Episode 10: The Magic I Know, Chapter 3
"Ezekiel, are you sure you can do this?" Eve demanded, worry drawing her brows together.
"No," he admitted, shrugging, "but I'm sure it's a possibility; and until someone comes up with something better, a possibility is all we've got."
"Unless we can identify the exact artefact or enchantment used, it is our only possible option," stated Jenkins. "I can teach Mister Jones the basics, but beyond that I believe we should allow him to make free and full use of his newly discovered talents."
"He sure got enough practice in with that new vault!" Charlene commented, arms folding. "Even the back door to it used more than a few new tricks."
"One does one's best," intoned Ezekiel, in his best parody of Jenkins' voice and mannerisms. Jenkins narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing.
"Okay, Eve and I will keep going with the relics and research," nodded Flynn, an arm wrapping around Eve's waist. "Jenkins, you and Ezekiel get to work on that spell. Charlene…"
"Babysit the rock?" Charlene quipped, an eyebrow rising.
"We need to know if it changes," pointed out Flynn.
"Even if Chuckles ain't here to translate," sighed the veteran. "I know."
XXXX
Simmonds watched the last rays of the sun sink beneath the placid waters of the Mediterranean sea, glimmering off the peaks and troughs of distant waves and sparkling in the faint sea spray they sent up into the still warm air. Ice still gnawed at the soldier's bones, though, and hunger drove through his innards like a knife. He had eaten well that evening, feasting on the best the small town had to offer, but nothing seemed able to take the bite of hunger away. No matter, he thought. He had endured far worse on this quest of his. Soon, only a few hours away now, the ceremony of apotheosis would begin. He would stand before his queen and gratefully receive the mantle of Jormungand, her brother. As darkness descended, he turned away, picking his way back to the town, and to his queen.
XXXX
"Have you told her?" Jenkins murmured, carefully scoring runes onto a wooden staff.
Ezekiel looked up from the scroll he was studying. "Hm? Told who what?"
"Told Seonaidh," sighed the old man, without looking up. "Have you told Seonaidh what you saw in the mirror? Or what you plan to do about it?"
"Oh…" Ezekiel paused, looking back at the scroll. "No."
"Why not?"
"She'd want to try and help," shrugged the Librarian. "You said it yourself: she has to focus on the castle right now."
"Is that the only reason?" Jenkins persisted, finishing his work on one staff and drawing another to him.
"I'm open to suggestions," quipped Ezekiel, copying an item from the scroll into a notebook.
"I dare say," hummed Jenkins. "Well then: I would suggest that you still fear the future you saw in the mirror was not your own. That, should you return to my grand-daughter and ask for her hand, she will refuse it and send you away. That she is not the true love you think her to be, or worse: she is your true love but you are not hers. Not every story has a happy ending. Perhaps, I might venture to add, you still believe you are not truly deserving of yours?"
Ezekiel's eyes shifted their focus away from the scroll. It was more than a few moments before he spoke. "How'd you come up with that theory?"
Jenkins paused in the inscribing of the second wand of wood and turned to his faithful apprentice. "I may be old," he sighed, "but I do remember what it felt like to fall in love, and I still remember, as clearly as if it had happened just yesterday, how terrifying it was to contemplate binding my heart and soul to another forever. We already knew, remember, that we had lived long beyond our expected time; and we knew, even as we spoke the oaths of marriage, that we were binding our lives together for untold centuries to come. You and Seonaidh may not have reached quite the same point in years, but you both have an inkling that those years will extend far beyond that of ordinary humans. Your visions, in the Celtic Mirror, at least show that marriage to be a happy and fruitful one for many years. I'll admit, it's not what I'd suggest you lead with in a proposal, but it is something she should know. Preferably before she hears from some other source that you're risking more than just your life in this fight!"
Ezekiel nodded slowly, rolling his pencil back and forth between his fingers, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "You're right," he murmured, eventually. "I'll tell her. And ask her. Just as soon as we get Cassandra and Stone back."
Jenkins narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the boy's troubled features. He nodded, as if coming to some long thought out conclusion. "See that you do."
XXXX
"Nope."
"It's the only break in the bubble, Jacob," protested Cassie, flinging out her hands to the library door.
"And you don't think they know that?" Jacob Stone countered, waving a hand of his own at the seemingly innocuous doorway. "You don't think that's exactly what they planned and why they set it up the way they did?"
"I'll just stick my head through."
"And if they decide to cut the connection, huh? Then what're you gonna do? Say 'hi' to Marie Antoinette?"
"For all we know it could be that connection that is keeping us here, like some kind of magical electromagnet!" Cassandra argued, her voice rising to match his. "If we can break it, maybe we can break out of here!"
"You won't be breaking anything or anywhere if you're in two pieces!" Jacob yelled. "Flynn and the others will come up with something: it's what they do. Just give them time!"
"It's not just what they do, it's what we do!" Cassie raged. "I will not sit here, trapped in the same cage I grew up in, waiting for someone to come rescue me!"
"And that's just it, isn't it? Cassie, you hate that one or both of your parents magically grounded you and you're so desperate to climb out the proverbial window you ain't even checkin' to see if there's a drainpipe to shimmy down first!"
"Hey!" Cassandra began, her brow darkening. She suddenly stopped and looked around, confusion replacing anger. "Do you hear that?"
"And feel it," nodded Stone. "It's like someone's running their finger round the rim of the world's biggest wineglass."
"Resonance," nodded Cassie. "Hit the right resonant frequency of a glass and you can shatter it. I wonder." Her eyes unfocused. "It's the spell."
"What's that?" Jacob frowned back.
"It's the spell that's resonating," Cassie explained, putting a hand out to his arm. "The spell is like the glass and someone is making it resonate."
Jacob Stone's genius IQ took hardly a heartbeat to put the pieces together. "Their trying to break it. It's Flynn. Come on, we gotta move. Remember what happens to that glass when you hit the right frequency?"
"There's no time for that," Cassie shook her head and pulled him back to her side. "Come here. I should have enough power to put a bubble up around us."
"You sure, darlin'?"
"Either way," Cassie grinned, wrapping herself in his arms, "hold me close and I'll die a happy woman."
Stone raised an eyebrow at her. "You been watching TV with Jones again?"
She shrugged in his embrace, watching the blue shimmer of her forcefield rise around them. "Tesla always get the best lines."
XXXX
The hum of magic straining against magic echoed through the Library. The interlocking triangle of wooden staves glowed grassy green on the floor of the office. Flynn and Eve covered their ears with their hands, watching ceaselessly nonetheless, as Ezekiel murmured words they could barely make out and understand not at all. Jenkins stood by, watching with grim face and folded arms, as the sound rose and rose, circling up louder and ever louder until even he began to feel the pain of it. With the warning of a power cut, the noise vanished. The force of it still seemed to echo in their guts and their bones chimed in aching, burning, pain, but the sound was gone. All three turned to look at the fourth member of their company. For the briefest of moments, Jenkins thought he saw the boy's eyes glow green, like a cat's, then he noticed what his acolyte was looking at. At the centre of the triangle, wrapped in a swathe of blue light, not to mention each other's arms, were Cassandra Cillian and Jacob Stone.
"It worked then," grinned the thief.
XXXX
The chamber stretched out into darkness. The ring of torches, their flames dancing at the slightest breath, rouged the floor and faces illuminated by their light. In the centre of the circle stood a wide golden dish, its pale, shining exterior betraying its composition as something other than pure gold. The water within lapped at the shallow edge with waves of an unknown ocean, its movement wholly its own. Each supplicant surrounding the electrum dish held in their hands two items, one in each hand. Some were contained within crystal vials, their stoppers now removed. More than one of the vials coruscated with the garnet glow of blood.
A rustle of fabric ought to have drawn the eyes of the circle, but each remained stolidly staring straight ahead, as if mesmerised by the play of firelight on electrum and water. The Queen took her place in the circle.
"All is now ready," she intoned. "Our preparations have been made. Our rituals completed. We now await only the turning of the day: the space between this day and the next. Darkness has fallen. At the last stroke of midnight, this world will fall with it."
XXXX
"And you're sure there was nothing there of that kind?" Jenkins repeated, waving the rough sketch and description in front of the pair.
"Absolutely," growled Stone, leaning back against the bannister with folded arms, "and I ain't even got a photographic memory!"
Cassandra, leaning on the other side of the banister and up the few stairs it took to reach him, leant down over Jacob and kissed his head with a smile. In return, he wrapped his fingers around one of the two dainty hands wrapped around his neck and kissed the back of it.
"Could it have been effective from the other side of their portal?" Eve put forward. "Phone signals are."
"Perhaps," the old man hummed. "It's possible. In the right circumstances. And this portal: it did nothing when your orb passed through?"
Cassandra, to whom this last remark had been directed, looked up. "Nothing. The orb just disappeared. The room was dark before it reached it, got brighter as the orb got nearer, as if the light was passing through into the room okay, then went dark when the orb went through the portal."
"And the same occurred with the second orb?" Jenkins prodded.
"Exactly the same, except that the room didn't go fully dark as it was still receiving some light from the other two orbs I held back."
Jenkins tugged at his chin and shook his head. "I don't like it. It speaks to a considerably sophisticated illusion the like of which I would expect from an artefact of the same trickster level as Loki's spear. That suggests they have found something suitable to replace the spear with."
"Something like what?" Ezekiel's voice floated down from the mezzanine.
"Loki isn't the only trickster out there," shrugged Flynn, looking up from the book he was nose deep in. "Almost every culture has one somewhere. Some spirit or deity that must be treated with care as the slightest misstep may switch their mercurial nature from beneficent to maleficent. Often they are associated with things humanity needs as much as fears, like fire with Loki and his Celtic counterpart Lugh. Sometimes animals, like Anansi, or crossroads, like Elegua. Sometimes they're male, like Lugh and Loki, other times they're female, like Eris or Laverna."
"Wait, go back," Jenkins cut in sharply, wagging a finger at the Senior Librarian. "Elegua. Correct me if I'm wrong, but he is a god of crossroads and doorways, is he not?"
Flynn stood up straight, the book in his hand forgotten for now. "Doorways like wormholes."
"Exactly!" Jenkins snapped his fingers with the word. "I think we can say we know now who's artefact, if not the artefact itself, our foes are using to replace Loki's Spear."
XXXX
"Hey," Eve hissed in Flynn's ear, dragging him down an aisle of the Library's main floor. "What were you and Jenkins bickering about earlier?"
"Hmm?" Flynn looked round with a blink, his brain clearly screeching to a halt to turn down this new avenue. Wide eyes flicked up, scanning back through the many mishaps of the morning. "Oh, that? Just a question of timing. The briefest difference of opinion."
Flynn turned to return to his previous route. Eve hooked a finger in his collar. When her husband had finished readjusting his extravagantly tied cravat – just as squint as it was before – he turned his face up to meet his wife's stubborn glare.
"Timing how, Librarian?" Eve queried. Folding her arms into the form that usually worked on both Flynn and Ezekiel. "Explain."
"Jenkins and I have been working on the question of where exactly our current nemeses are basing themselves. We know they can use wormholes now," Flynn shrugged. "It opens up a whole new field of possibilities. Now Jenkins and I agree on one thing: wherever they are they're using one of the early touchdown points of the Bifrost – the rainbow bridge that once spanned the space between dimensions, opening up our world to those of Norse mythology, amongst others – as their weak point between worlds. Where there has been a bridge before, the barriers between dimensions are weaker. Easier to break through and open up holes in reality."
"Let me guess," quipped Eve rolling her eyes, "You think one place, Jenkins thinks another?"
"In a nutshell," nodded Flynn.
"But why does that matter? So they can use wormholes" Eve shrugged. "So what? So can we."
Flynn moved Eve further into the side aisle and when he spoke, it was in hushed tones. "It's not about where they are, it's about when they are."
"What do you mean?" Eve breathed, her brows lowering with her voice.
"Do you remember when we stopped the ascension of Loki?" Flynn asked, his hands resting on his wife's shoulders.
Eve's eyes dropped, flicking back and forth through their previous adventures. "Somewhere in Scandinavia, wasn't it?"
"It's not about the where, it's about the when," Flynn reminded her. "Midnight in Scandinavia. But not midnight here. That's what we're worried about. That they'll hit midnight before we do. More importantly, that they'll hit midnight before we're ready."
"Because everything evil has to happen at midnight!" Eve sighed. "Okay, hit me: where do you two genii think they're hiding?"
Flynn released her shoulders and shrugged, his eyes on his feet. "Well, there's more than a few options."
"Flynn," growled Eve.
"It comes down to the strongest link to the first Bifrost point," he allowed. "Jenkins thinks that was somewhere in Scandinavia, hence the proliferation of the myth. I, on the other hand…"
"…disagree?" Eve supplied. "How surprising. Go on then: what do you think?"
"I think the Bifrost predates the Norse culture. I think, if there were humans around when it first touched down, they would have built something – some kind of temple or something – to commemorate the event. Magic wasn't just science we didn't understand then: it was inexplicable, godlike, divine!"
"Not another pyramid!" Eve groaned, shoulder sagging.
"Older than even the pyramids," corrected Flynn.
"What?" Eve frowned, this time in confusion.
"The oldest great temple complex we have yet found is in Turkey. It's called Gobekli Tepe. It's something like eight thousand years old. We know next to nothing about it. It even predates the Library."
"Okay," nodded Eve, shifting her stance automatically as something wound its way between her feet. "Worst case scenario: which one hits midnight first: Turkey or Scandinavia?"
"Turkey," bobbed the Librarian. "but only by an hour."
"An hour?" Eve's voice rose. "You two were bickering over an hour?"
"It could make all the difference," replied Flynn, hands raised in defence.
"It's an hour. We aim for the earliest deadline. If we're ready by then and they're not, all the better for us. If we aim for the later midnight and they're ready first, we're sunk."
"And if we're not ready for the first midnight?" Flynn asked.
"We hope and pray they're in the time zone for the second!"
XXXX
"I wish you luck grandfather," Seonaidh smiled half-heartedly. "Are ye certain I canna help?"
"I am certain, child," sighed Jenkins. "You must stay with the castle. If deprived of a Librarian, the Library will hide itself away. The castle cannot do the same and the artefacts there must not fall into the wrong hands. If you truly want to help me now, you can best do that by taking this worry from my mind and promising me that you will remain safe within those walls."
Seonaidh nodded, averting her eyes from the mirror for a moment. Even without them before him to read, Jenkins saw the worry hidden in those eyes. "Ezekiel. Has he spoken to you recently?"
"Hardly an hour since," replied the young woman, still not meeting her ancient relative's eye.
"Then you know he will be safe. Even if no other returns from this fight, he at least has a future before him. The Mirror of Truth shows just that. If he saw a happy future for you both, then a happy future you shall have." Jenkins stopped. Although her face was turned away from him, he could see the lines of confusion form. "You said you spoke with him."
"Not of this," Seonaidh replied, turning the confused stare in her grandfather's direction. "He said only that he would do his best to keep everyone safe and… and that he loved me."
"Ah…" Jenkins eyes scanned the room, searching for a way out of the hole he had dug for himself.
"What else has he not told me, grandfather?"
"Well now. Um…"
"Grandfather!"
Jenkins rolled his eyes. The child had the very tones of Flora when she spoke in such a way. "I'm not sure how much of it is his alone to tell. Perhaps," he suggested, "we could start by your telling me exactly what passed between you and Mister Jones this lunch time."
