JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “What’s that?” Izzy asked suddenly, stopping and pointing. James turned and saw an object protruding from the grass some distance away, in the shadow of a low outcropping of boulders. Silently, the troop angled toward the object, cautious but curious.

  James was the first to reach it. He peered at it, trying to make sense of the shape of it. It was quite large, but low and streamlined, comprised of wood and metal and draped with tangles of thin, silky rope. It lay tilted onto its side, nearly buried in the grass.

  “It looks like a boat,” Ralph suggested uncertainly. “But how could it have gotten up here?”

  “It’s not a boat,” Zane called from some distance away. “Look at the hill next to it. See all that old fabric?”

  James looked. Next to the boat-shape was a pool of wrinkled blue fabric, faded almost white. It clung to the rocky hill like a skin, poked through in a thousand places with tufts of grass.

  “It was an airship,” Lucy said, her voice filled with awe. “Someone came here by air. A long time ago, by the look of it. Maybe decades ago.”

  “Maybe even centuries,” Petra added. “There’s no way to know for sure. There’re no bugs here. Nothing to rot the cloth or wood, nothing to corrode the metal. It looks almost like the day it landed except that the balloon is flat and destroyed by the grass that poked up through it.”

  “Travelers from one of the other island dimensions, you think?” James asked, approaching the wooden hull and peering in. The inside was nearly empty save for a few seats and a large rudder handle which protruded crookedly from the rear.

  “One traveler, at least,” Petra hazarded. “I wonder what dimension he came from? And if he made it into our own world?

  James noticed a series of symbols painted onto the hull of the ship, faded almost into obscurity. Among them was the unmistakable shape of a unicorn, white and stern, its horn a pale purple. Ralph and Zane joined James there and saw the same thing.

  “The Rider,” James said quietly. “The one from the tapestries in Erebus Castle! This was his ship. His and the unicorn that came with him.”

  “How can that be?” Ralph queried in a low voice. “When the Rider came through, he arrived somewhere back home, in Europe, in the Middle Ages, didn’t he?”

  James shook his head. “These portals aren’t like normal doorways,” he replied. “I don’t think time or distance make much difference with them. The Nexus Curtain may always be there, connecting to our world, but it probably looks different every time it opens. It may open up into entirely different times and places in our world. There’s no way of knowing.”

  Zane was barely listening. He was moving along the hull of the abandoned airship, studying the symbols painted onto it. “Look,” he said, touching one of the drawings. “The unicorn that came through with the Rider wasn’t just a regular beast. You can see that just by looking at the way it’s painted. It was smart. It wasn’t the servant of the Rider.”

  “They were partners,” Ralph agreed, leaning to peer at the drawings. “They were explorers.”

  James shook his head darkly. “Too bad their explorations led them here.”

  They knew the dangers they faced, a thin, ghostly voice said in James’ ear.

  The three boys startled and spun around, their eyes bulging. Behind them, staring at them with sad curiosity was a wispy grey shape, almost invisible in the flat light of the plateau. It was the figure of a woman, young and moderately pretty, with huge eyes and a small, sad mouth.

  Sorry, she said faintly. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

  “Are you a gh-gh—,” Ralph stammered, his face going white. “A ghost?”

  “Oh good grief, Ralph,” Lucy said, approaching and shaking her head. “You had a ghost teacher for the last two years at Hogwarts.”

  “Yeah,” Ralph admitted a little defensively. “Well, it’s one thing to have a scheduled class with one. It’s another thing to have one whisper in your ear when you’re exploring some weird dead island.”

  Sorry, the ghost said again, drifting backwards. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone. I forget what it’s like to deal with the living.

  “Who are you, miss?” Petra asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

  My name is Fredericka, the ghost answered, and made a dutiful curtsy with her transparent hands. Fredericka Staples. I’ve been here ever since I… She paused before finishing, as if she was embarrassed or reluctant to admit it. Um, ever since I died.

  “Fredericka Staples,” James said, his eyes widening. “You’re the one who… the woman that Magnussen…! Er!”

  The ghost nodded and pressed her lips together, obviously not wishing to discuss the topic.

  “Who?” Lucy asked, but James shook his head.

  “She died on the campus of Alma Aleron,” he answered quietly. “She was a Muggle and she got mixed up with the wrong dark wizard. I’ll tell you the rest later if you really want to know.”

  “I don’t,” Lucy said quickly. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Staples. I think.”

  “But I thought there weren’t any ghosts at Alma Aleron,” Ralph commented.

  Zane shrugged. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  Ralph rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Lucy said, “It means we aren’t at Alma Aleron anymore, are we? The regular rules don’t apply.”

  “Perhaps,” Petra mused, as if to herself. “Perhaps this place is the reason there are no ghosts at Alma Aleron. Perhaps the portal into the World Between the Worlds is like a ghostly magnet, sucking them in or driving them away, or even both at the same time.”

  “But that can’t be right,” James said. “Nobody can get through the Nexus Curtain without the proper key.”

  “I think that’s only true for the living,” Izzy commented thoughtfully. “The dead can get through all kinds of doorways that were closed while they were alive.”

  The ghost of Fredericka Staples nodded. When I died, there was a huge white light. I knew I was supposed to go to it, but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I was engaged to be married, you see. My life had barely just begun and I didn’t really know then that I had died. Not really. The light drew me to it, but I resisted it. And then, as I pushed back from the white light… something else began to pull at me. It was like the opposite of the white light… it was… a black hole, sort of. It was strong and I couldn’t control it. It pulled me in, and then… suddenly… I was here. At first, I thought this was the afterlife, but not for very long. It wasn’t either heaven or hell. It was just… here. And there were people here, sometimes.

  James blinked. “You’ve seen people here?”

  Fredericka looked at him and then gestured toward the ancient airship. More of the ships came once, a long time ago, she said in her thin, far-off voice. They looked just like that one, only bigger. They saw me and spoke to me. They’d traced the journey of the ones who came in that ship and asked me about them. I told them I was sorry, that I didn’t know anything about their missing friends. Then they used their tools to learn the truth—that evil magical people had captured the man and the unicorn and killed them—and then they discovered that the same had happened to me. They learned more, though. They learned that not all of the people from our world are like the ones who committed those acts. There are good ones among us, always fighting the bad, but the balance of power is forever changing. They determined that our world was too dangerous for them to explore, and built the black castle as a warning. It’s been there ever since, empty and silent. Until very recently.

  “You saw someone else,” Petra said. It wasn’t a question, but Fredericka nodded anyway, turning her attention to her.

  I saw, but I didn’t approach. I hid. I knew it was safer that way. Being a ghost has its benefits. Hardly anything can scare you anymore. But some things are worse than death. I hid and I watched.

  Petra seemed to understand this. “They went to the castle, didn’t they?”


  Fredericka nodded, unwilling or unable to say any more.

  “That’s where we’re going,” James said, and swallowed past a lump of fear in his throat. “We should keep moving, before it gets dark.”

  It never gets dark here, Fredericka instructed blandly. Nothing ever changes here at all. Not even time.

  “Come with us, Miss Staples,” Lucy suggested. “Maybe we can help you get back to our own world.”

  Fredericka considered this with obvious longing and then shook her head. I can’t go into the castle, she said. I was afraid to go inside even before… she… arrived. Now I can’t even bear to think of it.

  Petra said, “Do you know where the staircase is, Fredericka? The one that leads down to the cave portal?” When the ghost nodded, Petra smiled. “I think you’ll be able to get back yourself if you really want to. As long as we are here, the portal is open and it’ll take you back to our time and place. Perhaps you can get through and stay there if you try very hard.”

  Fredericka looked heartbreakingly hopeful. Do you really think so?

  “I don’t know,” Petra answered, but James thought she did. “Either way, it’s worth a try. Good luck, Fredericka.”

  “Good luck,” James added, and the others joined in.

  Thank you, Fredericka said faintly. I think I’m ready to go on now. Into the light, if I can, and whatever is beyond it. Maybe I’ll see you all again on the other side.

  “Later rather than sooner,” Ralph said quickly, and the ghost smiled her understanding. A moment later, she turned and seemed to fade from view as she drifted across the plateau.

  The gathering watched the ghost of Fredericka Staples vanish and then stood in the constantly shushing grass for a long moment, silent and thoughtful. Finally, still wordlessly, James turned back toward the castle. It stood tall and ominous on the near horizon, casting virtually no shadow in the diffuse light of the World Between the Worlds. The others turned around as well and looked up at the stark shape, weighing their own secret thoughts and fears.

  Slowly but surely, the six travelers resumed their journey.

  24. THROUGH THE CURTAINS

  As they neared the castle, the silence seemed to develop its own strange inertia. At first, James merely felt that there was nothing to say. And then, as the minutes passed, he began to feel as if spoken words would somehow spoil the moment—not because the moment was beautiful, of course, for it certainly was not, but because there was a brittleness in the air, a tension that spun out like spider’s silk, that James was loath to break. As the gathering finally approached the cliff’s edge upon which the black castle stood, James finally realized the truth of why everyone had grown so quiet: they were all afraid that there really was someone inside the castle, someone powerful and terrifying, who might hear even the softest whisper and come out to greet them.

  When they stood before the massive open gates of the castle, however, speech became necessary.

  James rasped, “Do we just go in? Should we… knock, like?”

  “We just go in,” Petra replied, her own voice hushed. “But keep a sharp eye out.”

  “Someone’s watching,” Lucy nearly moaned, peering up at the overhanging balconies.

  Petra nodded. “I know. They’re waiting for us.”

  James stepped alongside her as they moved into the shadow of the entryway. “Do you know who it is?”

  Petra shook her head and pressed her lips together.

  The inside of the castle was almost entirely empty. One enormous room yawned before the travelers, leaping up into shadowy vaults and stretching off toward pillared archways on the far side. The group’s footsteps echoed loudly in the darkness, making stealth impossible. The stone floor was covered with decades of blown grit and drifts of dead grass. As the troop crept into the center of the space, moving in a nervous huddle, James caught a hint of movement on the far wall. He peered into the darkness, squinting without his glasses, and made out a large framed shape. It was much larger than a man and filled with shifting shadows: a gently billowing curtain.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Zane muttered, looking in the same direction as James.

  Ralph nodded. “There are more of them. All around the room. I see at least a dozen.”

  “They’re escape routes,” Petra said in a low voice. “Placed here by those who built the castle for those unfortunate adventurers who might end up marooned here. Each curtain will take the stranded traveler back to the dimension from which they came, although the where and when might be a bit tetchy.”

  Nervously, Lucy asked, “How do you know these things, Petra?”

  Petra shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “So they’re all like mini Nexus Curtains,” James said, looking around wonderingly at the gently billowing portals.

  Ralph seemed heartened by this news. “So all of these will take us back to our own world?”

  “I’d beware of them,” Petra warned. “They’re under the influence of she who has taken this castle. They will do what they were made for, but not without her capricious tricks. You may find yourself in the bottom of the Dead Sea, or a hundred feet over a live volcano. Beware of these portals unless there is no other hope.”

  “Good advice indeed,” a woman’s voice said brightly. The sound of it echoed all around, rendering it huge and directionless. James startled, as did the rest of the group. All eyes scanned the dark space, seeking the speaker, but no one was evident.

  “Who are you?” Petra called out. “And why have you attacked our world?”

  “That’s not the question you really want answered,” the voice replied, still echoing broadly around the cavernous room. “Here, time may not mean much, but I assure you, in the world from which you come, it is still marching along as always, and there are things we must attend to, you and I. Let us not waste precious minutes on trivialities.”

  James raised his voice and ventured, “Where’s the crimson thread?”

  “A better question,” the woman’s voice answered, smiling, and a thin beam of light came into view, cutting through the heights of the room and alighting on a previously unnoticed scene.

  James turned toward it and was surprised at what he saw. A collection of utterly prosaic furniture was laid out in the unmistakable arrangement of a bedroom. There was a narrow bed and side table, a chest, a desk, and a high-backed chair, turned so that it faced away from the travelers.

  Petra’s hand squeezed James’ suddenly, nearly hard enough to hurt.

  “The thread is there,” the woman’s voice echoed in answer.

  James squinted toward the light. A small silver jewelry box sat open upon the desk. Visible just inside it was an opal brooch. Spooled around this, glinting in the light, was a length of metallic red thread.

  Zane gasped. “The missing thread!”

  Petra moaned, “My father’s brooch!”

  James broke away from the group. Steeling himself, he approached the desk, which stood nearest of all the furnishings. When he reached for the brooch, however, his hand froze. He felt the veins of his fingers go brittle a moment before the flesh crackled white all the way up to his wrist. Tendrils of icy vapor trailed behind as he yanked his hand away and hugged it to his chest, crying out in shock and fear.

  “That was unwise,” the woman’s voice said, smugly amused. “But instructive, I am quite sure. Only she who owns the brooch may approach it.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Petra demanded, striding toward James and taking his hand into both of her own. After a moment, James cried out again as the feeling returned to it. He flexed his fingers experimentally and then glanced thankfully at Petra.

  “I am not doing any of it,” the woman answered, and James finally thought he saw her. A figure stood disguised in the shadows beyond the beam of light. Even in the darkness, he recognized the shape of her—the hooded robe, framing that beautiful, arrogant face. It was the woman he had first met in the halls of the Aquapolis back at the beginning of their jour
ney. It was Judith, the Lady of the Lake.

  “You are right, James,” the woman said, as if reading his thoughts. She stepped forward slightly so that the light reflected up onto her features. “But only a little. I have taken the form of the woman that Merlinus once loved, but I have also adopted a trace of the woman your sorceress friend bargained for. If she looks at me closely, she will see it.”

  Petra peered past the beam of light toward the woman on the other side. Her face paled. “Mother?” she whispered.

  “I am both and I am neither,” the woman answered lightly, waving a hand. “I have borrowed from the shape of Merlin’s Judith and your own mother, my dear, partly because it amuses me and partly because it was the condition of the bargain.”

  “The bargain,” Petra said, still whispering. “But… I didn’t kill Izzy. The dreams I had at the beginning of our journey were wrong. Izzy didn’t die in the lake on that night. I called it off. The bargain was never completed.”

  “You didn’t kill Izabella,” the woman corrected, “but you did kill. You sent your stepmother into the lake in your sister’s place. By doing so, you only changed the conditions. The bargain itself was fulfilled. Your destiny insisted upon it. Thus, rather than recalling your beloved mother from the afterlife, you got… me. I arose from the lake on the night that you murdered your stepmother. You recalled me from the mists of the netherworld, my dear, in the place of your mother. I wish I could say that I was sorry, but alas, I am not.”

  “Who are you?” Petra asked again.

  “This is still not the question that begs to be asked,” the woman replied impatiently, “but if you must know, I am a Fate. There are three of us, although not in the way that you might think. The other two Fates do not know their own identities, and for now that suits me just fine. My true name would be unpronounceable to you, so you may simply call me Judith or the Lady of the Lake. I enjoy both titles.”