by Lucia Ashta
But only if we let it.
Gertrude kept reminding us to remain hopeful. I suspected she believed that way the spell wouldn’t get to us, at least not in the way it had clearly affected our seniors from the academy.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Madame Pimlish said for the third time in as many minutes. The portly teacher, who’d transformed into a pig to get here, was back to being human, though I preferred her as a pig. At least that way she was cute in a bizarre sort of way, with her out-of-place ringlets and pearls.
Clearly, Madame Pimlish was one of the most impacted by Maurisse’s spell. Whereas not a single person or creature in this dungeon seemed happy to be there, she was the only one who was actually crying.
Mordecai caught me looking at her as she wiped her tears and nose on Wizard Meedles’ shirt and said, “That side of the spell seems to be affecting those with a limited scope in powers more greatly.”
“What do you mean?” Brave asked right away. His eyes had done nothing but roam the dark space we occupied. I was sure he’d placed all the weight of getting us out of here directly on his shoulders. If he saw it as his fault that we students were trapped in here, then he’d also see it as his duty to get us out. And I was certain he intended on rescuing the others too.
I still hadn’t spent much time with Brave, but the more I did, the more I realized he’d earned his name several times over. What a lucky chance that his parents had named him something so appropriate.
No, wait. That wasn’t right. He’d mentioned something about some tragedies regarding his parents, which meant there was far more to the story than this.
I snapped myself out of meandering thoughts. Focus, Isa. I wondered if that could be another effect of the spell before I got myself to concentrate on Mordecai, who was telling Brave something important—and I was missing it.
“So the effect is less on those with a greater range of powers?” Brave followed up, and I had to work hard not to mentally kick myself for getting distracted.
“Right. Prudence’s powers are concentrated on transformations. She’s a master of them, but her magic doesn’t extend much beyond that. So she’s feeling desolate. Gustave’s magic is centered on dragons mostly, so he’s been hit hard too.”
I searched the dark, flickering shadows for Gustave and found him huddled in a corner by himself, looking as if Humbert the dragon had just died, though I was sure he hadn’t. The dragon was making enough noise to rouse the dead.
“Arianne is suffering the effects of the spell too,” Mordecai continued. “Though not as intensely as Gustave or Prudence.”
“Why is that?” Marie asked.
“I suspect it’s because, while Gustave is a genius when it comes to dragons, Arianne works with nearly every kind of creature, so long as it’s magical in nature.”
“So you’re saying her skills are more expansive than her brother’s.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you and Grand Witch Tillsdale are still managing to focus.”
“Precisely. And it’s not just us. Marcelo, Marcus, Vlad, and Priscilla are doing remarkably well, as is Delilah. I think Vlad and Priscilla aren’t affected by that part of the spell at all because of, well, what they are.”
I cast furtive glances at everyone Mordecai had just mentioned, grateful that for once the wizard was forthcoming with clear, succinct answers. I needed clarity and understanding right now so as not to become overwhelmed and fearful despite my intentions. Perhaps that’s why he did it when it was so out of character for him: so we’d remain as hopeful as possible.
“Clara hasn’t been affected at all from what we can tell.”
“That’s wonderful,” Gertrude said, sounding more uplifted than I’d ever heard her. I assumed she was working to maintain the outlook. “Why do you think that is?”
“I presume it’s because the way she interacts with the elements supersedes spells. Maurisse must have based the magic he used, to trap us here and drain us, on his own way of doing things.” He looked to Clara fondly, the familiar sound of a small tinkle of the beads in his beard sending a hopeful wave to my heart. “Clara has never fit cleanly within the scope of magic as we understand it. As clever as Maurisse is, he would have no way of knowing what Clara’s magic is like. We’ve been careful to keep the specifics of her skills secret.”
“And it’s a good thing too,” Marcelo said, standing next to his wife and draping a protective arm across her shoulders, even though, in this instance, it seemed that she was better poised to protect him.
Nando took half a step forward, farther into the dark, cavernous dungeon. “Why is it that now we can hear everything and before we couldn’t? I mean, with the kind of racket Humbert is making, I can’t believe we didn’t hear him when we first entered the castle.”
Mordecai looked at the scarlet dragon, who was furious enough to burn down the castle with all of us in it.
I worried and twisted my fingers together. I hoped Gustave or Arianne held it together long enough. Without them, who would control the furious Humbert?
Wait. Hadn’t Clara swooped in on Humbert to rescue me when Mordecai first took me from Uncle’s house? Clara could ride Humbert! And even better, Clara seemed immune to at least part of the spell.
I forced my fingers apart. We’d get out of this. We’d find the way. We always did, even when the odds seemed insurmountable.
My mind immediately wanted to jump to unhelpful thoughts: Our luck will run out someday. Just because we beat the odds on every other occasion doesn’t mean we will on this one. Even Mordecai and Grand Witch Tillsdale seemed stumped.
Ah! I’d allowed my mind to wander again. What was wrong with me? Now wasn’t the time to miss out on crucial explanations. It was rare enough that Mordecai was offering them; I needed to listen.
I finally tuned in again to Nando saying, “This spell seems super encompassing.”
“It is,” Mordecai said. “We got lucky Marcus managed to get his warning off to you.”
“Not that it did any good,” Grand Witch Tillsdale muttered. The witch, who’d always looked fully in control and composed, now looked harried and flustered.
I definitely didn’t take it as a good sign when the most highly skilled witch of the magical world seemed concerned.
“If you didn’t want us to come,” Nicholas said, finally emerging from the back of our group, “you should’ve sent word through Elwin. We were worried something had gone wrong when we didn’t hear from him, and clearly we were right.”
I ground my jaw to staunch the worse of my irritation at Nicholas. He was great at taking credit, that was for sure. I had no problem believing it even though I hadn’t known him long enough to decide whether or not it was an entirely fair statement. I didn’t really care about being fair just then.
I mean, I’d only come back from the dead the day before. Shouldn’t there be some kind of moratorium on situations that could kill me?
Suddenly I focused enough to realize Grand Witch Giselle was glaring at Nicholas.
What’d I miss? I’d gotten distracted again. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t usually like this, a hummingbird alighting from flower to flower without rest.
I tuned into the poignant silence in conversation, disrupted only by Humbert’s growling, and the non-stop complaints of the hellhounds.
What had Giselle said? What had Nicholas said? Dangit.
“Next time you want to accuse your superiors of not doing what they were supposed to, you might want to think before you speak. Maurisse’s spell is complex in a way someone of your skill set will never understand. If his spell had allowed us to use Elwin as a go-between, clearly we would have.”
Nicholas had the good grace to look chagrined, and I started to feel bad for him before I remembered that he may deserve the scolding. But did he? I couldn’t remember.
“Now, if we can put an end to this litany of questions, we have work to do. As much as I hate to say it, we need all of you to focus o
n this problem. Maurisse’s is a spell we’ve never encountered before.”
“Neither did we think it was possible,” Mordecai interjected. “It’s magic of the darkest sort.”
“That it is. Since you’re all largely untrained, there’s a chance, though a small one, that you might be able to crack what we can’t.”
I didn’t think Giselle was affected by the spell. It seemed as if she just dealt with the facts, plain and simple, not bothering with embellishments.
She continued. “Since we aren’t aware of the specifics of your powers, we might get lucky.” She studied us, and even in the dimness of the dungeon, dispelled only by a smattering of torches, her gaze was piercing. “You, Isadora.”
I snapped my head up, discovering that I’d been distracted yet again, barely listening. “Yessss, Grand Witch Tillsdale?” My voice trembled, and I didn’t bother to feel embarrassed by it. I was frightened, and working hard to pretend I wasn’t.
“From what I hear, you’re a bit like Clara.”
“Uh, I don’t think I am. I don’t even know what the elements are.” That wasn’t entirely true. I mean, I knew what fire, earth, air, and water were, of course. I just hadn’t connected with them in any extraordinary way.
“Of course you do,” she snapped. “You have a brain, don’t you? You breathe air, you drink water, you experience heat and cold, you walk on the earth.”
My cheeks flushed. “I meant that I’ve never singled them out in the use of magic.”
Giselle shocked me by smiling. “Of course you did. I’m messing with you.”
My jaw went slack, and I struggled not to look like the idiot that she apparently didn’t actually think I was.
In a flash, her expression was back to grim, as if her smile had been a figment of my imagination.
“From what I hear,” she tried again, “you access magic without spells.”
“Oh, yes, well that appears to be true.”
“Good. And I also hear that you died and returned to your body?”
I gulped and Nando drew nearer at the reminder of how close he’d come to losing me. “Y-Yes.”
“This is what I’m talking about. All of you novices might be able to help, so don’t think just because you apparently have barely sat in any classes at all”—she shot a loaded look at Mordecai—“or been taught much of anything, you can’t help. Please try. We need you to work on this problem as intently as we are.”
I couldn’t pinpoint this woman’s true personality. She seemed intent, gruff, and fiery. Then she suddenly said or did something that made her seem approachable.
“We’ve wasted enough time. All of you, get to it.”
I waited for a more detailed explanation of this it, but it didn’t arrive. The grand witch expected us to... figure it out.
Before I realized it, I found myself studying our surroundings. The dungeon was so vast I wouldn’t have believed it was enclosed by walls but for the dank smell of mildew and filth, the oppressive sense of air that barely circulated, and the desperate pitter-pattering of my heart, which registered that we were well and truly trapped. I expected to discover cells and bars that indicated Maurisse held prisoners here as he was rumored to. But if there were individual prisons, I couldn’t make them out.
Angelica and Simon had moved over to their parents, where they all huddled together. Nicholas had taken no more than a few steps toward the family I was certain he must want to be a part of, although he distanced himself from the unit with his attitude.
Clara and Marcelo, looking determined, stood behind Mordecai and Giselle. Whereas Gustave remained huddled in his corner, and Arianne paced worriedly back and forth in front of him, moving at such a frantic pace that even Mathieu and Sylvia waited for her off to the side instead of following.
Count Vabu and his sister Priscilla remained poised and stoic. If I hadn’t been all too certain we were trapped down here, I wouldn’t have guessed it from looking at them. The vampires were as cold as ever. Ordinarily, that might bother me. But not now. It instilled me with hope that the mostly emotionless vampires might overcome the effects of the spell long enough to help us out of here.
Madame Pimlish was a crumpled heap of whimpers, leaning all of her weight into Wizard Meedles. She alone was in a dress, but even its usual garish flowers weren’t enough to brighten her mood. She cried as if her heart were broken.
The eight hellhounds yipped and growled, never staying still, apparently frantic to escape this prison. Wizard Meedles had mentioned they could sniff out dark magic and follow its trail anywhere. Well, we were immersed in a field of dark magic, and it was driving the poor hounds mad.
The remaining dozen firedrakes waddle-paced around the confines of the large space, never venturing too far from the rest of us.
All but Elwin. I smiled at him, even though hope was escaping me like a hot air balloon with a hole in it.
He sensed me, and smiled back. There you are. Here I am.
I didn’t know what to reply to that. My mind was too muddled to make sense of his usual obscure speech. I widened my smile and hoped that was enough response for now.
Humbert gave a contained roar, but it was enough to startle me back from my reverie. A burst of flame erupted from his mouth, illuminating the rest of the space for an instant.
I saw no end to it.
I gulped and shook my head, trying to gather my focus. Like my hope, it seemed to escape me despite my intentions.
“What is it, Isadora?”
The use of my name brought me back as if from a dream. I scanned the large space until I landed on Giselle’s face and realized she’d been the one to say it.
“Uh,” I started, and I sensed several more sets of eyes land on me. “Um, well, I can’t seem to focus. Each time I try to, ah, follow a conversation or train of thought, I end up someplace else.”
Giselle shared a grim look with Mordecai, then Clara and Marcelo, next Wizard Meedles and even Count Vabu before returning her attention to me. “I take it you aren’t usually this flightful?”
She looked from me to my brother right behind me. I sensed him shaking his head no without looking. “No,” I said. “I can usually focus just fine.”
“It must be another effect of the spell,” Mordecai said. “It’s affecting each of us in different ways according to our magic.”
Giselle turned to him alone. “Is her magic that different from everyone else’s?”
“I think it might be.”
Giselle faced me again and tilted her head to one side, deliberating. Her very serious braid down the middle of her back peeked around her shoulder. “Then maybe she really will be able to help us.”
Mordecai’s eyes bore into me. “She and the others. We’ve tried long enough without making any progress. And our power continues to wane. You and I have quite a lot of it, but if it continues to drain much longer, we won’t.”
“Then we’d better get to work, every single one of us. Isadora and Clara, you do whatever you can. Don’t stick to what you’ve been taught of magic. Follow your own path. We need something different than what Maurisse expects to get us out of here.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Clara said. “I haven’t been taught much.”
I hear you, I thought, casting a sympathetic look at the fiery redhead.
“Most of what I’ve managed has been by accident or experimentation,” she added, and again, I understood. It was the same with me, though I couldn’t begin to do what she apparently managed.
“Keep it up, then. The same with the rest of you. Who knows, you very well might hold your own surprises. Actually, we’re counting on it.”
A moment passed in which I expected someone else to say something, but no one did until Giselle said, “Chop, chop. Time’s wasting. And trust me when I say, we don’t have a second to spare.” She waved her hands in a motion meant to disperse us.
I had no idea what I’d do, but I followed her directions. I took a hesitant step away from
Nando and stared off into the dark of the dungeon, hoping beyond hope that inspiration might strike me... before all my hope vanished along with Madame Pimlish and Gustave’s.
Here goes nothing, I thought, and began the labor of pushing away fear and reaching for belief in myself.
I have my work cut out for me. Isa, maintain your focus. Above all, stay focused.
Chapter 2
I had every intention of getting right to figuring out how to get us out of this castle. Mordecai and Grand Witch Giselle had done a proper job of impressing the urgency of our predicament, and Madame Pimlish’s sobs and sniffles were an effective visceral reminder.
But it all came back to the fact that I truly and absolutely had no good idea what to do. Sure, I’d portaled and teleported, but I’d done so entirely by chance. I’d also come back to life, but then I’d merely gotten lucky, and I’d had the kind witch Mariana’s help. There was no guarantee if I died again today that I’d manage another chance at this whole life business.
Everyone around Nando and me snapped to action at Grand Witch Giselle’s command. Already, lips muttered spells under the breath, hands glowed and sparked, and the air, previously so stagnant, moved in eddies here and there as the many magicians trapped in this dungeon attempted to access an avenue that would deliver our escape.
Brave, Marie, Walt, and Angelica wore fierce expressions as they stared off into what looked like a dark void, which I imagined contained the beginning framework of some spell or another. Gertrude mostly watched. I suspected the extent of Gertrude’s magic might be limited to transforming into a cat. While an impressive feat, it didn’t seem the type that would help us here; it was more like the unilateral kind of focused magic that increased her chances of succumbing to despair.
Simon’s hands glowed and sparked, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything useful with them. I had the sense he was playing, which appeared terribly out of place—but what did I know? Perhaps all his magic was concentrated on exploding things, and while we were desperate, I didn’t think we were yet desperate enough to blow up a castle while we were still inside it.
