Rachel gave the air behind her a skeptical look. “Do you think Valerie would like that?”
“I don’t know. She’d get used to it.”
Rachel rolled her eyes.
They burst from the tree-lined path and shot down the stairs of the ruins of Bannerman’s Castle. Rain pelted their heads and slipped down the back of Rachel’s neck. She shivered.
As she prepared to cross the Hudson, Siggy called out, “Eh! Before we go across, can we see the ogre?”
“What? Do you know how far that is? The ogre’s cave is in Dutchman’s Cove, at the northern most tip of the island. That’s several miles up the coast! In the rain!”
“So,” shrugged Siggy. “We’re not busy, right?”
• • •
“Do you think he’ll come out if I throw stones?” asked Sigfried.
The two of them hovered above the small island at the center of Dutchman’s Cove, rain pelting down around them. They gazed at the dark opening in the rocky side of the curving western bluffs that Mr. Burke had once pointed out as the home of the ogre. To their left, the wooden ribs of the wreck of The Flying Dutchman were partially visible through the enormous branches of the fallen Roanoke Tree. The Heer of Dunderberg had blasted the great tree with the lightning bolt that slayed their friend the Elf. Farther inland, the burnt, hulking stump of the gigantic trunk still towered over the rain-soaked landscape.
Higher up the hill, beyond the towering stump, rose the rocky crescent that was all that remained of the peak of Stony Tor. Behind them, across Dutchman’s Cove from the ogre’s cave, lay open fields and, beyond that, out of sight, a small lake.
Rachel wiped the water from her face and glanced at the gigantic fallen trunk. She remembered back but saw no sign of the golden fire that had once danced along the limbs of the living tree.
“What if I send Lucky inside?” he asked.
“Don’t send Lucky in!” Rachel screeched and grabbed for his arm, as the familiar red and gold form of the currently-visible dragon zigzagged toward the cave mouth. Only she misjudged where Sigfried was, since she could not see him, and found herself grabbing a handful of empty air. “That’s how that boy was killed! He sent something into the ogre’s home. It came after him. Hunted him down!”
Behind her, she heard Siggy loosen his knife. “We’ll be ready for him! Won’t we, Lucky!”
Rachel could not hear Lucky’s answer, but Sigfried grunted with satisfaction. She could no longer see Lucky, either, unless she relied on her memory. He had faded from view.
“What if it has a charmed life, and you can’t hurt it?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we do some research first?”
“Charms, shmarms. What are the chances of that, anyhow?”
“Not very…” Rachel’s voice trailed off. “Um, actually, the chances might be high.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the person who gave that other ogre his charmed life was Baba Yaga.”
“So?” Siggy asked innocently.
Why did Sigfried sound so innocent? That could not be good. Rachel glanced down and thought back. Her memory caught a glimpse of Lucky sneaking closer to the bluffs.
“She was here twenty-four years ago,” she said worriedly, her eyes now tracking Lucky as he approached the cave, as his obscuration no longer fooled her eyes. “She was one of the Terrible Five.”
“Baba Yaga? Did we learn that in some class? Oh! Wait! Wasn’t she the gangmate of that Toast-high guy who Mr. Fisher fought?”
“Koschei. Koschei the Deathless,” Rachel said patiently. “Yes. They were…well, I wouldn’t have chosen the term ‘gangmates,’ but that’s close enough.”
Siggy’s voice suddenly became deadly serious. “But we do want to stop the ogre, don’t we? Before it kills again? It isn’t okay that it eats people, just because they are Unwary, is it?”
Rachel absentmindedly touched her chest above her heart as she recalled the tremendous sympathy she had felt for the family of Tommy Check during the Knights’ meeting.
“No,” she said softly but with great determination. “It isn’t. And yes, it needs to be stopped. It must be stopped. We want to make the world a safer place—for everyone.”
“Then let’s vow to stop it,” said Sigfried the Dragonslayer in all seriousness.
Lucky snaked through the rain and slid up to the cliffs. He disappeared into a second cave, farther to the south, and, popping out again, began sidling toward the ogre’s abode. Both students fell silent. Rachel held her breath. The gold and red streamer that was Lucky zipped up to the dark mouth of the cave and disappeared from view. The silence stretched on and on.
“It’s not home,” Siggy scowled.
Rachel let out her pent up breath. “That’s a relief!”
She wanted the ogre stopped, but rushing in half-cocked without any planning was just going to add to the ogre’s larder.
“Lucky says it has some nifty treasure in its nest, though. Do you think it’d miss—”
“No!” cried Rachel, casting around for a logical reason to support her objection. “Y-you can’t steal a monster’s hoard unless you defeat him in combat! It wouldn’t be knightly!”
“Good point.” Siggy gave an exasperated sigh. Rachel could feel him securing his knife again. “How can a self-respecting person defeat a monster who isn’t there!”
Lucky popped out of the cave, visible again.
“You’ll just have to wait,” said Rachel, much relieved.
“I hate waiting,” muttered Sigfried.
The broom jerked as he suddenly leaned sideways toward the cliff. He shouted, “I’m coming for you, ogre! I hope you enjoyed munching down on that Tommy boy, because he’s the last teenager you’ll ever eat!”
Chapter Eleven:
Storm Chasing by Steeplechaser
Once they were back at the southern coast of Roanoke, Rachel bent low and jetted across the Hudson at racing speeds. Keeping close to Storm King, she shot up past where a paved road had been cut into the side of the mountain, continuing up the slope. From beneath came the loud whistle of the train that wound its way around the foot of the mountain.
As they drew closer to the bowl-like, rocky peak, she slowed down. This was for the best, because she was completely unprepared for the peal of thunder that followed when a lightning bolt struck nearby. The noise was so loud that the ground trembled, and the very air itself seemed to shake. Nearly deafened, Rachel clapped her hands to her ears. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She could not see Siggy, but his arms let go of her waist, presumably because he was also covering his ears.
Siggy shouted, but it took three tries before she could hear him over the thunder-induced deafness and the rising winds. “Look! Over there! The Heer’s fighting somebody!”
“Let’s go take a look, shall we?”
She dived toward the brilliant flashes, alternating between steering the steeplechaser and covering her ears, as deafening thunderclaps shook the mountain. Below, the Heer of Dunderberg and his lightning imps fought a half a dozen Agents of the Wisecraft, who stood on the slopes in their billowing Inverness cloaks, surrounded by fog. An Agent’s tricorne hat blew by, sailing on the wind. Lucky must have dashed after it invisibly, because the hat suddenly reversed direction and zipped back to the ground near the surprised Agent’s feet.
The Agents shot Glepnir bonds, silver nets, and brightly-colored blue sparks from their fulgurators’ staves, but the lightning imps were too quick for them. The little electric-white creatures moved in an erratic zig-zag that reminded Rachel of a skater. They threw short javelins of crackly electricity that elongated once in flight. Farther up the slope, the Heer himself stood in midair, blowing his trumpet and crying out orders to his imps and mist sprites. He resembled a young boy dressed in orange and green.
Sparks and crackling javelins crisscrossed in mid-air. A stray lightning bolt headed for the broom. Rachel and Siggy screamed, but just before the rush of brilliant blue-white electricity could
strike them, it swerved away. With a ragged breath, Rachel gave thanks for Siggy’s protective amulets and the nettle cakes. The Agents below must have had similar protections, because she noted that the imps’ lightning javelins swerved away from them, too.
“Lucky,” Siggy called during one of the quieter moments, “see if you can catch an imp!”
“Right-o, boss!”
Rachel watched, remembering back until she could see him. The dragon darted forward with river-like grace, as swift as a rushing current. The imp must also have been able to see him. Moving with the speed of lightning, it twisted and zagged, escaping before Lucky could attack. Again and again, Lucky lunged, flame erupting from his mouth. Again and again, the imp was not there.
Another imp threw a crackling lightning javelin at Lucky. Thunder ripped the sky. Sigfried screamed out an inarticulate warning. Lucky dodged, twisting in mid-air but not quickly enough. The bolt struck him, electricity dancing up and down the length of his serpentine body.
“Lucky! No!” Sigfried wailed, horrified.
Rachel grabbed his arm, where it clutched her waist, and squeezed, screaming.
Lucky plummeted. Rachel dived, racing after him. Before they could reach him, Lucky shook himself and floated upward. Rachel pulled up, hovering. Lucky made his way back toward them, listing slightly to the right. His mane, the ruff along his back, his tail puff, and long koi-like whiskers were burnt and blackened. His ruby belly scales were coated in soot.
“I’s okay, boss. Just—a little—tired.” Lucky murmured as he reached them. Siggy grabbed him and looped the dragon’s long body around himself twice. Lucky laid his head across the empty area that was presumably occupied by Sigfried’s invisible lap. Rachel felt Siggy lean forward to hug his familiar with both arms. The imprint of his cheek appeared in Lucky’s fluffy side, leaving tears on the singed fur when the boy pulled away.
“We should head back!” Rachel began.
The heavens opened, and hailstones rained down. Hard balls of ice struck the three of them like hammer blows. Rachel shrieked. Leaning low over the bristleless’s handle, she barreled across the Hudson. From behind them came a noise like a locomotive.
A gale force wind swept down from Storm King. It picked up the broom and threw it, helter-skelter, across the river. Rachel grabbed the steeplechaser and bent low over the shaft, holding on for dear life. Siggy had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other clutching Lucky. The three of them tumbled head over heels, left over right, blown about like a bit of thistledown in the wind. Frosty waters and then trees flashed by beneath them.
Inching her thumb forward, Rachel finally reached the toggle for the becalming enchantment and struck it. The air grew calm in a bubble around them. They drifted gently, panting and shaken. Finally, she raised her head and looked around.
The wall of living trees, which made up the protective wards of the school, were almost directly beneath them.
Rachel shouted in alarm. She had purposely never flown over the wards, fearing what the anti-magical barrier might do to the enchantments on her broom. Swiftly, she jiggled the levers and jerked the steeplechaser hard to the right. The broom turned slowly, banking widely, much more like the vectors William had shown her for a plane than like a normal broom motion. With a rising sense of panic, she realized why. The becalming enchantments were dramatically increasing the drag on the bristleless. The line of trees that maintained the wards of Roanoke grew nearer and nearer.
Then, it was beneath them. The bubble of calm encircling them popped. Down they plummeted.
They crashed, Vroomie and all, into the canopy of the hemlocks. Lucky, despite his weakened state, did his best to slow their descent. Between the dragon and the brief interval with the becalming enchantment, they were not moving very fast, but they still slammed into several branches as they descended, twigs snapping in their faces. Finally, they came to rest, draped over a large branch. Short, soft hemlock needles stuck in their clothing and hair.
They could see each other again. The magic of the chameleon potion had also ended.
Frantically, Sigfried checked on Lucky. When the dragon’s slender tongue flickered out and brushed his master’s face, Siggy slumped back against the branch where he was wedged and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Rachel, her heart in her mouth, was busily checking Vroomie. Apart from a few jammed tail fan slats, the broom showed no sign of damage. She also breathed a sigh of relief, only to wince at the pain that jabbed at her ribs.
“Ow!” moaned Rachel, as more hailstones pelted her. Moving gingerly, she slowly checked herself, padding her arms and legs and wiggling her toes. “Ouch! Many places hurt…but I don’t think anything is broken.”
“Why did we fall?” asked Sigfried. “And why can’t I see anything except what is in front of my face?” His voice rose querulously. “I think my amulet’s broken.”
Rachel pointed to their left. Through the curtain of sleet, tall trees grew so close together as to form a solid wall. This living wall stretched in both directions as far as they could see.
“What’s that—” Siggy paused. “I remember this! From the first time you and I went to see the Heer, back when he was still trapped in the tor. It’s some kind of…a block? A wart?”
“A ward,” Rachel laughed and shook her head, an action she immediately regretted, as it was followed by a painful throbbing. “The Heer’s storm winds threw us over the wards of the school. When we crossed the ward without permission, the enchantments on my broom failed, and your amulet turned off. I-I don’t know if we’ll be able to get them started again.”
Rachel held out the broom, trying to get it to hover. It remained a dead weight. She shook it, toggled the levers, smoothed out the tail fan again. Nothing. It could have been a perfectly mundane device. Panic rose threateningly inside her, and a lump began to form in her throat.
“So we…what?” Siggy yawned, leaning back against the hemlock. “Take up residence in this tree?”
Rachel gazed down dubiously through the thickly-needled branches beneath her. “I think we can climb down…”
The hail had stopped, but a torrent of rain fell like a curtain from the roiling sky. A noisy racket came from a nearby copse; a flock of crows rose from the branches to chase an osprey from their territory. Amidst their raucous calls rang out a single, more-familiar sound.
Caw.
A horripilation of eerie wonder passed from Rachel’s toes, up her body, to the top of her head. The steeplechaser bobbed in her hand.
“Oh, look! It’s working!” she cried in delight.
“I can see again!” crowed Sigfried. “Woohoo! Glad that’s over! You don’t know how disconcerting it was not to be able to stare at the back of my own head.”
Silently, Rachel mouthed, Thank you, Jariel.
They mounted the bristleless. Rachel and Sigfried sat on the black leather seat, while Lucky wrapped around the two of them, his head still resting on Siggy’s lap. They floated awkwardly out of the hemlock.
Rachel flew swiftly upward to gain her bearing. Ahead, through the rain, she could see a break in the line of trees making up the ward. Flying nearby, Rachel saw that the gap was about fifteen feet across. Set into the ground between the two lines of trees were large, rectangular blocks of granite that Rachel judged would come to about waist height. These blocks formed a solid line of stone between the trunks.
“What’s that?” Sigfried asked, as they flew onward.
“It’s a ward-lock, a place where the wards can be lifted in case of an emergency. They have one about every mile or so. I see them when I’m flying.”
A large outcropping of rocks stuck up above the treetops. Rachel knew that outcropping. It was northwest of the school. Finding a clearing, she dove down and flew through the trees near the ground, where the branches were thin. Upon reaching the outcropping, she circled the rocks until she found a dry place on the lee side. There, they huddled together beneath a stone overhang, wet and shivering, and waited for the rain t
o let up.
“Did I just see a statue?” Sigfried asked, as he wiped rainwater from his face.
“You mean of a woman with tears made of moss?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“That statue used to have wings,” Rachel stated.
“Ooo! That’s the one?” asked Siggy with great interest. “The one that got changed?”
Rachel nodded grimly.
“Wicked. I wonder what else has been changed.”
Rachel looked down at the steeplechaser, which had failed to work and then worked.
Aloud, she said, “I know of a few things. The farm that belongs to Gaius and his father was not there when I was young. Certain aspects of the landscape I can see from Gryphon Tor altered when I was three. Presumably, when the Raven brought Gaius here.”
“You mean, you can add landscapes? Could we add new countries? New continents?”
“Beyond the existing eight, you mean?” quipped Rachel, trying not to smirk.
“There are eight continents? When do we learn that? Is the eighth one invisible to the Unwary? What’s on it? Dinosaurs? Space aliens? Fairies?”
Rachel burst into laughter. “There are only seven continents. I was pulling your leg.”
“Oh, right, play head games with the Unwary kid,” Siggy scowled. He crossed his arms. “I feel robbed of a whole continent.”
“Other than that, I only know of two hidden things,” she continued, “A page of an ancient bestiary that had an entry for angels—”
“What are they?”
“Like demons but not evil. Like that statue, before her wings were removed.”
“Interesting. What was the other hidden thing?”
“Something really trivial and odd. A silver rattle with an—” Rachel’s voice faltered. She stood with an arrested expression on her face, icy water dripping down her forehead and nose.
“A…what?” Siggy waited breathlessly.
“An A.” She wiped her face. “The letter A.”
“Oooh! That’s scary!”
“Good thing it wasn’t a B!” exclaimed Lucky, who was recovering some of his normal enthusiasm. “Might have stung somebody!”
The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 13
