“Come on!” she screamed, her heart pounding in her throat.
Growling flames and scorching heat surged at her back as she shot through the opening and tumbled across the floor. As the iris spiraled shut behind her, the Chimera crashed against the solid barrier with a resounding roar that shook the sanctuary’s walls.
Choking back the acidic tang of adrenalin flooding her system, Brune lay there like a limp rag. Her body begged to lose consciousness, but rest was the furthest thing from her mind. After seventy-five years of keeping order in the universe, she couldn’t believe such a small mistake could very well unleash an eternity of chaos throughout the cosmos.
2
One Gambletunity
"THIS IS A SOUR QUANDARYMENT you’ve dropped me into, Brune. What am I to do now that you’re defunctional?” said an irritated Farouk.
Cringing at the grating sound of his amplified voice blaring through the transmodulator, she narrowed her eyes at him. He stared back, his whiskered snout poking through the bars of his cage. He had the coloring and features of a fox, large devil-pointed ears, a body resembling a monkey and eyes that glowed with an inner fire suggestive of great mischief.
“Turn that down,” she grumbled, “you’re hurting my ears.” She’d always found his quasi-East Indian accent and outlandish word amalgams amusing, endearing even, but not when he was chastising her at an unbearable pitch. She turned away, unable to face his accusing gaze.
“Where’s the rescue kit?” she said as she eased the battered aeronaut pack from her throbbing shoulder and peeled off her fur-lined pilot’s cap and goggles. Welcoming the cool air hitting her sweat-drenched hair, she rose on trembling legs and leaned heavily against a large table full of ancient tomes piled around glass vials of bubbling liquid connected by copper tubes dripping into a complex arrangement of brass funnels and reservoirs.
Farouk pulled on a gear, his ears drooping sullenly. Long mechanical crablike legs extended from the bottom, lifting his cage. His arms moved the levers with practiced precision as he steered his noisy transport across the wide sanctuary to a circular wall of bookcases. He ratcheted up the height, pulled a box from the top shelf and blew the dust off. Swinging back around, he placed it on the table and unlatched the lid. Several tiered drawers sprang up, offering their belongings in an orderly fashion.
He reached for a bottle of luminescent gold liquid. “You should have undone your doggenacity. You know well enough that tomorrow comes perpetuously,” he said, finally dialing down the volume when she covered her ears and glared at him again.
Dropping her hands she heaved a sigh. He was right, but she wasn’t going to admit it out loud. She’d never hear the end of it. Untying her makeshift bandage, she peeled the bloody cloth away from the already putrid wound. Before she could defend her actions, he poured the bottle’s contents over the festering flesh, holding his nose as the seeping puncture fizzed and smoked. Pain shot up her arm; she bit down on the back of her fist to keep from crying out, watching as the flesh turned a healthy pink.
Relief set in as the stinging eased. “I would’ve come back in and waited, but this scav likes the taste of iron.”
Farouk’s eyes widened with alarm.
“That’s right, the Keep could come to a grinding halt if it gets into the underpinnings and starts eating away at the gears––”
“Or perforgrates the breaching door,” he said, his expression foreboding. “You do know what would happen if the Keep’s seal is breaktured?”
“Of course I do.” Guilt gnawed at her. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s my mistake, and I’ll fix it as soon as I get my strength back. There’s no way I can go back in the way I’m feeling right now.”
“But the scavenger will be doublfied soon, and I know I do not need to mention the mixcellaneous creatures you’ve already unleashed.”
The thought of going back in there in such a worn-out state terrified her. “Listen, if I hadn’t been forced to run for my life, I would’ve gotten the scav.”
“You were indubitously slower than usual.” Farouk’s sharp ears flicked toward her like fingers pointing the blame. “There are logicalities for why no human should be present in the Keep during the gloaming––“
“I know,” she snapped.
“But you did not heed why humans are such a fascenticement. Mortals have always been the playthings of the old forces, and quite often the food.”
“Having nearly been the blue-plate special of the day…I think I got that.”
“You don’t comprestand. You exposed yourself to all levels of magic––crude, raw, dark, refined, wild. It’s more than the human body can abssimilate at any given moment.”
She stopped breathing a second. Was that why she felt so weak and brittle? “And you’re only telling me this now?” she yelled.
He shrugged. “I thought the first rule was enough motivcentive.” He gave her a sideways glance filled with distaste. “You are destructalized, Brune. I am seeing it already.”
“What are you talking about?”
Farouk’s steady gaze burned into her. “The years you’ve been holding back are surfmerging––and swiftly.”
An icy dread crawled over Brune’s skin. She rushed over to the mirror ball sitting atop a pile of books. Leaning in, she stared at her convex reflection in horror. Her full lips looked like shriveled rose petals. Fine lines had carved themselves into her smooth skin, while puffy folds crowded her hazel eyes. Her fresh nineteen-year-old face was gone, replaced by a stranger in her forties.
She pushed away from her reflection, unwilling to watch the inevitable arrival of the ninety-four-year-old crone she’d cleverly evaded for the last seven-and-a-half decades. How was this possible? The Orb of Aeternitis should’ve protected her. Panicked, she checked to see if the small gold orb was still on the chain around her neck. It was still there.
“The Orb pickled you well these last seventy-five years,” Farouk said, picking up on her thoughts, “but it isn’t enough to insulguard you against an ill-mixed cocktail of monumantically potent magic.”
“Oh, God,” she muttered, holding up a lock of long blonde hair swiftly turning to coarse threads of gray.
“You’ll get no help from that lofty compartment,” Farouk said. “This is no time for hystericalness. You must face this messbacle and find your successor. You need help to restructify the Keep.”
As weak as she was, Brune resisted. She would not be replaced. “I can do it myself. All I need is the Rod to reverse this.”
He paused, nodding. “Yes, the Rod would completify the Orb. You would be omnivasive. But how will you get it? The same way you pilfaged the Orb?”
A terrible heaviness pressed down on her as she staggered to a chair and sat down. She’d always intended to go back to Oldwilde for the Rod. But the Keep had held too much fascination for her. The artifacts in the vaults were only part of its allure. The sanctuary had a library full of ancient texts, scrolls, tablets and books of magic. She could live a thousand years and not even scratch the surface of knowledge contained within the Keep or its library.
But there were other reasons she hadn’t returned to Oldwilde. That place was full of ghosts. She couldn’t face them. It was enough they haunted her from within.
“Brune. There is no time to proquire the Rod. Leave now and summon your successor this very night.”
Startled from her thoughts, she nearly fell off her chair. As she caught herself, she noticed the ring of keys attached to her belt. The Key to the Keep was three sizes larger than the other keys, and still growing. If she left now, the Key would never fit the Lock, which opened the gateway between here and Earth. She looked at him. “Did you know this would happen?”
His ears twitched with exasperation. “The Key knows when the Keep needs a new Guardian.”
Brune rushed at the cage, pushing against the bars, almost knocking it over. “This is all your fault! I never would’ve stayed during the gloaming if I’d known this would happen!�
� Her chest constricted with fear. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
His slanted eyes turned to gleaming slits. “I never thought I needed to. In all the time I’ve been condemnified to this prison, I have never known a Guardian who dared as much as you to get and keep her position.” He shrugged. “Guardians come and go, but none of them ever lasted as long as you. I was cheering for you, waiting to see how far you would get. Disfortunately, your overconfidence was very much your own undoing.”
She quaked with fear. “I won’t leave. This is my home––it’s where I belong.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll be quite pleased to host a salutorious greeting for the nastilence that will soon pour through that breaching door. And be sure to serve some flavoriscious donuts, only save the creamy white ones for me. What were they called again? Cumulus One-More-Than-Eight?”
“Cloud Nines,” Brune mumbled as she slid to the floor in defeat.
“Ah yes, pure heaven,” Farouk said, licking one side of his snout. “Oh, stop brooding. You won’t be shut out for long. You’ll gain admitrance with the new Guardian. After all, you must eduprime your replacement.”
“Yeah, someone too soft and green to handle this mess.”
“And whose fault is that? You should have summoned and trained someone long ago.”
His voice droned on in the background. She was reliving the domino of mistakes she’d made over and over, wishing she could go back and undo each one. As the bitter reality set in, she made a decision, one that iced into her heart. She would do whatever it took to reclaim her youth and rightful place within the Keep. She was the only one who could protect it.
Using the Key––now the length of a cane––she struggled to her feet and hobbled over to the spell book section of the library. After finding the volume she sought, she tucked it under her arm and turned to leave.
“You cannot take that with you.”
“Listen, you overgrown rodent, you know I need the summoning spell.” She hadn’t called him that since their first year together, but she was furious with him.
Looking wounded, Farouk’s ears fell as he buried his nose against his shoulder. “What happens if you expirate out there? We cannot risk a book of magic falling into unignorant hands.”
Knowing he was right, she put the book on the table with a weary sigh.
Directing his cage to a tall curio cabinet, he pulled out a jar with a gnarled root tied to its lid. “I prepurated the honey pot with calamus root.” He set it down. “Don’t forget to add a teaspoon of your own blood to connectify to those who answer the call.”
“You saw this coming, didn’t you?”
Farouk placed a small pouch on top of the jar. “It is my job to previsionate your every need.” He nudged his snout toward the pouch. “I included John the Conqueror root––ground to a fine powder for better discatterment.”
Its sweet, earthy scent rose up around her. “I see you’ve brought out all the heavy hitters.”
“It is not enough to compel those who are summoned. You must governate them until one commits to becoming the next Guardian.”
“I have the Orb for that.”
“It may not be enough. You have one gambletunity. You cannot afford to misbotch this too.”
“All right. But do you really think there’s anyone left to answer the summons after all these years? They could be dead for all we know. It’s generational. Surely I’ve outlived them all.”
Farouk gave her a sidelong look that told her he knew better. “You may wish it otherelse, but rest assured, your successor lives. There will always be a Guardian as long as the Keep exists.”
Frowning, Brune returned to the spell book, nearly tearing its fragile sheets as she flipped angrily through them. When she found the spell she needed, she grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink.
“No scribing. You must rememborize the spell.”
She threw the quill at him, making the spry creature dart to one side of his cage. “My brain’s turning to mush as we speak! I may not be able to remember the spell in the next five minutes, let alone an hour or more!”
Farouk’s furry face wrinkled with irritation when he saw ink spots on his immaculate coat. “Fine, you made your point.”
She copied the spell down. “I’ll be sure to eat it after I’m done,” she muttered.
His gaze slid to the floor as she shuffled over to a round iron door, its edges trimmed in bronze and etched with symbols. Without a word of goodbye to her only companion of seventy-five years, she pulled the lever. As the iris spiraled open, anguish filled Brune’s heart. She desperately wished she was only going through the portal on a donut run for Farouk. Other than his occasional yen for junk food, there had never been any other reason to return to Earth. No one waited for her on the other side.
She stared at the circular tunnel. The inner rings activated, each rotating in opposite directions, the spin generating a flux path. Its strong gravitational pull tugged at her as the tunnel filled with waves of neon-blue light. The moment she stepped through the threshold, she hurtled through space and time. As hot bolts of electricity bombarded her, an unexpected and incredible pain ripped through her body, like the melting of skin and G-forces imploding her bones.
The jump was over in a fraction of a second. She stood panting in the dark, reeling from the shocking assault. She groped at her face expecting to touch skinless mush. Feeling dry, papery skin was almost as upsetting. She should’ve known her old, broken-down body wouldn’t withstand a ride like that without feeling every bump. She was lucky she even survived.
Still shaking, she felt around in the blackness for the doorknob. The door’s hinges creaked as she stepped into a musty-smelling storage room of the bookstore. She was back on Earth, the last place in the universe she ever wanted to be. Sadness crashed in as she trailed her mottled hand over the faded letters spelling Janitor on the ordinary door concealing the portal. She reached for the Lock attached above the doorknob. It was gone. A surge of fear went through her before she remembered. Just as the Key had returned to its original size when she became incapable of guarding the Keep, the Lock had been drawn back to its place of origin, where it would remain securely hidden until the new Guardian claimed it.
She hated the thought of someone else taking her place. Every part of her being resisted handing over that much responsibility to an underling. But she had to accept the cold hard facts. A new Guardian was her only hope, no matter how green the recruit might be.
3
Soft As A Marshmellow
BRUNE HID IN THE SHADOWS behind one of the tall bookcases, anxious for her successor to arrive. She had no idea who would show up, but she prayed for a battle-hardened marine fit for the grueling gauntlet ahead.
She got a drenched powder puff instead.
“Well, there goes my odds,” she croaked, her hopes deflating like a punctured life raft.
At least the waiting was over.
Her feeble condition and shriveling brain had slowed her down in every conceivable way. Just preparing for the summoning spell had been an exhausting task. Performing it had been even harder. Being so dull-witted, she’d had to repeat the conjuration steps multiple times. But dealing with the ravages of old age was a cakewalk compared to the nightmare following her tumble down a flight of stairs.
The crush of her skull and the nauseating crack of her neck when she landed at the bottom in a grotesque heap of twisted limbs should’ve killed her. But she’d survived. Her right arm had popped out of the socket, wrapped around her head, while one leg bent forward at the knee and the other hung loose from her pelvic bone. Using her one good arm, Brune had forced each body part back into its proper position, trying her best
to ignore the disturbing sounds of grinding bone and snapping tendons.
It took her addled mind a few minutes to realize she should’ve been in unbearable pain. That’s when the hideous truth hit her.
She was undead.
The Orb of Aeternitis, having given
her eternal youth as she continued to wear it round her neck, now animated her lifeless limbs with its powerful and unpredictable magic.
Having dispatched her share of undead within the Keep, her revulsion toward becoming one of them was so great she wanted to end it all right there and then. It would be simple, just remove the Orb and the lights would go out. She came close to doing it several times, but there was still a greedy spark of life in her refusing to let go.
Her gruesome condition changed everything. She needed a new game plan. The Rod of Aeternitis was now her only option. Once she merged the Rod with the Orb, she would have unlimited power––the ability to create or destroy with a mere thought. All her problems would vanish like they had never happened.
But she had to work fast. Being magically alive hadn’t stopped her from rotting at an alarming rate.
At least the summons had worked. There was just one small hitch: the mysterious young man who’d appeared out of nowhere after she’d cast the jumbled spell. This wasn’t the first time the Orb had conjured something unexpected when combined with incantations. But based on past experience, an accidental manifestation was never good. Another reason she needed the Rod. Using the Orb alone was like trying to use a nail without a hammer. She would’ve done a reversal spell if she could remember it. Not that there had been any time to do so. The girl had walked into the bookstore too soon after his appearance––mistaking Brune for a cat of all things.
The sound of voices pulled Brune’s attention back to the present. The girl had discovered the boy and the Book of Fables. That was good. She had her inside the ring of John the Conqueror powder she’d sprinkled around its base. Now all she had to do was keep her there with the Orb.
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