Kevin Hearne - Hammered

“How’d he do that?”

“Not well. He went mad trying to contain it and died.”

My apprentice frowned. “Wasn’t the elemental released at that point?”

“Aye, the power was released, but it no longer had a coherent identity as an elemental. It was wild magic, and it was released around the Nile Delta. Shortly thereafter the Egyptian civilization started building pyramids.”

“Are you saying …?”

“No, because I don’t appreciate fallacies of causality. Interesting coincidence, though, don’t you think?”

She nodded. “Did the elementals tell you all of this?”

“Yes. That was three thousand years before my time. They’ll tell you all sorts of secrets if you’re nice to them. And they respond more quickly once they get to know you. This iron elemental I’m calling has been fed lots of faeries over the years. He likes me quite a bit. Calls himself Ferris.”

Granuaile looked at me sharply. “Stop it, sensei.”

“Stop what?”

She huffed and tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear, then squinted her skepticism at me. “Its name is Ferris? As in the word ferrous ? You can’t expect me to believe an iron elemental is as fond of puns as you are.”

I smiled. “No, you’re right. He allowed me to give him a name, since we’ve worked so much together over the years.” I paused. “I think of him as male, even though elementals have no gender. That’s probably sexist of me.”

“Probably,” Granuaile agreed. “I’ll give you a sensitivity point for noticing, though.”

Oberon said.

“Thanks,” I said to them both, and then I returned my attention to the earth, sending my thoughts down through my tattoos.

//Druid needs Ferris / Book protection / Iron cell//

“He’s done this sort of thing for me before,” I explained. “He knows precisely what to do. Watch.”

Granuaile leaned over to see iron seeping up from the ground and solidifying underneath the boxes. It built up like magnetic iron filings along the sides, slowly hardening into a black wall, and then it closed over the top until all we saw was an iron box without a visible weld or seam.

“Wow,” Granuaile said. “You could get a job building bank vaults.”

“Those books are worth more than anything in a vault. Okay, they’re protected from divination now. What’s next? Have Sonora fill in the pit?”

She glanced at me, recognizing that I was testing her.

“No, I don’t think so,” she replied. “The iron will rust if you don’t protect it from the next rains. Groundwater will get it.”

“Excellent. What should I do?”

“Thank Ferris and call back Sonora to put nonporous rock around the iron, then fill in the pit.”

“You’re right, we should thank Ferris and Sonora both. Sonora will ask us to do something in return for this favor, and if it’s in your power, I think you should do it. You might as well start building goodwill now.”

“Ferris won’t ask for anything?”

“I’ve fed him so many faeries over the years that he feels like he owes me.” I thanked both elementals and asked Sonora to encase the iron in granite and fill in the pit. We were silent as Sonora worked. After my books were secure under the earth, I introduced Granuaile to both elementals.

//New Druid / Unbound / Wishes speech//

Almost immediately, a black iron marble formed on the surface of the soil.

I pointed at it and said, “That’s a little piece of Ferris right there. Pick it up and concentrate on thoughts of welcome and curiosity. Ask if there is anything you can do for him.”

Her mouth fell half open and she glanced at me uncertainly. She still had difficulty believing sometimes that this could happen in an age of science. Before she could pick it up, another marble emerged from the ground. This one was solid turquoise.

“Is that one a piece of Sonora?” she asked.

“Yep. This is how you’ll communicate with them if I don’t come back. Better practice now to get the hang of it. Do Ferris first. He’s used to talking.”

She gingerly picked up the iron marble between thumb and forefinger, holding it as if it were a repulsive insect.

“Close it in your fist, shut your eyes, and say hello in your mind,” I said.

She did as I instructed, and after a couple of seconds she jerked and gave a startled little “Oh!” Wonder chased surprise, which nipped at the heels of shock traveling across her face. Then a smile took over and made itself comfortable.

Oberon asked.

Don’t know , I told him. It’s not a conversation I can listen in on .

Sonora knows you. He calls you Druidfriend, which is the same as giving you a name. He’d just refer to you as a dog otherwise .

You’re not part of his ecosystem and you never feed him faeries. Ferris thinks about faeries the way you think about pork products .

No, there’s only one thing that tastes like bacon—

<���—and that’s bacon!>

Right. I’m merely drawing a comparison. Iron eats magic, and faeries are magical creatures born on a magical plane. So when I serve up some faeries to Ferris, it’s the same thing as giving you one of those Bacon Explosion things and chasing it with a nice bacon latte .

Because I can’t. Bacon lattes don’t exist .

Oberon, seriously, I don’t believe there’s any such thing. I was just making a point .

Come on, Oberon, you’re being silly .

The bacon latte?

Oberon, what the fuck? I was about to ask him if he’d heard that on television when Granuaile’s eyes snapped open.

“That was amazing,” she breathed. “It was like … dreaming, these images in my head, except I could control the dream and say what I wanted without using words.”

“That’s a cool way of putting it. What did he say?” I asked.

“He hopes that two Druids will mean twice as many faeries for him.”

I smiled. “That sounds about right. Time to say hello to Sonora. You’ll find him a bit deeper and richer than Ferris. If Ferris is a glass of chocolate milk, Sonora is mousse.”

“Wow. Okay,” Granuaile said. “But I’m going to think of Sonora as female.” She put the iron marble into the pocket of her jeans and picked up the turquoise marble. This time she closed her fist around it confidently and closed her eyes. A small shiver and sharp intake of breath indicated when she’d made contact. She smiled again as she had before.

Right, she’ll be busy talking for a bit , I said to Oberon. Now explain to me how a Double Bacon Five-Cheese Mocha can ever be nonfat .

Yeesh. Your logic should come with a warning label. Where’d you hear that prophecy you spouted?

Oberon’s ears pricked up and he swung his head to the east.

I followed his gaze and saw flashes of a familiar canine form coming toward us through the desert scrub.

Oberon said, his tail wagging. It was indeed. Or one version of him, anyway: This one claimed to represent the Navajo tribe. He trotted nimbly between the teddy bear cholla with his tongue hanging out to one side and yipped a cheerful greeting at us. Before we could answer, he shape-shifted to a Native American man clothed in blue jeans, boots, and a white sleeveless undershirt. His straight black hair fell down his back from underneath a cowboy hat, and he had a tiny smirk on his face.