Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Second Conjuration
Seal XXI
Only the sound of the automobile engine cut through the drive back to Greenglass. Rhys seemed intent on maneuvering the Rochet-Schneider through the damp roads--it had rained earlier--as if he were still lost in his own little world. In the back seat, Thor snoozed and the Necronomicon was silent.
Outside, the sky was dark gray, still threatening rain. The trees on the side of the road were mostly denuded, few leaves still clinging to branch tips like the highlighting gold on the page borders of an illuminated manuscript. The wind, however, threatened even this last vestige of autumn. I could hear it buffeting at the vehicle; a fickle cat playing with its prey.
I glanced over at Rhys, his hair tousled as if the wind had reached inside and yanked at his locks. His eyes seemed to mirror the sky, colorless and bleak. It seemed beyond my comprehension that a book would have the audacity to sulk. But a man was a different matter.
"You're annoyed with me." After saying that, I felt as if I could breathe a little easier. The thought had been running through my mind the entire morning ever since Rhys had given me an excruciatingly polite greeting at breakfast. We had said little to each other since then besides coordinating the loading of our luggage back into the automobile.
He hadn't even asked me to help him navigate the roads.
"I'm not annoyed with you." He sounded gruff.
"You are. You've hardly given me the time of day since we left Fairmont. Or even that bed and breakfast."
"Don't assign feelings to me simply because you think you know. You said you didn't understand. Maybe I just feel like not talking."
"That's the most I've heard you say all day."
He didn't reply to that.
"I'm not like you," I finally said. "It's true that I enjoy having the mobility that this form gives me, but I haven't really bothered with getting into what being a person really means. I haven't really seen a need to."
"One wonders, then, how you've even managed to function in this world in the first place."
"I can function just fine by staying out of everyone's way."
"If that's true, then why are you even bothering to find the other edition of the Liber Tutelarum?"
I hugged my arms to myself and watched the countryside outside go by. The forest had given way to the strange geological formations in the area. Towering fairy chimneys that littered the landscape. Each standing by itself.
"I'm alone," I admitted. "I can't very well make a person my friend. They have short lives."
Rhys opened his mouth, then closed it. His brow beetled as if he were thinking about something. Then he said, "You can't go through your existence not enjoying anything because they have some sort of time limit. Enjoy it while you can."
"Memories can be cold comfort."
"Probably because you don't have many good ones."
"How would you know about that?"
"Ana, it's..."
Stop!
Rhys paused. "Excuse me?"
"I didn't say anything. I was waiting for you to finish your comment."
Stop, stop, stop! It was the Necronomicon. Stop right here. There's something...
Rhys braked hard and the automobile jerked to a halt. Thor slid from his perch on top of one of the bags and mewled in protest. Outside, the rocky landscape was a pale brown blot against a damp horizon. The wind battered at the windshield.
"What's wrong?" Rhys asked.
Out, out. The old grimoire laid inert on the back seat, but I could imagine a red-faced, livid old man gesturing wildly. There's something out there we have to find.
"There's nothing out there," I said. "Just rock and stone and dirt."
Pick me up and I'll show you.
I reached back and took the grimoire into my left arm. I opened the passenger side door and stepped out.
"Wait, Ana, I'll come with you."
"No use abandoning the vehicle, Rhys. Besides, if it decides to rain, then only one of us will be wet."
"I don't like this. What if that old book is leading you astray? Into a trap?"
I am not just any old book, young man!
Rhys ignored the Necronomicon's outburst. "We hardly know that thing. Considering its reputation..."
"I'll be fine. We'll just humor the old book and soon we'll be back on our way to Greenglass." I shut the door before he could protest further.
From the edge of the road, the rest of the land was stony and rocky. I was glad I had on some sensible flats--otherwise I would have tripped on a pebble and fallen ignominiously onto my face.
To your left. The old grimoire directed. You're almost there.
"Where? All I can see is a boulder and a bit of a rock face on the side of a hill. Do you want me to climb it?"
No. Go around the boulder.
A particularly gusty wind blew up--crystalline and cold. Instead of buttoning my coat, I used my free hand to hold onto my hat. The air smelled wet. Imminent rain.
"Is it close by?"
To your right, near the ground. There might be some sort of crack in the boulder. Do you see a bit of metal?
I squatted down and looked. The rock itself was smooth, without cracks or pits. But there was a wedge of dark space between the rock and the ground. The shadow it cast seemed a little odd. I reached out.
This was where he died.
I picked up an odd key made of wrought iron. At one end, it was shaped into a strange unnatural symbol that made me shiver as if another gust of wind had caught me. At the other, the tines seemed blunt and unfinished. But upon closer inspection, I saw more symbols etched upon the metal.
"Who died?" I asked, straightening up. I put the key into a pocket and made my way back to the automobile.
Victor Fitzgerald.
"I remember now. His widow did mention that his body had been found between Fairmont and Greenglass." I reached the Rochet-Schneider and got in. Just as I closed the door, the skies opened up.
Rhys gave an exasperated sigh as he turned on the car, the headlights, and the wipers. "If we're lucky, we might get to Greenglass on time to catch the late afternoon train. So what was so important out there?"
"Al showed me where his former owner died."
"How morbid."
"And I found a key, presumably to open Al."
Despite the worsening conditions on the road, Rhys shot me a sharp glance. "That's dangerous."
"Don't I know it. But I have no inclination of using it. I can probably do a fair amount of damage myself."
"Let's be thankful for your own personal self-control." From his flat tone, I could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "So Al, how did you know that the widow's husband died out there? You weren't with him, were you?"
I was.
There was a moment of silence as we contemplated that.
When the travelers found the body, they took everything, including me, back to Fairmont for his widow. Victor Fitzgerald was searching for something, and he believed that I held the answer.
I couldn't help but ask, "What exactly did Victor Fitzgerald do? Summon a demon and get heart failure for his troubles?"
I have no spells that would summon demons--not the kind that the religious would call demons unless that is what you call gods who are not part of the current dominant beliefs. Victor Fitzgerald was obsessed with the future. Whenever his wife looked the other way, he would consult those whom some humans call as fortune tellers or oracles.
"I gather that the usual fortune teller didn't satisfy him."
No. When he bought me, he began studying my spells as if one of them would give him an answer. My spells aren't for the weak of heart, let alone those with weak minds. If he had gotten any further with his studies, he would have gotten certifiably insane.
"What a pleasant thought," Rhys remarked dryly. "So apparently Fitzgerald came out here to perform some sort of spell, not because he was heading to Greenglass to do some research."
Yes. He had found a spell for summoning one of the ancient gods who knew all of time: past, present, and future. His spell worked. But he died after just gazing at the elder god's visage--even before he had the opportunity to voice his request.
"He died of fright," I concluded. "Which is understandable. I wouldn't want to look at a god's face either. So what happened to this ancient god? The deity isn't running amok in the world, is it?"
Fortunately for everyone, the elder god found this plane of existence boring and went back to its own dimension.
"That's a relief."
Maybe.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
I said it left, but that didn't mean it didn't leave something behind.
Rhys' knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "Then we should go back and see what this thing is. It would be bad if a human stumbled over it."
You're too slow, boy. It was never found when they took me and Victor Fitzgerald's body back to Fairmont. That was why I had told you to stop back there. I had her retrieve it.
"What?" I reached back into my pocket and pulled out the key. It seemed normal enough. Cold.
It used to be ordinary. But I'm not sure what happened to it when Fitzgerald dropped it when his heart stopped. It's connected to me so that I had sensed that something had happened. But I'm not sure what or why. I don't even know if it can be used to open me anymore.
Rhys shook his head. "That isn't terribly specific although I suppose we can't worry about that right now."
|