The Mage and the Magpie

by Austin J. Bailey

  Archibald spun around to face his new attacker. She had charcoal skin and eyes like writhing black beetles. She was oddly short, and wore a rotting leather bag over one shoulder. Archibald raised his cane. “How can you hope to prove successful,” he asked calmly, “when even that marvelous hat didn’t save your friend?”

  The witch laughed. With a flourish, she removed a large red and yellow mushroom from the bag at her side and crushed it in her hand. Then she opened her hand and raised it to her lips as if blowing him a kiss. Tiny particles flew at Archibald like dandelions seeds, catching in his clothes, his hair. Everything they touched melted instantly. His clothing seared and shriveled, burning his skin, and his hair smoked. Several of the particles nearly landed on his face before he jumped away.

  The bug-eyed witch cackled cheerfully. With a loud crack, she brought her hands together, black eyes spinning up beneath her eyelids. She let her head fall backward, extending her arms to her sides, and something shifted beneath Archibald’s feet, as if the ground had become suddenly soft. He glanced down to see the dirt rippling like water beneath his boots. A beetle emerged from the dirt and flopped onto his boot, like a seal jumping out of a wave. Then another followed it. Then they began pouring out. Hundreds of beetles, thousands, pouring out of the ground like ants out of an ant hill. They were crawling up his legs, into his clothes, biting him, and each bite felt like the sting of a bee. Archibald shouted. He tried to run forward but the beetles were heavy and his movements were sluggish.

  With great effort, he managed to break free enough to reach the witch and tackle her to the ground. He had hoped that the beetles would attack her too, but they fell over her without effect. The beetles covered him again, and he had just given in to the idea that he would not break free when a sudden gust of wind blew the beetles from his back. Another gust sent him falling to the ground, but he didn’t mind; it had blown most of the beetles off the front of his body. For a moment, he thought that Animus had come to his rescue, but it was Peridot, standing over the body of the bug-eyed witch, which had been reduced to several pieces. With the third down stroke of her wings, the rest of the beetles were dispersed.

  “Thank you,” Archibald said, attempting to stand up. “I bit off more than I could chew, so to speak.”

  Peridot nodded, licking her lips. “I must leave you to it now,” she said. “It looks like Animus has things under control now. There is an idris that needs my attention.”

  Archibald waved as she launched herself skyward. Finally, he succeeded in getting to his feet. The bite of the beetles had left his legs oddly numb and unresponsive. Turning back to the fight, he saw that Animus was chasing down the rest of the witches with several swirling ends of a tornado that stretched into the clouds. He could see the captured witches tumbling around in a circular vortex high in the air. Nine, he counted, but the one called the March Witch was not among them.

  ***

  Brinley sighed. She had expected something like this. “Where are you going?” she asked, following Hugo to the hen house.

  “We,” he corrected. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She gave him a blank look.

  “Well,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I mean, you’re the Magemother now, aren’t you? So I should look out for you, right?”

  “I suppose,” she said cautiously. “But if you’re trying to protect me, then why do I feel like we’re about to do something dangerous?”

  He grinned. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing, can we?”

  “But chickens?” she asked, following him inside.

  “Never underestimate a chicken,” Hugo said sagely, trying for his best Archibald imitation.

  It was dim and cramped. The chickens clucked and shuffled around her in a puff of feathers. Hugo lifted a rusted sheet of metal off the floor to reveal a hole, which he immediately jumped into. A second later, his head popped back out of it. “It leads into the castle,” he said. “Come on!”

  She hopped in after him, landing in a low dark tunnel.

  “I can’t see!” she said, startled at the idea of pressing forward in the darkness.

  “It’s okay,” Hugo said, “I know the way. I’ve been through here a thousand times. Here, hold on to me.”

  She sighed. She had felt torn when Peridot told her that she was supposed to hide instead of fight. It didn’t feel right to desert her friends. Now she had even less of a choice. She couldn’t just let Hugo go alone. So much for staying out of the action. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  When they emerged a few minutes later from behind a painting, the castle was quiet.

  “Is it always this quiet?” Brinley whispered nervously.

  “Never.”

  They heard heavy breathing, and a scullery maid scrambled out of a doorway on one side of the hall and disappeared through another. She hadn’t noticed them.

  “The castle has been locked down!” Hugo said excitedly. He headed off at a brisk pace and she followed him, their footsteps echoing eerily off the marble floor. “They’ll be keeping the king in the throne room,” he explained. “It’s the most secure place in the castle.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know a way in, though.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In which Brinley has a brilliant idea

  Five minutes later a tall mirror swung open and they stepped into the throne room, startling a group of guards nearby.

  “Hugo!”

  King Remy broke free of the circle of bodyguards that surrounded him. “You’re here! How? Where have you been?”

  “I‌—‌”

  Hugo’s answer was cut off by a vigorous hug from his father. “Is Archibald with you? Did you find Animus? There is wind outside, great whirlwinds fighting the giants!”

  “Yes,” Hugo said, shaking himself free. “Animus, and the Magemother.”

  “The Magemother?” the king said, casting a look toward the passage as if waiting for her to step through. “She’s back?”

  “She’s here,” Hugo said, pulling Brinley forward.

  “Oh my,” Remy mumbled, hand covering his mouth in surprise. “Dear me, you look just like‌—‌” He stopped himself. “A new Magemother? In my lifetime? It is an honor to meet you.” He turned to the room and said in a loud voice, “All hail the new Magemother.”

  “Hail!” the room shouted, and to Brinley’s surprise, everyone gave her a bow, even the king.

  “I’m afraid that’s all the ceremony we have time for under the circumstances,” he said apologetically. “Can you stop these giants?”

  BOOM!

  “It’s here!” a guard shouted from the doorway. Something had collided with the massive oak doors. Brinley felt a sudden wave of fear overtake her. The idris was here. Tennebris would be with it, and she would have to face it. Alone.

  “When beyond my home you go,” she sang softly to herself.

  BOOM!

  “There’s several things you ought to know…”

  “I hope you have a plan,” Hugo said as the guards encircled them. Across the room, several soldiers were attempting to brace the door.

  Brinley was thinking hard. How had the giant gotten through the wind? Was Cannon all right? What had her mother said? Trust your instincts. That didn’t seem like much help.

  BOOM!

  “That lies will catch you fewer flies,” she continued, “than honey and a happy smile.”

  The king put a hand on her shoulder as the circle of guards tightened nervously. “My men can’t handle the idris for long. What should we do?”

  “It’s not the giant I’m worried about,” Brinley said. “Tennebris is with him‌—‌I mean, not Tennebris. I took his power, and he died, but‌—‌”

  “Darkness,” the king finished. His face had gone white.

  BOOM!

  She continued, trying to calm herself. “So wash your face, but not the mirror. It’s full of evil things,
my dear…”

  BOOM!

  The left door cracked right down the middle and the soldiers started jabbing at the idris through the crack with swords and pikes. One of them screamed as he was pulled through it. Brinley looked on in a daze, her mind clutching at a ridiculous idea. It was the poem that had made her think of it.

  “Brinley?” Hugo said frantically, tugging on her arm.

  “I have an idea,” she said. It was a crazy idea‌—‌a bad idea probably, but it was the only one that she had. She wasn’t even sure if it made sense, but it felt like the thing to do. She decided to run with it, trusting that this was part of the “instincts” her mother had spoken of.

  “The mirror,” she told him, grabbing hold of his arm and forcing her way out of the protective circle. “Come on, help me!”

  As soon as he figured out what she was about, Hugo got some of the guards to help them take down the mirror that hid the secret passageway. It was housed in an ornate wooden frame, which they pried from the wall.

  BOOM!

  “Put it by the throne,” she told them.

  They had just finished leaning it against the throne when the door finally broke and the giant forced his way inside. The idris was fifteen feet tall and as wide as three men. Despite the arrows sticking out of it, the idris fought with great energy, dispatching the dozen door guards in a matter of seconds.

  A long row of knights met it next, and they proved more resilient than the guards. They were heavily armored and most of them were tall and broad with the exception of a small, wiry man with a bow. Brinley felt helpless as she watched. Soon the knights had formed a circle around the idris. The smallest knight let fly arrow after arrow, apparently determined to turn the giant into a pin cushion, but the idris continued to challenge them. Soon one knight fell, then another. When the third knight fell, Hugo drew the sword at his side and stepped forward, but his father held him back.

  “No,” he said. “Let them do their duty. Your moment will come.”

  A loud crash brought the fighting to a pause as all heads turned to the doorway.

  A wild boar, big as a rhinoceros and wheezing in panic, skidded into the throne room bearing March upon its back. The witch looked very haggard, and it didn’t take long to realize why they were running. Peridot was close behind. With a bound, she sailed through the air and latched onto the boar’s hind quarters. The great beast jerked wildly in an attempt to free itself, but Peridot unfurled her wings and gave a single powerful down beat, lifting the back end of the boar into the air and flipping it upside down.

  With a yelp, March leapt from the boar, rolling on the floor to break her fall. The boar, disoriented, died a moment later as Peridot descended upon its throat. A second later, she leapt after March, stopping a foot from her face.

  Brinley caught her breath. She had never seen anything so terrible. The fur around Peridot’s jowls was red with blood, her teeth bared savagely. “Withdraw your forces, witch!” Peridot growled, a ridge of fur and feathers rising on her back.

  For a moment, Brinley thought March would comply, but a second later the witch was rising to her feet, her face set. “You cannot win this war,” she said calmly. She turned to the room at large. “Today,” she said with a loud voice, “you may prevail, but you will not last against the darkness that is coming!”

  “Enough,” Peridot growled, slapping her across the face with a massive paw so that she tumbled to the floor. “It is your strength that has failed today, March. Your forces have been insufficient. Your own sister has abandoned your cause.”

  “Lies!” March spat back, holding the side of her face gingerly as she stood up. Peridot had left a single deep cut that ran from the back of the witch’s head to her chin. “The witches are strong. We stand as one against you!”

  “The witches are divided. Your sister stood against you in battle today. I saw her with my own eyes coming to the aid of the Magemother on Calypsis.

  March looked furious. “Lies!” she spat. “She would not! She could not!”

  Peridot lunged, taking advantage while the witch was distracted, but March slipped away at the last second, running for the door. She was incredibly fast, moving with the speed of a wild animal. Peridot spun, trying to corner the witch again, only to find that the idris had approached her from behind. She leapt into the air and sailed over his head, cutting off March’s retreat at the same time. Several of the guards had sprung into action, falling in behind her.

  “Here, herald,” March said, coming to a halt and scowling. “A gift from my father. It was meant for the Magemother, but you will have to suffice!” As she spoke, she began to draw something like a spiderweb from a pouch at her belt. She drew it out by the corner with a flourish and brandished it like a matador’s cape. It was a black thing, woven of shadow, glistening with tears. Without warning, she flung it at Peridot.

  It sailed through the air slowly, transfixing the onlookers. Peridot retreated, but not fast enough. It engulfed her face and chest, clinging to her like a living thing. She gave a single, solitary roar of outrage before her body went limp. Seeing its opportunity, the idris rushed forward, picking up her body and hurling it out the door and over the ramparts.

  Her wings never beat to break the fall.

  March let loose a peal of laughter and flung a tiny crystal marble at the floor. It erupted into a cloud of smoke and she disappeared.

  “No!” Brinley screamed. Hugo held her fast as the knights swarmed the idris. They fought with new vigor, enraged by Peridot’s death. The idris fought with desperation too, taking down one guard, then another, but in the end his leg was taken at the knee by a large knight with a poleax, and he came down.

  A small hush of relief passed through the chamber, only to be stifled as a shadow crept through the doorway.

  The darkness had come.

  It slid around the door posts and convalesced upon the floor, growing, step by step into feet and legs and torso. Hands and head came last, pitted ember eyes emerging as it came to stand before the king’s circle.

  “I need a husk, Remy,” the darkness rasped, “and I think you will do nicely!”

  The knights lunged, but their weapons swung through him, touching nothing but air.

  Hugo pushed Brinley and they tumbled out of his path.

  He glided slowly up to the king, hands outstretched.

  “Stop!” Brinley’s voice startled even herself. She stood beside the mirror. “He is not your host.”

  The darkness turned to face her, a look of doubt flitting across its face. “You do not decide.”

  “I do,” Brinley said firmly. Her mother had said so. Hoping beyond hope that her plan would work, she held the gaze of the darkness as it glided toward her.

  “Who will I take?” it asked curiously. “You?”

  “Not me,” she said. “Look.” With a little flourish, she stepped aside so that the darkness was standing right in front of the mirror.

  The darkness stared into itself.

  It didn’t see the mirror‌—‌not like a normal person would. It saw itself, darkness reflecting darkness, and it was mesmerized.

  “Yes,” the darkness whispered softly. It moved closer to the mirror, then hesitated. It turned back to Brinley, suspicious.

  “You are providing a host?”

  “You must live,” she said simply.

  The darkness turned back to the mirror and smiled. “True,” it said, and walked inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  In which there is a fluffy bathrobe

  Where did he go?”

  “Will it keep him locked in?”

  “I don’t see him.”

  “I think,” Animus said, “that he will be lost in there for a long while.” He smiled at Brinley proudly. “Well done.”

  It was the day after the battle, and Brinley was meeting with the king and his council. Animus was there too, along with Hugo and several of the soldiers who had been present for the battle.

  “While
Animus was fighting the witches on the west,” a soldier was saying, “we were on the east side with Cannon and King Thieutukar. Cannon was holding up well against two witches, but the rest of us were…struggling. After a while, Archibald joined us, and we began to gain ground. Then the second idris arrived.”

  “We were losing men fast after that,” a gray-bearded soldier agreed. That was Captain Mark, Brinley knew. “We would have lost many more, if it had not been for the Angel Witch.”

  “Who?” the king asked.

  The captains looked to Archibald. “It’s what the soldiers are calling her,” he explained. Compared to the day before, Brinley thought he was looking much better. Sleep seemed to have done him a world of good. “One witch broke off from the others,” Archibald continued. “The Angel Witch. She started fighting on our side.”

  “She was incredible!” Captain Mark cut in. “She picked apart their defenses like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point.

  “What did she look like?” Brinley asked.

  “Oh, she was an ugly hag,” Captain Mark said appreciatively. “Fierce, you know. She wielded a magic green ring. My platoon was under attack from the smaller idris when she came to our rescue.” He shuddered. “I don’t like to think what would have happened if she hadn’t been there.”

  Brinley grinned. Apparently Habis had been unable to resist the good after all.

  They all wanted to hear about Brinley’s story next, and she told it in full, only leaving out the part where she had saved her mother in the naptrap. That, she thought, would remain secret for a while.

  Brinley lost track of the conversation for a while after that. They were speaking of people and places that were not familiar to her. Then they began to speak of the idris. “We all know where they must have come from,” the king was saying, “but how did they get here?” Remy was a short, solid man of even temper. His captains seem to have the utmost respect for him, as did Archibald. He sat beside Hugo, directly across from her in the circle of chairs.

  Hugo nodded. “They could only have come from the Ire. How they made it here is the question.”