This helped calm the Arachnid.
“Flip him over,” Jinxton ordered himself.
He hesitated for the slightest of moments, then put a snarl on his face and did as he was told. Maybe I’m losing my mind already. He flipped Ignatius over without a problem and grabbed the ropes. The closer he got to the wizard, the more the restraints glowed a dim orange.
They still work! After all these years, they still work.
Tying them was simple, especially when one possessed six arms. He wrapped them around the wizard’s wrists then looped them back around his ankles.
Right before Jinxton’s eyes, Ignatius’s skin drained of color. The Arachnid silently thanked the spirit of his father, who had been killed in battle, for having bestowed such a gift on him all those years ago.
Ignatius didn’t even wake up over the course of the tying. If he had, the wizard would’ve been useless.
Just as Jinxton began to lift Ignatius up, an explosion and a scream rocked the ground behind them. Jinxton’s muscles tensed. He whirled around, and there was the other wizard, trying to get the headless body of the dead soldier off of him.
Not dead, Jinxton noted.
The thought of killing the second wizard crossed his mind; how sweet it would be! But there was no time. Jinxton could hear the ghost of his father telling him to take his wins while he could, and having Ignatius Mangood neutered of all magic was definitely a win.
So Jinxton ran like the coward he secretly was.
Through much struggling, Salem cleared the dead Arachnid from himself. When unconsciousness was about to take him, the crystal around his neck lit up and buzzed against his skin.
Maria’s voice filled the air, the loudest thing in the clearing except for Salem’s pounding heart.
“Salem? Salem?” Maria paused. “Should I say ‘over’? Is this really like a walkie talkie? Oh, who cares. I can’t get ahold of Gramps. I repeat, I can’t get ahold of Gramps. Is everything all right?”
Using all the energy he had left in his body, he lifted his arm up and grabbed the necklace, then pulled it closer to his mouth to reply. The magic buzzed in his palm.
His voice was weak, but he managed to speak nonetheless. “Taken…they took him. Send Agnes.”
“Taken? Who? Salem, answer me!”
“Arach…”
Salem let his head fall back against the dead Arachnid, and his eyes closed. Before the wave of unconsciousness took him, he pushed a small button on the bottom of the communication crystal. The light inside blinked—on, off, on, off.
The crystal would send his location to Maria and Agnes, the possessors of the other crystals.
Then all would be good again.
Chapter Seven
After Gelbus had finished his Eggos—one of the most delicious breakfast items he’d ever had the honor of eating, by the way, especially drowned in syrup—but before Salem and Ignatius had gone to be ambushed by Harry and the Arachnids, Ignatius, Maria, and Frieda sat at the table and discussed their plans.
Gelbus had decided that, since he was not going to be much help in recovering the Jewel of Deception (nor did he want to be; he’d heard the rumors of its dark powers), he would go hang out with his newest friend, Sherlock, in his so-called ‘office’.
Sherlock had his back to the door when Gelbus slipped in. Gelbus cleared his throat, and the dog jumped at the sound, quickly spinning and trying to cover whatever he had been doing. Curious, the Gnome walked into the office, pretending he didn’t notice as Sherlock shook his head. After all, as far as he knew, dogs of Earth were not supposed to communicate with other species unless by barking. Normal human gestures, such as nodding, were lost on canines.
Gelbus giggled when he saw what the dog had been hiding: a stack of magazines almost as high as Gelbus, each one titled something to do with felines, or ‘cats,’ as those on Earth commonly called them.
Gelbus didn’t know much about cats besides the fact that they were often quite finicky and walked around like they owned the place. He supposed they were cute and cuddly, especially when they were kittens, but would he want to befriend one like he had befriended Sherlock?
No.
“No need to worry, Sherlock. I won’t tell anyone.”
Sherlock looked up at Gelbus, his eyes gleaming.
“There’s not much to be ashamed of, anyway. Nothing wrong with liking cats. A dog, like a human or a Gnome or a Light Elf, should like everyone for who they are,” Gelbus explained. He walked over to the dog crate and sat down on the bundled blankets that acted as a cushion. They smelled pretty bad, but Gelbus hardly noticed. Then Sherlock did his best impression of an Arachnid. Gelbus knew because the dog stood on his hind legs and growled almost exactly like an Arachnid would. “Yes, I know, I know. But just because one or a few Arachnids were bad doesn’t mean they all are. Same goes for cats and humans. Like people for who they are, not for their species or their looks.”
Sherlock watched the Gnome with interest, cocking his head and letting his ears droop.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to wax poetic,” Gelbus waved a hand.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Frieda stuck her head in the door, surprising them both.
“Hey, Ignatius is about to leave with Salem,” Frieda said. “To take our minds off of all the violence and war, Agnes, Maria, and I were going to do something fun, see the sights a bit. It’s not every day you get to see another world.”
Gelbus turned to Sherlock and said, “See? Case in point.”
Sherlock nodded.
Frieda asked, “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just teaching Sherlock a valuable life lesson.” He chuckled at the absurdity of the statement. “All those years spent in the library, and I think I’ve acquired the gumption to teach ‘life lessons.’ Oh boy.”
Frieda
