The League of Illusion: Destiny Page 9

  “I’m not in the way, am I Sebastian?”

  “No.”

  “You see?” She gave Jovan a look. “Now, I’ve never seen someone do a reverse scry before where the focus is elsewhere. Can you do it in water as well?”

  He shook his head. “It’s more difficult. The reason I can do this is because the focus was forged in fire. It has a connection to it.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Sebastian took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to clear his mind. This was difficult considering all that had been crammed into it in the past hour. Resting his hands on his knees, he stared into the dancing flames. He concentrated on the medallion, a piece of his family’s history, pictured it in his head.

  At first he saw only the red and orange flickering of fire. Then a shape formed in the flames. A circle. Then a circle of silver with two crossed swords. He stared at it, envisioning what was around it. Searching for whoever held it. There came a flash of something else. Another image. Mountains. There were mountains holding the medallion.

  Then the flames shot out at him and he had to shrink back or get burned. Skylar jumped to her feet and ran back to stand with Jovan. He put his arm around her protectively.

  “What did you see?” Rhys asked. “Did you see your woman?”

  Sebastian got to his feet. “I saw mountains.”

  “The Lonely Mountains,” Claude said. “They are a seven-hour ride at best.”

  “Can you show us the fastest way, Claude?”

  The tinker nodded.

  “Before we go, we’ll need some weapons.” Sebastian eyed Claude. He shrugged and gestured for them to follow him into the smithy.

  It was still without a roof. Claude had draped leather canvas over top to keep the elements from getting in. Despite that, there were several puddles inside from the last rainfall. Sebastian stepped over them, as his master opened a hatch in the floor and beckoned them to follow. Sebastian had always known about Claude’s secret workshop, but had never breached his privacy by venturing inside.

  They all climbed the ladder down into the room. It was pitch black. But Jovan immediately fixed that by creating a ball of witchlight.

  Claude’s eyes widened at the green iridescence. “Not bad.” He ran his hand along the rock wall and flicked a switch. Lamp after lamp lit up around the room.

  Jovan smiled. “Impressive.”

  It was impressive, as was the room. Every table and shelf was jammed full of metallic objects and contraptions. Some, the bigger pieces, were on the dirt floor.

  “Reminds me of Mrs. Chattoway’s secret lair.” Miss Stratton reached over and took Rhys’s hand.

  He nodded, with that faraway look of his.

  Sebastian picked up an odd device from one of the tables. It looked like a pistol, the ones used back in London, but with an extra burnished cover and a switch along the handle. “How long have you been inventing, Claude?”

  The metalsmith curled his lip in thought. “As far back as I can remember.”

  “Why don’t you sell these things or show them to people?”

  “Because most folks think I’m crazy as it is.” He took the pistol from Sebastian and set it back down on the table. “Now what I can I get you?”

  “Something to help me take down the morrigan.”

  “Have you seen it?” Claude asked.

  “I got a glimpse the other night, but nothing registered. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, exactly.”

  The blacksmith rummaged through a large pile of metal pieces. He tossed out a few. Sebastian bent over and picked one up. It looked like a chest piece for a suit of armor. Claude scrambled out of the pile with two more pieces. He held them down at Sebastian’s legs.

  “A suit of armor?” Rhys asked. “How is that going to help? Is he going to joust with the morrigan?”

  Claude gave Rhys a scathing look. “It’s more than just a suit of armor. This metal is impenetrable.” He gestured for Sebastian to hold the chest piece up to his chest. The blacksmith then grabbed an enormous mace and swung it full strength at him. The iron spikes bounced off the chest plate without making a dent. “No matter how hard I hit, or what I hit with, this metal will not bend or break.”

  “So it will protect me from her blows, but what I need is a weapon to kill it with.”

  Claude moved to the very back table that was along one wall. He selected a large piece from the multitude of devices and brought it over. It looked like an army rifle, but with a flared metal piece on the end of the barrel. It also had coiled brass wire around the barrel. The stock was made from wood and had two brass coils coming out of it, connecting to a separate piece, which was secured inside a leather satchel. He handed it to Sebastian.

  “What is it?”

  “I call it a blunderbuss.”

  Sebastian inspected it, looking for where the gunpowder and metal bearings would go. “What does it shoot?”

  “Lightning.”

  Everyone looked at him in surprise.

  “Lightning?” Rhys asked. “From the sky?”

  Claude shook his head. “Homemade.” He opened the leather satchel and showed them the glass orb nestled delicately inside. Within the glass was a metal coil. “Flick a switch, and the coil spins, making sparks, which in turn creates a strong energy that can be harnessed and directed through the blunderbuss.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “You’re a genius, Claude.”

  “I know.” He looped the satchel’s strap over Sebastian’s shoulder. “You need to be really careful with the coil. If the glass breaks, no more lightning. No more power.” He glanced at the others. “Now for the rest of you.”

  Jovan’s hands sparked with magic. “No need. We’re good.”

  Rhys unsheathed his rapier, and Skylar pressed something on the short rod she carried and it flipped out into a full bo staff.

  Miss Stratton on the other hand looked positively giddy. “Don’t mind if I do.” She picked through the gadgets and chose a double-barreled gun with a wrist strap. “What does this do?”

  Claude just grinned.

  Once they were all outfitted, Claude gave them the use of his horse and offered his simple wagon. This seemed funny to Sebastian given the nature of his contraptions in his workshop. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the old tinker had a steam-powered carriage tucked away somewhere. They took the horse but not the wagon. It would slow them down too much. The metalsmith helped them procure four other horses as well from the town folk.

  Before they left, though, they excavated Mr. Blairwood’s body from the ashes and buried him. Sebastian thought it only right. Drea’s aunt presided over the brief ceremony. It saddened him to realize that Drea would never get to bury her father.

  Once they saddled the horses and scavenged food and other supplies from the village, it was two more hours gone. Now at last they were on the road.

  Sebastian took the lead, riding hard for a couple of hours before slowing to a more reasonable pace. Rhys rode alongside, while the others trotted behind. Jovan and Skylar kept pace together, looking deep in a private conversation. Every once in a while Jovan would reach for her hand.

  “When did that happen?” he asked Rhys.

  “Over a month ago, when we first started our search for you. Jovan called the council to bring her in. She’s the best tracker they have now.”

  “She’s all grown up.” Sebastian shook his head. “The last time I saw her she was still a child.”

  “A lot has happened in five years.”

  Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at Miss Stratton, who was riding with her eyes closed, soaking up the bright sunlight. She was quite the contrast to his usually unflinching brother.

  “Yes, I can see that. How did you and Miss Stratton...?”

  Rhys smiled.
“I have no idea. She just snuck up on me.”

  “It was fate, darling,” Miss Stratton said.

  Rhys chuckled. “Well, there you have it. It was fate, says my dear Corina.”

  Sebastian clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you. It would seem your search for me was not wasted.”

  Rhys frowned. “Of course it wasn’t, we found you alive and well.”

  “Right.” Sebastian nodded. He didn’t have the heart right now to tell him he was having second thoughts about returning to London. “You and Jovan seem like brothers again.”

  “We worked our issues out.”

  “I’m glad. I thought maybe when I returned that the two of you would have already killed one another and I would have to grieve doubly.”

  Jovan laughed from behind them. “Believe me, brother, we came close.”

  “Tell me about Darin Hawthorne. I remember him to be a bit of a callous man, some cruelty there certainly,” Sebastian said. “It was his father who I’d always found frightening. Now there is an evil man.”

  “He’s his father’s son to be sure,” Rhys said. “I’m not sure what happened to him. Years ago, I could almost call him a friend, then it was like he snapped. His father has certainly pushed him to this.”

  “Well, we’re not likely to see him again,” Jovan said. “He was badly wounded when we left him in France.”

  “We’ll see him again,” Miss Stratton said from behind Rhys, with her eyes still closed.

  “How can you be sure?” Rhys asked.

  She slowly opened her eyes. “Because he’s already here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darin dumped the red-headed woman he’d picked up in the woods at the elf’s feet. “Does this belong to you?”

  The elf smiled and glanced at Avaira, who’d stepped up beside him. “Who is this you bring us, cousin?”

  “This is Darin Hawthorne, the next leader of the League of Illusion.” She touched his arm. “Darin, this is my cousin Acari.”

  Darin offered his hand to the elf. He normally didn’t like elves, but these few seemed more in tune to his future plans for the world. Destruction and chaos. His father had always pounded into him—mentally and physically—that it was all about power and control, but Darin was starting to see a different world in his mind. One where he’d be free to rule as he saw fit and not as a puppet of an old man.

  Acari shook his hand, then gestured to the other two elves. “These are my companions, Lovo and Malor.”

  Darin acknowledged the others, then he looked down and prodded the woman on the ground with his boot. “And who’s this lovely creature?”

  Acari crouched and pulled the woman to her feet. She hung off him like a straw-filled doll. “This is Drea Blairwood and she’s going to help us find the morrigan.”

  The woman squinted at him and pointed her finger in his direction. “You have snakes in your head, did you know?” She spat on the ground. “I hate snakes.”

  Acari and his companions laughed at that. But Darin didn’t find it amusing at all. It was obvious the woman had been drugged but he still wanted to make her pay for her insolence. Maybe Acari would give her to him afterward.

  “Why are you here, cousin?” Acari asked Avaira, giving Darin a sidelong look. It was a look of distaste, which Darin didn’t appreciate.

  “To aid the cause. To help bring about the destruction of London.”

  Acari eyed Darin. “And this is what you want as well? Sorcerers are usually all about control. Theirs.”

  Darin sniffed. “I am all about me. If you stay out of my way when it comes to the League, I’ll stay out of yours when it comes to whatever it is you’re planning. I’m just looking for an opportunity to destroy the Davenports.”

  “Our mission is of far greater importance than your opportunity to murder.”

  Darin bristled at that. This elf spoke to him as if he were some common tuppenny-ha’penny hired assassin out for a few pounds or pretty trinkets. His goals were much loftier.

  “We want to restore order back to our world. Natural order.”

  “By bringing chaos and destruction? Seems a bit barbaric to me.”

  “Without that first initial chaos, our world wouldn’t even exist. We wouldn’t exist. Without chaos we can never have order and balance.”

  “What about progress?” Darin asked, getting tired of Acari’s pompousness. “A people must move forward to be enlightened. Surely you understand that.”

  Acari’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes, but what does progress have to do with machines and electricity and the destruction of the natural world around us? True enlightenment comes from within not without. But I wouldn’t expect a power-hungry sorcerer to understand that.”

  Darin knew arguing with a zealot was futile. If he learned anything from his father it was that politics had nothing to do with personal feelings and opinions. It was about what path to take to ultimately get what a man wanted.

  Acari and his followers might be ignorant misguided fools, but they had what he needed. A way to destroy his rivals. He’d just have to find a way to work it to his advantage.

  “I would think many of your people do not share your ideals. Your uncle Amathon, for example.”

  Acari’s eyes hardened. He’d obviously hit a nerve mentioning the councilman.

  “My uncle is misguided. Brainwashed by the humans and sorcerers he socializes with.”

  “That may be but he has an army ready and willing to fight.”

  “And we will have the morrigan.” Acari ran his fingers through the woman’s tangle of red curls, like stroking a pet.

  “True, but what if I could guarantee you that his army will be no threat?”

  Avaira brightened at that. It was obvious the woman, despite her words, didn’t want to see her father harmed or killed.

  “Why spill elven blood when you don’t need to?” he continued.

  Acari studied him for a long moment. “How can you achieve this?”

  Darin heard the disbelief and derision in his voice but he ignored it and said, “Amathon owes my family his position on the council and his wealth. As you said, he will do anything to keep these things.”

  Acari smiled although there was no warmth in it whatsoever. “I suspect you will have that opportunity to kill the Davenports as you wish.” He stroked a hand over the woman’s fiery head. “Won’t he, my dear?”

  She glared at Darin. “Sebastian will come for me, and when he does, you will all pay.”

  There was something in her voice that sent shivers down Darin’s back. It sounded like an omen, or things to come. And he wasn’t completely certain he was ready to face that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Where was Duncan? Drea knew she’d get in trouble if she didn’t keep watch on her little brother. Her mother told her that he was her responsibility while they were visiting Uncle Richard in the mountains. She definitely didn’t want a scolding.

  “Duncan!” she shouted. “Duncan, where are you?”

  “Does she have to be so loud?”

  Drea glanced at the tall man with the fancy jacket. She didn’t like him one bit. He was always complaining, whining like a little boy. She didn’t know why he had to come with them to find Duncan. She certainly hadn’t invited him.

  She tapped the shoulder of the pointy-eared man she was riding with. “Why is he coming with us? I don’t like him very much.”

  “Never mind him and concentrate on finding your brother.” He pointed to a rocky path that wound its way up around one of the big mountains. “Did he go this way?”

  She glanced around at the plain they’d been riding across. Uncle Richard’s cabin was just past the copse of evergreens to the left. She remembered the strong smell of those trees. She looked bac
k at the trail leading into the rock crags, where Duncan’s cap had fallen off when he’d run from her.

  “Yes, he went that way. We should stop to get his hat. Father will not be happy one bit if he loses it.”

  “We’ll stop for it on the way back, after we find Duncan.”

  She smiled. That made better sense. The pointy-eared man was very smart. He also had nice hair. She played her hand through it. It was so soft.

  “Can I plait your hair? It’s pretty.”

  The fancy man laughed, then said, “She sounds like an imbecile. What did you do to her?”

  She scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you, stupid?”

  “She’s in a drugged state where she’s the young girl who saw the morrigan. She’s taking us to that place.”

  Drea had no idea what the pointy-eared man had said but she was just happy that it made the fancy man shut up. She turned and glared at him again. “My friend Sebastian is going to punch you in the face.”

  “Is that right? And just where is this Sebastian? I don’t see him.” He gestured around. “You’re all alone, girl.”

  “Oh don’t worry, he’s coming and when he does you’ll be sorry.” She squeezed her hand around the medallion she wore around her neck.

  Drea didn’t know how long they rode, but it was definitely long enough that her rear-end was sore. She also didn’t feel very well. Her stomach churned and her body was sweaty. Her dress stuck to her skin.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “Here. Here. There’s a cave.”

  The pointy-eared man stopped the horse. The others stopped as well. They were still on the rocky path between mountain faces.

  “There is no cave.” He gestured around.

  “I don’t feel well.” She leaned over on the right side and retched. It felt as though her insides were coming out.

  When she sat back up, everything started to spin. She was falling. She reached for the pointy-eared man’s shirt too late. She landed on the ground with an audible thunk. The impact expelled the air from her lungs. She could barely breathe.