Broken Spells

by D. W. Moneypenny

  “But how?” Sam asked. “It looks solid.”

  “The walls of the Apex are not completely opaque from the inside, like a two-way mirror. It affords the curate privacy while providing her a way to watch over us.”

  “How do you get up there?” Mara asked.

  “Acolytes do not enter the Apex without an invitation from the curate, and that rarely happens,” he said.

  “Let me put it this way,” she said. “How does Curate Tran get up there?”

  “Via a spiral staircase within the Bowraith Spire.” Gordon pointed to the central column that served as a backdrop to the stage they faced. “Additionally four bridges span from the Apex to the observation decks at the four corners.”

  He spun around and pointed to a horizontal pill-shaped bulge in the wall above the tunnel they had just exited. It vaguely reminded Mara of a skybox in a stadium with a panel of large windows embedded across its facade.

  “I don’t see any bridges,” Sam said.

  “The bridges are built into the ceiling of the Arboretum and connect the observation decks and the Apex from above. They were specifically constructed to not clutter the open-air design of the building,” he said.

  “Or to mask the movements of the curate,” Ping said.

  “Curate Tran has nothing to hide from us,” Gordon said.

  “Of course not,” Ping said. “Can you tell us how this place was constructed? From the exterior, the building appears to be framed by the appendages of the bowraiths ringing its base.”

  “The entire structure is an extension of the bowraiths. Only the alcoves in the foundation were constructed by acolytes. The rest of the building grew from the bowraiths. Once they were mounted in the alcoves, they extended their appendages—both branches and vines—to frame the Arboretum. Once that was done, the walls and other features were extruded from the appendages,” he said.

  “Extruded?” Mara asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Once the frame was in place, the branches and vines forming the skeleton of the Arboretum extruded a sap-like substance that filled in the walls and other features,” he said.

  “How long did it take to build?” Mara asked.

  “The building was framed in three days. The finishing, or extruding process, took a week. Then another week to solidify,” he said.

  “Amazing,” Ping said. “Less than three weeks to build such a massive structure.”

  “It is a living, breathing building—a botanical creature of monumental proportions,” Gordon said.

  Mara frowned. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

  A blaring sound, sort of a muffled air-raid horn filled the air. Everyone pulled back toward the tunnel entrance.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “An intruder alert,” the acolyte said.

  “Now they sound the alarm?”

  From the doors along the periphery of the open portion of the Arboretum, dozens if not hundreds of acolytes—many of them still pulling on their robes and cowling their heads—poured onto the main floor. Several jogged passed them toward the entrance to the building, and Gordon made a move in that direction.

  Sam grabbed his shoulder. “Whoa. Where do you think you are going?”

  “My alert position is on the east side of the drawbridge entrance. I must go now,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about that. You will stay with us until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”

  Gordon nodded without argument.

  “We need to do something,” Mara said as she watched robed figures purposefully moving around the floor. Many headed toward the center column while others disappeared past the vine-covered walls on either side of the Chamber of Flame. “If we stand around gawking while everyone else is moving, someone will notice.”

  “What do you suggest? Should we make our way to the Bowraith Spire and attempt to get to the Apex?” Ping asked.

  Mara turned to Gordon. “You said a bridge leads from the Apex through the ceiling to the skyboxes—those observations decks. There must be a way to get to the observations decks from down here, right?”

  He nodded. “There are stairs across from the corridor that lead to the dressing room. The door is hidden, but it is accessible.”

  “All right, here’s the plan. We need to ensure that Tran can’t slip away with Mara before we get to her, so I think we need to split into two teams and come at her from both directions. Mom and I will head to the Bowraith Spire and go that way. Gordon will take the two of you to the stairs. Make your way toward the Apex from the observations deck. If it all works out, we should meet up somewhere in the middle. After we get Mara, we’ll make a run for it via the bridge in the ceiling, so we don’t have to run across the open floor. Does that make sense?” she asked.

  “A pincer move,” Ping said. “It should have the highest odds of success.”

  Ginger let out a loud squeal that made everyone jump.

  “What is it?” Mara asked Diana, who was being jerked off balance by the chobodon pulling the leash in the direction of the interior of the Arboretum. She turned up her snout as she grunted several times.

  “She’s caught Mara’s scent. All of the movement out there has stirred up the air, and she’s picking up Mara’s trail,” Diana said.

  “I was hoping she’d go with Ping and Sam,” Mara said.

  “It would be difficult to get her to take a roundabout course to Mara. Like I said, once she gets the scent, walls and obstacles aren’t something she’s good at navigating. Sam and Ping won’t be able to manage her.”

  “Okay, let’s take her with us. We’ll try to hide her under our robes,” Mara said, turning to Ping and Sam. “You guys take off, and please be careful.”

  * * *

  Mara took Diana’s arm in hopes of helping her maintain balance while walking somewhat bowlegged with Ginger hidden beneath her robe. Holding the chobodon’s leash in both hands in front of her, the white belt of her garment, for the most past, masked the teal leash. They followed the flow of the crowd into the seating area and didn’t appear to be drawing anyone’s attention. Mara hoped people took her mother’s odd gait as an infirmity and Mara’s grip on the sleeve of her robe as solicitousness.

  The acolytes took their seats in an orderly manner, filling one row without leaving any gaps and then filling the next row back. As it came time for them to step into their row, Mara pulled back, not wanting to get trapped in the middle. While making a point of looking down so her cowl obscured her face, she waved the acolytes behind them to go ahead.

  “What is the matter?” the female acolyte next in line asked.

  “We need to sit on the end of the row in case my mother needs medical attention,” Mara said.

  For a second, the acolyte didn’t move forward but simply stood there, as if she didn’t know how to respond. Then a loud snort came from beneath Diana’s robe, and the acolyte jumped, clearly startled.

  “Heavens,” she said. “Be well, sister.”

  Several acolytes slipped past Diana and her mother until two seats were left at the end of the row. Diana gave Ginger a nudge, and she slipped from beneath the robe, squeezing into the space beneath the second seat from the end. Mara glanced around to see if they had been detected—and no one appeared to be paying attention to them—and then nodded to her mother. They sat down.

  Several minutes later, a robed figure walked across the stage and stood at a podium beneath the circular banner adorned with flames. From the figure’s position and angle, Mara could see the jaw, which featured a five-o’clock shadow. It’s not Curate Tran. While there was no murmuring from the crowd to be hushed, Mara sensed everyone’s attention shift forward.

  “Once all are seated, we will begin,” the man at the podium said.

  Mara twisted in her seat. Acolytes filed into the back row of seats and sat down.

  The acolyte on the stage cleared his throat and said, “Very well, brothers and sisters. Let us begin with the accounting.”

 
; Someone on the front row called out in a projected, but not particularly loud voice, “One.”

  Then another said, “Two.”

  The count continued, the voices moving slowly to the left of the front row, until the next row took up the baton. Though it seemed to take forever, a couple minutes later, the count reached Diana who said, “Fifty-seven.” Mara followed up with “Fifty-eight,” and the row behind her continued the process.

  Diana leaned over and whispered, “What do you think that’s all about?”

  “Roll call? Making sure everyone is present?” Mara asked.

  “What if they realize they have two too many—”

  The counting stopped, and the man presiding at the podium said, “Brothers and sisters, please stand.”

  Now a murmur flowed through the robed gathering like a wave. Everyone stood, and Mara and Diana followed suit.

  “Yeah, we might have a problem,” Mara whispered. “If something goes wrong, head toward the Bowraith Spire behind the stage. It looks like there’s less room for the mob to follow that way.”

  Diana nodded.

  On the stage, the leader pushed his cowl off his head, revealing a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing gray eyes filled with zealotry. He intoned loudly, “Reveal yourselves, and confirm your neighbor.” He stretched out his arm, his hand turned upward. A ball of flame appeared, spinning above his palm.

  The crowd mimicked their leader and pulled down their cowls. Mara and Diana locked gazes, nodded to each other and did the same.

  From the row behind them, a woman screamed, “Strangers are among us!”

  Mara turned and saw an elderly lady pointing a shaking finger at them.

  The crowd pulled away from them, and several acolytes raised their hands like the man on the stage and conjured their own orbs of fire.

  “What now?” Diana asked.

  CHAPTER 30

  Gordon the acolyte led Sam and Ping back into the tunnel and pointed to the wall opposite the corridor to the dressing room several hundred feet away. However, a large acolyte whose bulk was not hidden by his loose robes stood nearby, guarding something. And his cowl was down, revealing a blockish shaved head.

  Sam grabbed Gordon’s sleeve and paused. “Why does the big guy have his cowl down?”

  “An order to reveal must has been given—in case intruders disguise themselves as acolytes,” Gordon said. He pulled his cowl onto his shoulders. “You should do the same, or the others will know you don’t belong here.”

  “Won’t they know once they see our faces?” Ping asked.

  “They will likely assume you are from a different chamber as long as you don’t act suspiciously. Keeping your cowl on will draw attention,” he said.

  Ping and Sam pulled down their cowls.

  “So what’s he guarding?” Sam asked, staring at the big bald acolyte down the hall.

  “During alarms, each acolyte must report to their chamber or to a post to keep watch for intruders. That’s Malphor. He’s assigned to the door leading to the observation deck.”

  “That’s where we are heading, isn’t that correct?” Ping asked. “I don’t see a door.”

  “The door is hidden, spring-loaded so that, when you press it, it separates from the wall,” Gordon said. “It’s unlikely that he will let us pass. Even approaching will likely draw attention for two reasons. One, I’m assigned to take up a post outside the dressing room and shouldn’t be going in his direction, and, two, since he won’t recognize you, he’ll call one of the security posts to confirm your identities.”

  Ping frowned. “Security posts? Where are those?”

  “They are activated in the observation decks during an alert.”

  “You mean, we’re heading directly toward the people who are in charge of security?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

  “You didn’t ask,” Gordon said.

  “Is it possible for us to get past them to reach the Apex?” Ping asked.

  “The stairwell from this floor leads directly to the bridge to the Apex. You don’t have to enter the observation deck itself. However, it is likely another guard will be outside the door leading to the deck at the top of the stairs.”

  Sam looked to Ping. “Great. Mara gives us the path with all the obstacles while she gets to mosey up to the Apex without a hitch. I bet that Bowraith Spire has an executive elevator.” He jabbed a thumb toward Gordon and said, “Keep an eye on Gordie here while I deal with Malphor.”

  Sam led them down the tunnel until he stopped in front of the guard. The acolyte was bigger than he looked from a distance, so tall that Sam’s face only came up to the man’s sternum.

  “I hear your name is Malphor,” Sam said.

  The acolyte rolled his eyes downward without lowering his chin, maintaining a military aspect to his demeanor. “Report to your chamber, young man.”

  Sam gazed into his eyes and felt the connection click in a second later. He was also aware that the other Sam was paying attention.

  I think I can do this prompting thing too.

  Sam shook his head and said under his breath, “Later.”

  “What?” Malphor asked in a subdued monotone.

  “Nothing. Open the door to the stairs that lead to the observation deck. Once we pass, you will forget that we were here. Do you understand?” Sam prompted.

  “I understand.” Without turning around, the guard pressed his elbow against the wall, and a rectangular seam appeared, as if created by the substance of the wall melting into itself. A door extruded and swung inward, revealing a staircase.

  Sam waved them through. “Hurry before someone sees us.”

  Ping took Gordon’s arm and led him through the opening. Sam followed and closed the odd-feeling door, which melted back into the wall.

  As they ascended the first flight of stairs, Sam heard the other Sam in his head.

  Let me do the next one.

  In a whisper, Sam said, “What are you talking about? The next what?”

  Ping stopped on the stairs and turned to him. “But I’m not talking.”

  Sam waved a hand in front of him and said, “The other Sam is talking to me. Keep going.”

  Let me prompt the next guard. The one outside the door to the observation deck.

  “Now is not the time to learn new tricks,” Sam said. “Just keep quiet for the time being. Once we get out of this, then we’ll see about letting you try.”

  He didn’t hear a response, but he had the feeling his counterpart wasn’t too happy.

  “Are you all right?” Ping asked.

  “Yes. Let’s get going before someone catches us here on the stairs,” he said.

  When they made a U-turn and mounted the second flight of steps, Sam heard footfalls above, and a voice called down to them, “Hold it right there! Identify yourselves.”

  Sam raised his hands and looked up. Another uncowled acolyte, this one as big and bald as Malphor, took another two steps toward him and glowered.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, gravelly and intimidating.

  A flash of green light blinded Sam, and he lost his balance, falling backward. Trying to regain his equilibrium, he spun his arms at his sides until he heard Ping’s voice in his left ear.

  “I’ve got you. Relax.”

  Sam blinked to clear his vision and looked up to see Ping’s upside-down face gazing at him. Ping held Sam’s shoulders while his feet were still planted on steps several feet higher than where Ping stood, which left him dangling in the air above the stairs.

  Grabbing a handrail and pulling himself up, Sam asked, “What happened?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” Ping said. “Green lights flew from your eyes, and you appeared disoriented.”

  “Sorry about that. My fault,” someone from above said, in a voice that sounded like Sam’s.

  Ping and Sam looked up. Standing above them was the large acolyte guard, his eyes glowing green ab
ove a goofy-looking grin. “I guess you were right. Now wasn’t the time for me to practice prompting. I seem to have slipped out of our body.”

  “Fascinating,” Ping said.

  “No, not fascinating—just stupid,” Sam said. “We’re trying to save your sister’s life. We don’t have time to be dorking around, possessing the acolytes. Now get back inside me, so we can get on with it.”

  “It might be smarter if I use this guy’s body for a little longer, at least until we get Mara back,” the other Sam said, his voice weirdly incongruous with his new body.

  Sam was about to argue when Ping touched his arm. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  The guard looming above them on the higher steps raised his hand with his index finger pointed upward. “Phineas is adept at wrangling fire,” the other Sam said. A flame leaped from his fingertip, and he drew a circle in the air, forming a floating ring of fire. “It might come in handy,” he added.

  Sam turned to Gordon and asked, “What element are you adept at?”

  “I’ve been assigned to the Wind Chamber, but I’ve not been able to muster much more than a little breeze once in a while, which is why I was assigned to maintain the dressing rooms,” Gordon said.

  Glancing at Ping, Sam asked, “What do you think?”

  “Assuming your counterpart can extricate himself later, it might be advantageous to let him remain where he is for the time being. I’d let Gordon go about his way. That will give you one less thing to concentrate on,” he said. “Assuming Phineas can guide us to the Apex.”

  “I can,” the other Sam said.

  Sam nodded. “All right. Gordon, you may return to the dressing rooms and forget that you ever saw us. Understand?”

  “Yes,” he replied in a monotone, then turned and descended the stairs.

  Sam looked up at Phineas. With his glowing green eyes, massive body and bald head, the possessed acolyte looked like the comic book villain Sam had imagined earlier, until he spoke.

  “There are two doors on the landing at the top of this flight of stairs. The one on the left goes to the observation deck, which has about half a dozen security-type acolytes overlooking the Arboretum floor. The door straight ahead opens to the bridge, which climbs up into the rafters of the ceiling and over to the Apex,” the other Sam said.