Read Online The Golden Shield of IBF by Jerry Ahern, Sharon Ahern - Free Book Online
Authors: Jerry Ahern, Sharon Ahern
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seen.
“We are not dead, Al’An.”
“Where are we, Swan?”
“Creath.”
“Where is Creath?”
Swan did not answer him, merely stood there, wrapped within her cape, its hood so obscuring her face that he could not read her expression.
The snow felt like snow, the air smelled like air. Garrison rationalized a scenario. Somehow, when the explosion came, he was knocked out, near death (unless he was really dead). The bright light had been the same light people talked about in near-death experiences. If he wasn’t dead, then they had been kidnapped while unconscious, drugged perhaps, abandoned here for some obscure reason. One of his .45s was still in its shoulder holster, the other in the waistband of his pants, where he’d placed it when he tackled William Brownwood. From their heft, the pistols were still loaded. He could check them in greater detail in a little while. His third pistol and his knives were where they belonged.
Garrison reached for his cell phone. “Where’s my cell phone?”
“Cell phone?”
“The thing I was talking into,” Garrison rephrased.
“Your magical advisor? You flung your magical advisor to the floor as you joined battle with your foeman there in the great hall through which all who entered passed.”
“No matter. In the mountains like this, we’re probably nowhere near a cell, anyway. So, tell me what’s up.”
Swan’s right arm emerged from beneath her cape and she gestured toward the cloudy sky. “That is up. Are you well, Al’An? Was your head injured?”
“No, I knew which way up was, Swan. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then, you were testing me?”
“No, that’s not it. What I meant to say was that I wanted you to tell me where we are and what’s happened, if you know.”
“Of course I know,” Swan answered defensively, moving closer beside him. He could see her face quite clearly now beneath the folds of her hood. There was nothing but honesty there, honesty and loveliness. “You were about to be killed by the grenade bomb.” Garrison let her English usage slide. “I summoned all of the magical energy that I could, while reciting backwards the incantation which brought me to your world from mine originally. At the same time that the grenade bomb was about to release its energy, and perhaps kill you, I brought us here. And there is probably no reason to be afraid for Alicia and Gardner and Brenda the half-cat, half-female. Before my mother’s minions attacked and the Mist of Oblivion was summoned to devour my castle and all life within it, I chanced upon a spell useful in combating the energy force of a volcano. I thought that it was a clever spell and committed it to memory. I cast that spell over the grenade bomb. In the moment that my magic took us from the great hall through which all who entered passed, the grenade bomb exploded. I am certain that the spell worked. But, I could not be sure beforehand, which is why I brought us here at that moment.”
Garrison frisked his pockets, found his cigarettes and his lighter. This was nuts. He placed a cigarette between his lips. His hands shook with the cold and the lighter didn’t work the first time. As he made to roll the striking wheel again, his cigarette lit itself and he heard Swan laugh. “That is the easiest kind of magic. The energy is all around us; I merely direct it.”
Slowly, Garrison said, “This is Creath.”
“Of course it is!”
“And this magic of yours can bring us back to Atlanta?”
“Not now,” Swan responded, shaking her head. “You see, Al’An, magic is measured by quality and quantity. It is something which can be temporarily exhausted and then must renew itself.”
“You just lit my cigarette with magic,” Garrison insisted, amazed that he said such a thing.
Swan smiled indulgently. “If you run for only a short distance, do you have trouble breathing afterward?”
“No. Even though I’m smoking, I don’t do it very often and I take health and
“We are not dead, Al’An.”
“Where are we, Swan?”
“Creath.”
“Where is Creath?”
Swan did not answer him, merely stood there, wrapped within her cape, its hood so obscuring her face that he could not read her expression.
The snow felt like snow, the air smelled like air. Garrison rationalized a scenario. Somehow, when the explosion came, he was knocked out, near death (unless he was really dead). The bright light had been the same light people talked about in near-death experiences. If he wasn’t dead, then they had been kidnapped while unconscious, drugged perhaps, abandoned here for some obscure reason. One of his .45s was still in its shoulder holster, the other in the waistband of his pants, where he’d placed it when he tackled William Brownwood. From their heft, the pistols were still loaded. He could check them in greater detail in a little while. His third pistol and his knives were where they belonged.
Garrison reached for his cell phone. “Where’s my cell phone?”
“Cell phone?”
“The thing I was talking into,” Garrison rephrased.
“Your magical advisor? You flung your magical advisor to the floor as you joined battle with your foeman there in the great hall through which all who entered passed.”
“No matter. In the mountains like this, we’re probably nowhere near a cell, anyway. So, tell me what’s up.”
Swan’s right arm emerged from beneath her cape and she gestured toward the cloudy sky. “That is up. Are you well, Al’An? Was your head injured?”
“No, I knew which way up was, Swan. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then, you were testing me?”
“No, that’s not it. What I meant to say was that I wanted you to tell me where we are and what’s happened, if you know.”
“Of course I know,” Swan answered defensively, moving closer beside him. He could see her face quite clearly now beneath the folds of her hood. There was nothing but honesty there, honesty and loveliness. “You were about to be killed by the grenade bomb.” Garrison let her English usage slide. “I summoned all of the magical energy that I could, while reciting backwards the incantation which brought me to your world from mine originally. At the same time that the grenade bomb was about to release its energy, and perhaps kill you, I brought us here. And there is probably no reason to be afraid for Alicia and Gardner and Brenda the half-cat, half-female. Before my mother’s minions attacked and the Mist of Oblivion was summoned to devour my castle and all life within it, I chanced upon a spell useful in combating the energy force of a volcano. I thought that it was a clever spell and committed it to memory. I cast that spell over the grenade bomb. In the moment that my magic took us from the great hall through which all who entered passed, the grenade bomb exploded. I am certain that the spell worked. But, I could not be sure beforehand, which is why I brought us here at that moment.”
Garrison frisked his pockets, found his cigarettes and his lighter. This was nuts. He placed a cigarette between his lips. His hands shook with the cold and the lighter didn’t work the first time. As he made to roll the striking wheel again, his cigarette lit itself and he heard Swan laugh. “That is the easiest kind of magic. The energy is all around us; I merely direct it.”
Slowly, Garrison said, “This is Creath.”
“Of course it is!”
“And this magic of yours can bring us back to Atlanta?”
“Not now,” Swan responded, shaking her head. “You see, Al’An, magic is measured by quality and quantity. It is something which can be temporarily exhausted and then must renew itself.”
“You just lit my cigarette with magic,” Garrison insisted, amazed that he said such a thing.
Swan smiled indulgently. “If you run for only a short distance, do you have trouble breathing afterward?”
“No. Even though I’m smoking, I don’t do it very often and I take health and
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