?” he said, arching an eyebrow.
“Engaged,” Robin corrected. Then, she felt moisture on her arm and frowned. As she looked up, a large raindrop struck her on the nose. “Are you going to rain on us now?”
Gasping, Alaric caught her arm and drew her to the overhang of a building. “I’ll admit, she frightened me at first,” he said, shrugging. “But, now, I think she’s a very nice woman.”
“I think Cupid must’ve been a little bit drunk the day he shot you,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. She looked up at the overhang and frowned. “What’s this place?”
“Shelter?” Alaric said, shrugging. He looked up and then, his expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed this building before.”
Final scheduled appearance…
26 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum Tags: Bertram, Keenan
This should be the last time Keenan shows up, but… you never can tell with him.
**
Keenan woke to insistent pounding on the door to his bedchamber. He growled softly and rolled over. Most people would have called that they were coming. Others might roll over and pull the covers over their heads and ignore the sound. Keenan Meadows was not like most people. He took the third option, like he always did.
“Go away,” he shouted, without opening his eyes. He was exhausted. He had been every morning for the last week. It was strange, because he was certain he’d slept – and slept well. Why should he be tired?
He was on the edge of falling asleep when the knocking stopped. For a moment, Keenan relaxed. Then, the door creaked as it was opened. “Are you awake?” a soft voice said.
“No,” Keenan said, his voice hoarse. He heard Bertram sigh and moaned in response. Forcing his eyes opened, Keenan said, “I’m tired! Let me sleep!”
Bertrams’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “I’ve left you sleep for as long as I can, Keen,” he said, his voice soft. “You have a meeting with the sovereign in an hour. You need to be up and dressed and fed before that time.”
“Tram, that meeting’s not until noon,” Keenan said, sitting up. He frowned when he saw the sun, high in the sky. “Oh, my heavens. It’s really that late?”
“It really is,” Bertram said, nodding. He stepped back as Keenan flew off the bed and began pulling clothing out of the wardrobe. He watched Keenan for a moment longer. Only when he was certain that his friend wasn’t going to fall back asleep did he leave.
All’s Well, that Ends Well…
25 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
Upvalley gasped and looked at Trudy. “Now,” he said.
“Daddy,” Trudy said. She left the book that she’d been paging through and ran to the side of the couch. Ignoring his disheveled clothing, she climbed up onto his chest. “Wake up, Daddy!”
Innistree took a shuddering gasp. Then, he blinked at Trudy. It seemed to take a moment for him to realize what had happened. Then, he sat up, hugging the girl to him. “Trudy,” he breathed. “Thank the Creator! You’re all right!”
“Rory?” Upvalley said, his voice soft.
Blinking away tears, Innistree gave Upvalley a weak smile. “I knew it was you, Koby,” he rasped. “And I knew that you could get me outa there – away from him and ya did! And not a moment too soon, neither!”
“Are you hurt?” Upvalley said, frowning.
Shaking his head, Innistree said, “Ain’t nothing that a bit a rest won’t set ta rights. You were in time ta… stop his real plans. The rest was just to break me down.”
“Praise the Creator,” Upvalley said, sighing and shaking his head. “I daresay I haven’t been so frightened in all my days!”
And… now what?
24 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
“Surely you don’t feel that we can leave him like this,” Upvalley said, shaking his head. “Whatever might have happened in the last two years, he used to be a member of our staff and – and no one deserves…” he trailed off when she gave him a patient smile.
“I have no intention of abandoning him to this fate,” Umberley said. “After all, he has a daughter to look after. Hasn’t he?” She sighed and shook her head. “I said it merely to point out that the Head Librarian wouldn’t be pleased.”
“There’s no need to involve him,” Upvalley said, shaking his head firmly. “Waverley’s working on repairing the mirror. I can lift the curse. You can keep his condition stable until I’m able to do that.”
Nodding, Umberley said, “I can.” She knelt near him and frowned. “He’s deeply distressed. I wonder what is happening to him.”
“I may be able to answer that,” a soft voice said. Robin whirled around to find Peter standing in the doorway. [lovey] was bundled up in a sort of pack on his back, dozing quietly.
“What are you doing here?” Robin asked, shaking her head.
Shrugging, Peter said, “I did a reading. It indicated that I should be here to help.” His brows furrowed and he frowned at Innistree. “Now… I know why.”
“You can tell us what’s happening to him?” Upvalley said, his voice soft.
“By employing a bit of fae magic,” he said, nodding. When both of them looked doubtful. “It is, of course, entirely up to you.”
“Do it,” Umberley said, nodding.
No need to panic… yet
23 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
“My element is sound,” Upvalley said, shrugging. “Add to that, the fact that I’m not a combat mage and… yes, my staff is actually an instrument.” He played a chord and winced. After playing the chord twice more, he nodded.
“What is it?” Robin said.
“The mirror is cursed,” he said, frowning. “Also, that curse has been activated. Someone’s soul – or a portion of it, at least – is trapped in the glass.”
“So… breaking the mirror, shattered the soul,” Robin said, nodding.
“Unless the person cursed by it was a wizard, it would have killed them,” Upvalley said. He gasped and caught the box when the workman nearly dropped it.
The workman was pale and trembling, although it was impossible to know whether that was because he was holding a curse in a box or because he’d nearly killed someone Robin couldn’t say.
“Do be careful,” Upvalley said. His brows were knitted together, but there was no anger in his tone, only concern.
“Sorry, m’lord,” the man breathed.
“I’m no lord,” Upvalley said, shaking his head. He looked at Robin. “Do you know? Who was it that was hit by this curse?”
“I fear it was Master Innistree, Dr. Upvalley,” Robin said, her voice soft.
Upvalley nearly dropped his lute at her words. Recovering his grip, he said, “Of – of course. I should have guessed! Why else would you bring Trudy, but… Rory? Who would… Ackerley! Sweet Creation!”
A Shattered Soul
22 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum Tags: Gregory-M
“It’s grateful I am that ya said you’d help me out with this, Erik,” Gregory said.
Alaric shook his head. He watched as the workmen moved the large mirror towards the cart. It was beautiful, a piece of art on its own. “I just don’t understand why you’d want to be rid of it,” he said, glancing over at Gregory.
Shaking his head, Gregory shrugged. “I don’t care for it,” he said, his voice soft. “There’s naught more to it than that, I can assure ya.”
Nodding, Alaric looked back towards the workmen, just as one of them misstepped. What happened next was, while predictable, completely unavoidable. The man overbalanced, nearly falling. In order to catch himself, he let go of his end of the mirror. The end he’d been holding crashed into the ground. Alaric winced at the sound of shattering glass.
“Well,” he said, “I guess that takes care of that.” Smiling wanly, he turned back to Gregory. Chagrine turned to shock when he saw that the man was collapsed on the ground.
“Gregory,” he said, dropping to his knees. He touched Gregory’s neck. The pulse was still there, but it was weak. What had happened? The mirror broke… Alaric felt the color drain from his face.
Standing, he called, “Gather up all the pieces you can find. Pack it all up together and bring it to the National Museum.”
The workmen looked confused at the order, but they didn’t argue. Instead, they did exactly as he directed them. After all, it was very few people indeed who would argue with one of the nobles.
The Mystic Rose
21 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Crossover, Excerpt, National Museum
Alaric gets a little bit more than he bargained for…
**
Alaric moved through the streets, his gaze scanning the wares of the various vendors. Some people had hand-crafted clothing, whether it was in preparation for the coming winter or simply festive clothing. There were too many styles and colors of scarves for him to count. Everyone seemed to want to make hats and mittens to match them. Alaric ignored these. He had enough hats and mittens and scarves to last him until the end of time.
He searched the vendors stalls for a special toy for a very special child. Trudy, Gregory’s little daughter, was reaching the age where the winter festival would be a time she would remember. He wanted to find a toy for her – one that she would treasure and always remember from whom she had gotten it.
Alaric slowed as he reached the people selling toys. There were vendors with toys crafted of carved wood. They were lovingly painted by hand. However, Alaric knew that Gregory had found blocks for the girl. No, she wouldn’t need another wooden toy.
Other vendors had animals crafted of yarn and stuffing. However, Alaric knew for certain that she would be getting several toys of the same type from Gregory’s brothers and sisters. Jakob had gone so far as to knit the girl a doll by hand.
Sighing, Alaric moved on to the next vendor. His eyes widened when he saw the dolls that were set out on display. Their gowns were lovely, with bright colored satin and soft, intricate lace and ribbons.
He stepped closer and lifted one of the dolls into his hands. She had soft, light brown curls and blue-gray eyes. Her expression was slightly pouty. However, she was beautiful in spite of that expression. Her gown was crafted from red and white satin, with ribbons and lace. She had a straw bonnet with silk flowers and ribbons and lace to match the gown.
“Are you interested in my Madeleine, sir?” a soft voice said. The vendor was a strange little man. He was stooped, leaning on an old, crooked cane. His wispy white hair seemd to be flying all over the place, in spite of his hat.
Alaric looked up at the vendor and smiled. “Very much so,” he said, nodding. “I know just the girl to give her to.”
“Ah, a gift for the winter festival,” the vendor said, smiling. “For your daughter, sir?”
“The daughter of a friend,” Alaric said, shaking his head. He handed over a few coins. “That will be enough, I should think?”
“More than enough, my lord,” the vendor said. He started to reach for the money box, but Alaric waved him away. Nodding his thanks, the vendor said, “You are too kind, my lord.”
“Good day,” Alaric said, tucking the doll under one arm. He turned and headed back towards his town house. He could hardly wait to see the look on Trudy’s face when she unwrapped the doll.
