He took a step. And then another. And then another, half-open eyes keenly focused on the bull-headed creature’s face.
At the last possible moment, when it looked as if Asterion was about to raise his brow and look up, Alex leapt forward toward him.
The music stopped.
The boy’s hand grabbed at the flute, but his fingers failed him; instead, his hand knocked it away. It hit the floor with a CLANG, then skidded across the tiles, coming to rest on the tail of a stylized dolphin embedded in the floor mosaic.
Asterion jumped to his feet, upending the table and knocking Alex to one side.
“Ruffus!” Alex cried.
The bloodhound bounded toward the flute and picked it up between his teeth.
The bull-headed man turned from Alex and ran after the bloodhound. He would have reached him in a few short moments if it hadn’t been for Isis. The cat, roused from the stupor caused by the flute’s music, jumped between the Minute-Hour and the canine—who was snarling as viciously as he could manage with the flute between his teeth—and began whirling her nine tails like a pinwheel in front of them.
The sight of it seemed to mesmerize Asterion, much as the flute’s tune had mesmerized the three of them. Except it had the added effect of making the bull-headed man grow dizzy. As Alex watched, he seemed to teeter like a top as it slowed its spinning. He put both hands to his head, and then, when he could endure it no longer, collapsed to his knees and fell forward, sprawled out on the floor in front of them.
The boy stared at him, waiting for him to move.
He didn’t.
“Is he...?”
“Asleep? Yes. One of my many talents,” Isis boasted, her tails flicking this way and that.
Alex tried not to look at them.
Ruffus trotted up and dropped the flute at the boy’s feet.
Alex picked it up and studied it closely: It had been crafted in silver and decorated with diamonds. He had no idea how to play the flute—or any instrument, for that matter—but he put it to his mouth and blew even so, experimenting. Much to his surprise, the sound that emerged was sweet and melodious, and remained so as he covered the holes, one after another, and then in combination, while continuing to play.
“Be careful with that,” said Isis. “I have no desire to be hypnotized again!”
“Nor do I,” Ruffus put in.
Alex stopped playing. “Who was Pan’s third daughter, anyway?” he asked.
“Pan was the master of the woodland and its creatures,” Isis said. “His first two daughters were given in marriage to the Sun King, Apollo, and to Silenus, king of the fauns. But his third daughter, Alera, remained unmarried. One day, when she was searching for a book in her father’s study, she came upon her father’s plans for the flute, which he had drawn up but seemed to have abandoned.
“She removed the plans and took them with her, deciding then and there that she would execute them herself. When she had done so, she placed a spell upon the instrument, intending that it should attract her one true love, so that she could be married like her sisters. But the spell went awry, and instead of calling forth a high lord or noble soldier, the flute would instead entice any who might hear it.
“The first person who did so was Narcissus, who was already in love with his own beauty. Unable to reconcile his own self-love with the spell that bound him to Alera, he cast a spell of his own and transformed her into a man of his own likeness. Even this, however, failed to satisfy him, so he ridiculed Alera and refused to even call her by her name. Instead, he fashioned for her a multicolored suit and banished her to the town of Hamelin in lower Germany. There, she—or he—made a living by luring rats away from the town.
“When the mayor reneged on his agreement to pay for these services, the man who had once been Alera took his vengeance by using the pipe to lure away the village children.”
Alex shook his head. “I’ve heard that story,” he said. It made sense, except for one thing: He’d heard the story of the Minotaur, too, and it has supposedly happened hundreds of years earlier. It made no sense that Asterion should have come into possession of the flute after the Pied Piper had possessed it. Then again, he had always thought both tales were just made-up stories, so he supposed that having things out of order was no stranger than the stories being true in the first place.
“What happened to Alera?” the boy asked.
“The Piper felt such remorse for having separated the children of Hamelin from their parents, that she tossed it into the River of Time, and it washed up many hundreds of years earlier on the shores of Crete.”
That explained how time had turned around.
Isis continued: “Asterion discovered it and hid it in his coat before he was banished to the labyrinth. I had forgotten all about that part of the story until he took it out and began to play. By then, it was too late for me to keep from falling under its spell. It’s a good thing you were somehow immune to it, or you would have been roasting over a fire by now.”
“Thanks,” said Alex. He did not find that reminder the least bit comforting. “Do you think that was the River of Time—the river that we crossed before we came here?”
“It must have been,” said Ruffus. “That would explain why time is so off-kilter here.”
Alex sighed. It was bad enough not knowing where he was, but now he didn’t know when he was, either.
“But what do we do now?” he asked. “And what do we do with him?” He pointed at the bull-man.
Isis yawned and purred at the same time, creating an odd sort of humming-rumbling sound. “He’ll wake up eventually,” she said. “When he does, I’ll just put him back to sleep again. Besides, by that time, Ruffus will have found a way out. He’s always bragging that he can find anything, and as much as I enjoy teasing him, I’ve never seen him fail.” Her tone actually contained a hint of admiration.
Just a hint.
“Oh, thanks,” said Ruffus sarcastically. “You had to choose this particular time to compliment me.”
“What’s wrong with this time?” Alex asked.
“Because for once, I can’t find what I’m looking for. I just don’t see a way out.”
...
Chapter Seventeen
Tick Tock
“This way,” said Illian.
They had come quite a long way, and Elizabeth could feel everything aching from the soles of her feet all the way up her legs. She also felt the point of the spear at her back, sharp between her shoulder blades. Illian had told her they would be entering a “secure area” under heavy guard, so they would need to look convincing. She just wished they didn’t need to be this convincing.
Indeed, they had started to encounter others in the caverns, which were warmer, better lit and more spacious here. Dreqnir looked happy to be able to walk at his full height, without crouching, at long last.
Guards, all armed with spears or equipped with broadswords, passed them at regular intervals; some of them escorted prisoners, all of them nodded at Illian as they went their way.
Elizabeth wished she could turn around and look at the spearmaiden through the Spectacles of Samwell Spink one more time, just to be doubly sure she was still on their side. But each time she tried to look over her shoulder, the spear point dug more deeply into her back—even when they were alone.
Tunnels branched off in several directions, disappearing into darkness as they entered a series of catacombs. They stayed in the main passageway, which was lined with iron-barred cells, some empty, others occupied by prisoners of various shapes, sizes and species. A large polar bear prowled back and forth inside one of the larger enclosures, muttering something under his breath about the prospect of vengeance. Elizabeth wondered if he was related to the family of bears she’d met at the North Pole. Farther on, a group of several black-clad pirates huddled in another cell, apparently hatching some conspiracy. They glanced up at the three of them as they passed, taking particular note of Dreqnir, before returning to the task at hand
.
Elizabeth had decided it was best to keep the map, and Compass of the Seventh Kingdom safely hidden, alongside the Pearly Pocketwatch underneath her coat. She removed the Spectacles of Samwell Spink and placed them there, too. The four talismans were all too valuable to be kept in plain sight, and she didn’t want to take the chance of consulting them to find out whether they were on the right track.
“Turn here,” said Illian as they came to a branch in the tunnel that forked off to the right.
So, they did.
And soon they found themselves at a heavily barred gate, guarded by a pair of speared sentinels.
Illian raised the spear and shoved Elizabeth roughly forward—so roughly that she stumbled and fell to one knee.
She got up slowly.
One of the guards nodded sharply toward Illian and stepped back, opening the gate.
“So, this is the dragonspawn,” he said. “You are expected. You may pass.”
Now Elizabeth was really starting to worry. The aura around both the sentinels was dark black. But, worse than that, they seemed to have known the three of them were coming. Had she been wrong about Illian? Had the spearmaiden been telling the truth when she’d said Nigel knew where they were and what they were up to? But how could he have known?
Magic.
The voice inside her head was not her own. It was Dreqnir’s, speaking through the heart-gem. She could sense the worry in his thoughts, and this he now made explicit: We have been tricked. It’s a trap.
Elizabeth was worried he was right. But there was nothing for it now: It was too late to turn back. She braced herself for what lay ahead as she heard the iron gate clang shut behind them. They were locked in; even if Illian hadn’t lain a trap for them intentionally, they were, in fact, trapped now... unless there was another way out.
A few paces on, they came to more iron bars, laid across the opening to a very large recess in the rock.
Behind those bars stood a familiar figure.
The Dragon Queen.
Seeing her now, Elizabeth marveled anew at how perfect Lord Nigel’s disguise had been at Dragehjem. She could not tell the difference between the imposing figure that stood before her and the illusion “Father Time” had crafted. Four guards stood in front of the bars, each armed with a long, imposing spear that was pointed through the bars at the Dragon Queen.
Dreqnir roared loudly.
“Open it,” Illian commanded.
The guards complied.
She must be their superior, Dreqnir remarked in silent thought. Then, aloud, he said, “Mother, it is good to see you.”
“I wish it could have been under different circumstances,” she said.
“Indeed. But we’ve come to get you out of here.”
For the first time, Elizabeth was able to look at Illian again through the spectacles. Her aura was no longer gray or yellow, but copper. What could that mean? Worry? Inner conflict? It was something like that, she sensed, but she couldn’t be quite sure; and she didn’t know, either, what was causing it.
“Come here, my son. Let me see you,” the Dragon Queen said.
Dreqnir stepped forward, into the cage... and the Dragon Queen dealt him a mighty blow with a gigantic wing. It knocked him against the back of the cage, dazing him as his mother began to change. Slowly vanishing. Growing smaller and taking on a different form.
Again.
In her place stood Lord Nigel. Before Dreqnir could recover, the Time Master raised his staff and called forth a bolt of lightning that froze the dragon in place, unmoving.
“Close the gate!” he cried as he leapt out of the cage. As he did so, he lowered his staff, and Dreqnir lunged after him... but too late. The guards slammed the gate in his face, his head smashing hard against unyielding iron.
Nigel surveyed his work, a satisfied look on his face. “Well done!” he declared, turning to Illian with a broad smile.
Dreqnir howled in rage.
“Now we have both of them: the monarch and her heir. We have the means to bring the Dragon Home to its knees.”
Illian shot an ever-so-brief sidelong glance at Elizabeth. There was something in her eyes—apologetic, but also a hint of surprise. She hadn’t known this was coming. She hadn’t betrayed them, after all.
Elizabeth racked her brain, then it came to her: The guards they had passed in the catacombs must have alerted Nigel to their presence. But Nigel thought they had done so at Illian’s behest.
Elizabeth nodded back discretely. They still had a chance.
In a single, fluid motion like a flash of lightning, Illian raised her spear and thrust it at Lord Nigel.
But Nigel was quicker.
He vanished in a flash, then reappeared behind her and wrapped an arm around her neck.
“You thought you could trick me!” he laughed, his mad voice echoing through the chamber. “Didn’t your friend here tell you? I know everything. Past, present and every possible future. I am its author and its master. A dragon, a girl and a traitor”—he glared at Illian—“are no match for me.”
“You’re lying.” Elizabeth was surprised at how sure of this she was. It wasn’t something she had to convince herself was true. She knew it.
That was when she felt it inside her coat.
At first, she thought it was Dreqnir trying to reach her through the heart-gem, but it wasn’t that. It was something else.
Tick. Tock.
Tock. Tick.
The Pearly Pocketwatch. She’d almost forgotten she had it. It was trying to tell her something, but she had no way of knowing what. All she wished was that she could go back in time a few minutes with the knowledge she had now. She wished that more than anything.
She heard Lord Nigel shout, “Guards, seize her!” and she saw two big men advancing toward her.
But before they could reach her, everything spun away in a dizzying kaleidoscope of sound and color that seemed backward from the way it should have been. She closed her eyes tightly, lost her balance and felt herself falling to the ground, but somehow, she never hit it. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she was glancing over at Dreqnir, who somehow stood beside her.
His voice was speaking through the heart-gem. “We have been tricked. It’s a trap.”
They were back where they had been before, just inside the first gate.
Somehow, the pocketwatch had sent them back there. She wished to go back in time a few minutes, and it had granted her that wish. It had given them a second chance.
“Yes, it is a trap. I know, Elizabeth answered. Nigel is waiting for us in there, disguised as your mother. He plans to trick you into entering a cage, then trap you in there and take us all prisoner. Illian doesn’t know any of this. She’s still on our side.”
Dreqnir looked at her, puzzled. “How do you know?”
“I’ve seen it. It already happened.”
The dragon looked even more baffled.
“Trust me. I don’t have time to explain. They’re going to take us to your mother. Only it’s not her. It’s Nigel. So when he asks you to enter the cage...”
Dreqnir nodded. “Got it.”
Everything happened then just the same way it had happened before. They approached the giant cage that held what appeared to be the Dragon Queen. But Elizabeth decided to don the spectacles again this time, and saw they revealed the blackest aura she had seen around the “dragon.” She was angry at herself for having removed them the first time, because they would have revealed the truth. But at least now she had a second chance. She would have to make the most of it.
She only wished she knew what to do. She had used the Pearly Pocketwatch to reset time, without even knowing what she was doing. Somehow, the watch itself seemed to have guided her—just as the spectacles had shown her the meaning behind each aura they revealed. Perhaps the talismans would guide her again.
Even as she thought this, a question entered her head, seemingly out of nowhere: What if she could use the pocketwatch more selectively? What
if, instead of sending everyone back to where they were before, it could be focused on just one person?
And what if that person were...?
“Open it,” Illian said, just as she had before. And just as they had before, the guards complied.
She must be their superior, Dreqnir remarked, repeating the silent words he had uttered the first time. Then, aloud, he said, once again, “Mother, it is good to see you.”
Only this time, he didn’t mean it.
“I wish it could have been under different circumstances,” came the response.
“Indeed. But we’ve come to get you out of here.” Elizabeth saw a gleam in Dreqnir’s eye, a sign that he meant something altogether different than he had the first time.
“Come here, my son. Let me see you,” the false Dragon Queen said.
But this time, Dreqnir’s response was different: “No, Mother,” he replied. “You come to me. I cannot bear to see you in that cage any longer.”
The figure inside the cage hesitated, taken aback by this turn of events; then, seeing no other option, stepped forward beyond the bars.
Dreqnir stepped forward and threw his forearms and wings around “her” in a hearty embrace.
A tight embrace.
The “Dragon Queen” started to struggle, then began to shrink and change shape. But as her form got smaller, Dreqnir tightened his grip all the more, refusing to let go. Gradually, the image of Lord Nigel began to replace that of the giant dragon. Elizabeth was worried he might simply vanish, as he had before, but she heard Dreqnir’s voice through the heart-gem, saying, “He cannot perform two feats of magic at once. He cannot disappear until he regains his own true form.”
Elizabeth nodded. She knew she only had seconds to act. But in those seconds, all the time in the world was at her disposal.
She pulled out the Pearly Pocketwatch and thrust it out at arm’s length toward Nigel.
He froze.
An expression of shock seemed carved into his face as he stood there, nearly himself again except for a scaly residue of faux dragon skin that covered him from head to toe. Illian stood gawking, a similar expression on her face. One of the guards pointed his spear at Dreqnir, only to be met by a billowing flame that singed his beard and left his face black with soot. He dropped the spear and fainted. His three cohorts just stood there, unsure of what to do.
The Talismans of Time (Academy of the Lost Labyrinth Book 1) Page 15