Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages)

by Austin J. Bailey

  Brinley looked hurt. “It’s not my fault,” she said defensively.

  “Maybe not,” Tabitha agreed. “Still,” she sighed, “I liked it better when there were boys around here. Now it’s just us.”

  Brinley tried to smile, but her eyes fell on the Panthion and her face fell. “They’ll be back,” she forced out.

  “You really think so?”

  Brinley turned to her friend suddenly and squeezed her hand. “Yes,” she said fiercely. “I really do.”

  Chapter Three

  In which the boys concoct a not-so-brilliant plan

  The slap of soft leather on iron echoed through the cavernous gray chamber as Hugo descended what seemed like an endless spiral staircase. There was nothing but charcoal darkness all around; the sound of his boots echoed and the faint tap of dripping water sounded somewhere in the distance. The bottom of the staircase—if there was one—was shrouded in mist. Above him, darkness stretched for what seemed like miles beyond the small gray platform on which he had landed after falling into the Panthion.

  The Panthion. A prison box built by the mages to hold their greatest enemy. Now it was Hugo’s prison too. What had possessed him to come in here? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Necessary. Heroic, even. Now it seemed poignantly stupid. There was no doubt in his mind as to what lay ahead. The only other inhabitant of this prison (as far as he knew) was Shael. Days ago, he would have done anything to avoid a confrontation with Shael. Now he found himself marching straight toward one.

  On the bright side, what had seemed like a very small box from without was proving to be immense. Maybe he could avoid a face-to-face meeting for longer than he thought—if he could keep the dark force in his mind from taking control of him, that is. Molad, as Hugo had named him, was his dark side. Hugo the light, Molad the dark. Together, they were the Mage of Light and Darkness. It had seemed like a dream come true when Brinley had made him a mage. Now, with his mind divided between two personalities and his soul hanging in the balance, his new calling wasn’t as much fun as he had anticipated. What with the fate of the world hanging over his head all the time, he’d had very little time to relax since taking on this new role. If he failed to bring the two sides of himself under control, the balance of light and dark in the whole world would be broken. Shael would reign, Hugo’s friends would die, and evil would prevail.

  No pressure.

  Hugo’s boot struck soft earth and he stumbled. He had been stepping through the fog for so long that he had almost forgotten that the staircase would have to end eventually. He bent, reached through the fog at his feet, and felt around to make sure that it was really the ground he was standing on. It seemed to be, and yet there was another staircase to his right, leading farther down. He attempted to search the darkness with his mind, but it seemed oddly out of reach. No doubt the Panthion was interfering with his powers somehow. He had half expected that. He made a greater effort and found that he could just touch the faint fabric of light that ran through everything. He thought about moving through it, seeing where it took him, and Molad lurched inside his mind, trying to seize control.

  Hugo held his breath, trying to regain focus. It was always easier to gain control over Molad when he was focused. He closed his eyes and heard the faint dripping sound again.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  He focused on it until he could hear nothing else, think of nothing else, and his mind was his own again. Lesson learned: he was not going to be able to use his powers inside the Panthion. Not that that was a big surprise. He had expected that it would be difficult to keep Molad in check in such close proximity to Shael.

  He struck out on a path toward the fog bank before him and discovered that it was actually a little hill. The ground rose before him and he followed it up, and when he reached the top he saw a wide, dimly lit valley with a river running through it. A walled city filled the center of the valley. Thatched-roof homes sprawled across it in random patches, interspersed with ramshackle buildings and tiny, winding streets. In the middle of it all, an imposing fortress towered above the rest, with spiny towers, thick battlements, and sharply slanted slate roofs overlooking the city on one side and the river on the other. The fortress was so tall that its great black spires seemed to meld with the sky.

  The vaulted lid of the Panthion was unlike any other sky. It was a vast, intricate canvas of wheels and cogs, gears and levers—a cosmic mechanism. Hugo realized that he was looking at the underside of the lock that was keeping him a prisoner.

  He glanced back at the tower that connected ground to sky, and decided that if there was a way out, that would surely be it. He wished that it were not nestled in the very heart of Shael’s defenses.

  The creature in his mind twitched again. Yes, Molad said triumphantly. Yes! Go down. We are here at last!

  “Quiet, Molad,” Hugo muttered aloud, kneading his temple in a circular motion. He leaned against a nearby tree to rest. The tree was black and looked dead, with one branch deader than the rest. After a moment, he turned his back to the city and walked down the bank in the direction that he had come, toward the staircases.

  Wait! Molad said, throwing his weight against Hugo’s mind and struggling to take control of their body again. Where are you taking us? We’re so close!

  “Exactly,” Hugo said. He stumbled and wrenched the mental reins back from his darker half. “Too close. You can’t expect me to walk willingly into death.”

  Molad muttered and retreated. He was biding his time, Hugo knew, for a moment when Hugo was less prepared to oppose his will. It had happened too many times now, Molad taking over. Hugo was sick and tired of reemerging out of the silent prison in his mind to discover that his dark side had done something wretched.

  He took the next staircase down and found that it was at least as long as the last, with rickety iron steps appearing out of the fog at the same moment that his feet found them. He should have been underground by now, so why the fog? A breeze brushed his hair and parted the mist, briefly revealing the emptiness that engulfed him. There was a slab of ground beneath him, arcing away from the staircase, but there was another staircase beside this one, leading even farther down. What was this place?

  Magic, obviously. He shook his head, trying and failing to make sense of it. There was a tree here too, remarkably like the one he had seen before. No, exactly like the one before. It had the same dead branch. He tore his gaze from it and ran back in a panic. It was an absurd idea. He looked up at the spiral staircase he had descended and down to the untouched set to the right. He had come down, hadn’t he? The ground he was on last time should be up there, but here it was again. He shook his head and took the new set of stairs down.

  When he reached the ground at the bottom he didn’t bother looking, he just started down the next staircase. He did this twice more, and then finally struck out over the now familiar rise of earth to look over the city again. The same black tree stood beside him, the same dead branch.

  “Curses,” Hugo muttered.

  Ha! Molad chortled jubilantly. You see? Our fate cannot be avoided. I don’t even need to force us there. There is nowhere else to go!

  We can stay right here, Hugo thought back, folding his arms stubbornly and leaning against the tree. We can stay right here and let him come out and hunt us down if he wants. I refuse to walk right into his arms. His hand dropped to the empty scabbard at his side and he wished bitterly for his sword. No doubt it would be worthless against Shael, but he felt naked wandering around in enemy territory unarmed.

  He slid to the ground. His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he had eaten? Probably a day, at least. He wondered if he stayed here, whether he would starve to death before someone came to break him out of the Panthion.

  Get up, Molad said restlessly. You can’t just wait around for someone to save your skin.

  Hugo sighed. Molad was right, of course. There was no use trying to avoid it. His time had come. He just wished that he was better prepared. H
ow was he going to keep Molad in check when he was face to face with Shael? Molad and Shael would be happy companions in bringing darkness to the world of Aberdeen, and all that stood between their union was Hugo’s strength of will.

  “Fine,” Hugo said. “We’ll go. We have to eat, anyway. But we’re not going like this. I don’t want you getting too excited.”

  What are you talking about? Molad said.

  “You’ll see,” Hugo said. Or rather, you won’t see, he thought, chuckling to himself. He threw his weight against the dead branch and then pulled back; it broke off in his hands.

  What are you doing? Molad asked, but Hugo ignored him. He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, folded it in half diagonally, then rolled it up and tied it around his head, covering his eyes.

  You think this is going to protect you from me? Molad said. The darkness in this place will lend me power whether I see it or not.

  “Maybe so,” Hugo said, but he did not remove the blindfold. He was determined to test whether removing certain stimuli from Molad’s experience made him less powerful. It would also help Hugo remember that he had to stay in control. So far, distractions had helped Molad to take control. Maybe this would help Hugo focus. Bending down, he felt around for the branch that he had broken and then straightened up and began to make his way slowly down the sloping hill, moving the stick along the ground before him to check for uneven surfaces. It was much more difficult than he had anticipated, and he tripped over a rock within a few steps, tumbling down the hill before he caught himself.

  “Oof!”

  Molad laughed. I may not win after all, he said. At this rate, you may stumble down some farmer’s well and kill us both.

  Or just you, Hugo said darkly. If I’m lucky.

  ***

  An hour and a half after Hugo tied the handkerchief around his head, he had, with a great deal of luck, made it to the gates of the city unharmed. There had been one frightening moment when he had stumbled over what felt (and sounded) like a sheep, and after that, what must have been a geriatric shepherd chased him for a while, but since this had caused him to stumble onto what later turned out to be the main road, he couldn’t complain.

  “He’s a bit young to be blind,” a rough voice grunted from somewhere up ahead.

  “Ah, he’s not blind,” another voice said. “Leastways he hasn’t been for long, if he isn’t faking. Look at him stumble about.”

  “You there,” the first voice said more loudly, and Hugo felt his shoulder being prodded with something cold and hard. “What is your business in the city of Shael? When did you enter the Panthion?”

  “Uh,” Hugo said, adjusting the corner of his blindfold so that he could just see the gray boots of the two gate guards. “I’ve, uh, been here for years.”

  “Oh?” the second voice said skeptically. “What’s my name, then?”

  Hugo chose his words carefully. He could tell that this second guard was the smarter one. “I don’t think that we’ve been introduced.”

  “Bah! I’ve never even seen you before, boy. Sherzerad’s my name, which you’d know if you had lived here for more than a minute. The Eye, they call me, because I see everything. I know every pimple-faced scum your age, and there’s not a blind one among them. Let’s see him then, Private,” he said to the other guard, and Hugo felt a gauntleted hand tugging at the handkerchief.

  “I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Hugo said, and he lifted the blindfold slowly, careful to keep his eyes shut. After a moment of silence, he risked a tiny peek.

  The two gate guards were standing before him, and he was surprised to see that they were not men. What they were, he did not have a name for, something between bird and beast, with strong muscles under short, oily black feathers. They stood on their hind legs in a manlike fashion, but they were definitely not human. Their faces were hidden behind pointed black helmets, for which Hugo was grateful. Just the sight of them made Molad twitch with excitement.

  “Very well,” Sherzerad said abruptly. “On you go, then.”

  “But, Major—” the other guard said.

  “Quiet,” Sherzerad snapped. “These orders come straight from the top. This one has clear passage all the way to the throne room. I recognize him now. Been expecting him. Dignitary from off-world, you know. In fact…” Hugo heard him slap the other guard on the back with his mailed hand. “You can escort him yourself.”

  The guard stumbled forward, nearly knocking Hugo over. “Yes, sir,” he stammered.

  Hugo fastened the blindfold back in place and stepped toward the gate. To his horror, the soldier actually took his arm to help him walk. When they touched, Molad surged forward with new hope, attempting to escape his mental prison.

  “No, thank you,” Hugo said, gritting his teeth and ripping his arm away from the soldier. He couldn’t believe that such a small thing could have so great an effect on Molad. The creatures must have been covered in some kind of residual darkness to elicit such a response from him.

  “As you wish,” the soldier said. “You can go at your own pace, but I’ll be right here beside you.”

  Hugo fell into stride beside the soldier and nearly tripped as the ground suddenly sloped upward. He pushed Molad’s restlessness into the corner of his awareness and focused on the ground beneath his feet, the sound of people shuffling by, the smell of food when a door opened. He slid his makeshift cane back and forth before him, occasionally brushing the leg of the soldier to keep himself going straight.

  “This way,” the soldier said from his right, and Hugo realized that they must be turning down a different street.

  “Where did all these people come from?” Hugo asked. “I thought this place was Shael’s prison.”

  “Eh?” He sounded anxious. “Prison? No. This is Lord Shael’s kingdom. Those of us who have come to join him,” he said in a tone that made Hugo imagine him puffing out his chest proudly, “are those brave enough to join him in his exile—eh…as he waits, I mean. Yes, that’s what I mean. Join him as he waits, for the, uh, right time to return to power.”

  “I see,” Hugo said, though he didn’t really. Why would a person volunteer to spend his life in exile with Shael?

  “My own family’s been in here for three generations now,” he went on proudly. “My son will be the fourth. Can you believe that? Four generations of service. There aren’t many in here who can say that of their family name. You might mention it to Shael when you see him. Kurg’s my name. Daemon Kurg.”

  “I’ll do that,” Hugo said, just to shut the man up. “How much longer till we’re there?”

  “Oh, nearly there, nearly there,” the soldier said. “Oh, hold up a minute, uh, if you don’t mind, sir. I’ve just seen a comrade of mine.”

  Hugo bumped into the soldier as he stopped abruptly. Resisting the urge to peek under the blindfold, he took a step back, folded his arms, and leaned on one foot awkwardly, trying to look casual. He felt like an idiot.

  “Ho there, Burg!” the soldier said beside him. “Look what I’ve got here. A dignitary, if you please, and the Eye himself gave me the job of taking him right to the throne room. Say, who’s that with you?”

  “Why, it’s a dignitary of my own, Kurg. Can’t you tell?”

  Hugo heard the other soldier shuffle up next to them and whisper, “Say, Kurg, what is a dignitary, anyhow? Some sort of wizard?”

  “It’s an important person, you dolt!” a scathing voice said right next to Hugo. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized it. “In my case, a prince. And this here is my brother, the king.”

  Hugo felt Cannon take his arm and lead him a few steps down the street. “No, don’t follow us,” Cannon said imperiously. “We can make it the rest of the way by ourselves. And we’ll be sure to mention you to Lord Shael when we’re having tea and cake with him later.”

  Hugo tried not to laugh. Cannon forced him briskly down the path and he heard one of the soldiers (he couldn’t tell which) say, “Cake! Did you hear that? Imagine! Cake with
Lord Shael.”

  “What are you doing here?” Hugo said, grinning.

  “Making a big mistake, no doubt,” Cannon returned, jostling his arm meaningfully. “More specifically, I’ve come to help you break out of this place.”

  “That’s excellent news,” Hugo said, tripping as the ground veered suddenly upward.

  Cannon tugged at Hugo’s blindfold. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing over your eyes?”

  “Don’t,” Hugo snapped, smacking his hand away. “It helps keep me focused. The less Molad sees, the better. Ouch!” Hugo struck his leg against something hard and Cannon pulled him sharply onto a different path. Immediately, he struck his head on something that felt suspiciously like an open window shutter. “Ouch!” he barked again.

  “Yes, well,” Cannon said, “the blindfold seems a bit stupid to me, for obvious reasons. Is it working?”

  “Yes, actually,” Hugo growled. “But it worked better when you weren’t ramming me into things.” Cannon turned him down two more streets and then led him up a narrow staircase into a cool, shady sort of place.

  “I think you’re going to have to take it off now,” Cannon said. “We need to make a plan. Don’t worry, I’ll knock you out if you go crazy.”

  “Excellent,” Hugo said with a sigh, remembering the last several times this had happened in the past few weeks. He removed the blindfold and opened his eyes carefully. They were standing under what looked like an inner-city bridge, huddled behind a stone barrier that hid them from view. Cannon seemed remarkably cheerful given their circumstances, and somehow managed to appear dignified in what looked like a filthy farmer’s shirt, which he had probably stolen from some poor farmer’s wash bucket.

  “Put this on,” Cannon said, handing him a similar shirt. “I stole them from some poor farmer’s wash bucket. I would have taken a clean one from the line, but they were sopping wet. Nasty, to be sure, but it’s worth it if it will help us go unnoticed.”