by David Meyer
A tingling sensation coursed through my veins as I entered Instinctia. My emotions lined up perfectly. My hand became foreign to me, a slave of the Capsudra. My lips moved as if I was a puppet on strings.
“Pobyl Caxtor,” I said.
An auburn glint left my wand and smacked into the iris bolt. They vanished in a bit of smoke.
“Nice try, Ms. Tuck.” Boltstar cupped his hands around his mouth. “Your Elertfa spell is definitely improving. You’ll get him next time.”
I caught sight of Daisy Tuck. Already, she was maneuvering for another attack.
Prepping my emotions, I whipped my wand in a well-practiced sequence. With the spell on the tip of my tongue, I opened my mouth.
The familiar tingling sensation shot through my veins as I entered Instinctia. My emotions slid out of my control, lining themselves up with the Capsudra’s demands. My hand moved fast. My lips even faster. At least that’s what I think happened. It’s hard to know for sure because at that very moment a substantial force hit my belly.
I groaned and my stomach muscles tightened on reflex. And then I was on the grass and in agony. I ached all over. Even my teeth hurt.
“Excellent spell, Ms. Tuck. I told you that you’d get him next time.” Boltstar’s head shifted toward me. “That’s it, Mr. Wolf. Please exit the HMQ immediately.”
Painfully, I rose to my knees. As I crawled off the field, I felt a sense of deep dissatisfaction well up inside of me. My best performance yet and I was still just a punching bag for the students.
“You’re out, Ms. Chen.” Boltstar exhaled. “That wasn’t bad … for you. Now, please exit the field.”
I waited for Leandra just outside the magic rope. Piper had found a spot of grass to sit upon so we made our way toward her.
Leandra flopped onto the ground. “How long is this class going to last anyway?” she groused.
Piper touched her shoulder and winced. “The rest of the quarter, at least. If we survive that long.”
As they lapsed into silence, I screwed up my courage. I knew that taking them to the archive would be dangerous. But like it or not, I needed them.
“I need your help,” I said softly, my gaze flicking back and forth between them.
I expected Leandra to crack a joke. But instead, she studied my face, then furrowed her brow. “With what?”
“I can’t tell you.”
They exchanged curious looks.
“You should know it could get you into trouble. Maybe even kicked out of Madkey for good.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then Piper cleared her throat. “Is it important?”
“Very.”
“Then we’re in.”
Chapter 30
“I’ve never been here before,” Piper whispered as we slipped down the big toe hallway of Right Foot. “What’s it used for?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “At least on the surface.”
We continued to creep down the tube-like hallway, all the way to where Tad and MacPherson had fought. At the very end of the toe, I laid eyes on a small plaque. During my previous visit, I’d paid it little attention. But now, I studied it in earnest.
“There’s nothing here,” Leandra said, looking around. “Just that plaque.”
Piper leaned closer to the metallic slab. “This institution is dedicated to the great Roderick J. Madkey, esteemed wizard and friend to one and all,” she read aloud. Then she rubbed her chin, deep in thought. “It’s dated March 1747. It’s amazing to think this place is still standing on its original foundations. These days, you’re lucky if an enchanted building lasts a decade.”
“That’s great,” Leandra said, clearly disinterested. “So, is this it, Randy? You dragged us all the way down here just to look at some old plaque?”
“Yes.” I grabbed one end of the metal slab and gave it a tug. Noisily, it slid across the stone, revealing a swirling bundle of brightly-lit magic. “And no.”
“A conveyance portal?” Piper’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “How’d you find it?”
Tad had told me what to expect. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised. It wasn’t every day one uncovered a secret conveyance portal.
“Someone told me about it,” I said.
“Who?” Leandra asked.
“I can’t tell you.”
She frowned. “Well, then where does it go?”
Conveyance portals required fairly complex spells and always came in pairs. If you went in one portal, you’d come out the other one and vice versa.
“Madkey Archive,” I said.
Piper blinked. “Madkey has an archive?”
I stared at the swirling, churning portal, too entranced to answer her question. “I’m going in,” I announced. “Are you guys coming or not?”
They looked a little less certain now. Nevertheless, they approached the portal. We shared looks, then each of us extended a hand toward the bundled magic. It buzzed softly and suddenly, we were zipping through complete darkness.
Riding through a conveyance portal is generally a rollicking good time. The closest thing I can think of to describe it is sailing down a long, twisty water tube, only in complete darkness. Sometimes, you’re flying straight as an arrow. Other times, you’re tumbling around a steep curve backward and with your legs above your head. That’s why we’d entered at the same time. There’s nothing worse than sliding through a portal just ahead of someone else. That’s a good way to get your head kicked in.
Now, you might think the amount of time one spends in a conveyance portal has everything to do with the actual distance between the two points. But you’d be wrong. As far as I’ve been able to determine, the length of the ride, as well as the twists and turns along the way, are random.
Abruptly, all three of us slid onto a smooth platform. With a jarring smack, we careened against each other and then bumped into a gate.
Piper was the first to get up. Groaning, she lifted her back off the ground and started to feel around in the darkness. “I think … yes, we’re in a hoist.”
The hoist shuddered as Leandra and I gained our feet. Then it began to descend at a slow pace. Cool-lights flicked on and I saw we were entering a large room.
“That’s not an archive,” Leandra said.
“No,” Piper breathed. “It’s a garden.”
The room held a magnificent garden of such beauty and lushness that I knew magic had to be at work. The grass was green and just a bit on the long side. Trees towered overhead, their leaves letting in a cozy amount of illumination from overhanging cool-lights. A gazebo, freshly painted, sat in the middle of the garden.
Shifting my gaze to the far corner, I saw a stone platform. A fountain, spouting crystal blue water, occupied part of the platform. I also saw a small table, covered in a red-and-white checkerboard cloth. Mouth-watering goodies—fresh sandwiches, bananas, and doughcream—rested on its surface, offering up an incredible scent that couldn’t be challenged. In the very back corner of the platform, I noticed a fire pit with roaring flames. Beneath it, I caught a glimpse of bright, swirling colors.
“There’s another conveyance portal over there,” I said with a nod.
“Will it take us to the archive?” Piper asked.
“I think so.”
“Why the extra step?” Leandra wondered. “Why didn’t that first portal just take us straight there?”
I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that question. And I was even more sure they wouldn’t like it.
“I think this room is a trap,” I said.
Leandra gave me a wide-eyed look. “A what?”
“A trap.” I swallowed. “Actually, a rotating trap. It changes every time someone comes in here.”
Piper frowned. “By trap, do you mean death trap?”
I said nothing.
“Why are we only hearing about this now?” Leandra wondered, her eyes ablaze.
Again, I had no answer.
“Terrific.” Her hands met her hips. �
�Just terrific.”
A wave of guilt swept over me. “You don’t have to go any farther.” I nodded at the hoist’s conveyance portal. It was still there, swirling endlessly. “That should take you back to Right Foot.”
“We’re not leaving,” Piper said. “Right, Leandra?”
She sighed. “Right.”
The hoist came to a stop and the gate slid open. I took another look at the garden. If it contained a trap, it was well-concealed.
Hesitantly, I stepped off the hoist. Suddenly, the ground buckled under my weight and I began to sink into the soil. I tried to climb out, but the more I struggled, the deeper I dropped.
“Randy,” Piper shouted.
I was sinking fast with no end in sight. Twisting around, I lunged for her outstretched hand. She caught hold of my fingers. Leandra grabbed my other hand. Swiftly, they wrestled me back into the hoist.
I lay there for a second, gasping for air. “Thanks,” I managed. “How big was that hole anyway?”
Leandra glanced at the garden. “It’s kind of hard to tell.”
Catching my breath, I sat up. The grass was back in place, pristine as ever. There was no sign that I’d even set foot upon it.
Piper aimed her wand at the far platform. Her wrist shifted. Her lips moved. She stiffened up and her eyes took on a glassy appearance as Instinctia took hold. One second later, a raspberry streak burst out of her wand. It hit the platform, then blinked out of existence.
“What spell was that?” Leandra asked.
“Calfrock,” she replied, referring to Calfrock Zopra, a painting spell. “Only it didn’t work.”
“Let me try.” Leandra waved her wand and started to speak. Entering Instinctia, she threw out a spell of her own. An aureolin bolt shot forward with great promise. Then it vanished without a trace.
I frowned. “This room is magic-proof?”
“Apparently.” Piper exhaled. “So, how are we supposed to get to the portal?”
A tree stood near the hoist. Its branches, wide and sturdy, extended over the garden. It would take a pretty exceptional jump to reach the gazebo. But if we could manage it, we’d be within reach of other trees. From there, we just might be able to access the platform.
“How do you feel about a little climbing?” I asked.
“Great,” Leandra said. “Assuming it doesn’t involve a little falling as well.”
Stowing my wand in its holster, I tested the tree’s roots. They felt pretty firm. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, putting my full weight upon them. To my relief, they didn’t collapse or sink.
Feeling emboldened, I grabbed a branch. Kicking my shoes against the bark, I propelled myself up the trunk.
“How sturdy is that branch?” Piper called out.
“Pretty sturdy,” I replied as I climbed atop it.
“What happens if it breaks?”
I looked around, searching for a back-up plan. But I saw nothing. If the branch broke, I’d fall to the grass. That crazy soil would take care of the rest.
“Then I guess we get free burials,” I replied.
Rising to a crouch, I stepped into a crevice. Using knots and branches, I proceeded to scale the trunk until I was twenty feet off the ground. Then I crawled onto a long branch that led directly over the middle of the garden.
Meanwhile, Piper stepped to the roots. Once she was on solid footing, Leandra followed suit. As they scaled the trunk, I began to edge my way across the branch. At the halfway point, it started to sink. Rising to my feet, I took a few careful steps. But the branch was dropping way too quickly. I’d never reach the gazebo from this height.
I backtracked and the branch returned to its former height. Heart racing, I took a deep breath.
You can do this, I told myself. Don’t think. Just do it.
Putting on a burst of speed, I darted forward. The branch started to sag so I poured on even more speed. At the last second, I leapt into the air. Arms and legs flailing, I soared toward the gazebo. My legs came up short but my upper torso smashed into its side. I felt a jolt of searing pain and air whooshed out of my lungs. Frantically, I scrabbled at the tiled roof and pulled myself on top of the structure.
“Very graceful.” Leandra smirked. “A sasquatch couldn’t have done it any better.”
Piper giggled. I suppose I would’ve joined in if my chest hadn’t hurt so badly.
Piper walked onto the overhanging branch. Bouncing up and down, she tested its strength. Then she sprinted forward and made the leap.
Her feet landed on the gazebo’s edge. She tried to put on the brakes, but her momentum carried her forward. I braced myself. She ran into me and we collapsed in a heap.
“Whew,” she said. “That was close.”
Leandra was the last to make the jump. She came up a bit short, but Piper and I grabbed her clothes and yanked her onto the roof with us.
As she caught her breath, I twisted toward the platform. Colorful lawn chairs were strewn about the area along with a ramball and other summer essentials. Meanwhile, flames raged within the fire pit, partially obscuring the portal.
I approached another branch. Breaking off a few twigs, I tossed them onto the dirt. Instantly, the ground roiled and yawned open. Just like that, the twigs were gone.
I fought back an urge to panic. Gently, I tossed some twigs onto the stone platform. They bounced a few times before coming to a rest. And that was it. The stones didn’t try to swallow them or spit rocks or do anything else nasty.
Feeling a little better, I hiked out onto the branch. It started to dip under my weight.
“Hey, Randy.” Piper cleared her throat. “I just had a thought.”
“Can it wait?”
“What if the platform employs some kind of pressure mechanism? What if the twigs were too light to set it off?”
The branch dipped and I plummeted toward the ground. My feet touched the platform and I bent low, absorbing the impact. I braced myself for something, anything.
But I was safe.
Seeing this, my companions followed me down to the platform. Almost immediately, Leandra took a whiff of the air. “That smells awesome.”
Piper positively salivated. “Sure does.”
From across the room, the picnic spread had looked and smelled amazing. But up close, it was absolutely stupendous. Dueling aromas of doughcream, pulled pork, and barbecue ribs filled my nostrils. It took everything I had not to march over and start eating.
We hiked to the fire pit and watched the flames crackle for a minute or so. Then I put my hands up close before quickly withdrawing them. The fire was definitely real and definitely hot.
“I guess we need to put out the flames.” Leandra gave the picnic spread a fleeting look. “Any ideas?”
Grabbing an empty pitcher off of the table, Piper walked to the gurgling fountain. Carefully, she dipped it into the water.
I tensed up, waiting for something bad to happen. But everything went according to plan and a few moments later, she returned with a full pitcher. She studied the flames, then poured the liquid into the fire. The flames sizzled.
Then they exploded.
Giant, greasy bits of flame leapt out of the pit. One barely missed my shirt. Another passed between Leandra’s legs and struck a lawn chair, igniting it. More bits of fire collided with the doughcream and other decadent dishes. Within seconds, the entire platform was in flames.
“Well, that’s a nice how-do-you-do,” Piper sputtered as we backed up against the wall. “When did water become flammable anyway?”
Just then, flames hit the fountain and it erupted into an enormous blaze. Leandra grabbed the now-empty pitcher and stuck her nose into it. She sniffed, then recoiled in disgust. “That’s not water. It’s bizzlum. The food must’ve masked the scent.”
“We can’t stay here,” I warned.
Piper glanced at the trees. The sagging branches we’d used to cross the garden had reverted to their original positions. “Well, we can’t backtrack either.”<
br />
Leandra clenched her jaw. “Can’t stay, can’t go … that doesn’t leave a whole lot of options.”
“Just one, the way I see it.” I took a deep breath. “We do exactly what this garden wants us to do.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Which is?”
“We touch it.”
“And get buried alive?” She shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“I’m not talking about making a run for it. I’m talking about gathering dirt and using it to put out the flames.”
She eyed the inferno. “That’s going to take a lot of dirt.”
“We don’t need to put out those flames. Just the ones blocking the portal.” I held up the pitcher. “I’ll use this to get the dirt. I need you two to keep me from falling in again.”
“I’m lighter,” Piper said. “Let me handle the pitcher.”
I considered that, then tossed it to her. She slid to the edge of the platform. Leandra and I grabbed her shoulders and braced ourselves.
Taking a deep breath, she plunged the pitcher into the rich, soft soil. Instantly, it gave way to a deep, crumbling pit. Caught off guard, she lurched forward. Only our steady grip kept her from falling.
She scooped up some loose dirt and we pulled her back. Hustling to the pit, she dumped the soil onto the fire.
The flames winked out. Air rushed all around us, clearing away the smoke. For a moment, we stared at the swirling bundle of magic.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Leandra asked.
“Would you rather stay here?” Piper wondered.
The platform fire lurched toward us. In unison, we stepped forward.
The portal buzzed softly.
And then we were gone.
Chapter 31
I shot down a long, formless tube, tumbling end over end, trying to keep my wits about me. Abruptly, space unfolded upon itself. An enormous crack rang out. And then I came hurtling out of the void.
I smacked into something hard and unforgiving and lost my wand. Scrambling along a curved stone floor, I grabbed hold of it. Then I looked around. I didn’t see anyone. But what I did see was weirdly awesome, causing my jaw to unhinge and flap gently in the light breeze.
