by Alane Adams
“I don’t care, I’m going.” She tugged her arm free. “I have to find Rubicus. He has the spellbook. It’s our only way back, unless you want to be stuck here forever.”
“The spellbook is here?” Calla frowned.
Abigail nodded, gritting her jaw with anger. How she hated that spellbook. It was the cause of every bad thing that had happened to her.
“Fine, but let’s be smart,” Robert said. “There has to be another way in. Every fortress has a service entrance, somewhere away from the front. Let’s find it and see if we can slip inside.”
They worked their way around the fringes of the battle to the back of the fortress. It was shadowed by stands of tall trees.
The service entrance was there, all right, but iron bars sealed it off.
“Look, we can climb that tree.” Robert pointed to a well-limbed pine. “It’s close enough to the wall for us to reach the top.”
Abigail wanted to run as far away from this place as possible, but the voice wouldn’t let her linger.
No time to wait. Now, little witch, now.
They swiftly climbed until they were level with the rampart. After scampering along a branch, Robert jumped first, then helped the others safely across. The top of the wall was deserted, as if every able-bodied sentry was out fighting. They climbed down rickety stairs into an open square, where the shops were all shuttered closed. Outside the fortress walls, they could hear the battle raging on.
A tall building with a broad set of double doors faced the square, and Abigail headed for it. That was where the voice sang out to her. The doors opened into a marbled hall, where a set of stairs climbed the wall beneath a massive chandelier.
“He’s up there,” she said. Above them, the distant roar of a male voice was followed by a crash, like furniture being tossed, and then silence.
They quickly climbed to the top floor and came to a stop outside a heavy wooden door. A light glowed underneath.
Robert stood at her side, looking scared and determined at the same time. “Is this it?”
“Yes.” Abigail’s knees trembled, but she wouldn’t let her fear show. “I’m going in. The rest of you stay outside. This isn’t a game,” she said as Robert started to argue. “You will die if you come in, do you hear me? He will kill you. I have to protect you.”
“What about you?” Robert squared his jaw. “Who will protect you?”
A faint smile trembled on her lips as she studied the door. “I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me. I think he’s waiting for me.”
“Wait, Abigail.” Hugo grabbed her arm. “Let’s think about this. There’s a reason Odin cut his head off. He had to stop the curse. There was no other way.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just that if we interfere—”
“We could mess everything up,” Robert finished. “Hugo’s right, we should stay away.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Abigail said. “That war is going to be over soon, and when it is, my chance to talk to him will be gone. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he doesn’t know why I’m here, but we need that spellbook, so relax.” She pressed a hand to Hugo’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Just wait here. Please.”
“I’m a witch—I’ll come with you,” Calla said, but Abigail shook her head firmly.
“No, only me. That’s how it must be.”
She raised her hand and knocked on the door.
A deep voice barked, “Enter.”
Abigail opened the door and quickly slipped inside, closing it tight behind her.
The air was stuffy from the roaring fire that blazed in the stone fireplace. A tall broad-shouldered man with a thick beard trimmed to a sharp point was pulling books off a bookcase, looking at them briefly, then tossing them to the floor. He wore a heavily brocaded coat embroidered with silver thread and emerald stones.
“What do you want?” He hardly spared her a glance before continuing on with his pillaging of the books.
Abigail’s heart was doing somersaults. She felt sick and excited at the same time. “I don’t know. I think … that is … I used a spell in the spellbook, and … well, here I am.”
His hand froze on the spine of a book, then he turned slowly. His gaze pinned her in place with twin stabs of emerald fire. In two strides he was at her side, grasping her shoulders and lifting her to eye level. “Who are you?”
“A-Abi-Abigail,” she said.
“Do I know you?”
“No, not yet. It’s confusing. I’m not from this time.”
His eyes widened with amazement. “I did not believe … I’d given up.” He set her down gently and patted her head. “Come, little witch, we have much to do. There is precious little time. My daughter will come soon, and she must never know you were here. No one can ever know. Do you understand me?”
Abigail nodded. If this crazed he-witch knew her friends stood outside, he would cut them down where they stood. Please stay out of sight, she pleaded silently.
“Now, where did I toss that insufferable book?” He rummaged among the scattered volumes, looking this way and that, until he seized on what he wanted. “There you are, you putrid pile of pages. I should have burned you centuries ago.” But his tone was jovial as he held up a familiar leather tome.
“Hello, dark witch, I thought you’d never come.”
The voice was loud and clear, as if whoever was speaking stood in front of her. Rubicus looked up in surprise. “I see you’ve met Vertulious.”
“You can hear that?” she asked, warily staying two paces away.
“Of course. Verty taught me everything I know about magic, from potions to spell casting to alchemy. He was even handy fixing a bad tooth as I recall. When he died, he magicked all of his knowledge into this book. It’s the most precious thing I own.”
He snapped his fingers, and mist trickled out of the pages, twisting and expanding until a ghostly figure appeared in long robes. Vertulious had wild gray hair that went past his shoulders and glimmering eyes set into a deeply wrinkled face.
“Isn’t this wonderful, my two favorite people in the same room.” A ghostly Vertulious clasped his hands to his cheeks. “Pleased to meet you in person, Abigail.”
Abigail took a step back. “I want to leave.”
Rubicus made a curt gesture with his hand, and her feet locked in place. “Don’t be difficult, child, or I will render you mute.”
“Now, now, leave the child alone,” Vertulious said. “She is your only hope, and time is not in your favor.”
“What … what do you mean?” Abigail asked.
“I’m not going to win today. I know that.” Rubicus gripped the spellbook with white fingers. “Odin will do what he must to end this red sun curse. I might have … overplayed my hand,” he added with a fierce scowl. “And not even I wish to destroy this place. Where would my children and their children call home? No, my life must end today, but I will have the last say. One day, I will rise again to take my revenge, and you will help me do it.”
He pored over the book, muttering to himself as he rifled through the pages. “Come, Vertulious, which spell shall we use?”
“I’m thinking.” The ghostly alchemist winked at Abigail. “An old man takes time to remember all his spells and enchantments.” He wafted one hand in the air, and the pages in the spellbook turned rapidly, flipping all the way to the end and back the other way. “Here’s one that will work,” he said as the pages stopped riffling.
Rubicus looked at it, then raised an eyebrow. “A love spell? Love spells never work.”
Vertulious tapped his nose. “Think of it as a loyalty charm.”
“Fine. I trust you know your magic.” Grasping Abigail by the collar, he lifted her easily off her feet, using his other hand to draw on his magic. “Finial amorata, pisca-dora,” he recited, then flicked his wrist out.
A blast of cold chilled the marrow in her bones as tiny needles of pain peppered her skin. She tried to bite it back, but a cry of pain escaped her lips, and in the next moment, the d
oor burst open, and her three friends rushed in.
Calla flung a ball of witchfire at Rubicus, shouting, “Let her go!”
Rubicus swatted it away as though it were a gnat, but before he could retaliate, Robert drew his sword.
“I am Lord Robert Barconian, Son of Odin, and I command you to unhand her.” He lunged forward, aiming for the heart of the he-witch. Rubicus feinted left, and instead of impaling him, Robert managed only to nick his arm.
Hissing with pain, Rubicus dropped Abigail like a sack of potatoes and turned himself toward the intruders.
“Prepare to die, Son of Odin,” he said, rage lighting his voice. “A thousand deaths and then a thousand more will give me the pleasure I seek.” He raised his arm, calling a giant ball of purple witchfire, but Abigail flung herself between them.
“No, you mustn’t hurt him. He … he’s my friend.”
“Friend? You befriend our greatest enemy?” His eyes were burning emeralds. “This Son of Odin would destroy our kind. Perhaps I was wrong in choosing you.” He flung his hand out, and an invisible iron band cut off her airway. She choked, reaching for her throat, as her friends did the same.
“Kill me and your plan fails,” she gasped out. The band around her neck loosened, and she dragged a breath in, but her friends still struggled. “Let my friends go, or I will never do what you want. You will die here today and be a forgotten bag of bones.”
“See?” Vertulious said to Rubicus. “The loyalty spell is powerful. Make her swear it on their lives.”
“Swear you’ll do what I ask when the time comes in exchange for your friends’ lives,” Rubicus said. “Swear it on the spellbook.”
He held it out to her. She didn’t hesitate, laying her palm on the scaly skin of its cover. “I swear I will do as you ask. Now let them go.”
He flung his hand to the side, and the three collapsed in a heap, choking and gasping.
A loud knock sounded on the door. “Father, are you in there? It’s me. Catriona.”
“Time for me to go.” Vertulious snapped his fingers with both hands and dissolved into wisps of fog, which trickled back into the pages of the spellbook.
Rubicus put a finger to his lips, cautioning them to be quiet.
“One moment, Daughter,” he called. “In here,” he whispered to the four of them, ushering them through a small door. It appeared to lead to a servant’s room. A spare uniform hung from a hook, and the narrow cot was neatly made up.
Rubicus knelt and drew a circle on the floor with a glowing finger, muttering an incantation softly. Knee-high flames leaped up around the edges.
“Step into the circle,” he said.
They looked at each other warily, but the sound of the outer door opening made them all freeze.
“Father, where are you?” a voice called. “You must come help. Odin advances.”
“I’m coming,” he shouted. “Wait there.”
“Go now,” he said as the flames danced. “Or perish when my daughter opens that door.”
“Come on.” Hugo stepped over the flames and into the circle. He held his hand out, and Calla took it, hopping inside. Abigail stepped in next and tugged Robert in after her. He held his sword in front of him as if he wanted to take Rubicus’s head off himself.
“So brave.” The he-witch bent over the flames to face him eye to eye. “You took my blood, and now I take yours.” With a quick motion, he disarmed Robert and used the blade to cut a matching slice on Robert’s arm. Then, drawing the blade back, he wiped the blood on his own cut. “Now you will forever be a part of me, as I am a part of you.”
Tossing the sword into the circle, he snapped his fingers, and the world dropped out beneath them.
Abigail pushed herself upright. Her body ached, as if her joints had been pulled apart and put back together again. She heard a groan next to her, and then Robert’s head popped up.
“Where are we?” he asked
“We’re back at the Tarkana Fortress.” She could make out the familiar jookberry tree and the garden gate.
“But when are we?” Calla asked. Hugo sat up next to her, blinking behind his glasses.
“I think it’s just a few hours later,” Abigail said, eyeing the stars. She could always tell what time it was when she saw her father’s position in the sky. “I’d say just past midnight. If we’re lucky, Calla and I can sneak into our rooms, and no one will know we were gone.”
“What happened in there?” Hugo asked.
Abigail rubbed her cheeks with her knuckles. “Rubicus made me promise to help him. He said he would rise again. He cast some kind of loyalty spell on me.”
“Is that why you helped us?” Robert asked. “Because you were enchanted?”
“No, of course not. I did it because you’re my friends.” But a seed of doubt niggled at her. Had she stood up for them because she was a good person or because that spell-book had cast a spell over her?
Robert sighed. “Doesn’t matter. We didn’t get any closer to finding Odin’s Stone. I’m as good as dead.”
“Maybe it’s time you told your dad what’s going on,” Hugo said. “This is serious. Without the Stone—”
“I know, the witches will destroy us.” He looked swiftly at Calla and Abigail. “Sorry, I mean the other witches not standing here.”
“You’re making progress,” Calla said. “I almost like you now. If we tell Lord Barconian about the stolen Stone, he’s sure to blame us all, which means war will break out, and Melistra will get her way. We have to keep Lord Barconian here until we can find a way to steal it back. Let’s meet at Baba Nana’s tomorrow after school. She might have some ideas.”
“She’s got a point.” Hugo stifled a yawn. “Baba Nana may have an idea where it’s hidden.”
“Another witch?” Robert said, but he gave in as he, too, yawned. “I guess it can’t hurt. I’ll find Hugo after his school gets out … if my father doesn’t lock me in my cabin for disappearing at dinner.”
Chapter 16
Endera hesitated outside her mother’s chambers. With the spellbook tucked under her arm, she smoothed the pleats of her uniform and made sure her hair was neatly in place. She raised her hand to rap her knuckles on the door when it was suddenly wrenched open.
Melistra grabbed Endera by the arm, searching the hallway with anxious eyes, and yanked her inside.
“Did anyone see you come this way?” she hissed, her back pressed against the door.
“No, Mother. Everyone is sleeping.”
“Good. Did you bring me what I asked?”
Endera pulled a pair of small jars out of her pocket and handed them to her mother. One was labeled OULLIUM, the other RADION. Melistra held them up, giving them a little shake.
“Does anyone suspect you stole them?”
Endera shook her head. “I waited until Madame Malaria was at lunch.”
“Excellent work.” Melistra pronounced and tucked the jars away in the folds of her gown.
Endera glowed under her mother’s rare praise. “Now that we have Odin’s Stone—”
“Quiet!” She clamped her hand across Endera’s mouth. “Never speak it aloud. That Hestera has her ravens everywhere.”
Endera nodded, and Melistra withdrew her hand.
“Sorry, Mother. But when are we going to let the High Witch Council know? Those useless Orkadians will be helpless when we go to war with them. You’ve guaranteed our victory.”
Melistra paced in front of the fire. The flames cast grim shadows on her face. “Hestera thinks only of peace. What kind of witch settles for peace when we can rule everything?”
“Not a true witch,” Endera dutifully answered. “What have you done with the … er … item?”
“I’ve hidden it somewhere safe,” her mother said craftily.
“Then let’s destroy it and be done with it.”
“Soon. It’s time I showed this coven what I’m capable of. They expect a Curse Breaker and I intend to give them one.”
“M
e?” Endera’s heart soared at the idea, but her mother crushed it with a snort of derision.
“No, not you, fool. I’ve worked my whole life toward this. As long as that Orkadian boy doesn’t tattle to his father before my plan is in place … that sneevil was supposed to finish him off.”
“Don’t worry, I got rid of him,” Endera boasted.
Melistra grew still, then swiveled slowly to face her. “What do you mean, you got rid of him? If that Barconian brat disappears, there will be all sorts of inquiries. Hestera will suspect me. Fool girl.” She grabbed Endera by the collar of her dress, twisting it painfully. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“No, I swear, no one will know it was me. He snuck into my room with Abigail, her Balfin friend, and that glitch-witch. I think they were looking for the Stone. I cast a spell using the spellbook. I enchanted the ivy and it devoured them.” At least that’s what she hoped had happened. There had been no sign of them when she’d peeked out her window a few minutes later. She took a step closer to Melistra. “I thought you would be pleased.”
Melistra’s eyes glittered angrily at her. “I should have never given you that spellbook. It’s caused me nothing but trouble. Show me the spell you used.”
Endera thumbed the pages until she found the spell and handed it over. Melistra traced her finger along the words, but the ink began to run, dripping onto the ground, and with a howl of rage, she threw it at the wall. Melistra wiped the ink stains on the skirt of her dress and flounced into a chair. “Useless thing. It hasn’t liked me since that day I went after Lissandra.”
Endera frowned. “You went after Abigail’s mother? But I thought you hardly knew her?”
“Never mind that,” her mother snapped. “We’ll just have to hurry things along. And you will see to our victory. It’s time you proved your worth.”
Melistra explained what she needed. Endera listened, swallowing back her fear, and said the words her mother wanted to hear.
“I won’t fail you.”
Chapter 17
Abigail awoke with a headache, as if a splinter were lodged behind one eye. Birds were singing outside her open window, which she must have left ajar.
