[Author’s note: I apologize for being late with this chapter. For several reasons (mostly because I’m lazy and I actually work better under deadline pressure) I only write the serial a little way ahead of the publishing deadline. For most of July, I had no air conditioning in my apartment. In Texas in July, that means temperatures of 100 degrees (f) or more. I didn’t have regular computer access most of that time, so I lost my lead, then actually got behind.

Once again, I’m sorry, and I won’t let it happen again.

--David G.]

The Youngest looked around. Old Mordakai’s constant assaults on the Box of Sorrows had increased his scope somewhat, but he was still not free. By the look of things, it was going to take a long time. The Forces of Evil were doing fine. They’d even managed, all on their own, to not only get rid of his Sister’s toy sword, but steal it. There were all kinds of rules against that sort of thing. Of course if they didn’t break the rules, they couldn’t very well be the Forces of Evil.

The Forces of Good were a real disappointment. They weren’t doing much of anything. They’d lost the Sword of Glass, which was OK, but they’d also lost their Oracle and the only member of the group who would figure out what was going on in time to stop it. All in all, the Youngest was utterly disillusioned. Usually his meddling kin did much better work.

“Maybe they’re out of practice,” he thought to himself. “I’ve been locked up for a long time.”

He laughed at that hard enough to hurt his ethereal ribs as he floated through the Netherlands.

* * *

Four Skyrunners perched just out of easy reach with javelins ready to hand. They weren’t exactly standing guard, but they eloquently, if wordlessly communicated their desire for Jason and Debbie to stay right where they were.

Jason saw no reason to antagonize them. He was comfortably coiled into one of the Green Witch’s rustic style chairs. No one had tried to take away his weapons so he had shifted his coat to make the sword inside more comfortable. Other than that, he hadn’t moved much in the time they’d been waiting.

Debbie was not so patient. She paced back and forth like a cornered animal, often looking over her shoulder at the chamber where the Witch had ordered her followers to carry Max Duvall. Several times she started to move closer to the door, but she always stopped short.

“What’s happening in there?” she asked, rounding on Jason.

“You’re asking me?”

Debbie growled. “You Valentines were all supposed to be Magicians or something. She’s doing Magick. I can smell it. What’s she doing to him?”

Jason didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he stood up and walked to the edge of the platform, looking down. One of the Skyrunners paced him, but Jason ignored the kid. Below him, the mundane city was barely visible through the tree canopy. This high up, the air was crisp and cold. New York was not much more than an abstract grid of lights flickering with motion.

He could feel Debbie’s stare. Clearly the Night Child didn’t want to be ignored.

“You have to know,” she said.

Jason spun to face her. “No I don’t. I don’t have to know what she’s doing. I don’t have to know what Mordakai Coventry’s doing. I don’t have to know any of it. Nobody gave me a copy of the how to save the world manual. All I got was a heritage I could never hope to live up to and a load of enemies I’ll never be able to defeat, and for some reason people think I should be able to deal with all of it.” He realized he was on the verge of shouting, so he forced calm into his voice. “I don’t know what she’s planning to do. If I know her, she’ll try to stop him from becoming a Night Child, but I don’t know of any way to do that.”

He felt Debbie’s hand on his shoulder, tense and tentative. “I didn’t mean to do it, not any of it.”

“Mostly, you never do,” Jason answered. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was all he had to offer.

He shrugged free of her grip and walked away, not really noticing that one of the Skyrunners followed him. The trees of the Forest stretched out like a wooden ceiling. There were still enough leaves to block out most of the stars. Jason found a spot where he could see past the canopy and just stared into space.

The Rooftop Forest was really amazing, he suddenly realized. He had never really appreciated it before, but he’d been gone for a long time, living in a world where magic was nothing but a dream and an overly commercialized card game. The Forest, winding across the skyscrapers of New York, was beautiful.

Behind him, the Skyrunner settled to the ground and leaned his kite up against a tree trunk. “Hale, Lord Valentine,” the kid said.

“I’m not lord of anything,” Jason responded automatically.

“Everybody’s lord of something.”

Great. The city was full of irresponsible risk-addicted Skyrunners, and Jason got a philosopher. She was young, but then again Skyrunners tended to be on the young side. Full-grown people had trouble with the gliders.

“Whatever.” Jason dismissed the girl curtly.

She wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “Look at me. All I’ve got is these clothes and my kite and stuff, but I have the whole sky, too, and nobody can take it away from me.”

“Some day you’ll grow up, and gravity will take it away from you.”

The kid appeared to think that over. “Then I’ll have something else. Maybe boobs.”

“Gravity will take those, too.” Despite his intent to be angry, Jason had to stifle a grin.

The girl had an answer ready. “Then I’ll go down to the mundane world and steal a Wonderbra.” She let Jason brood silently for a minute before she continued. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just that I heard what you said to the vampire woman and you sounded all depressed and stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it true that the Coventrys killed the Dutchman and stole his Foundry?”

“Probably.”

“Are they coming here next?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to fight them?”

The kid had a lot of questions. Jason took a while to answer. “Probably.”

“That’s good,” the girl said, with a withering lack of confidence.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re weird for a Skyrunner?” Jason bit out. Petty barbs should have been beneath him.

“I’m weird for an anybody,” the girl replied with a grin. “What are you gonna do to the Coventrys?”

“I don’t know yet. I hadn’t planned to do anything to them. They can have the city for all I care, but my sisters are involved, so I’m involved.”

“Yeah,” the sighed, “family can really tie you down. Do you know what they’re doing here? I mean besides taking over the city.”

“I don’t think they’re taking over the city.” The Skyrunner’s question gave Jason pause. “They wouldn’t take the Foundry offline for that. I think they want the Foundries for some reason, maybe to expand Covenshire even more.”

“What’s that like?”

“Covenshire? It’s an ugly place. I was there once. It looks like all the bad Dickens adaptations you’ve ever seen, but more gothic. There aren’t many trees or flowers, mostly just ugly urban sprawl and big Foundries spewing smoke to make it all real. The domain shouldn’t exist, and every season needs more power from the Foundries to keep it alive.”

“Sad.” The girl didn’t sound particularly offended at the affront to reality. Then again, she lived in a forest that grew from the tops of skyscrapers. “Is that why you came here? To catch them?”

Jason laughed derisively. “Did you see an army come in with me. I only came to see if the Witch could keep Duvall from turning. The Knights of the Circle can fight the Coventrys. All I want to do is see that my family doesn’t get any smaller.”

The Skyrunner picked up her wings and hopped from branch to branch until she had clear air below her. Then she looked back at Jason. “Did you ever think that if you don’t kill all the Coventrys they’ll always try to kill your family?”

Before Jason could reply, the kid had jumped over the side and was sailing away into the night.

* * *

All Max knew was that he was cold. In all the comics he’d read, the character would have been pictured as floating in a black void. That wasn’t strictly accurate. Max knew where he was, more or less. The place just didn’t matter. His eyes wouldn’t focus on the scenery, or his brain wouldn’t interpret it correctly, or something. All he knew was that he was cold, and tired. He’d played three-day gigs with no sleep and no food to speak of and not been this tired. Somewhere on the far edge of consciousness he knew he was in deep trouble, that everything in the whole world was wrong, and that he really needed to move, but it just didn’t seem to matter.

He had no idea how much time had passed. There was some kind of fight, maybe more than one. Then he remembered going up, a long way up. He was passed from one set of hands to another, then into a warm bed where he stared up at a ceiling of leaves supported by arching branches.

A face intruded itself into his hazy stupor, a beautiful face. She was old, but still beautiful. Her presence pulled Max partly back into the world. “You are dying, Maxwell Duvall,” she said.

“Don’t want to.”

The woman looked a little sad. Shadows passed across her green eyes, and she pretended to brush silver-streaked brown hair out of her way to cover her hand wiping at a tear. “Most people don’t. It would be best for you if you did, though.”

“You mean I have a choice?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she answered. “Something important was stolen from you, stolen and broken so that it could never be mended. Something else is growing to replace it.”

“Something bad?”

“Perceptive lad. Yes, something very bad. You’re becoming a Night Child, what you would call a Vampire.”

Max had to think about that. “But she didn’t drink my blood. She just kissed me.”

“A touch is all it takes. She drank your soul to fill the void of her own.” Her voice was colored with regret. “Her void will never be filled, and in time you’ll be the same, a parasite on humanity.”

Max tried to think. Fragments of torrid novels and bad movies filtered through the wool someone had stuffed into his head. There, they collided with reality. Whatever he gained, he’d be a monster.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to be a vampire,” he said.

“Are you willing to die rather than become one?” There was urgency in the woman’s voice now.

Now Max tried to sit up. It felt as though his muscles had been replaced with rubber, and his bones with lead, but he managed to rise and prop himself up on the headboard. “You said that before. Am I going to die?”

“Perhaps,” the woman replied. “You have two alternatives. One is worse, and the other is harder. How strong are you, Maxwell?”

“I don’t want to die, not yet.” He paused before continuing. “But I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“Then you must take the harder path. I hoped you would.” The woman smiled.

Somehow, Max wasn’t reassured.

The woman stepped back a bit and took a few deep breaths.

With senses he didn’t know he had, Max felt something building, a feeling like heat radiating out of the woman, but Max was still cold. Deep within him, a jagged, red sensation welled up. Involuntarily, he backed away, but there was no way to escape.

Her eyes glowed green as she leaned down to touch him. “This will probably hurt,” she said.

As her hands touched his skin, Max wanted to scream, but the pain rolling through him was so intense he didn’t know if he ever did. The woman’s touch burned him like molten metal being poured into his skin. Half of him pulled away, but half of him drank in the radiant energy with ravenous hunger. He couldn’t stop himself, even as he was being torn apart by the pain.

Abruptly, it was over. Max was panting, exhausted and shaken, but he felt better. For one thing, he was warm. The little room where he was laying was actually kind of hot. Also, a gnawing in his stomach that he hadn’t even been aware of was suddenly conspicuous by its absence.

The old woman was sagged against the side of Max’s bed, breathing in great, ragged gasps. Her face was covered by a sheen of sweat, and her hands trembled. She looked visibly frailer than she had before.

“It is done, Maxwell.” Her voice was thin and wavering. “I have given you something to counteract the Night Child growing within you. It will feed your hunger, but the hunger is a part of you, as is the Night Child. It is up to you to keep them under control.”

Max sat up. “I don’t understand.”

“You will. I will explain, later. Now I must rest.”

The old woman took up a gnarled staff in bone-thin fingers. She sagged against the length of wood as she hobbled from the room. Almost before she crossed the threshold, she was met by someone dressed in a long, quilted coat. The person, whom Max couldn’t really see, moved to support the old woman, almost carrying her.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Max called.

The woman turned to face him with very tired eyes.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Neither does anyone else, Maxwell. Most people call me the Green Witch. You can call me Molly, if that pleases you.”

“Molly.” Max rolled the name across his tongue, liking the sound of it. “Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome, Maxwell. Just don’t waste my gift. I think it is going to prove to be very expensive.”

“The Witch must rest now,” said the other person, whom Max now identified as a young woman. She led Molly away, and left Max alone with his confusion.

After a while, doubt and fear arrived to keep confusion company.

* * *

Derdrie’s carriage rolled up to her ancestral home in daylight this time. The sun was a barely visible brightness behind a rust colored sky. It was winter in Covenshire, and evening came early. Derdrie was meeting her father for afternoon tea. She thought it was going to be a charming conversation.

“Are you all right, Angel Eyes?” she asked.

Gabriel nodded. “I’m fine.”

In truth, he had recovered from his injuries with incredible swiftness. As long as he held the Sword of Glass, his wounds healed quickly enough to watch. Now he was dressed in a military styled uniform of Derdrie’s design. The coat was black velvet. The slacks were grey, with red piping. Over the jacket, he wore a black frock coat with gold highlights. It was slit high up the back so that it would flare dramatically over the scabbard of the Sword of Glass.

“Good. Now remember, Lord Mordakai is not a well man. He often mistakes me for his daughter, Derdrie. It’s best not to correct him, or he gets distressed.”

“Whatever you say.” The beautiful boy’s devotion was a joy. “If he’s in such a bad way, are you sure he’ll be able to stop the Valentines?”

“With you to help, nothing will stop us.”

The porter came out of the gatehouse and approached the carriage. The man was armed with a rifle and a pistol on his hip. He and Derdrie’s driver exchanged words, and he ordered the gates opened.

“Lord Mordakai has increased security. You’ve impressed him,” Derdrie smiled. “With all his enemies, that’s a good thing. The guardsmen were getting lax in their duties”

They rode up the drive, where another guard met them and showed them inside. One of Mordakai’s servants met them in the parlor, bowing. The broken window had already been repaired.

“My Lady, your father is waiting,” the butler said.

Derdrie shot him a dark look, promising reprisals. “Thank you, Richards. We’ll show ourselves up.”

On the stairs, Gabriel turned to Derdrie. “What did he mean, calling Mr. Coventry your father?”

“He was trying to warn me. Lord Mordakai is in one of his moods.”

“Oh.”

“Here, We’re going to the study.”

Derdrie led Gabriel to the workroom and opened the door.

Papa’s slave, Anastasia was standing there. She took one look at the two visitors and her eyes narrowed. The girl suddenly pulled a long knife from out of thin air.

Derdrie felt the stirrings of Magick, but she had no time to react as Anastasia charged with a feral snarl. Almost as soon as she realized what was happening, she felt herself being shoved out of the way and saw Gabriel’s bulk separate her from Anastasia.

Gabriel had not yet drawn his sword. With both hands he caught the girl’s arm and held the knife at bay.

Anastasia gave him no quarter, blasting a fist into the side of his head and raising a knee to hit him in the groin.

Gabriel grunted and fell under her attack, but held on. His trousers had a hidden codpiece, which he called a ‘cup.’ Even so, the blow had to have hurt. The Sword of Glass made him a truly formidable opponent.

Papa’s girl kept up her attack, gripping the knife with her right hand and hammering blows into his ribs with her left. Gabriel was unable to defend himself, and the knife was edging closer to his face.

“Anastasia!” Mordakai’s voice was brittle iron. “Stop, now.”

The girl didn’t obey immediately, but the pressure on the knife eased. Finally, she let up and allowed Gabriel to rise. The knife she’d conjured faded away with an acrid smell.

“I believe the gentleman is here as a friend, this time.”

“Yes, Father.” Derdrie smiled and bowed her head. “We have so much to discuss.”

Gabriel didn’t seem to be seriously injured. He straightened his clothes and resumed his place by Derdrie’s side. “I’m sorry about last night, sir.” He said.

Anastasia backed away slowly, keeping her eyes on Gabriel.

“Anastasia, bring in the tea,” Derdrie’s father ordered. When the girl left the room, he turned his attention to Derdrie. “Now, daughter, you will explain yourself.”

Gabriel seemed unfazed, so Derdrie began. “Of course, father. I sent my servant to test your defenses. The others are plotting against you, as always, and I needed to be certain that you were well protected. With your children so spread out, I was afraid that someone might think you were vulnerable.”

“So naturally you ordered your servant to break into my private study since it would be the most heavily defended place in the house.” He didn’t believe a word she said.

“Naturally.”

“And he took one of my personal books only as proof that he had done as you ordered.”

“Of course, papa. I would never steal from you. I have the book to return to you.” Derdrie didn’t need the book anymore. She’d already made copies of everything important. She proffered the case she’d brought with her, placing it on the table.

Mordakai opened the valise himself, examining the book with care. “I see that you took time to thumb through it,” he noted.

“I had trouble sleeping last night.”

Her father’s eyes hardened, and Derdrie realized she was on the verge of pushing too far. “How much did you discover?” he demanded.

“I know what you’re trying to do, at least most of it,” Derdrie answered. “There are still some pieces I don’t understand.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, dear one.” Her father was neither fooled nor amused by Derdrie’s attempt at flattery. “Why are you here?”

“Why, father dear, I’m here to help you. You have most of what you need. Alistair will have the other Foundries soon enough. I assume you have Dominick or Elysia acquiring you a place for the ritual. Just one sad truth stands in your way, papa. You don’t have the power any more.”

“I still have enough power to rip your soul from you and consign it to hell, girl.”

Derdrie bowed her head demurely. “Naturally, father. But cracking the seals on the Box of Sorrows is another thing entirely. They’re not even Magick in any way we can use it. The only way to break them will be raw power. That’s why you need the Foundries. But you’ll also need focus. You’ll need to take all that power into a single vessel. Is that what you had in mind for Rebecca?”

Her father said nothing, but Derdrie sensed that her comment had struck home.

She continued. “She’d be too young yet. Her powers have yet to emerge. The energy from the Foundries would kill her, then you’d have nothing.”

“You have a suggestion.” Mordakai was not asking a question. “Perhaps something to do with your new friend.”

“You’ve found me out, father. What Alistair and Dominick failed to do, I accomplished. I’ve brought you the Sword of Glass.”

At Derdrie’s gesture, Gabriel brushed his long coat aside and revealed the glowing crystalline hilt.

“Impressive. That explains this simpering fool’s behavior. How is he?”

“You’ve seen him in action. The workers fixed the house very quickly.” She let her tone answer his real meaning.

“I’m ready to help you, sir.” Gabriel was so earnest Derdrie wanted to smile.

Her father seemed moderately amused as well. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance very soon.”

“How fare the others, father?”

“Don’t worry about them, pet. They’ll do their jobs. Why don’t you stop playing around with your new toy and go do yours?”

“Oh father, my new toy is what I’m going to use to do my job.” Derdrie smiled as she rose. “Come on, Gabriel. It’s time for us to go. We have lots of things to do before you kill Jason Valentine.”

* * *

Kildare looked over his troops. They were good men, armed as well as any in the Netherlands, trained in combat, some with skill in the Arts or with Magickal Gifts. There should have been more. The Order of the Knights of the Circle was spread across all the Netherlands with a few Chapter houses in the nearer Shards. In theory all the Circle Knights in North America were under Kildare’s command. In fact, things were not so simple. The Chapters assigned to specific cities could not easily be called elsewhere, the roving Lances could, but few of them were willing to answer Kildare’s call.

Immediately before him there were perhaps forty men. Twice that number were already assigned to other positions. A handful more were scattered throughout the city, trying to determine the full extent of the opposition.

Alistair Coventry had two hundred men armed with rifles. He also had his Hounds.

“What are we going to do?” Colwynn looked up at him with trusting eyes.

“The Coventrys must ascend to the treetops. There are only a few trunks that reach all the way to the ground. Even Dominick’s ability to cross the Threshold will not serve for so many. I have men defending all of them. Their positions are fortified. The Coventry rifles will not throw the balance. We will ascend and wait.”

The Circle Knights were gathered in the Chapter house. Few words were necessary. Kildare motioned to his lieutenants and they took their commands. In moments, the cohort was in motion. The shifting walls of the City of Shadows were cast in gloom. The Knights moved in small groups, spread out far enough that no single strike would be fatal, close enough that each group could lend aid to the others.

The great trees of the Park stood in the distance, shrouded in cold mist. Kildare led his group, the foremost Lance, to one of the Gates. He was beginning to grow concerned. They had seen no sign of Alistair’s troops, nor received word from the other bands of Knights.

“What are they doing?”

“We’ll find out, Roderick.” Colwynn’s answer surprised Kildare. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

“My Lord.”

Kildare turned to Sir Kail.

The Knight pointed to the sky. “I think I know what they plan.”

Following his outstretched arm, Kildare looked up. “Double the march. Send runners to the other positions. We will find little to threaten us on the ground.”

“Oh my god...” Colwynn stared openmouthed at the pair of balloons.

Kail bowed his head curtly and pulled out of formation. His partner, Allan followed.

* * *

“Of all the stupid times.” The Youngest hovered over the stealthy tidal wave of Circle Knights and cursed in every language he knew, then made up some new ones. He was a god, he could do things like that. It didn’t really matter, of course. Nobody could hear him.

Old Mordakai had been very clever. He must have turned the Dutchman’s Foundry to the production of the dirigibles, and to widening the gate to Covenshire. The only force in the City of Shadows that could really reach the balloons was the Skyrunners. They were allied with the Green Witch, but they wouldn’t really stand much chance against the guns of the Coventry soldiers. The Youngest had better eyes than Kildare did. He saw that the balloons had gattling guns.

The problem was Kildare. Only this morning, the Youngest had been bemoaning the fact the good guys were so pathetic, and now here was Kildare being all competent at the worst possible time. The Coventrys really needed the Green Witch’s Foundry. If they were held off too long, the old man might die.

The Youngest needed to figure out a way to slow Kildare down without tipping his hand. He floated gently to the ground and wandered off after Sir Kail, whistling. Once he was pretty sure where the Knight was going, the Youngest flickered through space to get there first.

* * *

Gwenivere had stabilized, but not really improved. Sabrina consoled herself with the knowledge that at least the food wasn’t bad, if only because there wasn’t any. There was no light to speak of, either. The only light came through the bars on the far door, a pale glow cast by a torch on the other side. Sabrina sat with her back to the wall, staring at the door. With Gwenivere mostly unconscious, there was nothing else to do.

A shadow crossed the door, blocking out the light. Sabrina gasped involuntarily as she heard the key turn in the lock.

Gabriel entered the room, this time dressed in a black military style uniform. He still wore the Sword of Glass, and still hovered next to Derdrie Coventry like a leashed dog.

“Gabriel?”

He looked down at her with utter pity. “Sabrina, I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to help you. Crystal has a way.”

“Gabriel,” Sabrina’s voice was part curse, part plea. “She’s not Crystal. Crystal is dead.”

“You’re wrong!” Gabriel turned his back to her. “Gwenivere has blinded your eyes. Crystal has a way to make you see.”

The look on Derdrie’s face was horrifically evil, ecstatic with pleasure at what was to come. “That’s right, Sabrina. I’m going to make you see everything.”

* * *

Key, along with the other two children, had been among the first to be delivered to the Green Witch’s realm. The people there, mostly homeless rescued from the streets of the true city, had been very kind and full of concern for the little girl who never spoke and wore an iron key around her neck.

Key found the whole thing rather tiresome, so she allowed herself to succumb to an old woman’s crooned lullaby.

Freed of her mortal frailty, she wandered the treetop village. It was a fairly ragtag place. Structures were lashed to the trees by any means available. The most impressive one was a full RV camper, though the windows were broken out. Many of the others were made of orange crates and warehouse pallets. Natural wood and vines woven amongst the salvaged pieces gave the whole place a magical feel that made Key homesick for the flower scented glades and wood lined paths of her home.

Up ahead, one of the glider-using children everyone called Skyrunners abruptly sat up from where she was napping in the crook of two large branches. She dropped off the branch and sailed toward the ground. Key saw that she was getting one of her javelins ready.

Curious, Key followed. In her dreaming state, she was able to go almost anywhere she wanted. Now she seemed to hover just behind the Skyrunner. New York’s Netherlands rushed past her. The Skyrunner girl was circling her way to the ground on one of the large trunks. Now Key was really curious. The Skyrunner wasn’t dancing or dodging at all, just plummeting toward the lower reaches of the city as rapidly as possible. None of the others behaved like that. Key peered deeper, trying to see beyond the surface of the girl.

They were closing in on something. Two figures on the ground below were moving toward the roots of the great tree, cautiously working their way through the ancient buildings that surrounded it. There were several Knights of the Circle on the other side. Key recognized sir Kail from Lord Kildare’s Chapter house. He and his companion were moving quickly. Key presumed they were delivering messages to the other Knights.

While Key was distracted, the girl on the glider had moved out of sight. Key’s first clue was a horrid buzzing sound, like a giant insect would make. One of the girl’s javelins cut through the sky to bury itself in the guts of one of the Knights.

The other Knight grabbed his companion and dove for cover. Key could hear him carefully drawing his sword, but she lost sight of him.

Her attention was turned upwards. In the night, it was hard to see the neutral-garbed Skyrunner. A shadow fell from the sky, resolving itself into the shape of the glider as the Skyrunner loosed another barb. This one skittered off the pavement only inches from where Key estimated the Knights were hidden. The ‘runner caught a thermal and gained altitude again, laughing maniacally.

Key recognized the laughter, and memory twisted her tiny stomach into knots. “Brother, no!” she yelled, revealing herself to the Skyrunner. “Leave them alone.”

“Big sister?” The Skyrunner banked off her course.

“Leave them alone,” Key repeated. “There’s no reason to hurt them.”

The Skyrunner circled, resuming her prior heading. “Don’t try to stop me. I’ve waited too long for this. If you stay out of my way, I’ll let you live.”

“Please,” Key begged. “If you would have just stopped hurting people…”

“You’re one to talk.” The Skyrunner drew back to throw again. She would drop to the ground and strike before the two Knights could react.

“Please,” Key asked again.

“I really can’t have those two getting up the trees for a few hours yet, but I’ll tell you what; since they seem to mean so much to you, I won’t kill them. There is a price, though.”

The Skyrunner shifted her weight, and her kite-like glider dropped like a stone. She was abruptly out of Key’s field of vision. By the time Key had shifted position, the girl had struck the ground. Key watched her rise painfully and hurl her javelin at Sir Kail.

The barb was deflected by his armor, lacking the sheer velocity of her earlier throw.

The girl looked startled and turned to flee. She was slowed by a limp, and Kail caught her quickly.

“Why did you attack us?” he demanded.

The only sound to emerge from the girl’s mouth was an inarticulate sort of growl. She suddenly had a knife in her hands, and looked as surprised to see it there as Sir Kail did.

The Circle Knight reacted to her clumsy lunge to the full of his training. His stop-thrust was perfect, and fatal.

Key turned away at the final moment, and only heard him drop to his knees saying, “Creator, I did not mean it,” rather than seeing the tears on his face.

“Damn you, Brother. I’m trying to help you. I don’t want to kill you. Why won’t you leave me any other choices?” Key was unaware of the tears on her own face until she returned to her physical body and felt them.

* * *

The Youngest paused to admire his handiwork. Old man Coventry now had the secrets, and the power to crack the seals his kin had placed on his prison. The job had to be done on the Prime Realm. The Netherlands were close enough, but none of the Shards would do. There were some other strange conditions that the Youngest had made Simeon write in because otherwise the rituals wouldn’t seem hard enough. He couldn’t remember them all at the moment. Maybe there was something about a garden of dead roses that still grew, but that might have been something he read from the little British linguist with too much free time.

The Youngest wasn’t sure, but he knew he’d find out in due time.

To be continued…

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Changeling Seed

A Novel of the Side World

The First of the Valentine Chronicles

Copyright 2000 David Goodner

Continued from Chapter 7

Changeling Seed Archive

To be continued…