The bottle sat upon the ground between the G’home Gnomes, forgotten. An ugly, spider like creature danced upon the bottle’s rim where the stopper had been pulled and flicked bits of green fire at the raindrops. Each bit of fire changed another droplet into a gemstone.
It was the weirdest scene Ben Holiday had ever witnessed. Fillip and Sot looked as if they had gone nuts.
“All right! That’s enough!” he yelled sharply.
The G’home Gnomes froze, shrinking down against the earth like wilted flowers. The Darkling crouched catlike on the lip of the bottle, eyes glittering. Ben waited a moment to be certain that he had their attention, then started down the slope of the ridge, Questor and Willow in tow. When he reached the outer curtain of the willow’s broad canopy—not more than a dozen yards from the gnomes—he stopped.
“What do you think you’re doing, guys?” he asked quietly.
Fillip and Sot looked terrified. “Leave us alone!” they cried. “Let us be!” The words all jumbled together as they spoke them, and Ben couldn’t tell who was saying what.
“There is a small problem that needs solving first,” he said evenly. “You have something that belongs to me.”
“No, no,” whined Fillip.
“Nothing,” whined Sot.
“How about the bottle?” he asked.
The moment he said the word “bottle” the gnomes had their hands on it, snatching it back away from him. The Darkling stayed perched on the open lip, clinging to the glass as if it had suction cups on its fingers. Ben had a clear view of the creature now; it was an ugly little thing. The red eyes glittered hatefully, and Ben looked quickly away.
“Fillip. Sot.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You have to give the bottle back. It doesn’t belong to you. You took it without permission.”
“You said you wished you had never seen it!” insisted Fillip.
“You said you wished it would disappear!” added Sot.
“You put it away!”
“You didn’t want it!”
“Great High Lord!”
“Mighty High Lord!”
Ben held up his hands quickly to silence them. “You have to give it back, fellas. That’s all there is to it. Close it up and hand it over—right now.”
The gnomes pulled the bottle closer still. Their eyes narrowed, and something of the look he had seen in the Darkling’s eyes reflected suddenly in their own. Fillip’s muzzle was drawing back to show teeth. Sot was stroking the demon’s arched spine.
“The bottle belongs to us!” snapped Fillip.
“The bottle is ours!” grated Sot.
The terror was still evident in their eyes, but Ben had mistaken completely its source. He had thought them frightened of him; in truth, they were frightened, not of him, but of losing the bottle.
“Nuts!” he muttered and looked at Questor.
The wizard stepped forward. His scarecrow form straightened. “Fillip and Sot, you are hereby charged with theft of royal property and flight to avoid return of same!”
He cleared his throat officiously. “Return the property now—the bottle, that is—and all charges will be dropped. Otherwise, you will be arrested and placed in the castle dungeons.” He paused hopefully. “You don’t want that, do you?”
The G’home Gnomes cringed. Then suddenly they leaned down to the bottle as the Darkling whispered something up to them. When they looked back again, the defiance was evident.
“You lie to us!” declared Fillip. “You wish to hurt us!” declared Sot. “You want the bottle for yourselves!”
“You want its treasures for your own use!”
“You try to trick us!”
“You play hateful games!”
They were on their feet now, holding the bottle between them, backing slowly toward the base of the tree. Ben was appalled. He had never seen the gnomes like this; they were actually ready to fight!
“What’s happening here?” he whispered urgently.
“It is the demon, High Lord!” Questor whispered back. “It poisons everyone it touches!”
Ben was already regretting that he had even bothered trying to talk the gnomes out of the bottle. It would have been smarter just to send Bunion in to steal the damn thing and be done with it.
Willow appeared suddenly at his other side. “Fillip!” she called out. “Sot! Please, do not do this to the High Lord! Remember how he came to you when no one else would? Remember how he helped you?” Her voice softened. “He has always helped you when you needed it; you owe him much. Return the bottle to him. He needs the bottle to help find Abernathy and bring him safely back. Do not obstruct him like this. Listen to what is inside of you. Give him back the bottle.”