Stubborn Mule, page 7
"You weren't meant to hear that," said Mawr, then gulped his coffee to hide from Phage's glare. "My, that really is the worst taste."
"Stop avoiding the question," hissed Phage as she came into the kitchen and loomed over Mawr.
"Please, sit down and allow me to explain. And I apologize for the intrusion earlier."
"You said. Jen's okay though?" Phage sat opposite Mawr and watched him closely. The wily old wizard looked the same with his drab cloak and his staff, the lank gray hair and straggly beard making him unmistakable as a wizard, but there was a spark missing, his usually jovial side very subdued. Something was up that he wasn't telling us.
"You're wiped out, aren't you? Is this because of Malka?" I asked.
"No, because I have been trying to heal Tyr. It's taken most of what I have to give, and I'm exhausted and weak. The morph took more from me than it should."
"It's a long way. Further than most men can manage. Apparently, I'm one of the record holders and it would floor me," I said.
"Indeed. But I believe I've told you other men can morph as far as the witches. I am one of them."
"Stop stalling!" blurted Phage. "What's going on? Why doesn't she want me there?"
"Because she hasn't finished what she set out to do. She didn't want Soph to come, but I insisted one of you did."
"And she chose Soph?" sighed Phage.
"It wasn't like that. She believed Soph would be out to fulfill his note, so didn't want you to have to leave home and the animals remain unattended. I know the situation is different, but still, she asked for him and I promised."
"That's the only reason?" Phage stared at Mawr full of suspicion, and even I knew he was lying, and badly.
"Fine," sighed Mawr. "She wants Soph to come, and not you because she has, er, changed somewhat, and believed, rightly or wrongly, that Soph would be more understanding and could prepare you. But mostly, it's because of the bond between Soph and Tyr. Jen, and I tend to agree, believes that Soph will have a better chance of helping Tyr than you will. It's not personal, merely the facts."
"That makes sense," I said.
"Of course it makes sense. You're much closer to him than me. I'm more interested in why my daughter doesn't want me to see her, and why she thinks Soph can prepare me. Prepare me for what?"
"Enough has already been said. More than enough. I have done as I promised, and now I must return to my granddaughter. She is well, and stronger than ever. But she has been away with Malka, so be prepared for many tales." Mawr laughed, clearly having heard more than he wanted to already.
"She does like to chat," I said.
"And tell you everything at least twice," chuckled Phage.
"Yes, and it's exhausting. My, it will be nice to have peace. But remember, Soph, do not hurry. A few days, then come. All is well, and Tyr will make it through this, and maybe he'll be recovered by the time you arrive. Do not come too soon."
"I won't. Thanks for coming, and I'll see you in a couple of days."
"Thank you, Father. Be well. And try to rest." Phage rose as Mawr did, and they embraced.
"Goodbye daughter. Don't worry, they are in safe hands." Mawr clutched his staff, gritted his teeth, then was gone.
"Pack a bag," snapped Phage. "We're going to get them."
"Phage, we can't. Look, I know you want to go, but you heard what he said. Jen is fine, and back, so let's not go barging in there and upset things."
"She's been who knows where with Malka, and Tyr's sick. What if she is too?"
"Then he would have told us. She's fine. He made a promise. We have to respect that, and the fact that Jen wants me to go in a few days."
"But she needs me. I'm her mother."
"Which is probably why she wants me to go."
"What does that mean?"
"It means she's probably been up to all sorts, and figures she's better getting told off by me so then I can smooth things out for her and you won't give her so much grief."
"But you're the one who usually gets extreme, not me. I'm the understanding one, aren't I? You took her to that horrible school for Necros, made her see what happens if she uses unnecessary violence."
"I know, and it was the harshest I've ever been, but it was for a good reason. You, um… How do I put this?"
"What?" Phage glared at me and held her body rigid as she ground her teeth.
"You can be quite intense at times. As is right," I added hurriedly. "Because you're her mother. But sometimes girls want to talk to their dad first. It's just the way it is." I shrugged, which maybe wasn't the best of moves, because Phage burst into tears.
"I scare her, that's what you're saying, isn't it? I'm a terrifying mother. She hates me."
"Of course she doesn't hate you. She loves you. Both of us. Don't think about it too much. It's just like Mawr said. She assumed I was out there somewhere, so didn't think she could ask for you because of the animals."
"That's nonsense. She knows everything would be fine here for a few days as Job and Shae could look after things. And she wouldn't want to distract you from fulfilling your note."
"That's what he said Jen said."
"No, he said she's changed and thinks you could prepare me. What can she have done?"
"I honestly don't know. Got a haircut? A piercing? Maybe a tattoo? Main thing is she's okay. I'm sure it's nothing. She probably did something she shouldn't have with Tyr and wants me to tell you rather than tell you herself. That'll be it."
"Hmm, maybe. I'm not the bad parent, am I? The scary one? The one who always lays down the law?"
"Nope. That's me," I said glumly. "You always let me be the bad guy. But she's still my little girl, and maybe I end up being too easy on her. I'm sure that's it. She loves us both equally. You know that."
"She does. Sorry, I'm just anxious. But she's back! Safe and well. That's all that counts."
"Of course it is. And I'm sure Tyr will recover. That bloody Malka. She's got a lot to answer for."
"But she also taught Jen a lot when they were away. Showed her things. It's part of her training. I wish I didn't worry so much though."
I wrapped Phage in my arms and told her, "It's our job to worry. The more we worry, the better parents it makes us."
"Then we must be the best parents ever," laughed Phage. "Now, let me guess. You're heading off this morning and will take your time going to Mawr's. Maybe go check on Pam, or try to. Am I right?"
"You know me too well," I admitted.
"Doesn't this all seem rather familiar to you?" Phage smiled smugly as she held me at arm's length.
"Maybe," I admitted. "The timing is kind of perfect. But there's one major difference. I'm not about to fulfill my note. It can squirm in my pocket all it wants, but I won't open it."
"So you'll take it with you?"
"Of course. I wouldn't leave it here with you. Just in case any daemons come to visit. It's best with me. But I'll be back before my time is up, I promise. That's six days away, so there's plenty of time. I wonder if I should take Bernard?"
"What? Really? You aren't going to cycle? Is the cart ready?"
"Cycling is getting risky. Even going by horse is a problem. Everyone's indoctrinated into walking, but you get less hassle on a horse than a bike. I hate to admit it, but he's my safest bet. Can't people understand that a bike is more eco than a horse? You don't feed bikes."
"No, but it makes the rider more hungry, so you eat more. And it's made of metal and plastic and that means a factory. No factory needed for a horse. And when they're old, you eat them," Phage whispered. "It's the perfect means of transport."
"Don't let Bernard hear you say that," I giggled.
With an almighty crash of breaking glass, our idiot unicorn poked his horn and then his head through the kitchen window and asked, "Don't let me hear what?"
"Bernard," we both cried, "it's a window, not a fucking hole!"
"Oops." The magical unicorn grinned cheesily, looked around the kitchen, then asked, "What's for breakfast?"
"I'll go get the glass and the putty," I sighed.
Sometimes familiar is good. Sometimes it's bloody annoying.
ALERT!
"Do I have to?" moaned Bernard as we waited outside the front of the house on the dazzling gravel drive.
I stared wistfully at the roses and wisteria arching gracefully over the front door and around the windows of the robust stone cottage, more like miniature mansion, and sighed. I counted to ten silently and took deep breaths—Bernard had winding up poor Necros down to an art form.
"Well?"
"I haven't asked you to do anything for years. Can't you just do this for me?"
"You made me drag a cart halfway around the country last year. I'm still worn out by it."
"That wasn't last year. It was ages ago, wasn't it?" I tried to think back, and for the life of me couldn't recall. What happened last year? I took my bike and went to Shrewsbury, right back where we'd moved from. And now I was heading there again. But this time, it was as much a personal visit as it was for anything else. Obviously, getting topped up with my almost empty tobacco supply meant I was itching to go, especially now I had an excuse, but checking in on Pam was the main reason.
"Maybe," Bernard conceded. "But I am still recovering." I glared at Bernard until he had the decency to lower his head and admit, "Although, I'm mostly over it."
"Good. You do know that this is your one and only job, right? If we need you, then you should be jumping to help. I know you take Phage every year, but unless you get asked to take me that's it for an entire year. Don't you want to see what it's like out there now? What everyone's up to? A change of scene is a nice thing. Makes you realize how good you have it at home."
"I know I have it good at home. It's why I don't want to leave. What's the point? And Betty and Kayin won't be there. They'll miss me. I'm the provider. They need me."
"The provider! I bring your food right into the stable every day. And the water. You have the freedom to roam the paddocks whenever you want, and in autumn you can graze on apples, and I know it's you who keeps eating the raspberries. You've even got a purple stain under your chin."
"That was an accident. I tripped and fell."
"Into the raspberry bushes?"
Bernard grinned and shook out his dazzling white mane. "I might have had a few to recover."
I chuckled as he turned away, then spun his head back around, almost impaling me on three feet of priceless spiral horn.
"Nice horse," said a man as he sauntered cockily from the now open gate and crunched across the gravel with heavy leather boots.
"Can I help you?" I asked, knowing instantly that he was trouble.
"He's going to try to hurt you," warned Bernard, adjusting his stance so he faced the man.
I stepped closer to Bernard and said, "I know. Stay alert, and if he tries anything, let me deal with him."
"I can take him."
"I know you can, but I don't want you sullying yourself on this scumbag."
"Ah, bit loopy are you?" laughed the trespasser as he stopped several feet away. He twisted his index finger at his temple and chuckled, relaxing into things as he thought I had a screw loose and would be easy pickings. "Who you talking to, eh? Hear voices in your head, do you?" He looked around, admiring the front garden, the large garage beside the house, and the property itself. "This is one large place. Bet you have loads of great stuff inside. Food too, I expect." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and narrowed his eyes as he licked his lips. "I'm parched. Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"
"You can leave now, and there won't be any trouble. But I warn you, if you try anything around here, you'll find yourself chopped up into little pieces and helping the wildflowers grow."
"Is that so?" he snapped, his jovial mask of affability vanishing. "And what makes you think I want trouble? I was just passing by and thought maybe some kind soul would offer refreshments. It's beyond hot already, and it's only early."
"There's nothing for you here. Leave."
"Don't think so." He hitched up well-worn jeans, ran a hand through short hair, then stroked his scruffy beard as he looked me up and down, sizing me up. He clearly figured he could take me, as he took a step forward and sneered, "You aren't very friendly. Maybe help a traveler out, eh? Bit of food. A chance to rest. Anyone else in there with you? Got a family?"
"Mate, it's none of your fucking business. Let me be clear. Crystal clear. You think you can do what you want, take what you want, and scare people into handing over what they've worked hard for. I know your type, and you make me sick. You prey on the vulnerable or the weak, or those not used to violence. I'm used to it, and I've killed hundreds, no, thousands of men. If you don't fuck off, then you'll just be another number. You don't scare me, you don't hardly even register. Now, please, with a pretty bow on, fuck off." I rested a steady hand on Bernard's flank and told him, "Watch this idiot. He's going to pull that knife and thinks it will scare me. Amateur."
"You're a bloody loon," he growled, then did as expected and drew a fairly impressive knife from a holster.
"You are so dense. You're so sure of yourself, you haven't even noticed that I have a holster too, and it holds a blade much more impressive than yours." I released the popper securing Bone Slicer, then pulled him free and lifted the tip skyward, letting the sun glint off the elven steel forged millennia ago in a different realm. Bone Slicer hummed to life, the runes burning deep red as he keened for blood.
A voice in my head pleaded, Can have blood. Kill.
"Not yet, but soon," I promised, then I flipped the knife around expertly, let the weight balance out perfectly as I made a tiny adjustment to my grip, and held my sentient weapon by my side.
"Nice knife, but whatever." He shrugged, then smirked as he performed a series of fancy swishes and moves with his knife, showing his offense and defense moves in a flurry designed to intimidate.
"Impressive," I whistled, "but pretty dumb. Now you've shown exactly how you fight. The way you parry or thrust, how you'd block if it came to that, which it won't, and I gotta say, it's very textbook. Me, I prefer a different approach."
"Yeah, what's that?" he growled as he stepped forward, ready to stab out. I saw in his eyes that he genuinely believed he could take me. That he'd done it so many times before that he felt invincible. Some people were so dumb it amazed me they made it to adulthood. But it goes to show the power of a weapon. That when confronted by a confident man with a knife, nearly everyone will simply give whatever they have in the hope they'll be left alive. I don't blame them, it's human nature, but this guy picked the wrong person to mess with.
"My approach to fighting? Let me show you."
Without preamble, my arm shot up and out and I flung Bone Slicer underhand with a snap of my elbow.
The bloodthirsty blade zinged through the air, cutting it aside as it flew impossibly fast then embedded to the hilt through the man's Adam's apple. Eyes wide in astonishment, he gasped as he dropped his knife and his hands grasped Bone Slicer's hilt.
"Wouldn't do that," I tutted. "He doesn't like anyone else touching him."
He screamed silently as flesh slid from his hands, revealing tendons and ligaments, before they too melted away, leaving skeletal fingers still clutching the hilt, unable to let go until the connective tissue spat and dripped to the gravel in a sticky puddle and the bones fell.
"Told you I was the wrong guy to screw with," I said, my face hard, zero sympathy given as I looked into his eyes. "This is better than you deserve. Now you're dying, and you get to see me as your last thing on this earth. What a fucking waste."
Tears fell from his eyes before they rolled up in his head and he crumpled to the ground. I walked over, put a foot on his chest, and slid Bone Slicer free.
"Better?" I asked the keening blade.
Feel strong.
With a grunt, I wiped the knife clean on the man's shirt more out of habit than necessity. Bone Slicer remained pristine, not a drop of blood evident, but it was the thought of the man's warped essence fouling my knife more than anything that compelled me to act.
As the runes shone bright with happiness, I secured Bone Slicer and stared down at the corpse as it bled out onto the gravel.
"Can we go now?" sighed Bernard.
"I have to deal with him first," I groaned. "What a way to start the morning. This is all I need."
"Want me to get rid of him?" asked Bernard, sounding utterly miserable. "Or you could morph and drop him into the sea. That would work."
"It would, but then I'd be exhausted. I'd rather save my energy. How can you dispose of him?"
"Just throw him onto my back," sighed Bernard, ensuring I understood it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Why are you offering if you don't want to do it? I wouldn't have asked, and I still don't know what you have planned."
"I'm trying to be more proactive. Betty says I have a habit of being rather glum and not getting involved. Not very, what did she say, personable? I told her I'm not a person, but then she got moody and wouldn't talk to me all day, so I'm being part of the team."
"Oh, right. Er, that's fantastic. Thanks. So, how shall we do this?" I stifled a smile—Bernard was a sensitive soul and got funny if he thought I was laughing at him.
He got onto his knees with several dramatic grunts and complaints about the hard gravel, so I slid the corpse over his back. He stood with a groan, even though he was incredibly strong, then said, "Be back in a mo."
The world erupted into rainbows. Visions of cavorting puppies and the taste of ice-cream, steak, and good wine filled my mouth as I laughed and danced a little jig, the power of the unicorn overwhelming me. As suddenly as it began, it vanished, and there was Bernard standing in front of me, grinning like the dope he was, minus the corpse.
"Done!" he crowed, neighing loudly.
"Wow, that was quick. Thanks. Where'd you drop him?"
"Off a cliff. Far away. Did you know they still have cars in France?"
"What?"
"France. The country over the channel from England. You must have heard of it."
