by Clay Held
They were holding out on him.
Simon eyes dropped to the ground. “Why?” he said quietly. Angry tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away, blinking furiously.
“Simon...” Nathan said quietly. “This wasn’t to hurt you. We were looking out for you.” He paused. “We all were.”
Simon kept his eyes closed, drawing in breath after deep breath, clenching his fists until his knuckles ached. Finally his anger quieted down, replaced by a heavy sadness. His shoulders slumped. He turned back to Nathan but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. “We, huh?” Simon said. “I guess you all must have thought I was really stupid not to figure out any of it, didn’t you?”
“No,” Nathan said solemnly. “Now, look, Simon. You’ll get answers, I’ll see to that, but for now we have to focus on the monsters ahead of us, so to speak. Monsters now, answers later, okay?”
Simon lifted his eyes to Nathan. “Who were they?” he whispered. “My parents.”
Nathan took a deep breath. “Good. They were good people.” Nathan started up the stairs. “We need to keep moving. C’mon.”
Simon followed slowly, letting Nathan get further and further ahead of him as they made their way deeper into the bluff. Nathan must have sensed Simon needed space, because even when he looked back over his shoulder he didn’t wait to let Simon catch up. When he reached the top of the steps he waited, his eyes alternating between his grimoire and watching the woods ahead.
“Be ready,” he said as Simon reached the top of the stairs. The stairs had cut deep into the rock--by the time Simon emerged from the stairs they were far from the cliff face. The air was colder up here, and Simon shuddered as he gazed over the forest stretching out below them, watching the woods swell and dip all the way out to the horizon, every last tree and branch bathed in sunlight. Large hills swooped and dipped throughout the forest, and other large rocky bluffs sprang up intermittently, sleeping stone giants in the early morning.
More intricate patterns and strange words emerged along the stone path. The patterns and words were so bizarre that Simon thought they may have been carved by a madman, and all the while neither of them spoke. Nathan paused one last time to check something in the grimoire, then motioned for Simon to follow.
“The hall of your fathers,” Nathan said. “Welcome to Silverwood.”
The stone path dropped suddenly down, revealing the edge of a small valley full of activity. Nestled deep on the west side of the valley was a marketplace full of stalls, and past the crowds of people and the numerous small buildings was an impossibly large mansion. It must have had hundreds of roofs, all running at different angles into each other, and several in different styles. It looked not like the work of one architect but of hundreds, maybe thousands, as decades of expansion had spread the manor out until it was almost an organic growth, no different from the forest around it. Numerous wings of the manor ran in every direction, and thousands upon thousands of windows shimmered in the morning light. Simon tried to count the floors but quickly lost track, as it was almost impossible to cleanly see where floors stopped or started. Around the valley was an impressively tall stone wall, topped with iron fences decorated with gargoyles, and seven watchtowers spaced evenly along the perimeter.
“Here we go.” Nathan called for Simon to follow. “Don’t let anybody sidetrack you. We need to head right up to the main house.” Nathan walked to the main gate, giving only a brief nod to the guards standing there. Neither of them made a move to stop Nathan, so Simon fell into step behind him and walked briskly down into the valley.
The path to the large house was lined with oak trees, and as Simon followed his eyes scanned all the other activity around them. There were other buildings scattered across the valley, with people hurrying from one to the next without paying attention to anybody around them, let alone Simon or Nathan. No one seemed to notice they were there at all. Despite feeling like a complete stranger, no one stopped or questioned either of them as they moved along.
A small flash of magenta light danced in front of Simon, drawing his eyes off of Nathan and into a nearby clump of bushes. Simon glanced at Nathan, but he had not seen it. After a moment’s hesitation, Simon broke off from following Nathan to investigate. They were, after all, in a safe place, weren’t they? It would only take a moment to check out, then he’d be right back along with Nathan, off towards the large house, and no one the wiser. He followed the light to see where it had gone, but as he approached, the magenta light stopped bobbing, then disappeared entirely, making a small sound as it winked away. Simon stood dumbfounded for a moment when he sensed something coming at him from behind. An instant later Simon was falling, tumbling down into the bushes. He rolled over, expecting to see his assailant standing over him, but instead he saw only trees and the endlessly gray sky above him.
Simon scrambled to his feet. He looked for his backpack, but it had disappeared. The magenta spark winked in front of him again, bobbing in the air for a moment before zipping around a tree. Simon sprang to his feet, this time determined to catch it. Running around the tree he collided with someone, a taller boy with short, dirty blonde hair. Simon bounced off the other boy, landing on the ground with a loud whump, then small stretches of vine erupted from the ground and wound around his ankle and wrist.
“Watch where you’re going,” the other boy said. He was half a head taller than Simon and athletically built--he had the bearing of someone used to working outside. He wore ratty jeans and a brown hooded sweatshirt that had definitely seen better days, black fingerless gloves, and around his neck was a silver necklace with two charms--one the silver leaf of the Freemancers, the other a silver skull with red gemstones. The boy moved quickly, his blue eyes darting around, constantly counting the variables around him. He held Simon’s backpack tightly, his fingerless gloves rubbing dirt and muck all over it. Looking at him, with his darting eyes and muddy-brown hair, Simon couldn’t help thinking of a fox.
“That’s mine,” Simon said, reaching out. The other boy stepped back out of reach.
“Prove it,” he said, eyeing Simon. “I have one just like it, and I lost it earlier. I found this one here on the ground, unattended. It was mislaid, you might say. How do I know it’s yours and not mine?”
“My name’s on the inside,” Simon said. “Permanent marker. Simon.”
The boy smiled coyly. “Well, maybe that’s my name, too. Maybe this is my pack, and you saw my name on the inside, and now you’re trying to take off with what’s mine, eh?”
“Thought you said you found it on the ground.” Simon tugged against the vines. When the other boy hesitated, Simon reached feebly for it again. “Give it back.”
The other boy hesitated again, then finally tossed the backpack to Simon. “Here,” he said. “Nothing good in it anyway.”
The vines went limp, releasing Simon. “You went through it?”
“Thought it was mine.”
Simon ripped open his backpack, taking quick inventory to make sure everything was still there. When he was satisfied nothing was missing, he looked up to see the other boy walking away, the small magenta light bobbing around his head.
“Hey!” Simon closed in on the boy, but the magenta light jabbed back at him, a mad streak of light zinging at his face repeatedly, like some devilish bug. Simon swatted madly at the tiny speck, unable to knock it away.
“Easy there, Maggey,” the boy said over his shoulder. “Don’t make him hurt himself.”
The light swooped back to the boy, coming to rest on his shoulder, up close to his neck.
“Good girl,” the boy said, not even glancing back.
Simon started to follow the boy again, ready to tackle him, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Simon! What did I say?” Nathan’s voice boomed as he directed him back towards the main house. “Now is not the time to wander!”
“There was a weird light, a bug or something,” Simon started. “It buzzed me, then this kid, I followed them...”<
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“Weird light, other kid, that’s great,” Nathan said, dragging Simon the rest of the way to the estate house. The front doors swung open as Nathan and Simon approached, and Nathan went inside, walking past another set of guards without speaking a word, and Simon followed. He found himself standing in the foyer--it was large and luxurious, with checkered marble floors, hardwood walls, and broad staircases sweeping up the sides, and his stomach lurched when he recognized it.
It was the grand room from his alleyway vision.
“We knew you were coming,” whispered the Other Voice.
“Simon?” Nathan tapped him on the shoulder. “Stay here. I won’t be gone long.” He climbed the stairs and disappeared into the second level.
Portraits hung on the wall between the swooping staircases, all of stern-looking men, each one of them flocked in the same dark green robes and wearing the same pointy, green hat.
“Ceremonial clothing,” said a surprise voice to Simon’s left, making him jump. The would-be thief from earlier lay across a large green chair, idly flipping through a book. “Greencloaks, y’know? Most of it’s laughable, but you know how much they love to stand on their ceremony, don’t you?”
Simon tightened his backpack on his shoulder. “Just who are you, anyway?” he asked, glancing for any signs of the magenta bug from earlier. “Why are you following me?”
“Maggey’s outside,” the boy said. “Her kind aren’t allowed inside. Don’t you know that? What’s your master teaching you anyway?”
“My master?”
“Yeah, tall guy, brown hair, you came in with him?” The boy dropped the book on a table, rising to look Simon in the face. “So what’s your deal anyway? How many years do you have left on your apprenticeship?”
“Left?” Simon was trying to keep his backpack out of reach without being obvious, but the boy didn’t make any grabs for it.
The boy furrowed his brow. “Oh c’mon, you’re not just starting, are you?” Surprise filled his face. “Are you really just an initiate?”
“Maybe,” Simon said, looking off to the side. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“You sure don’t know nothing,” the boy said. “You’re gawking at the portraits of the former Archmancers like you expect them to bite.”
“It’s my first time here,” Simon finally said, his cheeks on fire. “I’m a guest.”
“A guest,” Luke said, amused. “Well, that explains a lot.” The boy flashed an empty grin and held out his hand. “Luke.”
Simon hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. “I’m Simon,” he said, remembering Lungwort’s warning about names. “It explains what?”
Luke’s grin slowly disappeared from his face. “Why you look so lost.” Luke snatched his book off the table. “Hate to say it, but it’s not my day to drive the welcome wagon, so I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Stray. Make yourself at home.”
“Simon?” Nathan appeared behind the boys. “Well, now, is this the other boy?” He pinned Luke with his eyes. “You, son, I hear that you have got just the most fascinating little red light. Devil’s ember, maybe?”
“Fairy,” Luke said with a hollow grin. “My aunt gave her to me when I was a baby. Had her all my life.”
“That so,” Nathan said. “Where’s she at now?”
“Sleeping,” Luke said. “She’s napping under a downspout in the gardens. She likes the smell of the butterfly bushes.”
“Good,” Nathan said, eyeing Luke. “Simon, they can see us now.”
“Who?”
“Our council,” Nathan said. “C’mon, through here,” he said, ushering Simon through a door under the stairs. “You--” He pointed at Luke. “There’re frogs in the gardens. I’d hate to see one of them burping up sparks. You might want to check on your little friend.”
Luke stared daggers at both of them until the door had clicked shut.
The door lead into a large unlit corridor, too big to fit under the stairs in the foyer. “Wait,” Simon said. “Didn’t you go upstairs?” He looked around for another set of steps but didn’t see any.
“Same place, different door,” was all Nathan said. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone before we get here, I imagine. C’mon, we need to keep going.”
Hanging oil lamps flickered to life all the way down the hallway’s ceiling, tiny dots of light stretching until fading into the shadows ahead. The hallway was narrow, the walls stretched up into more darkness above, and iron chandeliers, covered in cobwebs, hung down out of the void. Once elegant carpet ran down the hall, but all the plushness and color had been crushed out of it from countless years of wear. Simon hesitated near the door, looking at Nathan.
“Old doesn’t mean bad,” Nathan said. “Just...old, and a little creepy.” Nathan struck off down the dark corridor. “We shouldn’t be here too long.” Nathan moved quickly, never pausing or hesitating as he plunged headlong into the dark. Several warped, timeworn doors with ornate carvings ran the length of the hall, and Simon bolted past all of them as he kept pace with Nathan, who continued briskly down the endless hall.
Gradually a glow appeared in the distance, growing brighter as the minutes passed. The light flickered like a campfire on the walls of the corridor, the peeling wallpaper finally giving away to bare wood walls, the carpet surrendering to a smooth stone floor.
“This is the oldest part of Silverwood,” Nathan whispered as they grew closer to the flickering orange light. “Much power here. The seat of authority for the Freemancers.”
“Can they help us find Sam?” Simon asked, pulling a cobweb out of his hair.
“I hope so,” Nathan said. “Sam was never good at making friends, plenty good at making enemies. Some of them wound up on the Council. Mostly junior officials, but still. I can’t imagine most of them still being sore at him for taking off like he did.”
“Taking off?” Simon stopped walking. “Were they mad at him for leaving?”
“Some more than others,” Nathan said, his voice low. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just stay by me. I mean that. Don’t wander off chasing fairies this time.”
“Okay,” Simon said, embarrassed and more than a little angered by Nathan’s remark. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry about that.”
“Just stay by me. “We should be fine,” he said, smoothing his hair back with his hands. At the end of the hallway the floor gave way to a set of stone steps leading down to a large open archway. Two torches blazed on either side of the doorway, each partnered with a large man clad in dark green robes.
“How old is this?” Simon whispered.
“Old,” Nathan said. “Very, very old.”
The guards remained stone still when Nathan and Simon entered. They stepped into a large auditorium with a high ceiling held up by thick wooden rafters. The room was absolutely filled with people, most sitting around the edge of the room on long, large wooden benches. The floor stepped down three times about every ten feet, creating descending tiers. Large windows filled every wall, each looking out to the forest surrounding them. No other buildings could even be seen, let alone any other part of the house. Simon could not tell how high up they were, or where the room fit in the overall structure of the house. An expansive skylight overhead filled the room with a misty yellow light--not quiet dawn, not quiet dusk. The room was undeniably old, and its season had clearly moved into full autumn.
Nathan and Simon sat on the lowest tier in the middle, near two older women wearing luminescent green robes, with two cats winding around them. Nathan spoke genially with them, provoking polite giggles and keeping their attention while Simon sat there, unsure of what was coming next. People milled around the large room, most of them talking in small groups, none taking any specific interest in either Simon or Nathan, except for one man standing in the corner with a large oak staff in his hand, and animal skin clothing. His gray eyes were fixed on them.
“Isn’t that Cynric?” Simon grabbed at Nathan’s arm, pulling him away from the two women and
their conversation about which strain of monkshood was most effective.
“What?” Nathan followed where Simon pointed. “He can be here,” he said.
“I thought he was supposed to be watching the Gate?”
“He is,” Nathan answered. “He’s here too. Simon, this room is Timeless. A special enchantment. We can be here and not-here at the same time. Cynric slipped away from his post to come here, when it’s done he’ll slip back to when he left, within a couple moments. Same with us.”
“So it’s always the same time here.”
“It’s no time here,” Nathan said.
“Oh,” Simon said. This made sense for a moment, then, in another instant, it didn’t. “Huh?”
“Can I get everyone’s attention!” said a tall, stocky man in dark green robes. He stood in the middle of the room, the wiry gray hairs on his head sweeping over his thin face like a wispy crown. “The meeting will be starting shortly!” His voice rang across the room, breaking harshly against the rafters of the room.
“Who’s that?” Simon asked, pointing at the man. He was busily instructing a group of young people as they brought out a cluster of chairs, along with a podium and a large handmade table to flank each side. A red-haired girl around Simon’s age followed behind them, quickly setting papers out at each seat.
One of the women in green robes leaned over before Nathan could answer. “That’s Ellicott Sterling, our current Archmancer,” she said. “Handles all Freemancer affairs.”
“All areas,” added the other woman. “Haven’t had a Head like him in some time, have we sis?”
“Oh, no, not one like him in, I’d say, a hundred years.” She reached down to scratch the ears of her cat, a hefty hunk of gray fur with bright blue eyes. “So much better than that horrid Nicodemus Limnic.”
“Oh, what a scoundrel, that one.”
