by T.A. Barron
As the voices swelled, so did my confusion—and my certainty that whatever chance I might have to save Hallia was rapidly slipping away. If only one of the tunnels could take me back, I must somehow decide which one to follow. And I must decide soon.
To my horror, the tunnels themselves started to move—to glide higher or lower in the surrounding vapors, to slip sideways, or to dance erratically. Swiftly, the faces’ motions accelerated. At the same time, they pleaded, cajoled, and commanded more desperately. I could hardly keep track of which face was saying what, let alone choose the right one.
Amidst the swelling cacophony, I heard another voice, from somewhere deep in my memory: the voice of my elder self. Only you can find the way, he had said. Only you. But which way was I to find? Which way—and which me?
The faces danced more wildly. Now many of them were only a blur of motion and sound. You might, urged the voice of the old mage, simply start being. Being what, though? My mind raced. What had he told me that he hoped, above all, to impart to young Arthur? Find your true self, he had said. Yes—and with it, your true image. Then you shall tap into the greater good, the higher power that breathes life into all things.
My true self. My true image. But which one, of all the images swarming around me, was true? Perhaps some or all of them were partly true—but which one was the right choice? The right reflection?
The tunnels, and the faces within them, began to recede, pulling back into the curls of mist. Even as the cries grew more shrill, they began to fade slowly away. I could hardly hear some of them now; others I could still hear, but barely see for the encroaching vapors. Only a few seconds, at most, remained before all of them vanished.
The right reflection. What was a reflection, anyway? An image, a shape, thrust back at my vision. But was I out there, the face in the mirror—or was that something else, something other than me? The nature of mirrors, after all, was not to show the actual form. The true self. Just as my shadow, shrunken and disobedient, was not the true me, no reflected image could be my true self.
And yet. . . my shadow was different, at least in one respect. It was, for better or worse, tied to me, just as my elder self’s own shadow was tied to him. Unlike a face in a mirror, which would vanish if the mirror were taken away, my shadow was part of my being, a lifelong companion. Yes, as much as I hated to admit it, my shadow belonged to me, and I to it.
In a flash, I understood. The mirror I needed to find, the face I needed to see, was not one of the reflections circling around me now. Nor was it outside of me at all. Rather, it was somewhere within me—in the deepest marsh, the darkest place, of my own being. In a place where daylight never reached, a place where body and shadow merged into one.
The faces, and their voices, suddenly disappeared. A wave of mist toppled over me, enveloping me completely. Down, down, down, it bore me, into a vaporous tunnel of its own. Deeper into the folds of mist I fell, powerless to stop my descent. As the air around me darkened, I knew only that my choice had been made. And that wherever I was falling, my shadow was falling with me.
26: A TEST OF LOYALTIES
The darkness thickened, hardening into cold, crushing weight that pressed upon me from all sides. My bones, my every vein, cried out in torment. Then, all at once, the pressure released. The light returned. A sudden shattering—and then something smacked beside my head. A split second later, a wooden spear bounced off the stone pillar behind me, its shaft slapping my temple. Disoriented, I stumbled forward, almost falling into a reeking pool.
The marsh! I had returned. Rubbing my head, I glanced at the archway and the Mirror it contained. Clouds of mist swirled beneath the shifting surface, just as they had for uncounted ages.
“Hallia!” I cried. “Where—” Before I knew what was happening, a three-fingered hand grabbed me by the throat and threw me backward. I landed, splattering bogwater in every direction.
Rolling over in the mire, I found myself staring up at a muscular assailant. His thin eyes glinted from under his pointed helmet, while a breastplate covered most of his chest. Perspiration ran in streams down the gray-green skin of his arms. A warrior goblin! Where, I wondered, could he have come from? The warrior goblins who had survived the collapse of the Shrouded Castle now lived in hiding, scattered in the remotest corners of the land. They wouldn’t show themselves—unless, I realized with dismay, someone had offered to protect them in exchange for their services. Someone truly wicked.
“Here’s another,” rasped the goblin, kicking me hard in the ribs as he raised his broadsword.
Clutching my side, I couldn’t draw my own sword. I spun, barely dodging his blade as it plunged into the mud. Before he could lift it again, I seized the base of my staff and swung. The handle smashed into his head, knocking off his helmet. He roared, tumbling into the marsh grass, where he lay motionless.
Dazed, I struggled to my feet, pressing my hand against my throbbing ribs. All of a sudden, I caught the smell. Sweet, overpoweringly sweet, it filled my lungs even as it assaulted them. I shuddered, as if a terrible vise were closing on me. For I recognized the scent at once: the scent of rose blossoms.
“Well, well, so you’ve decided to show yourself at last.” Nimue’s cold, humorless voice struck harder than the goblin’s kick.
“Where are you?” I called into the swamp vapors encircling the arch. “Where is Hallia?”
The disembodied voice continued without pause. “You gave me such a fright, you infant wizard. I had started to worry that you had tried to follow that foolish servant boy into the Mirror.”
I almost responded—then caught myself.
“You would have shortened your life immeasurably, hmmm? And thereby robbed me of the pleasure of doing so myself.” She gave a long, low growl. “That Mirror, one day, will also feel my wrath! For while I survived my own voyage through its misty corridors in coming here, I can still feel the scars. And I have no desire at all to reopen them—until the rest of my powers, which you so callously wrested away from me, are restored. Nay, enhanced! So I have decided to remain on your lovely little island for a while, to gather my strength, plus a few precious trinkets. Hmmm, yes, such as your staff.”
Still peering into the vapors, I squeezed the wooden shaft all the harder.
Nimue chortled to herself. “All of that, though, is beside the point. The fact is, I do so enjoy solving problems. Especially several centuries in advance. So I think that I shall solve you, little wizard. Here and now.”
With that, she materialized out of the air before me. Her white robe, immaculate as ever, billowed about her, while her lightless eyes scrutinized me. Flanking her, with swords drawn, stood eight or nine warrior goblins. And at her feet, flopped in the mud, lay a young woman’s still form.
“Hallia!” I cried. “What have you done to her?”
Nimue puckered her lips, imitating a kiss. “Ever the soft heart.” She plucked a small burr off her sleeve. “Worry not, she remains alive. For now, at least. I was saving her final throes of agony for you to witness.” She nodded to the nearest warrior goblin. “Remove her head, hmmm? I want a ragged, unclean cut.”
“No!”
The goblin, wheezing in laughter, clasped his sword with both hands. His burly arms flexed. In one sharp motion, he lifted the blade high over his head. Then, with all his might, he brought it down on Hallia.
In that instant, a new power surged down my arms. I had no idea what it was, nor where it came from, only that it flew through me with the speed of a diving hawk—and that it seemed to flow from every part of me, body and soul, working in unison as they had never done before. Without any time to think, I raised both of my arms, pointing one at the warrior goblin and one at Nimue.
A sudden sizzling rent the air. Bolts of blue lightening shot out from my fingers. One struck the warrior goblin in the chest just before his weapon made contact. His breastplate ripped apart; with a burst of blue light, he and his sword flew backward. The other bolt of lightning blasted toward the s
orceress—and stopped abruptly at her outstretched hand. For a split second she held it in place. Then she carelessly waved her palm in my direction. The bolt flashed back through the air, straight at me. I ducked as it passed just over my head, slicing the corner off one of the rough-hewn pillars. The vines rimming the stone withered into ashes.
Nimue eyed me, seeming only mildly perturbed. “Is that the best you can do, puny one? Hmmm, such a pity. You won’t be getting the time you need to learn how to do better.”
Incensed, I rushed toward her, brandishing my staff. She merely puffed a single breath. A massive wall of air crashed into me, hurling me into a thicket of moss-draped brambles. I skidded through the branches, colliding with the trunk of a dead willow at the edge of a pool. Broken limbs rained down on me as I slumped into the bog.
Weakly, I raised my head. Nimue waved at a pair of warrior goblins and barked her command: “Dispense with the deer woman, however you choose.” She strode toward me, smirking. “But leave this one to me.”
I saw a pair of swords lifting. All at once, Nimue’s head and flowing black hair obscured my view. Her smile widened steadily as she approached. Groping, I braced myself against the tree, forcing my wobbly legs to stand. Without warning, my boots slid out from under me and I splashed again into the pool.
“Poor fellow,” she cooed, now only a few paces distant. “Allow me to end your discomfort.”
I managed to kneel in the muck. Thick ooze slid down my neck and arms. But I held my voice firm. “You’ll never win. Never.”
Her eyes narrowed cruelly. Slowly, she raised one arm. Her finger, curved slightly, pointed at my chest. “Ah, my little wizard, you are wrong, very wrong. I have already won.” A cackle bubbled up from her throat. “And isn’t it a lovely irony, hmmm, that I have won by mastering the very spells that you—in your older form—taught me?”
Her finger straightened. “Your time has—”
Slam. An enormous shape, larger than a boulder, dropped out of the sky. It struck the ground right behind Nimue, sending an explosion of mud and debris in all directions. With a shriek, she tumbled headlong into me. A wave of grime washed over us both.
Pulling my head from the mire, I glimpsed Nimue, dripping with the dark juices of the swamp. She cursed viciously as she fought to extract herself. Suddenly I saw the gargantuan head that hovered over us. A triangular eye, glowing orange, stared down at me. Purple and scarlet scales covered the entire face—except for the long blue ear that protruded like a windblown banner.
“Gwynnia!” Wrapping my arm around her immense nose, I pressed my face against her own. Then I pointed toward the warrior goblins, many of whom had also been knocked off their feet. “Now get Hallia! Over there.”
With a thunderous snarl, she whirled about. Her tail snapped like a whip before smashing into the warrior goblin nearest to Hallia’s motionless form. The goblin sailed straight at the Mirror. All at once, its surface flattened, gleaming darkly. Like a bottomless hole in the terrain of time, it swallowed the goblin completely. Even before the sound of shattering died away, the surface contorted again, churning with clouds as before.
The dragon’s gangly neck, meanwhile, stretched over to Hallia. Whimpering, Gwynnia nudged her friend’s body with the tip of her nose, while her leathery wings fluttered anxiously against her back. But Hallia did not move, or make any sound.
I stumbled out of the pool. Retrieving my staff, I glanced back at Nimue. She was yanking at clumps of mud and sticks that had stuck to her hair, and pulling out her own hair in the bargain. Seeing me, she shrieked in rage and swung her arm wildly. A blazing ball, searing the air like molten lava, appeared in her hand. With the cry, “Death by fire, you upstart wizard!” she reared back and hurled it at me.
The scars on my cheeks stung from the heat as the fireball whizzed toward me. I had only enough time to raise my staff, sending into it whatever power I could muster in the hope that it might shield me. At the moment of impact, jagged fingers of lightning erupted from the staff’s head. They collided with the flaming ball, deflecting it into a nearby mound of peat. A roaring wall of fire flew upward, consuming all the reeds, moss, and broken roots on the spot.
Gwynnia, sensing no movement from Hallia, bellowed in anguish. Her tongue, as slender as one of her claws and dark purple in color, gently lapped the face of her friend. Hallia’s arm seemed to stir, then fell back. Whether it had lifted on its own accord, I couldn’t tell.
“Warriors!” shouted Nimue. She strode from the pool, still pulling at her tangled hair. “Kill them all. Now, I say!”
Roaring angrily, the goblins descended on us. Wielding heavy spears, swords, and axes, several of them charged at Gwynnia. Two more threw themselves at me. It was all I could do to stay out of reach of their deadly blades, while trying to edge closer to Hallia. On one side, I saw Gwynnia’s tail lashing the air, trying to protect our fallen companion from the attackers. On the other side, Nimue prepared to throw another blazing fireball at me.
Swords slashed just over my head; spears plunged into the muck by my boots. Now I was backed against the scorched pillar of the archway. For a split second I considered diving into the mists and saving myself—yet I couldn’t leave Hallia behind. As Nimue’s laughter rose above the din, a huge warrior goblin wearing a red armband above his elbow confronted me. He gave a harsh, wheezing grunt and swung both of his battle-axes at my head.
Instead of ducking, I did the one thing he least expected: I braced my foot against the pillar and sprung at him. My chest rammed into his shoulder, breaking off an armor plate. One of his axes struck the pillar. Sparks flew into the air. His second ax buried itself in another warrior’s back. Meanwhile, I rolled helplessly through the marsh grass.
Finally, I came to a stop. Though my head was spinning, I realized that I was almost underneath the dragon’s tail. The shadow of its barbed tip passed over me as she swung at one of our assailants. I didn’t watch more of her battling, however, for my attention turned to the limp form nearby. I crawled to Hallia’s side and lifted her head toward my own.
“Hallia . . .”
Feebly, she opened her eyes. My heart leaped to see those deep pools of brown, and the fire within them, once again. But the fire burned weakly, faltering. A few seconds later, her eyes closed once again. I poured all the strength I could summon down my arms, through my hands, and into her. Flow, my power! Bring her back to me!
I waited for her to stir, to draw even one halting breath, but nothing happened. Desperately, I shook her by the shoulders. Still nothing. She lay there, as still as my own frozen heart.
Suddenly she quivered, gasping for air. Her eyes reopened. “Young hawk,” she said hoarsely. “You’re back.”
Even as I started to reply, Nimue’s voice shook the swamp. “Die, all of you!”
Hallia, seeing the sorceress take aim with her blazing fireball, clutched my arm. At the same time, I caught sight of a dreadful look on Gwynnia’s face: a look of fear. Surrounded by warrior goblins, she was no longer able to hold them at bay. They pressed closer by the second. Their weapons hammered against the scales of her back, slashed at her eyes, and probed at her heaving belly. In a few more seconds, she would surely fall.
Nimue’s arm uncoiled. The fireball, glowing bright, flew out of her hand. Spitting flames, it bore down on us. Closer and closer it came. Having no staff this time to ward off the blow, I tried to shield Hallia’s body with my own.
At that instant, something shot out of the vapors. It sliced through the air, leaving a thin trail of darkness. When it collided with the ball of flames, right before our faces, there was a sudden woomppf—and the fireball vanished.
Nimue, her mouth agape, glared at the spot. Her warrior goblins, too, sensed something was wrong. Though they still brandished their weapons, they faltered, looking worriedly at one another. Two of them stepped back, moving away from the dragon. At that moment, dozens of figures emerged from the surrounding swamp, encircling us with their shadowy forms.
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br /> Marsh ghouls! Most of them could be seen only as vague, shimmering shapes, or as flickering eyes that floated in the vapors. Yet they couldn’t be missed. Many of them held hefty bows nocked with coal-black arrows. Arrows that could pierce through the day.
The immense goblin with the red armbands growled fiercely. He stepped toward the nearest marsh ghouls, swinging a battle-ax over his head. Instantly three arrows, trailing ribbons of darkness, plunged through his chest. He fell face first into the muck, and did not move again.
Quaking with rage, Nimue strode toward the line of marksmen. On silent command, a large number of them shifted, aiming their arrows straight at her. She went rigid, glowering at them. Fighting to contain her wrath, she adjusted her silver-threaded shawl about her shoulders. At last, she said in a strained voice, “Now, now, my old friends. You wouldn’t think of bringing harm to me, would you?”
In answer, the marsh ghouls drew back their bowstrings. Nimue’s face, already pale, went whiter still. After a tense moment, she addressed them again, abandoning any pretense of alliance.
“You really think I am so easily defeated?” she ranted, clenching both of her fists. “You will pay for this treachery, ah yes, with many lifetimes’ worth of pain! Just wait until my powers are fully restored to me! Those chains you wore before will seem a delight compared to what torments I shall heap on you.”
A few of the marsh ghouls seemed to waver; two or three of them lowered their bows. But the rest remained in place, their arrows nocked, facing the sorceress squarely. What no one had noticed, though, was that during her diatribe, she had slowly raised her hand, pointing it at the spot where Hallia and I sat on the ground. All of a sudden I noticed a reddish glow appearing at the tip of her outstretched finger.
“Beware!” I shouted. “She’s going to attack us!”
“Too late, you nursling wizard,” she spat back without turning from the line of marsh ghouls. “Now, my former allies, we shall test your loyalties. Shall we, hmmm? Hear my terms, for I shall offer them only once: Drop your weapons now, and I shall harm you no further. You have my word on that. My only prize will be the lives of these two assassins who have done me so much harm.”
