Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Second Conjuration
Seal XIX
The paper birds rustled like leaves as they waited close to the ceiling of the cottage bedroom. I slowly got back to my feet, as to not make any sudden moves. I doubted that these things could actually see me, but one never knew if they could actually sense me in some other way. Rhys took the liberty of putting my hat back on my head.
"They're spells." His eyes were fixed on the paper birds, his jaw taunt. "With the writing changing so rapidly, I can't tell if it's a really bad spell."
"Maybe it is. Perhaps it's sort of a defense in itself in case they encounter a sorcerer. If the sorcerer can't read it, he has no defense against it."
"It's strange that there are any words at all."
One paper birds broke from the flock. A scout? It drifted down ward, plummeting, and the paper seemed to change shape as well--into a sharp, dark point. Rhys reached out with an arm to fend it off, but it slipped passed him, heading toward my head. I grabbed it before it reached my eye. The paper crinkled in my hand, briefly struggling like a rodent in its final death throes. Above, the flock quivered and hissed. The formation changed into a balled cloud. A couple of the paper birds in the formation wriggled more violently than the others, clearly on the verge of attack.
"Ana..."
The paper bird in my hand died, but I could still feel some sort of energy coating my hand. I opened my fist, revealing my ink stained palm. The ink was black although I sensed something more from it, as if there was some other color it was reflecting that my vision couldn't detect. I concentrated. The ink began to gather up into small droplets as if it was oil sitting on a pond.
"Stop fooling around, Ana." Rhys took my shoulders and tried to propel me toward the door. "I can't figure out what these things are, but they sure don't look happy." At his words, two more of the birds detached from the flock. They circled quickly above us, as if they were looking for an opening. I could sense Rhys trying to reach out with some sort of defense, but his energy seemed to flow right past the animated parchment.
"Surely you know a bunch of fire spells," I said impatiently as I watched the ink roll toward my finger tips. Part of me focused, hoping what I was doing--a variation of something that I knew already--would work. "You're the fire volume of the Clavis Umbrium, aren't you?"
"Don't you think I haven't tried that?" Frustration laced his voice. "If it were that easy, the whole think would be already up in smoke. Come on, we have to get out of here, preferably fast enough before the whole thing comes after us."
The drop of ink dropped from my finger and hit the floor. But it didn't make a splattered mark on the paneled wood. Instead, the ink spread fast along the floor and faded as if it had never existed in the first place. The two paper birds suddenly attacked--and struck an invisible barrier. They dropped to the ground, twitching. The flock began to move.
Rhys looked down at me. "What did you do?"
"I'm not quite sure. It was a long shot, I must admit." I glanced at the crumpled paper in my hand. The ink was completely smeared, but I could still see some symbols on it. Now that it was effectively dead, these symbols no longer changed or moved. "I used the energy of this spell on itself."
"Well, whatever you did, I hope you can do it again, because those things are coming." He was right; the flock was really fluttering about in a frenzy now.
"I think the wall is still holding although I'm not sure how much longer since it is powered by only one of these." I wondered why this couldn't be easier. Rhys was trying to drag me to the door now that I've bought us some time, but I was still standing there. It was both stupid and stubborn. "Could you try immobilizing them somehow?"
"Do I look like I have a net with me?"
"I guess not." Something caught my eye. The two paper birds on the floor were shaking themselves out, reading to take flight and attack again. Surprising him, I finally made for the door.
Once we closed it behind us, the door faintly trembled as if someone had aimed peppered shot at it. Apparently, the flock had broken past the wall that I had briefly created and was now attacking the door. Without saying more words to each other, we made our way back out of the cottage and ran to the automobile. Rhys furiously cranked on the engine and peeled out back onto the road.
Thor, who had been taking a nap on top of Al, raised his head and gave an inquiring meow.
I sat in the passenger seat, trying to catch my breath.
You have a broken spell.
I jerked around to look at the Necronomicon. "What?"
I can feel it. Let me have a look at it.
"You might as well," Rhys told me, his eyes on the road. "Perhaps Al would have an idea of what those things were. I had a bad feeling about them."
Things?
"Al doesn't have any eyes to actually look at anything," I replied, even though I reached back to put the crumpled bit of paper next to the old grimoire. Thor pricked his ears up in curiosity, but made no move to bat the paper around. "Although I'd have to agree with you about the bad feeling. Al, those things were a flock of these paper spells. But why would those things be in a book collector's cottage? Obviously, no one is living there now, so what would the point be of putting something like that there?"
Perhaps it was a trap.
I felt myself stiffening. "A trap? There wasn't anything in that place to steal."
Maybe there used to be something.
"But who else would come out to this cottage--besides Chesterfield and the widow?"
"Somebody did," said Rhys. "The door was open when we arrived--someone had gotten into that place somehow unless Chesterfield forgot to lock the door."
It's a rubric.
"Excuse me?" I said. "A rubric? That's not a spell."
"Yes it is," said Rhys, who finally spared me a glance. He seemed a bit angry. "And if I had noticed that it was a rubric, I would have carried you out of the cottage even if you kicked and screamed."
"That's barbaric."
Pay attention to the boy, Al berated. A rubric is a type of summoning spell. Like the usual rubric you might find on a code of conduct, this sort of spell gives direction. I can't tell the precise parameters of the spell since some of it has been muddled, but what I can tell you is that this rubric was seeking a target. Then it would only need a catalyst to fully activate its summoning portion.
"What sort of catalyst?"
"Blood," Rhys responded flatly. "Rubric originally meant the color red. So it is no wonder that the term has been used for these things."
"Even if that is true, I don't see how activating a bunch of flying papers would be even remotely effective."
"Ana. You don't understand. Any amount of blood would be sufficient to activate a rubric to do a summoning. A single paper cut would be sufficient to make the world fall down around your ears."
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