Faormuc - J.B. Jones (reading an ebook .txt) 📗

had invested her own time and effort into the study of man as all of the ember caste must. She was perhaps the best able of the Cadre present to understand Spark's reluctance to venture more of an opinion, but probed further.

 

"Try harder, Spark. You alone have the knowledge of your 'beardy Vul' that will help us to reach the decisions we must."  She grinned when Spark tossed a frown her way following the suggestion that Vul somehow belonged to her.

 

"I followed him through the Forest as he stalked those men. I observed the care with which be prepared his camp. It is obvious that he has respect for, and experience in, the woodlands."  Spark sipped from a cup, ordering her thoughts. "Vul appears to be level-headed; despite his surprise at our introduction, he was poised. Beyond the initial shock when I 'opened' him," Spark nodded to Commune liana, "his reaction was acceptance."  Spark chose not to share Marku/Vul's experimentation with the '...see us as you will...' experience.

 

"Why did you open him, ember?" 

 

The question came from Commune liana. Opening of another was not a decision to be made based upon capricious whim. Information flowed in both directions between the opened and those wielding the power that permitted it. The action could not be undone, save for the death of the recipient. This ability, the raison d'etre of the liana caste amongst the Fey, bestowed power - and its intimate nature destroyed secrecy. The question was one that had occupied her thoughts as Spark made her way to the Sanctum of the Fey. The answer disturbed Spark, as it would the Cadre.

 

"I do not know, Commune liana," Spark said.  There were gasps. A few harsh and surprised expressions greeted her admission.  "I can only offer this: I witnessed the 'quietude' at the camp of the men Vul chased.  That is a rarity that I have only known the Forest to bestow when humans and their complex emotions are involved. I made the decision then. I did not know when I opened Vul what I was to learn later."  She swung her gaze from caste to caste.

 

When there were no comments, Commune administrator looked to each caste, "If there are no more questions, the Cadre will deliberate.  Ember, you will remain in chamber to be available for questions. You may contribute to Cadre discussions.  Have you anything further?"

 

 "Only a question, Commune. A faormuc walks with the humans.  Do the Fey?"

 

Spark's feelings were torn regarding the answer yet to be decided. She dipped her chin and said to the Cadre, "By your leave."  The ember at the center of a coming whirlwind chose a chair and listened. 

 

*****

 Jonsai gathered all the men within hollering distance and sent them for the others. "You two go on in.  I shall gather your inquisitors, Michaela."  Jon grinned at her and she stuck her tongue out at him.

 

  Michaela and Colryn went into the house and got dusted by Cookies.  She hustled up to them and turned to hug Miz Kayla.  Cookies stopped, straightened up and beat the flour off her clothing. Instead of only Kayla, the resulting cloud consumed everyone.

 

 "Come on, Miz Kayla." Cookies tugged at  her hand, "C'mon." The two women chattered and ducked into the world of Cookies. As they passed a counter, Cookies picked up a leather whip. She used it to point out different things until Michaela stopped her.  "That is a remarkable, umm, quirt?   You wield a whip, Cookies?"

 

Michaela's guide cackled. "Yep. One of them boys I sents ta butcher that horsie brought it back for me. Thinks he can butter me.  Hah."

 

Michaela put her hand over her mouth in time to hide the smile, "I would like to see that, Cookies.  May I? Please?"

 

"O'course. But outta this hot kitchen! C'mon, Miz Kayla."

 

The "grub boss," who had once kicked Boots for calling her 'grab ass', had hustled most of the way across the great room when the cat's head came around the edge of the front door. It stopped and growled with its face only. Cookies slid toward it. Her clogs made a scraping sound until she stopped.  With her mouth open, she turned to Michaela, the lash still in her hand. Before Cookies spoke, Kayla stepped in front of her.  Colryn turned from where he was reading something by a window.  

 

"It is alright, Cookies."  Kayla stared at the cat.

 

 The faormuc came with a pantherish stride. It focused on the two women and paid no attention to Colryn, who was moving toward the women, as well. There were no feline growls, or purrs for that matter, coming from it. The sleek feline crossed the oak floor, seeming to glide.

 

Michaela faced Cookies and said in a chipper voice, "Tis alright."  She nodded and smiled.  The cat tucked its head around Kayla's thigh. Violet eyes stared at Cookies. "The faormuc just..." Kayla hunched her shoulders, made little fists and screwed her eyes shut. 

 

Kayla you are a a a ohhh  I could kick you

 

"Faormuc!"  Cookies whirled toward the kitchen and the cat surged ahead. The faormuc took the leather quirt out of her hand.  It circled until all three of the humans were in sight.  It sat with the small whip between its teeth.

 

"Hmmmph. Kayla, your scary cat likes girls better."  Col sat at the edge of one of the chairs. Michaela walked to the faormuc and took the whip.

 

 "Yep, Miz Kayla.  'Tis alright wi'me if you keep that thing long's you like.  Could take your time, sure."  Cookies sidled into her kitchen.

 

*****

Patarkos lounged in the chair, cleaning the dye from under his nails with the black stone knife. One of his war-booted feet crossed over the other. Bafamel closed on him. 

 

"Your nonchalance will bring you to me one day," the demon said. Bafamel walked a wide circle around the sorceror.  "Why am I summoned?"

 

"You will find a man, Bafamel.  This will aid you."  Patarkos pointed two fingers at the solar system across the chamber and the smallest planet detached from its orbit. The warlock used the same fingers to guide the approaching sphere.  "Catch, hellion."

 

Bafamel rolled one thorny hand and the planet fell to its palm.  The sphere disguised more mass than it suggested, its weight noticeable. 

 

"That is the daughter of the man you seek.  Say hello to the demon, dear."

 

Tingling the spawn's palm, the planetoid that it held vibrated. Bafamel's starburst pupils illuminated and the fell creature sighed before closing heavy lids over them.   It feasted on the hysteria it sensed from the trapped mortal.  And prayers?  Does the child pray to her impotent gods for deliverance?  Closing its spiky fist around the globe, the hellspawn waited for the warlock to continue his instructions.

 

"No?  Well, no matter."  Patarkos rose from the chair and addressed the being.  "I do not care what becomes of the man you will find."  He gestured with his receding chin at the ball in the demon's possession, "Nor that." Patarkos sheathed the knife, faced Bafamel and said, "You will bring the boy he travels with here." 

 

*****

Marku/Vul drew the camouflage blanket over him and crawled a serpentine path toward the camp. He held the fluff of a dandy weed up a few times to gauge the direction of the breeze.  Marku did not release the bundles of seed to sail on their way. He pushed them into the soil, the back of his mind thinking they might grow.  Ashby, the only one of the party awake in the princeling's camp, might not notice the floating passage of the seeds but the opposite could happen, resulting in discovery. Marku maneuvered upwind. Carvhal would come to him. The woodsman stuck a piece of juicy grass into the corner of his mouth and smiled past it.

 

His companions herded an adult and two young skunks between them. When the procession neared the quiet camp, the skunks smelled food and it focused their attention. The herding embers sent the scavengers on their way and hurried upwind themselves.  An invasion of striped animals scurried right past Ashby and into the midst of the sleeping emissaries.  Ash's eyes bugged and he choked out, "Huh...hu...hunks!"

 

Prince Italo roused from troubled sleep at the shout.  His servant, separated from Sire by the fire he stoked, pointed at the invaders. He clapped both hands over his mouth. No more sounds came from the wide-eyed Ashby. The skunks followed their noses around the camp, scarfing up tidbits of the meal from the night before. The Prince risked one quick look, belched a curse and pulled the minimal protection of the blanket over his head. Italo kicked Corrigan, unfortunate enough to be closest. "Get them!" and all his other Royal demands were muffled by the blanket that covered him. He curled into a tight fetal position beneath the covers and squawked.

 

Corrigan's reaction to the boy-Prince's screaming and the kick that tore his dream to tatters caused the man to awaken with startled jerks.  A large skunk standing on its forepaws with a bushy tail folded over the white stripe on its back bid him 'good morning'. That threatful display might have been sufficient for the adult but the juvenile skunks did not share their companion's wisdom or restraint. 

 

Carvhal grabbed Ashby by the shoulder and he hustled them both out of the encampment.

 

*****

Bafamel croaked at the warlock that paced a scant few inches from the demon's hungering grasp, "And that is all?"

 

"Hmmm? Oh, yes."  Patarkos flapped his fingers in the fiend's direction and continued his teasing stroll at the periphery of protection. "Yes, yes, be on your way, hellion. You are dismissed." 

 

Two of the five towering candles guttered. Their glowing wicks breathed away wispy tendrils of smoke. The table that held the warlock's dark-art supplies vibrated and its feet scratched against the stone.  Starred pupils in the hellish being's huge eyes novaed into bright warning and its twin racks of spiked teeth grated against one another. "Your agony will endure," promised Bafamel.

 

Patarkos took his seat and resumed cleaning his fingernails. "You have my command, demon.  Be off." He crossed his booted feet and ignored the outrage consuming Bafamel. Demons are so very melodramatic. How I enjoy these visits.

 

*****

Marku smiled until the first inkling that something odd, and perhaps awful, would occur. It came as the trio of skunks abandoned the camp. They streaked away, tripping over one another in their rush to escape. Musk exploded from the striped animals and trails of urine sparkled the grass behind them. The hidden woodsman spit the blade of grass past his beard. He did not understand the terror and panic in their actions. They followed the path taken by Ashby and Carvhal who saw them coming and sprinted in another direction. Ash pounded through the brush, huffing and puffing "hunks hunks hunks" from his heaving lungs, several paces ahead of his savior. Marku saw no sign of the five embers that accompanied him.

 

Despite a cloudless sky, the morning light dimmed over the Prince's encampment. The cause of that darkening remained invisible until Corrigan detonated into mist.

 

Bafamel's fury was terrible to behold. The demon dropped the globe, forgetting that another tormentable soul resided within. Its torturous interlude with the arrogant and demeaning magician required absolution. Still unseen, the fiend lifted Corrigan, who until that moment had counted himself fortunate for avoiding skunk spray.  He rose far into the sky, unable to scream his fear. A whistled keening came from the doomed man. 

 

 There was the sound of a magnificent clap, many times more intense than the thunder of the most furious storm, and Corrigan was reduced to gore. Hot blood rained over the camp and the thing that killed him.  Bafamel could now be seen.  

 

The demon's eyes blazed from a nightmarish face dripping its victim's blood. Bafamel's disproportionate body,  highlighted by bluish-gray entrails that hung from numerous warts and spines, towered over Crown Prince Italo, Heir to the Throne of Faust. 

 

Italo's trousers darkened at the crotch. His eyes bulged from sockets in a blood spattered face as he marvelled