Life After Death

Guinevere: shielded

{Guinevere}

I had done the summoning correctly, but no Corryn appeared. I didn't think that my pentagram was broken; rather, Gawain most likely had him summoned. I wondered why. It was just past lunch and he should have been in school.

I know the responsible thing to do would have been ask my parents to go to the Torninc, but instead, I wrote a note on my desk, and walked down to the library, determined to transport myself. The librarian was getting to know me well in the last couple of days, though he never stuck around long enough for me to even know his name. But the spell book was found quickly, and I looked through it, turning page after page, looking at spells for all sorts of things.

I wondered who had first made spells. I knew the concept; pushing magic into words. Perhaps a word mage and a wizard had created all of these. It was the same idea with runes, only runes were written out. I frowned. But I could trace the runes in the air and I knew enough to get me to the Torninc.

I set the book down on my chair, and stood, concentrating on my fingertips. Circle with three lines, curve up and dashed spiral, and I murmured "Torninc Manor" under my breath.

To my delight, I was immediately dumped in the entry of the manor. It wasn't the most delicate way to travel, but I did it myself.

"Hello?" I called. "It's Guinevere."

No answer. I wandered down a hallway, remembering vaguely that the rooms moved. If the place could move rooms, maybe it could hear me.

"I am looking for Corryn," I said.

A door opened down the hall and I hurried to it. It looked like an old lab, with tables and burners and spell books. On the middle table, a strange metal thing was sitting on old sheet. Dinadan was painting this, and Corryn was reading a spell book. I hadn't seen Dinadan in a while. He never came up to Vercyne, and my mother told me that he spent most of his time in Martel. He looked a lot like Quinn, even with same color hair. But I supposed, most of the Guerre boys looked like their father.

"Hello," I repeated. "I was looking for you."

Corryn grimaced. "I had hoped someone would let you know," he said. "I cannot return to Hell for a couple of days, so I cannot be summoned from it. I will just be here."

"Watching me," Dinadan muttered grumpily.

"Am I as bad as your mother?" Corryn questioned.

Dinadan shook his head, and resumed painting. It almost looked like a bird, but I couldn't think of any metal birds with blue and yellow markings.

"I did not think so," Corryn said. "And I can stand here without consequence. Both your parents would have had to leave now."

I had forgotten that Dinadan was neutral. I could detect a weirdness to the air in here, a little uncomfortable, but I wasn't in any pain.

"I transported here by myself," I informed them.

"Good, so you are working on your magic," Corryn nodded approvingly. "It is always a shame when wizards don't apply themselves."

"What are you reading?" I sat on a stool across from Dinadan, peering at the book. Corryn laughed.

"Not much reading," he admitted. "I cannot turn pages as a ghost. But these books are interesting, when I can convince Dinadan to turn a page."

"Spell books?"

He shook his head. "Potions mainly. I dabbled back when we were at war with Hell. They were easier to use then."

I craned my neck to see the title of the page: Explosive Potives.

"It rhymes?"

Corryn shook his head. "Faeries had a weird sense of humor back then. Do you want to make it?"