The Key & the Flame

by Claire M. Caterer

  Holly turned the bedroom door handle, relieved it wasn’t locked. She found Almaric and Jade sitting at the little table, drinking something hot from bowl-shaped cups.

  “Ah! The Lady Holly!” Almaric said, standing up at once and beaming at her.

  “Sorry I’m such a mess,” she said.

  “Perhaps a bath,” said the cat.

  “Jade, manners! Do not mind him, my lady. Come with me, if you please.”

  Almaric led Holly out to an ivy-covered wooden shed behind the cottage. He opened the door, and inside, Holly found a large iron tub full of water. A towel hung nearby next to something that looked suspiciously like a dress.

  “The water is heated,” Almaric said. “ ’Tis one of my small talents, but it comes in handy. And the clothing . . . I’m afraid we don’t have anything quite like what you arrived in.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Holly said quickly. “Thank you.”

  Almaric smiled and bowed, backing out.

  It was a long while before Holly was satisfied with her wash. She scrubbed her hair as best she could and scraped the mud from her skin. In the end, she was a good deal cleaner than when she’d begun. She slipped the white cotton dress over her head and combed through her hair with her fingers. She glanced down at herself. If she were going to rescue anyone, she’d prefer her jeans and tennis shoes.

  Back at the cottage, Almaric sat Holly at the table and loaded up her plate with hot fried fish and bread. He pushed a tureen of porridge toward her and passed her cream and butter and honey and jam tarts. Holly hardly paused between bites. “I hope we shan’t run out,” Jade observed dryly.

  Holly glanced at him. “My mother doesn’t let animals eat at the table.”

  “Nor do we.”

  Almaric stacked the empty platters. “Jade! Such a way to speak to Her Ladyship!”

  When the plates had been cleared, Almaric brought Holly a cup of tea. “Now, my lady, you must tell us the exciting tale of your escape.”

  You mean after the others left me behind? Holly thought. But that wasn’t Almaric’s fault. “When Fleetwing and I fell, the king’s knights captured me and took me to see the prince. I’m lucky he didn’t kill me right then.”

  “Yes, quite!”

  “But then they locked me in a room and told me I’d be executed this morning.”

  “My goodness!” Almaric leaned forward eagerly.

  “I kept expecting someone to come help me—Ranulf or Fleetwing or somebody—because they didn’t know what was going to happen to me—”

  “How dreadful!”

  “And then . . . Then . . . ”

  “Yes? Then what?”

  But Holly dissolved in tears. Almaric sprang up and rummaged in a nearby sideboard for a handkerchief. “My word, Your Ladyship . . . Goodness gracious me. Jade . . . ?”

  “I believe,” said the cat, from his place in front of the fire, “that Her Ladyship feels herself ill used because the rest of us neglected to stay and be captured as well.”

  “But you didn’t even come back for me! And . . . ” One of the boys is dead. She couldn’t even bring herself to say it.

  “Do you imply cowardice?” The cat stood up, his back bristling. “Do you realize the risk taken on your behalf by creatures who have no reason to trust you, save their own desperate hopes? Have you no concern for their welfare?”

  “Fleetwing!” Holly said, remembering the fall. “Is he all right?”

  “Gravely wounded, and Fortimus the stag as well,” said Jade, switching his tail. “A leogryff, as fortune has it, heals quickly. His magic grants him this. I cannot say the same for the stag, but I do know they shall be hunted now and slaughtered, unless you prove to be of some use to them.”

  “Jade! Her Ladyship!”

  “Should earn her title, Almaric.” The cat settled back into the cushion. “ ’Twas an Elemental who rescued her, before our own plan could be realized at daybreak.”

  “An Elemental!”

  Holly wiped her face. “So there was a plan?”

  “Of course,” said the cat. “Before the execution, when you would be brought into the open air, and escape was possible. Not when you were locked in the North Tower with no means of egress.”

  “I wasn’t there. They took me to the western chamber. It was the queen’s order.”

  “The queen’s order?” Almaric’s voice fell to a hush.

  Holly described Elianne’s visit and how Ignata had helped her. “And you tried to kill her!” She turned to the cat, angry all over again.

  “Jade!” Almaric beamed at him. “What bravery! You are too modest!”

  “But aren’t you listening? She was helping me,” said Holly.

  “Oh no, my lady, certainly not,” Almaric said. “Jade saved you from a prison from whence escape would be impossible, queens or no queens.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Did the Elemental not offer you a firecake?” asked Jade. Almaric gasped.

  “Well . . . yes. She said I couldn’t get into their little house otherwise.”

  “Exactly. What it failed to mention was that you would never again be as you are.”

  Almaric nodded. “ ’Tis true, my lady. When the king banished magic from the kingdom, the Elementals retreated into their invisible homes and refused to show themselves except to those who proved useful to them. With an Adept at their side, they would gain great power. They would never have released you.”

  “She . . . She said that one of the boys was dead,” said Holly.

  “Quite possible,” said Jade.

  “But just as possibly not,” Almaric countered. “These creatures always pretend to know more than they do.”

  Holly held the warm cup of tea close to her. Maybe there was hope that both boys were still alive. Queen Elianne hadn’t said anything about one being dead. “The queen said she would delay the boys’ execution for three days.”

  “Her Majesty is a recluse. She has no power,” Jade said quietly.

  “But she’s pretty equal to the king, right?” asked Holly.

  Almaric snorted. “She is more the king’s prisoner than his wife. Since the birth of the prince, she has rarely been seen in public.”

  “But she must be able to make some decisions,” Holly insisted. “She said she wanted to wait until the king got home. Maybe he’d want to question Everett and Ben himself.”

  “Still, she could not have meant to aid your escape, my lady,” said the cat.

  “ ’Twould be treason,” Almaric agreed.

  “Who here speaks of treason?” boomed a voice. Ranulf’s face appeared through the open window.

  “What a start you gave us! Put that silly thing away!” Almaric waved at the sword the centaur had drawn. “I wager you unsheathe it in your sleep, Ranulf.”

  “ ’Tis best to come prepared,” the centaur said, though he did as asked. “I came to see that all was well with Her Ladyship, and to discover what plans have been made.”

  It took a few minutes to catch Ranulf up with all that had happened so far. Holly still thought Ignata wasn’t as bad as Jade had said, but at least she was convinced that everyone had tried to act in her best interest. The question was what to do next.

  “I too would be loathe to believe that the queen had meant to aid the lady Holly,” Ranulf said at last. “Did not the knights come swift on our heels?”

  “We cannot tell what the queen is playing at,” said Jade. “But we can at least discover if the prisoners are still alive. Send Hornbeak the falcon to the castle. He will find out.”

  “ ’Tis already done. I await him here,” said the centaur.

  “I don’t even have any way of getting home,” said Holly in a small voice. “Even if I do get them—him—back. Whoever’s left. I need the wand.”

  Ranulf and the cat had no answer to this dilemma, but Almaric’s eyes brightened. “Ah yes. I have been thinking on this since daybreak. Your wand, my lady, is likely lost forever. But perhaps another could be
forged.”

  The cat snorted, and Ranulf said, “I would wager an Adept’s wand has not been forged these hundred years.”

  “But why should it not be possible? ’Tis not a long journey from here—”

  “And who has seen her since the Last Days, Almaric? She has no apprentice, she is likely dead—”

  “Her race are long-lived, Jade.”

  “We must act at once, not waste two days on a fool’s errand. I say we attack.”

  “Typical of your race, Ranulf, I daresay!”

  “An untrained Adept without her wand is little more than a lost child.”

  “The proper respect to Her Ladyship, if you please, Jade!”

  “Her Ladyship, Almaric, is not one of us.”

  “Hey!” shouted Holly. The three of them looked up, startled. Holly cleared her throat. “Are you saying I could get another wand somewhere?”

  Ranulf shifted from one hoof to another, then grunted, “Possibly.”

  “How?”

  Almaric leaned forward. “The same way Adepts have always obtained their wands, my lady. You cannot simply go to market and buy one with a few coins. A wand must be forged, and only one is able to do so.”

  “Who is it?”

  “She is of an ancient race, my lady, one even more reclusive than the Adepts. Only one in a generation of her kind becomes the Wandwright, and once anointed, she lives a life twice that of ordinary mortals. Her chosen apprentice lives equally long, until the Wandwright chooses her time to die, and the apprentice takes over.”

  “So you’re saying only two people in Anglielle can make a wand?”

  “Nay, only one, my lady. The race of the Wandwright was hunted to near extinction. It is likely the Wandwright has no apprentice.”

  “It is a fact she has not,” Ranulf said shortly. “I saw the king himself murder the Wandwright’s apprentice unarmed at the Battle of the Wastelands. A child of seven years, she was.”

  The little group fell silent.

  “I did not realize you fought at the Battle of the Wastelands,” Almaric said at last. “But the Wandwright herself survived, did she not?”

  “I cannot say. My brother and I drove the king from her home that day, but I have not heard tell of her since. She was not young those many years ago.”

  “I tell you, she is not far. My crystal says that her home lies beyond the woods on the distant moors.”

  “Are not crystals influenced by wishful thinking?” asked the cat.

  “I don’t care,” Holly broke in. “I have to try and find her. How else can I ever get the boys out of the castle and get us all home?”

  A sudden breeze interrupted her. With a great flourish of his wings, one of the falcons Holly had met the night before landed on the cottage windowsill.

  “What news, Hornbeak?”

  The falcon bowed to Holly, ignoring the centaur. “Greetings, Lady Holly. I bring gladsome tidings.”

  “Is my brother okay?”

  “Both youths live, my lady. I have visited the royal falconry and heard the falconers’ talk. They say the prince has stayed the executions three days, until the tournament to come.”

  The group gave a general cheer, and relief washed over Holly. The queen hadn’t lied to her after all.

  “What tournament be this?” Ranulf asked when they had calmed down.

  “One of the king’s follies. In these times of peace, he must encourage his knights to competition, and treat his nobles to feasting and games.”

  “This may be to our advantage, my lady,” Almaric said. “With everyone in the castle busied about the tournament, your kinsman will have greater chance of escape. Eh, Ranulf?”

  “It would seem so,” the centaur admitted.

  “That’s it, then,” Holly said. Suddenly she felt lighter than at any time since their botched rescue attempt. “I can go see this Wandwright, get a new wand, and use it to help rescue the boys. Right?”

  Ranulf and the others glanced at each other uncomfortably.

  “Well?”

  “Lady Holly,” said Almaric gently, “consider that no one has forged a wand for a generation or more. It is not the work of a moment. The Wandwright must develop an affinity with the Adept; she must have the right herbs in season; the phase of the moon also makes a great difference. And that is not all. The Wandwright herself may not agree.”

  “But why wouldn’t she? She must be an enemy of the king. He tried to have her killed, didn’t he?”

  “The Wandwrights are a race like none other. Even in the face of brutality, she is enemy to none—but in kind, friend to none as well. She will not happily forge a wand for battle.”

  “Your Ladyship’s plan be sound,” Ranulf said, “if the Wandwright be still alive. And if we are able to find her. If she yet has materials to forge a new wand. If she be willing to help Her Ladyship. If she is able to forge a wand so quickly. If—pardon me—Your Ladyship can be schooled to a new wand. And if—”

  “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men. I know how it goes,” said Holly. She stood up. “So we’d better get going, don’t you think?”

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  Sol

  To say that the rest of the boys’ night was cold and uncomfortable—that Everett at first couldn’t sleep and then started up, heart racing, only to sink back into the darkness; that Ben cried himself to sleep and then jolted awake to escape a dream-death by swordpoint; that they both cut themselves on the scattered glass; that the stone floor grew harder by the minute, no matter how they tried to soften it with their jackets; that at any moment they expected a knight to burst in and kill them outright—to say all these things would be a fair account of the boys’ evening, and no exaggeration. Exhausted and cranky, they spoke very little. And so passed a long night that at last brightened into dawn.

  The news of their execution’s delay didn’t cheer them as much as you might think. It’s fine to sit in a soft chair and hear someone else’s tale and feel a stirring of hope, but for Everett, it was just putting off the inevitable. As their cold room brightened, he glanced around at the shattered glass, Ben’s bloodstained face (he was still asleep), and the sheer stone walls, and felt about as low as he ever had. He looked out the window at what appeared to be a very English morning. On the other side of the outer castle walls, the stream that fed the moat meandered into the dense wood. He heard sheep bleating and cows lowing to be milked. From somewhere nearby, the smell of baking bread and smoke from a cook fire wafted up. The steep hill rolled into the valley, and on the opposite rise, he could just make out Holly’s cottage—or where it ought to have been.

  Just as he was working this out, a bright butterfly landed on the ledge of the stone window. It emitted a shrill squeak.

  Everett jumped, and then peered at the butterfly—which wasn’t a butterfly at all.

  Its doubled wings were a transparent magenta, and its body humanoid, though the legs and arms were very long and its face pointed. The skin was a faded yellow hue and its golden eyes so bright he could hardly look at them. The creature seemed clothed, but whatever it wore clung so tightly to its body as to be nearly invisible.

  “It’s like a fairy,” Everett whispered.

  The creature flew up to his face and bared tiny, pointed teeth. “I come from the Realm of the Good Folk, mortal.” Its voice was shrill, like steel being welded.

  “Who are you?”

  The creature backed up, hovering. “I am born in the heart of the sun, and ride its rays each day to Earth. I am called Sol.”

  “Ohhh-kay. I’m Everett Shaw.”

  “And the other? Hath he the Blood as well?”

  “The . . . blood?”

  “Are you kin?”

  “Oh no. Ben’s just a mate. But who are you? I mean, what are you doing here?”

  Sol descended gently onto the windowsill. “We are drawn to the wand, like moths to the candle. It has been used in this place not long ago. Only true Adepts may wield it, young
ling of the wood. You are gifted.”

  There was that word again—Adepts. Everett remembered how Dart had reacted when he thought Everett was one.

  “So . . . do you want me to conjure up bigger wings or something?”

  “You are ignorant,” said the fairy. “Aid comes to you and you scoff at it.”

  “Hang on. No one’s scoffing. We’re in real trouble, and Holly, too. If you can help us—”

  “Holly.” The fairy expelled a long, hissing breath. Its golden eyes gazed into Everett’s, burning until he was forced to look away.

  “Have you seen her? Where’re they keeping her?”

  “Silence. I too have power. Observe.” Sol gestured toward the ground and Everett leaned his head out to see. Unfolding from the window, at first wavy and transparent, but then quite solid, was a spiral staircase made of stone. “Would this not be of some use to you?” Sol asked.

  “Are you kidding? It’s brilliant!” He turned to wake up Ben, but the fairy laid its tiny hand on his arm.

  “The Good Folk do not grant favors without payment in return. This egress is yours only if you share your knowledge and power.” Sol released him and Everett uttered a low curse. A tiny hand-shaped burn appeared on his arm.

  “The wand,” said Sol.

  “The knights took it,” Everett said.

  “And the maid’s?”

  “I don’t know what’s happened to Holly. I was asking you.”

  The fairy flew up to Everett’s cheek, extending its white-hot fingers.

  “Don’t!” he cried in a panic. Somehow he had to keep the fairy here, and happy. It was their only chance of escape. “The knights said she was captured. I think she’s somewhere in the castle, and we’re to be executed in three days. There, is that enough?”