Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (28 page)

He never got to add “—as well,” because Lillandril's bow suddenly materialized in his hand. Followed by its quiver. Its arrows. And his arm guard.

The expression on the half-elf's face was indescribable. Despite the fear knotting his gut, Fabrice burst out laughing.

“Holy smokes!” exclaimed Robin. “It found me!”

“Well, you can tell it I'm very happy it did,” said Cal. “Because I have a hunch we're gonna need it.”

The screams of the demons who had slammed into the spell blocking the hole and sealing the wall confirmed his prediction. Fafnir readied her axe, Robin nocked an arrow, Fabrice and Cal cast a Destructus that they restrained with difficulty, Sparrow shape-shifted into the beast and popped her claws, and Manitou bared his fangs, ready to attack the first demon to get through.

Meanwhile, Chem had opened a Transfer Portal. On the way to Limbo, invoking the Demon King's name had been enough to get them here. But for the trip back, because of the Demiderus protection spell, they had to create the equivalent of a portal that would redirect them to Lancovit.

Encouraged by her father, Tara struggled to keep shrinking the statue. She tried not to let herself be distracted from what she was doing, but it wasn't easy. She was so happy. Within the space of a few weeks she had found first her mother, and now her father. Okay, Dad's a ghost, she thought, but I can deal with that.

Fortunately for Tara's personal survival, the magic continued to act while her thoughts wandered. The Judge twisted and moaned under the burning lash of the spell and continued to shrink.

When he was the size of a fat hamster, Tara interrupted the action. She scooped up the little statue and the taludi and quickly stuffed them into the dragon's saddlebag.

And none too soon. Two demons, smarter or more powerful than the others, had managed to break through the dragon's spell. Cal and Fabrice's Destructus cut down the first one, but the second was fighting fiercely. He looked like a cross between a shark and a centipede, with a whole set of legs, claws, and teeth. One of them wounded Fabrice on the arm, so Sparrow snatched the young earthling out of the demon's reach and shielded him with her body. Cal, who had been half knocked out by one of the legs, took revenge by paralyzing them one at a time, slowly but surely immobilizing the creature.

For her part, Fafnir was chopping off anything that stuck out of the demon. One of the Demon King's bodyguards, who managed to push his head through the protective force field, screamed with rage to see his king unconscious, the portal activated, and the Judge gone.

On Tara's signal, they all retreated toward the portal, fending off the attacks now coming from all sides as best they could.

“Go!” yelled Chem, as he shifted back into his wizard shape. “Quick!”

They all leaped through the Transfer Portal.

And found themselves in Lancovit.

With Master Chem in his underwear.

And one very surprised demon.

The demon felt a little lost at first. Caught up in the fighting, he hadn't hesitated to follow the impostors through the portal. He now realized that he had been teleported to OtherWorld and was surrounded by a slew of Lancovit guards, all eager to chop him to bits.

He wisely dropped Fafnir, whom he had grabbed, raised his legs in the air, and quickly retracted his claws and fangs.

The furious dwarf very nearly lopped off another of those legs, but Chem stopped her. “That's enough, Fafnir. He surrendered. Leave him alone.”

Then the old wizard noticed he was in his long johns.

“By my ancestors, this simply won't do! By Fashionistus, silver and blue, enrobe me now and quickly too!”

Chem's blue and silver spellbinder robe, which hadn't traveled with him to Limbo, immediately materialized.

Fafnir was staring with dismay at the hole her scorpion tail had punched in her second pair of handsome, red leather pants.

“Stupid magic!” she raged. “Those pants cost me a fortune!”

“Guards!” roared the wizard.

“Yes, Master Chem?” answered one.

“Send for Shaman Night Bird. We have two wounded and a demon, and our beneficent magic doesn't work very well on demons.”

“Very well, Master Chem.”

The guard ran off.

“You aren't going to treat him, are you?” Fafnir thundered.

Chem turned to her in surprise. “Of course we are. Why wouldn't we treat him?”

Fafnir was practically speechless. “But he attacked us!” she blurted.

“Well, not exactly. We entered Demon Limbo, we knocked out their king, and we kidnapped their judge. From their standpoint, we're the ones who attacked them. All they did was defend themselves.”

The dwarf was silent. She'd hadn't considered the situation from that point of view.

Something had been hovering under Tara's nose, and when it caught her eye, she stared at it in panic.

She had shrunk the Judge. The problem was, she had also shrunk her father! Now the size of a mouse, Danviou's ghost floated in front of his daughter, looking perplexed.

“Well, I'll be . . .” he said in a tiny high-pitched voice. “What happened to me?”

“Dad, are you all right? Oh boy, I am so sorry. I didn't expect this.”

“So, you're the one who . . .” Then he understood. “I must say, your magic really is powerful. But don't worry. As soon as the Judge is restored to his normal size, I will be too. At least I hope so.”

Deeply embarrassed, Tara smiled faintly and nodded. Her stupid power was running away with her again.

The Living Castle was delighted to have its favorite spellbinders home again, but didn't quite know how to deal with the demon. So it projected a burning desert, to suit the prisoner's centipede side, and a blue sea on the ceiling, for his shark side. The effect was pretty unnerving.

“Do you understand our language?” Chem asked the prisoner.

“Understand I,” he reluctantly answered.

“Don't worry. We're going to treat you, and then send you home.”

The demon raised what served as his head and asked hopefully: “You keep Judge?”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” chuckled the wizard. “No more verdicts, no more sentences! Sorry, but no. For the stability of your kingdoms the Judge must be restored to his position. I will return him to your king.”

The demon shot him a look of hate, but obediently followed the guards to the infirmary.

Master Chem then turned to Fabrice, who was cradling his arm and grimacing. Robin's Healus spell had dulled the pain, but the wound was deep. The demon's spines were poisonous, and they had to immediately counter the effect of the venom, so they took Fabrice to the infirmary as well. The young earthling didn't enjoy having a shark-headed centipede as a roommate.

The moment the friends rematerialized in Lancovit, Barune, Blondin, and Gallant immediately sensed their presence and came running. Barune was now giving Fabrice worried little taps with his trunk.

“It's okay, Barune,” Fabrice reassured his mammoth. “It's nothing; just a scratch.”

“No, it isn't,” said a deep voice behind him. “It's a deep wound caused by a demon on an evil world,” Shaman Night Bird continued. “It will take time to heal.”

“Time?” Fabrice's voice quavered. “How much time?”

“We'll see. My remedies need time to work. And no visitors. You're going to suffer, and it won't be especially pleasant.”

Fabrice almost passed out.

“I'm . . . I'm going to suffer?” he stammered. “But—”

“You have to suffer if you want to get well. Drink this,” said the shaman, commanding a glass to float over to his patient. The bubbling mixture it contained seemed to be trying to escape from the glass.

Cal, who hated the infirmary, spoke up quickly: “Okay then, we'll leave you to it. See you tomorrow.”

“Farm animal + difficult,” grumbled the patient, looking apprehensively at the roiling potion.

“What?” exclaimed Cal, who didn't understand what he was saying.

“Cow + hard = coward!” translated Tara, giving Fabrice a sympathetic smile.

As they left, they heard a loud “Yuck!” behind them, confirming that the mixture's taste perfectly matched its revolting appearance.

“Poor Fabrice,” said Sparrow with a grin. “Master Night Bird's potions are known far and wide.”

“For their effectiveness?” asked Tara.

“That too, but mainly for their awful taste. I suspect our master healer of making them especially revolting to encourage people to get well as fast as possible.”

Tara smiled . . . and swore never to get sick on this crazy planet.

They had barely stepped out of the infirmary when a familiar voice made Manitou put his ears down, Master Chem back away, and Tara tremble. She turned around and said the only thing she could: “Grandma?”

T
ara's grandmother wasn't known for her sense of diplomacy. At court, it was said that her ancestors must have had dwarf blood, because like them, she tended to strike first and ask questions later.

Isabella gave a vigorous demonstration of this by yelling at Tara for a good ten minutes. “Ingrate!” was the kindest of all the words she used.

At first Tara tried to defend herself, but eventually gave up, fascinated by her grandmother's breath control.

I've only met Dad very recently but . . . Yes! She could feel him reacting.

Danviou popped out from behind Tara's shoulder and planted himself in front of Isabella. Forcing his tiny voice, he remarked coldly: “You haven't changed, dear mother-in-law. I see you're as direct as ever.”

Isabella, who was halfway through her tirade, abruptly closed her mouth and stopped in midsentence. Her green eyes widened in astonishment, and a welcome silence fell on the assembly.

Tara grinned. Seeing her grandmother mute with amazement was worth all the bawling out in the world.

“Danviou?” Isabella stammered. “But . . .”

“It's a long story,” snapped the ghost, to save time. “Stay where you are and stretch out your arms.”

Fascinated, Isabella obeyed. The red glyphs could be seen on her wrists, living testimony to Tara's growing power.

“By the blood spilled, by the word given, I free you from your oath,” the ghost recited. “The Blood Oath is ended.”

The crowd turned to stare at Isabella's wrists. Nothing happened. The glyphs continued to slowly pulse on her white skin.

“I don't understand!” he cried in surprise. “They should disappear!”

Still unnerved at finding herself facing the tiny ghost of her son-in-law, Isabella rolled down her sleeves.

“I have no idea why it didn't work,” she said. “And Danviou, why are you so . . . small? And how do you happen to be here? I don't understand.”

Just then a trumpet blast rang through the castle, which quivered with outrage. Access to the Transfer Room had been requested from the demonic realms, which tripped the alarm. Magically amplified, the king's voice summoned all high wizards to the Council Chamber.

“Drat! I have to go,” said Master Chem, shaking his head in annoyance. “Isabella, you should come with me; it's been a long time since you've been to a council meeting. Children, the session is open to the public. Come and sit in the stands. I want you to follow the discussion, in case it concerns you. Manitou, please make sure they don't take any unusual . . . initiatives.”

A note of pleading could clearly be heard in the dragon's voice.

The Council Chamber was used for administrative functions. It was smaller than the Throne Room, but just as elaborately decorated. The lacy open work on the marble and granite columns hardly seemed strong enough to support the room's vaulted blue-and-silver ceiling.

Here, too, the banners of Lancovit's counts, dukes, and barons brightened the walls. Tara was surprised to notice a catwalk of carved blond wood that ran around the room above the stands. It was for the archers. Holdovers of a more tumultuous past, the bowmen stood with bows drawn and arrows nocked, ready to skewer anyone who made a threatening move toward the king or queen.

Just in case.

The high wizards were floating near the thrones. Isabella's appearance was unexpected, and it generated a murmur of surprise.

Finally, King Bear and Queen Titania, who were both powerful spellbinders, entered. They were short and, like their niece Sparrow, had brown hair and eyes. The king seemed as irritated as his first counselor, Salatar, who was breathing tiny flames of indignation.

“Oyez, oyez,” yelled the marshal, a redheaded Cyclops. “Our kingdom has just received an ultimatum of war!”

An anxious murmur rose from the crowd of courtiers. What? An ultimatum?

“It is claimed that the Empire of Limbo, in the Union of Demonic Worlds, was invaded by a Lancovit wizard and spellbinders. This wizard brutalized the Demon King and caused the death of several of his guards. He then absconded with a relic of inestimable value that is vital to the maintenance of peace in those realms. The Demon King states that if the relic is not returned to him immediately, he will abrogate the Demiderus Treaty and attack the rift and the spells protecting Earth, dragons or no dragons. He further states that the Lancovit kingdom will be his second objective.”

King Bear leaned close to his counselor. “Can he really do that, Salatar? I thought our wizards and the dragons had sealed off access to the demonic planets, so demons couldn't come to our worlds unless they had been sent for.”

The chimera breathed a jet of fire, then answered: “That is correct, sire. Normally, they can't. But when the peace treaty was signed, the demons demanded an amendment to the agreement. If they were attacked and were not the aggressors, and something essential to their survival was taken from them, then the spell would no longer stop them from entering our worlds. At the time, the wizards and dragons agreed, because the war had cost so many lives, and the clause was considered a minor problem.”