by Meg Bonney
To plunge foil to soil so the Magics go free.
Did I need to stick my sword in the ground? Where did my blood come into play? I shook my head. When did my life get so complicated?
Just then, my foot hit a rock on the road and my ankle buckled. I crashed to the ground, not able to brace myself. I winced in pain and looked down at my knee. My pant leg had ripped, and there was a cut about as long as a candy bar. It was bleeding pretty good, too.
“Genius plan, Madison.” I sighed exhaustedly.
Ren had warned me that the woods could be dangerous, but it was the stealthy rocks on the Temple Road that I really needed to watch out for. I felt a knot in my stomach.
I hadn’t even told them I was leaving. They were going to be worried. But I realized as I lay there, listening to Jason and Ara, that I had to go alone. I couldn’t do the ritual if I was worrying about them. And I couldn’t do what I had to do if I was worried that they were off killing the king.
I needed to go alone. But it didn’t make me feel any less crummy.
Looking at the cut on my leg, I began to remove the fingerless black glove on my sword hand, but then I stopped.
“Not this time,” I said aloud to myself as I climbed back to my feet. I limped along the rocky path that would lead me to the Temple of the Ember Isle. “I deserve this wound.”
CHAPTER 31
I jogged along the path with my head down, frowning like a grumpy kid. I hadn’t even faced my enemy, but I already felt defeated.
Alone was the way to travel. There was no way that the rest of the group could handle running this long. My group. I couldn’t get Ara and Jason’s conversation out of my mind. Ara admitting that she only came along to kill my father annoyed me, but knowing that Jason was sitting there discussing me hurt more.
As I reached the top of the hill, I lifted my head and gasped. I had been trudging along, staring at the ground, for so long that I hadn’t even realized I was so close to the temple. I stopped, looking down the hill.
The Temple of the Ember Isle.
“There it is,” I said. It was a legit castle. The entire temple was enclosed by tall, powdery white fortress walls on a massive, sprawling island. They were flat, not ornate, and the tops were straight. The temple itself was everything a castle should be: smooth white brick towers with arched windows and four wings all jutting out from the open center. The courtyard.
Home of the Strongbloods. Home of my father.
I made it. The moon still hung in the sky. I wished I had paid more attention to the time to be able to judge how long until dawn.
Light from the nearly full moon made the temple gleam even in the darkness. The island was set back in the water a little way, not too far off the shore. A single bridge connected the temple’s entrance to the shoreline.
“Great. More water,” I mumbled. I took the cloak from my bag and put it on. I ripped the neckline to make it wider, to allow for easy access to my sword, and started toward the bridge. It was long, about half the length of a football field. Something told me that a water entrance would be smarter than what I was about to attempt, but I was certain that me proving once again that I sink wouldn’t do anyone any good.
And Witches sink, so they would know right away. My god, it’s scary how normal all these things have become to me.
I may have only gotten my full gifts of strength when Ruth’s protection spell was broken, and my magical abilities were slowly increasing, but I have had the gift of determination my whole life.
I wouldn’t back down. I was getting into that temple.
There were two guards, a man and a woman, pacing at the end of the bridge. They were chatting as I approached.
“Evening,” I said.
“Who are you?” the female guard asked.
Both were dressed like a modernized version of medieval soldiers. Instead of shiny silver armor, they had dark chest plates that looked sleeker and easier to move around in.
Neither wore their helmets, which were sitting near them on the wooden ledge of the bridge. The guards didn’t seem to be threatened by me.
“Looks like you got roughed up. Are you all right?” the male guard asked.
“Got into it with some mountain trolls.” I pointed behind me. “Woo-whee! A rough tumble.”
“What are you doing out alone?” the female guard asked, looking suspicious. “Where is your Cloaked troop?”
“I, uh―lost my people. I just need to get some rest,” I mumbled.
The male guard gestured for me to pass. The boards creaked beneath me as I stepped onto the bridge and began limping down its length.
“Wait, what is that on your eye?” The female guard put her hand on my chest. I met her eyes with my good one as she studied me.
I shrugged. “Fashion, you know?”
She looked me up and down. “What is your name?”
I kept my face calm and still. “Lorelai Victoria Gilmore of Stars Hollow.”
“I have never heard of you.” The female guard drew her sword. “What is your troop check-in name?”
“Troop Beverly Hills, ma’am,” I answered.
The guards looked at each other and then back to me. My heart started to race as they seemed to have a silent conversation while I stood there like an idiot.
Then they both turned back to me, looking even more suspicious.
Plan B?
“Ah, screw it,” I said, and punched the other guard square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. The female guard grabbed her sword and pointed it at me.
“Oh, whoops.” I held my wrists out. “Sorry!”
The female guard rolled her eyes at the other guard, not seeming too concerned that I had just rendered him unconscious. She grabbed a piece of rope from her belt and coiled it around my wrists. “Don’t even think of trying anything or this sword will go straight through you,” she said. Then she pushed me down the bridge and began walking with the pointy end of her sword pressed to my back.
“I will be right back,” the female guard called to the other guard, lying still.
She walked me down the length of the bridge to the massive wooden temple door. It was about twenty feet high.
“My god. How do you clean a door that tall? How?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Silence, rat.” She pushed her hand into my back. “What’s this?” She felt my sword under the cloak.
With my hands still bound, I spun around and, with a swift kick, knocked her sword from her hand. She charged at me with a grunt. I took her to the ground, throwing my bound wrists over her so that I had her in a bear hug. I tried to edge over to the side so I could throw her into the water. I didn’t want to hurt her too badly, though she didn’t seem to share that sentiment and tried to break free of me.
“Who are you?” she demanded as she kicked and thrashed.
“Still trying to figure that part out, actually,” I said as we got close to the edge of the bridge.
“Give up now. They will never let you in like that! What is that on your eye? You look like a troll!” she said as she struggled. Her wild hair was in her face now. I looked down at her build.
“Hmm. What are you, about five-two, five-three?”
“What?” She looked at me like I was crazy, and I threw my head into hers, knocking her out. She went limp under me.
I blinked a few times and shook my head. “Ow.”
I used my teeth to undo the knot binding my wrists.
“Okay, nighty-night. I am just going to borrow your armor,” I said, and began taking the guard’s armor off and putting it on over my clothes, moving quickly so that the guard I had rendered useless wouldn’t notice. I strapped my sword and scabbard back on over the armor. The chest plate wasn’t metal like I thought. It was more flexible than metal but sturdier than plastic.
I sprinted to the guard post, grabbed the female’s helmet, and watched the male’s chest move up and down for a moment. He stirred
a bit, but his eyes stayed closed. I ran back to the female guard. She was still out. I slipped my cloak over her and smeared some of the dirt from the bottom of my boot on her face. Then I lifted her over my shoulder, walked down to the door of the temple, and knocked on it with three hard raps.
My heart raced as I waited.
“You got that one?” a voice called from behind me. I turned and waved a hand at the male guard who was at the other end of the bridge, rubbing his jaw.
He thought I was the female guard. Perfect.
I turned back to the door as it creaked open. Another guard dressed like me was standing in the doorway.
“What happened to you?” the guard asked sleepily. He sounded much older than the guard at the base of the bridge. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“Got into a scuffle with this one. Another Magic to lock up. I will take her down,” I said, keeping my face angled down.
The guard waved me past without a second thought, sinking back into his chair. I exhaled slowly as I walked through the foyer of the Temple of the Ember Isle. It smelled a little like burnt leaves and sweat, and it was colder than the air outside.
The foyer of the temple was massive. The arch over the entryway to the building looked to be chiseled from marble. Every step I took seemed to echo. The walls were bare and endless. In front of me was one long hallway lined with torches mounted on the walls.
“Hey!” a voice from behind me called.
I flinched and turned slowly, still keeping my head down.
It was the guard who had let me in. “They want the Magic rats in the middle courtyard. They are setting up for the execution tomorrow. Just toss that one in,” he said, pointing straight down the hall.
I nodded, my helmet shaking around on my head. I took a few steps away, and when I looked over my shoulder to see if the guard was still watching, he had already settled back into his chair. I looked back at the guard once more, but he looked like he had already fallen back asleep. I could hear him lightly snoring before I even made it to the doorway of the first room on my left. It was dark and empty; just a table and chair sat in the far corner.
Perfect. I dropped the female guard into the chair. Her head bobbed forward. I pulled a piece of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and stuffed it into her mouth and ripped a strip of the curtain to tie over it to gag her. I ripped two more to secure her hands and her ankles together.
I placed Ren’s book on the window ledge, behind one of the curtains, and started toward the door when I heard more talking.
“Yes, that is right, sir. Eighty-two Magic folk for execution,” a deep voice said.
“Lovely. I will be there at moonrise to do a few myself. Thank you, Asher,” a second voice said.
I slammed my back into the wall as the echoing footsteps grew louder. Asher? As in Captain Asher from Ren’s story? I pressed my cheek against the marble wall behind me, trying to slow my breathing.
“King Dax, sir, are you all right?” Captain Asher asked, concerned.
My heart felt like it was weighted down with stones. King? That would mean that the other man’s voice…
The man on the other side of this wall was my father. My father.
“Sir? Sir, you look alarmed. Perhaps we sh—”
“No, no, I am fine. Let us keep going,” King Dax responded.
I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek as I stayed pressed to the wall. I exhaled somewhat loudly and relaxed as the sound of the voices diminished.
My entire body shivered. My father. That was my father. I started to take small steps toward the doorway of my hideout room. I poked my head out as little as possible to try and see him.
All I saw was the end of a cape billow as someone rounded the corner. I jumped back into the room.
That was my father. I leaned against the wall again and took a shaky breath as I sunk to the floor. He was here. I had heard his voice.
Hugging my legs, I buried my face into my elbow and cried.
CHAPTER 32
I sat in the cold, dark room for a few minutes, trying to compose myself. Tears covered my face. I could only imagine what a mess I was, but I didn’t care.
I wished with every ounce of my being for Jason. I wish he was here with me. I can’t do this alone. I can’t handle it.
Then I let out a long slow breath. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. Focus.”
Aunt Ruth. I needed to get to Aunt Ruth. That was what mattered now. Get to Ruth and set her free. Free the Magics.
I leaned on the wall and pushed myself off the ground. The female guard was still limp in the chair as I started toward the doorway and out into the hall.
“Guard!” a voice behind me yelled. I flinched and slowly turned. It was the same guard who had let me in. Crap.
“Yes?” I answered, making my voice lower and raspy.
“You are needed down at the south gate.”
“Right.” I gave him a nod.
I kept my head down, trying to cast as much shadow on my face as possible, turned, and started jogging down the hall.
“Guard?”
“Hmm?” I responded.
“That way.” The man squinted at me and pointed down the hall behind me. “South gate.”
I turned again and quickened my pace down the long hallway. Not knowing where I was going was making this really hard.
There was some shouting ahead of me. I hurried along, looking behind me as I entered a hallway lined with portraits, all oil paintings in massive gold frames. I slowed my walk and eyed each solemn face. Beneath every painting was a small plaque with the person’s name. I stopped when I got to the last in the long row as a name caught my eye.
Echoing voices sounded through the hallway from both directions, but I didn’t move. I studied the picture.
It was a man and woman, and the woman was holding a small child in her arms. The child looked to be about two years old. The woman’s face looked as though it had been cut from the picture. The frayed pieces of canvas remained.
I stepped closer and ran my fingers over the names.
King Dax. Queen Vilda. Princess Lanora.
I lifted my hand to my mouth and took a few steps back. It was me. Me as a baby with my parents.
Lanora? My real name is Lanora?
This was a picture of my family. Someone had cut my mother’s face out of it. I looked at my father in the portrait and squinted against the darkness of the hallway. His eyes. Even in the darkness, I could see that his eyes were the same amber color as mine. I chewed my lip.
I looked like him. I looked like my father.
He looked familiar in that the structure of his face was similar to mine. He had long, dark, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders. My mother’s face was gone, but her hair draped over her blue dress in soft, loose curls. It was lighter than my father’s, but it was hard to see the shade that well. I traced the flow of her curls with my hand.
I felt an ache in my chest as I looked at the child in the picture, a longing that I hadn’t realized was already in me. I stared at my face. It was the only one of my baby pictures I had ever seen. Aunt Ruth always said she didn’t have any, and now I knew why. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.
I looked so innocent in my mother’s arms. I had on a white dress with little flowers that were blue or black; I couldn’t tell in the dim light. And, true to form, my hair was a mound of messy curls on top of my head. I looked exactly the same in the face. So calm and serene. A look that I don’t think I had had since then. Not even at my age now, at seventeen—no, wait. I was eighteen. When this all started, it had been my eighteenth birthday.
Instead of a party, I had been dropped into the crapstorm that was my actual life. I tried to remember how long we had been here, but all the days of my journey seemed to blend together.
I looked back up at the portrait, kissed my fingers, and put them on my mother’s hand.
“I am going to go find your sister, M
om. I am going to get your Ruthana back.” My voice cracked as I spoke. This was something I had dreamed of my entire life: finding my parents. Finding where I had come from.
Here I stood, in the hallway of my father’s house, and I felt even more alone.
Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined who I really was: Princess Lanora, Witch of the Rosewood Coven and Strongblood of the Ember Isle, Scion of Everly.
This was it. This was what I had spent years dreaming I would find. Well, not this exactly, but I had wanted to find my parents and I had. I finally had.
I heard voices growing louder in the hallway that I had just walked down, so I jogged in the other direction. At the end of the hall, moonlight poured out of a brighter room onto the shiny marble hallway floor.
I jogged down the hall toward the room. As I drew closer, I heard sounds. Not voices, but the sickening sounds of those in pain. Moans and howls of agony. I stopped running and stepped slowly.
The courtyard.
I braced myself on the wall and looked inside, knowing that it could not be any sight I wished to see.
And I could not have been more right. I gasped.
I took a few steps back, unable to accept what I was seeing. The large, circular courtyard was filled with moonlight from above, casting deep shadows on the horror below. The green grass of the courtyard was littered with bodies. Some were moving; most were not.
Injured, bleeding, and broken Magics were all strewn about in a magical prison of death. I covered my mouth and nose as the smell hit my nostrils.
I searched the faces and the scattered motionless bodies for Aunt Ruth. I did not see her, but I could see a slab of black stone near the far edge of the courtyard. On the slab was a wooden table with three shackles sticking up—a large one in the middle of two smaller ones.
“Head and hands,” I said aloud.
I started to take a step into the courtyard when a group of guards turned the corner, running hurriedly down the long hallway toward me. I hesitated. Should I run away, go into the courtyard and do the ritual now, or act like I belonged?
