With each yard they covered, the pull was a constant. It never waned in all its subtlety. It wasn’t as strong as the tug of Machmüller’s book. Instead, it was like a faint thread, pulling her ever so gently in the vague direction of the mountains in front of them.
The mountains, however, didn’t appear to be getting any closer, any faster.
Despite their ability to fly, they didn’t know the terrain. Considering there were pockets of hot and cold air blasting up that interfered with their flight, they had to be careful. There was also the occasional flying menace that reminded Quinn of pictures she’d seen of pterodactyls, so flying up high was a bad idea. Their movement speed seemed to be a little slower than a car in a residential area. That seemed about right.
But the journey was taking way longer than she’d expected.
She glanced over as Geneva was sideswiped by a hot gust of air from the ground. Geneva lost control very briefly, regaining control as she spiraled tumultuously head over foot for several feet. She shook her head and rejoined them as they waited for her.
Eric smirked. “Ooh, little Faye, lost control of your wings?” he teased.
“You wouldn’t have fared any better,” she retorted.
The two of them bickered as they traveled, lending background sound to the journey.
Quinn thought that since the ordeal on Ishiposa Isle, Geneva had hardened ever so slightly. She wasn’t mousy anymore. She spoke up and stood up for herself. Quinn was proud of her evolution, even if she regretted the circumstances under which the Firionas Fae had to evolve.
And Eric, she’d really missed Eric, especially his banter. As the two of them argued and fought, it was actually quite entertaining. They never missed a beat, not even after a couple of hours from Quinn’s calculations.
“Is that like an enchantment or something?” she asked, gesturing to the mountains ahead of them that still seemed just as far away.
Hal shook his head, but he did focus on it, squinting. “No, no, it really is that far away. I’m not sensing anything discombobulating, nothing misleading, no sense of illusion.”
Quinn nodded. She didn’t sense anything either. She was, however, quite focused on the fact that the book, or as she was beginning to suspect, perhaps books, were pulling her towards their destination, or beckoning, was probably the better term for it. Would Druvala sense her before they got there? If so, how soon?
She slowed down and paused. “Let’s eat,” she said. “I’m feeling really peckish.”
Granted, her flying, well, sort of hovering flying that she was doing right now, took energy, but she had so much of it since the synchronization, it didn’t even make a dent. Her ability to regenerate it had increased so much that she basically would have gained 30 mana every minute, if it had been possible to gain more mana than she could hold. She wondered if that was something she could leech off, her mana regeneration, and perhaps create an essence or a potion for the excess.
“Quinn,” Jasper said, and Quinn actually looked at Jasper for the first time since they’d gotten there, really looked at her. Her friend looked slightly nervous and perturbed.
“You don’t spend much time away from home, do you?” Quinn asked suddenly.
“No, I’m much more comfortable with a lot of trees or enclosed spaces.” Her gaze flitted about, nervousness evident.
“It’s okay, stick next to me. I’ll let my imposing aura drench you so you feel enclosed.”
Jasper stared at her for about two seconds before she burst into laughter. “Thanks, Quinn, needed that.”
Aradie cooed happily once more, sitting on Quinn’s shoulder. Glancing back from where they’d come, Quinn did a double-take. The little hut village they’d been at, where they’d met Ara and acquainted themselves with the area, was not even visible anymore. She could still see the sloping rolling green hills that led up to the beautiful mountains beyond them, and vaguely could still glimpse little dots all over the hillside of the different packs of animals or herds of animals that littered them. Since she hadn’t inspected the creatures, she wasn’t exactly sure what they were called, and thus wasn’t sure if they were a herd, a pack, a parliament, or a murder.
“We really traveled that far already,” she muttered under her breath and turned to face the destination, which, again, seemed no closer than it was before.
Malakai nudged her. “You’re over-analyzing everything, Quinn.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Sit, eat,” he said, and waved to where everybody else had already sat except for Hal, who stood several paces beyond their group, frowning at the mountain above them.
She desperately wanted to ask him what he thought, but she got the distinct feeling that when he was ready he’d tell her.
Eric and Geneva continued to quarrel.
“What is your problem?” Geneva asked.
Eric bristled. “I don’t have a problem. There should only be room for one of us.”
“Yes, and I’m a healer, so I’m preferable.”
“You’re only a partial healer,” Eric scoffed. “You’re nowhere near as...”
But he stopped and Quinn was quite certain he’d been going to say that she was nowhere near as good as Nishpa and blessed whatever element of self-preservation the imp had not to have said it to Nishpa’s niece. It was clear that Geneva knew what he was going to say too, and a flash of appreciation passed through her gaze.
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“There’s room for the both of us,” she said. “Just stop being an insufferable prat.”
Instead of retaliating, Eric actually chuckled. Quinn foresaw a beautiful friendship, hopefully at least for the next 48 hours.
They ate their food and Quinn stood back up, brushing herself off. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She wasn’t thirsty. She had a dull headache, and the tug pulled right in the center of her chest. She frowned.
“Do you think we’ll make it there before dark?” she asked.
Hal shrugged. “I am not entirely sure, but we do have quite a few more hours, so how about we just get going?”
Quinn nodded, and they took flight once more.
Surely, but very slowly, the mountain inched closer. Malakai walked in silence next to Jasper, and they jostled to be closer to Quinn, though Hal was the closest. As they flew, they stayed shoulder to shoulder, but it just made Quinn feel even shorter, given Hal’s size. Meanwhile, Eric and Geneva quipped back and forth, and Aradie flew overhead.
“You are being quiet, little egg, a lot quieter than I’m used to,” Hal muttered.
Quinn frowned. “It’s… you feel a sensation?”
He observed her from a side-eye. “That tugging you mentioned?”
“Yeah, it’s…” she paused, as if trying to figure it out. “It’s a little different from the Machmüller’s text was, and I’m trying to figure out how.”
“Well, you are a lot more sensitive now. You’re not used to the extension of your abilities. Thus, are you sure you’re not just being hypersensitive?” He wasn’t asking in a condescending sort of way. He was obviously genuinely curious.
Quinn shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure.”
After a couple of moments, he spoke again. “We’re getting close enough now that if Druvala is in one of those mountains, she’s going to be able to smell you soon, little egg. And even though she won’t wake up immediately, it’ll probably push her to wakefulness. You realize this, yes?”
Quinn nodded, fully aware of it, and suddenly thought to ask a question. “You’re, like, really old, right?”
Hal threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, I’m, like, really old. Almost as old as your brethren.”
Quinn nodded. “So, have you met Druvala before?”
“Oh yes,” he said, and his tone changed ever so slightly. She couldn’t figure out if it was melancholy or simmering resentment. “I’ve met all of them. I’ve worked with all of them.”
Quinn blinked at him. “All of them?”
“Yes, all of them. I’ve been around since the Library was founded. I was young and impulsive then, but so were the rest of my siblings. There was no need yet to defend my home.”
Quinn nodded, taking that in. “So, how long haven’t you seen Druvala for?”
“Oh,” he said, thumbing his chin. “I haven’t seen her in probably a mega-annum.” He nodded to himself, as if confirming it. “Oh, at least.”
Quinn balked and stopped, causing Malakai and Jasper to pull up short to avoid running into her. “You haven’t seen her in a million years?”
“And how old did you think the universe was, Quinn?” He asked matter-of-factly. The others had all surreptitiously chosen to stop a little way away from them as they had this discussion.
“I didn’t, really.” she shrugged.
“We need to fix that human perception of yours. It’s completely outdated and screwing everything up for you,” He sighed, and Quinn realized that the previous mood was melancholy. This was irritation. “I haven’t seen her in a very long time. Neither has the Library.”
Quinn nodded, trying to get a grip on the vastness of ages and alliances and everything. While she’d been technically aware, having it presented in this light really put things into a different perspective. She sighed, and they all began moving again.
Hal shrugged. “A million years, give or take.”
Quinn glared at him.
No matter how far they went and how fast they made themselves go, the mountain base only inched closer. It was excruciatingly slow. Another gust of hot air caught both Quinn and Eric, and she was glad she was quick enough to hover herself down and her control over flight. Eric, on the other hand, squealed with delight, did several somersaults, and bolted back to the group to stand and yell: “Again!”
“And how old are you?” Quinn asked, trying to hold back laughter.
“I’m almost 8,000 years old. We’ve been over this. If you just let yourself go, you could enjoy it too,” he said, very smugly.
“Don’t pick on the egg,” Hal admonished.
Finally, after what felt like countless hours, they made it to the base of the mountain. At its foot, the ground spread out in a flat manner. A very convenient camping area. Quinn pondered it, having come to be suspicious of convenience when it appeared simply for the sake of it being convenient. “Do you think we should push on and try to explore the mountain now?”
“No,” Hal was frowning again.
“Are you feeling something, too?” Quinn asked.
“Perhaps.”
Aradie swooped down, alighting on Quinn’s shoulder, hooting and cooing in response as if she too was unsettled. Even Jasper hugged herself tighter.
“Are you okay, Jasper?” Quinn asked.
“I’m just hoping there are caves in that thar hill because I really need to just get inside.”
Malakai frowned. “Sorry, I’m no use. Point me at an enemy and I’ll slice them for you. But right now, I can’t even project anything.”
Hal glanced at him. “Just a couple more days, Malakai. You’ll appreciate the restraint when your magic still works.”
The elf sighed and nodded. “I know you’re right, but I don’t have to like it.”
“Never said you did, mate,” Hal said, chuckling to himself.
“Yeah, let’s just set up camp,” Quinn said. “I’m hungry again. It had been hours, after all.
“I could eat a fizz boodle,” Eric said, as if that explained everything.
“A fizz boodle?” Quinn asked.
“Haven’t you had a look at any of the information on imps? We are very magical creatures, and there are certain things that we absolutely love and are a complete and utter delicacy for us.” Eric grinned and flashed his tiny sharp teeth.
Quinn paused. “Seriously?”
“He’s being serious, but also facetious,” Hal said, suppressing a laugh.
They made themselves busy setting up camp, rationing food, handing out sleeping packs. Quinn had never been so grateful for dimensional storage before in her life, and really wished that Earth had enough ambient mana to utilize it, because it would make so many things, especially taking textbooks to school, much easier. Despite the rampant use of technology in schools, some of them still insisted on whopping 500-page hardback textbooks. Way to kill kids’ spines.
They ate and got ready for bed. except Quinn couldn’t shake the tugging. It was ever so slightly more insistent now. She was quite certain that there was more than one book up there. But from the feel of the signature she remembered from Jasper’s summoning, it wasn’t Crown’s book, just the Parsneauvian one. But it really felt like there was more than one book there. A bulk she didn’t understand that felt like a book. It could be the ones they’d yet to identify, and it sent shivers down her back, because something about everything felt very wrong, and they still had a long way to go.
Doors didn’t open into igneous rock. It made getting here so difficult. And there had to be a reason for that.
She sighed and snuggled down to sleep, only to wake suddenly a few hours later. She sat up with a start and realized Hal was already outside the tent, having taken watch because he said he didn’t need sleep. She snuck out to join him.
“You sense it too, eh, little egg,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” she said, her senses extended. All she knew was they were not alone.