Read Online Scars of Silver by S.A. Archer - Free Book Online Page B

some fey
fella named “Rand” hung out around here. Seemed a pretty unlikely
place to Malcolm. Not even any houses in sight. She’d said if he
followed the instructions it would call him out somehow. Maybe this
Rand guy fished the river or something.
    “This is so stupid.” He jammed the paper back in his
pocket. “So bloody stupid.” Stupid or not, Malcolm hiked back to
the stream. He jerked his shirt off and used it to gather a load of
egg sized river stones. Back at the trees he spilled them out in
more or less of an oval. He kicked them around until the shape was
as close to a circle as he could manage.
    Once satisfied, he fished out his lighter and the
pocketful of herbs Flora gave him. Malcolm thought her name sounded
phony, but who cared? She’d not given him the book, just the
instructions and a nickel’s worth of dried out weeds.
    After a couple of failed attempts to set fire to the
fist sized pile in the middle of the circle, Malcolm scooped the
herbs back up and wrapped them up in the paper from his pocket. He
put the wad on the ground and set it alight. The flame died down to
a glow of smoldering ash, threatening to burn itself out, when with
a sudden whoosh the herbs ignited into a massive smoke bomb.
    Coughing, Malcolm stumbled back. The sooty smoke
burned his eyes and he scrubbed at them. The smoke rose through the
trees, reaching like a beacon into the clear sky.
    Flora instructed Malcolm to hum or sing to lure the
supposedly timid fey out of hiding. Seemed about the dumbest thing,
on top of all the other dumb stuff he’d done already. Malcolm gave
the ring of rocks and smoke signal about five minutes to kick in.
When no fey showed up he started humming “Danny Boy.”
    “Is your head a Marley?”
    Malcolm spun about. “Rand?” The guy glared at him.
Whoever he was, he was no farmer peeved at some punk trespasser.
Not in those pressed slacks and clean button-up shirt with the
purple sheen of silk. Realizing he was shirtless, Malcolm shook out
his wet and dirty t-shirt and yanked it back on. “I… Just…” He
scrubbed his dirty hands on his jeans.
    “Put it out, fey boy.” The guy pointed to the
smoldering bundle.
    Malcolm stomped out the ashes, choking on the smoke.
Fey boy? Without even asking, Malcolm could feel the difference in
the guy. Felt the vibe from him like prickling heat on his skin.
“You are fey, right?”
    “Shut up and come here already.” Rand snatched
Malcolm by the back of the neck. Before Malcolm could squawk a
protest they vanished from the bright sunny wood.

Chapter Three
     
     
    One second he’d been in a summer wood. The next
second Malcolm found himself in the shadowed depths of a cave.
Luminescent moss glowed with ambient light as if by some
enchantment. The weak light glinted off the wet cave walls. The
place stank like molded socks and over-used cat litter. Malcolm
brought the back of his hand up to his nose, as if that might
prevent the onslaught to his nasal passages.
    “Dark Rot! Get your filthy arse out here!” Rand
shouted into the depths of the cave.
    Disoriented, Malcolm dropped to his knees, which hurt
like heck on the uneven stony ground, but that pain didn’t
completely cut through the confusion frying his brain. His
questions gasped out so fast they almost tumbled over each other.
“What happened? How’d we get here? What is this place?”
    The guy only sneered at Malcolm.
    Not good.
    A scuttling sound echoed from the deep. Malcolm
scrambled to his feet and ducked behind Rand.
    A platoon of green-skinned creatures scurried up the
cave, filling it from wall to wall with their leathery, naked
bodies. Goblins? Huge eyes reflected evilly. Sharp irregular teeth
protruded from their opened mouths, like their teeth were too big
to wrap their lips closed over them. They hissed and snarled, but
Rand didn’t appear the least bothered by it. Between the slurping
and guttural mumblings one word kept repeating. “Sidhe.”
    So not good.
    “This one’s