Page 6 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)
Raewyn played a few more games as we watched patiently. When she finally won a small stuffed bear on a ring toss, she jumped up and down while clapping her hands and shrieking. “Yes! Minue’s tits! I won!”
“Uh.” The carnie’s eyes, focused on Raewyn, dipped lower than was appropriate.
When I cleared my throat with a hard glare, he broke into a broad, practiced smile, and his eyes lifted.
“Yes, you did! Step right up and you can be a winner, too!” The carnie held out the bear to Raewyn, who clutched it to her chest as though it were a valuable keepsake.
Her enthusiasm was infectious, making me smile.
Ramiren broke into a wide grin, clapping twice. “Well done, Raewyn. Now, you have a memento for your travels here.”
Raewyn giggled and held the bear out to me. “See, Nat? I don’t need your throwing expertise after all.”
Funny.
“No, and thank the gods for it, too. I would not have won you such a token.”
Something bumped into me, and a scratchy voice soon followed. “Oh, excuse me, dearie.”
The voice caused me to turn, and my body stiffed as though instantly frozen. A shock of unnaturally red hair and a drab purple dress did nothing to distract from her noxious green eyes as she squinted over the crowd.
They’re here.
The anxiety that had filled me earlier unfurled in the face of an actual enemy, a living breathing thing that could be defeated. Resolve and training took its place. “Raewyn, Ramiren, walk over and stand behind me.”
Ramiren quietly moved behind me. When Raewyn paid me no heed, still preoccupied with her bear, my head snapped toward her as I barked, “Raewyn! Behind me, that’s an order! ”
She jolted. “What? Yeesh, fine, alright. Calm down.” She moved behind me with a scowl.
Securing my shield to my arm then placing my hand on the hilt of my longsword, I stood on my tip-toes to search for the bright red hair in the crowd, and my eyes warily tracked her movements after the search proved fruitful.
Ramiren watched calmly. “What did you see?” he asked under his breath, though there was no chance of the foul creature overhearing him.
“That was the mischief hag.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Ramiren sharply looked my way. “I see.”
Raewyn murmured, “Follow?”
When we all agreed, we did our best to squeeze past a few individuals who stood, oblivious to others, in the middle of the thoroughfare. As though pulled by an invisible string, she darted toward the Hall of Mirrors. Could she sense someone vulnerable in there now?
As soon as she disappeared into the Hall of Mirrors, we dashed after her. When we came to the entrance, the feeling of trepidation returned. I swallowed it down as best I could with a dry mouth.
“Come, she has entered.”
Raewyn and Ramiren followed me in. Making sure to keep myself between them and whatever might happen, we went through the entrance, and my foreboding nearly choked me.
Vivid memories flooded in. I was a child again, crying, screaming at the hideous hag to leave my sister alone.
My fists lashed out, but they bounced off her harmlessly.
She cackled at my feeble attempt and turned toward me, her voice high-pitched and abrasive.
“And you, my dear girl, I see in your mind you are quite the poet. The writer. The songstress. Creation is your joy and it shall be your loss!” She incanted something, gesturing wildly with her long spindly fingers as she did with Raewyn, “I steal from you, your creativity!”
Snapping back to the present, Raewyn looked up at me, concerned.
I shook my head to clear it. “Stay behind me. I can protect you better this time.”
Raising my shield to advance through the maze of mirrors, my eyes wandered on their own.
It couldn’t be helped. Some mirrors made me look shorter.
Some made me look taller. Some made me look fatter and some skinnier.
Standard trick mirrors. But this was the Fey Carnival, and nothing was mundane.
Some made me look younger, the exact age when I last entered this place.
Some made me look older, my silver hair turned gray and crow’s feet wrinkled at my eyes.
One made me stop in my tracks. My reflection was standing with someone and wrapped in their tight embrace with joyful, happy tears running down my cheeks. My beautiful white dress with gold fey-like embroidery was plain-shaped gown, but its meaning could not be mistaken.
My jaw went slack, trying desperately to concentrate on the face of the one my reflection was shown with, but the mysterious man’s face was shadowed. My distraction made me nearly miss my sister calling for me.
“Nat? Nathalia! Listen!” Raewyn tugged on my sleeve. Regaining my composer, my head swiveled up when the cries of someone in distress echoed distantly.
“No!” Taking off toward the sound, my shield bounced off of a trick mirror and shattered it. Moving around it, glass crunching beneath my feet, I dodged into fake alleyways, around blind corners. The shouts were getting louder, and my pace quickened.
Then, a croaking voice rebounded off the mirror-covered walls, “I see in your mind you’re quite the tinkerer. Wrenches and gears are your joy and your automaton your life’s work. Never again shall you improve him.”
A higher-pitched one replied, pleading, “No, please!”
We came to a circular room lined with mirrors.
In it, a large automaton, his machinery exposed at the joints, grappled with the thick, snaking vines constricting him.
The disguised mischief hag had cornered a small gnome with bright pink hair in pigtails.
Goggles sat over the gnome’s eyes, enlarging them to an exaggerated degree.
She looked like a child, and perhaps she was mistaken for one.
The mischief hag began to incant, “I steal from you, your tools!”
I charged, yelling out a cry to Horyn. As my sword swung down, the mischief hag disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a puff of green smoke and an echoing cackle.
“No!” the gnome wailed, patting herself as if looking for something. She, then, held her hands out. “My tools! You useless automaton!” She kicked the brown automaton in the shin with a hollow ding. She yowled then began to hop up and down while holding her injured foot.
The vines around the automaton fell away and disintegrated. He turned toward his owner and let out a soft beep. “YOU DID LESS THAN I DID.”
His voice reverberated throughout the chamber, making my ears ring. My hands reached out to her in case she fell. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I could not-”
The gnome put her foot down and wheeled on me, hands on hips. “Well, you should be sorry! Fat lotta good you did!”
My eyes fell to my feet. Shame and a deep sense of failure gutted me with yet another innocent being hurt in the same way my sister and I had been.
Another person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Maybe it’s not too late, for either of us?
A solution buzzed into my mind, and my chin lifted.
“Perhaps we can go to Lord Leviathus and let him know this is happening? I’m sure the carnival owner can help get your tools back. ”
The gnome’s enlarged eyes narrowed on me. “You think so, huh? Well, la-de-da. Who are you, the Queen of Evraka? No one gets a private audience with him without knowing someone.”
She’s right. And while my name is influential, even in nearby Evraka, this was the Fey Carnival. My signet ring wouldn’t get me a foot in the door. So, how do we contact him? Perhaps he keeps open business hours? Or a detailed message?
Suggestion box?
Pulling out the program, my eyes scanned the pamphlet, hoping for a way to contact the carnival owner as I rubbed my mother’s luck stone. One event caught my attention.
Found you.
Tapping the plain pendant in gratitude, I asked, “Raewyn, do you remember singing that duet song when we were younger? Seasons Change ?”
Raewyn looked at me, confused. “Yeah, why?”
“Lord Leviathus presents prizes to the contest winners himself. It says so in the program.” Raewyn leaned in to read the indicated paragraph in the pamphlet as my idea took root. “They have a singing contest, which should be starting soon. We could ask him then.”
Raewyn smiled. “I’m right there with you, Nat.”
Ramiren tilted his head, looking at me. “There are many quality singers who will be participating. Are you up to the challenge?”
My back straightened. “Throwing is not my strong suit, Master Ramiren. But singing is. It’s our best chance, I think.”
A sneaky noise made me look down at the gnome, who was being smacked on the back by her automaton in an uncomfortable-looking attempt at consolation.
There was another soft beep sound from the automaton. “THERE THERE, GEORGINA. WE WILL MURDER HER, THEN TAKE BACK THE TOOLS.” The automaton stopped patting her and put his hand to his side when she pushed him away.
“Yes, yes. Sure.” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Gods and gears, today was just not a good day!”
Beep. “WE WILL SQUASH HER INNARDS. ”
She sighed. “Alright, M.A.L.”
Beep. “WE WILL MAKE HER REGRET THE DAY HER FATHER INSERTED HIMSELF INTO HER MOTHER AND SQUIRTED HIS-”
The gnome swerved her head to the automaton. “Don’t you dare complete that sentence!”
Beep. “YES, GEORGINA.”
My obligation to help her wrestled with the dubious feeling in my gut. She was in the same predicament as my sister and I, but her hostile attitude was difficult to swallow. Not to mention her vulgar, booming automaton.
Ignore it. She needs us.
Addressing the gnome more gently this time, I hoped my words properly conveyed my confidence in our success. “We will get your tools back. My sister and I have also had something stolen from us. Perhaps we can help each other. Georgina, is it?”
The gnome looked up at me with tired eyes. She replied quietly with a slight head bob, “Yes.”
“I am Nathalia, a Protector Initiate. This is Raewyn, my sister, a Minuen priestess. And Ramiren, the… uh. Do you have an occupation title, Master Ramiren?”
Ramiren exhaled a soft laugh, “Pactmaker.”
“And Ramiren, the pactmaker. Let’s get out of this place and register for the singing contest.”
Raewyn clapped her hands. “We haven’t sung together in a while.”
“We haven’t, but it will be… fun.”