Page 24 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
T he mint condition matador and bull wind-up tin toy cost Bodach several thousand dollars, which he paid rather than haggle for a better price.
By the time he emerged from the store, Rona had arrived and stood waiting by his Mercedes.
She had dressed as provocatively as he’d directed her to, her small breasts half-exposed by a sequined hot pink tube top, and the lower curves of her buttocks hanging out of the too-small cut-off shorts.
She was chewing gum and smelled of overly-sweet perfume.
“How may I serve you, Master?” she asked, her hot gaze fixed on his face.
“I have to meet with Aosda. You’re driving me there.” He tossed her the keys.
On the way north Rona kept her attention on the road, and didn’t babble, which gave Bodach the chance to brood. This was the last time, he decided, that he would allow himself to be distracted from his quest to find his treasure.
“Why aren’t you talking?” he finally asked her.
“You don’t like it,” she said. “I do wonder, though: do you want me to have sex with your friend, Master?”
She sounded excited, he thought, bored with her easily titillated imagination. “Not every male wishes to use you, mortal.”
Her lower lip wobbled. “I want to please you.”
He could use a spell to permanently seal her mouth, but he enjoyed how well she used it on him too much. “Then do so by remaining silent and obedient.”
After she reached their destination and parked the car, Bodach gave her the toy, warning her not to drop it, and led her to the redwood forest. Along the way he wondered for the first time what Aosda did with his mechanical trinkets.
Since almost nothing of the modern world would function in close proximity to the ancient being, they likely didn’t work at all—or if they did, their delicate, ageing works probably fell apart after a few windings.
This time the old immortal emerged right away from his tree, now clad in a complicated-looking hooded robe that had been knitted from thin vines and stringy moss. At the sight of him Rona gasped, and the antique toy fell from her hands. Bodach snatched it just before it struck the ground.
“Why do you plague me, goblin?” Aosda demanded. “And why bring a scantily dressed child into my territory? My kind do not couple with mortals.”
“She’s here for my amusement, my friend.” Bodach wound up the matador and bull and set it on the ground so the old mage could see it work. “This is even rarer than the mouse I brought last time. It can be yours if you will again offer me your wisdom.”
Aosda ignored the toy. “I’m busy. Come back after the next full moon.”
“I cannot wait so long for an answer,” Bodach said.
The old mage turned and strode back into the redwood, but Bodach wasn’t giving up so easily.
He grabbed hold of Rona and jumped with her through the glow of the open door before it faded, and found himself standing in a much older forest of giant sequoia so broad and tall they resembled the pillars of an ancient temple.
Above them the sky glowed a vivid red gold with tangerine clouds, and violet moss covered the rocky ground.
In the distance he heard the massive thuds of something huge walking slowly through the trees.
A large tent with colorful stripes had been set up between two of the mammoth sequoia.
From it drifted the scent of popcorn, butter and hot tin.
“It’s a circus,” Rona said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bodach walked up to the entrance, formed by two flaps tacked back to reveal the interior, which was ten times the size of the tent itself.
A human-sized light brown flocked tin mouse holding a barbell whirled around the center of three enormous rings; robots, race cars and other tin toys that had been super-sized paraded about in the other two.
Somehow Aosda had enlarged everything he’d brought into his redwood forest retreat.
Or did they grow larger on their own? Bodach wondered, recalling how gigantic his enchanted caterpillars had become while in the spell trap.
In the stands, a bewildering variety of animated dolls served as the audience, their plastic hands making odd sounds as they applauded the tin performers.
Pine martens dressed in scarlet and gold livery scampered about the toy circus, rewinding the toys and adjusting the dolls that had fallen out of sitting position.
Overhead a number of human-size sea otters with spangled collars performed aerial tricks on the high wire and trapezes.
An enormous cart fitted with a spout pointing directly at the top of the tent pumped a fountain of popcorn into the air, which the otters snatched and ate as they performed.
“You let two pests come inside, dear one,” a soft, amused voice said.
Bodach saw a female of Aosda’s kind emerge from the tent.
Her dark green hair and huge brown eyes were decidedly inhuman, as were her long, rabbit-like ears and the green quills that served as her eyebrows.
With her came a cloying odor of candy, which made Bodach breathe through his mouth to avoid showing his disgust. The copious, iridescent gems that adorned her were partially liquid, and flowed around her body like tiny streams of quicksilver.
Rona made a strange sound before she fainted at the feet of the bizarre-looking female.
“Or maybe just one,” the female said, peering down at the girl.
Bodach decided respect might impress the ancient, and went down on one knee. “Forgive me, my lady, but I am in desperate need.”
“Your companion seems to be the one in peril.” The female sniffed and grimaced. “Oh, my, Aosda. This darkling is quite unpleasant. Permit me to end him, and then we can go on with our entertainment.”
“You cannot kill this goblin, Chlíodhna. He’s riddled with those red parasite crystals that the Fae so fear.
Also, he needs to remove this child, or you know what will happen to her.
” The old mage trudged out of the tent and scowled at Bodach.
“I could lock you and that girl up here for eternity, but you stink of greed, and she’s amusing only to you.
Go on, then, stand and ask what you came to learn. ”
He rose to his feet. “When I cast the melia spell over the McKeran, their castle, and their servants, I specifically named them. What happened to any living being there whom I did not name?”
Chlíodhna tittered with delight, her laughter sounding like chimes in the air. “Why, they no longer live, goblin.”
Aosda sighed. “My darling is correct. They would have been turned to pillars the moment you invoked that curse.”
“Pillars.” He recalled the image he’d seen of what he’d assumed to be snow on the floor of the hayloft. “What manner of pillars? Glass? Ice?”
The two old beings exchanged an amused look before Aosda said, “Think on mortal history, Goblin, and what happens to those who look upon the cursed. They’re turned to salt.”
“Here, now.” Chlíodhna went over and crouched down beside Rona, who was stirring. “Why do you still weep, girl?” She placed a hand on her pale brow, and then glared at Bodach. “You meant to offer her as a plaything? Have you no compassion for the child? ”
“Why should I care about something that shall grow old and die so quickly?” He went over and pulled the mortal to her feet. “Stop behaving like a spoiled brat.”
Chlíodhna made a swift gesture, and something yanked Rona from his grip and enveloped her in a whirlwind of pine needles. When they fell to the ground his minion had vanished.
“What did you do with my mortal servant?” Bodach demanded.
“Something kinder than I shall do to you, you brute,” the old being said, her eyes darkening to black with glints of flaming orange so bright they seemed to burn into his skull. The stink of candy grew so intense he thought it might suffocate him.
“That is quite enough of that, my darling,” Aosda said quietly. “Remember what happened the last time you lost your temper with mortals. You buried alive sixteen thousand of them under twenty feet of ash and pumice.”
“So I did. That was an improvement to their realm.” Chlíodhna gave him a narrow look, and then stalked back into the tent.
Beyond aggravated now, Bodach considered going after her. Did she really believe she could kill him, when his crystals would heal him of any harm? Or was she bluffing in order to save face in front of the old mage?
“That friend of yours will cross the wrong path one day,” he muttered, angry that he didn’t know enough about her to justify an attack.
“She is the wrong path, you idiot,” Aosda said, and gestured past him, opening the door to the outside world.
“I shall adjust my wards now so that you may no longer pass through them. If you attempt to counter the spell, I shall hand you over to my darling, who is a thousand times older than me, and more powerful than even I know. She also enjoys playing with her prey, which she has been known to do for millennia. Do you understand, goblin?”
He had no choice but to nod.
“Go.” Aosda retreated into the tent.
Bodach stood for a long moment, his fists clenched and his gut knotting.
He knew of several volcanoes that lay within close proximity to the old mage’s territory.
If they erupted, as Aosda had hinted, he would not be able to escape into the spell trap for long.
As voracious as the red crystals that empowered him were, he suspected they could not save him from death by molten lava.
He turned away from the tent and walked out through the glowing doorway, and found himself all the way back to where Rona had parked his car.
She stood there waiting for him, but now she wore a white lace gown and a wide straw hat tied with a matching velvet ribbon, and held a bouquet of yellow roses in her white-gloved hands.
Magic shimmered over both of them, making it clear that Aosda and his bitch had done more than kick them out.