Through the flames, on the other side of the stump, Lady Belisanne lowered her arms and spread them out to Holly, as if embracing her.
Clearly, this was Holly’s cue, but what was she to do? She looked down at the branchlet and pouch full of herbs in her hand. Was this the test, that she was supposed to figure out the next step? “What do I—?” she started to say, but the Wandwright brought one finger to her lips. Asking wasn’t allowed, then.
Belisanne started to walk around the tree stump toward Holly, and something told Holly that she should walk too. The two of them remained opposite each other, like spokes on a wheel. Holly gazed into the flames. Áedán’s sticky feet clung to her neck. How had she called him out of his fire? She had just listened to it; she’d heard a song. The moment the memory crossed her mind, she heard another song.
She was quite sure the song was not in the air, but in her mind. Or in her body. That tugging, simmering part of her that called to her wand, crackled in her rib cage. Then she knew what she had to do next, as if the unborn wand itself was telling her.
Cradling the switch and the pouch of herbs in her left palm, she opened the drawstring with her right hand. She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the sprigs she had collected: the holly. She continued to walk clockwise around the circle, the Wandwright visible through the flames. Holly took a breath and cast the green sprig into the fire.
The flames shot into the air. They broke through the crown of the trees in a burst of red and orange. She waited for the trees to catch fire, but of course they didn’t.
“Holly branch of Deas, grant this Adept protection on her journeys,” the Wandwright chanted.
Holly reached again into the pouch. She drew out another sprig and cast it into the fire.
A shower of blue sparks erupted, illuminating the glade like moonlight. “Heather of the Iar, grant this Adept the good fortune that is thy province,” chanted the Lady.
Holly closed her eyes, her fingers plying the bag until they closed on another leafy branch. As it fell into the fire, the flames burst forth again, deep green like a pine forest.
“Mugwort of the Tuath, grant this Adept the Sight of the mind that is thy power,” said the Wandwright.
Nearly done. Sweat trickled down Holly’s neck. She reached for the last time into the pouch and drew out the final plant. She cast it.
“Elf leaf of the Airt, grant this Adept the love and peace that are thy gifts.”
The flame shot up once more, this time bright yellow. Holly let out a deep breath. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
She stopped walking. The Wandwright stopped opposite her, and the fire calmed, burning very bright but low upon the tree stump. The logs looked untouched, but the stump itself was turning white, like ash. Holly winced as the Wandwright reached a hand directly into the flames. Resting in her open palm was a single purple stone. Holly laid the switch from the Redwood tree in the Wandwright’s hand.
As soon as the Redwood branch connected the two of them, Belisanne withdrew and let it fall into the flames, along with the stone. Holly let go too, still clutching the empty silk pouch.
“Now call to the Aethyr!” The Lady threw her head back, her arms open to the sky. “Call to the Aethyr to forge the Wand of the Adept!”
The fire between them gathered itself into a ball. It writhed like a great cat in front of Holly, its haunches bunching, and then it leaped forth with a roar.
Holly skipped back against the trees. The fireball exploded, licking around the circle. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to run. Áedán huddled close to her neck. The inferno poured over her body like a hot shower, licking through her insides and out her eyes, but still she kept them tightly shut. She could feel it coming now: the most difficult and painful part of the ritual.
The Aethyr, whatever that was, circled her like a whirlwind and churned inside her head. It was a little like when the Wandwright had entered her mind: Her thoughts opened, then poured forth unbidden, uncontrolled. But they weren’t pictures of her world. They were pictures of her, of all the things she wished she could forget: her third-grade teacher scolding her for drawing on another student’s paper; her mother’s disappointed face as she perused Holly’s grade card; a group of the more popular girls huddled together and whispering as she passed them on the playground; and worst of all, her fingers brushing Ben’s little white hands as Fleetwing swung her away from the castle and she fell to the earth, having failed to save him.
All that she could not be, had never been, welled up inside her.
The glow in her heart cooled, growing dim.
And then Holly fought back.
She thought of how her father had framed one of her drawings and hung it in his office; how one of the fourth-grade teacher’s aides had called her a “creative soul”; how good it felt to make the long journey to the Wandwright’s home, to free Áedán and save Jade from the knights; the wonder of holding the key, and then the wand, in her hand, and how it spoke to her heart and received a reply.
The fire within her glowed fiercely and she opened her eyes, tears streaming out. She was aglow, bright and hot, even strong and firm. But opposite her, Belisanne’s dress billowed in the updraft. The flames licked up her torso; her arms glowed white with heat. Her voice rose in pain.
The Wandwright was burning.
Chapter 35
* * *
The Unlocking Spell
Holly screamed.
She couldn’t see the Wandwright anymore, just a tall, humanoid form wrapped in fire. A moment later Belisanne’s limbs melded into a white column of light. Holly looked away. The inferno sputtered out. The beam of light solidified into the Wandwright herself, alive and whole, standing between Holly and the tree stump.
“You have done well, Lady Adept. Retrieve your wand.”
Belisanne stood aside and Holly saw a thin stick floating a few inches above the tree stump.
“Is that . . . Is it really mine?”
Holly grasped the wand by its broad end. The wood was a deep red, like the Redwood tree, and the handle was thick and curved to fit her hand comfortably. Set into its base was a round, violet stone that nestled into her palm. Carvings decorated the shaft, runes and pictures of circling flames, stars, and planets. The longer she gazed at it, the more pictures she saw, and the more real they became.
“Take care, my lady. It is untamed,” said Belisanne softly. “Time grows short. Are you ready to begin your training?”
Holly glanced up at Belisanne’s unchanging porcelain face. “Yes. I’m ready.”
Almaric rose from his chair in the back garden as Holly and Belisanne approached. Holly smiled and held out the wand. The others crowded around to see, exclaiming over Holly’s skill and the wand’s beauty.
“It is exquisitely crafted,” Almaric said. “Lady Belisanne, what are its properties?”
“It is forged from the Redwood tree and the holly, which offer protection. From the mugwort, to grant the Sight. The heather, for strength of mind. The elf leaf, for she will bring peace. And finally, the amethyst stone, to give her authority and connection to all living creatures.”
The little group fell quiet.
“And what of the Adept’s training?” Jade asked at last.
“We must not mistake the king’s might,” said Ranulf. “Neither Fleetwing nor I was able to deter his knights for long. Her Ladyship must make a show of strength. If she were taught the Banishment—”
Jade glanced up at the centaur. “The Banishment is beyond Her Ladyship’s powers. She is not of our world. She has not the elemental connection to secure the spell be permanent.”
“Wait,” said Holly. “The Banishment—that’s what Bittenbender was talking about the other day. What is it?”
Almaric patted a chair for her to sit in. “ ’Tis a most powerful spell, my lady. It was used in days past to rid the land of evil. But Jade speaks rightly. It is not for our purposes.”
Ranulf pawed the ground. “But H
er Ladyship could free us from the king—or even Raethius himself.”
Holly felt the blood drain from her face. “You mean the Sorcerer.”
“The very one, Lady Holly.”
“If I could . . . ” Holly’s mind wandered for a moment. She saw herself in a scarlet cloak, her wand raised. Facing her was the thin, hooded figure of Raethius as she had seen him in the vision she had shared with the Wandwright. At her words the Sorcerer dissolved into mist with a shriek. Every creature in Anglielle clustered around her, their eyes round and voices hushed.
“But you cannot,” said Jade flatly.
“Someday, perhaps, Lady Holly,” said Almaric. “For now, Raethius is unimportant.”
“Unimportant!” snorted the centaur.
Almaric ignored him. “A useful variant is called the Vanishment. It would serve to transport you and the others away from the king’s castle to the forest, whence you can return to your own land.”
“A tall enough order,” Jade muttered.
A stirring of worry tugged at Holly. “Why? Is the—the Vanishment very advanced?”
“It is one of the more challenging spells,” Almaric admitted, but then brightened. “But quite up to Your Ladyship’s skills. For most Adepts, it takes a week, even a fortnight, of practice to learn. But I’m sure you could easily master it in four or five days.”
“But we don’t have four days!” said Holly, her heart quickening.
“Do we not?” The magician looked flustered. “I was sure the tournament was . . . ”
“The day after tomorrow,” Holly said. “Ranulf, how will we get back in time?”
The centaur shifted from hoof to hoof. “ ’Twill be a hard journey, even if we depart at daybreak,” he admitted. “We must collapse a two-day journey into one.”
“And the boys’ time is running out,” said Holly. “We should leave now, before it’s too late.”
“But when will you learn the Vanishment, my lady? The Wandwright’s knowledge would be valuable in your training,” Almaric said.
“I don’t know, I can’t . . . ” How could she take precious time trying to learn a spell that was probably too hard for her anyway? She clutched her wand, which felt so warm and easy in her hand. This was hers, she had proven herself worthy of it; it couldn’t all be for nothing. It was a part of her, even more so than the one Mr. Gallaway had given her.
Mr. Gallaway.
“Keys are for unlocking things,” she murmured to herself.
Jade and the others exchanged glances. “My lady?” said Almaric.
“Keys are for unlocking things,” she repeated, getting excited and talking too fast for them to understand. “My wand—it used to be a key. That’s what it was good at, that’s what I was good at—unlocking things, like the oak tree, and the veil at Darton Castle, and the prince’s language. I didn’t even have to try!”
Ranulf, Almaric, and Jade all looked bewildered, but the Wandwright nodded. She went to her sideboard and pulled out a small iron chest. It had a keyhole in the center. The Wandwright tried to pry open the chest, but the lid wouldn’t budge. She gestured to Holly.
Holly swallowed and took a deep breath. She gripped the handle of her wand, the cold amethyst stone smooth against her palm; then it pulsed warm, greeting her. She felt her core of energy respond. She pointed the wand at the keyhole and closed her eyes, focusing, seeing it open. A word flashed into her mind and she uttered it.
“Osclaígí!”
She heard a click and opened her eyes. The clasp of the lid on the chest had popped open—it had actually worked! Holly grinned at Almaric, who gaped at her.
“This wand knows you, my lady,” he said finally, sounding proud. “Even better than the old. Why, you could not open my own cottage door not two days gone!”
“The wand forged by an Adept is her strongest weapon,” said the Wandwright. “And this lady, while of Anglielle, has forgotten our ways, and needed time to recall them.”
“And how is it that you know the Old Tongues as well?” asked Ranulf.
“I don’t even know what I said, or where that came from,” Holly admitted. “But you see what this means? I won’t have to do the Vanishment, Almaric! All I have to do is open their cell or dungeon or whatever. That’s got to be easier, right?”
It was a moment before anyone spoke. “Her Ladyship would have to enter the castle itself,” Ranulf said uncertainly.
“It would be a great risk,” Jade agreed.
“But I could do it,” Holly went on. “All those knights will be there for the tournament, and they’ll all have squires, right? If I just blended in—”
“The castle guards will surely not know every squire,” Almaric said.
“And I’ll just slip in like one of them, find the boys—”
“Spring them from their prison—”
“And lead them out how, exactly?” Jade broke in.
“I’ll need help,” Holly said, her mind brimming with plans. “Ranulf, could you get some of the Exiles together again? All they’d have to do is keep the knights busy while I got the boys to the woods. We could ride from there on a horse, if we could find one—”
“You shall have mine, Lady Adept.”
Everyone had quite forgotten the Wandwright, who closed the lid of the little iron chest with a satisfying click. “You will take two of my own mounts, who are faster than the wind itself. They will aid you in your journey back to the Elm this day, and they will guide you and your charges to your portal in the Northern Wood as well.”
Holly broke into a smile. Her plan was going to work. “Thank you, my lady. We can do it, Ranulf, can’t we?”
“Of course,” Almaric answered for him, but the centaur measured his words after a moment’s thought. “We shall need the Exiles, my lady, as many as we can find. Their allegiance will be difficult to acquire, but in light of recent events . . . ” Ranulf smiled at the wand in Holly’s hand. “They may be easier to convince than I had feared.”
Chapter 36
* * *
Message from the Dvergar
While Ranulf and Almaric gathered supplies, the Wandwright brought two squat, white horses to Holly’s side from somewhere behind the cottage. “Trust these horses to find the safest path to the Northern Wood,” she said. “They will return of their own accord. And one more thing you require, my lady.” She fastened a thin leather belt around Holly’s waist. A finger-shaped pouch hung below it. “An Adept’s wand must have a proper scabbard.”
Holly blushed, suddenly shy. What could she say to this lady? “I wish I knew how to thank you. There’s no way I could save Ben and Everett, or take us home, without your help,” she said.
“It is I who should thank you, Lady Adept,” said Lady Belisanne in her cool, studied voice. “It is many an age since I have plied my trade, and I am gladdened to do so again.”
Holly thought of the iron chest she had unlocked. “I didn’t get to see what you keep in that box,” she said.
The Wandwright lowered her eyelashes and nearly smiled. “No, Lady Holly. That is for another time.”
The white horses bowed to allow Almaric and Holly to climb up on them. Jade leaped up to sit directly in front of Holly, and Áedán nestled against her shoulder.
The Wandwright laid her cool palm against Holly’s cheek. “Farewell, Lady Adept. Use your tools wisely.”
The Wandwright inclined her head, turned, and walked back into her cottage. At once the little house seemed to fade. The flowers turned dun-colored against the moor; after a moment, they were hardly noticeable, shaded despite the sun. The little group turned toward home and left the Wandwright behind them.
—
Belisanne’s horses, like Ranulf, did not tire easily. Although the hills were hard climbing, they galloped across the open moorland. They camped a few hours’ ride from the Elm, and by midmorning the next day, they had arrived back at Almaric’s cottage.
Holly spent hours practicing her spell again, using as many diffe
rent locks as Almaric could produce. She had only one day left before the tournament and she was determined not to waste it.
“Only take care, my lady,” said Almaric, as Holly unlocked his bedroom door. She turned the latch and immediately tried again with her wand, but her head was spinning and the lock held fast. “Doing spells depletes your resources. They cannot be repeated a moment later without great risk.” He leaned forward, catching her arm before she stumbled.
“You mean like draining a battery?” Holly sank onto the little bed and put her head between her knees. The dizziness eased.
“Er . . . if you say so, my lady.” The magician tilted his head to see her face. “Is this posture helpful?”
“Her Ladyship has many unusual habits, whether or not they be helpful,” Jade observed from the windowsill.
“I just need to get this right,” Holly said crossly. “If I don’t, the three of us will be lucky not to be killed on the spot.”
“Skill is required, but also patience,” Almaric said. “And there is another consideration that the Wandwright failed to mention.”
“Oh, great,” Holly said. “Now what?”
Almaric sat beside her. “Your kinsman, Lady Holly, will be fast in the tower. This much we know. The door will prove easy for you. But . . . ”
“But?”
He smiled nervously. “If the lads are chained, the matter is a bit more tricky. I wouldn’t advise you to try breaking manacle locks.”
“Why? What’s the difference?”
“Please don’t misunderstand me.” Almaric patted her hand. “You are a most apt student. But your power is still unfocused. It takes a great deal of skill to dissolve the locks of an iron bracelet without . . . that is . . . ”
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