“What must we prove?” Groth asked.
“Answer me this, and you shall enter.”
The gargoyle rehearsed a riddle to them:
“Rivers carve me.
Oceans refine me.
Caves conceal me.
Kingdoms caress me.
What am I?”
Groth kicked the ground with his sore foot, failing to recall that it was his sore foot. He sat down to nurse it. “Not again. Can you say it once more, please?”
“This came from the mouth of my master before his demise,” rebuked the gargoyle. “Only once may I say it. One guess is all you have. Please answer carefully.”
Celesia thought about it for a moment, repeating the riddle in her head. It seemed like an easy riddle, but the answer eluded her. “There’s something strange about the way it’s said. What do you think, Groth?”
“I know that kind of riddle,” the ogre answered with a gloomy voice. “It even has a name, but I can’t recall it, and if we give the wrong answer, it will seal us in here forever with these bones. We have to give that stone face the right answer, and with only one guess.”
“Just like Flint’s enchantment,” Celesia uttered softly. “I wonder if there’s a connection. Ereman riddled this chamber, and he turned Flint into ... what he is.”
Groth glanced at her. “You know about that?”
“I’ve said too much,” she answered, as Groth would have if he divulged more information than he wanted to. “I’ll explain later. Help me figure out this riddle.”
They sat together by a patch of dirt and debated for a few minutes. No plausible answer seemed relevant. At first they thought the answer was gold, but oceans couldn’t refine such a thing. She tried to remember the features of Sarandretta’s cave, the sparkling gems that seemed to grow from dangling stalactites. How were rivers involved with caves? She wrote the riddle into the ground with her finger, and vigilantly hovered over it. Was there a hidden meaning? A double meaning? Rivers carved the earth. Ocean waves could polish stone into sand. Not all caves were concealed. How then would a kingdom fit in with the rest of these vague clues?
She read the riddle again in a different way, and the answer suddenly came to her. “You’re a rock!”
The gargoyle smiled. “That I am.”
The door slowly creaked open.
Groth’s mouth opened. “How’d you figure that?”
Celesia traced a line from the top of the riddle to the bottom where the sentences began. “The first word of each line spells R-O-C-K. He also said, what am I? So if you took him literally, his carved head came from a rock. There’s more than one way to answer this.”
“Rocks for brains I have,” laughed the gargoyle.
Groth wiggled his toes as he followed Celesia inside. The chamber was no different than it was before, with the exception of more light this time. A ray of it entered the room from one of the high windows, even though they were deep underground. The fireplace didn’t have a living flame now, and the plants looked less withered.
Groth looked over the long table and stumbled on the same book that Celesia had read from. He browsed through the same passage that contained the history of the Royal Magical Family. A tear welled in his eye as he read. He paused to wipe it dry.
“Blessed moons. You think Master Flint is—?”
“—the last of the Royal Magical Family?” Celesia finished for him. “That’s what Sarandretta and I both think. Her closet led me into this room. Flint can cast magic because he is a Castor of Magic himself.”
“Have you told Master Flint this?”
Celesia rubbed her head. “I was going to, but that earthquake happened as I was explaining ... something created that quake, so I couldn’t tell him anything.”
Groth read another passage from the open book. “For six to come and death be won ...”
Celesia retrieved the crumbled parchment from her sleeve. “Here’s another passage that she showed me. A name from the Princess may liberate us. What do you think?”
“There is no questioning.” Groth looked at Celesia with a helpless stare. “Not only has Ereman chosen you to restore the land’s magic, but to lift Master Flint’s enchantment? I know he has one placed on him, but he knows about as much of it as I do. I find it strange that Sarandretta would share more with you and not him, or me, or Hilander. Should I not say anything?”
Celesia thought hard for a second, and realized their answer was a definite yes. The less Flint knew about his enchantment, the safer he would be. If Flint managed to uncover his true name from their deciphered clues, he wouldn’t be able to disclose it. If he ever tried to state or give a hint of his true name, he would die. Such a burden would be agonizing. She explained this to Groth as simply as she could, and they agreed not to speak of what they had learned, unless it was truly necessary.
They sat together, reading from the book.
Groth decided to pull out a piece of parchment of his own and a quill from his acorn pouch, to copy a few notes from the book. He also saved Celesia’s little piece of parchment in the same pouch, for safekeeping. They had no idea where to start looking for other answers.
Celesia jumped away from her part of the bench and moved for the door that once led into Sarandretta’s closet. She had almost forgotten the reason why they had come to the ruined palace in the first place.
“The other fragment should be right around here,” Celesia said, holding the gemstone away from her chest. “The Dragon’s Heart pulled me near this hinge.”
Groth bolted from his seat. “Look out, Princess!”
Celesia turned in time to see a line of sparks dancing in the air, flying for her hair. She was prepared this time. Placing the hood of her cloak over her auburn locks, the fairy bounced off her cowl and twirled like a dizzy dragonfly. This made it easy for Groth to catch the little creature. He raised his other palm and ground his teeth, as he prepared to slap his two hands together.
“Don’t!” Celesia stopped him. “I know her.”
“You?” Taika jeered. “Didn’t learn your lesson?”
“We came a different way, through that door.”
Taika leapt into the air, and straightened her tiny skirt. “It let you in? That’s impossible! You solved the riddle? So many have died trying to answer it.”
“We noticed,” Groth snarled at her. “Much good your sorry lot did to help them find a way out of that labyrinth, after giving up and wanting to go home!”
“Watch your oversized tongue, ogre,” Taika warned. “You might lose it!”
“Please don’t fight. Can you help us, Taika?” Celesia asked respectfully. “It’s important.”
The fairy darted higher into the air. “Why should I help you? You’re breaking and entering.”
“When you forced me to leave, I felt something pull on this necklace.” Celesia held up the gemstone. “Part of it is missing. It must be somewhere in this room.”
“And you will never find it,” said a new voice.
Unknown to Celesia and the ogre, an assemblage of fairies had swarmed into the room. Thousands of them. The closest fairy wore a glamorous dress. She stretched her hands and threw a shock that immobilized Groth, like the charm that Sarandretta had used in her cave. It had no effect on Celesia. Magic couldn’t touch her.
“You resist my magic, young human,” said the lady fairy. “You seem a sensible child. Why have you come in search of the Dragon’s Heart? Do you not know the Alchemist seeks it for his own dark purposes? We hid the fragment in anticipation of your coming, seeing this is not your first time in this chamber. As for the Heart, you’re journey to restore it was a waste of time. Never again will we allow the fragments to find each other. Alkivar is sure to return if it is made whole again.”
“You have nothing to fear, miss,” Groth squirmed to speak. “This is the princess Ereman spoke of in his final words. She carries his dagger and two parts of the Dragon’s Heart already. We want to restore the magic of the land before
Alkivar has a chance to reclaim it.”
“Silence,” ordered the fairy—who was also a Castor of Magic. “I am Modlyn, chieftess of the LaVóndian fair folk. No trespasser has ever slipped under our guard, but you have entered twice, Princess. I see that your watchful eye is lacking, Taika!” The fairy hovered over Celesia, bowing her head in shame. “Your stay will be permanent as with our other guests,” Modlyn said after quieting the others. “That is the consequence you will pay for trespassing on Ereman’s sacred lair.”
“We have friends,” Celesia warned. “Please don’t try to stop us. We only want to do what Ereman started. If you won’t let us go, our friends will find us and free us.”
The fairy army laughed with a rambunctious air.
Modlyn heckled. “Sooner than you may wish.”
The chieftess raised her hands and two small boxes appeared out of thin air, where they floated onto the surface of the nearest table. They looked more like tiny cages, and something unexpected and mortifying stared back at them. They had captured Hilander and Flint.
The two looked at her like helpless mice.
Chapter 14
Fleeing the Fairies
A terrible dread swept over Celesia as she looked at Flint and Hilander, trapped in their diminutive state—frightened and angry. She feared what the fairies were capable of, and what they would do to them, while she fought the urge to swat the creatures left and right.
“Don’t antagonize them, Celesia,” Flint chirped. His tiny form had a shrill effect on his voice, peeping like a hatched chick. “They thrive on watching their victims suffer. Kept a calm head, and you’ll do fine.”
“Serves you right for defiling this sacred ruin with your filthy magic,” Modlyn scorned. “We will place the rest of you in cages momentarily—but first, I want to speak with the comely girl. There is no need for the ogre to ally himself with her any longer.”
A sudden flow of scarlet light blasted from Modlyn’s hands, striking Groth in the center of his chest. The spell surrounded him. Another small cage replaced him, trapping him inside like the others. He grabbed the skinny bars and tested them. Although no wider than toothpicks, they were too strong. The cage shrunk and rose into the air, and joined the others on the table.
“Now,” said Modlyn, flying a little closer to Celesia. The other fairies hovered in the air, as if waiting for a reason to attack. “What business does a girl have with creatures like these? Do you actually believe that you are Ereman’s extended hand, the vessel of his magic? What makes you think you are as your companions claim? Tell us the truth, for we will know otherwise.”
“Look, I’ve never thought of myself as what you’re describing,” Celesia answered, maintaining her strong voice. She couldn’t let these creatures provoke her. “Keeping us from the Dragon’s Heart will make things worse. Alkivar may be using my kingdom to gather his forces. Even if he doesn’t obtain the Dragon’s Heart, he may still take control of every land with a great army.”
Modlyn hovered closer to Celesia’s head, showing off her delicate face and slim figure. “We are aware of Bëdoustram’s plight. You are rather informed of the events that are surrounding our plains, and we know about these happenings because of the faint whisperings of the earth in our ears—only someone with magical influence is so attuned. How have you acquired this?”
Celesia wasn’t sure what to tell them. If she spoke dishonestly, would they really know? It was Tuke who told her about the gathering men. Would the fairies be unimpressed or angered if she shared such news? She tapped her fingers on her belt. The answer came to her.
“I’m enchanted.”
Some of the fairies murmured in unison.
“Enchanted?” Modlyn asked vapidly. “How are you enchanted, and just who would enchant you?”
“Sarandretta, at my mother’s request.”
Modlyn’s pretentious smile fell at the utterance of the mage’s name. “The witch of Olgena? Yes. She is known to sneak in here from time to time. Taika has never managed to catch her.” The berated fairy slouched. “You did not satisfy my question,” Modlyn continued. “Why would a mage enchant a human in this age? Tell us the name by which your mother was known.”
“Clariön.”
A stilled silence filled the chamber. The chieftess swayed in the air, looking faint. “What did you say?” her voice was trembling. “The name of your mother?”
“Clariön,” Celesia answered. “You knew her?”
“Of course I did. Clariön was my daughter!”
The imprisoned companions exchanged surprised glances. “What?!” Celesia asked. “She was a fairy?”
“A fairy for a grandmother ...” Hilander whinnied.
“Silence mule!” Modlyn reproved the stallion. “She wasn’t my real daughter. We found her in the middle of a terrible storm. Rainfalls are violent in the spring. It is common for floods to cover the plains during unceasing torrents, and while some of us looked for shelter, we heard an infant cry. We found a cradle washed up along the riverbank, with a human girl lying in drenched rags. It is against our credence to leave the innocent alone to die, so we provided for her until she decided to live with her own kind. She might as well have been one of us. No kinder heart has ever lived in a human’s chest, not since the demise of King Axel.”
No. This couldn’t be true. There was no chance in a hundred years that her mother was an abandoned child, raised among cruel fairies. The anger that Celesia tried so hard to hold back was boiling to overflowing. She lowered her arms and grasped onto the dagger’s hilt. She pulled the silver blade from its sheath and held it in front of her, before she knew what she was doing.
“Stop!” Flint chirped. “You will insult them.”
Modlyn laughed. “She is too late for that.”
Celesia’s hand trembled. She didn’t know what had come over her. Then she had an idea. If Modlyn was a Castor of Magic ... “Please, let them go!”
“Do you think you can win, child?”
Celesia held her ground. “I’ll find out.”
The fairy shook her head. “I sense a portion of my lovely Clariön in you. Your appearance and stubborn will is a reflection of her. However, you are not my lovely Clariön. Brandishing your weapon was a mistake. Prepare to be united with your departed mother.”
Modlyn threw up her arms and zapped a stream of magic at Celesia’s chest—just as she had hoped for. She closed her eyes and prepared for the worst, but nothing happened. The beam split at the dagger’s tip and flowed around her body. The brilliant fire leapt from its edges once more, a dazzling display that caused the other fairies to scamper and hide among bookshelves, while Modlyn’s eyes glowered in protest. The fairy ceased her spell, and she swayed to the floor like a dried old leaf.
New words appeared on the silver blade:
How to amend our magic I will declare—
A princess is the key from our despair—
When the fire ceased, a few brave fairies glided to their fallen chieftess. Celesia’s anger simmered to an end as she reread the new line. The third part of the message was about her. Did this mean Ereman knew about her?
She walked to the table to show the others, but a swarm of fairies carried her back, and then forced her to kneel. Their collective strength was useless to resist.
“Little witch!” declared a gruff voice from among the fairy men. “You almost killed our chieftess. In fact, you committed what the Alchemist would have done!”
“What do you mean? What did I do?”
“You wear some of the Dragon’s Heart, and you’re holding a wizard’s weapon, the same tools Alkivar once used himself. By such devices, he was able to drain the magic from LaVóndia, creature by creature, leaving all of them in the hands of death. Seize her!”
“No!” Modlyn raised her hand. “Let her come, that I may examine her, and that weapon. While impossible, there is a chance that I may have misjudged her.”
They obeyed and lowered Celesia to the ground, until she was
nearly prostrate. Modlyn inspected her brown eyes for a minute. When she was strong enough to sit up, she traced her finger along the words of the dagger. The inaudible muttering from her lips made Celesia question what she was looking for. With any luck, the latest passage would be enough to set them free. The words spoke specifically of her. It was unmistakable.
“Are you truly a princess, as the ogre said?”
“I am. Clariön married King Lýnivad.”
Modlyn coughed. “Yes, I know that.”
“I’m sorry, Modlyn. I didn’t mean to intrude, or hurt you. You saw what happened. Your magic uncovered more of Ereman’s riddle, hidden in this dagger. Once we unravel the final words, we’ll know how to restore the lost magic, and Alkivar won’t be a threat anymore. Even if we uncover the complete message, it’ll be worthless without the Dragon’s Heart in full. Please, Your Grace. Where is the fragment you keep?”
“You’re a clever girl, as your mother was,” Modlyn said with a faint smile. “I am persuaded to believe you. The look in your eyes, the features of your frame, are a likeness to Clariön. That is why my heart is so pained. The threat of the Alchemist looms over us as we speak.
“The portion of the Dragon’s Heart that you have is enough to obliterate our realm. We have no choice but to relieve you of this yoke and keep you under the earth for the rest of your days. Take them away!”
Celesia pushed off the ground, and held the dagger firmly to defend herself as the fairies swarmed around her. There were so many. She had failed her friends, and she would never see Tuke again. Just then, a sudden bang caused her ears to ring. Chunks of granite flew out from a nearby wall, and a thick smoke clouded the chamber. Many of the fairies choked and sputtered in the gray mist. The air smelled of burning stones. Celesia ran for the table to protect the others when another veil of black smoke billowed into the chamber. She heard commotions and scurried steps where the explosion had taken place, followed by a husky, commanding voice.
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