The Key & the Flame

by Claire M. Caterer

  “I don’t think we’d best mention Holly. They didn’t like her for some reason.”

  “And she got caught too.” Ben collapsed again, his head on Everett’s jacket. “Do you think that guy was from some other kingdom? Like a rival?”

  Everett sat up suddenly, his heart racing. It was as if, through all their trials, he had only now recalled what he’d seen. Or what he thought he’d seen. “That wasn’t a guy, Ben. Didn’t you see?” It couldn’t be right; they were in England, weren’t they, in the Middle Ages sometime? Everett glanced at Ben. He had collapsed, exhausted, on the cold floor. Everett whispered to himself. “It wasn’t a man at all. It was a centaur.”

  Chapter 14

  * * *

  Holly’s Resolve

  Holly spent a good deal of time pounding on the little wooden door and jerking the handle and calling Almaric’s name before she kicked the door for good measure and slumped against the wall. “Let me out!” she tried once more, but her words echoed through the little house. She sensed it was empty.

  She opened the porthole-shaped shutter that Almaric had fastened, but the opening was too small for her to fit through. She peered into the forest, straining her ears, but all she heard was the distant scream of a hawk. “Ranulf?” she called, but even his hoofbeats had faded.

  What an idiot she had been. Now it seemed so clear, how the prince had captured Ben and Everett, and Ranulf had captured Holly herself. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want her, unless they had been telling the truth about these Adepts and intended to use her somehow.

  But then why would they leave her with her greatest weapon?

  Holly pulled the wand from her back pocket. Weapon. Sure it was. She grasped the wand at its broad end, the wood smooth and warm beneath her fingers. Like the key, it seemed to belong there, molded to her touch. A trembly warmth spread down her fingers into her arm, then to her heart. The feeling was like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day.

  Holly stood up and circled the room, holding the wand out in front of her. Above the chest of drawers hung a round, convex mirror. She pointed the wand at the cloudy glass.

  Her dim reflection brightened, then wavered. The wand in the mirror glowed like a lit match, though the one in Holly’s hand merely trembled before the glass. What good was a mirror? If only it would show her Ben and Everett . . .

  Just as these thoughts flitted through her mind, her reflection dissolved and other faint shapes crowded into the round glass. Holly spun around to see what was behind her, but it was only the empty room. When she looked back at the glass, one of the shapes solidified.

  Ben?

  Now she could see him quite clearly, curled up against a stone wall, Everett next to him. She held her breath; were they dead? But no—Ben’s arm twitched. He was asleep.

  Holly stretched out her fingers toward the image, but it blinked out like the picture on an old television set. She tapped the wand against the wavy glass. “Come back! Bring him back!” she said aloud, but the mirror was blank.

  The wand trembled in her hand, warming up again. She leaned forward, peering into the glass.

  A black shape flew across her vision, and then, just as fast, a face flickered by—a pale, pointed face with sharp teeth, which turned and grimaced at her for a split second.

  Holly dropped the wand with a cry, and the figure vanished.

  What was that? Were the boys all right?

  Yes.

  She couldn’t say how she knew. She picked up the wand gingerly, refusing to look at the mirror again. She had seen that the boys were safe; that was all that was important. That other thing, whatever it was, might just be some property of the mirror, a kind of defense mechanism. Whatever else was going on, somehow she knew the wand wouldn’t lie to her. She had to believe the boys were safe—for now.

  The wand did have power, but did she? Holly crossed the room to the locked door and tried waving the wand at it. Nothing happened, not even when she said aloud, “Open sesame!” (and immediately felt silly for doing so). She couldn’t make the wand do what she wanted it to, at least not all the time, so what kind of power was that? Pretty lame, if you ask me, Ben would say, and Holly almost laughed before she remembered where he was.

  She sank onto a funny round bed in the center of the room and sighed. Suddenly she felt so very tired, as if all her energy had flowed from the wand into the mirror. Her thoughts tumbled one on top of the next in no coherent order. If she rested on the soft goose down, she would certainly feel better in a few minutes.

  Maybe it was what she had done with the wand or the warm tea she had drunk or her long ride through the forest, but whatever the reason, Holly fell asleep before another thought entered her head.

  —

  She awoke with a start. The light coming through the window was reddish now; it must be late. She dashed to the door and pulled on the handle, but it was still locked.

  Then she heard a great amount of noise—honking and squawking and animated voices—coming from outside. She ran to the window.

  Outdoors in the gathering dusk several strange creatures were fighting to make themselves heard. Holly recognized Ranulf; a few other centaurs circled the clearing, stamping impatiently. Several large falcons wheeled above their heads. Other animals seemed to be part of the meeting as well—two great stags and a large black cat. A very short, burly man with a long beard was showing a small ax to one of the female centaurs. Something else that Holly took to be a raccoon faded out before her eyes. An enormous snake took its place. Had the creature changed? Holly’s heart skipped a beat. The animal blurred out again and turned into a gorilla. Then suddenly it was a bat.

  “Be still!” someone snapped, in a sort of half yowl. Holly peered closer; was it the cat?

  “I can’t help it,” cried the changing creature, which was now a large parrot. “It happens when I get excited.”

  Holly drew back a little so the strange, noisy group couldn’t see her. Almost without realizing it, she pulled the wand from her pocket. At once, a glow like a gentle flame washed through her from her fingers through her body and back again, like a completed circuit. The wand was starting to feel familiar, as if it were greeting her when she picked it up, the way a computer turns on with a musical sound. Holly peeked through the window again.

  Centaurs, changelings, talking cats—there was real magic here, just as Ranulf had said, not just card tricks and fancy stage nonsense like she’d seen at home. Holly glanced around for Almaric, and then spied him in the middle of the half circle.

  “Listen, all of you!” he called. “It is true what you’ve heard. We have seen the Adept, Ranulf and I.”

  “Where is she? Can we meet her?” cried the changeling, whose azure wings started to blur. The cat glared at him, and he solidified again.

  “All in good time,” said Almaric.

  “How did she escape the Island of Exile?” asked the female centaur.

  “She came farther than that. She was spirited here from another world.”

  “To help us?” cried the changeling.

  “It is she who begs help,” snorted one of the other centaurs. His mane was white like a palomino. “And Ranulf says she is untrained. What good is she to us?”

  “Her Ladyship is not your mercenary, Hoofstone,” said Ranulf.

  “Very noble, to be sure,” said the little man in a gruff voice, shouldering his ax. “But times is changed, an’t they? There might’ve been a time when we’d be obliged to serve such a lass as this, but where be the Adepts this forty year? Holed away on some comfy island? They’s got no tyrant king to fash ’em, has they? If they’s as all-powerful as they always was, why an’t they come back, eh?”

  “I say it is marvelous to have an Adept amongst us again!” squawked the changeling. “Surely she will come to our aid.”

  Holly bit her lip. What kind of aid could she give these creatures?

  “Our battle is not hers,” said a deep voice, which Holly thought came from one of th
e stags. “And hers is not ours.”

  “Fools!” snorted Ranulf. “She is an Adept. We are pledged to serve her.” He glared at the burly little man. “You know that better than most, Bittenbender.”

  “And I say any such pact is far expired,” growled Bittenbender. “That balance you always talk of, Ranulf, that’s long been tipped. And not in our favor, neither.”

  “And where is Fleetwing?” the stag added. “If he is not willing to join us, why should the rest of us risk a visit to the castle?”

  “He has been called,” Ranulf said. “He answers a summons in his own time.”

  “Hmmph,” snorted Bittenbender, as if he thought the rest of them should have been as wise. The other creatures all started talking at once.

  “Hearken all!” bellowed Ranulf above the din. “We may each have our own score to settle, but we have a common enemy. If you would desire Her Ladyship’s aid—”

  “Hey!” Holly shouted, almost before she realized it. The group fell silent. Holly blushed, and thought of pulling her head back through the window, but why should she stay quiet while the rest of them decided what to do with her? “I’m not doing anything for anybody until someone lets me out of here.”

  Almaric gave a little jump and glared at the others as if to say, Now look what you’ve done. He scurried into his little house. In a moment, he was at the bedroom door.

  “A thousand pardons, my lady,” he said nervously, as he pulled the door open. “It was for your own safety, I assure you.”

  “You could’ve just told me to stay here,” Holly said, feeling angry all over again.

  Almaric inclined his head in a sort of half bow, following her into the sitting room. “I am sorry, Lady Holly. But I couldn’t chance your trying to find your kinsman on your own. The prince has no doubt sent his knights in search of you.” Almaric shuddered. “If they had found you—”

  “Okay, okay.” Holly took a breath and tightened her grip on the wand, which she still held at her side. She did trust Almaric and Ranulf, even if the other creatures didn’t seem as friendly. “What’s going on out there, anyway? Did you and Ranulf get all these—people—together to help me rescue Ben and Everett?”

  “Of course, Your Ladyship,” said the old man, blushing. “Er . . . that is, primarily.”

  “What do you mean, primarily?”

  “Lady Holly, Ranulf and I went to gather a few of the stronger magicfolk, but word spread of your arrival even before we summoned anyone. The Mounted all heard your summons, and once it was known that an Adept had appeared . . . ” Almaric cast a worried glance at the side window, where the group’s argument was still rumbling.

  “They want something from me,” Holly said, following his glance.

  Almaric shrugged his white, bushy eyebrows. “In a manner of speaking. It was a sort of unspoken pact, you see, with the Adepts of old. They were a solitary lot, but they did use their powerful magicks to protect the rest of us from all manner of dark creatures from the Gloamlands and beyond. In turn, those with other sorts of powers extended their own protection.”

  “Like an alliance, you mean?”

  “Precisely, my lady.”

  “But the Adepts are all gone now,” Holly said, feeling small. “There’s just me.”

  “Quite so,” said Almaric. “And . . . to be honest . . . these good folk have gathered to help you, but more than that, they have assembled because the appearance of an Adept may mean deliverance from the king’s tyranny.”

  “But . . . ” A shiver ran across Holly’s shoulders. “They don’t expect me to lead an army against the king, right? I mean, they’re the fighters, I’m not.”

  Almaric had found a very absorbing ember in the fireplace, which he prodded with a long iron poker.

  “Almaric!”

  “Well . . . there’s a bit more to it, Lady Holly,” said the old man absently. He rearranged the teakettle on the hob, then pulled a linen cloth from a hook and wiped his hands. “The important thing is that they are willing to help you.”

  “But they’re right, you know,” said Holly. “I don’t have any training. Even if I was an—an—”

  “An Adept—”

  “Right, even if I was, and I don’t think I am—”

  “A wand is not given lightly, my lady. You have crossed the veil between worlds, and that is no small feat,” said the magician.

  Holly sighed. How could she explain it? Anyone might have done what she had, if they’d had the key.

  But the key was given to her.

  And why was that, anyway? Mr. Gallaway didn’t even know her, yet he seemed to be waiting for her, as if she were someone special. He didn’t seem to realize that Holly’s greatest power was her invisibility. She didn’t have a cloak, nor a magic box to crawl into, but she was invisible all the same. She was the one sitting in the back of the classroom, sketching dragons because no one noticed her doing it. She snuck along the edges of the playground looking for fossils and arrowheads while the other girls jumped rope and played soccer. What use was it knowing how to tie a dozen different knots and reading scads of books? What could she do? She had potential, her mother said, usually with a sigh. Why hadn’t Ben gotten the key? He was the smart one, the one the teachers liked and their mother praised, who had plans and ambitions, even if they were dorky.

  And now he was in trouble.

  Holly twirled the wand between her fingers. “But what good is this thing anyway, Almaric? I couldn’t even unlock your bedroom door with it. How could I storm a castle?”

  Almaric winced as she waved the wand helplessly in the air. “Yes, yes . . . I see what you mean, my lady. But . . . if you would lower it, please . . . ” She stopped waving it and laid it on Almaric’s little table. “Quite. Now, if you will beg an old magician’s pardon, you are not exactly correct. Even an Adept with no training has power. It is simply a matter of finding it.”

  “Simply?”

  “In days past, even those younger than Your Ladyship were able to make—well, demonstrations, shall we say—”

  “But they expect something real from me, Almaric! Like—I don’t know—magical leadership or whatever. That isn’t me. It’s just . . . I’m not who you think I am.”

  “And I would wager,” said the old man, “that you are not who you think you are, Your Ladyship.” He smiled at her. “Do you suppose the Adepts of old were born with great knowledge and power? Nay, they learnt. They were schooled. They uncovered what was buried deep within themselves. Our friends the Exiles may indeed require some show of—how did you put it? Magical leadership? But if you search within yourself, you will find it, Lady Holly. Betimes, a great need must arise before we see our true calling. What greater need might there be than the safety of your kinsman?”

  Holly swallowed, her throat thickening. “It’s my fault they’re here,” she said, her voice quavering. “Him and Everett. I’ve got to do something to help them. I’m—I’m not usually that nice to Ben. He probably doesn’t even think I’ll try to rescue him. And what’s going to happen to him if I don’t? What if he has an asthma attack? What if they feed him strawberries? He probably doesn’t even have his EpiPen with him!”

  “Er . . . quite so, Your Ladyship,” said Almaric, frowning. “But whilst I cannot speak to those things, I do know this: You must be strong in your resolve. Or you shall persuade none else.” He gestured to the door.

  The old man had a point. Holly’s army, if that’s what they were, might not believe in her, but she needed them. She would just have to try and win them over. She couldn’t leave the boys here, even if she didn’t have any magical powers, even if she wasn’t very good at anything in particular and “didn’t apply herself” and was a little on the scrawny side. There’s no one to do this but me, she told herself. With this thought in mind, and barring all others (But how? and What if I get caught? and What if they won’t do what I say?), Holly picked up her wand and stepped out into the twilit glade.

  Chapter 15

 
; * * *

  The Test

  The creatures quieted at once at the sight of Holly standing in Almaric’s doorway. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she merely held the wand out in front of her. The creatures backed away, the ones with hooves shuffling and snorting as if about to bolt.

  Almaric ran up from behind her and smiled nervously. “May I present Her Ladyship the Adept, Holly of the Northern Wood.”

  Holly continued to stare down the little group until Ranulf, muttering to the others, dropped his head and bowed. Everyone followed suit—that is, everyone except (for Holly took close note) the cat, one of the stags, and the small man.

  The changeling, its head still lowered, glanced up at the cat and whispered loudly, “What are you doing?”

  “I am assessing the situation.” The cat stepped forward and looked Holly in the eye over her wand. Holly lowered it and put it away. “You come not to threaten us, then.”

  “Of course not,” said Holly.

  The cat blinked his bright-green eyes and wrapped his tail around his feet. “I am called Jade,” he said, then added, not exactly respectfully, “Your Ladyship.”

  “I . . . ah . . . nice to meet you.”

  The others rose and watched Jade nervously.

  “It is much you ask of us,” said the cat.

  The stag wheeled to face Ranulf. “This Adept is naught but a child! You would have her lead us into battle?”

  “Peace, Fortimus! I ask Her Ladyship to lead us nowhere.”

  That was a relief. She couldn’t lead anyone into battle.

  “Yet we are to lay down our lives for her!” said Fortimus.

  “The Earthfolk have more quarrels with the king than the lot of you,” said Bittenbender. “Whose magic d’ye think it was what pulled the gems from the earth, what gives these Adepts their power? And what’s it got us? Enslaved, is what!”

  The palomino centaur snorted. “The Mounted have been hunted to near extinction. Some would say the Dvergar are more collaborators than slaves!”