Tracking the Tempest

Mortified, I waddled off, practically cross-legged. I placed my messenger bag on the granite worktop of the kitchen's island before leaping toward the bathroom off the kitchen.



While washing my hands, I admired the huge piece of ironwork that I could see reflected in the mirror from the opposite wall. I loved all the art with which Nell had decorated her cabin—the gnome had oodles of good taste crammed into her tiny body. Most of the work had, I think, been done by the same artist, as many of the pieces showed consistent use of color, and there was something about the way the artist drew those big, liquid eyes that made me think it was all done by the same person. That said, the styles were very different, ranging from stuff that seemed really classical and old to really new stuff that looked almost like Japanese manga. But my favorite piece was this one, hanging in the bathroom. It was like an iron version of a graphic novel: full of strange little caricatures doing fantastical things. I didn't recognize any of the characters, but from what I could tell, it told the story of one group of odd beasties and people getting the better of another group of odd beasties and people—sometimes through trickery, sometimes in battle, and sometimes apparently by accident. It was massive, taking up the entire space of the large wall it hung on, and I loved how it was like the fine-art version of a magazine rack next to the toilet.



When I'd finished up in the bathroom, I went back into the kitchen. I was standing there, contemplating how the hell tiny little Nell could reach any of the massive appliances, when Anyan called from the porch that he and the gnome were ready.



I walked outside warily, afraid Nell would pull one of her favorite tricks and ambush me with her tiny mage balls. She was on her best behavior, however, sitting on her little rocker in the circumference of the porch's light and chatting with Anyan and Trill while the last dregs of dusk filtered out from the night sky.



When they were finished, we started working. And just like the past three days, I kept fucking it up. I would have what I wanted to do in my mind, but it just wouldn't translate into effect. I was trying to make myself unseen, which was the most common type of glamour. I wasn't supposed to make myself invisible, but to make myself… unnoticeable. No matter how many times I tried, however, I remained utterly tangible, totally visible, and increasingly hacked off.



“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” I shouted, finally, as I felt the little bubble of power I'd accumulated burst within me, creating a little sparkle in the air around me, but nothing more.



Nell sighed, and even she looked pissed. The damned gnome had a perpetual smile plastered on her face, so for her to lose patience told me just how crappy I was at glamouring.



She looked like she was about to give me a dressing down when Anyan interrupted.



“Nell, may I?”



The gnome nodded, giving Anyan a look that clearly said, “Good luck, sucker.”



“Sit down, Jane,” the big dog instructed. I did so, cross-legged, happy to take a load off. I'd been standing there not glamouring for well over an hour.



Anyan sauntered over and then sat directly in front of me, so close that the tips of his paws brushed the front of my shins. His intense gray eyes stared into mine, and I forced myself not to look away.



“You're focusing too much on what you want to see. This isn't about sight; it's about perception.”



My brow furrowed, but before I could protest that I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, he asked me to shut my eyes.



“And keep them shut. Don't try to see; don't think in terms of sight. Just open yourself and feel me. Feel what I do.”



So I did, and I did. Anyan's strong magic pulled me inward, and I felt what he was doing. With my eyelids shutting out my reflexive reliance on visual imagery, it suddenly all made sense. His magic didn't make an image; it didn't try to do some Predator chameleon thing, or Kevin Bacon's Invisible Man watery silhouette, both movie images I'd had in mind when I thought “unnoticeable.” Anyan didn't try to look like anything at all. Instead, he just deflected interest. He had a type of barrier, built just like a defensive shield, but this one wasn't about deflecting weapons. Instead, it emanated a bored whisper of bland, boring, nothing to see here.



I shifted my own power, imitating his. It took me a while, and knowing what I was supposed to do was never the same as actually doing it. Eventually, however, I felt it. I felt myself blanketed in a power that wearily insisted on my status as a nonentity. I opened my eyes, slowly, to find the barghest still watching me, his tongue lolling as he smiled, doggy-style. I smiled back, my heart filled with that fierce joy that comes when something formidable has finally been conquered.



Anyan and I were so wrapped up in our little moment that we didn't hear the first scream. But we heard the second. Trill's shriek of pain cut through our reverie, and suddenly I noticed she was on fire. Then she was rolling, putting herself out, and above her Nell was floating in midair, power crackling around her tiny form like she was one of those static-energy balls they have in science museums.



The barghest crouched in front of me, ready to fight. We raised our shields almost simultaneously and then seamlessly blended them together, my water flowing through his combined air and earth to create a wall of elemental force that was virtually impenetrable.



Which was lucky, as right then a blast of fire streaked across the pasture toward Anyan. It was red and angry, and it was backed up by a pummeling wave of power so fierce that, even behind our übershield, I staggered under its onslaught.



I went to one knee but no farther, for Anyan was there, bracing me with his massive shoulder. Engulfed in fire, we barely kept it at bay with our shields. We were as yet unharmed, but fire and snapping energy were everywhere.



Only then did my dazzled brain put together what had just happened.



I may have fled Boston for my own safety, but all I'd accomplished was bringing danger directly to Rockabill and the people I loved.



CHAPTER NINE



Just as quickly as it hit, the fire ceased its barrage. I staggered to my feet, pushing up off Anyan's broad back. The pasture was still full of smoke and flames and noise as I peered around, trying to see if Nell and Trill were okay.



“Are you all right?” the barghest roared over the cacophony. I nodded.



“Can you see Nell?” I shouted, and then abruptly had my question answered. A fierce wind blew outward from where the gnome had been hovering over Trill. It pushed away the smoke, clearing the pasture and revealing all.



Yes, I'd been told countless times that gnomes were fierce, that in their own territory, they could take on pretty much anyone or anything that came gunning for them, even Alfar. But no, to be honest, I hadn't really believed it. I mean, c'mon, Nell really did look like a supersized garden gnome. At just over two feet tall, she looked like a kindly miniature grandma.



And, oh, dear gods, was I wrong to underestimate her. Still hovering above Trill, protecting her friend with shields that would make Fort Knox envious, Nell had gone full-on Yoda. Check that: Nell had gone Yoda if he were on PCP, had been saving up his force for about six months, and had some serious anger-management issues.



Her hair, pulled from its bun, whipped around her in long gray tendrils as Nell pulled so much elemental power out of the earth that a mini-tornado of wind and energy spun in the center of the pasture. Only, this tornado shot what looked like lightning bolts but were actually blasts of pure elemental force.



Her target was standing at the end of the field farthest from the cabin: a pillar of flame that was far brighter and fiercer than the ifrit I'd met so many months ago. Conleth's—for it had to be the halfling—fire glowed so bright it was almost blue in the center. Even so, he was kept more than a little busy by the gnome. They were lobbing power at one another so fast and so furiously it was like watching a tennis match between Serena and Venus Williams.



Nell was obviously fine and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but Trill lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving.



“Trill's hurt!” I shouted, pointing toward her still, little figure.



Anyan ignored me, his attention fully on the action as he growled nonstop, his hackles raised. I knew the only reason he wasn't on the offensive was that he was protecting me. But I wasn't helpless, goddammit.



“Trill's hurt!” I repeated, giving the barghest's ear a hard tug. He looked at me sharply, obviously less pleased about tugs than he was by scratches. “We have to go help her!” He nodded as his eyes found Trill's huddled form.



“If she'll let us through her shields,” he shouted, clearly referring to Nell. “Hold on to me!”



I grabbed a firm hold on his ruff, where he would have had a collar if he were that kind of dog. I clung to him for dear life as we forged our way forward, buffeted by the gnome's and ifrit's competing forces.



At the edge of Nell's insanely large and strong shield, we ground to a halt. A magical tank wasn't going to get through that bad boy. I felt Anyan's force gather even as he did the magical equivalent of a polite knock on Nell's shields.



“If she lets us through, we need to meld the edges of our power,” he commanded. I nodded, understanding that otherwise there'd be a weak spot Conleth could take advantage of.