Modern Magick

The Heart of Hyndorin: 3

'That feeling,' said Wyr, attempting to writhe out of my grip, 'is not mutual.'

'That's too bad,' I said, handing him off to Emellana. He didn't stand much chance of getting away from her. 'What are you doing here? And where's our scroll-case?'

'I sold it,' he said, eyeing Em with distaste. 'Obviously. What else would I do with it?'

'Take an interest in a certain map that was drawn on it, by chance?'

'What map.'

'Ah. So your appearance up here is a coincidence.'

'Apparently.' He smiled at me, and flicked the brim of his hat.

I felt like sweeping that hat off him and hurling it (or him) off the peak.

'Look, this is not going to fly. You've some kind of interest in the Hyndorin Mountains, and if you don't speak up, Em's going to break you into pieces and feed you to the birds.' I'd seen a few large ones sailing overhead, birds of prey by the looks of them.

Wyr surveyed Emellana, unimpressed. 'She's big, but old ladies don't tend to scare— argh!'

I don't know what Em did, but obviously it hurt. She looked at him, cold as winter, and said, 'Talk.'

'I don't—' said Wyr, but this unpromising beginning was interrupted by a shimmer and a ripple of magick, emanating from the stony henge. Someone was coming through.

A tall figure appeared. Troll-tall, broad-shouldered, and achingly familiar. He paused only for a split second in the centre of the henge, and made as if to go away again — then saw me, and stopped dead. 'Ves.'

A moment later, Baron Alban was bearing down on me with obvious intent to hug. Ruthlessly.

Remembering, in the nick of time, my uncuddleable state, I took a few hasty steps back. 'Alban?' I said, in disbelief. 'Great. Now I'm hallucinating.'

'Nope,' said Jay succinctly.

Emellana smiled at the vision. 'Highness.'

'You're really here,' I said. 'How.'

Alban stopped a few feet from me, uncertainty replacing the relief on his face. 'Long story,' he said.

'It's not you,' I tried to explain, regretting my instinctive retreat. 'It's— uh, long story too.'

'All right.'

'You first?'

He sighed, and it struck me how weary he looked. In fact, he looked most unlike himself. He was clad in plain travelling clothes, devoid of ornaments, his head bare; the attractive, bluish-green tones of his skin and bronzed hair were gone, and he was merely brown-haired, with lightly tanned skin. It would be like me showing up in jeans and an old t-shirt, with my natural hair colour showing. 'Is everything all right?' I added.

'It is now,' he said, smiling at me, and he was the same old Alban again, even if rather less well turned-out. He looked around at Em and Jay and Miranda, and focused with a frown on Wyr. 'Since you all appear to be hale and in one piece... who's that?'

'Our nemesis,' I said. 'Apparently.'

Wyr, visibly more disconcerted by the Baron's presence than by Emellana's, said nothing.

To my dismay, Alban swayed on his feet, and quickly sat down — outside the range of the henge. He held up a hand as I started forward. 'Don't worry. I've just been through one too many henges today, that's all.'

'As in, how many?'

'As in, I've been travelling the Ways since last night trying to find you.'

'All night? Why? What's happened?'