The House of Yeel - By Michael McCloskey Page 0,12

had been forced to take the effort to remember. It would have been too dangerous to do otherwise.

“Yeel. Formerly of the Meridalae. You remember me. I’m flattered.”

“Truly, I had estimated your demise to be the highest probability given the absence of the harapins which you oversaw. I see that in this case the improbable has occurred, an unfortunate turn of events for me to be sure.” As Yeel spoke one of his tentacles wormed its way into his reagent pack. He covered the movement by planting the idea that he scratched his beard in his observer’s minds.

“You thought me dead? As it happens, two large firkir serpents, a mated pair, stumbled upon the aerie.” The twisted old man massaged his bandaged arm. “It was quite a battle, I assure you.”

As Faverhind finished speaking, a thin ring of green flame snapped into being around him, floating in the air at the level of his chest. He cast a bone onto the ground at his side.

“You do appear to have degenerated somewhat since our last encounter. It is unfortunate that you did not find yourself eaten, consumed, down the gullet of one of those noble reptiles,” Yeel ranted. “Without you, the universe would have spiraled to ever greater heights I have no doubt. I contemplate no other result of the termination of your existence.”

As Yeel spoke, Faverhind formed complex sigils with his hands and muttered to himself. The green flame ring left the wizard and floated above the bone on the ground.

“The years have not shortened your tongue, Yeel,” Faverhind growled. The old man slipped his good arm into a fold of his ragged garment.

A dense shadow began to form in the ring of fire. The silhouette formed into a sinister shape with broad shoulders and a horned head. Jymoor stood rigid and stared, her eyes wide. Yeel’s tentacle had found its goal in his reagent pack, and he launched into a tirade to cover his action.

“I see no reason to limit one’s speech. Don’t you find it liberating to fully express yourself at your leisure, without concern for self-imposed boundaries on your means of expression? Better too much said than not enough, that’s my view on the subject. Speak and speak more, as silence is an abhorrent abyss lacking thought and reason!”

At the end of this diatribe, Yeel found himself talking to two slumped bodies. The shadow being snarled. It fixed its eyes of green flame onto Yeel for a moment, then began to fade. The eyes sank toward the ground as the shadow body evaporated, guttering then disappearing as they struck the ground.

A loud snore erupted from Jymoor. His sleeping formula had worked rapidly, rendering the nearby mammalians helpless.

“I’ve beaten you this time, Faverhind,” Yeel said. “So very different from last time…so ends my imprisonment…and yours begins.”

***

Jymoor stirred, opening her eyes ever so slightly. Bright sunlight poured past her lids. It must be the middle of the day, she thought.

“Erm. Hmm,” she mumbled.

“You return to consciousness! Excellent! Perhaps our journey may now resume? I estimate a high probability that it may!”

“Lord Yeel! What happened?”

“I apologize, my friend,” Yeel soothed the scout. “I was forced to release an anesthetic gas in order to control the situation. I’m afraid that you were overcome by the fumes. This was unfortunate but I felt that the need overrode the slight chance that any permanent damage might have been rendered to your person.”

“Ah, what?” fumbled Jymoor. A yawn escaped her.

“I had to put you to sleep. I apologize for that, but it was for the best, I assure you.”

“Oh,” Jymoor said. “Where’s Faverhind?”

“Faverhind? Where is he? Ah, a natural question. You do have a sharp memory, don’t you? I felt sure you didn’t have time to remember him. He’s no longer here. I removed him from the area, placed him in holding, a neutral place of stasis where he can no longer offer danger to anyone.”

“You used your magic to transport him away from here?”

“Well actually it was a matter of…hmm.” Yeel’s brows knitted for a second and then a smile broke across the thin face. “Yes, it was magic; actually, now that I think about it, magic is exactly the method I employed. Raw mystical power, of which I command a weighty amount on a daily basis. You guessed it exactly.”

“Is he…dead?”

“Well in some senses of the word,” Yeel said. “Dead to many…dead to most. The universe still remembers him, as do we. Dead and yet alive, as it were; the simple black and