The Horologist's Pocket Watch, page 16
part #2 of Misfit Magic Series
The dark elf made his way toward the exit. “Maybe it’s not something. Maybe it’s someone. You know how Ms. Velvet works. Her tongue is more forked than my serpent’s. I would not be surprised if she’s turned someone against him he’ll never suspect.”
“Come to think of it,” the warlock said, drifting after his companion, “He did come here with a boy.”
Shade rolled his eyes. They thought Billy, the old him, would betray Quinn. Not in a thousand years. He might not belong in Quinn’s life, but he would never destroy it.
“Like many warlocks, I visited Wimbly’s after its fall.” The warlock paused at the door and motioned politely for the dark elf to step through first. “I remember the boy who was amongst those first families of magicians to turn against the other talented. He and his family swore allegiance to Nehemiah and even captured a few magicians for some of Ms. Velvet’s experiments. Porter Price, I think it was.”
The dark elf smirked and stepped through the door. The warlock followed after, leaving Shade alone in the abandoned graveyard of a train station. He floated, invisible, stunned, and desperately trying to put the spinning pieces of his world together.
It suddenly made sense how Porter so conveniently happened upon them in Gros Morne. The Witch Queen of the West probably dropped him there and then used the boy to spy on Quinn, Billy, and Heidi. She coordinated Weaver’s test so Porter would gain Quinn’s trust. He didn’t know how, but somehow she had a hand in getting Billy out of the picture, too.
Shade dropped his misty transformation. His body regained its thickness and drifted to the ground. Ms. Velvet might have defeated Billy Holcomb, might have driven him from his friends and pitted them against him, but she wouldn’t defeat Shade. Quinn and Heidi depended on him. The old him failed his friends. The new him would make Ms. Velvet and Porter Price pay for what they did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oh Look, an Elf!
The three decoy hunters ambled toward the forest’s edge. Quinn watched them from his vantage on the tree branch, trying his best to keep himself balanced on the precarious height.
Heidi had done her best drawing the right geometries to create their decoys, but summoning people instead of rabbits proved difficult, even for someone as good as Heidi at nature spells. Get close enough to them, and anyone with one working eye would notice roots and braids of branches formed the hunters’ bodies and not flesh and bone.
“This’ll work,” Heidi said, nudging him with her shoulder. Her feet dangled from the high limb, swinging ever so slightly back and forth. On her other side, Porter leaned against the trunk and stared intently at the hunters as they made their way from the forest and onto the island’s plain.
Quinn glanced toward the ground. At least fifteen feet of open air lay between him and the roots and grass below.
The branch will hold us, he thought. It can hold all of us easy. Just don’t look down.
He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and peered into the twilight plain. “Are you sure the bear’s out there? I don’t see it.”
Heidi pointed. “There, just at the hill. If you look closely, you’ll see the spot.”
He followed where her finger pointed, leaning forward just a little while his grip tightened on the rough branch. At first, he saw nothing but grass speckled by the occasional bush or small, glassy pond. But then, a dark splotch lumbered into view, slowly trudging toward a kidney-shaped pool.
Quinn smiled. “There it is. Good eye, Heidi.”
She nodded, her enchanted hands deftly guiding the illusory hunters nearer to the bear.
The decoys reached a hill near their unassuming prey. They crouched. They stalked. They darted from bush to bush, all the while avoiding the bear’s line of sight. Heidi hummed. Her fingers worked the hunters’ movements as easily as an experienced puppeteer before a crowd of carnival goers. Always the hunters stalked close to the bear, but never did they actual attack the beast.
Soon the last sunlight faded, and a twinkling night took its place. Heidi kept moving her hunters in a perimeter around the bear, always keeping just out of range.
A chill wind blew from the ocean. Heidi shivered. Porter grumbled and threw his head back. “This is so boring! Where’re those stupid elves? Shouldn’t they have shown by now? I mean seriously, two more minutes and maybe we should just kill the stupid bear and see what happens.”
“Shh!” Heidi put a finger to her lips and glared at Porter. “You’ll scare the elves away if you keep talking. And don’t even play at threatening that poor bear. She’s not doing anything to you, so you don’t think about doing anything to her.”
Quinn smirked and adjusted his place on the limb. Heidi lowered her finger and continued guiding the enchantments after the bear. “Billy would’ve been helpful here,” she whispered. “He was always really good at finding things we needed.”
“I know,” Quinn said. He dipped his chin and sighed. “He really was.”
“But he’s not here,” Porter snapped. “He left us alone to face this. What if the elves have gone evil or haywire? What if they try and capture us like the dwarves captured you? Billy saved you then. What’re we going to do now? If you ask me, it was pretty selfish of him to leave like he did without telling anybody where he was going or what he was going to do.”
“I don’t blame him.” Heidi said. “We’re in a war. It changes people. Sometimes we don’t understand why, but it just does. Billy’s our friend no matter what. I wish him the best and know one day I’ll see him again.”
“Even if he abandoned you?” Porter asked. “Abandoned us?”
“I just, I don’t know, have to believe he did it for the right reasons. That’s all I can do.”
Quinn shook his head. It was just so out of character for Billy to run off without so much a single parting word. Usually, Billy would be the one marching headlong into a fight, and if something upset him enough to make him leave, he’d make sure Quinn and Heidi knew what it was before he left. Maybe Porter joining them brought too many old memories of his life at Wimbly’s back. Maybe the war really had broken him.
Quinn huffed and leaned forward. “We’ve been out here for hours. I’m scared I’ll fall off the branch any second because my butt fell asleep an hour ago. Tell me about the elves, Heidi, before I go insane.”
“Okay…” She looked toward the sky and cocked her head. “So they don’t like technology and stuff even more so than the magicians and misfits. They think they’re shepherds of the natural world, and trees and animals and flowers are the things they love the most. I’ve heard that an elf can make a flower grow in any type of soil. Could you imagine that, Quinn? Any type.”
“How strong is their talent?” he asked. “Are they as good as magicians at drawing spells?”
“I don’t know. My mom…” Heidi hesitated as she always did when she spoke of the Witch Queen of the West. “She, ah, she didn’t like them very much. Mom likes pretty and perfect. Elves like balance. They sound similar, but they’re very different. Nature’s about balance, but balance doesn’t mean pretty or perfect.”
“Well if your mom didn’t like them, I think I’ll like them just fine.” Quinn scrunched his nose and tried to picture an elf. “Do they have pointy ears?”
“Yes, but they’re really sensitive about them. Don’t stare at their ears when we meet them.”
A tree a few yards away twisted around. Almond eyes appeared in the bark, followed by a nose and elegant, curved mouth. “Pointed ears? Our ears aren’t pointed. Your ears are just squat little square things, young magicians. If anything, our ears are normal.”
The branch they perched on bent and twisted, dumping Quinn and his friends. Quinn screamed and tensed, bracing himself for a hard smack against the unforgiving earth.
Something whooshed beneath him, and a springy, leafy arm caught his body before he hit the dirt. Blinking, he opened his eyes and spotted the very tree they’d been using for a hiding spot bent over and staring him in the face with its own curious almond eyes.
“I don’t suppose they are evil as we thought,” the tree said.
The other tree had caught Heidi and Porter and dangled them a few feet above its roots. “And they aren’t hunters, for that matter. But they must be up to something fishy if they’re out here trying to draw us out. Leave now, young talented, or face the judgment of the elf kin. We want nothing to do with what trouble you bring.”
Quinn’s tree wrapped one of its branches around his ankle and flipped him upside down. It lifted him to its eyes and scowled. “There’s an odd look to this one’s eyes, Mulberry. They’ve got a power inside them that’s different than the others. He’s no ordinary magician.”
“Could it be, Juniper?” Mulberry asked. “Do we have the fabled Misfit King hanging from our branches?”
“Please,” Quinn said. “We haven’t come to fight or hurt you. We need your help. We need it desperately.”
Quinn’s tree called Juniper raised a bark-covered eyebrow. “Then why’d you try and trick us?”
“Because,” Porter yelled, “How else would we get your attention? You’ve got everyone on Kodiak Island thinking you’re aliens who’re kidnapping hunters.”
“Aliens?” Porter and Heidi’s captor, the one called Mulberry, giggled through his bark lips. “They think we’re aliens? But that’s silly. Aliens don’t exist.”
Heidi cleared her throat. “Please, Mr. Mulberry, Mr. Juniper, could you let us down? You’ve been listening long enough to know we’re not here to hurt you.”
“But you could be lying!” Juniper said. “You bring the Misfit King. And if that’s the Misfit King, then you’re the daughter of the Witch Queen of the West and no friend of ours.”
Quinn quit fighting the tree’s strong hold and sighed. “Then bind our hands. We promise we’re not here to fight. We’re here to talk.”
Porter’s reddening face shot to Quinn’s. “But we can’t defend ourselves then!”
“That’s the point.” He turned his attention to Juniper. “Bind our hands, and if you don’t like what we have to say, you can get rid of us. There’s no danger in that, is there?”
Juniper and Mulberry traded glances. Juniper wriggled his nose and looked Quinn up and down one last time. “Very well. Conifer will want to hear what you have to say anyway.”
One of Juniper’s branches slid around Quinn’s hands and bound his wrists while Mulberry did the same to Porter and Heidi. Satisfied they had secured their captors, the trees placed the three magicians on the ground—feet first.
Glowing lines snaked up the crevices in the trees’ bark. Their branches retreated, and they slowly lost their height. The many leaves in their canopies burst like dandelions in a strong wind, leaving behind the two elves in their natural forms.
The elves stood a head or so taller than Quinn. Their skin was the color of polished opal, and their almond eyes shone with violet pupils shaped like a freshly bloomed flower. In their ivory hair they wove leaves and flowers, and like Heidi had said, they brandished long, pointed ears that swept behind them.
Juniper and Mulberry looked nearly identical save for a dark mole on Mulberry’s cheek and a streak of violet in Juniper’s hair. Juniper traced a glowing pattern, and a spear-tipped branch shot from the ground. He grabbed it and pointed the razor end at Quinn. “Don’t make any sudden moves, or we’ll, ah, we’ll spear you?”
He looked at his partner for support. Mulberry nodded enthusiastically and summoned his own spear. “Yeah. You better be afraid, magicians. It’s been awhile since the elves went to war. That’s because, um, we’re so good at it.”
Heidi couldn’t hide her smile if she tried. Porter frowned and lightly shook his head. Quinn swallowed and nodded as dramatically as he could. “Of course, we wouldn’t think of even trying to step out of line. Every talented magician knows about the mighty elves.”
“Good,” Mulberry said, marching forward. “Follow us, then, and count yourselves lucky it was us who found you and not him.”
The elves began their march into the forest. Heidi leaned in to Quinn and whispered, “Are they going to even check and see if we’re following?”
Quinn shrugged. “Just play along. I can’t believe they let the elves have a piece of the pocket watch. The way this is going, we’ll just have to go in and ask pretty please for it.”
Porter hurried after the elves. “Then let’s get going. I don’t like having my hands tied. Who knows what else is out here watching.”
Quinn glanced around the starry night. A crescent moon hung in the sky, peeking from a tissue-thin sheet of clouds stretching lacy fingers from one horizon to another. But aside from the moon and stars, the trees and lake-spotted plains, the island seemed empty enough.
They followed the elves deep into the forest and away from the plain. They twisted through pines, climbed over moss-covered boulders, and hopped over icy, babbling brooks.
A short while later they reached a glen. Within it stood a large, old boulder with an archway carved into its center. Juniper and Mulberry skipped to the great stone and waited on either side of the opening.
Juniper motioned impatiently at Quinn. “Through the doorway, prisoners!”
Quinn shrugged and walked through with Heidi and Porter following after. The air shifted and trembled with a static tingle.
Sounds of laughter tickled his ears, punctuated by clapping and dancing and drums beating in rhythmic tunes. Just through the trees, Quinn spied campfires burning amongst clusters of large tents.
Heidi drew next to Quinn and caught her breath. “The elf tribe! I’ve wanted to see it for so long. Never thought I’d get the chance, but here we are.”
The elves led them deeper into the camp. When they reached the first tent, musicians lowered their flutes and fiddles while others silenced their drums. Elves laughing and clapping around campfires quieted, their violet eyes drifting toward the newcomers. Only the popping logs burning in the fire pits broke the silence quickly spreading through the camp like a pox.
Mulberry and Juniper led Quinn and his companions to a roaring fire deep within the camp. Around it sat elves with wrinkles running rivers down their sagging cheeks and hair so long it looked like it took root in the soil at their feet.
The ancient elves sat with backs hunched in tired arches and starred dully into the dancing flames. Their circle came to a head at a great tree with pale bark and leaves the color of fresh cotton.
Mulberry and Juniper came to the circle first. They straightened, rocking nervously on their heels with their hands clasped tightly around their spears. Not a single elder elf acknowledged their presence or otherwise so much as twitched at their arrival.
After a few minutes of standing and shifting on their feet, Quinn risked a quick glance at Heidi. I wonder what’s going on, he mouthed.
No idea, she mouthed in reply.
Porter cleared his throat. “Hello? Anyone going to talk or, I don’t know, do something?”
Quinn grimaced. Heidi scowled. Still, none of the elders made a move. But then a low rumble vibrated through the earth, like the world itself was sighing.
“You have brought great power to our homes, children,” a voice said from within the large tree.
“I know,” Juniper replied as he stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Conifer, I really am. But he’s the one they call the Misfit King. He came here to talk, he says, not to fight.”
Mulberry nodded enthusiastically and joined his brother. “Maybe he can help us?”
“And have they agreed to this?” Conifer’s soft voice asked.
Mulberry and Juniper traded glances. “Not quite,” they murmured.
Conifer sighed. Two violet eyes appeared in the pale tree. They watched the world with a sort of exhaustion that Quinn pitied. Conifer’s eyes focused on him as a mouth appeared beneath them. “Quinn Lynch, the boy who is the Misfit King, if you would believe the rumors spread by Nehemiah Crawford.”
“So you know?” Quinn asked.
“My roots hear much more than voices say. Lips may lie, but your heart cannot. Your steps cannot. Your breath cannot. I know these things and so much more lost to those who have cut the chord to Mother Nature. I am woven with the world, and it is woven within me.”
“Do you know what we came for then?”
Conifer’s eyes closed. Quinn glanced around the fire. Not one of the elders had so much as moved despite their conversation. Conifer’s eyes opened. “I do. And I have what you seek.”
“So you’ll just give it to us?” Porter asked. He smiled, winking at Quinn. “If you’ll just hand it over, we’ll be out of your, uh, leaves or hair or whatever you have.”
Conifer’s eyes narrowed. “I did not say that.” He shifted his attention back to Quinn. “I do not want to hold what was given to us any longer. We elves are not made for war, and when last the magicians called on us, it nearly wiped our kind out. I fear we will not survive another struggle, especially now that I am taking root.”
“Then what do you want?” Quinn asked.
“My roots sink deeper every day. Soon, I will forget myself, and my spirit will spread into the world to join the others of my kind who rooted before me. But before that day comes, my people need a leader.”
Quinn took a step back “You can’t possibly mean me.”
Conifer laughed and pursed his bark lips. “Of course not. You are a magician. You are the Misfit King. You have walked the three paths, and those that have been touched by torture can never be at peace amongst the elves. No, the leader I seek is lost to us. He has shunned our ways when we need him most. He has taken up his own cause when that of his people is most important.” Conifer sighed, and his eyes drooped. “He can hardly call himself an elf. And yet, he is my son.”
“But—”
“These are my terms.” Conifer’s tired gaze focused steadily on Quinn. “Bring my son to me. Have him take up his proper place amongst our people. Only then will you receive the artifact you need.”
