by Brandon Mull
Page 26
Make no speeches about matters far beyond your comprehension, Muriel snapped. I have made covenants that will place me in a position of unfathomable power. After biding my time for long years, I feel my hour of triumph at hand. The evening star is rising.
Evening star? Kendra repeated.
Muriel grinned. My ambitions extend far beyond hijacking a single preserve. I am part of a movement with much broader objectives.
The Society of the Evening Star.
You could never imagine the designs already in motion. I have been locked away for years, yes, but not without means of communicating with the outside world.
The imps.
And other collaborators. Bahumat has been orchestrating this day since his capture. Time has been our ally.
Watching and waiting, we have quietly leveraged countless opportunities to gradually secure our release. No prison stands forever. At times our efforts have borne little fruit.
On gladder occasions, we have toppled many dominoes with a single nudge. When Ephira succeeded in coaxing you to open the window on Midsummer Eve, we were hopeful that events would unfold much as they have.
Ephira?
You looked into her eyes.
Kendra cringed. She did not appreciate a reminder of the translucent woman in the gauzy black garments.
Muriel nodded. She and others are about to inherit this sanctuary, a vital step toward reaching our ultimate ends.
After decades of persistence, nothing can forestall me.
Then why not just let my family go? Kendra pleaded.
They would try to interfere. Not that they could at this point-they had their chance and failed-but I will take no risks. Come, face the end with your loved ones, instead of alone in the night.
Kendra shook her head.
Muriel extended her uninjured arm. The fingers, red with her own blood, contorted into an unnatural shape.
She spoke in a garbled language that made Kendra think of angry men whispering. Kendra ran out of the church, down the steps, and over to the wagon. She paused to look back.
Muriel did not appear in the doorway. Whatever spell the witch had tried to cast apparently had no effect.
Kendra raced down the road. The sunset was still fairly bright. They had been inside the church for only a few minutes. Tears began to blind her, but she kept running, unsure whether she was being pursued.
Her whole family was lost! Everything had happened so fast! One moment Grandma was confidently offering assurance; the next, Hugo was destroyed and Seth and Grandma were captured. Kendra should have been captured as well, except she had been so overcautious since arriving at Fablehaven that she was still apparently shielded by the full power of the treaty. The imps had not been able to lay a finger on her, and Muriel had been too injured to give proper chase.
Kendra looked back along the empty road. The witch would have cured the injury by now, but would probably not come after her until freeing Bahumat, since Kendra had such a big head start.
Then again, Muriel could possibly use magic to catch up with her. But Kendra suspected that the urgency of unleashing the demon would prevent Muriel from giving chase for now.
Should she turn around and head back? Try to rescue her family? How? Throw rocks? Kendra could envision nothing but certain capture if she were to return.
But she had to do something! When the demon was released, it would destroy the treaty, and Seth would die, along with Grandpa, Grandma, and Lena!
The only possibility she could think of was returning to the house and trying to find a weapon in the attic. Could she remember the combination to the vault door? She had watched Grandma open it an hour ago, heard her speak the numbers aloud. She could not recall them, but felt she might once she saw it.
Kendra knew she was without hope. The house was miles away. How many? Eight? Ten? Twelve? She would be lucky to make it there, let alone back, before Bahumat was free.
There were many knots, and it looked like Muriel could undo only one at a time. Each knot seemed to take at least a few minutes. But still, at that rate, it would be a matter of hours, not days, before the demon was free.
At least finding a weapon at the house was a goal. No matter how desperate the odds, it gave her a direction to head and a reason for going there. Who knew what the weapon would be, or how she would use it, or whether she could even get into the attic? But at least it was a plan. At least she could tell herself there was a brave reason for running away.
A Desperate Gamble Dreading nightfall did nothing to prevent it. The sunset diminished and disappeared, until Kendra had only the light reflected from half a moon to guide her. The night grew cooler, but not cold. The forest was swathed in gloomy shadow. Occasionally she heard unsettling sounds, but she never caught sight of what made them. Although she glanced back frequently, the road behind remained as empty as the road ahead.
Kendra alternated between jogging and walking.
Without landmarks, it was difficult to discern how much ground she was covering. The dirt road seemed to stretch on forever.
She worried about Grandma Sorenson. Since she had shot Muriel and used Hugo to cripple the imps, there would probably be no protection for Grandma from similar torture.
Kendra began to wish she had accepted Muriel's invitation to stay at the church with her family. The guilt of being the only escapee was almost too much to bear.
It was hard to calculate the passage of time. The night wore on, as endless as the road. The moon gradually migrated across the sky. Or was it the road changing direction?
Kendra felt certain she had been on the road for hours when she reached an open area. The moonlight showed a scant trail branching away from the road. It ran toward a tall, shadowy hedge.
The pond with the gazebos! Finally, a landmark. She could not be more than half an hour from the house, and there was still no hint of dawn.
How long before Bahumat would be set free? Maybe the demon was already loose. Would she know when it happened, or would she not find out until she was mobbed by monsters?
Kendra rubbed her eyes. She felt weary. Her legs did not want to walk any farther. She noticed that she was very hungry. She stopped and stretched for a minute. Then she started jogging. She could run the rest of the way, right? It wasn't too far.
As she passed the meager trail branching from the road, Kendra skidded to a halt. A new thought had occurred to her, inspired by the irregular hedge looming off to the side of the road.
The Fairy Queen had a shrine on the island in the middle of the pond. Wasn't she supposed to be the most powerful person in all the fairy world? Maybe Kendra could try asking her for help.
Kendra folded her arms. She knew so little about the Fairy Queen. Apart from hearing that the queen was powerful, she had heard only that to set foot on her island meant certain death. Some guy had tried it and turned into dandelion seeds.
But why was he trying it? Kendra did not think she had been given a specific reason, just that he had a desperate need. But the fact that he had tried meant he thought he might succeed. Maybe he just didn't have a good enough reason.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kendra considered her need. Her grandparents and brother were about to be killed. And Fablehaven was about to be destroyed. That would be bad for the fairies too, wouldn't it? Or would the fairies not care? Maybe they would just go elsewhere.
Indecisive, Kendra stared at the faint trail. What weapon did she expect to find at the house? Probably nothing.
So she would most likely end up crashing through the gate or climbing it to get away before Bahumat and Muriel caught up and finished her off. And her family would perish.
But this Fairy Queen idea might work. If the queen was so powerful, she would be able to stop Muriel and maybe even Bahumat. Kendra needed an ally. Despite her noble intentions, she could not see any way she could succeed on her own.
Kendra had felt a new sensation inside ever since the idea had popped into her head. The feeling was so unexpected that it took a moment to recognize it as hope. There were no combination locks in the way. She just had to throw herself at the mercy of an all-powerful being and plead for her family.
What was the worst that could happen? Death, but on her terms. No bloodthirsty imps. No witches. No demons.
Just a big poof of dandelion fluff.
What was the best possibility? The Fairy Queen could turn Muriel into dandelion seeds and rescue Kendra's family.
Kendra started down the trail. She felt butterflies in her stomach. It was an encouraging kind of nervousness, much preferable to the dread of certain failure. She started running.
No crawling under the hedge this time. The path led to an archway. Kendra ran under the archway and onto the manicured lawn beyond.
By moonlight the whitewashed pavilions and boardwalk were even more picturesque than during the day.
Kendra really could envision a Fairy Queen living on the island at the center of the tranquil pond. Of course, the queen didn't actually live there. It was just a shrine. Kendra would have to go petition her and hope the queen would respond.
Getting to the island would be the first challenge. The pond was full of naiads who liked to drown people, which meant she needed a sturdy boat.
Kendra hurried across the lawn toward the nearest gazebo. She tried to ignore the shifting shadows she saw ahead-various creatures ducking out of sight. Anticipating what she was about to attempt, Kendra felt like her intestines were caught in an eggbeater. She forced away all fear. Would Grandpa turn and flee? Would Grandma?
Would Seth? Or would they try their best to save her?
She charged up the steps of the nearest pavilion and started running along the boardwalk. Her shoes pounded noisily against the boards, defying the silence. She saw her destination-the boathouse, three gazebos away.
The surface of the lake was a black mirror reflecting the moonlight. A few twinkling fairies hovered just above the water. Otherwise there was no sign of life.
Kendra reached the pavilion attached to a small pier.
She dashed down the steps and out onto the quay. She reached the boathouse and tried the door. Just like before, it was locked. The door was not big, but it looked sturdy.
Kendra kicked it hard. The impact jolted up the length of her leg, making her wince. She rammed the door with her shoulder, again hurting herself instead of the door.
Kendra stepped back. The boathouse was basically a large shed floating on the water. It had no windows. She hoped it still had boats inside. If it did, they would be sitting in the water, protected by walls and a roof but no floor. If she jumped into the lake, she could surface inside the boathouse and climb into a boat.
She studied the water. The black, reflective surface was impenetrable. There could be a hundred naiads waiting in ambush, or none-it was impossible to tell.
The whole plan would be pointless if she drowned before reaching the island. Based on what she had heard from Lena, there would be naiads eagerly waiting for her to get near the water. Jumping in would be suicide.
She sat down and started bucking the door with both feet, the same method Seth had used to break into the barn. She made a lot of noise, but did not seem to be harming the door at all. Kicking harder only made her legs hurt more.
She needed a tool. Or a key. Or some dynamite.
Kendra ran back up to the pavilion, searching for something she could use to pry the door open. She saw nothing.
If only there were a sledgehammer lying around.
She tried to calm herself. She had to think! Maybe if she just kept pounding, the door would eventually give.
Sort of like erosion. But it hadn't budged yet, and she didn't have all night. There had to be a smarter solution.
What did she have to work with? Nothing! Nothing but a few shadowy creatures who ducked out of sight at her approach.
Okay, listen up! she shouted. I know you can hear me. I have to get inside the boathouse. A witch is setting Bahumat free, and all of Fablehaven is going to be destroyed. I'm not asking for anybody to stick their necks out. I just need somebody to beat down the boathouse door.
My grandfather is the caretaker here, and I give you full permission. I am going to turn my back and close my eyes.
When I hear the door break, I'll wait ten seconds before turning back around.
Kendra turned around and closed her eyes. She heard nothing. Anytime, just smash down the door. I promise I won't look.
She heard a gentle splash and a tinkling sound.
Okay! Sounds like we have a taker! Just break down the door.
She heard nothing. She suddenly realized that something could have emerged from the water and be sneaking up behind her. Unable to resist, she turned and peeked.
No dripping creatures were in sight. All was quiet.
There were ripples on the previously glassy pond. And lying on the dock near the boathouse was a key.
Kendra rushed down the stairs and picked up the key.
It was wet, corroded, and a little slimy. Longer than a regular key, it looked old-fashioned.
Wiping it against her shirt, she carried the key to the boathouse and inserted it in the keyhole. It fit perfectly.
She turned it, and the door swung inward.
Kendra shivered. The implications were disturbing.
Apparently a naiad had tossed her the key. They wanted her out on the water.
With only the moonlight seeping through the door to provide illumination, the boathouse was very dim.
Squinting, Kendra could see three boats tied to the narrow pier: two large rowboats, one slightly broader than the other, and a smaller paddleboat. The paddleboat was the kind with bicycle pedals. Kendra had once ridden in one at a park with a lake.
On one wall hung several oars of varying length. Near the door were a crank and a lever. Kendra tried to turn the crank, but it would not move. She pulled the lever.
Nothing happened. She tried the crank again, and this time it turned. A sliding door on the opposite side of the boathouse from the dock began to open, letting in more light. Kendra kept cranking, relieved that she would be able to paddle a boat directly out of the boathouse onto the pond.
Standing in the gloom of the boathouse, staring out the open door at the pond, Kendra began to doubt. She felt nauseated with fear. Was she really prepared to go to her death? To have naiads drown her, or to fall victim to a spell protecting a forbidden island?
