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

by Austin J. Bailey

  “No.”

  “You never know,” Hugo said, yawning. “Lashé could turn out to be just what he says. Might even break us out of here and everything.”

  “Right,” Cannon said sleepily. “Could be.”

  “Cannon?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t eat any apples tomorrow.”

  Cannon grunted something unintelligible and rolled over, leaving Hugo alone to ponder on the mystery of their newfound comrade.

  After a while, Hugo took the smooth black stone out and pressed it against his forehead. A moment later, he was back in the lightfall with Brinley.

  He told her about his day, and she had very little to say about it, but she nodded in the right places, so he kept talking. He knew she couldn’t be real, that it wasn’t really Brinley that he was talking to, and he tried to make himself stop, tried to tell himself that it was silly, but it felt good to be with her. Finally, when he had run out of words, he said the thing that he had been wanting to say the whole time.

  “Can you show me that peace again?”

  She took his hand and led him into the light.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In which there is a disconcerting bucket

  Daren and Shar were so pleased when Tabitha came out of the river alive that they insisted on riding with her the whole way back to Ninebridge. At first, Chantra wanted to move on and leave the little band of wagons behind, but Tabitha was determined to see that they made it safely into the city. The journey took the remainder of the day, so when they finally came over the bridge from Garra, the sun was setting on the city of Ninebridge.

  As the veil of mist parted before her eyes at the top of the bridge, Tabitha gasped at the sight below her. In the one day that she had been gone, Ninebridge had completely changed.

  The east side of the city was a mess of sprawling tents and caravans. Thousands of people had come from every corner of the world. Sharp rows of tents were packed tightly together in a wide ring around the right half of the city, and each group seemed to have its own color and flag. Those ones belonged to soldiers. She could see Aquilar’s army in a sea of green tents nearest her, and the Gnome King Thieutukar Manisse was surely with the neatly packed group of squat brown tents that looked too small for a grown man to fit in.

  “So many,” she whispered.

  Chantra whistled in agreement. “The more the merrier, if we really are going to have to fight an army of monsters from the Wizard’s Ire.”

  “There’s Sir Drake,” Daren said, pointing at a group of blue and white tents to their right. “He’s really come to fight, just like Dad said.”

  “Is this going to be the end?” Shar asked, looking up at Tabitha. At the worry in her voice, Tabitha changed into a butterfly and landed on her nose. Then she turned back into herself and the children laughed.

  “No, Shar,” she said, taking the girl’s hand. “This won’t be the end. Brinley—she’s the Magemother—has a plan, and I am sure that it will work wonderfully.”

  “Told you so,” Daren said, elbowing his sister in the ribs.

  “What plan?” Shar asked. “How is she going to save us? It’s the mages who have all the power, isn’t it?”

  “Brinley’s power is different,” Tabitha said. “She knows things about the mages, things about the whole world, really. Sometimes she just knows how to help them. She knows what they need. Sometimes she knows what we all need.”

  “Like now?”

  “Like now.”

  “And what is it? What is she going to do?”

  “Something wonderful. You’ll see.” Tabitha said. “She is going to keep us safe.

  ***

  At the bottom of the bridge, Tabitha and Chantra bid their little caravan farewell and headed for the center of the city. There were more people than Tabitha had ever seen in one place before. Soon it became difficult to move, and she had to grab ahold of Chantra’s arm to keep from being separated from her.

  “I don’t like this,” Tabitha said. She had never felt very comfortable around people in general, and this was far, far too many people for her liking.

  For some reason, people did not seem to like the fact that they were pressing their way through, and after a moment they realized why. What they had taken for a simple crowd was actually a line. Whole families, extended families, and villages were standing together, but what they were waiting for, Tabitha didn’t know. Unless…

  “Habis!” she shouted as the end of the line came into sight.

  There, at the center of it all, Habis sat beneath a white pavilion, with one of the king’s personal guards on either side of her. There was a large black cauldron at her feet, which was full of a thick copper-colored liquid that bubbled softly.

  “Yes, yes,” Habis mumbled without looking up. “Next.”

  “Habis, it’s us!” Chantra said, snapping her fingers in front of the witch’s face.

  She glanced up from the cauldron and squinted at them. “Ah! Good. Come stir this.”

  Chantra took the long wooden stick from her and continued to move it in gentle, clockwise circles, and Habis collapsed on a nearby stool.

  “Phew!” she said. “I’ve been at this almost since you left. Has to be stirred constantly, you know. And with the amount of people we are binding to the enchantment…” She shook her head. “But no matter. I’ll finish if it kills me. Give that back now, Chantra. Have you been taking your medicine?”

  Chantra grunted something incoherent.

  “Probably dumped it out the moment you were out of my sight. No appreciation.” She rolled her shoulders, pointed her wooden spoon at the next person in line, and barked, “NEXT! Come on now, haven’t got all day!”

  A mother pushed her two small children up to the cauldron, and Habis said, “A hair apiece into the mix. Little ones too.”

  The mother plucked one of her own hairs out and dropped it over the cauldron. Quick as a flash, Habis snatched it out of the air and threw it on the ground. “Not like that! Wash first. Wash, wash. Clean hands make a clean potion.” She indicated the bucket of water beside the cauldron and the woman plunged her hands into it, scrubbing furiously. When she was finished, she plucked another hair from her own head and dropped it in. The bubbling mixture burped softly, and she turned to her children. The boy gave a hair up easily, but the little girl cried and guarded her braid.

  “Come on now, missy,” Habis said. “Better to have a hair plucked off by your mom than your head plucked off by a troll.”

  The girl yelped in fright and tried to run, but her mother restrained her. She was about to yank out a fistful of hair when Habis said, “Stop, stop. Just drop one of those tears in here instead.”

  The woman complied and then gave Habis a scathing look as she left. Habis didn’t seem to notice. She just rapped the cauldron with her wooden spoon again and shouted, “NEXT! Come on, people. Quicker than this! QUICKER. THAN. THIS!”

  The line began to move again, and Tabitha watched in fascination as person after person came up to the cauldron, dropped a hair in the mixture (after washing their hands), and hurried away.

  “The spell requires a bit of the person’s essence,” Habis explained. “Hair is easiest, but anything will do, really. I’d have had this done in an hour if I could send a hundred soldiers through this crowd with scissors and boxes, but the spell requires the person to drop it in themselves.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’ve got only hours left.”

  An elderly man walked up and rubbed the top of his bald head anxiously.

  “Spit,” Habis commanded.

  The man glanced from Habis to Tabitha to Chantra, then spat into the cauldron and hurried away blushing.

  Tabitha gawked at Habis. “I thought you said you needed a clean potion.” She gestured at the place where the man’s saliva had disappeared, and Habis slapped her hand away. “Don’t tell me how to do my job,” she snapped. “If you want to be helpful, go pump me a clean bucket of wash water.” She turned back to
the crowd and scowled at them. “Quicker than this, people! QUICKER. THAN. THIS!”

  Tabitha snapped into action, eager to avoid more shouts from Habis. She upended the bucket to dump the dirty water, then sprinted to the nearest pump. She began to work the handle of the pump, which was attached by a long hose to the river somewhere. With so many people living in the valley now, they had apparently found it necessary to make water more accessible.

  After a few seconds of pumping, the bucket was half full. She glanced into it then, and screamed. Fitz’s head, half solid, half liquid, floated in the bucket, his hair fanned out like a floating corpse. He winked at her.

  “Hello, Tabitha,” he said.

  “Fitz!” she exclaimed. “What is your head doing in Habis’s bucket?”

  “I know,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed, “not very classy, but I had to contact you at once, and this seemed the best way. We have found the naptrap.”

  “You what?” Tabitha cried, nearly dumping Fitz onto the grass in her excitement. “Oh! Sorry.”

  “Yes,” he said, his face sloshing around a bit. “A nymph named—well, no matter about his name—spotted it dangling from a woman’s neck as she bathed in a river. She wears it like a necklace, on a simple strand of twine.”

  “Who?” Tabitha said. “Where is she?”

  Fitz’s eyes went wide. “None other than the witch, March, Tabitha. And she is on her way to you as we speak!”

  Tabitha stared into the bucket, stunned. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “March bathes? I mean—she had the naptrap this whole time? But how?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Fitz said. “Go, Tabitha, retrieve it. Fulfill the promise that you made to the three queens!” With that, his head dissolved into the water again and she watched as he slipped up the nozzle of the pump. Tabitha left the bucket where it lay and ran.

  “Where’s my bucket?” Habis demanded crossly when Tabitha emerged, panting. She didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed Chantra’s arm and dragged her toward the center of the city.

  “Ouch! Tabitha. What are you doing?”

  “March is coming!” Tabitha shrieked, bubbling with excitement and terror all at once. “She has the naptrap. We have to save Brinley’s mother!”

  Just then, a booming sound rent the air above them. They looked up just in time to see the giant red head of a dragon emerge from the mist at the top of the bridge to Hesh. A short, dark figure sat upon his back. The dragon gave a mighty roar and filled the air with fire. The crowd screamed and scattered, but the dragon didn’t even glance down. He shot straight across the center of the city and over to the bridge on the other side, disappearing into the mist at the top of it.

  At his sudden disappearance, the screams from the crowd died out awkwardly, leaving a strained silence in their wake.

  Habis was the first to break it. “WELL, DON’T JUST STAND THERE! MOVE IT, PEOPLE!” she shouted, clanging her spoon against the cauldron several times.

  Chantra snapped into action and grabbed Tabitha’s arm, startling her out of a temporary trance. “That was the bridge to the Magisterium,” she said. “Come on! Let’s go after him!”

  She hopped onto Tabitha’s back and Tabitha yelped and stumbled forward painfully.

  “Argh!” Chantra said, bouncing up and down. “Come on, Tabitha, let’s GO!”

  “Right,” Tabitha said, shaking her head several times. “I forgot.”

  A split second later, Tabitha’s body erupted outward in all directions and Chantra was clinging to the back of a giant white dragon. Tabitha let out a roar and leapt into the air, speeding off to the bridge.

  Below them, the panicked crowed had begun to scream again, and Habis was shouting at them: “Was that really necessary? And where is my wash bucket?”

  They passed over the bridge and entered the mist, and the city was gone. On the other side, Kuzo was not hard to find. High above the spires and battlements of the Magisterium, a mass of red streaked through the sky, leaving a trail of fire that washed against the stone and faded from view.

  From a high window of the tower, a figure stepped into view. Tabitha thought that it looked like Animus, and a moment later when he stepped into the air and did not fall, she was sure that it was. He brought his hands together in a wide arc. When they met, thunder echoed over the Magisterium.

  Kuzo spun in the air to face him. “There you are, Animus,” March bellowed from his back. “I knew you were here.”

  Tabitha banked toward the tower that Animus had stepped out of and settled atop the battlements to watch.

  “Yes, I am here,” Animus said calmly. “The wizards were very stubbornly refusing to run and hide from Shael’s army, so I came to convince them.”

  “Wizards, like all humans, are foolish,” Kuzo said, snapping his jaws together for emphasis.

  “Indeed,” Animus said. “But why are you here?”

  “I hoped the king would come for the wizards,” March said. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for you instead.”

  “I see,” Animus said. “But why are you here, Kuzo?”

  The dragon’s voice became deathly quiet (for a dragon) and Tabitha had to strain to make out his words. “I am not as young as I once was, Animus.”

  “Indeed,” Animus said. “Nor I.”

  Kuzo rolled his shoulders restlessly, causing March to slip and right herself. She scowled at him as he spoke to Animus. “Neither bird nor beast nor any form of man can cross the Rift into the Ire, Animus, yet once I could do so.” Then he paused, and there was a deep, angry rumbling in his chest. “I no longer possess the strength of my youth. I need to cross the bridge, and yet the mages have blocked it with some enchantment.” He pointed a threatening claw at Animus. “I demand passage.”

  “You want to go into the Ire?” Animus said. “Why?”

  “The time has come for my revenge!” Kuzo roared. He slapped a stone merlon with his forefoot and it tumbled to the ground like a missile.

  “You wish to destroy Gadjihalt?” Animus said. “You will have to single-handedly destroy Shael’s army to get to him, even after you aid this witch in setting him free. If you are not strong enough to get in by yourself, I doubt that you are strong enough for such a feat as that.”

  “I am stronger than you know!” Kuzo roared. He filled the air between them with fire, but Animus lifted his arms and the burning air ballooned upward in a giant plume before it reached him.

  “Be reasonable,” Animus said. “Your enemies are our enemies. Fight with us and we can help each other.”

  “Hah!” March sneered. “He has been a prisoner long enough. He will not be the servant of a human king!”

  The dragon leapt from the battlement, spouting fire. Tabitha jumped forward too, meeting his fire with her own. A second later, their bodies collided like two hurricanes, a mix of grinding scales and spinning tails, slashing claws and snapping jaws.

  They orbited each other wildly, once, twice, three times, and then Tabitha climbed onto the red dragon’s back. She changed shape then, recklessly, dropping Chantra into the air, and suddenly she was face to face with March. She caught the witch by surprise, lunged at her neck, and her fingers found what they were looking for. She tore at the string savagely, grappling with the witch’s arms. Then she had it. But the witch’s hands had tightened on her wrists. She couldn’t get away.

  “You can’t have Brinley’s mother,” Tabitha snarled, and March’s eyes widened. She mouthed a curse, and Tabitha’s hand shot open against her will. The witch snatched the vial away and kicked her, and she tumbled into the air. She was a dragon again, turning, reaching for the witch, but Kuzo sank his teeth into her leg. She turned on him and snarled, and they were blown apart as a pillar of fire erupted between them. Chantra was suspended in the midst of it, fifty feet above the ground, with one hand spread out to each of them, her body the glowing center of a blossoming fireball.

  Kuzo was flung out toward the sea, tumbling head over tail several times. Ma
rch was launched free of him toward the ground and disappeared into a puff of smoke halfway there. Tabitha was thrown back into the wall of the Magisterium. When she struck it, she turned back into herself and slid down the wall to crumple beside Animus. She fell a little harder than she meant to, and prodded herself experimentally before deciding that she hadn’t broken any bones.

  “Are you all right?” Animus asked, helping her to her feet. “I almost came to your aid, but you seemed to have things under control.”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “He’s stronger than I thought, but he’ll be all right. He’s just not himself today.”

  Animus nodded. “Dragons, like most of us, cannot hear well when their hearts are full of anger. And he has much to be angry about.”

  “We might need your help,” Tabitha said. “If we’re going to do this without hurting him.”

  Animus nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Animus,” Tabitha said, hesitating. “March had the naptrap. I had it in my hands, and I let her get away.”

  Animus stared at her, then nodded. “You did the best you could. Let it go. Another task faces you now.”

  Tabitha set her jaw and leapt from the battlement of the tower, becoming a dragon again. She glided through the pillar of fire on her way to the sea so that Chantra could drop onto her back.

  “Do you still see him?” Chantra asked, and Tabitha nodded, barreling toward the tiny red dot that she could see on the horizon. Kuzo was fleeing out to sea now.

  “Why does he flee?” Tabitha asked.

  “Perhaps he is afraid to face us,” Chantra said.

  “He is afraid to face himself.” It was Animus who had spoken. Tabitha turned to see him speeding along beside her, head and shoulders protruding from a blustering swirl of wind, like a figurehead on the prow of an invisible ship.

  Kuzo was putting distance between them now. Tabitha redoubled her efforts, straining for speed. She wondered how fast he was in his old age. It was quite possible she would not be able to catch up from this far back. “I can’t go any faster”.