PathFinder

by Angie Sage

  The bars were up, the cage open at the front. Torches on either side flared alight, illuminating a huddle of frightened people looking down at the water, knowing that whatever was about to happen was not going to be good. A terrified silence descended.

  Oraton-Marr leaned out over the balcony and addressed the PathFinders. “Before you is the last burrow made by the Magykal Great Orm. It was frozen by the Enchantment of some misguided people—” There was a scuffle behind him. Drone grabbed Driffa midlunge at Oraton-Marr and forced her into an arm lock.

  “Please let her go,” Lucy begged the guard. “My mistress is distressed. I will make sure she does not do it again.”

  Drone, who did not like what was going on any more than Lucy, nodded and released Driffa.

  Oraton-Marr continued his address. “At the bottom of the Orm Tube lies the lapis Egg of the Great Orm. My Magyk has now released it from its Frozen imprisonment and soon it will be free to fulfill its destiny and become a beautiful Orm. But first it must be retrieved.”

  Oraton-Marr looked down at the huddle of PathFinders. His voice acquired an edge of menace. “The Orm Tube is about fifty feet deep. One by one, you will dive down to the bottom. And do not fear, ha-ha”—he chuckled at what he thought was a good joke coming up—“do not fear that this will be difficult. It will be easy to reach the bottom, for you will each have a belt of lead around your waist. And you will each in turn have a chance to find the Egg of the Orm and bring it to the surface. Anyone who returns without the egg will be thrown back in until they have it. Or do not return at all. The choice is yours.”

  At last Ferdie understood that what Torr had said was really true. She looked at Tod, horrified. “No one can go that deep and survive. No one.”

  “Some can,” whispered Tod.

  Ferdie stared at Tod as though she were mad. “No, they can’t,” she said.

  Tod shook her head. “Some can,” she repeated. “But most can’t.”

  “Send the first one in!” shouted Oraton-Marr.

  The guard prodded Jonas Sarn forward but Rosie came too, clutching Jonas’s hand. The guard understood that Rosie wanted to jump with her husband, and he did not stop her. He would have wanted his wife to do the same, he thought—though he doubted she would. The guard fastened the weight belt around Jonas’s waist, muttering his apologies as he did so. Then he unclipped one of the light globes dangling from the cage and pressed it into Jonas’s unwilling free hand.

  As Jonas and Rosie looked into each other’s eyes to say good-bye, a shout came from inside the cage. “Stop! I will jump! I will get you what you want.”

  Tod’s heart did a weird, happy-sad flip and she found she had forgotten how to breathe. She watched a tall figure step forward and she no longer knew if she was awake or dreaming. He was here. Alive. Her father. Dan Moon.

  Dan’s natural authority was such that the guard did not object when he unclipped Jonas’s weight belt and placed it around his own waist. As Jonas stood dumbstruck, Dan confidently took the light from his hand. And then, before Tod had a chance to call out, Dan Moon had launched himself into the water in a perfect dive.

  Too late, Tod found her voice. “No!” Her shout cut through the sound of the neat splash. “No, no!”

  “Who is that brat?” Oraton-Marr asked, peering into the dimness below.

  “There’s a whole pack of them down there,” the Lady said grumpily. “I told you before. Like rats.”

  “Dad!” screamed Tod. “Dad, Dad!” She pushed her way forward and people in front stepped aside to allow her through. Tod stood on the edge of the Orm Tube and stared down into its black depths: Dan Moon and his light were gone.

  “Get rid of that brat,” snarled Oraton-Marr. “Shove it in too.” But there was no need. Copying her father’s graceful dive, Tod put her hands above her head and dived into the deep, dark blue.

  GILLS

  The cold made Tod gasp with shock. Icy water rushed into her nose and mouth. She coughed, spluttered and a sharp stab shot into her eyes. It was the pain of ice-cold water filling up the spaces behind her nose, awakening her gills. Tod coughed once more, she gulped again for air and took in yet more water. The back of her throat closed up and she spat the water out. Tod felt the water swirling into her sinuses, filling her head and making it heavy. She felt her face grow numb with the cold and instinctively closed her mouth and took a deep breath through her nose. The pain of the cold stayed but her head cleared; she felt water moving through; she breathed out, pushing the precious warmth away into the ice-cold, and took another draught of icy water. It stung the back of her eyes, it made her jaw ache with the cold, but Tod did not care—she could breathe underwater. She had gills!

  Controlling her breath so she sank as quickly as possible, Tod pushed her way down the smooth sides of the rock, always looking down, hoping to see Dan’s light. But the weight belt had taken him down fast and Tod could see nothing below but blackness.

  A sudden clunk came up through the water. Something had hit the bottom. Tod was sinking rapidly, and through the blackness she now saw a dim white glow far below, showing the dark shape of a figure lying on the bottom of the burrow.

  Tod landed in the light of the sphere and Dan Moon looked up. His face, bluish-white, stared as though he had seen a ghost. He reached out to Tod, his long white fingers like tendrils, hardly daring to touch her.

  Dad! mouthed Tod. Dad! And she threw her arms around him.

  Suddenly, the PathFinder sign language made sense. Okay? Dan signed.

  Okay, Tod signed in return. And then, What to do?

  Even through the distortions of the water, Tod could see the anger in her father’s eyes. Take egg up, he signed. Knock sorcerer off perch. Like coconut. With egg.

  Where egg? Tod signed.

  Don pointed down and Tod saw beneath his foot a huge, oval shape.

  Big, signed Tod. Heavy?

  Dan nodded and then he smiled. Okay for two, he signed.

  And very good for hitting coconut, Tod signed.

  Dan laughed and Tod saw bubbles of air coming from his mouth like tiny silver fish. He joined his thumb and forefinger to make the PathFinder okay sign once more.

  Tod grinned. Okay, she signed.

  PART XII

  LAPIS LAZULI

  No more than a few feet below Tod and Dan lay the Heart of the Ways. As Dan let go of his weight belt and he and Tod struggled to grasp hold of the slippery, ice-cold egg, the torches in the Heart of the Ways sprung alight once more.

  Like a bottlebrush coming out of a bottle, Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula emerged from Way VI. Behind him came Marcia, Septimus and Simon. Milo—much to his disgust—had been left behind with his stash of weapons to guard Marcia’s Hub.

  “Welcome to my home,” said the Grula-Grula. He stood tall and proud, his orange fur tinged with blue dust of the lapis, his pink eyes shining with joy at having guided such eminent Wizards through what all Grula-Grulas considered to be their Ancient Ways.

  Marcia and Simon looked around in amazement, but Septimus remembered his manners. “We thank you for your guidance, O wise Grula,” he said.

  Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula bowed, and a sprinkling of blue fell lazily from his fur.

  Marcia was awestruck. Lapis was a Magykal stone and the Castle was reputed to contain the largest amount of lapis lazuli in the world, but even she had never seen so much lapis in one place. It looked as though Driffa’s story of the Egg of the Orm was true. Marcia began to grow very concerned. If Oraton-Marr did indeed get the egg—and, of course, manage to hatch it—then he, too, could produce vast amounts of lapis lazuli. The Castle could soon find itself in thrall to a very powerful sorcerer indeed.

  Septimus was equally stunned. “This is a powerful place,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber as an icy drop of water landed on his hair and ran down the back of his neck. “Fair Grula, I pray you tell us,” Septimus said. “Where is the Egg of the Orm?”

  The Grula-Grula began to hum a h
igh-pitched tune, which he had a tendency to do when worried, then he raised a long, hairy arm and pointed to the dome of lapis above. “It is up there,” he said. “Wrapped in ice for its sleep.” A sudden deluge of water landed on the Grula-Grula, soaking his fur.

  “Doesn’t look like it’s ice anymore,” Marcia muttered.

  Clutching a handful of Lucy’s ribbons, Simon cared nothing for the Egg of the Orm. All he could think of was his wife and son. “But where are they?” he muttered, looking around. “How do we get out of here?”

  Grula-Grulas tended to be shortsighted and Benhira-Benhara was no exception. He screwed up his eyes and squinted at the round hole between Way I and Way XII, puzzled by the shine of metal across it. “Through there,” he said. “But now there are bars.”

  Simon strode off across the smooth lapis floor, slippery with water, oblivious to the icy drips, which were falling fast now. At the barred exit he saw, just beyond the portcullis, the last of Lucy’s ribbons. “They’re here!” he shouted, shaking the bars impatiently. A trickle of stones fell from the roof.

  “Leave it be, Simon,” Marcia said, hurrying after him. “There’s an easier way to get through bars than that. I’ll do a Flux.”

  Simon gave the portcullis another angry pull and a serious shower of gravel and stone fell, covering them in blue grit. “I’ve got it!” he shouted. “It’s coming away.” But it was not the portcullis shifting; it was the stone above it. With the sound of rolling thunder, the roof of the passage collapsed, blocking their way out and covering Lucy’s ribbon with rock. Simon swung around, his eyes desperate. “I don’t care what I have to do,” he said in a low voice. “But I have to get to them. Now.”

  Marcia put her hand on Simon’s arm. “Simon, please. We need to calm down and think this through.”

  Simon, however, had no need to think—he knew what he must do. He dropped to his knees and began scrabbling through the stones that had skittered out from the rockfall.

  Marcia was afraid that Simon had gone crazy. “Please, Simon, stop,” she said. “We will get to Lucy and William, I promise you. We just need a little time to work out how.”

  “William doesn’t have any time,” Simon said tersely, stabbing a finger at his timepiece. Then he resumed his frantic clawing through the stones, picking up the larger ones, inspecting them and throwing them away in disgust.

  Septimus knew his brother well enough to see that there was some method in what he was doing. He dropped to his knees beside Simon and said gently, “Si, what are you looking for?”

  “Lapis,” he muttered. “I need a good, smooth piece big enough to fill my palm.”

  Septimus rocked back on his heels. He suddenly realized what Simon was going to do. “Not a Blind Transport?” he said.

  “Yep,” muttered Simon.

  “But that’s suicide.”

  Simon looked up, and Septimus saw the determination in his brother’s eyes and the power behind it. “Not necessarily,” Simon said. “Not if I Go Through with Like-for-Like. Not if I find the right piece of lapis.” He swore. “But I can’t find one. I can’t.”

  Even though Simon was now an Alchemist, his first love had been Magyk, and some of his Magykal skills would put the everyday Ordinary Wizard in the Wizard Tower to shame. Simon possessed a fair amount of Darke skills too—he had once been an assistant to the bones of a Darke Wizard.

  Septimus knew his brother was deadly serious. His hand went to the Magykal lapis lazuli amulet that he, like all ExtraOrdinary Wizards before him, wore around his neck. Known as the Akhu Amulet, it was imbued not only with power from the Wizard Tower, but upon accepting it, Septimus had—as was traditional—transferred most of his own personal Magyk into its core. Without the Akhu Amulet, Septimus was little more Magykal than Miranda Bott. But despite this, he knew what he must do. Septimus pulled the amulet over his head and held it out to Simon.

  “No!” both Marcia and Simon exclaimed together.

  “Yes,” Septimus said calmly. “This is ancient Orm lapis. The best Like-for-Like you can get. But more important than that, it will protect you. Take it, Simon. Please, take it.”

  Simon stared at the beautiful teardrop stone bounded by a gold band with the delicate lines of a dragon scribed into it. Never, not even in his most fevered dreams, had it ever crossed his mind that one day his youngest (and once-hated) brother would be holding out the Akhu Amulet to him, begging him to take it.

  Marcia said nothing. Septimus was ExtraOrdinary Wizard now. If he wished to risk giving the symbol of his office to Simon, then that was for him to do. She did not think she would have done the same, however.

  “Thank you,” Simon murmured. “I will return it, I promise you on my life.”

  Septimus pushed the amulet into Simon’s hands and felt an emptiness come over him. Simon clutched the warm lump of lapis in his palms and felt the power of thousands of years of Magyk coursing through him. Exhilarated, he raced to the center of the Heart of the Ways and stood exactly beneath the head of the Great Orm. Looking up at the coils of lapis roof, Simon raised his arms like a diver and began to murmur the Blind Transport Incantation.

  Septimus lip-read the Darke words: ekat em, Nomis, sipal nihtiw sipal. There was a flash of what Septimus called Darke light, and Simon Heap and the Akhu Amulet were gone, drawn up into the rock above, Like joining with Like. A sudden downpour of ice-cold water from the very spot that Simon had Gone Through drenched them all.

  “Umbrella?” asked Marcia.

  “Yes, please,” Septimus said rather faintly.

  “Umbrella!” Marcia commanded. A rounded purple canopy spread over their heads and the water stopped pouring onto them. The Grula-Grula, which now looked not unlike an enormous, upright drowned cat—and just as miserable—shuffled underneath the Umbrella apologetically. He smelled of wet and very old dog.

  The water hammered down on their purple canopy and Marcia shepherded Septimus out of the deluge and took shelter in the entrance of one of the Ways. Septimus looked shocked and pale. Marcia reached up, took off Septimus’s purple wool beanie, which Sarah had knitted for him and he had taken to wearing—much to Marcia’s disapproval. She wrung out the hat, did a quick Dry spell and put it back on Septimus’s head.

  “Now, Septimus,” she said. “Give me your dragon ring.”

  Septimus looked down at the ring he wore on his right index finger, a beautiful gold dragon with an emerald eye, biting its tail. “Why?” he asked, sounding as though he had little interest in the answer.

  Marcia put her arm around his shoulders. “You remember many years ago, when I was prisoner on the Vengeance? When I no longer had the amulet and was sick from the loss of my Magyk?”

  Septimus gave Marcia a small smile. He remembered. He had been only ten years old; a Young Army Expendible known as Boy 412. It felt like another lifetime.

  Marcia continued. “Septimus, you gave me this Dragon Ring to help me. And it did. Do you know how?”

  Septimus shook his head.

  “You had natural Magyk even then, and some of it had flowed into the ring. So when you gave me your Dragon Ring, that Magyk came to me. So I know this ring can be a conduit for Magyk. If you give it to me again, just for a few minutes, I will transfer as much Magyk as I can into it. And then, Septimus, when you are up and running again, I have a plan to get us out of here and back on the trail of Oraton-Marr.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. But I need a few quiet minutes to remember my time here as a child. I need to visualize a safe space to Transport to. And then we will go together.”

  Septimus shook his head. “A Transport is a personal spell, Marcia. You can’t take me with you.”

  “Quite right,” Marcia said briskly. “So when you’ve got some Magyk back you can do a MindScreen on me and I will show you the space. I will show you all the information you need to get there. It won’t be easy, I admit, but it is the very least I would expect from my ex-Apprentice. Now hand over that ring.”

  S
eptimus did as he was told. “You know, Marcia,” he said ruefully, “I knew being ExtraOrdinary Wizard was going to be . . . well, extraordinary. But I never expected to be giving the Akhu Amulet to Simon while I waited in a cavern in a rainstorm with a soaking shag carpet treading on my toes—get off, will you?” This last was addressed to the Grula-Grula, which had moved in very close.

  Marcia looked down sadly at her shoes, from which the purple python skin was peeling away. “Well, Septimus, if I learned anything when I was ExtraOrdinary Wizard, it was this.”

  “What?”

  “Expect the unexpected.”

  THE ORM TUBE

  Time slowed for Simon as the Enchantment took him up through the lapis lazuli and the echo of an ancient creature deep within. A mineral chill entered his bones, and in his right eye, where he had long ago placed a Darke compress over a deep cut, Simon felt a stab of pain and the sensation of stone entering his eye socket. Fear struck deep into him, knowing that his whole body could be turned to lapis. But there was no going back. Like a worm burrowing through rock, Simon laboriously progressed through the palimpsest of the Great Orm.

  At the bottom of the Orm Tube, Dan and Tod began to swim slowly upward, holding the Egg of the Orm. It was heavy and glassy-smooth, and muscles aching, they held it tight, afraid that it would slip from their grasp and tumble to the depths.

  Dan risked some quick signs. Faster. Or someone else will be thrown in.

  Suddenly a pressure wave from below sent them rocketing up.

  Far below at the bottom of the Orm Tube, Simon emerged through the coldness of stone into the darkness of water. Immediately his once-much-practiced Darke Art of Suspension Underwater kicked in and Simon, feeling as though he were still full of rock, forced himself to ascend through the icy chill.

  Tod and Dan burst out from the Orm Tube in a spume of dusty blue water, clutching a huge blue egg. A sound of wonder ran through the chamber. “Aaaaoooooh . . .”