The Black Fortress

by E. G. Foley

  “Where are you, you cantankerous old woman?”

  “I’m busy, old mule. Leave me alone,” came her startling reply through the ethers.

  Zolond could not resist a faint smile. “Ever the spitfire, my dear.”

  “It’s not a good time. I’m with company, Geoffrey. I will speak to you later.”

  “Nonsense. I will not be kept waiting. I am the Dark Master!”

  “Yes, yes, I know—”

  “And don’t call me Geoffrey!”

  She paused. “Would you rather I didn’t call you back at all?”

  Zolond scowled at the black crystal ball. “Fine, then. I’ll wait. Though I really don’t see what could be more important than this—” he started. Then he remembered the date. “Oh, right. It’s the Order’s annual harvest feast tonight, isn’t it?” His lips twisted cynically. “How quaint.”

  “I must see to my duties,” the Elder witch said, terse as ever. “I will contact you later.”

  “Humph,” Zolond said, but she was already gone.

  Fool, he scolded himself, leaning back in his chair. What else could he do?

  The most powerful warlock on earth could do naught but drum his fingers impatiently and muse that, perhaps, in time, the fate of all men, young and old alike, came down to this: waiting for women.

  Ah well, he supposed, some of them were worth the wait.

  Even if it took three hundred years.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Empath

  In the ballroom, Jake’s search for information had yielded nothing yet. Neither the centaurs nor the Greenfolk he’d started with an hour ago had had anything useful to say. But they’d been friendly enough, and that had made going on to the next group easier.

  It was a remarkable thing. Simply by forcing himself to act outgoing, he actually started feeling more sociable. It got easier as he went on.

  The adults he introduced himself to seemed pleased to make his acquaintance. It turned out they all had heard about him and were intrigued to meet “the lost Griffon heir,” much to his surprise.

  All in all, mingling with strangers was not as bad as Jake expected. He merely tried to emulate his cousins’ glamorous parents, Uncle Richard and Aunt Claire, diplomats for the Order.

  They were an elegant couple (though rarely at home), always smooth and refined, in control. Jake did his best to finesse the people he met just like they might have done on some ambassadorial mission to a faraway land.

  Of course, from across the ballroom, Great-Great Aunt Ramona seemed to sense that he was up to something.

  Tall and slim, with knife-hilt cheekbones and pewter hair gathered into a severe bun, the formidable Dowager Baroness Bradford wore a high-necked gown of plum-colored velvet, a brooch at her throat.

  When she noticed Jake working the room, her eagle-eyed stare homed in on him.

  If it had been Archie, always gregarious, she would not have thought twice. But for Jake, such behavior was wholly unlike him.

  The shrewd Lady Bradford sent him a penetrating stare, arching a silvery brow, as if to say, You don’t fool me, Jacob.

  Not knowing what else to do, Jake had played it cool, lifting his glass of punch to her in a polite toast from across the ballroom.

  She had pursed her lips in wry amusement at that in spite of herself. But, fortunately, as an Elder, she had hostess duties tonight, so she could not come and hound him. The next visiting dignitary had approached her to pay his respects, distracting her, and Jake had moved on in relief.

  Presently, he was chatting up a red-bearded dwarf lord who’d come down from the north.

  Good people, the dwarves. Hardworking, resourceful. Unpretentious—unlike many here. There was just something very trustworthy about the short, stocky folk, in Jake’s opinion.

  Admittedly, it was odd talking to an adult who was no taller than he was, but Laird Hamish Broadbuckle of the Deep Delves could not have been kinder. The chief of a bounteous clan up in Scotland, the proud forge lord wore a kilt and tam-o’-shanter. Full Highland regalia.

  It turned out he was related to Emrys, the head dwarf who ran Jake’s goldmine in Wales.

  They laughed to discover this unexpected connection.

  “You’re Lord Griffon?” Broadbuckle boomed, thumping Jake on the back. “Good to meet you, laddie! Emrys wrote to me and me wife a while back and told us he finally got the chance to give you the golden key to the great vault in person.”

  “Ah, Master Emrys is an excellent fellow,” Jake said warmly.

  The dwarf lord hesitated. “May I say how truly sorry I am to hear about this distressing situation with Crafanc-y-Gwrool.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Jake was touched that the laird even knew Red’s formal name. It meant Claw the Courageous in Welsh.

  “If there is anything my people can do to help him or you, you have only to ask.”

  “All I really want is information,” Jake said, keeping his voice down. “If you hear anything about the Black Fortress, any sort of lead would be most welcome.”

  Within the depths of his bushy red beard, Broadbuckle pursed his lips, then glanced around furtively and nodded. “I’m sure your auntie Ramona wouldn’t want me mentioning it to ye, but I heard they were sighted in eastern France six weeks ago. Touched down in some valley in the Alps.”

  “Really?” Jake asked, startled that he’d actually found something. Or maybe it was nothing, some six weeks after the fact. But at least it was a crumb.

  The Scots dwarf nodded. “But ye didn’t hear it from me.”

  “I understand, sir. Thank you.”

  Broadbuckle cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, when did you get in?” He nodded at the ballroom, indicating the palace in general.

  “Oh—um, we’ve actually been here since the first of August.”

  Broadbuckle slurped his ale, but his bushy red eyebrows shot up at Jake’s answer. “Aha. And what was that for? Some extra training, or…?”

  “No, nothing like that, sir. It, um, it seems the Dark Druids are after me.” Jake gave him a wry smile. “Guardian Derek Stone—he’s my head of security. He decided it’d be easier to protect me and my cousins here at Merlin Hall, rather than at home. We had to have bodyguards watching us constantly there, in case the Dark Druids tried anything. We were starting to feel like we were under house arrest. It was maddening.”

  “Ho, I can imagine!” Broadbuckle’s head bobbed emphatically. “Young folk need their freedom.”

  Jake gave him a look of heartfelt agreement. “So, Derek brought us here. The dome of protection spells covering the palace and the grounds at least lets us move about freely. It’s a lot better than having Guardians following us around every second of the day.”

  Broadbuckle nodded with approval. “Safest place for you, no doubt. Especially with old Aelfric on duty out there on the chalk hill, standing guard. What is he, three hundred feet tall?” The dwarf grinned. “Seems a bit excessive to me.”

  Jake laughed at the dwarf’s self-deprecating comment. “It certainly does. I’m glad he’s out there, though.”

  “So am I.” Broadbuckle lifted his tankard. “To Aelfric the Long Man!”

  Jake smiled back. “To Aelfric.” He clinked his goblet of punch against the dwarf lord’s cup and drank.

  Broadbuckle clapped him on the shoulder before moving off into the crowd. “You watch your back amid all this unpleasantness, laddie. And remember, if there is anything the folk of Deep Delves can do to help you get your Gryphon back safe, you’ve only to ask.”

  “My thanks, sir,” Jake said, and bowed to the stalwart chieftain.

  Broadbuckle nodded, covered a burp, and drifted off to continue speaking with other guests.

  What a capital fellow, Jake thought, pleased. Then he pondered what he’d learned about the Black Fortress. Eastern France, eh? I wonder what they were doing there.

  Henry and Helena came from that part of the world, Jake understood. He’d never been there, but he’d he
ard it was a heavily forested region in the foothills of the Alps. As he turned, wondering whom to speak to next, Maddox suddenly reappeared, his dark eyes full of urgency.

  “Isabelle’s in trouble,” the older boy said before Jake could even ask if Maddox had learned anything.

  He swallowed his questions, alarmed. “What kind of trouble?”

  Maddox snorted. “The usual kind.”

  “Oh,” Jake said in relief. “Where is she?”

  Maddox nodded toward a distant corner of the ballroom. “Over there.”

  Jake followed his nod, but could barely see his pretty blond cousin, for Izzy was surrounded on all sides by smiling young men.

  Not boys.

  “Blimey.” He frowned. “Aren’t they a bit old for her?”

  “Who cares? They’re lords,” Maddox growled, scrutinizing the situation with a cynical eye. “Figured you’d better do something, ’cause I’m already tempted to punch them.”

  “Right. We’d better go rescue her.” Jake tugged at his waistcoat, then headed in the empath’s direction.

  Maddox stalked alongside him.

  When the crowd shifted, Jake lost sight of Isabelle briefly. “What’s going on with you two these days, anyhow?”

  “Not a thing,” Maddox said.

  Jake sent him a skeptical glance.

  His friend shrugged. “No point. She’s highborn; I’m not. Besides, you know the rules.”

  Guardians were not permitted to become entangled in what the Elders called “romantic distractions.”

  “Your cousin’s fate is already mapped out for her,” Maddox added, as though he couldn’t hold his tongue. “First, her debut in London society come the spring. And soon thereafter, marriage to one of these rich toffs.”

  Jake supposed he was right. “Sorry, mate.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Maddox stared straight ahead as they walked. “Just a childish infatuation. It’s done now, anyway.”

  “Oh really? Does Isabelle know that?” Jake asked, but his friend didn’t answer, focused now on the knot of eager swains surrounding the wide-eyed soon-to-be debutante.

  Pinned against a white marble column, Isabelle looked like a doe cornered by a pack of hunting hounds.

  Jake realized in a glance what must’ve happened.

  These flashy older chaps must have mistaken her friendliness for flirting, when all the lovely young miss had meant to do was ask a few questions in an effort to dig up information on Red.

  Jake, in other words, was the one who had got her into this.

  Well, he’d get her out of it, too.

  He clenched his jaw as he strode toward his cousin, determined to rescue her.

  The gentlemen seemed delighted with her, though all they could see of Isabelle’s face at the moment was a pair of big blue eyes peeking over the edge of her fan.

  Her crown of golden tresses was pulled back with ribbons and combs and hung past her shoulders in long, shiny spirals. Dressed in a short-sleeved ball gown of cream-colored silk trimmed with gold lace, she looked almost entirely grown up.

  The bachelor lords surely viewed her as future wife material. And why should they not, Jake supposed? The aristocratic Bradford family had an excellent reputation in both the magical world and the human one, and she would have a generous dowry. Besides, marriages where the husbands were some ten years older than the wives were the norm, not the exception. Such was the case with Uncle Richard and Aunt Claire.

  But Izzy was clearly fed up with their attentions. The sight of Jake and Maddox approaching brought her out from behind her fan.

  She sent Jake a look of desperation that said: Help!

  He quirked a smile to assure her he’d get her out of there.

  What idiots, he thought when he came into earshot.

  Men in their mid-twenties, he guessed, they were doting on her like she was some adorable child. Not the fierce young Keeper of Unicorns who had whacked Garnock the Sorcerer in the head with her ivory staff.

  The fearless girl who had helped Jake face up to no lesser demon than the horrible Shemrazul himself.

  “My dear Miss Bradford, you mustn’t be afraid,” a chap in a fluffy cravat assured her with a wink. “If war comes, we will win it in a trice.”

  “That’s right. We’ll trounce ’em, don’t you fret,” said a muscular fellow with perfectly sculpted sideburns.

  “Personally, I can hardly wait to fight,” a dapper gent declared, looking pleased with himself.

  Maddox rolled his eyes.

  “Enough grim talk of war. You’re frightening her,” Cravat Man scolded the others, his tone unbearably condescending. “Let us speak of something pleasant now. Tell us, Miss Bradford, what sort of debutante ball are your parents planning for you, hmm? I had better get an invitation.”

  “Me, as well!” said Sideburns. “Will that be April or May?”

  “I’ll be positively crushed if you don’t promise me a dance.” The third chap gave her what he probably thought was a charming smile.

  “Um, gentlemen…” Isabelle shrank back against the pillar. “I fear we are w-well in advance of any such decisions.”

  They laughed and exchanged knowing glances that seemed to say, Isn’t she precious?

  “I’m gonna puke,” Maddox said under his breath.

  “Just stay back.” Jake didn’t want his Guardian friend taking a swing at any of these titled gents, or they could make Maddox’s life miserable.

  Frankly, Jake wasn’t sure himself how to proceed.

  It wasn’t as though he wanted to start a fight with five grown men in the middle of the ballroom.

  At once, a helpful thought surfaced: what would Cousin Archie do?

  After all, Isabelle’s brother had been helping her escape overzealous admirers since she was twelve. Her problem was she could never be rude to anyone. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  So she ended up getting trapped like this on occasion.

  Jake decided to take Archie’s usual approach: politely play dumb.

  With that, he elbowed his way in between two of the strapping swains and planted himself by his cousin’s side.

  The gents seemed startled by his arrival, but in no way threatened by him, a mere thirteen-year-old.

  They should be careful, thought Jake. He could act like Archie when the occasion called. But he wasn’t Archie.

  Archie was the nice one.

  Though Jake kept his smile fixed in place, he was tempted to use his telekinesis to knock them down like bowling pins. And he just might, if they gave him cause. Of course, it would probably ruin Izzy’s marriage prospects with any of these dunces, but he doubted she would mind.

  “Excuse me, dear coz,” Jake said sweetly, “the family’s going to sit down to dinner now. They’ve sent me to fetch you. Shall we?”

  He offered her his arm like the proper-est of gentlemen.

  Archie would be proud.

  Izzy clasped his arm as though it were a life ring tossed out to a drowning person at sea. She gave Jake a discreet look of gratitude, then smiled uneasily at her admirers.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. My family needs me.”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  “A pleasure, Miss Bradford.”

  “Until the spring.”

  They all bowed to her, nearly bumping heads.

  Izzy didn’t answer or bother curtsying back, but shuddered as Jake led her clear of the pack.

  Maddox closed ranks behind her, just in case any of those ponces tried to follow.

  “Well, aren’t you popular,” Jake murmured in amusement as the three of them took refuge in the crowd.

  “Ugh,” said Izzy, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “That was unpleasant. Not all emotions are fun to read, I tell you.”

  Jake gave her a startled look, and Maddox growled like a guard dog.

  “My head’s ringing,” she added. “I think I overdid it here tonight.”

  Jake frowned. He knew that Isabelle’s
empathic powers quickly became overwhelmed in large crowds. There were too many thoughts, unspoken conflicts, and swirling emotions for one person’s mind to take in. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

  “No, it’s all right,” she said. But when she wobbled a bit on her feet, he steadied her by her elbow.

  “You should sit down.”

  She shook herself. “No, I—I’m fine.”

  Jake furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?” She looked a little green around the gills to him.

  But Izzy nodded, resolute, and took a deep breath. “Feeling better already.”

  “Then would you mind telling me what the blazes all that was about?” Maddox burst out, as if he could not contain himself any longer. “Where is your governess? Where is your mother?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Izzy glanced over her shoulder at him with an offended huff.

  Maddox glowered at her. “You should not be talking to them unchaperoned. It isn’t proper!”

  “What? Don’t criticize me! It’s not my fault they wouldn’t go away. I’m doing my part to help Red, just like the rest of you.”

  “Well, be more observant next time,” Maddox said curtly. “You’re going to get a reputation as a flirt.”

  Izzy’s jaw dropped as she let out a gasp.

  “Maddox, really,” Jake chided.

  The older boy pivoted away, muttering, “I’m going back to talk to Sapphira.”

  The empath narrowed her eyes. “I have a spotless reputation, as it happens!” she fairly shouted after him, but Maddox huffed off through the crowd.

  “Of course you do,” Jake hastily assured her. “The best.”

  Blimey, Isabelle was the most virtuous person he knew.

  “Just ignore him. You know that’s just Maddox being Maddox. He gives everyone a hard time.”

  “Not like he does me!” She shook her head, her blue eyes blazing with ire. “He really goes out of his way to drive me insane, doesn’t he?”

  “Nah, it just comes naturally. He doesn’t even have to try.”

  She looked at Jake for a second, startled, then a rueful half-smile tilted her lips. She shook her head and sighed, letting the matter go. “Thanks for coming over to get me, coz. I couldn’t seem to extricate myself. I didn’t want to be rude, but those gentlemen wouldn’t stop talking.”