The Key & the Flame

by Claire M. Caterer

  “Tell me,” said the fairy, flying close enough to singe Everett’s hair, “of her power.”

  “She doesn’t have any power. I mean, she did use the wand to open a tree in the wood. That’s how we came here—from some other place. But she doesn’t know spells or anything.”

  The fairy settled on the ledge and smiled. “She is untrained, this Adept.”

  “Yes!” Everett said. “She’s untrained.”

  “That is easily remedied.”

  Everett’s stomach shifted uncomfortably. Why did Sol—why did everyone—want to know about Holly? No one ever asked about him. Something in the fairy’s smile seemed cold, even . . . wrong. “Look, I’m sure Holly’s keen to get trained up, but we really need to get back to the wood, back to our own place.”

  “Is this tree the only way to return to your land?”

  “I guess. I don’t know how else we’d do it.”

  “Would you be able to find it again?”

  The fairy was leaning forward, listening to him very closely now. Everett hesitated again; it seemed to want an awful lot of information, and he didn’t know if it could be trusted. Still, Holly had made friends with all sorts of magic creatures, and where was he? Stuck in a tower with rubbishy food and a stone floor for a bed. Sol could be his friend. A powerful friend.

  “I think I could find it,” he offered at last, though he wasn’t at all sure this was true. “Holly was—I mean, we were both keeping track of where we were going, but then the prince came and took us, so . . . ”

  “Yes, yes,” said the fairy impatiently. “But what of you, young master?” It was then that Everett realized she was female. Her voice was soft, her legs long, her tiny body perfectly formed. Funny how he hadn’t quite seen all this before.

  She flew onto his shoulder, and a shiver whispered down his back. “You too had a wand. You too are of the Blood, are you not?”

  “I’m . . . well . . . ” Everett cast a desperate glance at Ben, who, impossibly, was still asleep. “I did make the wand spit out fire. That’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

  “Fire? That is most unusual. Art of Elemental blood as well?”

  He wanted to be of some kind of blood, but he couldn’t quite lie to Sol. “I don’t think so. I’m just telling you what it did.”

  “Then how did you fail to escape, with a wand of such strength?”

  “It . . . sort of backfired. It got so hot I couldn’t hold it.”

  “I see,” said Sol, flying back to the window ledge. She paced back and forth along it. “A wand protects itself against thieves. You have taken what is not yours.”

  Everett’s cheeks warmed. “It was like he wanted me to have one! Why else would he leave them lying about? Anyone could’ve nicked one!”

  “You are a thief. And you are not of the Blood.”

  The knot of guilt in Everett’s stomach hardened. Somehow, losing the respect of this tiny, fiery creature made everything worse.

  “What is more,” Sol continued, “you will never have the power of the wand. Do not doubt me,” she added, when Everett tried to speak. “I know more of magic and fire and darkness than you could learn in a thousand lifetimes. But perhaps . . . ”

  She stood still several moments, as if thinking. Then Everett heard her whisper in his ear as she lighted there. “Perhaps I was hasty. A thief may be contemptible in your world, but not so in this. You have cunning and a lust for power. Therein lies nobility. You are great magic in the making, my lord.”

  Everett’s heart swelled. Great magic . . . like Holly had. “But I thought you said I couldn’t have any power? I’m not—whatever—bloody.”

  “There are other ways of attaining power. ’Twill be your task to find them. Make, shall we say, the proper friends?” She blew against Everett’s ear with the quietest touch, as if a dandelion puff had brushed past.

  Sol flew from his shoulder and swept one arm in a wide arc behind her. The stone staircase disappeared.

  “Oi!” cried Everett. So much for escape.

  “I cannot help you at present, young lord. I had hoped the wand would yet be in your possession. But we shall meet again.”

  “But—but—”

  “Soon. On the wings of the wind.”

  As she spoke, a breeze touched with sun sprang up like a golden cyclone and swallowed her. She vanished before Everett could call out to her again.

  He stole another glance at Ben, who turned over. How had he managed to sleep through Everett’s entire conversation? Or had he just imagined Sol?

  As the thought crossed his mind, a tiny golden feather fluttered in through the window on the breeze. One of hers.

  He felt a keen ache in his chest, wanting to see her again. But she said she’d be back. And he, Everett, was great magic in the making. That could change everything, even back home. If he could learn to use the wand, maybe his mum wouldn’t have to work all the time, maybe he could show Sean Fellowes a thing or two. With real magic, he might do anything. . . .

  He suddenly wished that he hadn’t admitted to stealing the wand—well, taking it. That wasn’t the same thing, not at all. He wasn’t a thief, more of an . . . opportunist. Sol seemed to understand that.

  But Ben wouldn’t.

  Whatever the fiery little creature was offering Everett, he wasn’t ready to share it. He had the power, she had said. Ben would only ask a lot of questions and want the power for himself, whatever it was. Sol had chosen him, Everett. He was special. And he would guard her secret.

  Chapter 28

  * * *

  The Agreement

  Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, Ben’s voice piped up behind him.

  “Were you talking to someone? Is it morning yet? Where’s breakfast?”

  Everett blinked and sighed as the image of the fairy faded. Whatever Sol had said, he was still stuck in the tower with Ben. He couldn’t help wincing at his friend. Ben had wiped his bloody hands on his grimy face, and his hair stood up at odd ends all over, and his eyes were red and puffy. The smell was nothing pretty either, and that was both of them.

  “They haven’t brought anything,” Everett said in answer to Ben’s question.

  “I thought I heard someone come in.”

  “No, I was just . . . thinking out loud. Trying to see if there’s some way out this window.”

  “If we could just get a message to Holly somehow,” said Ben. “We should make that Arrow kid help us. He owes us, after saying she was dead and all.”

  Before Everett could remind Ben that the page’s name was Dart, not Arrow, the knight Pagett opened the tower door. “Come with me, lads,” he said. “His Highness wishes to see you.” He unhooked from his chain mail a set of iron cuffs and chains, which he locked around their wrists and ankles. Pagett drew his sword and led them out of the tower.

  “This can’t be good,” Ben whispered.

  The stairway seemed even longer going down than it had going up, but at least they had left the tower. Everett’s mind spun with foolish ideas: He could loop his chain around the knight’s neck or maybe jab him in the eye and seize his sword. Or he could break their chains with a swift kick and then leg it out a window. And while these sound good from an action-film standpoint, they are much less believable when you’re actually shackled and shuffling down a narrow stairway with a sword against your back.

  They reached the bottom of the steps and started down one long passageway after another. They crossed in front of the Great Hall, through a courtyard, then up a short staircase to a door where another knight stood.

  “The prisoners, to see His Highness,” Pagett announced.

  The other knight used his sword’s hilt to rap on the door. Then he opened it and let them through.

  They entered a large chamber filled with short, armless couches and poufed ottomans. Everything was covered in dazzling red and gold fabrics, and large leaded windows let in the sun.

  The prince himself sat on a carved wooden throne at the far end of the room.
Flanking him were a few large potted trees where several ravens nested. A low table held the leavings of his breakfast. Everett’s stomach growled. He could hear Ben wheezing. He needed his inhaler again.

  “Leave us,” said the prince to Pagett and the other guards.

  Pagett hesitated. “Does His Highness not wish protection?” he ventured.

  The prince glared at him. “I have no need of it. And take away these fetters.” He waved a hand, which spurred Pagett to action. He unlocked the boys’ shackles, whispering fiercely, “Mind yourself, I shall be outside the door.” The knight bowed to Prince Avery and left with the others.

  It was the first time Everett had gotten a proper look at the prince without bumping along on horseback or being threatened in some way. He wasn’t much taller than Everett himself. He wore an embroidered silk tunic and a long overcloak, but even the extra clothes couldn’t hide the fact that Avery was just a kid, and kind of a scrawny one at that.

  “Ye be a sight, the pair of you,” said the prince finally. He grimaced as if Ben were something a cat had coughed up. “What ails thee?”

  “He needs his medicine.” Everett rummaged in Ben’s jacket pocket until he found the inhaler. Ben pumped it into his mouth and his breathing eased.

  “Give that to me,” Avery ordered.

  “You can’t keep it,” said Everett.

  “I shan’t keep it.” Avery snatched up the inhaler, turning it over in his hands. “ ’Tis a strange device. Yet it seems effective.”

  “Give it back.”

  “Very well.” The prince tossed it to Everett, and for a moment they were just three ordinary boys, looking at one another’s trinkets.

  “Now then. Whence do ye come? I have never seen garments such as yours.”

  “It’s all been a mistake, Your Highness,” said Everett. “We were lost. We just wandered into the wood. We didn’t know it was yours. And anyway, we had no weapons, so how could we poach anything?”

  “I would have had your heads at daybreak, but my mother the queen has stayed your execution. Why?”

  “Maybe she wants more evidence.”

  “Or she has been bewitched,” said Avery. “I have not forgotten, ye were in the company of an Adept, who has since escaped the castle.”

  “Yes!” Ben shouted.

  “I told you!” cried Everett. He slapped Ben a high five.

  “She can do anything!” Ben gushed, swiping at his eyes. “Even at home, when she’s in a ton of trouble and she’s grounded to her room, she can always get out, through a window or—”

  “Silence!” said the prince. “How are ye called?”

  “I’m Everett Shaw,” said Everett, shushing Ben. “And this is Ben Shepard. We’re not Adepts. We don’t even know what they are.”

  “Then how came ye by this?” The prince picked up a stick from the table and twirled it in his fingers.

  “Everett! That’s your wand,” Ben said.

  “Sir Grandor said thou didst make fire with it.” Prince Avery’s voice dropped to a hush. “Do it again.” He stretched his hand out, the wand flat in his palm.

  “Don’t, Everett!” Ben cried.

  “I can’t control it, Your Highness. What happened last night was an accident.”

  “Take it.”

  This sounded more like an order than a request. Everett took the wand. Ben winced. The wood felt cool and ordinary, but when Everett closed his fist around the broad end, the vibration tingled in his fingers. He swept the wand away from the prince and aimed it at the floor, where he thought it would do the least damage.

  But it didn’t spin out of control like before. He was able to steady it as the vibration thrummed through his body. A thin, orange spark shot from the wand’s tip.

  Everett was sure something would catch fire, but instead, the flame rebounded from the floor and flew up to the ceiling, where it exploded in a shower of sparks like fireworks. Everett pointed the wand at them and they changed color from orange to yellow to blue, twirling in Catherine wheels before falling harmlessly to the floor.

  Was this the great magic the fairy had talked about? Maybe now he could use the wand to get them out of here. But then he remembered the knights just outside the door. Everett laid the wand on the table.

  Only then was he conscious of having heard the prince gasp and Ben utter a sound like “Ooooh!” Avery looked Everett in the eye. “Tell me how it was done.”

  “I honestly don’t know, Your Highness.”

  “Nonsense.” The prince snatched up the wand. “What men call magic is but illusion. Why does it not make fire for me?” He lowered his voice, leaning close to the boys. “Can it be that thou hast real power? That thy magic be true?”

  “It belongs to him,” Ben spoke up. “That’s why it works.”

  The prince glanced at him.

  “See, it’s like Holly’s wand—my sister’s. She could do all this stuff with it, but when I picked it up, it wouldn’t do a thing.”

  “This one worked for you last night,” said Everett. “Why’s that, then?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know. But it was nothing like what Holly can do. I think it’s because Mr. Gallaway gave that wand to her, like it’s meant for her. And he gave you that one, right?” Everett glanced away. “Only this one doesn’t work right, for some reason. Maybe it’s defective.”

  Prince Avery turned the wand over in his hand. He seemed not to hear them. “I do feel something,” he whispered. “A sort of . . . rightness. A power.”

  He lay down the wand and shivered, lost in thought; then, abruptly, he stood up. He walked around the two boys. “How many years hast thou?” he asked Everett.

  “Twelve, Your Highness. Ben, you’re . . . ?”

  “Ten.”

  “And I, nearly fourteen. Still, thou be not too young. . . . ” An exotic perfume came from the silks Avery was wearing. “An idea has occurred to me. Hast competed before?”

  “Competed, Your Highness?”

  “His Majesty is hosting a tournament anon. Knights from all corners of the kingdom will come to shew their talents. I should like my personal champion to win, naturally. Grandor has served me well enough in the past, but none has seen power like thine before, whether real or no. Thou shalt joust, Everett, wand in one hand, lance in the other.”

  “Joust? Isn’t that the thing where the knights fight?” Ben asked.

  “ ’Tis a contest of strength,” the prince explained, “and skill. Mounted knights essay to unseat one another with the lance.”

  “I can’t do that. I’ll get killed,” Everett said.

  “But not if thou wieldest the wand, nay? Besides, I have trained in the joust myself. We have three days afore the tournament; it will amuse me to train thee.”

  “Can you really learn to joust in three days?”

  “No, Ben, you can’t. He’s just playing with us.”

  “A serious game,” said Avery. “I shall spare your lives if thou be victorious.”

  Victorious? The prince couldn’t be serious. Everett’s stomach lurched as if he were already on horseback.

  “What about Holly?” asked Ben.

  “She is an Adept,” said Avery. “She must be captured and executed.”

  “Then forget it! No deal.”

  “Wait, Ben—” Everett put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “Maybe you don’t care about Holly, but in case you forgot, we can’t even get back to our world without her,” Ben said, throwing his arm off.

  “What is thy meaning?” said the prince, giving him a sharp look.

  Everett nudged Ben, pushing him off balance. “Hey!” Ben said, scowling. Everett raised his eyebrows at him, trying to project his thoughts into Ben’s head. We can’t just tell him everything. He already thinks we’re outlaws. Now we’re going to look mental as well.

  Ben stared at him blankly. “What is your deal?”

  “Speak, poacher! Or I shall rethink my offer of clemency,” said Prince Avery.

  �
�All right, listen,” said Everett. “We’re not poachers, and we’re not those Adept things, because we come from somewhere else altogether. This whole country—we’ve never been here before. We came through the wood with Holly’s wand from, I don’t know, another place. I mean, the land is pretty much the same. Except the river runs a rather different course. Like you said, the clothes are different. It’s . . . I don’t know . . . later.”

  “It’s more advanced,” Ben cut in. “Like, we’ve got cars and planes and computers . . . ”

  “Like a carriage, only it goes on its own, without horses. . . . ”

  “And big metal birds that fly, and you can sit in them. . . . ”

  “Running water! You can take a hot bath whenever you like. . . . ”

  Avery’s face whitened, his eyes large and round. And . . . greedy, Everett thought. He wants to see this world.

  “And you don’t have to burn candles,” Ben was saying. “You just turn a switch, and it’s bright as day. . . . ”

  “You can talk to people far away, using a kind of speaker thing. . . . ”

  “There aren’t any knights, though there used to be. . . . ”

  Avery collapsed back onto his throne, his mouth open. “What . . . What is this place you speak of? Is it truly a magic realm?”

  “It’s real,” said Everett. “But only Holly knows how to get there. She can take anyone she likes, you know. Maybe . . . ” He pretended to think, but in fact he had been thinking very quickly for some time now. “Maybe you could come back with us.”

  “He could what?” said Ben.

  “Just for a visit, just to see what it’s like.”

  Avery’s eyes glittered. “Truly, men can fly in your world?”

  “You could come and see,” Everett said softly. “It wouldn’t take much time. But we need Holly.”

  “And when you got back, you could tell everybody how you chased us all into our world and left us there,” Ben offered.

  The prince’s voice dropped to a whisper. “To release an Adept . . . ’Tis treachery.”

  “Not if you sent us back to our world.”

  “But how’re we supposed to find Holly, anyway?” Ben asked. “Haven’t the knights been looking for her?”