by Elena Paige
“There! I have the powers now!” he said.
His mother doubled over in laughter. “Oh my. You thought that wearing the hat would give you the powers? Oh no, dear boy. Wearing the hat is exactly what you’re meant to do to give me your power.
“The hat is forged to me now. It only acts on my command until the day I die.” She pointed her hand toward him. “Abracadabra.” Toby fell to his knees. He felt like his very soul was coming out of his head. He screamed in pain. Feeling everything around him begin to go black, he fought the urge to sleep. He pulled the hat from his head with all his remaining strength, but it felt not only connected to him, but glued to his soul. It wouldn’t come off no matter how hard he pulled at it. Green light surrounded him. He felt its vibration enter his entire body.
He was losing his power. His mother was taking it. As suddenly as the hat had come to life, it lay listlessly on his head. All activity now ceasing, he fell backward, the hat rolling off his head with ease. His mother knelt above him.
“Thank you, Toby. I will use your power well, I promise. And when I get all the other mages’ powers, I will be the only true magician left on the planet. The rest of you can quite happily go about doing illusions for all I care. ”
She picked the hat up and was just about to put it on her head when Toby, with a surge of renewed energy, snatched it from her. Pulling the box from his pocket, he stuck it inside and yelled, “Abracadabra!” for good measure. The hat shrank into the space and disappeared from sight.
His mother only laughed at him. “That will only get you so far. Not a very bright boy, are you?”
Toby ignored her and threw the box toward Rufus. He caught it, made it invisible, and tossed it into the mess on the floor. “You should have picked Rufus’s power to take first. Bad choice mother. You may have our powers, but you won’t take anyone else’s. I’ll make sure of that!”
Toby couldn’t help smiling at Thatch and Wesa. He knew they were watching him.
Agatha turned pale. She moved toward Toby and pushed him. “Find me that hat or I will kill your friends!”
“I won’t!” said Toby, defying her.
Agatha pointed her hands toward the sword only millimetres away from Wesa’s chest. She brought it back towards her then directed it back towards Wesa.
“Stop!” he cried. The sword picked up speed and was heading for Wesa’s heart. Toby felt his adrenaline rising. Without so much as a thought, he moved towards Wesa, pushing her out of the sword’s way. He let out a breath of relief to have saved his friend from harm. But as he felt the sword pierce his chest a second time, he knew this time it was for good. He no longer had his power. This time he would die.
Toby fell to the soft carpet and clutched the sword. He could feel the weight of it through his chest and emerging from his spine. The pain radiated down his feet. His senses dulled. He felt his mother rush toward him. She lifted his head onto her lap. “No! My darling. No! I never meant to hurt you. Why did you do that, you stupid boy?”
Her full focus on Toby, everyone in the room began moving again. Alexander Kirby fell to the floor, and Thatch picked up his sword and ran toward Agatha. Holding the tip of it to her throat, Thatch yelled, “Get away from him. You murderer. Get up!”
Agatha wiped the tears streaking down her face. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love him!” she yelled as if hoping for forgiveness.
“You killed your own son!” Wesa pointed her own sword toward her.
“Please let me say goodbye to him. Please!” she pleaded.
“No! You don’t get to ask that. Now get up! Get away from him,” said Jack as he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. His face was torn with pain.
Elouise ran from the room.
Toby felt his vision blur. He struggled to get the words out, but he wanted it to be the last words she ever heard him speak. “I don’t love you. You’ll live with the memory of killing me forever.” He peered sideways and saw Mr. Kirby looking around the room frantically. Three rats ran around biting at him. Rufus picked up a small table and knocked Alexander Kirby to the ground.
He could hear his mother crying. “No! No! I’m sorry, my darling. I’m sorry.”
This was the end of his heroic journey. He would die on the day he discovered magic. He wished he could see Grandpa one last time to say goodbye .
“You’ve killed your own son,” said Jack, letting her go and going to Toby. He placed Toby’s head gently on his lap.
The curtain moved aside and Grandpa, Walter Brusknutt, Marie Chang, Florence Inkwell, and Abby Inkwell all ran into the room. Behind them was Elouise, followed by Stacy, Aden McDermott’s assistant. Pulling their wands out, they pointed them at Agatha. Abby’s doll floated in midair, looking particularly threatening.
“I’m sorry, Jack. It wasn’t meant to end this way.” She stood up and composed herself. “You will move aside and allow me to pass, or I will be forced to kill you.” She wiped her tears from her face. “I’m sorry, Toby. I do love you. I do!”
“We’re not letting you escape Agatha,” said Grandpa.
Toby gasped for breath as he saw his mother turn into a wasp and buzz close to his head. He followed her with what little eyesight he had left as she flew toward the golden curtain. Nobody tried to stop her. The wasp hesitated, buzzing around the curtain, before it transformed once more. This time it turned into a young girl.
“Iriana?” said Toby, spluttering with pain.
“Glad I helped you get into the convention this morning? Goodbye, my darling. Goodbye forever.” She disappeared behind the curtain, leaving silence and shock behind her.
26
Merlin’s Heirs
“Toby, don’t speak. Lie still.” Grandpa was by his side at last. Toby saw all the friendly faces around him. Thatch and Wesa were holding his hands, and he found his dad’s comforting face.
Jack was crying so hard he was shaking. “There must be something I can do. Some way to give him back his power?”
Toby looked up at him. His dad was so young. His resemblance to him was strong. But Toby now knew he had his mother’s eyes. Green eyes that would pierce his memory forever.
Jack pulled the sword from Toby, flinging it aside. He placed his hands on the wound. “Can’t you do something?” he said to his father.
Toby’s Grandpa kneeled down beside him. “I don’t need to.” Before he could explain, Toby inhaled as though taking his last breath. Wesa and Thatch were both crying uncontrollably.
This is it , thought Toby. This was his last breath. Looking at Grandpa and his father one last time, he felt happy. Happy to have saved the hat. Happy to have met his dad. Happy to have saved Grandpa. Happy to have met new friends and to have discovered magic.
Expecting to faint for the last time, he felt all the pain leave his body. His mind became crystal clear.
“Toby, stand up,” commanded Grandpa. He smiled at Wesa and Thatch. “He’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“He’s been seriously wounded with a sword,” said Thatch.
“Stand back, son,” ordered Walter Brusknutt.
Toby tried to stand up. Everyone gasped. What was happening? He touched his chest, feeling the wound closing up. He was healing despite having lost his power. “How?”
Mrs. Chang, Mr. Brusknutt, and Grandpa each picked up a sword. “Florence Inkwell had instructions to send you these if anything happened to the three of us. The swords are designed to protect you, and by golly, they did their job,” said Matthew, beaming.
“What do you mean, Grandpa?” Toby was still shocked he was alive.
“I think you need to tell them everything,” said Jack, hugging Toby to him.
“We knew someone would come for the hat. When its one-thousand-year protection wore off this year, we knew someone would try.”
Thatch looked at his dad. “But, Dad, how are you part of this?”
“Matthew, Marie, and I are the current protectors of the hat. Thatch . . .” Walter Brusknutt paused a
s red crept up his neck. “I’m a magician. And so are you. I wanted to tell you, but it wasn’t safe. I promised your mother and sister I would keep you hidden.”
Thatch’s mouth hung open. “My mother and sister?”
“I’m your mother,” said Stacy, Aden’s assistant.
“And I’m your sister,” said Elouise, flinging herself onto Thatch.
Thatch fell backward into the armchair. He was speechless, looking from Walter to Elouise and then to Stacy.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I’ve been working for Aden for the last ten years. Undercover. Spying on him.”
“We always suspected him, but we had no idea who he really was,” added Matthew.
Thatch’s expression turned from shock to anger. “All this time you were alive, and you didn’t think it was fair to tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Thatch. It wasn’t up to me. It’s what was best for . . .” Stacy hesitated, looking back at Walter, who embraced her. Together they walked toward Thatch and kneeled down to face him.
“Thatch, I know this is a lot for you to take in, but this is bigger than any of us. We had to protect you. We had to protect the artifacts.”
Elouise stepped forward as everyone else watched in silence. “We’re together now. That’s what matters.” She approached from behind the couch and placed her hands on Thatch’s shoulders reassuringly.
“This is what you always wanted, Thatch, a family. A real family. And now you have one. And you’re a magician! I’m so happy for you,” said Wesa from across the room.
“What I don’t understand is why Wesa could be a magician while I had to be a security boy.” Thatch looked at his dad.
“And why I didn’t even know about this place or world at all,” added Toby.
“It was imperative we keep you apart. Very separate, and completely unrelated. Of course my daughter, being as defiant as she is, still found a way to befriend a security boy,” said Marie Chang, hugging her daughter to her.
“Mother, there’s something I need to tell you.” Wesa looked into the palms of her hands.
“Let me guess. You purposefully ruined your performance again today?” said Marie.
“Yes, but I didn’t mean to this time. There was no oil in the container, and my fireworks couldn’t work without it,” said Wesa.
“I was counting on you to fail today. Such a defiant soul you are, my dear daughter. I couldn’t care less about the Academy. It’s you I needed to keep safe. The more pressure I put on you, the more you hated magic. That was my plan all along.” Marie hugged her daughter to her. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you for so long. You don’t have to go to the Academy. I promise.”
“So you three have been planning this day for a while then?” said Toby, looking from Walter to Marie and finally settling on Grandpa.
“Let’s say we were prepared for a number of scenarios,” said Matthew.
“That still doesn’t explain how I’m not dead,” said Toby, surveying the dried blood all over him.
“Before Aden stuffed us into that horrible box of his, we managed to send a secret message to Florence,” said Matthew.
“Who turned up and tried to stop me from entering the convention,” said Toby. He peered at Mrs. Inkwell shyly.
“That’s right, but your determination was stronger than my magic. And with some inside help, you managed to get in anyway,” scolded Mrs. Inkwell, looking from Jack to Elouise.
“So Elouise was working with Dad to help me get in, while you were working to stop me.”
“Not exactly. We were all working together, but we had different ideas about the right approach.” Jack smiled at Florence Inkwell.
“But why aren’t I dead? She took my power. I felt it. The hat sucked it out of me.”
“No, it didn’t, my boy. When these three swords struck you earlier today, their magic protected you. It protected you all. Their magic is just as powerful as the magic from the Fiordi hat,” said Grandpa.
“So I still have my power too?” said Wesa trying to light her hands with fire and doing a wonderful job of it. She extinguished them quickly, smiling apologetically.
“Yes, exactly. The swords were protecting you all along. They belonged to Merlin. As did the hat,” said Mrs. Chang.
“He was the most powerful mage of our time, and you three are his great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren,” said Walter. “Well, I always forget how many greats, but quite a lot of greats.”
“What?” said Wesa and Toby at once.
“How is that even possible?” said Thatch.
“It is true, son. We are his descendants. We are protectors of his most magical artifacts. This is why the three of you, the youngest generation, are the only ones who can activate the hat or the swords. They belong to you,” said Mr. Brusknutt.
“How am I related to Merlin?” said Wesa, looking at her mother.
“Merlin was never married. He had many loves in his life,” she replied, shrugging. “Your great-something-grandmother was merely one of them.”
“So there could be other children then?” said Thatch.
“No, only the three bloodlines have been detected,” said Mr. Brusknutt. “You are the youngest living descendants of Merlin himself.”
Toby looked at Thatch and Wesa. He was hardly able to comprehend all the new information. They were related to Merlin! Someone he had only ever read about in books. Not only was Merlin real, but he was related to him.
Toby suddenly remembered the hat. He had managed to rescue it from his mother!
“I saved the hat! She doesn’t have it anymore. My mother, I mean.” Saying those words now caused him such pain. His mother being alive hurt worse than her having been originally dead.
“Didn’t I mention I can see invisible things?” said Rufus, still lying flat on the carpet. Everyone had forgotten him in the background. Holding up the box now clearly visible, Rufus smiled despite the pain of his wounded leg.
“Thank you, Rufus. Thank you. Please do allow me, won’t you?” Grandpa took the box from him and placed his hands on Rufus’s wounded leg. “Abracadabra,” he said as golden light poured from his hands and healed Rufus’s wound .
“Grandpa! That’s amazing,” said Toby, rushing to Rufus’s side. His leg was completely healed.
“I’m a healer, my boy. That is my power. I’m sorry I never told you about all this before now.”
Toby wondered how he hadn’t guessed that, given Grandpa was a doctor.
“Is that why I never catch a cold?” said Toby.
Everyone laughed as the last fragments of tension in the air faded away.
“Well done, Tobias. Well done,” said Florence Inkwell.
“About my name. Can you please call me Toby from now on?”
Everyone laughed again.
Mrs. Inkwell relaxed, laughing along with them. “And what are we going to do with you? Time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” she said, poking Alexander Kirby with her wand.
Alexander Kirby lay on the carpet beside Rufus with a smile upon his lips as though he were dreaming of delightful things. He opened his eyes slowly and realized he had an audience. His face turned sour as he sat up and backed away from them all. His hand wriggled through the rope, searching the carpet around him.
“Looking for this?” Rufus stood up and moved away from him.
Alexander Kirby looked around the room frantically.
“Don’t even think about trying something,” said Jack. He grabbed him by the cape and pulled the tape from his mouth. “You’re the rat here, Kirby.”
He kicked at the three large rats scampering to get to their father. “You always have been. You have single-handedly killed thousands of illusionists. You will clear my name today if it is the last thing you do! Do you understand me?”
Alexander Kirby scrunched his face into a ball. “Why, you—! Abracadabra!” But nothing happened.
“Lost your memory, have you? Let me remind you. My wife, your girlfriend, st
ole your powers,” said Jack.
He pushed him back down on the carpet, and the rats scampered into Alexander Kirby’s lap.
“My power,” he cried, hugging the rats to him with his chin.
“You’re pathetic. It serves you right to lose your powers. You killed Mother and all those other innocent illusionists. You manipulated so many people to get your hands on that hat. Now you have nothing!” Rufus spat the words at his father.
“How are you speaking to me? Your brain . . . it’s . . . damaged.” He forced the words out as though trying to make sense of what was happening.
“I recovered, Father. But what never recovered was my hate for you. I will never forgive you for killing Mother.”
Kirby hung his head in silence. He had lost his powers and all of his sons in one day. And it showed all over his face and demeanor. He had lost.
“We’ll turn your sons back, Kirby. Unlike you, I have some honor,” said Jack, taking the rats from him.
Wesa nudged Toby and giggled. “It suits them to be rats.”
But Toby had other matters on his mind. His dad was alive. “Will you come to live with us when your name is cleared?”
“Oh yes. Yes, I will if you’ll have me.”
“I’d like that very much! And, Dad? One other thing. ”
“What is it, Toby?”
“Why aren’t you called Roberts? Your performance name, I mean.”
Jack laughed and patted Toby on the back. “Good question. I always fancied having a grander stage name than Roberts. I was very famous in my performance days, you know. So I took Roberts and spelled it differently.”
Toby mapped out the word in his brain, imagining it spelled differently. “R-O-B-E-R-T-S. It’s Strebor when spelled backward!”
“And it suits you, Jack,” said Grandpa. Tears of joy streamed down the old man’s face.
“Thanks, Dad,” said Jack hugging his own father to him.
