by Jeff Rosen
“Now to fix that fracture. Feasibly …”
“Fix it feasibly … or feasibly fix it?” Kip gulped.
Lemenecky removed a vial of pink smoke from his bag and uncorked it.
“Breathe it in.”
Kip inhaled the vial. Nothing happened for a moment; then the swelling and bruising in his ankle began to magically shrink.
“Amazing.” He smiled. “Feels better already.”
“Breath of Bone-Stitch.” Lemenecky nodded. “My own formula.”
Kip made a face and his body began shaking. He grabbed Caley’s hand and squeezed down hard.
“Is he OK?” Caley asked.
“There are one or two side effects. A few kinks I haven’t quite worked out yet. No need to panic. Possibly …”
Kip stopped shaking and his body went stiff.
“What’s happened to him?” Caley asked, alarmed.
“Bone-Stitch is effective at joining bones together. However, it tends to join most everything else together as well while the affected part heals. Momentarily. Maybe …”
“Momentarily, maybe? Or maybe, momentarily?” said Caley.
Kip’s skin began to take on the color and texture of marble.
“Is that part of the cure?” Caley asked.
“I may have miscalculated the dosage. But not to worry, I have an antidote. Somewhere. Sometimes …”
Lemenecky began rummaging through his bag again, but his beard pinned him to the ground and began to poke him mercilessly with a tongue depressor. Kip was turning to stone. In another minute, he’d be a living statue.
“Pink smoky bottle!” gasped Lemenecky, gesturing to his bag. “He needs to drink it. While he can!”
Caley found the bottle and emptied it down Kip’s throat. In an instant, he was back to normal. Doctor Lemenecky bandaged Kip’s ankle, then had another coughing fit and stumbled out as his beard overturned the contents of his medical bag over his head.
Caley looked down. Kip was still holding her hand. He turned red and let go, tearing off his tie, which was scorched and shredded from the attack in the woods.
“That was my good tie. Mom’s gonna kill me. What happened, anyway? All I remember was those things from that factory attacked me. Then a bomb went off.”
“Mr. Gorsebrooke.”
They turned to see Duchess Odeli entering the infirmary.
“I understand there was some sort of wolf attack?” the duchess asked, staring at Kip.
“Not … exactly,” Kip responded.
“Then perhaps you would tell me what did happen,” said the duchess.
“We were in the Wander—”
“Wandering around the gardens!”
Everyone turned to see Neive hurrying in.
“Neive!” Kip and Caley said together, relieved to see she was safe.
“We were in the palace gardens.” Neive turned to Caley and Kip with a leading look. “We all were.”
“The gardens?” repeated the duchess.
“Yes … the … gardens.” Caley slowly turned from Neive to the duchess.
“What were you doing in the gardens? During an evacuation order?” The duchess was staring holes through everyone by now.
“What were we doing in the gardens? During an evacuation order?” Kip repeated cluelessly. “Good question. Makes no sense—”
Neive elbowed his bandaged ankle.
“Ow!” Kip groaned.
“Sorry. Nervous twitch,” said Neive.
“The castle … moved,” Caley began haltingly. “And we all ended up there. And a hippo-hedge attacked me. Kip saved my life. Maybe I should knight him or something. Do they do that in Erinath?”
The duchess didn’t look at all convinced by Caley’s story and seemed about to ask more questions when the castle gave a little shudder, and she ordered Caley and Neive to return immediately to their quarters.
•
WHEN Caley got back to her rooms with Neive, she quickly shut the door behind them.
“Neive, why did you tell the duchess we were in the gardens?”
“We can’t tell anyone we were in the Wandering Woods. Ever.”
“Because of that factory making those … things?”
“Not just that. What else do you remember?”
“I went to help Kip, and there was some kind of explosion.”
Neive stared back at her with a searching look, as if she suddenly didn’t recognize her. “Athrucruth,” she said finally.
Caley stared blankly at Neive.
Neive turned to the window. Night was gathering and rain had started to fall, a cold autumn drizzle that fogged the windows and seemed to seal in the castle.
“They tell stories about it,” she began quietly. “To frighten children. ‘Better be good, or the athrucruth will come …’”
“What’s it look like?”
“Nobody knows. No one’s ever seen one. It’s supposed to be extinct. Long ago there were monsters here. This was the worst. And there’s only one person who had its baest.”
“Who?”
Neive kept staring out the window.
“Who?” repeated Caley.
Neive turned to her, her face pale.
“Olpheist.”
“Is that why it attacked me?”
“It didn’t attack you. I saw it. It made the Unbreakable Bond.”
“The athrucruth is my baest? But … you said it’s only the baest of Olpheist. So, does that mean …”
“You’re not Olpheist, obviously.” Neive shook her head. “There has to be some other explanation.”
“Now we both have a secret,” Caley said quietly.
CHAPTER NINE
Orocs
As if having an athrucruth inside you wasn’t bad enough, the next day proved the worst in Caley’s life (and that was really saying something). Her schedule had something new on it simply entitled ‘Equidium.’ Kip seemed obsessed with it, but Caley still had no clue what it was. The first-years were all told to meet in the courtyard, and everyone was talking back and forth excitedly when Caley arrived.
“I’ve been looking forward to this forever!” Kip told her, wriggling like an excited puppy (which technically he partly was). “You have to be thirteen.”
“I can’t believe this is finally the day,” said Tessa O’Toole (or it might have been Taran—both twins had their hair in ponytails today). “I was so excited, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either,” said Lucas Mancini (and that was really saying something).
A few more students hurried toward them, and Caley’s heart sank. After a week of successfully avoiding Ithica Blight and her gang of tiara-topped twits, her luck had finally run out because there they were. This time, Ithica didn’t even bother to bow to her. One of the Pingintees started to, but Ithica stepped on her foot.
The duchess headed in their direction, looking even sterner than usual.
“Follow me. Single file. Stay together. The Equidium is not a place you want to get lost in.”
The duchess led everyone through an archway and down the steps of a long, twisting tunnel. They arrived at a heavy wooden door with the letter E carved into it and what appeared to be an enormous dragonfly. Everyone followed her into a stable that looked very old—even older than the rest of the castle. Every surface was worn smooth but well cared for, like a family heirloom that had been handed down. The stalls were so high Caley couldn’t see the horses, but she heard odd-sounding shrieks coming from them.
“Into your armor. Quickly,” announced the duchess, pointing to two changing rooms. “When you are ready, I will escort you in.”
Everyone rushed into the rooms except Lidia Vowell.
“I’m sorry, Lidia,” said the duchess, “but we do not have a species-fluid changing room here.”
Lidia looked disappointed and headed in with the girls.
Inside the changing room stood rows of lockers with the students’ names already on them in brass plaques. They opened them to reveal
suits of armor inside. Caley opened hers.
It was empty.
“Oh, dear,” said Ithica with fake concern. “I don’t think they’ll allow you in the Equidium in that sad old frock of yours.”
Caley didn’t appreciate Ithica’s remark about her mother’s clothes, but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.
Everyone began to climb excitedly into their armor. The suits were made of strong strips of interlaced roots reinforced here and there with crystals embedded between them, giving the armor an overall shimmering appearance. The helmets, with flowing rope-braided neck guards, were topped with a variety of carvings: antlers, bull horns, wings, fish fins, and animal heads. It reminded Caley of samurai armor (if samurai armor grew out of the ground). It looked pretty cool, and she stood there awkwardly as everyone admired their suits, trying to pretend she didn’t mind not going to the Equidium (whatever that was).
A circle of tiara twits fawned over Ithica’s armor. The wood was blond, like her hair, and the crystals were all huge and gold.
Neive hurried in breathlessly hauling a large cloth bundle with the Cross coat of arms on it.
“Sorry I’m late. Found this …”
Neive opened the bundle. Inside was a gleaming suit of armor, mahogany wood studded with green crystals. The helmet had the initials “C.C.”—for “Catherine Cross”—carved on it, and it was crowned with a snarling cheetah’s head.
The others regarded the armor admiringly. Even Ithica seemed momentarily impressed; then she turned her attention to Neive.
“One day a slave, the next a squire,” she announced. “They’ll be crowning stable rats next.”
Ithica bumped past Neive on their way out the door, with the Pingintees following in a snigger-snorting clump.
Neive put Caley’s helmet on her and nodded approvingly.
“You look amazing.”
•
KIP waited for Caley outside the changing room, munching on a sandwich. Everyone else had left with the duchess.
“They’re pretty serious about the schedule here. We better catch up to the others.” Kip offered Caley his chewed-up sandwich. “Got to keep your strength up for the Equidium.”
Caley shook her head, and Kip shoved the rest of his sandwich into his armor and led her off.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” said Caley. “I only just got my armor.”
“That’s a really good kit,” said Kip. “I have this …” He gestured gloomily at his armor that was dull and full of chips and nicks. “My brothers all wore it before me. I look like an old laundry basket.”
Caley was surprised to find her armor growing tighter around her.
“Kip … what’s happening?”
Before he could answer, a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking their way. It was the giant of a man Caley had seen behind General Roon in the Council Chamber—the one who looked like a lizard had been bred with a robot and fed through a trash compactor.
“Where do you two think yer goin’?” The enormous man glared down at them with his one good eye.
“The Equidium. Sir,” replied Kip, not sounding like his usual carefree self.
“Yer not meant t’be wandering by yerselves. Things happen to people here. Bad things.”
“It’s my fault,” said Caley. “I’m new and I don’t know my way around. Mr. Gorsebrooke is taking me to the aquarium.”
“Equidium,” Kip corrected hastily.
The massive man stared down at Caley.
“I knows who y’are. Long-lost princess come home t’claim her kingdom.” He leaned in to look at her closely. His breath smelled like death. There was no other way to describe it. “On your way then, little Highness. Into the Equidium. Some of ’em who goes in don’t come out.”
He hulked off, and Caley and Kip hurried on their way.
“Who was that?” Caley asked.
“The Scabbard.”
“The Scabbard?”
“He’s in charge of security, or something. They say he’s part lizard. Been in more battles than anyone in Erinath. Supposedly killed in some of them too. Reptiles grow back limbs, so it kind of makes sense. Creepy, if you ask me.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Don’t feel too bad for him. He’s the meanest man in the kingdom. Just steer clear. I don’t think he likes you. That’s probably why your armor tightened. It does that if you’re in danger.”
Kip led the way through a vaulted hall. The walls were covered with portraits of students in armor.
“The Hall of Heroes.” Kip gazed raptly around at the portraits. “That’s Varl the Vanquisher. Captain of a three-time winning team. Most ever. And there’s Osmond the Awesome. Only won the Equidium once, but it was so, well … awesome … they didn’t even bother having it the next year because everyone was still partying.”
“Kip, what actually is the Equidium?”
“The greatest thing ever!” replied Kip, hurrying up a sloping tunnel. “The rest of the academy is OK, but this is why I really wanted to come. My brothers brag about it endlessly—they all made teams—and now it’s finally my turn. Even Dad was excited … other than telling me I should use this opportunity to take back the kingdom for the common people. I’m going to win it one day.”
“Is it like training to be a knight or something?”
“Kind of. And at the end, there’s the contest. But you have to make the team, and first-years hardly ever do. I’m the last chance for the Gorsebrookes. Imagine me winning. I’d be famous. And the family name would be restored.”
Kip paused at a pair of armored doors at the end of the tunnel and turned to Caley, his jaw set.
“I’m going to do this.”
He took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
Caley was momentarily blinded as she stepped out into the sunlight. After her eyes adjusted, she saw she was in some sort of arena, like the Colosseum. Unlike the rest of the castle, this seemed to be made of petrified gray parchment with honeycomb-shaped openings above rows of stands. It looked a bit like a gigantic open-aired hornet’s nest. In fact, she could swear she heard a faint buzzing coming from somewhere. Everyone was lined up at attention in their armor, and as Caley walked toward them with Kip, she felt a bit like a gladiator.
A seriously unprepared gladiator.
A man in military armor with a rhino-horn nose marched up to the students. Caley had seen him in the Council Chamber.
“I am Commander Pike, Master of the Equidium.” The rhino-man’s voice rumbled around the arena. “For a thousand years, on this sacred soil, each noble child of Erinath was cut from the womb of tenderness and mercy to be bathed in the blood of sacrifice and pain and born anew as Equidium competitors. Train hard, fight hard, and you will be victorious. Give in to the coward’s way and bring shame and dishonor to yourself and your family.”
Caley noticed Kip blanch a bit.
Pike turned toward an iron gate that slowly began to rise, its sharp teeth wrenching from the arena floor. The class craned their heads to try to get a glimpse of what was inside the darkened tunnel. Everyone seemed terrified and thrilled at the same time.
“What if I can’t ride one?” Lucas asked. “Dad’s already disappointed about my baest.”
“Be proud of whatever you are,” said Lidia, who was having a bit of trouble fitting her helmet over her elk horns.
“Besides, I don’t think orocs eat shrubs,” jeered Ithica.
“Kip, what’s an oroc?” Caley asked.
No sooner had she said this than she heard the sound of claws on concrete, and from out of the tunnel burst creatures beyond Caley’s wildest dreams. They looked like horse-sized prehistoric dragonflies. Their tear-shaped heads had huge multifaceted eyes and horned antennae. Their sleekly muscled bodies were covered in fine, fibrous coats in a variety of shades from foam white to onyx black, many shot through with iridescent patterns and streaks. Long, glowing fibers were arranged in a spiky line down their necks, almost li
ke a horse’s mane. Their four legs were barbed and boney, ending in clawed feet. Their torsos tapered into long tails nearly the length of their bodies ending in a variety of shapes: forked, wedged, notched, and fanned, like bird feathers. As soon as they were free of the tunnel, they each unfolded two pairs of dragon-like wings that shimmered in the sun. They lifted straight up into the air like helicopters and began circling the arena, splitting the air with their high-pitched, almost insect-sounding shrieks.
Everyone stared, some looking stunned, some looking euphoric, and others looking like they just wanted to run away and hide.
“That’s an oroc,” said Kip, gawking saucer-eyed at them.
As Caley stared at the amazing creatures swooping and swirling above her, the most powerful sensation came over her. It wasn’t fear, or awe, or anything like that. It was a feeling so strong and so deep that she would never in her life forget it. The moment she set eyes on the orocs, there was only one thing she wanted to do more than anything she had ever done before.
She wanted to ride one.
“These orocs have been domesticated, but I warn you,” Pike said, eyeing the students gravely, “an oroc is never fully tamed until it has its rider.” He hoisted a scroll and read. “Kipley Gorsebrooke.”
Kip gulped so hard it sounded like he’d swallowed his tongue. As he began to walk to the center of the arena, it looked like his knees were going to give way.
“Looks like the orocs will get an early lunch,” Ithica cackled to the Pingintees, who were trying to look brave though Caley could see their pudgy pink lips quivering.
Kip stood in the middle of the arena, squinting up through the slit in his helmet visor at the orocs.
“How do you choose one?” Caley asked Lidia.
“You don’t choose an oroc; it chooses you.”
A single oroc dove through the pack at Kip.
“Steady!” one of the O’Tooles called to Kip.
“Show no fear!” added the other O’Toole.
“Silence!” shouted Pike.
Kip didn’t move (whether out of bravery or because he was frozen stiff, it was hard to say). The oroc stopped inches from his face and hovered, its four wings beating with a sound like giant hummingbird wings. Still, Kip didn’t move, but his eyes were darting back and forth behind his visor, looking like they’d rather be anywhere other than in his head seeing this.