The Black Fortress

by E. G. Foley

  It all sounded so exciting—and that was only the first two weeks!

  When week three started, a momentous event took place, one she didn’t even tell Jake for fear of making him jealous.

  Dani and all the other Lightrider students were each presented with a training gauntlet, jokingly referred to as the Bud of Life—in contrast to the true Flower of Life implant that adult Lightriders had surgically embedded in their wrists.

  For the kids, it was just a brown leather cuff that ran from their left wrists halfway up their forearms.

  The Bud of Life had a compass and a communication device built into it somehow, plus six dials for entering in coordinates, with two small switches for the four cardinal directions: north/south and east/west. A small brass button at the end of the line of dials and switches read Activate.

  Three leather straps with brass buckles fastened it in place, and it came with two rules, which, if you broke them, could get you thrown out of the program.

  One, they were not to take the Bud off at any time without permission, and two, even more importantly, they were not to get it wet or it would break.

  They spent all week trying to get used to wearing them. But, as big a development as this was, it wasn’t all that happened in week three.

  So did the start of afternoon group work.

  That was when Finnderool had brought in the new crop of Guardians to work with them. Their teacher was a master Guardian like Derek, called Ebrahim.

  He was a jolly, muscle-bound black man of about fifty who was rumored to be quite fearless. No doubt it was true. Big as he was, Master Ebrahim didn’t need to be afraid of much, Dani guessed.

  The towering, mocha-skinned man led a line of eight wide-eyed Guardian recruits into their class the next day like a trail of baby ducks.

  Then the two groups were told to partner up.

  “Get used to working together.” Finnderool explained that on every mission, a team of three or more was sent. The team always included the Lightrider, the Guardian, and the VIP, whom Finnderool termed the conductee.

  “The Lightrider escorts the diplomat or dignitary through the Grid. You’re in charge of transportation, among other things. The Guardian is on protective duty, but you Lightriders will also be required to learn basic self-defense and survival skills. It’s important to have at least some overlap in capabilities within the team.

  “As for your conductees,” he said, “it won’t always be the same person. In fact, quite the contrary. It just depends on the mission.”

  The class nodded, jotting down notes.

  Master Ebrahim then addressed the group: “My Guardians, you will be responsible for keeping your Lightrider and conductee safe. You should always be scanning. Watchful. Any threat arises, you want to sense it with your heightened instincts before it shows its ugly face. Avoid it if you can. We don’t want to scare our conductees. Let’s be honest.” He sent Finnderool a mischievous glance, his dark eyes twinkling. “They’re usually pampered aristocrats who aren’t very good in a crisis.”

  Finnderool conceded this with a shrug.

  “That means it’s up to you to be prepared for any sort of threat that might arise,” the towering Guardian continued. “However, you must work within the parameters your Lightrider sets for the mission, because he or she is the one who’ll have researched the place. Now then, starting next week, Master Finnderool and I will have a special…surprise for you.”

  All sixteen kids talked excitedly at lunch that day what the surprise of week four could possibly be, but nobody knew.

  Dani could hardly wait.

  CHAPTER 34

  Many Happy Returns

  Nixie Valentine was not a sentimental person, despite her last name. She did not believe in all that drippy hearts-and-flowers stuff. She enjoyed gloomy days, liked to dress in black, and was generally against the color pink.

  A hardheaded cynic with a hard-shelled exterior, she would never be the sort to wear her heart on her sleeve, à la Isabelle.

  But she was the sort of person who never forgot a kindness, and aside from Archie Bradford (she missed him dreadfully, the egghead), no one had been kinder to her than the famed Elder witch.

  And so, when the appropriate day came, exactly three weeks after the gang split up, Nixie worked up her courage to bring her intimidating mentor a cupcake for her birthday. Atop it she placed an unlit magical candle that she had made herself.

  As she slowly carried it on a plate down the hallway toward Lady Bradford’s apartments, she mulled over her private concerns about the Elder witch lately.

  Something was definitely going on.

  Nixie would never dare to pry into Her Ladyship’s business, but she was really starting to worry about her.

  Lady Bradford had been acting rather strange ever since that battle four months ago. Spending too much time alone in her chambers. Keeping odd hours.

  Why, Nixie could almost smell the secrets swirling in the air where her aged mentor was concerned.

  Of course, as a mere apprentice, she was not at liberty to share her concerns about the powerful old woman with anyone, not even Arch.

  As much as she adored him, the boy genius could not keep a secret any more than he could tell a lie, and Nixie knew instinctively that whatever Ramona Bradford was up to, she did not want anyone knowing about it. Dame Oriel was the only one she seemed inclined to take into her confidence.

  Well, whatever was causing her mentor to act so furtive and distracted lately, Nixie only wanted to help. And even though she had heard the Elder witch say she had no desire to celebrate yet another birthday, Nixie owed Her Ladyship too much to ignore the occasion.

  That was how she found herself outside Lady Bradford’s door that day, cupcake in hand. She shifted the plate into one hand and knocked with the other.

  “Who’s there?” the Elder witch called.

  “It’s me, ma’am,” Nixie said loudly through the door.

  It opened promptly, and Nixie lifted the cupcake with a hapless smile, suddenly feeling stupid.

  “Happy birthday!” she said nevertheless.

  Her momentary awkwardness melted as Lady Bradford’s bony face softened with a modest smile. “Oh, my dear. Tut, tut, you shouldn’t have.”

  “No, ma’am, I had to,” Nixie blurted out earnestly. “I’m sorry—I know you didn’t want anyone to make a fuss. But it’s just one cupcake, and after all you’ve done for me, I had to let you know how grateful I am, f-for everything.” She held out her offering. “Many happy returns, ma’am.”

  Ramona accepted the plate with a fond look. “Well, thank you, Miss Valentine. You’re very thoughtful.”

  Nixie nodded self-consciously, blushing. Having made her delivery, she started to turn away.

  “Well, don’t you want to share it with me?” the old woman asked.

  Nixie spun around, giving in to a grin as Lady Bradford opened the door to her sitting room wider. “It’s all for you, ma’am! But I’ll keep you company while you eat it.”

  “Nonsense. It’s too big for one old lady. Come in, sit down. I’ll get some forks.”

  Nixie was awed by this rare invitation from an Elder.

  Feeling entirely honored, she went in and closed the door behind her, taking a discreet glance around at her mentor’s rooms, while Lady Bradford marched the cupcake over to the table and set it down near her magnificent white crystal ball.

  Nixie ogled the marvelous orb of rare white quartz perched atop its ornate silver stand.

  “Oh, dear me.” Lady Bradford turned to her expectantly, propping a hand on her waist. “I can’t seem to find any extra plates. Would you mind doing the honors, hmm?”

  The Elder witch was obviously fibbing, but Nixie beamed at the chance to show off her skills.

  “Gladly.” She focused her mind for a second, imagining the table set as nice and pretty and refined as Ramona’s favorite, Isabelle, would make it. Then she snapped her fingers.“Parare mensamque!”

 
With a twinkle of magic, two dainty place settings appeared: little painted dessert plates of fine china with matching teacups and all the necessary silver.

  Lady Bradford glanced at her with pride. “Well done,” she said, clearly amused. She gestured to the chairs. “Shall we sit?”

  “First you have to blow out your candle so you can make a wish. I’ll light it for you.”

  “Hmm. Very well.” Lady Bradford humored her by taking her seat at the small round table. She pushed her crystal ball farther to the side to make room for their tea party.

  Nixie remained standing and took out her wand.

  She could feel her cheeks heating with a blush over the magic she’d put into the candle. She hoped Her Ladyship wouldn’t find it stupid.

  Again, she had simply tried to think of what Isabelle would do. Mainly, she just hoped the silly thing worked once she lit the wick.

  With the guest of honor seated and ready to blow out the candle, Nixie lit the wick with a tap of her wand and a simple in flamma spell.

  As a seemingly ordinary flame leaped to life atop the candle, Nixie realized that, customarily, next came the singing. But she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Certainly not as a solo. Instead, she just smiled and said, “Happy birthday, Lady Bradford.”

  “Thank you very much, my dear.” Looking intrigued, the Elder witch leaned forward and blew out the candle—almost.

  Instead of vanishing, the little flame atop the wick began to spark.

  Lady Bradford sat up straight, her pewter eyebrows arching. The sparks shot higher over the cupcake, began changing colors, and turned into a miniature fireworks display.

  Nixie held her breath; it was working! Lady Bradford watched the display with a smile.

  But Nixie knew full well that that would hardly begin to impress an Elder witch.

  Next, the colorful bursts of sparkling fireworks turned into artificial butterflies that fluttered all around them, only to transform yet again, this time into colorful confetti that scattered down over the table.

  Lady Bradford clasped her bony hands together in delight, then applauded. “How charming!”

  When the Elder witch laughed, Nixie knew she’d done well. Better than expected—in fact, this was the first time she had ever seen Her Ladyship laugh.

  “Oh my goodness, this is truly sweet of you, my dear. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about the butterflies,” Lady Bradford teased.

  Nixie grinned. “It would wreck my image.”

  The Elder witch chuckled and gestured to the chair across the table from her. “Sit down and let’s eat this thing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Beaming, Nixie took the seat, while the baroness cut the cupcake in half, revealing rich chocolate cake under creamy white icing, with colorful icing flowers all around the edges.

  Lady Bradford served them each a half, then picked up her dessert fork and took the first bite. “Mm, devil’s food cake. My favorite! How did you know?”

  “Isabelle told me. I didn’t make the cupcake, though,” Nixie confessed. “I only ordered it from the kitchens. B-but I believe the pastry chef was a house brownie.”

  “Oh, then it’s sure to be good.”

  Nixie smiled. “What would you like to drink, ma’am? Tea?”

  “Mm, I think a glass of milk sounds just the thing.”

  “Me too.” With a snap of her fingers, Nixie caused two cold glasses of milk to appear.

  Lady Bradford picked hers up. “Cheers.”

  Nixie clinked cups with her. “Cheers, ma’am.”

  Lady Bradford took a sip. “You know, I meant to congratulate you on your role in freeing Aleeyah from her smoke form. I understand it would not have been possible without your lightning generation, and yet, so far, all the credit has gone to Archie.”

  Nixie smiled. “He thought of it. It was easy.”

  “Don’t minimize your own talents, my dear. You are a born weather mage. I know grown witches who wouldn’t have been able to do that. Conjure the lightning? Maybe. But control it? That is another matter, indeed.”

  Nixie was touched yet a little embarrassed by the compliment and wanted to change the subject. She paused, chewing thoughtfully. Then she washed down her bite of delicious cupcake with a sip of milk.

  “So,” Nixie remarked after a moment. “An October birthday. Libra.”

  “Oh, yes. The Scales. Keeping the balance,” the great witch said ruefully.

  There was an indefinable undertone in her voice that hinted at great weariness and maybe even sorrow.

  Nixie hesitated. “Why do you hate your birthday, ma’am?”

  Lady Bradford shrugged. “Too many of them, is all.”

  Nixie leaned closer. “How many?”

  The Elder witch paused, narrowing her eyes. “You really want to know?”

  Nixie nodded.

  “Three hundred and thirty-three,” Lady Bradford announced. “But if you tell a soul, I shall vehemently deny it.”

  Nixie hid her shock, but smiled at the witch’s arch tone. “You must be excited. That is a very powerful number.”

  “Yes. I suppose it is.” Then Lady Bradford smiled. “But it’s a ridiculous number of birthdays.”

  “Why so many? How?” Nixie dared to ask.

  The Elder witch sighed. Her gaze wandered over to her gorgeous crystal ball. She hesitated, as though weighing whether to reveal her story. “Once upon a time, long, long ago,” she finally said, “there was a silly-headed young girl not much older than Isabelle. A budding witch, much like yourself. And, like you, she also had a beau. But as this foolish young witch eventually learned the hard way, her beau was not the sort of truly good man that Archimedes will undoubtedly grow up to be.

  “At seventeen, alas, our naïve little witch didn’t know that yet. She and her beau—a young warlock—adored each other, especially doing magic together.

  “They wanted to combine their talents and use our craft to make the world a better place. But even more than they both loved magic, they were devoted to each other. They thought they would be together forever. So, by using magic, they decided to make it so.”

  Nixie listened in amazement, forgetting all about her cupcake. “How?”

  Lady Bradford took a bite and chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “Have you ever heard of the Montague and Capulet spell?”

  Nixie shook her head.

  “Never do that spell,” Lady Bradford said flatly. “But you wouldn’t. You’re too sensible. The spell is, of course, named after Romeo and Juliet.” Lady Bradford took another bite. “Pair of young dunces.”

  “Those, at least, I’ve heard of,” Nixie murmured.

  “It is a reckless potion, only for two fools in love. It’s based on the same wish that motivated Romeo and Juliet in the play. The same fear that haunts everyone who loves. The desire—the need—never to have to live without the person you love.

  “For some couples, they would consider this a fate worse than death. The Montague and Capulet spell ensures that if one dies, the other dies. Likewise, so long as one lives, the other lives, too.”

  Nixie made a wordless sound of awe at such a drastic working.

  “For a time, our young couple carried on peaceably. But as a few of years passed, the girl’s unfortunate beau became frustrated that all the magic in the world could not seem to fix the ills of mankind.

  “He began bending a few rules. Ignoring safety protocols. Blending spells in unsanctioned ways in an effort to achieve good outcomes. But good can’t be forced on others, you see. It has to be chosen through a person’s own free will.

  “Geoffrey forgot that—or lost patience with it. He began breaking rules outright to try to force his will on the natural world. To make others behave as he felt they should. He made himself the arbiter of right and wrong, and if people wouldn’t choose wisely for themselves, he’d impose it on them through enchantments. Virtually enslaving them.”

  Ramona shook her head. “This set him on the road to becoming a danger
ous tyrant with no respect for others. Such pride starts the rot that soon leads to corruption.”

  Nixie stared at her. “Did he even try to control…the girl?”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Lady Bradford replied with a smile. “He would’ve liked to. But the witch in question has always been extremely strong-minded. Rather like you. Sadly, there was nothing she could do to make him stop or pull him back onto the straight and narrow.

  “Finding success at bending the world to his will, Geoffrey decided that the ends justified the means, in whatever situation. And that is always the first major step into someone turning truly evil.”

  Nixie gulped.

  “And so, the feckless young warlock was eventually deceived into following the left-hand path. He still loved his sweetheart—so he claimed—but he loved the power he was gaining more. She begged him not to pursue the black arts, that it would mean the end of their match. But he didn’t listen. He was obsessed—and quite brilliant, like Archie. There was so much he wanted to do and to learn, but there never seemed to be enough time to take it all in.

  “So, one day, he worked a powerful long-life spell on himself, and the witch was dragged along into it with him, because of the way the Montague and Capulet spell had already bound them together for the duration of their life span on earth.”

  The Elder witch paused. “This impressive old age of mine is Geoffrey’s doing, not mine. In truth, ’tis a curse.”

  “A curse?”

  “Why, yes.” She smiled. “I’ll still be here, you see, when you and Archie and Isabelle and Jake and the others are all old and wrinkled like me. I’ll see you laid to rest in your graves, and I’ll be left to mourn. Just as I’ve mourned the past eight generations.”

  Nixie stared solemnly at her, shocked.

  “If it were up to me, I’d have been content to leave this Earth after, oh, eighty or ninety years. But as long as Geoffrey still employs every spell at his disposal to cheat death, then I have no choice but to go on living too.