“What are you saying?”
Solomon was taken aback. Her voice had grown cold again, tinged with anger.
“I’m not saying anything other than what I did. If you don’t want to go…if you can’t…I’ll do it.”
“I’ll go. And you can bring your stupid tea. I’ll drink it and open that door.”
She banged to her feet and left the room.
Solomon looked at Greta, seeing the same surprise there that he was sure was on his own face.
“What did I do?” he asked.
“Nothing, dear. You did nothing. Celia has a lot going on right now, that’s all.”
Her expression said different. This behavior of Celia’s was new to her as well.
“Would you please make this?” Solomon asked, sliding the sack across the table. “Just enough for a couple of cups.”
“Of course.”
Greta took the sack and made her way to the kitchen, filling the old kettle with water.
“What else do you need?” Friedrich asked.
Solomon shrugged. “Nothing, I think. I have my sword, so if I have to fight, I can. I’ll bring the tea with me and we’ll see what we see.”
“What if that’s your way home? Will you go?”
“That depends, I guess. I don’t want to abandon this place, and you. If we can figure out a way to stop what’s been happening, then maybe.”
Friedrich nodded and climbed to his feet. “That’s what I thought. Be right with you.”
He disappeared into the small room that he and Greta used as a bedroom. When he came back, he was dressed to go outside and had a cudgel hanging at his side.
“Whoa,” Solomon said. “What are you doing? You’re not going.”
“Don’t be dense,” Friedrich replied. “Of course I am. What did you think? That you and Celia would disappear, and we’d be okay not knowing what happened? That she would be?” He indicated Greta with a lift of his chin. “No, I’ll be going along. The kids can stay here with Greta, and we’ll all come back together.”
Solomon didn’t like the idea but had no good reason to argue against it. Friedrich was a grown man who made his own decisions.
“All right,” he said. “In that case, we better make it three cups of tea.”
The water boiled and Greta took leaves from the leather sack.
“Yag-Morah said we only need to use a tiny bit,” Solomon said.
“There’s a lot in here,” Greta replied, peering into the bag. “Plenty to take with you.”
“No,” Solomon said. “Keep it here. Use it when you need to if we don’t come back.”
“And if you do?”
“Then we’ll all have a nice cup of tea,” Solomon smiled. “Maybe in celebration.”
“I hope that’s true,” she said.
She poured tea into three chipped cups and covered each of them with a cloth, tying it around the rim with a length of twine.
“Don’t spill it,” she said. “You don’t have the time to waste coming back for more.”
“We’ll do our best,” Solomon replied.
Celia returned to the common room and took her cup without a word. She moved toward the door, then stopped. She turned and walked back quickly to Greta, setting her cup down and wrapping the woman in a fierce hug.
“Thank you for everything,” Solomon heard her whisper. “I’ll find her if I can.”
“I know you will, dear,” Greta said, batting back the tears. “And send my old man home to me.”
“Promise,” Celia replied.
Then she picked up her cup and walked from the house without another word.
For his part, Solomon stopped to say goodbye to Christoph and the rest.
“You guys behave, right? And help Greta.”
“We will,” Christoph said. “But we could come, too. No one knows the city better than us.”
“I know that,” Solomon smiled. “And that’s why you’re staying. Watch out for her. And help Friedrich when he comes back.”
Christoph nodded. “We will.” He swallowed and then leaned in closer. “Thanks,” he whispered. “For the other kids, I mean. They were getting…” He trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say.
“You’ve done great by them,” Solomon whispered back. “They’re lucky to have you. I’ll see you again.”
The boy nodded sharply once and stepped back, offering Solomon his hand. Solomon shook it, smiled once more, and followed Friedrich to the door, tucking the mask into his belt.
♦ ♦ ♦
“That’s it, huh?” Solomon stared at the boarded-up windows and closed door.
“Yep. It gives you the creeps, doesn’t it?” Celia said.
Solomon didn’t reply. In truth, he felt nothing. It was a large, old building with its better days behind it. Inside, there might be evil, but from here it was only a building.
He didn’t want it to sound like he was disagreeing with Celia, though. She had been silent on the way here and he could feel the icy disapproval coming from her. He didn’t know what it was about, only that it was directed at him.
When this was over, when they were back in the Greenweald and she’d had time to adjust, they’d talk. Even if they couldn’t be together, at least they could be friends. That much, he was sure of.
“All right,” he said, “let’s go.”
The three climbed the steps, and this time, the door opened easily, as if whatever force was inside the place knew it was useless to try to keep them out. Solomon noticed that Friedrich was sweating and breathing rapidly as they passed into the front room.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Great,” Friedrich replied. “Let’s get this done.”
Solomon patted his shoulder and started to move, but Celia pushed past him.
“This way,” she said, crossing the room and opening the door on the other side.
The hallway stretched before them, the door at the end open. The three others were all firmly closed, with only silence coming from behind them.
They walked down the hall, Friedrich holding his cudgel in one hand and his tea in the other. Moments later, they were at the stairs, peering down into the darkness of the lower level.
“Pretty dark, I’d say,” Solomon said. “Time for tea?”
He removed the cover from his cup and lifted it to his lips. It was still hot and smelled faintly of cloves and some other slightly spicy fragrance that he couldn’t identify. His sip sent an intense, herbal flavor washing through his mouth. It was ridiculously good and he couldn’t stop himself from taking another larger gulp.
Friedrich was doing the same, pure bliss on his face. Celia hadn’t even taken the cover from hers.
“Drink up,” Solomon told her. “It’s very good.”
“I’ll wait,” she said. “What if it wears off quickly?”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” he replied. “Good call.”
It was, and he was a little embarrassed that he really hadn’t thought of it. His confidence in Yag-Morah was such that it never occurred to him that her gift would be anything less than exactly what was needed.
He looked down the stairwell again, and, this time, could clearly see the cobblestone floor below. It wasn’t as if he were seeing it in broad daylight, but as if he could see through the darkness itself.
“Race you,” he said to Friedrich, and walked rapidly down the winding staircase, the other man on his heels.
He felt wonderful. They’d open the door below, find out what was in there, deal with it, and return Lyssa to her parents, as well as everyone else that was taken. And he was sure that was case. It didn’t make sense those who were stolen were actually turned into the hunters. No, they were in there somewhere, and Solomon would free them.
Then, they could all go back and have some of Greta’s fantastic cooking. Stay there for a short time before returning to the Greenweald.
The thought of having to take over as Head of House Towering Oaks caused a momentary grimace, b
ut then it occurred to him that maybe Shireen would have grown into the role and would want to continue. That would be fine with him! That way he could spend more time healing the rift that had opened between him and Celia. When that was done, well …. what else was there, really?
The door at the bottom of the stairs was exactly as Celia described it. Thick wood with heavy iron straps running across it. He pulled on it slightly and found that was as she said, too. Stuck fast, with no sign of give.
He waited for her to come down the stairs, moving more slowly than he and Friedrich had. He smiled at the other man while they waited for her.
“Well, do you want to do it, or should I?” Solomon removed the mask from his belt and held it out to her.
Celia looked at it and shuddered.
“No problem,” Solomon said.
He turned back to the door and without hesitating, lifted the mask to his face.
The effects of Yag-Morah’s tea were gone almost instantly. The stairwell was plunged into gloom again, although he could still see well enough through the eyeholes. The door quivered in its frame.
In the back of his mind, the thought occurred to him that he could simply open the door and go home. The way home was in there, he was sure of it. Leave Dunfield and its problems behind him. Leave Celia and her new attitude here as well. Who needed it?
That wasn’t him, though. While the euphoria that Yag-Morah’s tea filled him with was gone, the good feelings, the right ones, were still there. He’d do what he could for Dunfield, if it was at all possible, and find a way to shut this whole thing down.
As he reached for the door handle, something moved on his face and he felt a tiny sting. His cheek went numb, but he ignored it and pulled the door open.
The stairwell was filled with an ugly green glow coming from the room beyond.
“Come on,” he said to Celia, his voice sounding hollow through the mask.
His face was really starting to go numb. Despite the power of Yag-Morah’s tea, he needed to take the mask off as quickly as he could, but from what Celia had said, if he removed it, the door would close.
Instead, he drew his sword and moved around to the back of the door. He inserted the blade into the gap between the door and the frame, with the hilt turned horizontal.
Then, holding the sword with one hand, he reached up and tugged the mask from his face. It came free with a sucking sound, and he felt something tear itself from his cheek with a trickle of blood.
The door started to swing shut, and Solomon backed up to let it close until the hilt of the sword prevented it from going any further.
He turned to smile at Celia, rather proud of his solution.
Upstairs, there was the sound of one door after another slamming open.
Chapter 70
“They’re coming,” Celia said.
She knew it! She knew from the moment they came into this place that this was going to be it. It was him. Everything that Solomon did ended up being some big event, some end-of-story happening that carried everyone else along with him.
And now here they were, trapped at the bottom of the stairwell like rats in a bucket.
The whistles started, a lot of them, all competing against one another in a confusing cacophony of noise. If the whistles were communication, this was the shouting of a mob chasing down its prey.
“We need to get out of here,” she said.
“Too late,” Solomon replied. “In here. It’s our only chance.”
He stood in the doorway to the glowing chamber, one hand on his sword, ready to pull it free and let the door close all the way. Once that happened, their only way out was through whatever was in that room. If they didn’t find the answer in there, it was all over.
Friedrich moved past Solomon and she heard his muttered oath.
“You better be right about this,” she spat as she entered.
Inside, she could see what drew the expletive from Friedrich.
The chamber was dug out below the manor. It was several yards across, with a hard-packed dirt floor and circular in shape. There were no other doors leading from it.
Around the walls were stone arches, the blocks built against the sides of the chamber. One was much larger than the others and it was from there that the green glowing light was coming. The light was a sickly color, like swamp water or pus from a wound.
It pulsated and every time that it did, a wave of nausea passed through her, growing stronger with each strobe of the light. She put her hands to her stomach and pressed, determined not to give in to it.
Friedrich didn’t seem to be affected by it. He simply stood, mouth hanging open, staring at the light, then moving his gaze to the other arches.
One was a healthier green color, like rich foliage after a spring rain. But the swirling color was shot through with thin tendrils of black.
It was home. She could feel the Greenweald through it as surely as she could feel the sickness of the other one. All she needed to do was step into the light and she’d be home.
She turned to Solomon, meaning to tell him that she found the gate the Mar-trollid had told them about.
He was standing in the still open doorway, sword in hand, facing the stairwell.
Hunters stood on the stairs, silent now. Celia realized that their whistles had died away several moments ago while she gaped at the colors in the arches on the walls.
“Why isn’t the door closed?” she asked.
“Why is anything the way it is around here?” Solomon answered. “It’s staying open now. I’ll deal with it.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go home, Celia. Go back to the Greenweald. I’ll hold them here.”
Of all the arrogant, self-centered …
Of course, he would stay. He would be the self-sacrificing hero again! The living legend who always did what was right no matter the personal cost. While she would go back to being just Celia, the one who ran away and left the hero to his fate.
“You’re out of your mind,” she yelled. “Come on! We go together. Friedrich, too! We’ll find a way to get him home!”
Solomon glanced over his shoulder, that smile that she once found so charming now doing nothing more than adding to her fury.
“Please, Celia. Your House needs you more than mine needs me. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
“You’ll both go now,” a new voice said.
Friedrich stepped toward Solomon. Beyond him, the hunters shifted eagerly.
Celia saw what was happening. They, or whatever controlled them, was unsure of Solomon. They weren’t going to flee, although they were in no hurry to attack either. But if Friedrich was left to guard their backs, they’d swarm him in moments.
“They can’t all get through the door at once,” Friedrich said to Solomon, as if he were reading Celia’s thoughts. “I’ll hold them.”
“For what?” Solomon asked. “I told you I’m not leaving until I’ve figured out how to—”
“And you can’t do that from here,” Friedrich said. “Lyssa isn’t here. None of them are. She’s somewhere else, if she’s still alive, and we all know it’s through that big gate. But you can’t go there yet. You’ll die as sure as anything. You’ll need help, so go home and get it. If everyone there is like you two, whatever is beyond won’t stand a chance. Please. It’s Lyssa’s only hope.”
Celia wanted to scream. After all this time, it was coming to this. Lyssa was gone, maybe truly dead. And now they were supposed to abandon this place and the people she’d come to care so much about?
There was no way Solomon would agree to that. Yes, it was against his code, but also it would rob him of his chance to be the big man, the one who saved the day again.
She watched in awe as he moved back a half-step, still keeping his eyes on the hunters, and carefully handed the sword to Friedrich.
“No!” she screamed, at the same time the whistles cut into the air and the hunters moved.
Solomon turned and sprinted. Celi
a tried to move but he was too fast. He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her as if she were a child and ran for the gate to the Greenweald, her undrunk cup of tea flying from her hand.
She only had time to see Friedrich awkwardly swing the blade at the first hunter who reached him before a brilliant, dark green light washed over her.
She was falling, Solomon’s arms still around her. Her breath was gone from her lungs and she struggled to draw any more in. Her body spun in rapid circles and forced her to close her eyes against the vertigo.
Then, she was lying on a rough stone floor. The nausea was gone, the dizziness faded.
Solomon was no longer holding her.
With a groan, she rolled over, pushing herself up from the floor onto her hands and knees.
“Damn you,” she moaned. “Why?”
“It’s the only way to help them,” Solomon answered quietly.
“You don’t know that, you arrogant, selfish….”
She trailed off, and he didn’t answer her.
Finally, she sat up and looked around. They were in a cave, bare of anything except for a glowing stone set into the ceiling, filling the chamber with a weak light.
She could feel the trees outside. She was home.
Chapter 71
“Of course, there are other gates,” Thaddeus said. He still sat with his back against the wall. Willow may have healed Melanie, but she’d made no sign of doing the same for him and he was exhausted. His foot was throbbing, and even the old wound in his hand seemed to be making itself known.
“Why do you say that?” Darius asked.
“Think about it. Think about what you know about Malachi. If he has some way of bringing those things in from other worlds, and if he’s been communicating with these mysterious ‘friends’ of his, do you really think he’d let everything be so far out of his control? No. There are other gates, probably the main ones, and they’re hidden somewhere in Subtle Hemlock.”
“Then we go after them,” Melanie said. “Shut them down.”
“Sure,” Thaddeus snorted. “And how do we do that? Shut them down, I mean.”
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