by Brian Farrey
Nearby, Nanni ducked to hide in the shadows. She walked slowly toward me, drawing a line in the sand with a long stick. Occasionally, sparks flew when the stick touched the invisible magical barrier Nanni was outlining. As she finished, Nanni joined me on the ground.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
I nodded. “Couple gaolglobes near the tree,” I reported. “Few other traps. Nothing we can’t handle.”
A faint rustling in the tree above told us Ma was on her way down. She dropped next to us as the Sentinels on the wall pivoted and turned their gaze in our direction. Seeing nothing, they continued their patrol.
Ma held up my fob watch. “I like punctual guards,” she said, “and those two are very punctual. Move like clockwork.” She kept an eye on the watch’s second hand as the Sentinels marched past. “And . . . turn.”
On Ma’s cue, the Sentinels spun around on their heels and began walking back in the other direction. “We’ve got a six-second window,” Ma said, “where neither of them will be looking in this direction.”
“Six seconds?”
Da had just joined us, crawling over fallen logs and bushes from where he’d been spying.
“Six whole seconds?” he repeated. “That’s very generous of them! It’s like they’re begging us to break in.” He held up Ma’s rubyeye, which he’d been using to spot magical traps between us and the wall.
“Everyone know what to do?” Ma asked, pulling a black cowl over her head.
Nanni picked up the tinderjack pod filled with explosive powder. “Is this thing safe?”
“Not at all,” I said.
Nanni tucked it under her arm. “Oh, bangers. Well, good luck!” She touched her finger to her temple, then scurried off into the dark of the woods.
We kept an eye on the Sentinels marching back and forth. Ma nodded her head in time with the watch’s second hand. “Ready?” she asked. “Go!”
Atop the wall, the Sentinels looked away. I jumped to my feet and brought my toes right up to the line Nanni had drawn. Reaching out, I touched the tip of the Vanguard to the invisible barrier. The air rippled, a cascade of sparks fell to the ground, and the magical shield dissolved. We belly crawled forward until we reached the base of a giant mokka tree just a few feet from the wall.
Hidden behind the mokka, Da dug his fingers into the tree’s trunk. As he pulled, a curved section of bark hinged open like a door, revealing a ladder inside the hollow tree. Ma produced a small lantern and led us down the secret passage.
We came to a horizontal tunnel that took us under the perimeter wall. Ma looked admiringly at the walls.
“This takes me back, Ona,” she said to Da with a wistful sigh. “Remember those late nights digging this out?”
Da grinned. “How could I forget?”
The long tunnel ended in a ladder leading up. Da climbed first. He pressed on a square stone overhead. The trapdoor swung up on a hinge and Da disappeared into the ceiling. Ma and I followed him, emerging into a very familiar room. Iron bars, rickety furniture, smelly hay bales. The Grimjinx summer home.
Also known as the Vengekeep gaol.
I pushed the trapdoor shut with a thud.
“Who’s there?” a voice hissed in the darkness behind us. Ma held her lantern at arm’s length. There, huddled in the corner, was a man wearing rags. He held a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the light.
“Castellan Jorn?”
Jorn had looked better. He’d lost a lot of weight and was almost unrecognizable. His skin was pale and his eyes had sunken deeper into his head. One look at us and he collapsed to his knees.
“Wasn’t my life bad enough?” he moaned. “Why did you people have to come back?”
“Castellan, what are you doing here?” Ma asked.
“The Palatinate arrested anyone who remained loyal to the House of Soranna!” he spat. “That woman—that Nalia—moved into my house.”
“With the rest of the Lordcourt?” Da asked.
Jorn shook his head. “She’s the only member of the Lordcourt still alive. She leads the Palatinate from my house. Can you believe it?”
“And are you?” I asked.
The Castellan stammered. “A-am I what?”
“Loyal to the House of Soranna?”
I’d never liked Jorn much. None of us had. We thought he was slimy and only out for self-glory. But he gained our respect that day when he held his flabby chin up and said, “Now and always.”
“Splendid!” Da said. “Then you won’t mind us giving the Palatinate what for, I take it?”
The Castellan, purely out of habit, started to object. But he changed his mind when he realized that, for once, we were all on the same side. “How can I help?”
I held up a sketch of the relics. “The Palatinate stole these four magic relics. They use them to control the Sourcefire.”
The Castellan nodded. “Yes, but I heard they lost the Sourcefire. The relics are useless now.”
“But do they still have the relics?” Ma asked.
“Of course. Nalia keeps them in a safe in my house. . . . Wait a minute. . . .” The Castellan studied the floor. “How did you get in here?”
“The tunnel, of course,” Ma said. “It comes out just past the perimeter wall.”
You’d think the Castellan would have been more grateful, seeing as we’d just rescued him. But he couldn’t let it go. “There’s a tunnel that leads from the gaol to just outside Vengekeep’s walls? How long has that been there?”
Da beamed. “We dug it out right around Jaxter’s first birthday.”
The Castellan’s cheeks puffed up in rage. “You mean that every time I had you locked in here, you could have gotten out?”
“Yes, but we didn’t,” Ma said sweetly, as if that made everything okay. “We only built it as a precaution. Thankfully, you were never very good at making charges stick.”
The Castellan burbled a bit. When he calmed down, he said, “Then let’s take your tunnel and leave—”
“Can’t do that,” Ma said. “We didn’t break into gaol for fun . . . although it was sort of fun. No, we’ve got something to do.”
Ma pulled a perfect replica of the gaol cell key from her tunic pocket. Reaching through the bars, she unlocked the door from within.
“A key?” The Castellan’s breathy whisper was nearly as loud as his shouting voice. “You’ve got a key too?”
“Of course we do,” Ma said. “One of my finest forgeries.”
His fists clenched, the Castellan shook with silent fury.
As the cell door swung open, we crept out and toward the stairs that led up into the Protectorate’s office.
“You can’t go there!” Jorn said. “The Sentinels use this as headquarters.”
“That is a concern,” Da said.
“We’ll just have to go out the other way,” Ma said. She walked over to the far wall and pressed a discolored brick at waist height. Click. Ma shoved the wall forward, revealing a dark passage. Jorn stood there, dumbfounded.
“You had another way out of gaol?” he asked.
“Comes out near the bakery,” I said.
“I hate you people,” Jorn muttered, shaking his head. “I really hate you people.”
“Now, Castellan,” Ma said, hooking her arm around Jorn’s and leading him into the passage, “I know you’ve been down here a long time but I’m sure you hear things. So tell us . . . where is Aubrin?”
We descended the stairs into the catacombs below the town-state hall. A familiar, dank smell met my nose. My last trip down here hadn’t been much fun. I didn’t imagine this one would be any better.
“Why would they keep her down here?” I asked, looking around. The walls were still lined with racks holding glass tubes that contained hundreds of prophetic tapestries. The room we were in was the first of many identical rooms. There was no telling where Aubrin was.
“It’s like Jorn said,” Da reminded me. “The Palatinate figures this is the safest place i
n the event the Scourge attacks. They need to keep Aubrin safe.”
“Speaking of Jorn, do you think he’ll be okay? Should we have left him with—?”
“He’s a grown man, Jaxter. He’ll be fine.”
Ma nodded to a pile of crates and barrels, labeled as food and water. The pile went all the way up to the ceiling. “My guess is the Palatinate plans to hide down here when the Scourge comes.”
“Hiding won’t do any good.”
The small voice pierced my heart. Aubrin stood in the doorway to the next chamber. Shackles bound her wrists to the wall and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.
Ma ran to her. “Are you okay?”
Aubrin pointed to the tubes containing prophecies. “Of course. Since I’ve been down here, I’ve made a fortune.”
Prophecies. Fortunes. If Aubrin was making bad jokes, she was fine.
As Ma picked the lock on Aubrin’s shackles, my sister sighed. “It’s been fun lying to the Palatinate about the prophecies I’ve had. I told them the only way to defeat the Scourge was for everyone in Vengekeep to dance the Aviard two-step. I don’t think they believed me.”
Da patted her on the shoulder. “That’s my girl. You don’t tell those bad mages anything.”
Aubrin took my hand. “Jaxter, listen, I have to tell you about the vision I had yesterday. It’s very important—”
“Yes, please do. I’m all ears.”
I stiffened, instantly recognizing the voice behind us. Nalia stepped into the room from the staircase, her spellsphere aglow.
“How did you know we were here?” Ma asked.
Nalia chuckled, a magical shimmer roiling across her monocle. “The infamous Grimjinx clan. Your heists are legendary. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you came up with a plan that wasn’t totally foolproof . . . or rather a plan where someone realized it was more valuable to turn you in.”
Footsteps sounded behind Nalia. The shadowy figure that stepped into the room hung his head low. He shuffled as he moved to Nalia’s side.
It was Uncle Garax.
40
The Key and the Keep
“There is no gaol more fortified than a thief’s disgrace.”
—Ancient par-Goblin proverb
“Garax!” Da said through clenched teeth. “You followed us here from the mill!”
“Of course I did,” Garax said, shrugging. “You lot, sneaking out in the middle of the night. I figured you were turning your backs on everyone and going out on a really lucrative heist. Didn’t expect you to come here.”
“Money’s useless these days,” I said. “They can’t pay you.”
“What the Palatinate’s got is better than money, isn’t it?” Garax asked. “There’s a horde of monsters tearing the land apart. I figure my best bet for safety is with these magic folks. So, yeah, I warned them you were here.” He nodded at Nalia and lowered his voice. “But, you know, when the Scourge is gone and everything’s back on track, you’re gonna pay me, right?”
“What happens next,” Nalia said, her eyes fixed on Aubrin, “depends on the augur. I want you to tell me everything you know about the Scourge. I want to hear every vision you’ve had. You’ve been refusing to tell me for weeks. And I had no way to persuade you. But now . . .”
Nalia spoke a word. A bolt of green lightning shot from the spellsphere, striking Da on the chest. He howled and fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Ma dropped to her knees to help him.
“I’m all right,” Da said weakly.
“Now, augur,” Nalia continued, “I have some incentive for you. You’re going to tell me about the Scourge, or I’ll kill your family. One by one.”
Aubrin looked up at me, tears filling her eyes. I put my hand on her arm and nodded. “Tell her what you know, Jinxface.”
“Listen to your brother,” Nalia said. “You’re beaten. I’m the only one who can help you now. Their rescue plan has failed and—”
Suddenly, the entire room shook as an explosion sounded over our heads. Nalia looked around. She saw my entire family smiling back.
“Or,” I said, winking at Nalia, “this was all part of a clever plot to lure you away from the Castellan’s house so my grandmother could destroy the relics.”
Nalia’s eyes grew twice as large as she pieced it all together. She glared at Uncle Garax, who smirked and waved.
“So sorry to lie to you, your evil awfulness,” Garax said, tugging at his shirt collar. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m really terrified of you. But I betrayed my brother once, you see, and I learned that there’s something out there I fear more than you and the Palatinate and the Scourge put together: my mother.”
Garax crouched, ready to lunge at Nalia. But the mage used her monocle to see five seconds into the future. Before Garax could move, she barked a word of magic. A shaft of white light pulsed from the spellsphere and turned Uncle Garax to glass.
Exactly as we planned.
With Garax distracting her, I made my move. The Vanguard, safe in my pocket, shielded me from her magic monocle. I tackled Nalia at the waist, sending her spellsphere flying. An instant later, Ma and Da were tying the mage to the tapestry racks.
“You won’t need this anymore,” Ma said, slipping Nalia’s monocle into her pocket as the mage thrashed helplessly.
I pulled the Vanguard from my pocket and touched it to Uncle Garax. The glass fell from him like running water. He gasped for air.
“I can’t believe I agreed to let her do that to me,” Garax said, shaking his arms to get the feeling back. “How did you know she wouldn’t just kill me?”
“We didn’t,” Ma said.
“So it worked, then?” Da asked Garax, securing a gag around Nalia’s mouth.
“They never doubted my performance for a second,” Garax said proudly. “Oh, they were a mite cautious when I drove the house up to Vengekeep’s gates. But once I told them who I was, they let me right in. They figured if I ratted you out once, I’d do it again. See, I told you that first time would pay off.”
Da called Garax a name I don’t feel comfortable repeating. Let’s just say he called him a liar.
“So they didn’t search the house?” I asked.
We’d ridden in the Ghostfire house from the mill and hidden it in the woods while we checked out the town-state’s defenses. When Ma, Da, and I went through the tunnel to the gaol, Nanni hid in the house. Once the mages let Garax drive the house inside Vengekeep, Nanni sneaked out and rigged the Castellan’s house to explode with the tinderjack.
“Why would they?” Garax said, flashing me a smile. “They trusted me. Like our great-great-grandfather Alphorax Grimjinx used to say, ‘Trust is—’”
“Whoo!”
Nanni waddled down the stairs, a plume of smoke wafting off her head. Her face was blackened with soot and her eyes were wide with shock. “That tinderjack is powerful stuff! Where can I get some more?”
Da pulled tightly on the ropes that bound Nalia’s wrists. “Did you find the relics?”
“Blew ’em all up,” Nanni said. “And most of the Castellan’s house. We don’t have to pay for that, do we?”
“Where is the Castellan?” I asked.
“He’s setting diversionary fires a few streets over,” Nanni said. “The Sentinels won’t know where to look first. Which reminds me, we need to get moving. They’ll be here soon.”
We all ran up the stairs, out of the town-state hall, and into the street. Citizens of Vengekeep had already appeared to watch the Castellan’s beautiful mansion burn to the ground.
Da clapped his hands together. “All right, everyone. You know what to do now. We have to keep the mages as far from the Keep as possible.” He nudged me with his elbow. “You ready, son?”
I nodded, hoping the churning of my stomach wouldn’t tell another story.
Uncle Garax reached behind his back and produced a small bag. “You’ll be needing this. When I first arrived, they took me right to the Castellan’s house. I nicked this when Na
lia wasn’t looking.” From inside, he pulled the magic dagger that opened the Keep. Garax squinted at it in the dark. “That’s funny, I coulda sworn it was glowing before. . . .”
Ma reached for Aubrin’s hand. “I’m going with Jaxter,” Aubrin said. “I can help him.” Ma looked skeptical but nodded once in agreement.
“All right, everyone . . . scatter!” Ma said. Da, Nanni, and Garax ran in different directions. The people of Vengekeep applauded. Just then, scores of mages in long flowing robes emptied into the road, spellspheres at the ready. They fired bolts of magic after my departing family, who dodged this way and that before disappearing from view. The mages, not even noticing me and Aubrin, gave chase.
“Let’s go, Jinxface!”
We sprinted through the shadowy streets toward the ancient Keep.
“Jaxter, listen to me,” Aubrin said, puffing as she ran. “I had another vision yesterday. A vision about you. This one was much clearer. I know what’s going to happen.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “I promise to avoid big pillars of light. We don’t have time to talk about it now.”
“But I was wrong!” she said, squeezing my hand. “It wasn’t a pillar of light. It was—”
An explosion to our left, followed by a scream, sent us falling to the ground. I peered down an alley into the next street over. Nanni, holding her skirts up, ran nimbly away from a pair of pursuing mages. She gave us a friendly wave as she passed.
“Come on,” I said, yanking Aubrin up and continuing forward. We wove through the streets we knew so well until at last, far from the fighting, we came to the Keep.
The face on the stone warrior that guarded the Keep door had long since eroded away. I took a deep breath, walked up to the statue, and placed the dagger’s hilt in its hand. The statue should have slid aside to reveal the door. But nothing happened.
“Did I do it wrong?” I asked Aubrin.
She went up and spun the dagger upside down, placing the stone blade into the warrior’s hand. Nothing. I grabbed the dagger and examined it. Had Uncle Garax grabbed the wrong dagger? Why wasn’t it . . . ?
“Oh, no.”
