Episode 9: For The Sword, Chapter 4

Breakfast was always a favourite meal of Cassandra's. It had been the one and only meal that she could guarantee having both parents present at, at least for most of her childhood. Breakfast in a Scottish castle was a new experience, though. There was traditional porridge, for starters. None of that 'just add milk and microwave' nonsense here: this was made with pinhead oatmeal and had been soaking in salted water all night. There was bacon and eggs with mushrooms, sausages and black pudding too, with a pile of potato scones to mop up the juices and sauces. There was orange juice and coffee, and a rack of toast with pats of butter and pots of jam and marmalade if anyone still had room. Cassandra nearly finished the rack.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with your appetite, anyway," smiled Flora, seating herself at the table in the castle's dining room. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"I feel fine," Cassandra replied, washing down the last of the toast with some orange juice. "I just wish I knew what happened. It hasn't done that before."

"To my knowledge, 'before' in your case is a fairly limited level of experience," mused the old woman. "You have only used this new ability once, am I right?"

"Twice," Cassandra corrected her.

Stone looked up from plate in surprise. "When?"

"Oh, just when you boys were off rescuing Leo," she shrugged, tidying her used crockery to avoid meeting his eyes. "Nothing major."

"And this was the first time you used magic in this way?" Flora asked. Cassandra nodded. "Tell me what happened. In detail."

"Um..." Cassandra looked from Flora to Stone.

"What happened, Cassie?" Stone frowned, folding his arms and sitting back.

"I swear it's nothing bad," she replied, holding up a hand, "but it involves things I can't tell you until later."

"What kind of things?" Stone's eyes narrowed. "How much later?"

"Maid of Honour and Bride things," she shrugged, biting her lip. "And after the wedding?"

He rolled his eyes and got up, lifting his coffee cup and pushing his chair in. "Fine. You keep your girly secrets. I'll be in the study."

When the door had closed behind him, Cassandra turned back to Flora and began her story. "We were in New York, looking for a bridal gown for Eve. She's so fussy. Then we found our way to this tiny little shop down a side street in Tribeca..."

XXXX

"One Singing Sword of Conaire Mor," cried Jones, parading triumphantly through the back door. It was difficult for one person to be a parade, but he managed it.

"Put it in the umbrella rack just now," said Flynn, without looking round. "We need you here."

"Give it to Leo," Jenkins countered immediately, waving a hand at the maestro glaring at him from the other side of the desk. "We don't want anyone picking it up by mistake."

Jones walked past the umbrella stand and presented the sword to da Vinci, who took it in a gloved hand and hurried off in the direction of the Library. Continuing to the central desk, the thief joined Flynn, Jenkins and Baird in their council of war. The glowing globe of ley lines hovered over their heads.

"What did I miss?" Ezekiel asked. "Bad guys being bad?"

"They have Loki's Spear," said Jenkins. "Three foot long javelin made of mistletoe. Just as Loki used it in the myths to manipulate Hod into killing Balder, so the wielder can use it to manipulate others into doing whatever he likes. I would say he or she, but since we know the person intending to use the spear is our ever so trustworthy Professor Wilkins, it hardly seems apt."

"So he's got the spear," Jones nodded. "All is not lost, though. Right? He still needs other stuff. Stuff for the binding ritual?"

"We think he may have those too," said Baird, pointing at a faint blue line. "We got news that a dragon was killed in Croatia..."

"So now we know where Ascalon is," interjected Flynn.

"Or Gram," Jenkins reminded him.

"And we put the globe on to see if there were any other drains on the ley lines," Baird continued without missing a beat.

"So this thing can sense a disturbance in the force?" Jones quipped, pointing upwards.

"Only very large ones," Flynn explained, oblivious. "I'm sure a computer, or Cassandra, could pick up smaller changes, but we can only see the larger ones. This one was only just large enough to spot."

"The dragon?" Jones' brows knitted in confusion. "I thought you said it was in Croatia?"

"Oh, the dragon showed up like a white cat in a coal scuttle," replied Jenkins. "No, it was the artefact linked to this line here," he indicated the spot with a lecturer's pointer, "that we're seeing the smaller decrease in."

"Are we waiting on a drum roll?" Jones enquired.

"It's the Well of Wishes," sighed Baird, as Jenkins and Flynn frowned at each other over Ezekiel's head. "We think someone has stolen some water from it. It'll replenish the water in time, but it's what someone can do with what's been taken that's worrying us."

"And I'm guessing becoming an avatar of an evil fire slash trickster god slash giant is among the realms of possibility here," sighed Jones. "What does the dragon have to do with it?"

"Dragon's blood has long been linked with immortality, amongst other things," replied Jenkins. "Reginn the smith instructed Sigurd, the Norse hero, to dig a pit and hide in it to kill the dragon Fafnir, with the aforementioned sword, Gram. Sigurd would have drowned in the blood had Odin, in the guise of an old man, not warned him to dig drainage channels also. Odin also told him not to avoid the blood, though, as it would make his skin impervious to any weapon."

"I thought Beowulf's dragon had corrosive blood?" Jones frowned. "That didn't seem to grant anyone immortality."

"Well, yes," Jenkins nodded. "Different dragons, different legends, different properties. In Slavic mythology, dragons have different personalities, and different elemental forces, depending on their gender. They also have multiple heads, which keep growing back, and their blood will not be absorbed by the earth, apparently. Sounds more like some relation of the Hydra, if you ask me, though."

"So a liquid that grants immortality, plus a liquid that grants wishes, plus the talisman of a god," Jones summed up. "Anything else they need?"

"The right place and the right time," answered Flynn. "The time will be midnight on December thirty first, as we move from one year to the next. The place we're not too sure of, yet."

"You do realise that December thirty first is the day after tomorrow, right?" Jones winced. "In fact, for Stone and Cassandra's time zone, it already is tomorrow!"

"Which is why," began the Colonel, "we need all hands on deck. I suggest Jenkins inform Stone and Flora about our new situation and get them working on it there. Maybe we could even get him and Cassandra working on it here, now she's woken up."

"She's awake?" Ezekiel looked up, his smile faltering. "Why didn't you call me?"

"No, you cannot go and see her," said Jenkins automatically. "She will be home soon enough and we all know she wouldn't be the only person you were going to see."

XXXX

"Well?" Jacob looked up from the scroll he was reading. The large, ornately carved desk in the study had been covered in the scrolls and books from his much smaller one in Cassandra's room. "What'd your fairy godmother have to say about your secret escapades with The Bride."

"She's not Uma Thurman, you know," Cassie laughed, plucking the scroll out of his hands and seating herself on his lap.

"Yeah, Baird's much scarier!" Jacob grinned, wrapping his arms around her. "I'd like to see Uma Thurman take on a real live minotaur. There ain't a shortage of chairs you know."

Cassie looked down at his arms and smiled. "Well, I can't get up now, can I? Besides, I haven't seen you in two whole weeks. I've missed you."

"You were unconscious," laughed Jacob.

"It still counts," she half-shrugged, still smiling.

"So you gonna tell me the prognosis?" Jacob asked, sobering slightly. "Or is that top secret too?"

"We don't really know," she replied, her smile faltering. "About the prognosis, I mean, not the top secret. Flora says its like Jenkins explained it: every time we are affected by magic, some of it lingers. Eventually, it'll build up to a level we can use, just like Flora and Flynn and Jenkins. Judson too, I guess. The difference with me is that the magic is interfering with my synaesthesia, kind of like the tumour did, but in a less definitively terminal way..."

He winced. "Now when you say definitively..."

"Nobody's ever mixed magic and synaesthesia before, sweetie, not that either of us know of," she said softly, kissing his forehead. "It's uncharted territory. Flora thinks I'll be okay once I've learned how to control it properly."

He became aware that his arms had tightened around her involuntarily and loosened his hold. "So that's why you passed out? You lost control?"

"In a way," she nodded. "I was drawing so much magical energy from the boxes around me I didn't notice when my own reserves dried up. I was out until they recharged. It was like I was using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut."

"Wait, what do you mean 'recharged'?" Jacob held up a hand. "Recharged from what?"

"From here, of course," Cassie laughed. "It's called the Fairy Tower for a reason, genius!"

"And there was me thinkin' it was 'cause of all them princesses in fairy tales," he grinned. On the desk beside them, his phone buzzed. He picked it up. "Jenkins! You want to talk to sleeping beauty here?" Stone's face fell. "Fire up the door. I'll be ready in five."

"What?" Cassandra asked, getting up as he released his hold on her. "What's wrong?"

"Got a lead on those bad guys you were worried about," he replied, piling up the books, notebooks and scrolls and kissing her cheek. "Team needs me there right away, all hands on deck."

"All hands on deck means both of us," she retorted, blocking his route. "I'm coming too."

"Darlin' maybe you should stay here until we know more about..."

"Don't patronise me, Jacob, that does not end well for you," she cut in. "Ever."

"We can't risk you knocking yourself out again at," he paused, seeing the fixed glare on her face. "Maybe we can."

Jacob turned to watch his girlfriend stride out of the room, her head held defiantly high. "Dammit, that woman's scarier than Baird and The Bride put together!"

XXXX

"How go the preparations?" The queen asked, walking through the minuscule village.

"Well, my queen," Wilkins replied. "I still think it would have been safer to remove the inhabitants permanently, however."

"Nonsense," she replied. "Less than two dozen houses, and half of them empty at this time of year anyway? Far easier to allow the rest to 'win a holiday' somewhere warm for New Year. The only ones who didn't go were the farmers, and there's only two of them at opposite ends of the place. If they pose a problem tomorrow night, they are easily subdued."

"You are right, of course," he nodded a small bow.

"Of course I am," she smirked. "And what of the Librarian and his little band of followers?"

"Nothing, my queen," answered Wilkins, shaking his head. "Not since their escape from our vault."

"Their escape," she huffed out a derisive laugh. "Your bungling. Now those were three meddlers that you could have removed permanently. I suggest you do so, should fate grant you a second opportunity!"

"I though, if a blood sacrifice were required..."

"You did not think, and there we have the problem, Wilkins," she spat. "We are surrounded by blood sacrifices, all willing. Why risk everything on getting even with your little thief and his friends?"

"Everything is ready, my queen," he reiterated, attempting to sound jovial. "They can't stop us now."

"Don't be so foolish, man, of course they can!" The queen snapped, stopping and turning to face him. "I have watched this Librarian for the best part of a decade. Greater men than you have underestimated him and lived to regret it. My predecessor alone fell foul of his merry band and their antics far more often than he would have liked us to believe, and we all know how well that ended for him."

"Yes, my queen," Wilkins quailed, bowing deeper this time. "I shall redouble the watchers."

She nodded sagely, condescending to smile. "See that you do."