by Ted Neill
Falik nodded and began to walk down the row. The girls followed, squealing. Mortimer grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and spilled out another chest of treasure onto the floor.
Gabriella clutched her sides with her arms folded across her chest. When Libys asked where more jewels were, the Furies led her to them. When Mortimer asked about the eyes, they played dumb. It did not take a genius to see the game the statues were playing and what they were trying to protect—for themselves. She wished she had not taken the gems, and yet, she could not help thinking of Nicomedes and her feeling that she was meant to take them, for whatever reason.
She brushed her pocket, just to check if the stones were still there. The other three Furies, with chests on their shoulders, steered a laden Garmr towards the door. Adamantus gestured for Gabriella and Daemon to follow. They did, struggling to carry a heavy chest between them.
“Not so fast, Gabriella,” Mortimer said. “Dameon stays here with me. We don’t want you getting any ideas about flying off without us.”
The hopes that had risen in Gabriella’s breast died as she watched Mortimer pull Dameon over to his side. Separated from his sister, Dameon began to moan. Mortimer patted him on the head but had clearly forgotten what Gabriella had told him about Dameon’s idiosyncrasies. Her brother lunged at him, beating against the trapper’s chest. Exasperated, Mortimer shoved Dameon aside and turned back to his search, leaving her brother to whimper and rock.
Outside, the statues descended the hill in loping strides, showing no sign that they were afraid of the drop at the bottom. Gabriella and Adamantus, by contrast, moved with tiny steps, keeping close to the mountainside and out of the mother dragon’s sight. By the time they reached the Elawn, the statues had already deposited their loads and were climbing the hill back to the treasure chamber. Gabriella and the elk gave the Furies a wide berth.
When she and Adamantus dropped their loads on the Elawn, boards groaned under the added weight of the treasure.
“The ship can’t hold this much weight and they are already coming back with more,” she said as the Furies returned. She and Adamantus stopped on the cliff ledge to rest. Neither said a word, but Gabriella knew they both were thinking of ways to escape. Between a gap in the rocks she could see the wyvern’s shape moving across the dome—an angry, giant wasp. As long as they were outside and so close, they were in danger.
“If Mortimer keeps Dameon,” Gabriella said, “then we just need to get both of them back to the ship. We will be stuck with Mortimer on the return trip, but it is better than staying here.”
The statues were growing smaller as they trudged up the hill. Under her breath, she added, “We can entice Mortimer to leave with the eyes. You are right—he wants them more than anything.”
“Yes, but I had not counted on the monsters we would have to take them from. Those statues are dangerous,” Adamantus said, still breathless from the exertion of carrying the treasure. “I think the price of the eyes just went up.”
“We shouldn’t stay out here where the wyvern might see us.”
They both got up, leaning on one another. Gabriella had trouble mustering the strength to climb the steep hill. Adamantus helped her up, pulling her collar in his teeth. On a whim she peered around the ledge to check the doors on the front of the mountain. They were hanging open. What was left of them was twisted and melted. With fire and force, the mother had done her damage.
Just as they turned, three Furies were stowing another load on the port side of the ship. With a loud snap, the deck below Lepas splintered, and the Fury sank through the boards as if he were on quicksand. Lepas shot right through the hull. The statue raised his hands to grab hold of any piece of the ship as he fell, but it was no use—his weight and momentum were too great. He fell down the cliff face, his mouth open in a silent howl. When he struck the bottom, he exploded in a cloud of white dust, his pieces continuing to tumble out to all sides until they disappeared in the purple heather.
Gabriella and Adamantus looked over from the cliff edge just as Alkeron and Catab turned their faces up from the hole in the Elawn. For a tense moment, they all stared in silence before the statues went to work again.
“The Furies will load her until she collapses,” Gabriella said.
“That might be their intention.”
“We need to get Mortimer and Dameon out.”
They climbed the hill, following the statues at a safe distance. In the treasure room, Catab and Alkeron again burdened Garmr with riches. Dameon was where they had left him, sitting and rocking, his head under his arms. He stopped when Gabriella reappeared and moved to press himself against Adamantus, grabbing his fur the way a child would hold a favorite blanket. Mortimer sorted through another mess of coins he had spilled upon the floor. When he did not find what he was seeking, he cursed loudly.
“Mr. Creedly,” Gabriella said, once the Furies and Garmr were on their way to the door. “A new hole just opened in the deck of the Elawn. Some of the treasure might be too heavy.”
“Too heavy?”
“Well, the way the Fur—statues are placing it. I think they need to be supervised.”
He looked at her, suspicion on his face.
“Adamantus and I saw it . . . one of them dropped right through and shattered on the rocks. Did you notice one of them was missing?”
“Actually I noticed you took your time coming back.”
She became exasperated and lied quickly. “Because I was trying to get them to stop loading the port deck! They would not listen to me. They might listen to you. The Elawn is no good to us if she collapses.”
“She speaks the truth, Mortimer,” Adamantus said.
“Take Dameon with you,” Gabriella said with the air of one making a painful concession. “I’ll stay here and gather up these coins.”
Mortimer yanked Dameon by the hand and led him outside.
Gabriella exchanged a look with Adamantus. She would let her brother and Mortimer reach a certain distance, then they would follow. Once outside, she might use the jewels in her pocket to convince Mortimer to leave with them, although she knew it would be hard to part him from his new friends, the princesses and their wands. She made a show of picking up coins and replacing them in boxes before she and Adamantus started for the door. They were halfway across the chamber when Sybil stopped them.
“Where are you going?” Sybil said, stepping out from around a shelf.
“To the Elawn,” Gabriella said, “to tell Mortimer something.”
“To tell him what?”
“That the port side of the Elawn is so weak from all the treasure, it might collapse.”
Sybil stared at her for a moment. “Why are you not carrying a box with you or the elk?”
“Because I just remembered this and—”
It was too late. Sybil blasted her with a searing flash of white light. Gabriella fell to the floor. The room spun.
“You lie! You and your pet elk here. You lie!”
Gabriella was shaking. This blast had been more controlled than the others, but the pain had been more intense, as if the wand’s power grew with Sybil’s rage. Red welts rose on Gabriella’s skin. She pushed the hair out of her eyes. Her forehead was slick and cold with sweat. She knew she had to lie better if she was to survive.
Then it occurred to her, that perhaps she would not. Perhaps she could just give up. It took too much effort to fight any longer. She fell forward and reached into her pocket to find the stones and hand them over. She would do anything not to feel any more pain. But she reached into the wrong pocket. This one held something that felt like a leaf and a twig. Her fingers curled around it and she remembered just what it was: the last living twig from the blue tree, the last leaf Ghede had climbed up the tree to pick, and her last token of him. As it had in the privy on Foyle Island, touching the twig gave her strength, and her resolve returned.
She doubled-checked which hand the princess was using to hold her wand. It took her a momen
t to focus, but Gabriella was sure she used her right, not the left. It was definitely Sybil.
Gabriella did her best imitation of impatience. She leaned back against the wall, shaking her head and rolling her shoulders, her palms up. “What are you waiting for? What happened to our deal, Libys?” Gabriella whispered, looking over Sybil’s shoulder.
“What deal?”
“When your sister was unconscious, after the first blast from my mirror at Foyle Castle—” It was difficult for Gabriella to get the words out, for she was breathless. She was aware though that the other Furies would be on their way back soon along with Dameon and Mortimer. She had to do this before they returned.
“When my sister was unconscious?” Sybil asked.
“Yes, Libys, when Sybil was unconscious, and we made our agreement to come here, leave her here, and return.”
Gabriella suddenly stopped, making a show of widening her eyes and staring at the wand in Sybil’s right hand.
“I’m sorry, Sybil. What was I saying, I was a bit confused.”
Another blast of searing pain. Gabriella nearly lost consciousness, but she held the image of Ghede clambering through tree branches in her mind, the look of hope on his face. The pain stopped quickly this time for Sybil wanted her to speak. The wand was jabbed into Gabriella’s throat now.
“Speak before I destroy you!” she said in a whisper.
“I-I . . . .”
“Or perhaps I should kill your elk friend?”
“No, no. I’m sorry, please no more,” Gabriella pleaded. “Please, Sybil. I thought, I thought you were Libys. She means you no harm. She is loyal to you. She would not kill you when she first materialized, and you were still unconscious, although I begged her to. She recognized you as her sister, but I told her how dangerous and powerful you were. We made an arrangement. You two could follow us here. We would use your wands in the maze for protection. Then we would leave you here where you could have the treasure. She would leave with me.
“You see, Sybil, Libys truly is your opposite. It is not that she just holds her wand in the opposite hand. No, she wants to grow up. She wants to be a queen. She wants to have her own children. She wants to grow old.”
Sybil clenched her jaw for some time before a scream bubbled up from deep in her throat. She struck at Gabriella’s face repeatedly. Adamantus moved between them. Sybil screamed again and began slapping the tears from her own face, then turned and ran in the direction of her sister, cursing through her teeth.
Adamantus helped Gabriella up. “A trick the trickster in Ghede would have admired.”
Gabriella secured the tree sprig in her pocket. “Let’s hope it keeps them busy fighting.”
They found the sisters facing each other at the end of the row. Libys, hearing her sister’s screams, had come running. A mass of clashing jewels glittered as her chest rose and fell. Falik was behind her. Somewhere Libys had found a crown which she wore upon her head. Nothing could have implicated her more. Sybil raised her wand.
“Why are you wearing that crown?” Sybil asked, venom in her voice.
“I like it.”
“Where is mine?”
“Back where the statue showed me this one. There is a king and a queen one. This is the queen one.”
“Why are you wearing that one?”
“Because I was going to let you have the king one because you like to be bossy!”
“Liar! You want to be a queen without me.”
Libys was confused now. “Why are you acting this way?”
Gabriella felt it was time for her to intervene. “Libys, I’m sorry, she tortured me. I told her. She knows everything.”
“Told her what?”
“Told her about our plan . . . to leave her here.”
Gabriella felt a pang of guilt as the trap closed around Libys. She reminded herself that Libys was truly just another Sybil, an extension of the ruined princess, the same person who had killed Ghede. Gabriella noticed Falik’s face turn away from the princesses to look upon her and Adamantus. Her mouth went dry as ash.
“What plan? She is making this up,” Libys said, her brow furrowed.
“Quiet! I hate you!” Sybil shouted.
Libys, with a temper to match Sybil’s own, retaliated. “I hate you! Why don’t you believe me, you stupid—”
“Don’t call me stupid! I will destroy you!” Sybil yelled. A shaft of red light surged out of Sybil’s wand and struck Libys. Falik leapt out of the way with the agility of a grasshopper. He alighted atop one of the shelves. The red light threw Libys across the chamber into the wall, but it also reflected off her jewels. Beams rayed outward, striking treasure chests and exploding them open. Tiles on the floor splintered to dust. A fan of light radiated upwards off Libys’ crown and struck the dome.
A fissure opened in the dome. Adamantus covered Gabriella with his body. An avalanche filled the chamber as bricks crashed down onto the floor. A cloud of dust bloomed upwards from the debris. When Adamantus finally moved his weight off her, Gabriella saw that the chamber was a mess of fallen, translucent bricks. One that had lodged in Adamantus’ antlers slid out and landed with a clack upon the floor. Falik was digging himself out of the wreckage. Libys cowered against the wall. Her dress was singed black in parts, her own skin was burned bright red as if she had been in the sun too long. Her vengeful eyes focused on the collapsed form of her sister. Sybil had sought cover beneath a shelf. As she came crawling out, dazed, Libys raised her wand at her sister and fired.
A bolt of green light sent Sybil sliding back along the floor into the shelves. Wood shattered and treasures spilled. As Sybil’s body tumbled, her own skin turned green with oozing pustules. She vomited yellow bile before clawing her way across the tile floor and returning Libys’ blast with a stream of orange light that went wide and struck the wall, leaving a black crater. Libys raised her wand, ready to retaliate when the chamber erupted in a roar.
The ceiling dome was open. The sky was visible, pure and clear, framing the face of the mother wyvern. Her roar from that maw of razor teeth was a crushing sound. It was filled with all the fury of a wild beast, a vengeance about to be fulfilled, and most of all, a mother in mourning. The mother knew, Gabriella realized, that it had been Sybil and her sister who had caused her to drop the egg. Not the gift of speech, but the gift of understanding. The dragon’s eyes were fixed on the princesses as she struck at the bricks with her talons and fought to enter through the gap in the dome. Libys took the distraction as an opportunity to fire again at her sister. A stream of violet light ribboned across the room and struck the floor beside Sybil. Sybil spun behind a shelf and began firing bolts of lightning.
Adamantus pulled Gabriella to her feet. “Come . . . to the side door,” the elk said as they clambered over the fallen bricks, auras of light from the sisters’ wands flying overhead.
The mother wyvern struck the dome with all her power now, tail thrashing and limbs pounding at the structure. The entire floor shook, and the glass bricks piled on the floor trembled. Splits ran down the chamber walls. The entire façade of the treasure house swayed back and forth. Glass shattered and fell in a glittering rain from the windows. A lantern clanged on the floor. Gabriella and Adamantus tripped and slid over the mess at their feet as they ran. The door was not far. Daylight from outside formed a perfect beam in the dusty air. Gabriella made reaching that light her goal. She stretched her hand out for Adamantus and pulled him along after her.
Figures appeared in the door. “No, Dameon, go back!” Gabriella yelled. But it was not her brother. The Furies Alkeron and Catab stopped in the doorway, Garmr twisting to get away. The stone faces of the Furies scanned back and forth before their gaze stopped on Gabriella. Alkeron reached out a stony hand for the iron crank and turned it. Gabriella watched their escape close with a few twists. The beam of daylight narrowed into a wedge, a slice, and then was gone.
Gabriella heard the sound of stones clacking against stones behind her. She turned, keeping her bac
k against Adamantus.
Falik waited, his hood spread wide, his own master.
Chapter 20
The Labyrinth
Gabriella’s world flipped upside down. All was dizziness and movement until she realized Adamantus had seized her collar, flung her on his back, then shot forward towards the main doors. The Furies took up the pursuit, clambering over the mounds of fallen debris.
“Where are you going?” she gasped, holding on to the elk’s mane.
“The labyrinth,” he said, running as best he could, looking at her over his bloody shoulder. “It’s our only hope.”
More bricks showered down around them as the wyvern gouged a wider hole in the dome. Adamantus cornered sharply to avoid a section of collapsing roof. The debris blocked the path behind, slowing the Furies, and a new plume of dust filled the room. Sybil and Libys still fired spells at one another, creating sparks that flashed through the smoke.
A final wave of bricks came crashing down as the last of the ceiling gave way. Pieces of the dome struck Libys on the shoulder and sent her spinning. Sybil crumpled into a ball then disappeared as the mother wyvern rushed down in a cloud of fire.
The dust and smoke gave Adamantus and Gabriella cover as the elk leapt through the doorway and started down the corridor. The walls around them swayed and shook. Mortar fell from the ceiling as the mother roared. Everything glowed with firelight. Falik appeared out of the smoke and fire and crossed the length of the hallway with frightening speed. He was nearly upon them when a black shape fell down across his body, trapping him in an iron net—the gate to Nicomedes’ tomb.
“One last bit of help from the old man,” Adamantus said as they ran.
“We could use it,” Gabriella said. They needed the extra time. Adamantus’ gait was still uneven as he negotiated the stairs of the treasure house. She hoped the fallen gate would delay the Furies longer, but their luck did not hold. One after another, the statues shot out of the doorway as if being expelled by a malevolent force. Just as they cleared the doorway, the building collapsed as dragon’s fire rushed outwards through windows and curled between the crumbling bricks. It was a vision of ruin that Gabriella thought fit for the end of time. Screams of little girls, the roar of blood-thirsty monsters, fire, smoke, and ash—stone and bones crushed to dust.
