stop Nico until Typhon comes or until Typhon sends Fellwroth. Fellwroth is red-eyes-man. Typhon visit with emerald to watch Nico sleep every four autumns. This should be an autumn when Typhon comes to watch Nicosleep. And Typhon promised he’d come when I used big parchments. And if Typhon can’t come, he send Fellwroth of the red eyes.”
“John, you’re not making sense.”
John shook his head. “Typhon said Nico no go. He needs to watch Nico sleep every four years. Touches the scar with the emerald. Typhon said he would come, but there must be something stopping him. It’s Fellwroth red-eyes-man that’s coming, then. Typhon says use parchments to stop Nico until Fellwroth comes.”
“John,” Nicodemus cried, “you don’t know what you’re talking about! John, help me!”
The big man shook his head. “Red beard, black shiny skin, that’s Typhoneus…says also put this”—he held up the other parchment—“until he sends Fellwroth of the red eyes. He says he fix us; he makes Nico not go.” With that John reached into the second parchment and pulled out a spell.
At first, only golden Numinous runes could be seen, but then the spell congealed into a brown and green construct. The thing was as large as a man’s head. Its fat, mucus-covered body resembled a toad with its stomach torn out. Its bulging eyes shone with animal greed. A foot-long tongue flopped from its toothless mouth. Nicodemus yelled in wordless terror.
John was yelling too, but he did not let go of the spell. “Nico not cry. Simple John has to.” He grabbed Nicodemus’s free arm to stop him from struggling and held out the slimy text. Like an infant searching for a nipple, the construct reached for Nicodemus’s head.
Nicodemus jerked and twisted his neck, but to no avail. The creature slid its cold hind legs around his throat and dug the tiny claws of its forelegs into his scalp. The spell’s soft underbelly spread itself across his head like a gruesome hat.
“John!” Nicodemus exclaimed hoarsely. “This is a censorship spell! Get it off me! John, please!”
With a gurgling burp, the toadlike text converted its tongue back into Numinous runes and plunged it into Nicodemus’s head, censoring two common language sentences he had been writing. The glowing white runes stiffened and fell from his shoulder to shatter on the floor. “John! Get it off me!” Nicodemus shouted, struggling to free his arm from the big man’s grip. “Get it off me!”
“Shhhhh,” Simple John pleaded. He patted Nicodemus’s arm. “No cry, Nico. Man will fix brokenpeople. Typhon said bad men and monsters will try to get to us. But Simple John protect. Typhon teach John spell for throwing.” In his right hand John held a leadshot spell. It was a simple attackspell—a dense ball of common language that weighed no more than a cork when cast, but once free of the caster’s body it took on the mass of a large lead shot. “Nico not cry,” John cooed, and squeezed his arm.
Suddenly the creaking of door hinges filled the room.
John jumped up and cast the leadshot with a powerful overhand throw and a cry of “Bad men!”
Somewhere something heavy smacked into flesh. A body collapsed and John yelled triumphantly.
With his free arm Nicodemus pulled at the censorship spell, but the construct strengthened its grip around his neck.
Frantically looking for anything that could help him, he caught sight of his bedsheet satchel lying open on the floor. On the white cloth sat the wooden sphere with the root growing around it, Deirdre’s Seed of Finding! He stretched out his hand, but the artifact lay just an inch beyond his reach. He threw his arm back and forth to swing the cocoon.
A few steps away, John lumbered out of Nicodemus’s view while making confused “ah…ah…” sounds. When the cocoon swung toward his satchel, Nicodemus managed to touch the Seed of Finding with the tip of his middle finger. But he could not grasp it and swung away.
As if sensing danger, the censorship tightened its grip on his scalp.
When the cocoon swung back, Nicodemus put his every effort into reaching for the druidic artifact; he would have willed his arm to disjoint from his shoulder if it meant he could reach the artifact.
But there was no need: he caught the wooden sphere between his index and middle fingers. Careful not to drop it, he maneuvered the ball so that his thumb and index finger pressed on either side of the artifact. By pinching hard, he broke the root.