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Lady Frieda eyed Kormac then Fionna. “Why have you come to my ranch? Given your surprise at our familial connection,it’s obvious you didn’t come here to reunite me with my granddaughter.”
“We are seeking specific items, old items,” he stated. “From the time of Airiok. We were told you might have some.”
Lady Frieda’s brow lifted. “That is an odd request, also intriguing. But where are my manners? Please come inside.”
They entered a place that could have been a treasury, or a museum given the number of items cluttering every single space. From weapons hung on the wall to statues, some of them not made locally as Kormac had never seen stone of such a pale green, the snake carving realistic and unlike anything found in Srayth.
Fionna fingered the serpent and murmured, “What a lovely jade carving. Expensive, too, given you can only find it in the southern islands.”
“My husband brought it back after one of his trips. He used to travel every few years to find new markets for our horses.”
Kormac glanced around and each time saw something new. “Lomar wasn’t exaggerating. You do have a lot of old things.”
“My father was a collector, as was his father before him. We enjoy keeping pieces of the past. Never know when it might be needed in the future, he used to say. Guess he was right. Is there something specific you are looking for? I have many antiques from Airiok’s time.”
Kormac hesitated, but Fionna dove right in. “I brought drawings that show some of the items we seek.” She’d come prepared and slipped the pages out of her skirt pocket.
The moment the Lady Frieda saw some of the illustrations she murmured, “You seek items bearing the symbols.”
“You’ve seen them?” Kormac asked sharply.
“Oh yes, I have several of these in my possession. They’ve always intrigued me, and I’ve made a point of seeking them out over the years. People were most eager to rid themselves ofthem. Apparently, some found the pieces discomfiting whereas I always quite enjoyed handling them.”
“Because of the magic,” Fionna stated. “Some are more sensitive than others to its presence.”
“Where are they?” Kormac asked.
“Given my interest in them, they’re in a room by themselves.”
Lady Frieda led them through the maze of chambers, each replete with its own style and collection of artifacts. He knew they’d arrived by the way his arms suddenly tingled.
Standing outside a closed door, Fionna’s head tilted. “I can feel them from here.”
Lady Frieda opened the door and Kormac sucked in a breath. When she’d claimed to have collected some, he expected a handful, maybe two. The room had shelves on two walls, most displaying pieces. The wall without any furniture held a long sword in brackets and under it a dagger and even an axe.
He immediately went to the blade and ran his fingers along the hilt, before testing the sharp edge.
“This is incredible,” Fionna stated. “More than we’d hoped to find.”
“What are they?” Lady Frieda questioned. “Because it’s obvious they’re more than just artifacts.”
Fionna perused the medallions and rings. “They are talismans of protection, imbued with magic to shield against the threat in Risead Pass. We’ll need them if we’re to hunt it down without it cursing those who try.”
Kormac took his attention from the magnificent sword because a splash of color caught his eye, a drawing framed and pinned to the wall. He frowned.
“What is that?” he asked of the creature depicted. An ugly thing with a man’s shape, but its skin a sickly green, its eyes black orbs, hair white and stringy. It wore a robe and in its upheld hand, a ball of light rested.
“The Possessor,” Lady Frieda said.
“The what?” Kormac asked.
“An old family legend. My great-grandfather used to tell us about it. This creature, once human but corrupted by evil, was a stealer of bodies. The story claimed it would come out of the mountains at night and supposedly take over people and force them to commit atrocities. Its image is in here because it had a few of the same symbols as the artifacts, only it doesn’t give off the same vibe.”
“Because it’s not meant to protect but warn.” Fionna stood in front of it and read the writing slowly. “’Death gives it strength. Death is its pleasure. It steals the will of man and beast but can be reborn in the body of…’” Fionna frowned. “I’m not sure of that symbol.”
Kormac frowned. “Sounds more like a riddle than a warning.”
“It was written quite some time ago, and that is common for language for that era,” Fionna stated. She glanced at her grandmother. “Might I copy the words?”
