Inside the cottage Everett could see nothing. Even the fire in the hearth had gone out, leaving a thick, palpable gloom. Outside, a gust of wind rocked the elm trees and shook the cottage. Rain followed immediately, the same sort of relentless, bucketing rain that had plagued Hawkesbury all summer. He heard a great burbling, as from the overswollen stream, though the sound was too loud for that, almost like waves crashing on a shore. The earth trembled. The front door flew open with a bang at the same moment the moon broke from the clouds, backlighting a dark figure who stood in the lashing rain.
It growled: “Who’s callin’ us out in this infernal weather, then?”
The fire bloomed in the hearth again, flooding the room with a weak light, and in stepped a squat, dark-haired little man with a fierce scowl and a battle-axe propped over one shoulder.
“Is’t the Adept?” the creature said. “ ’Cause she owes me.”
Chapter 14
* * *
The Sea Hag’s Lesson
Holly jumped as Nerys pushed away from the table. “Earthfolk!” she spat. “What the devil is he doin’ here? The sea witch don’t mix with Earthfolk! Of all the nerve.” She padded squishily over to her stool. “Spell’s broken, thankee very much, I don’t think.”
Almaric dropped Holly’s hand and stood up. “Nonsense, Nerys. I’ve invited Bittenbender here to help us! And . . .” He looked questioningly at the Dvergar, who grunted and jerked a thumb behind him. Two other men, neither of them any taller than Ben, entered the cottage. Both were bearded, though one of them, who had a shock of very red hair, was clearly younger than the other, who was dark like Bittenbender and wore a squashed hat over a low, beetling brow.
Bittenbender waved them forward. “This here’s Swikehard”—he indicated the dark-haired Dvergar—“and our ginger’s Wiggers. He’s not long a man, but good in a fecht, all the same.”
Bittenbender’s was the first familiar face Holly had seen that didn’t prompt her to give him a hug. “This is my brother, Ben, and our friend Everett,” she said. “This is Bittenbender, leader of the Dvergar.”
“I recall ’em,” said Bittenbender. “The cause of all the trouble, if memory serves.”
“Or you might say,” said Almaric, “the catalyst that brought us all together. Had we not united to rescue these boys—”
“Then some of my men would still be with us.” The little man scowled at Holly. “Did ye know about that? The king has been hunting us ever since the Battle of Midsummer, and here I am again, coming to Yer Ladyship’s aid.”
In Holly’s experience the Dvergar did very little that did not benefit himself. “We’re glad you’re here,” she said, trying to mean it. “But what about the sea witch?”
“The spell’s cast. She’ll come when she’s needed, if the magic wasn’t broken too soon,” Nerys said from her sulky corner.
“But she ain’t here yet?” said Swikehard. He slid a dark look toward Bittenbender.
“Then this mission’s a lot o’ blethers,” the leader said. “Where’s yer magic, Lady? Ain’t that meant to be worth somethin’?”
A loud argument erupted on all sides. Almaric berated the Dvergar for not showing Holly the proper respect; Bittenbender bellowed that he wasn’t sending his men to get slaughtered; Ben said they were ready to take on the knights, whatever the cost; and Holly tried to quiet them all down. But what actually got everyone’s attention was the Dvergar throwing his dagger into the center of the table. It stuck upright and thrummed.
“Tha’s better,” he said grimly. “Here’s our position, Lady Adept. We’ll stay the night and no longer. Iffin ye can’t come up with a real plan by nightfall tomorrow, we’re heading back to the settlement.” He sheathed the dagger and motioned to Swikehard and Wiggers. “Come on, lads. We’ve no problem sleepin’ in the glaur. Although”—he looked pointedly at Almaric—“we’d not say no to a nippy.”
Almaric groaned and rummaged around for a bottle of something dark to give to the Dvergar. Once he’d brought it to them and returned, Holly said, “We can’t be sure the sea witch is coming. We’ll have to figure out another plan, and fast, or Bittenbender and his men won’t stay to help us either.”
“Don’t jump down my throat,” Ben said, “but what about that other idea? The—drowning thing.”
“No.” She glared at Ben and looked for a moment very like her mother.
“Okay, okay. Then what about some other spell? Almaric, didn’t you teach Holly that Vanish-me thing? You must know some other ones.”
“I have my own spells, of course, Ben. But a magician’s magic is quite different to the Adepts’. You must understand, I was a friend to them—as much as they had friends—but they guarded their spellwork jealously. I happened to see the Vanishment performed, but I hardly have a catalog of spells at my disposal. That is . . .” He trailed off, then busied himself with the kettle again.
Jade narrowed his green eyes. “What is it you’re not telling us, Almaric?”
“What? Nothing, nothing. The tea is about ready, I think.”
“Blast the tea,” Everett said. “If you know something that can help us, out with it.”
“No, indeed. It was forbidden for magicians—for anyone—to study the Adepts’ grimoires. Obviously, I would have had no such access.” The old man cleared his throat and blinked nervously at the sea hag. “However, Nerys . . .”
“Thought ye didn’t like my spells,” said Nerys, squeezing a slug from one armpit. “Besides, Samhain’s nearly past and I’m dryin’ out. Gots to be gettin’ back to the sea, I do.”
“Nerys, please,” said Holly. “Do you know anything I could use that wouldn’t kill the guards? Maybe just put them to sleep?”
The sea hag rocked herself off her stool, puddling the floor. She jabbed a fat finger at Holly. “You. Alone.” She jerked her head toward the door.
Holly followed her outside, under the dripping trees. The moon was nearly full, but hidden mostly behind the clouds again. Off to the other side of the cottage, Holly could hear the Dvergar’s noisy snores. Nerys sat down with a squish on one of the tree stumps and invited Holly to join her, as if it were her house.
“About time you and I had a little girl talk, dearie,” she said. “These others—the magician, the lads, even the Dvergar—not real magicfolk like the two of us, eh?” She nudged Holly with one slimy elbow. “Here now. I gots a giftie for ye.”
She reached into the folds of her foul dress and pulled out a remarkably dry circlet made of small purple flowers. “It’s the heather, like yer own wand contains.”
Holly glanced down at her scabbard, surprised.
“Ye can’t hide it, dearie. The water herb calls out louder’n a willow whale, innit?”
“This is very nice, Nerys.” Holly didn’t want to offend the sea hag, but she was more interested in spells than accessories just at the moment.
“It grants ye power over the water element,” Nerys said. “Ye’ve not got much time ter be learnin’ new spells, and this charm will give yer magic a boost. Put it on now, an’ I’ll show ye the spell I’ve in mind. It calls the water. See here.” Nerys closed her eyes and mouthed a few words. A cluster of raindrops trembled on the yellow leaves of a nearby pin oak. They pulled together like quicksilver, flew through the air, and poured in a stream over Nerys’s head.
“It casts a waterfall,” Nerys said as the water sluiced off her. “It’ll hold those it touches in a trance, if it’s done right.”
She snuffled, then blew a snail out of one nostril and tossed it in her mouth. “Ye’ll need to practice it. The sea hag don’t need to speak a spell aloud, but Adept magic’s different. Commit the words to yer mind: tubhair eas. Try it on me. I’m dry as a stone.”
Holly pointed the wand at the trees and thought of the heather, and the words tubhair eas. Then she uttered them.
The wand bucked in her hands, and a shower of rainwater shook off the branches. It didn’t gather in a nice stream as it had for Nerys, who frowned
at her. “The heather. Put it round yer neck.” She pointed at the circlet of flowers, which Holly still held in one hand.
“Don’t, Lady Holly.” Jade crept out of the cottage doorway into the moonlight.
“And who asked you, then?” Nerys jerked her head around and snarled. A cloud of steam rose off her shoulders. “I was meant to speak with the Adept alone. She’s born of fire, innit? She holds the Salamander.”
Nerys gave Holly a slimy grin and laughed to cover her anger. “Fire Adepts do have their problems with water magic, Lady. Fire and water—they don’t mix. I’m jus’ tryin’ ter help. Ye can’t call the water otherwise, without practicin’ the craft day and night. I was made to think ye didn’t have all day and night.”
“And I say the Adept will not be donning your charm.” Jade leaped onto the tree stump, sniffed at the heather circlet in Holly’s hand, then pointed at her belt loop. “Attach it there.”
Nerys fixed Jade with her bulbous eyes and Holly backed away. Whatever help the sea hag was giving, Holly would follow Jade’s advice first. She tied the heather flowers to her belt loop, raised her wand, and uttered the spell again. This time a silver snakeling of water flew through the air and doused Nerys, who glared at Holly and Jade both. “Well,” she said finally. “Guess my work is done, then.”
Chapter 15
* * *
To the Castle
They were a tense, strange party that crept through the woods the following night. Hoofstone, a palomino centaur, had arrived an hour before. He carried Holly, Everett, Jade, and Bittenbender. A russet centaur named Brune carried the others. Ben, who was very allergic to horses, had taken his medicine but still sniffled constantly until Wiggers whispered, “Put a sock in it, can’t ye?” Ben, Holly observed, deliberately wiped his nose on the back of the Dvergar’s leather tunic.
Holly had spent the day practicing the few spells she knew. As she worked, she could hear the boys on the other side of the clearing. The red-haired Wiggers was helping them with their swordplay. This sounded something like, “Hey, you don’t have to poke so hard” (Ben) and “I am feinting, quit nagging, you little git” (Everett) and “Ef ye cannae even heft a sword, ye’ve no hope of swingin’ one” (Wiggers).
Now, riding through the night on Hoofstone’s back, Holly touched Nerys’s charm on her belt loop. She was glad to have it, even if it felt a little like cheating. She agreed with Jade; she was glad the sea witch hadn’t shown up. Only the king or Raethius knew where to find the Adepts’ island, and without their nautical charts, searching for it seemed like a pointless voyage. But Holly still needed someone to train her, and no one else knew the Adepts’ spells. For now she was on her own.
Once the centaurs had cleared the woods, they broke into a gallop along the edge of the forest leading to the castle. Holly was forced to wrap her arms around Bittenbender to keep from falling off, and the crossbow on his back cut into her chest. Also, the smell wasn’t particularly pleasant.
Within the hour Holly spied the harsh stone fortress rising on its rocky cliff. A river fed the moat that ringed it. The falcons were right: Raethius had reduced one of the castle’s four towers to a pile of rubble. Her ears ached from the cold wind, and she eyed the sky warily. The huge, round moon threw stark shadows across their path. They may as well have announced themselves with a bullhorn.
“Courage, Lady Holly,” Jade whispered as the shadow of the gatehouse towers fell across them. “It is an Adept’s greatest asset.”
Actually, Holly thought that magic was an Adept’s greatest asset, and she still wished she knew more about it. But they crept silently along the length of the moat, their sounds muffled by the gently coursing water. Bittenbender tapped on Hoofstone’s shoulder. “Right, now. Stick to the plan. After ye cross back, the two of ye wait, hear? No chargin’ in. We’re not takin’ the castle, after all. We’ll need ye only if the Adept’s spell fails us.”
Hoofstone nodded. “For Ranulf.”
Bittenbender drew his dagger. The other Dvergar followed suit. Ben’s sword screeched as he pulled it out, and Swikehard shoved him. “Keep quiet!”
“Leave him alone!” Holly raised the wand to Swikehard’s face.
The Dvergar muttered an oath, and they stepped along the bank of the moat toward the gatehouse. The drawbridge had been raised for the night, and the water shown black in the shadows of the gatehouse towers.
Now came Holly’s part of the plan. Please don’t make me look like an idiot. She nodded at Jade and raised her wand.
It trembled over the surface of the water as she closed her eyes. A comforting warmth spread up to her chilled ears and back to her stiff fingers. She pictured gathering the water, and uttered the sea hag’s spell: “Tubhair eas.”
The whole group skipped back from the moat as a silver wave collected itself and flew out of the water. “Wow!” said both of the boys together. Even the Dvergar’s faces shone as the moonlight struck the wave’s tip.
“Halt!” cried one of guards on the far side of the moat. He was hidden in the shadow of the gatehouse, but Holly saw the shape of the crossbow he raised. “Who comes, in the name of the king?”
“That’s Pagett,” Everett whispered.
Just as he spoke, the snakelike tube of water paused over Pagett’s head. Then in a rush, it descended. They could just make out the moon’s reflection. The knight spoke no more.
“Halt, I say!” came another voice, but a second wave poured over the top of the first.
“That one’s Gervase,” Ben said. Now all they could hear was the constant rush of the waterfalls over the knights’ heads.
Holly hoped Nerys was right, that they were only enchanted and not drowned.
She nodded to the centaurs. The Mounted slipped silently into the moat, their heads just above the water.
Holly almost cried out at the shock. Though not deep, the water was icy. Jade winced and shook his fur. Ben’s teeth chattered as he clung to Wiggers on Brune’s back. Silently, they forded the moat. As they drew up to the lip of the gatehouse, Holly saw the two knights behind a giant cascade of water. It tumbled over them back to the moat and over the top again like a perpetual fountain. Behind the glassy water, the knights’ eyes were closed, but they seemed to be alive.
Holly knew the spell wouldn’t hold for long. She pulled herself up into the gatehouse, then helped Ben and Everett as the Dvergar dismounted. The centaurs nodded to Holly and crossed back to the other side of the moat. They were far too big a group, Holly thought; it was only a matter of time before someone coughed or Ben sneezed, and every guard came running.
Past the gatehouse they walked under a portcullis into a narrow passageway. It was open above to a kind of catwalk. Another portcullis loomed over the far end of the passage. Holly knew the iron gates could be lowered with a single blow to the winch chain, trapping all of them in the castle. She was sure she heard footfalls above on the catwalk, but when she peered into the gloom, she saw no one.
They walked more or less single file, with Everett in front. He knew the castle layout better than anyone, because King Reynard’s castle was a mirror image of Darton Castle in Hawkesbury back in England. Holly followed behind him. She wanted to keep her wand extended, but Bittenbender hissed, “D’ye want to tell the whole castle we’ve got an Adept with us? It’s weapons ye’ll be needing, lass.” Holly stowed the wand and pulled out a small dagger instead. They glided silently as a group beneath the second portcullis and into the castle proper.
Now, Holly thought, we’re in real danger.
Chapter 16
* * *
To the Dungeon
The whole plan seemed foolhardy now. If they had split up, they might not be noticed—kids walking around the castle would be mistaken for pages, and the Dvergar were short enough that they might be too. But with all of them together . . . and yet, how else could they proceed? Swikehard and Wiggers brought up the rear, their swords drawn, and Ben stuck so close to Holly that the point of his sword kept poking
her shoulder blade. Everett led them through several passages until they stepped into the arched walkway surrounding two sides of a silent, moonlit courtyard.
They halted at a sound from the arcade just opposite them.
“D’ye call this food for a prisoner?” It was a gravelly voice belonging to someone used to shouting a lot.
Everett turned back to Holly, his green eyes so round, they took up most of his face. Grandor, he mouthed.
Holly recognized him: the knight who had tried to kill them—more than once. The little group shrank into the shadows of the arcade.
“Sorry, my lord,” came a smaller, squeakier voice. “But it’s for—”
“What matter who it’s for? He’s a prisoner, same as the rest. Do we feed him from the king’s table?”
“N-no, my lord, from my own supper only.”
“That be folly, Dart. A squire needs strength. A traitor needs none. Bread is his fare. Now go.”
The group shrank behind the arcade pillars as the knight strode into the courtyard. A chill danced across Holly’s shoulders, even where Áedán warmed her skin. The moonlight glinted off Grandor’s chain mail and his dark hair. A cruel scar quivered down his cheek; one burly hand twitched against his scabbard. Holly held her breath, willing him to walk away. A moment later his footfalls faded into the shadows.
“That was close,” Ben whispered.
“The lad looks easy enough to deal with,” Bittenbender said. “If he’s the only dungeon guard—”
“He’s just a squire,” said Everett. “And an all-right bloke at that.”
“He’s not even armed,” said Ben. “We’re not killing any kids, and for sure not Dart.”
“Ben’s right,” Holly whispered. “Nobody hurts him. That’s final.”
“So ye’re the general now, lass?” Bittenbender said in a low voice.
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