I took off my pack and opened one of the front pockets: I had left what I needed there, certain I’d be using it before the day was out. “It” was a brass bell, carefully muffled and wrapped in a bit of flannel. The flannel held a spell of its own (for warmth) so I carefully folded and replaced it before turning my full attention on the bell. It was already charged (with the blood of an entire chicken; strong enough to summon things from up to a quarter mile away) and held an incomplete summoning spell- incomplete because it didn’t yet have a target. I’d have to use more of my own blood to finish the spell off, but that was no matter- I’d drain myself dry to rescue my daughter.
It didn’t require even as much blood as I’d used for the crystal, however; a simple prick of the thumb was more than sufficient to seal things as I fixed the concept of walnut in the bell. There was no time to make it more complex than that, and as I’ve said- walnut was more than rare enough for these parts.
Spell finished, I took a deep breath, and rang the bell. It sang out, a clear and surprisingly loud clang that reverberated through the sun-warmed marsh. For a moment, nothing happened, and my ears filled with the high whine of insects and the low thrum of my own heart. And then, not fifteen feet upstream from me, the mud gave a great heave.
Half a breath later, something shot up out of the mud and flew towards me. I held out my hand automatically to catch it: Thomelisa’s bed, much the worse for wear, and decidedly empty. But that didn’t matter: I was already running to the gaping wound in the earth, before it could refill itself.
I was in time: there on the edge of the crater, sprawled on its warty back, was a large and decidedly dazed-looking toad. I snatched it up from the mud, fighting the urge to crush it in my fury.
“Got you, you piece of excrement! Where is my daughter?”
The toad’s eyes bulged in an ironically frog-like manner, but it said nothing. I growled at it.
“Tell me. Now.”
“Release my son, Skovy!” The voice rang out, shrill and imperious, as full of rage as my own. The use of my name in this place startled me, but not enough to drop my quarry. I scanned the mud around me, trying to find the speaker.
“Not until I have my daughter back,” I said, and pulled a dagger out of my boot. I didn’t need magic to deal with such as these.
“We don’t have her!” the voice said, “And if you don’t drop that knife, you’re going to regret it.”
There. I had her now, squatting low in the tall grass, and glowing with a menacing light. Not a familiar, then. But I did not drop my knife.
“I can play word games, too, you cold blooded bitch,” I spat. “You may not have her, but you had her. Which means you’d better come up with a very good reason for me not eviscerating your son right here and now. I don’t know what sort of spell you’re preparing over there, but it will be interesting to see if you can get it to take effect faster than I can flick my wrist, don’t you think?” I twisted the knife just enough to catch the light, and was satisfied to see her aura settle down a bit.
“You won’t kill him,” she said sternly. “Because if you kill him, I’ll never tell you where she went.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” I replied. “I can be extremely convincing. And that’s before I use a truth spell.”
She paled at that, if a toad can be said to pale, and shifted from side to side.
“Put him down. Let us talk.”
“I don’t think I will. The longer we talk, the further away she gets, I assume. So you’d better start telling me who you gave her to.”
“Croak! Croak! Croak!” said the toad in my hand, struggling a bit in what I finally realized was him shaking his head.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, tightening my hold. “Why doesn’t he speak.”
“Because he’s under a curse, obviously!” the mother toad spat. “He’s trying to tell you we didn’t give her to anyone; she escaped!”
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