The Black Fortress

by E. G. Foley

  Just then, Ramona heard a distant clamor down the hallway beyond her chamber door. A flurry of running footsteps coming closer.

  Ramona arched a brow, for she had a feeling she knew who it was.

  Her nephew, of course, the young human whirlwind.

  In the next moment, he was pounding on her door.

  “Aunt Ramona! Aunt Ramona!”

  “Come in, Jake!” she called.

  The door burst open at once, and the boy practically tumbled in, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes bright with excitement.

  “We have news!” He held up a notebook with some scrawls on it and ran to her. “Janos contacted Izzy telepathically and gave us the coordinates for where the Black Fortress is right now! He’s there! He said for you to send a rescue party. He’s going to free Red!”

  Jake kept talking a mile a minute while Ramona took the notebook from him and stared at the coordinates.

  “He says it’s somewhere in Scotland.”

  “He contacted Isabelle? Telepathically? From all the way in Scotland?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Oh, this was disturbing news, indeed. Ramona was taken aback. “And where is Isabelle now?”

  “On the way. She’s a bit behind me. She got lightheaded afterward and needed to rest or something. Janos said to get these coordinates to you right away so you could send out a team!”

  “Yes, yes, of course. This is excellent news.” Ramona nodded, setting aside her alarm on her great-great niece’s behalf for the moment.

  Jake seemed ready to burst with excitement. “Finally, this is our chance! Maybe I could go along on the mission—”

  “Jacob Everton!”

  He gave a slight pout. “It was just an idea.”

  “A daft one,” she said archly. “Now, make me three extra copies of those coordinates. We’ll need to distribute them to Sir Peter and others. But, Jake, tell no one else what has occurred. We must keep this to ourselves for now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake tore a fresh piece of paper out of his notebook, ripped it into thirds, then copied down the coordinates onto each piece.

  Ramona opened the door of her chamber and saw Isabelle hurrying up the hallway.

  “Aunt Ramona!” the girl called.

  “Come, dear.” Ramona beckoned to her. “Jake’s already here.”

  As Isabelle walked swiftly toward her doorway, Ramona could not deny she was a doting aunt when it came to her little Izzy. Nor could she help noticing with fond pride what a lovely young woman her niece was growing up into, with her cascading golden tresses, china-blue eyes, creamy skin, and delicate features.

  She would cause a sensation in London at her debut this spring, Ramona thought. How the quiet girl would hate all the attention!

  Any other young miss with her beauty surely would have been vain, but not Isabelle. She was too busy struggling against what she counted as her own flaws.

  In the eyes of the world, the sensitivity that made her a powerful empath resembled weakness. But it was not. It was strength, of no ordinary kind. The strength of goodness, of softness. The unexpected might of love itself. And to be sure, Isabelle wielded that power in full force when confronted with real darkness.

  This was why she’d been chosen as a Keeper of the Unicorns.

  And yet in ordinary life, Ramona feared the girl’s trusting nature, her innocent faith in the goodness of others—and her beauty—all made her vulnerable to…unsavory characters. She bristled with protectiveness of her favorite as Izzy closed the distance between them.

  A moment later, Ramona had shooed the girl safely into her room, where Jake was just finishing up his copies of the coordinates.

  Ramona laid a hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “Jake told me what happened. Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m better now, thank you, aunt.”

  “I could conjure up some ginger ale—”

  “No, no, I’m fine, really. Never mind me.” She smiled, and Ramona detected a particular breathlessness about her. “What about this new information? Will you send a team, Aunt Ramona, as Janos has asked?”

  “Of course she will.” Jake looked over and straightened up from the table. “Won’t you?”

  Ramona hesitated, studying her niece. “Did you sense any deception from Janos, my dear?”

  Izzy seemed taken aback at the question. “Why, no, aunt. Of course not. I know he was telling the truth!”

  “Did he say what he was doing there?”

  “No, but he was nervous. He said they were watching him. We only communicated for a few minutes.”

  “I see.” Ramona nodded, her mind churning. It did not seem like a trap.

  “Aunt Ramona, Janos wouldn’t lie about something like this,” Izzy said.

  “He saved my life,” Jake reminded the Elder witch.

  “Very well.” Ramona nodded at Jake. “Take a copy of the coordinates to Guardian Stone straightaway. Tell him everything you’ve told me, and that I said he’s authorized to begin forming a strike team.”

  Jake paled, taking a sudden step toward her. “But ma’am—you can’t send Derek, surely. He just got free of the Dark Druids—they tortured him! There must be someone else you can send. Why not Master Ebrahim—”

  “Are you going to question everything I do?” Ramona asked him sharply. “Whether Derek feels ready to go on the mission or not is entirely up to him. But I want him at least to plan the thing—and I want the team underway within the hour if possible. Now, go!”

  Jake lowered his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Wait.” Isabelle halted her cousin. “Whoever is chosen for the team, be it Derek or someone else, they cannot undertake this mission until nightfall.”

  “Why?” Ramona turned to her.

  “Because, otherwise, Janos won’t be able to leave with them. He’s a vampire, remember? He can only go outside when it’s dark. If sunlight touches him, he’ll die. If the team goes by daylight, Janos will be stuck in the Black Fortress. They can’t leave him behind. Once the team arrives, the Dark Druids will know he’s the one behind this. They will punish him worse than they did Derek.”

  “She’s right, aunt,” Jake said with a firm nod. “The team can’t leave Janos behind. Not when he’s risking himself for us like this.”

  “Quite right.” Ramona nodded reluctantly. “Very well. You may go, Jake. Tell Derek all of this, and then do whatever he asks of you. He may have further errands for you to help in this matter.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake looked relieved, finally having specific actions he could take in the effort to get Red back safely.

  “What can I do, Aunt Ramona?” Izzy turned to her as Jake dashed off to find Derek. “Who else needs to be notified? Sir Peter? Finderool? I could take the coordinates to any—”

  “In a moment, dear.” When the door had closed behind Jake, Ramona stared hard at her niece.

  Izzy’s soulful eyes filled with worry. “Is something wrong, aunt?”

  Ramona laid a hand on her shoulder. “Darling, I want to ask you a question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Has Janos ever contacted you like this before?”

  “No. Well—” She began blushing. “He did, but it wasn’t his fault. I tried to probe his emotions once, and he scolded me for it. T-telepathically.”

  “I see.” Ramona pursed her lips. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

  Isabelle turned bright red.

  “And charming…?”

  “It does not signify, aunt. Prince Janos is married. And a vampire.”

  “Precisely,” Ramona told her in a stern tone.

  Yet Izzy’s blue eyes flickered with a rare show of defiance. “But just because he is—one of the undead doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, does it? He is trying to help us. He’s risking his life! I believe in him.”

  “Yes,” Ramona said. “That’s what worries me.”

  Izzy frowned. “People should give him a chance.”

  “We’ll see.�
�

  Be careful, child, Ramona thought.

  “Do you want me to take the coordinates to Sir Peter and Finnderool?” Izzy asked, shifting her weight with an air of impatience.

  “Yes, go on. There. Jake made copies.” Ramona gestured wearily at the slips of paper on the table. “But leave one for me. You may go.”

  Izzy collected the two extra slips, leaving the original for Ramona. Then she strode toward the door, pausing to give her doting old aunt a quick kiss on the cheek before bustling out to see to her task.

  When her niece had gone, Ramona drifted over to the window and gazed down at the lawn for a long moment.

  She could not deny she was a little shaken by the news of this uncanny connection between Janos and her darling Isabelle.

  Maybe it was nothing, but it made her uneasy.

  Or perhaps it was simply that she, herself, as a girl had shared a similar bond with a dangerous young man who had ultimately chosen the path of darkness.

  Geoffrey.

  Ramona cast a guilty glance toward her crystal ball, bound to him still. Heaven forbid that my sweet girl should ever make the same mistake.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Woman in the Walls

  Janos felt better once he’d got the information out to the Order. Talking to Isabelle had also lifted his spirits with a pointed reminder of why he was doing this in the first place.

  Now all he had to do was escape from his room, find out where the Dark Druids were keeping the Gryphon, come up with a way of rescuing the creature, learn whatever he could about the fates of poor Ravyn and Tex, and try to puzzle out what the Dark Druids were up to on this craggy Scottish beach.

  Am I forgetting anything? he thought wryly.

  Ah well. At least the first part was easy. With a smirk for the fools who had thought that some silly locked door could contain him, Janos dissolved into his black smoke form, then drifted out of the guestroom with ease, filtering underneath the crack in the door, silent as a vapor.

  Since nearly everything was black here, it was easy to float down the hallway undetected. After all, vampires might be bloodsucking liars, but even the Elder witch would’ve admitted that they made excellent spies.

  Gliding through the cold, echoing corridors of the Black Fortress in his smoke form, Janos did his best not to get lost in the onyx labyrinth, but at least in this windowless building, he didn’t have to worry about sunlight hitting him. Really, it was coming up on noon; he wished he was back at home in his coffin having a good day’s sleep.

  He just hoped that Wyvern didn’t have cause to summon him from his guest chamber while he was out snooping around.

  Why had the Nephilim brought the castle here to the edge of the North Sea, anyway? Janos wondered. And where the deuce was Zolond? Hmm.

  His questions faded away, however, when he turned a corner and saw a very bored-looking Gryphon lying in his cage, growling occasionally to himself. The tip of Red’s tufted lion tail tapped slowly with impatient frustration, like a person might drum his fingers.

  Poor boy. After twelve weeks of no flying, Red was probably wondering if his wings still worked.

  Floating closer, Janos assessed the situation. Well, this shouldn’t be too difficult. There weren’t any guards on hand who’d need killing, though a fat iron padlock fastened the cage door. Blast.

  On the bright side, Janos detected no telltale glow of magic on the lock. In his smoke form, he could usually see the aura of magic on an enchanted object or a person under the influence of a spell.

  He was relieved that no such glow surrounded the padlock on Red’s cage. If the lock did not have to be opened with a wand, that meant someone around here must have an ordinary key.

  All right, then, who would Wyvern entrust the key to? Janos zoomed closer.

  Red did not sense him. Janos decided it might be a good idea to let the beast know he was there and that rescue was imminent. That way, the Gryphon would be ready when the time came.

  But just as Janos started filtering back into solid form, a flicker of motion in a dark corner to his right caught his eye.

  He gasped, quickly reversing the process and whooshing back up toward the ceiling. For there, lurking in the corner, keeping guard over the Gryphon, it seemed, was Wyvern’s own horrible pet.

  The manticore that had killed Janos’s best friend, Urso.

  An invisible wisp of vapor near the ceiling, anger filled Janos at the sight of the monster that had impaled his last remaining friend.

  He hungered for revenge, glaring at the beast.

  But, though Janos feared no man, a full-sized lion with a venomous scorpion stinger for a tail did give him pause.

  After all, Urso the big German bear shifter had been a magnificent fighter, but this monstrous beast had laid him low. For all Janos knew, if he battled the manticore and were struck in the heart by that blade-like hook on the end of the creature’s tail, that might be enough to kill even a vampire.

  Then his mission would fail. And the Guardian team were on their way.

  There was also the small fact that Janos had no weapon at the moment.

  Wyvern had forbidden him from bringing one. Ah, how he wished he had his darkling blade.

  It was the one tool that could change with him from smoke form to solid and back again, the one weapon capable of skewering dark spirits. Yet for all their effectiveness, darkling blades were but a cheap imitation of the swords the Light Beings carried, known as brightwields.

  A brightwield could kill just about anything, but they were very rare, and rumor had it only certain individuals could use them.

  Janos would’ve been glad for even the most ordinary sword at that moment, staring down with hatred at the manticore.

  It was lying idly on its belly, licking its front paw like an ordinary lion.

  The thing was huge. Its tawny body was a little bigger than Red’s, but the segmented scorpion tail gave the beast a long and deadly reach.

  Janos hissed a mental curse. Unfortunately, even if he had a weapon to fight with, this was not the sort of beast he could battle quietly.

  Nor was revenge on the menu, frankly. He seethed at the fact, but killing the manticore was not why he was here.

  Remember your mission. Lesson one to baby Guardians like Stick. The same mantra had been drilled into Janos’s head, too, in his day.

  His primary task was freeing Red.

  He forced himself back to it. Scanning the area once more, his gaze was drawn back to the manticore—and suddenly, Janos spotted the key!

  To his utter dismay, it was hanging on a leather strap around the manticore’s neck. His heart sank. Eh, why me?

  Realizing the pickle he was in had just gotten rather more sour, Janos retreated for now. He could do nothing until he got his hands on some weapons.

  With grim resolve, he left Red behind for the time being and began searching the surrounding hallways and rooms in his vapor form, peeking into open-doored rooms. Finding nothing of interest, he wafted down a set of black stairs and continued his perusal of the place on the next floor down.

  The Black Fortress had about ten floors, and he supposed he should get a look at them all. He pressed on, finding a few rooms of note, but nothing hugely helpful.

  For example, he came across the fabled star chamber, with a pentagram hewn into the floor. This was where those who had displeased the Dark Druid Council were summoned to be judged.

  Floating on, he eventually happened upon an indoor swamp sort of room, with a pond and a tangle of low palm trees growing all around. It was unnaturally warm and humid there, heated by he knew not what, and dimly lit around the edges by strange, glowing rocks. Crickets sang inside the long, rectangular chamber and dragonflies buzzed above the water, which bubbled here and there on occasion.

  Janos was baffled. Then he deduced that this habitat must’ve been specially set up for the enjoyment of Zolond’s royal reptilians, but, of course, they weren’t there at the moment. He still wondered where t
hey’d all gone.

  Continuing on his way, Janos found nothing either interesting or helpful, until, finally, in a dark corner of the same lower floor that housed Wyvern’s chariot and the Orange Ruffed Darter, he came across what appeared to be a guardroom.

  It certainly smelled of Noxu.

  Still in vapor form, he went closer, carefully gliding in to take a look around.

  There were worktables for cleaning weapons, lockers where the guards could keep their things. Wooden racks here and there for storing weapons, wall pegs for hanging bits of armor.

  There were long benches, too, and on one of these, Janos spotted a lonely Noxu mercenary picking his toenails.

  Charming.

  He made short work of the creature, materializing behind it and snapping its neck with elegant precision before the brute even knew he was there.

  Janos caught the heavy body as it fell, laying it down quietly. Then he helped himself to the creature’s large, serrated dagger.

  He frowned at the weapon. It was heavy and awkward, lacking all finesse. Not his style at all, but it would have to do.

  He glanced around at the guardroom and realized one of those long Noxu halberds leaning in the rack might be very helpful with the manticore.

  It would allow him to strike the monster while keeping him out of reach of that venomous tail. He helped himself to one of those, too. Then he saw another toy—and his eyes flared with delight.

  You, he mentally told the crossbow. You’re coming with me.

  Stalking across the guardroom, he slung it across his back, along with a nearby quiver of arrows. He helped himself to a knife belt and sheathed the blade he had borrowed.

  Then he stood up straight, pleased with his plunder. Time to go. He had located the Gryphon. His next task was to figure out what had happened to his former teammate.

  Good ol’ Ravyn Vambrace.

  Ah, back in the old days, she could drink half of the barracks under the table, and once—once only—she had beaten Derek himself in an arm-wrestling match. She had never let him live it down.