Ko-axes croaked enthusiastically, huge blue-green dragonflies chased yellow flies, lots of the plants looked like insects, and lots of insects looked like plants. The dominant color palette ranged from gray to black to dark black. The air reeked revoltingly of stagnant water, outsized snakes slithered nearby, and glurps quarreled over a chunk of some poor animal who had gotten up too early. In short, they were back in the good old Swamps of Desolation.
It was nighttime, though hardly pitch-black dark. The silvery light from OtherWorld’s moons made the landscape almost as bright as day.
The Ravager apparently hadn’t yet extended his power to the swamp, because the Mud Eaters were their usual color, a crushed taupe. This is the first time I’ve almost liked that shade, thought Tara. Just goes to show how tastes can change with circumstances. Right now, she was seriously allergic to anything purple.
Magister pulled the White Soul from his pocket. When he did, Robin shuddered.
Cal noticed, and he frowned. Something very strange was going on. He’d better check on it and fast.
“Your Transmitus is a darned practical transportation system,” he told Magister, stretching. “It would have saved us lot of problems if we’d had it when we escaped from you the last time.”
Magister’s mask turned brown. “Don’t be so sure, Caliban. The Transmitus doesn’t always work right, and the arrivals are, shall we say, fragmentary.”
“Oh, really? You mean people come one after another? That’s not so bad!”
“Well, not exactly,” said Bloodgrave. “The pieces arrive one after another.”
It took a moment for Cal to get the picture.
“Yuck!”
“Yes, it can be messy,” said Magister. “That’s why I use Transmitus spells very cautiously.”
Cal thought this over for a moment. Then he said, “Anyway, now that we’re safe and sound and the Mud Eaters aren’t possessed, why don’t we go back to our normal colors? I don’t much like walking around looking like a yummm.”
An image of a red cherry the size of a peach popped into Tara’s mind. When there was no Earth equivalent for an OtherWorld word, or the reverse, the Interpretus spell put weird images in her head. All right, got it: yummm = big cherry.
“Why would we do that?” Robin immediately exclaimed. “Doing magic here might attract the Ravager.”
“No, it won’t,” said Magister. “The Ravager isn’t especially sensitive to magic.”
With that, they transformed themselves back to normal. Robin had some trouble restoring his translucent white skin and apologized for being slow. Probably because he was tired, he said.
Cal, who had been watching him closely, relaxed. I guess it was stupid to be suspicious, he thought, but just for a moment there . . . Now that they had the White Soul, they had to be very careful.
“I found out some things about the Ravager,” Magister said. “He was one of the high wizards who fought with Demiderus against the demons. His real name is Drexus Vlani Gampra. One day a group of demons managed to get through Demiderus’s barriers and cast an evil spell on the wizards. Drexus was fighting alongside his wife, the beautiful Deselea. When the demons cast their spell, the wizards they hit turned into terrifying demons. Deselea and her children were among those affected, and they started to massacre Demiderus’s wizards and their allies. The others realized they had no choice but to eliminate this new menace.
“Drexus begged Demiderus not to kill his wife and children. He pleaded for time to find an incantation, a potion, something, anything that might save them. But time was exactly what Demiderus didn’t have. Thanks to their monstrous spell, the demons were now winning. So he destroyed Deselea. After his confrontation with Demiderus, Drexus disappeared. The threat from the demons was put down. Then a curious rumor began making the rounds on Earth. An insidious purple sickness had started to attack and kill women and children, but not men. It became known as the Purple Plague. Hunter-elves were sent to Earth to investigate and quickly discovered that Drexus was back. He had turned into the Ravager of Souls. Since he’d been deprived of his reason for living, he was now determined to do the same to others.”
Cal was horrified. “Do you mean to say that he—”
“He killed women and children, thousands of them,” said Magister. “He spread this awful sickness across the whole planet. Drexus nearly wiped out the human race, because without women or children, mankind would perish. The five surviving high wizards came to Earth to hunt him down, but he fled to OtherWorld and started killing again. That’s when Demiderus set a trap for him. He announced publicly that he was going to get married. OtherWorld was delighted, because he was the great hero who had saved the universe. When he introduced his future wife to the public, the Ravager wasn’t able to resist his thirst for vengeance. But despite all the precautions they took, he managed to break into the castle and kill her. This enraged Demiderus. His power, which was already enormous, grew to unprecedented strength.”
Cal glanced at Tara, who was chewing on her poor white forelock, completely engrossed. She was fascinated by her distant ancestor’s exploits.
He returned his focus to Magister as the Bloodgrave went on with the story.
“At the time, the Imperial Palace didn’t exist. It was just an ordinary castle that the giants had built for the humans at the dragons’ request. Demiderus’s anger was so great that he blew the castle down like a piece of straw. Some of the debris landed ten miles away. Needless to say, the Ravager was defeated. But to OtherWorld’s great surprise, Demiderus didn’t kill him. Instead, he decided to imprison him on the Island of Black Roses. Then he spent several years perfecting the White Soul, which was the only thing that could destroy him. Unfortunately, a knight from Earth managed to reach OtherWorld and steal it. He wanted to kill the Ravager for wiping out his family. He died before getting the Soul to the island, and the statuette was lost for a very long time. Fortunately, you found it.”
One detail had been bothering Tara throughout the story. “What are the black roses for, exactly? Fafnir apparently became possessed because of them, yet they seem to defend the island against all intruders.”
“The black roses were there to guard the Ravager,” explained Magister, who seemed very well informed, “and they’re still aware of their function. But the Ravager managed to corrupt some of the bushes during the last five thousand years. It was just bad luck that your dwarf friend made her brew from the very roses that are under his control. Also, one of you made those roses grow so dramatically that they’ve overwhelmed the bushes that are still faithful to their original mission, namely keeping the Ravager locked up.”
“That was me,” said Robin with a rueful sigh. “I used the living tree’s magic to make the roses grow. I didn’t know—”
“The Ravager has apparently changed tactics,” interrupted Master Dragosh, who wasn’t interested in the ins and outs of past events. “He has stopped killing people. Now he possesses them.”
“It amounts to the same thing,” said Magister sharply, who didn’t want his allies pitying their enemy. “His victims are prisoners, subject to his every whim. Who would want to live as a slave for the rest of their days?”
“I sure wouldn’t,” said Cal. “Anyway, since Master Dragosh went to get you, it means he figured you’re able to defeat the Ravager. What’s your plan?”
“I don’t have one,” the Bloodgrave admitted. “I never expected him to seize power. In fact, I didn’t even know the Ravager existed until our vampyr friend contacted me. We’ll have to put our heads together and come up with a solution.”
Master Dragosh spoke: “From what I’ve been able to tell, you and Miss Duncan are the most powerful among us, even if her power is subject to . . . fluctuations.”
Tara scowled at him. Sharing information with her worst enemy wasn’t exactly a great idea.
Unaware of her irritation, the vampyr continued. “I saw the Ravager’s tentacles attack everyone who approached the island. To prot
ect herself, Miss Duncan created a shield, but it eventually failed. Why, do you suppose?”
“The tentacles seemed to suck the power out of it,” said Tara with a shudder. “After a while I just couldn’t maintain it.”
“But it might be possible to create a series of nesting shields,” said Magister. “I could set up the first one, for example, and Miss Duncan could create a second one inside it. When mine collapsed, hers could take over. When hers failed, I could create a third, and so forth until we reached the center of the island.”
“Hmm, that might work,” said Tara thoughtfully. “But the first shield would have to be very big—big enough to surround both of us, ’cause our available space will gradually shrink.”
“You held out for about a minute before your shield collapsed,” observed the vampyr. “How long would it take you to reach the island?”
“If the tentacles attack us over the water, like the first time, it shouldn’t take us more than a couple of minutes,” she said. “It’s not far to the island, but we’ll have to fight our way there.”
“And we can’t set down the statuette just anywhere,” said Magister. “In his notes, Demiderus wrote that the statuette must be placed in the center of the island.”
“Really? That’s a little trickier. That should take us . . . I dunno, two to three minutes, maybe.”
“Which means you’ll have to create three or four shields,” said the vampyr. “Do you think you’ll be able to hang on?”
“I’ve never fought this thing, so I don’t know,” said Magister. “But do we really have a choice?”
“Not really,” said Dragosh. “My vampyrs and I will launch an attack to distract the Ravager. While he’s coming after us, you get as close as you can. We’ll try to hold on until you’re able to set the statuette in place.”
Cal spoke up. “Excuse me, but does anybody have any idea what happens after that?”
“Well, the Ravager will be destroyed,” answered Magister.
“Yeah, I got that,” he said sarcastically. “But how, exactly? Because if he goes boom! while you’re in the neighborhood, won’t you also go boom!?”
A thoughtful silence greeted Cal’s question.
“You’re right,” admitted Magister. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We’ll have to set the White Soul down and get out of there as fast as we can,” said Tara. “We’ll make our shields as strong as possible.”
Suddenly Cal started. Here Tara would be risking her life, yet Robin hadn’t reacted. That’s totally abnormal, thought Cal, taking a deep breath. And it confirms my worst suspicions. But before he could do anything, Robin caught him looking and made his move. With inhuman speed, he slammed into Magister, knocked the White Soul out of his hand, and scooped it up in a cloth. Then he spun around and raced off into the swamp.
Tara immediately understood what had happened.
“Gallant!” she screamed. “Stop him! The Ravager’s possessed him. Master Dragosh, follow them!”
Without waiting to see if she’d been obeyed, she went over to Magister. The Bloodgrave was gingerly cradling his head. It was an odd sight, with his hands sticking through the part of the mask that was only an illusion, even though its protection was real.
“Wha . . . what happened?” he mumbled.
“Robin was possessed,” answered Cal darkly. “It must have happened during the transfer. It did occur to me that we escaped very easily, and there wasn’t anybody in the Fortress. You were right. It wasn’t normal.”
“Are you all right?” Tara asked the Bloodgrave, who was still stunned.
“Don’t worry, I can still fight,” he said. “My mask cushioned the blow.”
Tara rolled her eyes and swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue. Showing compassion clearly wasn’t the right approach with the Bloodgrave Master.
“Go on ahead,” he continued. “I’ll catch up with you as soon as the world stops spinning.”
They hurried off in pursuit. The half-elf ran very fast, but the pegasus and bat flew faster. They caught up with him a few hundred yards away.
When Tara and Cal joined them, Robin had turned completely purple, and tentacles were erupting from his body, attacking Gallant and Dragosh. Having learned their lesson, the pegasus and the bat were nimbly avoiding them. The two weren’t able to approach Robin, but he couldn’t escape, either.
Cal was about to join the fray when Tara stopped him. “Wait, I have an idea. Look at Robin. He wrapped his hand so as not to touch the White Soul. What does that tell you?”
“That he’s afraid of it?”
“Better yet, I think touching it will destroy the possession. Did you notice which direction he ran?”
Cal looked around.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “Away from the island, right?”
“Right. The tentacle possessing him must not have be directly linked to the Ravager. I bet he was trying to bring the White Soul to the Fortress so he could use the Transfer Portal.”
Suddenly Robin dropped the statuette on the ground and picked up his bow and arrows.
“Hey, none of that!” Tara shouted, instantly casting a spell.
Her protection spell was faster than the arrows. Gallant blinked to see one hit an inch from his head, then whinnied his thanks to Tara before returning to the fight.
“Cal, try to get close to Robin and grab the statuette. Then you have to somehow touch his skin with it.”
The little thief cast a Camouflagus spell, making himself practically invisible. He started quickly crawling toward Robin, and Tara lost him from sight almost immediately.
Robin had been surprised when his arrow didn’t kill the pegasus. He now shot at the bat, but with no more success. He realized that someone, probably Tara, was protecting his attackers—and he started looking around for her.
Uh-oh! thought Tara. She leaped behind a tree and held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t see her. But Robin’s hyper-acute senses located her almost immediately, and he smiled evilly. Ignoring the White Soul on the ground, he nocked an arrow and tiptoed toward Tara, who couldn’t see him coming. Gallant whinnied loudly, but the tentacles kept him from coming to the rescue.
The elf suddenly leaped and pointed his arrow at Tara at point-blank range.
“You’re dead!” he cried.
When you’re about to die, your entire life passes before your eyes, they say. But Tara didn’t have time to see anything. Held by Cal’s invisible hand, the White Soul flew up out of nowhere to slap against Robin’s cheek.
The effect was immediate. He opened his mouth, but didn’t have time to scream. Tara dove to the ground, but Robin had dropped his bow, and the arrow didn’t fly.
The White Soul left a pale mark on the elf’s cheek, and it now spread quickly, overwhelming the purple. The black tentacles quickly turned white as well, then vanished.
Robin crumpled to the ground, finally able to release the scream caught in his throat.
“Super!” exclaimed Cal as he canceled the Camouflagus spell. “Nothing went boom!”
Tara knelt down and pulled the unconscious elf’s head onto her lap.
“It’s okay,” said Cal. “He’s breathing.”
The pegasus and the bat landed nearby moments later, joined by Magister, who staggered up.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, leaning against a tree for balance.
Then, seeing Robin lying on the ground, he exclaimed: “Isn’t he possessed anymore?”
“No,” said Tara. “Cal pressed the White Soul against his face and the Ravager was immediately driven out.”
“So it works,” said the Bloodgrave with satisfaction. “That’s perfect.”
When Robin opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were Tara’s beautiful deep blue eyes, and he gazed into them with rapture.
“Am I in heaven?” he murmured. “Are you an angel?”
“Fortunately not,” Tara said with a smile. “Those wings are very impractical when you’r
e getting dressed. How do you feel?”
“As if a braaa trampled me. But the Ravager’s gone, and that’s the main thing. Did I hurt anybody?”
“You sort of knocked Magister out, but that’s not real serious,” answered Cal. “The rest of us are fine.”
The Bloodgrave said nothing, but his mask turned an irritated red, suggesting he didn’t much appreciate Cal’s humor.
“The gnome was possessed,” said Robin with a shiver, still feeling shaken. “It was a trap. The Ravager let us escape so he could see if we’d brought the White Soul back. He knew we would spot him because of the purple, so he didn’t change the gnome’s skin. In my case, when Cal suggested we go back to our normal color, he drained the purple from my hands and face. By the way, Cal, how did you guess I was possessed?”
“I wasn’t sure, and when your skin turned white again I thought I’d made a mistake. It was only when Tara said she was going to risk her life and you didn’t react that I got it.”
As he spoke, the little thief gave Robin a sly look, who turned beet red.
Seeing Robin’s embarrassment, Tara decided not to press the matter. No point in making the handsome half-elf feel more awkward, she thought. But she promised herself to have a serious conversation with Cal and maybe extract some vital information from him.
Magister grumbled: “The cursed elf hit my head so hard, I’m not sure I’m in any condition to fight.”
Tara couldn’t believe she would ever say what she said next: “Come over here. I’ll treat you.”
Magister raised his head and looked at her through his mask, seeming to hesitate.
“Oh, for crying out loud, I’m not going to hurt you!” she cried. “I understand the equation: you + me = dead Ravager. So c’mon, let’s do it.”
Magister came over and Tara reached out to him, her hand easily passing through the mask. Her fingers felt a wide forehead sticky with blood. She quickly cast a Healus and pulled her hand back.
Magister moved his head cautiously.
“That’s perfect, Miss,” he said approvingly. “I feel much better.”
Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book Page 33
