by Amy Alward
Arjun has better eyes than me, because he spots a large object sitting on the lake bed a few metres from where we are. I follow him, when all of a sudden I let out a squeal under the water.
Arjun looks like he’s shooting light from his flippers. I wave my flashlight frantically at him and he spins around under water. I swim forward a bit, then clap my hands. Light explodes around me. As I move my arms, disturbing the water, it’s like the light is dancing with me. It looks like when we use sparklers on New Year’s Day and write our names with the light.
We can hardly believe it. Arjun does a somersault in the water, the sparks surrounding him. Is this what it feels like to be Talented, to be able to cast a magic spell? My heart wants to burst with the beauty. And also the hope. Where stars appear on command, the centaur had said. I snap my fingers and stars appear in the water. On my command.
This has to be where the diary is.
We swim over to the large object, which is teetering on the edge of the shelf of sand before the bottom drops down sharply into a black abyss. I’m shocked to see that it’s an old-fashioned car. Most of it looks rusted and broken, but it’s still unmistakably a car. Fish swim in and out of cracks in the bodywork, and all the windows have been smashed in – whether caused by the crash or some other pressure, I don’t know. But it’s exactly the type of car my great-grandmother might have driven in her adventures.
Then, the worst thing I could imagine happens. My torch flickers and turns off and I am plunged into darkness.
And Arjun’s does too.
I do the only thing I can think of, and I clap my hands. Arjun is by my side with a few swift kicks of his fins. He wants us to go to the surface, and he tugs my arm. But I tug back. We need to search the car, and I have one last trick to try.
The fairybug light.
It’s been hanging around my neck. I take it out from underneath my wetsuit and I pray for it to come on. Arjun won’t be able to see it, but I can. He’s just going to have to trust me.
I give his hand a squeeze, but I don’t let go.
The fairybug light brightens just enough for me to be able to see the car again. I can also see the fear on Arjun’s face and I know I have to be quick. I grab his other hand and place it on the car’s frame. I press it against the frame, hoping he understands that I want him to hold on while I search the car.
I let go of his hand and swim through the front window. I sit down in the front seat, hooking my flippers under the wheel to anchor me down. I pull open the glove compartment first, thinking that would be the most logical place for it: but there’s nothing. I reach under the seats, but still my hands come up empty.
I drift up from the front seat and swim around to the back. I can see Arjun watching the flashes of light I’m making, and I know I can’t leave him much longer. The darkness is claustrophobic enough as it is. I just need to check the boot, and then I’ll be done.
I tug at the handle, but it won’t budge. I curse my stupidity. With the window busted, I can just reach in. I shift aside a piece of blanket that has been covering the contents of the boot, getting the shock of my life as dozens of fish are disturbed and swim up into my face.
Underneath the blanket I see a spare tyre, a box of tools, the normal things you expect to find in the boot of a car. I put my hand inside the centre of the tyre and feel around.
My fingers grasp something hard, and I lean in to try and tug it loose. When it finally comes free, I see that it’s a locked box of some kind. It’s extremely heavy. I try and open it, but it’s no use underwater. I’m going to have to take it with me. I make a frantic gesture to Arjun, sending off sparks of light in different directions. He lets go of the frame and swims towards me. Then, the car shifts forward without warning, sending up a cloud of sand that even the fairybug light can’t penetrate.
I shoot my arm out and Arjun grabs it. He then grabs the other side of the box. With several big kicks, we drag it out of the boot, just as the car tips off the side and begins to freefall into the abyss.
We surface slowly, my fairybug light the only thing guiding my way. I’m so unbelievably proud of Arjun for completing this in almost total darkness.
When we surface, the lights of the boat are shining across the lake. We shout and wave, while clinging desperately to the box. Anita swings the boat around and drives it towards us. Then she kills the engine, leans over and helps us lift the box into the back of the boat.
‘I was so worried for you guys – it got dark so quickly and you were down there for ages,’ says Anita.
‘Our torches went out,’ said Arjun. He grabs a towel to wrap around himself. He’s shivering, and I can tell that being underwater in total darkness has rattled him badly. ‘That box better be worth it.’
‘I had this,’ I say, bringing the fairybug light out into the open. It seems almost spent now. ‘But I’m the only one who can see the light emitted from it,’ I say.
‘Well, that’s good for you but I thought I was going to have a panic attack.’ I sit close to him and give him a hug. I know he’s not too mad, because he leans into me and accepts my warmth.
Anita drives the boat back to shore, then we drag the box off the boat and onto the dock.
‘Wait!’ says Arjun, putting his foot in front of the box to prevent us from moving it any further. ‘Look – lights inside the shack.’
‘Someone’s inside,’ I say.
‘Get ready,’ Arjun says. Anita and I crouch, hands gripping the handles of the box, ready to haul it back into the boat and make a getaway. Arjun picks up the long stick he’d used for digging in the lake, holds it tightly in his fist and takes a few steps towards the shack. ‘Hello?’ he calls out. ‘Anyone there?’
There’s a bit of commotion from inside the shack, and an outside light is switched on. The door opens and two familiar silhouettes run out: it’s Kirsty and Zain.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Samantha
‘ANITA, GET BACK IN THE boat.’ using strength I didn’t know I had, I haul the box almost single-handedly back on board, pushing Anita in as well.
‘Sam! You’re all right!’ Zain shouts. He runs towards the dock but I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Arjun and hold out my hand, palm facing out. Arjun holds the stick horizontally in front of us.
‘Zain, stop there!’ I shout back.
A frown flits across his forehead, but he slides to a stop. ‘What are you doing? Sam, it’s me!’
Kirsty walks more slowly towards the dock. My eyes dart between the two of them. My heart pounds, my head a confused mess of excitement and fear and worry and relief. I stare at Zain: does he look like the Zain I know? His hair is a mess, his face looks more drawn and gaunt than normal – but that could be worry. Would I know if Emilia was impersonating him? Would it be obvious?
Kirsty looks exactly the same. She walks with her hands at her side until she’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Zain. We’re in a strange kind of stand-off, with Anita in the boat behind, ready to take off with the box.
‘How did you find me?’ I ask, the words catching in my throat.
‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere!’ says Zain, his hands out in front of him, his blue eyes begging me to trust him. ‘Then Kirsty said she saw Anita and Arjun take off in a hurry and realised it had something to do with you . . . she got wind that they were heading to Runustan but we had to fly here rather than transport. She got in touch with me as soon as she could to follow her hunch.’
‘I thought you were still in Pays . . .’
‘I was! But I wasn’t getting anywhere with the Gergon border. I knew Kirsty might have a genuine lead. I know how close you guys are. Please. We’ve been so worried about you. Why didn’t you get in touch straight away?’
‘I couldn’t,’ I say. ‘Emilia is too strong; I didn’t know whom to trust. And Kirsty, how could I possibly trust you?’ I shake my head, my body exhausted from the exertion of the diving, my mind tired from trying to extract the strand of the truth from the web o
f betrayals. ‘When you answered Prince Stefan’s phone, it sounded like you knew him! Are you working for him?’
‘Sam, I swear, I didn’t know what he wanted when he hired me to send you a bracelet. I didn’t realise his intentions . . .’
‘This bracelet was really from Stefan?’
Kirsty nods miserably. ‘It probably has a tracer inside.’
Fear grips my throat and I try to tug the bracelet off my wrist. It won’t budge.
‘That’s how he found me so quickly. How could you not realise he was bad news?’ I shake with rage now.
She shrugs in apology. ‘He paid good money . . .’
‘It’s always about the money with you, isn’t it? How much has he paid you this time to find me and bring me back?’
Now her face turns from apology to horror. ‘No, Sam, I would never! When I heard you’d been kidnapped I was devastated, and I asked my Finder friends to keep their ears to the ground for word about you. I brought Zain here because I know he can help you with the potion . . .’
I turn my attention from Kirsty back to Zain. Kirsty might be motivated by money, but at least I know she is who she says she is. I want nothing more than to run into Zain’s arms but I have to test him first.
I rack my brains for a question to ask him, something that only he would know. Then I have a spark of inspiration. ‘What did you write to me in a coffee cup in Mount Hallah?’
Zain pauses for a moment. Then he smiles wide. I feel my body relax – I would know that smile anywhere: the dimples that form in his cheeks and the small creases that appear at the corner of his eyes. ‘You are special to me, Samantha,’ he says. His voice is little more than a whisper, but I hear him so clearly.
I hesitate only for a moment more, then I run forward and throw myself into his arms. There’s a moment of surprise from him, then he hugs me tightly back. When we separate, I even hug Kirsty – she came looking for me, and I can’t begrudge her too much for acting exactly as she normally would. ‘Thank you, guys.’
‘A little help back here?’ calls Anita.
‘Come on . . . we might have found something.’ I gesture for Zain and Kirsty to help grab the box off the boat, while Arjun heads into the shack and emerges with a heavy mallet. We move the box directly under the light so that we can see it clearly. It’s definitely some kind of trunk.
‘Ready? One, two . . .’ On three, he hits the mallet and the rusty lock snaps in two. ‘Sam, do you want to do the honours?’
I swallow hard and nod. I open up the lid of the trunk, not knowing what to expect.
Miraculously, the inside is dry. I run my fingers around the edge, wondering if it’s amazing workmanship or some sort of magic glamour to protect its contents. The next thing I notice is that this trunk definitely belonged to my great-grandmother. There’s a photograph tucked into the lid in one of the far corners, a faded black and white image turned yellow at the edges, of Ostanes as a young boy.
‘Is that your grandad?’ Anita asks, looking over my shoulder as I take the photograph carefully between my fingers.
I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. I place the photograph carefully down on the table next to me. Then I sift through the other contents: some clothes, a blanket, a pair of shoes.
Then, there’s a sharp intake of breath from us all. At the bottom of the trunk, the one thing I’ve been looking for this entire time. A pale brown, leatherbound journal, wrapped many times around with a strip of leather rope.
My great-grandmother’s potion diary.
I’ve found it at last, and I can finally save my grandfather.
I collapse onto the floor, my friends standing around me. It’s like they don’t know what to do now that I have the diary in my hands. Eventually, they sit down around me. I look up, catch Zain’s eye, and he gives me a small nod. His eyes are wide with excitement.
I unwrap the leather ties, my hands shaking. I open the cover, and read the words written in neat penmanship on the inside:
The Potion Diary of Cleopatra Marie Kemi
Grand Master Alchemist
#34
‘It’s real,’ I whisper.
I turn the page, my breath held in anticipation. The diary starts in midflow, her words moving seamlessly from the last potion diary to this one. The pages that follow are endless lists of complex alchemical compounds, some scratched out and rewritten, others surrounded by hastily scrawled question marks. I recognise the franticness of her handwriting as an alchemist on the point of a breakthrough.
‘Do you recognise it? Is it the start of an aqua vitae recipe?’ Anita asks me.
I shake my head. ‘No, these are all formulas for potions, but I’ve never seen them written out like this before. This is . . .’ I stop to breathe out sharply. This isn’t what I’ve been looking for, not yet, but even so, it could change everything. ‘Look, she was trying to figure out the formula for a synthetic version of an ingredient.’
‘Wait – you’re telling me that a Kemi grand master dabbled in synths?’ asks Anita, shocked.
‘I don’t think she just dabbled in them,’ I say. ‘I think she created them. Right, Zain?’
He nods, but his face looks pale.
‘Woah, woah,’ says Arjun. ‘That’s a bit of a leap from a few scrawls in a journal, don’t you think?’
‘It’s not just a few scrawls in a journal,’ I admit. ‘Zain told me when we were up in the mountains in Bharat that his grandfather stole a synth formula that my great-grandmother created.’ I look at Zain. ‘I didn’t believe you at the time, not one hundred per cent, but this might just prove it.’
‘Will your family believe it? Your grandfather?’ asks Anita.
‘I have to cure him first,’ I remind her.
This is fascinating, but still not what I’m looking for. I flick through every page of the diary, simultaneously trying to be quick, thorough and not destroy the diary any further. This needs to be preserved back in the Kemi archives when I’m finished with it.
I reach the last page, and I swear my heart almost stops.
‘Did you see anything?’ asks Zain.
‘No . . . nothing even closely resembling an aqua vitae formula.’
‘Maybe you missed it?’ says Arjun.
I go through it again, even slower this time. Then I come across something that almost breaks my heart. Two pages have been ripped out, their edges blackened. Burned right down to the stitching, but not so close that it damages the integrity of the book. I sniff it and get an odour I recognise.
Bookworm powder – dissolves the pages of any book.
I know these pages weren’t simply torn out and handed to someone else. They’re gone for good. And I can only guess at what they might have contained. The pages either side give absolutely no clue that a recipe for an aqua vitae might have lived inside there.
But whether it did, or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. Because it’s not there now.
A sob escapes my lips, and Anita wraps her arms around me. ‘At least Emilia can’t get hold of it, or the Gergon Royal family . . .’
Zain stands up and sighs, his head falling into his hands. ‘How can it not be in there? Everything indicated that it was . . .’
I stand up with a fierceness that breaks Anita’s hold on me. ‘No . . . no . . . this is not the end! If my great-grandmother can figure out a recipe for the aqua vitae, then so can I.’ I pace around the room. ‘Maybe I’ll go to Zhonguo, I can ask the monks that live there . . . and I can search Pays for the waterfall. I still have . . . a few days . . . until . . .’
Anita stops me. ‘Don’t worry, Sam. We’ll get through this.’
I can’t believe I’ve come all this way, and the recipe isn’t there. My heart feels like it’s broken into a million pieces. All I can think is that I’m going to have to start the hunt for the recipe all over again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Samantha
AS THE OTHERS LOAD UP the car, I rest my chin on my knees and hug my legs. I don’t wan
t to look at anyone, and I don’t want to talk to anyone.
The others wouldn’t let me do anything more last night. They rightly pointed out that there was nothing productive that could be done – the transport technicians had left, I’d burned the other screen, it was too dark to travel now with the centaurs roaming about . . . We searched for a phone, but the signal booster has also been dismantled and taken away. We hunkered down in sleeping bags for an uneasy night’s rest.
And I had to face the facts. Time had run out for me anyway. The only comfort was that it was running out for the Gergons too. If I didn’t have the recipe, neither could they.
Oh how disappointed Emilia and Prince Stefan would be.
It’s a small comfort. My mind feels like it’s been separated into jail cells, certain thoughts being locked away so they can’t rattle my sanity any further. Thoughts like my grandfather, lying in hospital . . . the cell bars rattle. I turn away from those thoughts again.
This morning, Zain looks tired and twitchy. I know he wants to ask me tons of questions about where I’ve been since the Laville Ball, but I haven’t been up for that yet. I woke up with a crushing headache that threatened to turn into a migraine. My plan last night to continue searching for ingredients for an aqua vitae just seems stupid in the harsh light of day.
For one thing, my parents aren’t ever going to let me out of their sight for as long as Emilia is still at large.
Kirsty is driving, Arjun is next to her and I am squished between Zain and Anita.
‘Can you imagine how happy your family will be to see you alive and well?’ says Anita, trying to inject a touch of optimism. ‘And although they’ve tried to keep the news about what happened out of the media, it’s going to be a crazy time for you.’
‘Not making me feel better, Anita,’ I say. I wish I could keep the whingeing tone out of my voice, but I can’t. I feel like the ultimate failure. I feel like I’ve failed everyone: my family, my grandfather, my great-grandmother, Princess Evelyn, Zain, Anita and Arjun. Literally everyone I have ever cared about.
