by Laurie McKay
“What now?” Brynne said.
“Well,” Jane said. “We have to smash the stapler and get the energy out of it. So let’s smash it into the water.”
“But it won’t put that energy into the tablet,” Brynne said.
“Then we pour the water over it. After the smashing,” Jane said.
“Oh.” Brynne brightened. “That might work.”
Brynne grabbed the half-full cup. “We need something bigger. I’ll find a pan instead.” As she walked past Caden, she tripped on a metal wrench and dumped the water on his head. Caden wiped wet hair from his forehead. Brynne smirked a bit and hurried out of the room.
“Bro, we need to stick you in a sack of rice, too,” Tito said.
Brynne returned a moment later with a plastic tub of water. Now that Caden watched, she moved slower and less sure than usual. It had been a long day, and Brynne was easily drained by magic. She’d toppled tables and set umbrellas aflame already.
Brynne put the tub on the carpet. Jane placed the stapler in the water and lifted the hammer.
“Ready,” Jane said.
“Smash it,” Brynne said.
With a look of glee, Jane pounded the Enchanted Stapler of Stapling with the Enchanted Hammer of Smashing. Bang. Splish. Bang. Splash. The metal head of the stapler dented.
“Girl’s got some rage,” Tito said, but he sounded impressed. Caden couldn’t help but agree. Jane had been through a lot, and though she seemed so calm on the surface, underneath she likely had a lot of fury.
Ripples emanated from the stapler. The water’s surface took on a silvery film.
“It’s working,” Brynne said. She was out of breath. “Quickly.”
Jane set aside the hammer. She lifted the tub and poured the water over the tablet’s screen.
“Please don’t break my tablet,” Tito said, clasping his hands together and rocking back and forth. “Please.”
The screen stayed lit. Caden and Tito crawled back to the middle of the room. Like points on the compass, they each took a seat at one side of Tito’s water-covered tablet. Beside Jane, the stapler lay in a dented heap. Caden peered into the water-drenched tablet, but all he saw was his water-soaked reflection.
“Nothing’s happening,” Jane said.
“Not yet,” Brynne said. “Razzonian communication pools work by utilizing concentration, reflective quality, and telepathy magic. The camera is the visual connection. The sacrificed life force fuels the spell. But I have to magic us, too, so we can telepathically connect with those on the other side.”
She touched Jane’s forehead and Tito’s shoulder. She touched Caden’s cheek lightly. She held his gaze for a moment, her finger lingered, and he felt his cheeks heat. Then the tingle of sorcery rushed through his body.
The water on the screen shimmered, and ripples radiated from the center. The glow of the screen turned soft silver. An image appeared, one that was certainly not a reflection. Caden, Brynne, Tito, and Jane leaned over and looked into another world—into the Great Hall of the Winter Castle.
Home. Caden saw home. For the first time in almost eight months, he saw his people.
Brynne placed her palm just above the water. “It’s working. It’s working, prince!” She grinned. “Hello! Hello!”
Everything within the hall was large and ornate. A midnight-blue wool rug with gold and silver silk trim covered the marble floor and stretched as wide and long as the hall itself. Elite Guards stood stationed along the walls, and there were many people: guardsmen, merchants, nobles. The sound of chatter and life made Caden feel as if he was there. He could almost smell the woody scent of the hearths that kept the castle warm, almost feel the cool drafts that wafted through the castle as doors opened and closed.
From the angle, they looked into the hall from the Mirror of the Sunsnake. Long ago, it had been a gift from Summerlands diplomats. An image of the Sunsnake, the Elderkind that protected the Summerlands, was carved into the mirror’s massive frame. Although old and valuable, the mirror wasn’t magical on its own.
Suddenly a woman stopped and checked her reflection. An expensive, high-collared silver-and-gold frock covered her shoulders, and a Korvan battle staff was strapped across her back. Her hair was long and black, her skin pale like moonlight. Her eyes were as black as midnight yet twinkled like stars.
She appeared young, but Caden knew she was older. She’d magicked herself to look youthful and beautiful—not unlike a certain other sorceress he knew. The woman was the powerful sorceress Lyn. She was Brynne’s mother.
Brynne’s face lit up, and her hand began to tremble. “Mom! Mom! Mom!”
Lyn didn’t respond or register that she’d heard. Instead, she fixed her hair and her collar. A slightly shorter figure stepped up beside her. His hair was cropped and black. His skin was dark like obsidian stone, and he had silvery eyes like Brynne. He carried a spellcaster’s ax. It was Brynne’s father, Madrol.
The staff and ax struck Caden as strange. It was rare that he’d seen Brynne’s parents carry weapons. Like Brynne, their magic was enough to protect them. It was enough to warn others away.
“Daddy!” Brynne said.
Madrol, too, checked his reflection and smoothed his hair.
Caden raised a brow. “Vanity runs in your family.”
“Jeez. Good looks, too,” Tito said.
Caden glanced across at Tito. “They magic themselves, that’s why.”
“Hush, prince,” Brynne said. She leaned closer to the water and screen. “Mom! Dad! Can you hear me! Can you see me?”
Neither Lyn nor Madrol gave any indication they heard or saw Brynne. Brynne pursed her lips. She leaned so close to the tablet, her head blocked most of it from Caden’s view.
Why weren’t they answering? “Try again,” Caden said.
Brynne tried four more times. She yelled so loud that Rosa called up at them to quiet down, so loud Caden felt certain the mountain outside heard. Her parents, however, didn’t. Brynne sat back on her heels.
Jane took her hand. “I don’t think they can hear you.”
Caden waved in front of the screen. “Or see us.” He glanced at Brynne. She looked stricken. Her lip trembled, and he felt his heart sink.
On the screen, Brynne’s parents gazed at each other. They too looked stricken. “We’ll find her,” her father said.
Were they talking about Brynne? After all, she’d been missing as long as Caden.
Lyn arched a brow and nodded. “And anyone involved in taking her from us will suffer.”
Caden suddenly understood where Brynne’s temper came from—her mother.
“And they shall suffer like none before them,” her father replied. Or maybe it came from both parents. A double dose. That made perfect sense.
Her father took her mother’s hand, and they walked toward the large doors that led to the king’s strategy room. The Elite Guards moved to let them through. Caden watched, wanting a glimpse inside, wanting to see his father, his brothers; but an Elite Guardswoman stopped in front of the Mirror of the Sunsnake and blocked his view.
She had a golden complexion and greenish-yellow eyes. “That’s Olive from Eagle Eye Village,” Caden said. “Her mother named her for her eye color, and she joined the Elite Guard when her father got sick. Her sword skills need work; but her precision with a bow rivals my fourth-oldest brother, Martin, and he’s gifted in accuracy.”
Though likely hopeless, Caden tried speaking to Olive. She seemed content inspecting her eyebrows. As she stepped away, she kept her hand on her dagger. That was another oddity. Why would she be on guard while in the hall?
Brynne seemed to have collected herself. “The connection isn’t complete,” she said, and sniffed. She cocked her head. Her cap tilted. “But it’s not fading either. Usually the magic is more fleeting.”
“It’s only our first try,” Jane said.
But Caden was getting frustrated. The third part of the spell was tomorrow. They didn’t have time to try things. This ha
d to work. “We need to warn them and soon, not spy on them,” he snapped.
“That’s not helping, Caden,” Jane said.
A figure in black dashed through the crowd. Brynne pointed to the corner of the screen. “Is that Prince Lucian?”
At the name of one of his brothers, Caden snapped his gaze back to the screen. How he wished to see them, to know they were okay. Lucian was third-born and gifted in stealth. When he moved, he was silent and became one with the shadows.
On the screen, a figure with desert-brown hair darted through the crowd. There was no wasted movement. Each step was precise. Caden felt relief at seeing the figure. But it wasn’t third-born Lucian.
“That’s Martin, my fourth-born brother.” While stealthy Lucian was deadly with a dagger, accurate Martin was deadly with a bow and throwing dagger.
“Oh,” Brynne said.
Lucian and Martin were born on different ends of the same turn of year, a mere ten months apart on the Ashevillian calendar. They were the skinniest and wiriest of all Caden’s brothers, and they looked enough alike to be mistaken for each other.
“Lucian is shorter,” Caden said. “He moves differently.” Also Lucian’s gift of stealth made him as hard to find in a crowd as in a dim-lit room. It took practice to spot him. Caden scanned the crowd. Again he felt overcome. Lucian was in the crowd. Caden pointed to what at first glance seemed to be a shadow trailing Martin. “That’s Lucian.”
Why was Lucian trailing Martin? Shouldn’t they be side by side?
Caden didn’t see fifth-born Landon, and his dented and charred dress emblem was still in Caden’s right pocket. Nor did he see first-born Valon or traitorous Maden. But no black drapes hung in the Great Hall. If Landon was dead, if he’d been killed, the hall would be black with mourning drapes. Those things should have made Caden feel better.
But they didn’t. The emblem had fallen from the sky mere hours earlier. The castle wouldn’t have had time to hang black drapes yet. They might not yet know if fifth-born Landon was in trouble. They might not know if he was dead.
Chadwin had been stabbed in the night, and they hadn’t found him until morning. Caden sat back and cleared his mind of thoughts of Chadwin, of visions of Landon in the same pose with a dagger in his back and blood around his body, of his emblem tossed into evil winds.
It was better not to remember finding Chadwin, better not to imagine finding Landon. Caden took in a shaky breath. “It is good to see home, but it does not help us if we can’t communicate.”
More and more people passed down the hall: Elite Guards, regular guards, meadow gnome scouts, battle gnomes, Summerlands strategists. Then Caden saw something that truly worried him. The guards, gnomes, and scouts parted as a winged figure with a five-pointed spear marched toward the king’s chambers. That was a war wraith. Why would the king ever bring a war wraith to the castle?
On the other side of the tablet, Jane sat cross-legged. She tapped her fingers against the floor. “I should just enchant the tablet to make the connection stronger,” she said. “It has metal parts.”
“No,” Tito said. “You can’t do that. You put too much life force into these things, you die. Remember?” He motioned to Caden, then Brynne. “The fantasy people said so.”
“We don’t know that I’d die,” Jane said. “I’ll try to put just a little life force into it.”
This was the problem with enchanters. They wanted to enchant. And it was almost impossible to stop them. It’s why they never lived very long. By fate’s favor, Jane’s elvish blood and Brynne’s small-enchantment plan would help her live longer than most.
“It’s too strong an enchantment,” Brynne said. “The tablet is a complex device, and the magic is complicated, too. The more complicated the magic, the more life force it would take. Even as a half elf these enchantments shorten your life. If the stapler took off half a year, something to communicate across realms could take off half your life span.”
“Wait,” Tito said. “That stapler took off half a year?”
Brynne fidgeted. “I’m just guessing.”
“Wait.” Tito looked truly concerned. “How much life force did that cursed ladle take?” The Aging Ladle of Justice wasn’t a complex item, but the curse attached to it was. Tito reached and touched his once-enchanted necklace. “How much did this take?”
“It saved you. Whatever it was,” Jane said, “it was worth it.”
Brynne slid her hand across the water on the screen’s surface. “We need more life force for a stronger signal. We’ll collect things Jane’s already enchanted and use them all.” She caught Caden’s gaze. Her eyes flickered to his coat.
Caden tensed and pulled it tighter.
“Oh relax, prince,” Brynne said. “I’m not eyeing your coat. You can get the Enchanted Whisk of Mixing, right?”
That item Jasan used to mix eggs. “I’ll ask Jasan to bring it once he’s back to his human self.” Caden returned his gaze to the screen. It was good to see home.
Flick. The screen went black. The tablet powered down. What? Wait. “Why did it stop?” Caden said.
Tito grabbed the tablet and shook off the water. “Dude,” he said. “The battery is out.”
“What are you four watching?” Rosa said. She stood by the door in her purple robe. Her yellow shirt was visible under the too-short sleeves. She peered at the tablet and frowned. “And why is Tito’s tablet wet?”
“It was necessary for the spell,” Caden said.
“Spell?”
Brynne explained.
Caden couldn’t tell if Rosa believed them or not. She seemed tired, exasperated, drained from the night’s events. All she said was “Just be careful with Tito’s tablet. He worked hard for it. All of you need to rest. Let’s call it an early night.”
Caden wasn’t ready to sleep. He motioned to the drip-laden screen. “We saw the Winter Castle’s Great Hall.” He also stood. “When the device recharges, I’ll show you my home.”
Rosa looked skeptical. “We’ll see.” She kissed Jane on the head. “And don’t forget to put in your eye gel before bed.”
“I won’t,” Jane said.
She tempered her expression and drew Brynne in for a hug. “And let me know if you need me.” There was nothing like a girl with no hair and lost parents to soften Rosa.
“I will,” Brynne said.
Tito looked away like he was uncomfortable, though Caden knew that wasn’t the case. “Tito also wants a hug,” he said.
“I don’t,” Tito said.
“Future Elite Paladins should always be honest, Sir Tito,” Caden said, but Rosa had already pulled Tito close.
While Tito and Jane hurried to get ready for school—Caden had packed his bag and laid out his clothes the night before; a true Paladin is always prepared—Brynne texted Caden a smiley face and a winky face. It was her code for him to meet her beside the house. They would have to wait until after school to contact the Greater Realm again, so he didn’t know what she wanted.
Caden ducked past Rosa, who sat at the table with her shoulders hunched like great thoughts weighed on her, then headed outside. It was a crisp morning—the sky was clear blue, the air dry. As always, however, Caden’s coat offered him warmth.
Brynne waited near the copper and pewter flowers. Her hat was tugged snug down to her ears, and her cheeks were rosy. There were hoofprints by her feet, a sign that Sir Horace had been by during the night. When she saw Caden, she smiled and twisted her hands together. “I know what to do about your curse,” she said. “And I intend to fix it right now.”
Wait? What? She knew how to break his curse. Caden felt a smile spread across his face. This was good news indeed. Brynne could fix him. Well, of course she could. Caden always had faith in his allies. “You can break it?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m taking a different approach.”
Suddenly, Caden felt his faith being tested. He knew of no approaches to break a curse other than to break a curse. “That makes no sense.”<
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“It does, Caden,” Brynne said. “I’ve had this idea for a while, but I couldn’t figure out how to time it right. I thought I’d need to act just as the curse descended on you, but that would be tricky, as the moon phases depend on day, month, year, and orbit.”
That was Ashevillian science. Science, tech, and magic were her strong points. Caden sighed. “And?”
“And now I have figured out how to fix your curse without having to do it as the curse descends. I can do it today. Before the half-moon curse descends on you tomorrow.”
All this sounded good. And suspicious. If she knew how to fix everything, why were her eyes wide? Why was she biting her lower lip? Caden stepped back. “For someone who’s solved our great curse problem, you seem nervous and wary. How is it you will fix it?”
“If I tell you, you might say no.”
“Then you should definitely tell me.”
“I don’t want you talking me out of it,” she said. “Like I said, I need you to trust me.”
Lucian, gifted in stealth, warned to be wary of such words. But that was when they came from strangers. Brynne was his closest ally. And if Caden considered Tito a brother and Jane possibly a sister, wasn’t Brynne then his best friend?
His thoughts began to embarrass him. He looked away from Brynne and up to the mountain and morning sky.
He and Brynne had fought villains; they’d braved a strange new world together; they texted smiley faces back and forth. If she didn’t want to tell him what she was about to do, he probably wouldn’t let her do it if he knew. Future Elite Paladins, however, trusted their partners.
He returned his gaze to her. “I do trust you,” he said. “You’re my partner and my closest friend.”
She went a bit rosy, a bit smug. “Maybe more than a friend.”
This was why Caden regretted telling Brynne things at times. She always had to outdo him. He felt his cheeks heat but stood straighter. “Maybe. Definitely not a sister, anyway,” he said.
“You’ve told me that before,” she said. “So I win.”
“It’s not a competition.”
