“They’re not for touching,” warned Tristan.
Simon made a face. “Nah. I think they’re supposed to scare whoever comes in here. I mean, just look at the detail on their faces—they look real, and it’s super scared, like a horde of flesh-eating zombies tried to eat it.”
He poked his finger into one of the ears. “I saw an art exposé at the Mocca art museum in Toronto like this before, except the sculptures had no skin, and you could see all the muscles, tendons, guts—”
“Nice,” said Zoey. “Remind me never to check that out.”
She stopped and inspected a crystal sculpture of a human man dressed in nineteenth century clothes. Her blood froze when she looked at his eyes. There was something that seemed almost real about them. The face was the face of absolute terror, like it had been sculpted moments before the subject died in excruciating pain. There was something oddly familiar about the face, too. It was so lifelike that she could almost imagine him waking up and talking.
“Told you they were weird.” Simon poked the statue in the ear with his finger. “Loads of weird.”
“But they look so—”
“Real,” answered Tristan. He examined a crystal statue of a little woman who reminded Zoey of the one of the leprechaun gang. She could have been one of their wives.
“This feels wrong, for lack of a better word,” said Tristan. “I don’t like it. I don’t like this place. We shouldn’t have come—”
“We had to come, remember?” urged Zoey. “We have no choice; they’re the only ones that can help us.”
She glanced around the room, her bravery diminishing the more she lingered in the eerie castle. “Even if this place is a little . . . strange—”
“It’s more than a little strange. It’s dangerous.”
Tristan walked off, leaving Zoey staring at the back of his head. It was such a lovely head. She cursed herself for thinking such a thing at such a time.
Tristan was right.
Zoey frowned. All the sculptures had one thing in common—fear. It was as if whoever sculpted them made sure their subjects had been constantly terrorized. Maybe the Minitians weren’t as friendly as she had hoped.
“So, where are these sorceresses anyway,” said Simon as he unsuccessfully tried to pick the nose of the man in the statue Zoey had inspected moments before.
“I’d have thought they would have shown up by now, since we’re like trespassing.” Simon looked up, “Maybe they’re . . . gone. It would explain the lack of furniture. I know—maybe they saw the end of the world in their crystal balls and magically transported themselves to another universe.”
Zoey could tell by the anxious expression on Tristan’s face that he felt the same way.
“They’re here,” said Zoey. “I can feel them watching us. It’s creepy. Don’t you feel it, Simon?”
“I just feel hungry.”
Zoey smacked him on the arm. “You better stop touching those. They’re probably like their prized possessions or something. Besides they’re the only things in here, so stop playing around with them. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to not touch things that didn’t belong to you?”
Simon ignored her and kept poking. “Nope. She’s the one that encouraged me to do it.”
As they ventured further, they came to the end of the great room and walked through a corridor that opened up into another chamber.
The new space was like a circular cathedral. The ceiling was so high it was lost in the gloom. The blood-red sky peeked through a series of tall, skinny windows, and the red light made the gleaming white walls look like they were stained with blood.
Shadowy corridors led off in different directions. The silver walls were carved with scenes from another world where Minitians battled giant elephant-like creatures under planets and stars that Zoey did not recognize. In one scene a group of Minitians kneeled before a godlike creature with antlers.
But it was the floor that made her the most nervous. The white marble was inscribed with black symbols and runes. It was as though the floor was a giant curse. She did her best not to step on them. Just like the other rooms, this place had suffered damage as well.
“Don’t step on the markings,” Zoey warned.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Simon muttered.
Tristan scanned the exits. “Which way do we go now—?”
WHO ARE YOU!
A voice blared inside Zoey’s head.
HOW DARE YOU ENTER THE WHITE FORTRESS!
Zoey fell to her knees in excruciating pain. Over her own screams, she could hear Tristan and Simon wailing, too. But she couldn’t even move to help them, because her own agony pinned her to the floor.
But then the pain stopped as suddenly as it had appeared.
Zoey opened her eyes.
Twelve tall black-robed figures with featureless white faces stood in front of them.
Chapter 10
The High Sorceress
White-hot pain exploded behind Zoey’s eyes again. Her vision blurred from the agony. Tears streaked down her face as she pressed her hands against her head. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. Please let it end. Her brain was on fire.
Once more, the pain vanished as fast as it had appeared. Zoey could see that Tristan and Simon were both hunched forward on their knees. Their faces were red and wet, and their breathing was shallow.
Who are you! Repeated the same voice inside her mind. It was a woman’s voice, strong and commanding.
Speak now, or you will all die!
Just as the searing pain started again, Zoey raised her hand. “Stop! Please! I’ll tell you!”
The pain vanished.
Zoey’s body shook, and she didn’t even bother to try to stand. She had no idea which of the Minitians spoke to her; they all looked identical except that some were a few inches shorter or taller. And the fact that they didn’t have mouths wasn’t exactly helpful.
Heart hammering in her chest, Zoey wiped the tears from her eyes.
“My name is Zoey St. John,” her voice cracked, and she strained to continue. “And these are my friends, Tristan Price and Simon Brown.”
How did you find the secret fortress? Are you sorcerers disguised as little children? What kind of magic is this? We sense a force of power . . . something different . . . .
Zoey glanced at her friends for support. She wasn’t sure if she should reveal her talents to these obviously hostile and suspicious mystics. Her friends’ faces were just as unsure as hers. Although she couldn’t explain why, she had the sudden feeling that she better keep her talents to herself.
“We’re Op—Agents,” corrected Zoey. “We’re here on official business—”
Why have you forsaken the oaths and trespassed into this sacred place? Those who dare walk into the white fortress will die a most painful death. It is known.
Again Zoey tried to figure out who had spoken, to try and seek a connection, but it was impossible. She glanced at each face and then said, “Uh, I—we didn’t know about any oaths. The agency didn’t tell us. I’m sorry—”
Suddenly, the light dimmed and darkness thickened around Zoey and her friends. On either side, an army of shadows appeared—tribes of ghouls with long spindly arms and legs, demons with red eyes and veiny bat-like wings, twisted bulbous creatures with boils and leaking yellow pus, masses of putrid worm-like beasts with hundreds of gapping maws full of teeth, and clusters of floating, transparent deformed specters.
The air turned cold, and invisible icy hands squeezed her throat. She wanted to run. She was facing a horde of horrors that would snap anyone’s sanity. But she knew that she and her friends would most certainly die if she ran.
The human lies, hissed another voice that was deeper and hoarse like an older female.
They are enchanters, tricksters. Kill them all! Kill them! They’re polluting our home with their presence.
The shadows rustled and shifted. Hundreds of horrible glowing red eyes focused on Zoey and her friends. As
the shadows neared, Zoey could almost feel her life drifting away. The sounds of scuffling got louder. The darkness became even deeper. She could tell Tristan and Simon were on the verge of panic, too. She had to stand her ground for all of them. She had to make things right, or they were all going to die.
With every bit of strength she could muster she bellowed, “MUTTAB! I’m looking for Muttab!”
The shadows vanished. The room was bright again.
The Minitian line parted, and a single figure stepped forward. It looked exactly like the others, except it was clad in the purest flowing white robes. The tallest among her sisters, her robes billowed around her like white watery light as she crossed the room. Zoey squinted as the sorceress neared. It was like staring up at the sun. The Minitian had no eyes, nose, or mouth under her white hood. Where her face should have been, Zoey could only see a blank white façade, like a mask, just like the others.
The white sorceress stooped over Zoey. Her power radiated from her like heat from a fire. Her pointy white boots peeked from under her robes.
How do you know that name? Questioned a soft voice inside her head. Somehow Zoey could tell it was older than the other two voices, and it had more kindness in it.
At first, Zoey was afraid to answer. She didn’t want to feel the scorching pain in her head or to see the horrible demons that came from the shadows again. But something inside her told her it was safe to speak up. It was as if the white Minitian was making her feel more at ease, like she was putting a spell on her . . . .
Please, you can tell me, Zoey St. John . . . .
It was weird. The voice sounded a lot like Aria’s. If she closed her eyes, she could swear that Aria was standing in front of her and not the white sorceress. This was magic again. At first, it had felt like dark magic, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore. The voice didn’t seem to want to hurt her.
Zoey could see Tristan and Simon waiting for her to answer. She didn’t want to disappointment them.
“She was—is my mother’s friend,” she said finally, glad her voice was even.
The white sorceress loomed over her but didn’t say anything.
Zoey wiggled uncomfortably under the stare of the white witch. Even though she didn’t have eyes, Zoey could still feel them on her.
She tried to gather her thoughts and suddenly realized what she needed to say.
“She . . . she delivered a message to me from my mother. My mother’s name is Elizabeth Steele—do you know her? No, probably not, stupid question.”
Zoey fumbled with her words. “The thing is . . . I thought I could ask Muttab or you for help—”
This beast dares asks the High Sorceress for help! A loud voice bellowed in Zoey’s mind.
They should all die for such insolence! Never has a mortal spoken so out of terms. Only death could make this right again.
Zoey looked over to Tristan and Simon. The stress on their faces and the whites around their eyes, told her that the voices spoke to them as well.
With dread creeping inside her, she looked back at the group of Minitians. They all looked the same. How could anyone tell them apart? Was Muttab among them? Maybe she had led her friends into a trap—
The ground beneath Zoey’s feet trembled. A rumble like the roar of thunder bounced inside the chamber. Dust and debris cascaded down on Zoey and her friends like heavy snow.
The Minitians ran for cover as part of their castle ceiling fell on them. They were restless, fidgeting on the spot, and looking around nervously. This wasn’t an ordinary occurrence. Zoey could almost sense the fear in them. They were afraid, but of what? What was happening to their beloved castle?
A black-robed Minitian inched forward. She cocked her head in their direction.
High Sorceress, we must rid ourselves of these mortals. Are the shades of the white fortress to be thus polluted? Their mere presence is a mockery of our sacred laws. Those who seek and find the white fortress are our enemies. This is a clever plot to undermine us, to use children. Do not be fooled. They must be killed! The humans and the Mysterian must die!
A mixture of anger and fear welled in Zoey. She knew coming here was a risk, but she didn’t realize that their lives would be in danger. She had thought that she just needed to persuade them to help. Now it seems that she needed to persuade them to spare their lives.
Yes, we must rid ourselves of the vile beasts, said another voice.
YES! Chorused many voices at once.
Kill them!
“I think if we want to make a run for it . . . the time is now,” whispered Simon. A faint smile twitched on his lips. She knew he was only trying to make everyone feel better.
The high sorceress waved a delicate hand.
It is curious that three children have found their way into the white fortress when it is known that only those who possess magic can break through the barriers. You say you are not magicians, but then how did you find the fortress if not aided by our enemies?
“Please, we’re not sorcerers; we’re Sevenths,” began Zoey. “We only came here to ask for help—”
Our enemies have tried to steal our secrets and failed. Those who are foolish enough to attempt to trespass pay with their lives. And on this day you will die.
Zoey stopped breathing and the blood left her face. She turned and looked at her friends. Tristan clenched his jaw and drew his blade, but Zoey knew his blade would be no match for magic.
Simon looked green and avoided Zoey’s eyes.
It all seemed like a bad dream. How did her mother befriend such a hostile group? Where was Muttab?
The high sorceress inclined her head.
Children are foolish creatures. You will be given a test . . . if you fail, you will die.
Zoey frowned as she tried to make sense of what the sorceress had just said.
“What? What kind of test? What does that mean—?”
Suddenly the room darkened, and for a horrible moment, Zoey thought the demon shadows were back. She moved towards Tristan and Simon and grabbed her boomerang.
Survive this test, and I will grant you safe passage back to your lives. But you need to prove to us your worth. If you live, then perhaps we shall discuss what you need from us. We shall see . . . .
Zoey’s mouth tasted like metal. “What does that mean? Survive what? What kind of test?”
“Hopefully it’s not a math test. I suck at math,” muttered Simon.
“I don’t like this,” said Tristan as he gripped his blade in his hand.
“You’re not the only one.” With her boomerang firmly in her hand, Zoey scanned the room.
The sorceress raised her hands. Her thin pale arms peeked from the sleeves of her white robes.
Who will survive the first test? Or will you all be lost . . . ?
Before Zoey could protest, the chamber dissolved into darkness.
Chapter 11
Masters of Illusions
Zoey sat at a kitchen table.
She felt sleepy, like she had just woken up. She smelled coffee and pancakes. A man with dark hair and dark eyes sat across from her reading his newspaper. He seemed oddly familiar.
“Don’t forget to drink your orange juice. You need more vitamin C,” said a woman’s voice.
When Zoey looked up, her jaw dropped.
A woman with fire-red hair and big green eyes walked into the kitchen. She wore a fitted white shirt and black pants. “And don’t forget your father and I are going to dinner tonight with Kathy and James, so you’ll be on your own.”
She popped a piece of toast into her mouth.
“M—mom?” Zoey’s mouth was dry. It felt odd to say that word, but she didn’t understand why it should.
Her mother sipped the rest of her coffee and set the empty mug in the sink. “What is it, dear?”
Zoey looked across the table. “Dad?”
Her father looked up from his paper. “Hmm? What?”
Again, Zoey had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but then
it faded when she looked at the smile on her father’s face. She could see love in his eyes. Her father loved her.
What’s wrong with me?
“Nothing.” Zoey shrugged, gulped some orange juice, and settled her glass on the table. “I just feel weird today.”
Her mother put her hand on Zoey’s forehead, and Zoey couldn’t help but smile up at her mother. How beautiful she looked, she wanted to reach out and hug her.
“Huh, well, you’re not warm, so you don’t have a fever,” said her mother, and then she checked her cell phone. “But don’t take any chances. Make sure you wash your hands often at school . . . there could be a bug going around. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I will.”
Zoey couldn’t stop smiling. Her parents were here with her. They were awesome. This whole scenario was awesome. And yet she still felt like something was off, like there was something missing . . . .
A ring came from the front door.
She didn’t know why, but Zoey stood up and blurted out. “I’ll get it.”
She pushed her chair back and ran down the hallway, feeling happier than ever. She pulled open the door.
“Hey, you ready?” said Tristan. His smile sent Zoey’s stomach into a series of spasms.
“Tristan?”
“Yeah? What? Did you forget we were going to go to school together?” Her stomach twisted in knots again when he smiled.
“Uh . . .” Zoey rubbed her temples. “No, it’s just I’m feeling weird today. Let me get my bag—”
A lanky teen with blond hair strolled along the street across from Zoey and Tristan. She felt as though she knew him.
“Simon?”
The boy stopped and looked at Zoey strangely.
“You know him?” asked Tristan, peering at the teen who was now coming towards them.
“Of course I do, and so you do.”
Tristan shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
Zoey frowned. Simon stood at the bottom of the steps looking confused.
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