Quest Maker

by Laurie McKay

  But it was not Caden’s blood that Rath Dunn needed. Although with Chadwin dead, Caden was the seventh son, Jasan was still and always would be the seventh born. It was Jasan’s blood that Rath Dunn was after. No matter how Jasan had wound up in Asheville, he was here, and he was in danger. Ms. Primrose wanted to eat him. Rath Dunn wanted his blood.

  Caden turned to the students around him, fellow victims of the gas, told them of his noble brother, and asked if they’d seen him. None had. Truthfully, many seemed too distraught to answer.

  When the paramedic turned, Caden eased away from the group. He went to Brynne. She would understand.

  “Go back to the smelly group,” she said.

  There were matters more pressing than tile-cracking green gases and stink. “Jasan is here. I saw him.”

  Brynne blinked at him for a moment. “What?” Her gaze darted around, and she straightened her blouse. “Prince Jasan is here?”

  “I have to find him before Rath Dunn does. And before Ms. Primrose devours him.”

  Brynne remained stunned for a moment. Then she hopped from the wall. “I’ll help.”

  The crowd parted for Caden. It seemed his classmates were finally acknowledging his status. Then Olivia, a girl with freckles and glasses from his math class, shooed him away. “I’m sorry, but you smell so bad,” she said. “Please go somewhere else.”

  In the school’s drive, parents picked up students. Rosa drove up in her extended cab pickup, parked, and stepped out. She was dressed like an Ashevillian sunrise in a bright orange shirt and deep pink pants. Her gray-brown hair was pulled back and frizzed around her face. She scanned the crowed and waved Tito and Jane to the truck. No doubt she’d also want Caden to return home.

  He couldn’t do that. Not before he found his brother.

  He grabbed Brynne’s hand and pulled her toward the side of the building. Once they were hidden by the stone wall and a Dumpster, she pulled her hand from his. “The Dumpster smells better than you, prince.”

  Brynne liked to insult Caden, but she also often helped him, and she was a sorceress. She knew how to find lost things. “Would a location spell find Jasan?” From what he knew of mind magic, location spells weren’t simple. But Brynne was strong. “Could you do that?”

  She bit her lower lip. “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t really know him that well. And it won’t work at all if he’s too far away, or asleep, or unconscious.” Her voice trailed off. “Or eaten” hung unspoken in the air between them.

  Caden’s cell phone buzzed in his left pocket. He pulled it out and checked. It was Rosa. He didn’t answer.

  A moment later, Brynne’s phone started playing harp music—her ringtone for Rosa. Brynne had separate ringtones for everyone. To Brynne’s credit, she looked momentarily guilty. “We’ll get in trouble for ignoring her,” she said.

  He held her gaze. “Just find Jasan, sorceress.”

  Any signs of guilt vanished, and she grinned, seemingly lost in the thrill of magic and mayhem. “I’ll need something of his. Something related.”

  Caden catalogued his possessions. He had his Summerlands compass in his right pocket. It was engraved with the kindly Sunsnake. The compass could, usefully, locate freshwater, test for edible plants, and navigate direction. It had been given to him new, though. Never had Jasan owned it. He had his coat, but it was a gift from his father. The only other things he owned were his Ashevillian clothes, his cell phone, and his magic paper clips. None of these things were related to Jasan.

  Brynne reached out and grabbed Caden’s hair. She yanked him closer. He felt his face flush. With an arched brow and a sly smile, she jerked out several of his short hairs.

  “Ow,” he said, and rubbed his head.

  “There,” she said. “You’re related to him. Your smelly hair should do.”

  His face was still hot. “You don’t amuse me.”

  Her delighted expression implied Brynne amused herself plenty, however. Then she closed her eyes. Her brows furrowed together, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

  Caden felt his phone buzz with another call. Likely, it was Rosa again. She didn’t believe Caden about many things, but she treated him well. It was unkind not to answer. On the stone wall, there was a small fissure, and he traced it with his finger.

  After a moment, Brynne opened her eyes. Now her face looked strained, her eyes tired. “He’s close,” she said. “The woods—downslope from the cafeteria.”

  Caden was a flash of speed on soft, green grass. He bolted down the hill. Brynne called after him, but he didn’t stop until he was past the mixed fir trees and oaks that guarded the perimeter of the forest.

  A few strides past the edge, the woods became strange. Something was wrong even by Ashevillian standards. At his feet, the ground seemed dead. Little sunlight entered and no spring saplings sprouted from the dark leaf litter. The trees were devoid of green leaves. The oak bark was brittle and the evergreen cedars were a mud-brown color. He saw neither living plant nor animal nor Jasan.

  Brynne caught up with him. She rested her hand against a dead oak and caught her breath.

  Caden peeked behind the trunk of a large black-barked tree. “Where is he?”

  “Here?” she said.

  Here there were only dead trees and rotten earth. “He’s not here,” Caden said.

  He felt his phone buzz again and pulled it out, untangling it from the enchanted chain of paper clips. Another call. This time it was Tito.

  Caden answered. “Hello,” he said as he searched the trees and ground.

  Tito spoke in a hush. There was an echoing quality to his voice, like he was in a small space. Caden imagined him hunched in the backseat of the pickup. “Bro, where are you? Rosa’s looking for you and Brynne.”

  Caden kicked at the dead leaves and dirt around his feet. “We’ll be back when we can.”

  “And when’s that?” Tito said. “Look, come back, now. Don’t annoy Rosa.” Tito was protective of Rosa. Truth be told, Tito was protective of many people. If Tito understood, he’d help.

  “My brother is—” Caden started.

  Over the connection, Caden heard Jane. “Rosa’s coming back.”

  Tito hung up.

  Brynne’s phone started playing harp music again. “Maybe I should answer?”

  Among the dead leaves, something glittered in silver and gold. Caden reached down and grabbed it. In his hand, he held a ripped and soiled emblem of the Winterbird. He held it up to show Brynne.

  His heart jumped. Behind Brynne, behind the dead oak where she rested her hand, a dark figure loomed. It wasn’t Jasan. Nor was it Rosa.

  “Brynne!” Caden tried to warn her, but it was too late. The figure grabbed her elbow.

  It was Rath Dunn.

  His red clothes stood out in the dark woods. The wound on Caden’s arm started to ache. Rath Dunn had his blood dagger. That meant that unlike Caden, Rath Dunn was armed.

  “You two disappeared. We’ve been looking for you,” Rath Dunn said. Brynne grimaced, and Caden knew he was holding her arm too tightly. Rath Dunn turned. In a booming voice, he called uphill. “I’ve found them.”

  Caden stuffed the emblem in his pocket.

  Rath Dunn turned back. “I just followed the smell,” he said. “And did I hear a harp? It’s good you two keep some culture.” Then he looked between Caden and Brynne. “What are you doing out here? Looking for someone?” He laughed, and Caden felt he knew exactly who it was they sought. “Too bad. Students aren’t allowed out here.”

  Brynne wriggled in his grip. “Then we’ll return,” she said. “Rosa is waiting for us.”

  “And I’m taking you back to her,” Rath Dunn said. “In a minute.” He waved for Caden to come closer. Caden stayed put. “Now, boy, do you want the young sorceress to be the only one punished for running into the woods?”

  Rath Dunn began to drag Brynne out of the woods. Caden followed and the ache in his arm deepened. “Where’s my brother?” he said in a low, dangerous v
oice.

  “Which one?” Rath Dunn said. “The one who bled out on the night no snow fell? Worm food in the crypt.” How did Rath Dunn know there’d been no snow that day? Caden hadn’t told him that detail. The math tyrant continued. “Or maybe you mean the soon-to-be-dead ones?” He paused to turn and grin at Caden. “Or maybe you mean the traitor?”

  As soon as they stepped from the woods, the sun was bright. Brynne jerked herself loose. Rath Dunn took a moment to glower at her. “You’ll regret it if you run.” He pointed uphill to the gathered crowd. Rosa, with her bright clothes, was waiting at the edge with her hands on her hips.

  Caden caught Rath Dunn’s gaze. “I mean Jasan,” he said. “Where is he?”

  “Hmm. I’m looking for him myself.” He directed them up the hill. “I do hope Ms. Primrose hasn’t eaten him already.”

  Caden felt himself go pale.

  Brynne moved farther from Rath Dunn. “That would be bad for you,” she said, “as you want his blood.”

  That was right. Rath Dunn still needed Jasan’s blood. Whatever Rath Dunn’s plot was, it required Jasan’s blood specifically. It wasn’t in Rath Dunn’s interests that Jasan be eaten.

  Rath Dunn guffawed. “What makes you think it’s not bloody when she eats?”

  Rosa drove them in angry silence. Once home, she ordered Caden to go take a shower. After he was pleasant smelling and freshly dressed, she made him sit next to Brynne on her interrogation seat—the living room’s green couch.

  Rosa stood in front of Caden and Brynne, her bright shirt catching sun rays from the window, and crossed her arms. Officer Levine stood beside her. Apparently, he’d come as soon as he could. Whenever Rosa needed support, Officer Levine always came immediately. Jane and Tito weren’t in the room, but Caden suspected they listened from the vent in the attic.

  “An emergency situation isn’t the time to run off,” Rosa said.

  Caden leaned forward. He looked her in the eyes. “I am truly sorry to have worried you, but we had to go to the woods.”

  Her cheek twitched. “Why?”

  Beside Caden, Brynne was quiet. She’d closed her eyes. No matter, Caden would explain without her help. “I feared Ms. Primrose would eat my seventh-born brother, Jasan.” Rosa wasn’t fond of Caden’s tales of the Greater Realm, but she wanted her questions answered. “I still do. And Rath Dunn wants his blood.”

  “So you ran into the woods?” Officer Levine said. There was a concerned wrinkle to his brow. “Because of that?”

  “I suspected Jasan was there.”

  Some of the anger had drained from Rosa’s face. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Finally, she said, “Go to your room, Caden.”

  “Jasan is in danger.”

  Rosa’s expression became like iron. “Go to your room, now. You, too, Brynne.”

  Brynne opened one eye. “Yes, Rosa.”

  “And young lady,” Rosa said in a weary voice. “Stop encouraging him.”

  As they trudged to the steps, Brynne whispered, “If Jasan were dead, my spell wouldn’t have located anything. He still lives.”

  Caden wasn’t so confident. “But your spell didn’t find him,” he said. He thought about his curse by the half-moon; he thought about the Winterbird emblem. “And your magic doesn’t always work the way it should.”

  He intended to sneak out again, but Officer Levine and Rosa stayed up late, and Caden fell asleep atop his pink-and-orange quilt. It was Tuesday morning way too soon.

  At school, the science classroom was sealed up, but the rest of the school was open and normal smelling. Caden wore his blue T-shirt with snowflakes on it and his coat. Today, his garments honored his homeland in the Winterlands.

  The hallway was a sea of black, brown, red, and blond hair, but his tall and noble brother wasn’t there. He tapped Brynne on the shoulder. “Let’s search the grounds,” Caden said.

  “You know,” Brynne said, “you’d think he’d be looking for you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He knows where you are, right? Let him find you. What do you think I mean, prince?”

  Caden thought she meant to start an argument. Jane touched his arm and smiled. “Give her a break, Caden. She’s still worn out from the spell.” Then Jane grabbed Tito’s hand—which made Tito grin like a Razzonian snickle puppet—and pulled him down toward the side hall. “We’ll check the cafeteria for you.”

  Truth be told, Caden suspected Brynne was worn out, and Caden could search on his own. He zigged and zagged, dodged a group of studious-looking sixth-grade girls, and ran to the gymnasium.

  It was large, with a wooden floor and exposed metal beams. There were skylights, and rays of sun shone down. Caden’s classmate Derek and Derek’s friends Tyrone and Jacob played basketball inside. It was a game with hoops and nets, but no baskets. Like many things in the odd land, the name made no sense.

  Derek, Tyrone, and Jacob weren’t Caden’s favorite people, but he needed information. “I need to ask you something,” he said.

  Derek threw Tyrone the basketball and turned. “Hey, Fartenbush, we’re busy here.” It seemed Caden shouldn’t have explained the terrible smell to his classmates. Besides, it wasn’t the fartenbush that smelled bad, it was its fruits. And Caden cared not about insults from peasants.

  “Listen,” Caden said. “I seek my brother. He may be the new gym teacher. He’s tall, royal, and doesn’t speak English. Have you seen him?”

  They stared at him. “Nah,” Derek said. “Sorry, Fartenbush, we haven’t seen him.”

  Caden was tempted to interrogate them further, but the first warning bell rang. Ms. Primrose ate students who missed class. Well, she had rules about eating locals. Derek, Tyrone, and Jacob would only get detention for being late. Caden, however, wasn’t local. He’d be brunch.

  Tyrone dropped the basketball. As he and the others walked out, Tyrone said, “Good luck, Nutcase.”

  Nutcase? Truly, Derek’s name-calling skills were far superior. Caden wasn’t pleased to be called Fartenbush, but he would be proud to be compared to a nutcase. Cases for nuts were tough and protective and useful. Had Caden not been worried about his brother, he might have explained that.

  Caden hurried to his locker: unlucky number twelve-four. He would use each break to search a different part of the school. It seemed the best strategy. As he grabbed his reading book, a paper fell out.

  Every morning for the past five school days, someone had been putting papers with Ashevillian handwriting in his book. They cluttered his locker, and he couldn’t read them. He bent down to pick up the note. The writing was local and large, and the paper pink, so it wasn’t from Jasan.

  He folded this note and set it back in his locker with the others, then turned toward his reading class. When he got a chance, he should ask Tito what the notes said. Not knowing was foolish. They could be threats.

  Speaking of threats, Mr. Creedly waited near Caden’s classroom door like a malevolent shadow. “She’s sent me to summon you,” he said. “She wants to see you.”

  “Ms. Primrose?”

  “Yes.”

  Yesterday, Jasan had been there. Maybe he was there now, too.

  Caden followed Mr. Creedly. His lanky shadow stretched abnormally across the tiles and the lockers, making it appear as if he had too many arms and legs. At the end of the long hall, Mr. Creedly slunk into his desk. There was hate in his eyes, in the long flat line of his mouth, but he pointed to the heavy office door. It shut with a thud behind Caden.

  Ms. Primrose sat behind her marble desk. Her suit was patterned with blue irises and she was on the phone. “Certainly,” she was saying. “The smell is completely gone. No, it wasn’t toxic. We did tests. No one was hurt. It seems likely it was an overzealous student and a science experiment gone awry.”

  On the mountainside outside the office window, small white flowers peeked up from cracks in the rock, reaching for sun. The incoming light, however, did nothing to warm the room. Icicles hung from th
e office shelves. Frost covered the button bowl. If not for his magical coat, Caden would be shivering. She was angry. Oh, but he could feel it in the chill, see it in the wild glint in her eyes. He felt his heart rate jump. Was that why she’d called for Caden? Because she was furious? Jasan wasn’t here. Had she eaten him in a fit of rage?

  Ms. Primrose set down the phone. It didn’t seem like she’d squeezed it with much effort, but the receiver cracked in her gnarled hand. She looked at Caden with no signs of amusement or fondness. Her pupils were too small and her skin scaly and blue.

  It seemed today she was more Elderdragon than usual, and more ferocious Blue Elderdragon than somewhat benevolent Silver. Her bad mood aside, Caden was here. She’d called him. And he saw no reason not to speak first. He did, however, speak as respectfully as he could muster.

  First, he needed to know Jasan wasn’t in her stomach. His voice wavered on the words. “Where is my brother?”

  “I sent him shopping with Manglor.” Manglor was the school janitor and father to Caden’s friend Ward. Ms. Primrose continued. “My teachers are expected to look the part.”

  Caden felt tension he didn’t know he’d carried loosen. He would do what he could to protect his brother, to help him in this backward land. Certainly, a compliment was also smart now. “You are wise beyond measure to have hired him,” he said. “He’s a great talent.”

  “I haven’t decided to keep him yet. He’s a probationary hire. Bless his heart, he wears such a sour expression.” She seemed to think on that. “It’s been awhile since I’ve eaten something sour.” She peered at Caden. “Is he so important to you?” The words sounded kind, but her tone less so. If Caden had to characterize it, he’d call it cold curiosity.

  “He is,” Caden said, and squared his shoulders. She kept licking her lips. The slightest bit of drool had collected on the side of her mouth. He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she seemed hungry. Although it was likely unwise, he felt she must understand the consequences of ever eating his brother. “If you kill Jasan,” he said, “we will be enemies.”