Flight

by Jason Lethcoe

  Edward was so scared he couldn’t have answered Scruggs if he tried. “It means I shall be wiped from existence. ‘Unmade’ as it were. You see, the Jackal is a master at destroying things. And when he destroyed the Seven Bridges, he intended that they remain that way.”

  He released his grip. Edward’s body swayed a little on the thick rope. Scruggs bent down and opened the doctor’s case he’d carried with him into the room.

  “Now, it has been my experience that the best way to put a stop to a potential threat is to ‘nip it in the bud’ . . .” he drawled.

  Edward blanched as Scruggs removed a huge pair of silver shears from the medicine bag. They were the same scissors that had plagued him in his nightmares since he’d narrowly escaped Scruggs before. He knew what two snips from them could do. His wings would be severed and he would die.

  Scruggs savored the horror written on Edward’s face. He rotated the big scissors in the air, examining their polished surface and gazing at them with loving appreciation. “I’ve been waiting for this for longer than you can imagine, Edward Macleod. You’ll not get away from me this time.”

  Edward fought the panic that built inside of him and tried to think of a way to escape. He had to stay strong. He had to survive to save everyone else. Suddenly, he remembered something Tabitha had said: Specter’s Hollow is a place to face your deepest fears. Up until now, he’d been too scared to think of anything but trying to escape.

  But maybe that was the problem. Every ghost he’d seen at the carnival was running away from whatever it was that was frightening him or her. They’d been reacting exactly as the carnival had expected them to. He knew with sudden clarity that he had to do something different or this same scenario would keep playing itself over and over again.

  He looked up at Scruggs, and tried his very best not to give in to his terror.

  “Go ahead, cut ’em off!” he shouted without the slightest trace of a stutter. At Edward’s words, the entire classroom suddenly fell silent. Miss Polanski gaped. Scruggs, who was still holding the scissors in the air, stared back at Edward with a stunned expression.

  “You heard me,” Edward continued, emboldened by his actions. “I don’t care anymore. If you’re here to kill me, then kill me. It doesn’t matter, you know why?” Scruggs didn’t answer but continued to stare at Edward, looking concerned.

  “I’m not afraid of death anymore. When I lost my mother, I thought it was forever and it wasn’t. Death is just the beginning. I won’t let you or anyone else stop me from rescuing her now that I know that. And if death in the Afterlife means I’ll be sent to Specter’s Hollow, well I’m already here. I have nothing left to fear.” Edward paused, allowing his words to sink in. Scruggs was looking really uncomfortable. Edward didn’t know whether he was facing the real Whiplash Scruggs or if it was an illusion the carnival had produced to test him. But in the end, it really didn’t matter. The effect was the same. He was standing up to the person he feared most. He’d never spoken with such authority before, and never so long without a stutter. He continued speaking, staring the evil Groundling directly in the eye.

  “I’m the Bridge Builder, Scruggs. And I intend to rebuild everything your master destroyed.”

  Scruggs’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. He howled with rage and leaped at Edward with the scissors, ready to sever his wings.

  But Edward didn’t flinch. Scruggs was only an inch from his face when he and the classroom suddenly dissipated, fading away like smoke.

  The next thing Edward knew, the air around him sparkled with golden light. He felt the coils of rope around his waist dissolve and his body floating to the ground. The air around him was deliciously warm, and all of the fear he’d carried since his mother died was gone. He just felt peaceful. He looked around, unable to see anything but brightness all around him. It was wonderful.

  Then a gentle but powerful voice echoed around him, saying, “Well done, Bridge Builder.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  WORKSHOP

  The light faded and Edward found himself standing in the camp they had just left, next to a grove of oak trees. It was night, and a full moon bathed his surroundings in a soft, silver glow.

  “Edward! You made it!”

  He barely had time to register whose voice it was before Bridgette grabbed him in a fierce hug. He nearly stumbled backward under the impact.

  Then, as she stepped away, he got his first good look at her. Even in the moonlight he could tell that her dress was singed and there were burn marks on her arms.

  “What did they do to you?” he demanded, surprising himself with how angry he suddenly felt.

  “I’m okay now,” she said, forcing a smile. “But I’d rather not talk about it just yet, if that’s okay,” she added quietly. Edward nodded, respecting her privacy. Facing one’s individual fears could be a deeply personal experience.

  “Where’s Tabitha?” Edward asked, changing the subject.

  “Over here,” the Guardian’s voice came from a nearby grove of trees. She emerged, holding a skin filled with water. The Guardian’s normally perfect wings looked even more disheveled than Edward’s. Pearly feathers stuck out at odd angles and more than a few were bent, broken, or missing. Edward politely avoided staring at them, not wanting to embarrass her.

  “I was just filling these up for the trip. There’s a nice creek over there.” Tabitha gazed at Edward awkwardly for a moment. When she realized that he wasn’t going to ask her about what fear she’d faced, she smiled warmly up at him.

  “It’s good to see you made it okay, Edward.” And then, to Edward’s utter astonishment, she reached up and gave his shoulder a squeeze. It was the first time Tabitha had ever demonstrated that much affection since he’d met her.

  “You too,” he replied, smiling back.

  “Hey, your stutter’s gone!” Bridgette blurted, suddenly aware of Edward’s lack of a speech impediment.

  Edward chuckled and said, “Yeah, pretty weird, huh? I guess I left it back at Specter’s Hollow.”

  For the first time since they’d started their journey, the three of them were able to laugh.

  They decided to continue on to Melchior’s workshop right away, intent on discovering the location of Cornelius’s hidden valley. None of them really felt like sleeping and they knew they needed to keep moving to stay away from the Groundlings. Tabitha decided not to fly, feeling uncertain about the condition of her wings, so she rode in the back of the wagon.

  They traveled in a companionable silence, nobody wanting to bring up Specter’s Hollow. Tabitha preened her wings, doing the best she could to repair her feathers while Edward rode in the front next to Bridgette. The stars shone brightly overhead as the little horse plodded forward, and Edward felt that the three of them had grown much closer after experiencing such a harrowing event together.

  After several hours, the trio arrived at a long, tree-lined path that led up the side of a big hill. Through the trees Edward could make out a ring of crumbling pillars at the top of it. It reminded him of a broken crown sitting on the crest of a gigantic head.

  I can’t believe I’m really here,Edward thought. This was where his father’s story had begun. Although it had only been a few days, it seemed like an eternity since he’d sat in the cozy cottage listening to the faun tell his father’s tale.

  I hope Jack and the others made it to safety, Edward thought distractedly. He knew that Jack and Joyce meant the world to Bridgette. He could only hope that Scruggs and the other Groundlings hadn’t been interested in them.

  As they led the tired pony up the winding path to the top, he could see small globes of light flickering in the central part of the workshop.

  “Is that it?” asked Bridgette.

  “That’s it,” said Tabitha. “It’s really not much to look at anymore. Jack told us that an invasion of Groundlings destroyed it shortly after Melchior fell.”

  Edward heard familiar voices locked in an argument as they crested the top o
f the hill. Oh brother, he thought. They’re at it again. Back when he’d first met Sariel and Artemis they’d done nothing but argue, and, apparently, nothing had changed.

  Not much remained of his father’s workshop. The marble floor was cracked with shoots of grass poking up between the slabs. Broken pieces of pottery covered everything, and there wasn’t a single sign of the magnificent instruments Melchior used to make. But in spite of its weathered condition, Edward had to admit that there was something inspiring about the place.

  Sariel and Artemis were arguing in the middle of the room, oblivious to their newly arrived guests. Artemis, a bloated frog with green, leathery wings, was perched on a marble table shouting at Sariel, a white ermine. The ermine had her arms folded condescendingly.

  “You can’t tell me what to do. Melchior never said you were in charge!” Artemis shouted at her.

  “He just forgot,” said Sariel. “If he’d thought of it, he would have definitely said so.”

  Edward cleared his throat loudly. The two creatures looked up, startled.

  “Edward?” Sariel said, surprised. “Thank goodness you are all right! What are you doing here?”

  Then the ermine got her first glance of Tabitha, and her demeanor changed immediately. She grabbed her tail and started fiddling with it nervously. Artemis noticed Tabitha, too, and his eyes grew wide in alarm.

  “Hello, Guardian,” Sariel began. “I know how this must look, but we can explain our presence here. We’re not Groundlings. Our master is Melchior and he instructed us . . .”

  “I know your master,” Tabitha said coolly. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to turn you in to the Council.”

  Sariel sighed in relief. Tabitha continued, “But if you want to convince me that you aren’t Groundlings, you’ll need to do better than to sit there arguing about who is superior to whom.”

  They both looked embarrassed.

  “We’re sorry,” Artemis said. “We haven’t heard from our master in three days and we’re worried.”

  Edward stepped forward, feeling he should be the one to deliver the bad news. “My father was captured,” he said.

  Sariel sat back in a stunned silence. The toad’s leathery wings fluttered anxiously.

  “When?” Sariel finally managed to ask.

  “By who?” Artemis croaked.

  “By Whiplash Scruggs. Yesterday,” Edward said angrily. “And I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

  He gestured to the Guardian. “Tabitha has agreed to help me learn how to fly. After that, we need to find Cornelius’s Valley as soon as we can. My father said that he would have the key to enter the Jackal’s fortress.”

  Sariel nodded. “When we first returned to the Woodbine, he told us that’s where he wanted to take you.” She looked anxious. “But if Melchior was captured, then you’ll never find it.”

  “Explain,” Tabitha said curtly.

  “The only way to Cornelius’s Valley is by using one of his magical rings to show the way. Since the ring was lost when Melchior was captured, there’s no way to get there. It’s too well hidden.”

  “My father didn’t lose the ring when he was captured,” Edward said.

  He opened his palm, revealing his father’s ring. The golden band glittered in the soft glow of the lanterns.

  “How did you get it?” Sariel asked. “He would have never given it up willingly.”

  “He wanted me to have it,” Edward said. “I guess he thought I needed to learn how to use it.”

  Sariel looked more concerned than ever. “I’ve never seen Melchior without that ring. He always said it was the most precious thing he owned.”

  “How do we make it lead us to where we need to go?” Edward asked.

  Artemis answered, “The ring has a secret activation word. When it’s spoken, the ring will lead the way. But it’s a secret. Melchior never told us what it was.”

  Edward felt stumped. He glanced around the shabby workplace. Could there be some clue left behind? Would his father have written the word down somewhere he thought nobody could find it? After all, if he had been in the same situation, he would have. He wouldn’t have trusted his memory alone with something that important.

  After gazing at several discarded crates and broken pots, Edward noticed a rack in the corner filled with small tubes that looked like they were made of stone.

  “What are those?” he asked, pointing at the assorted tubes.

  Sariel and Artemis both turned in the direction he’d indicated. “Those? Those are Melchior’s private journals. We’re not supposed to touch them.”

  Edward grinned. It was worth a chance.

  “Well, he’s my father. So I give you permission. Search through them,” Edward said. “Maybe he wrote something down about Cornelius and the ring.”

  The two creatures looked dubious, but they obeyed. Edward was Melchior’s son after all. Bridgette offered to help, but Edward pulled Tabitha aside before she could join them, too. “I want to begin my training now, if it’s okay with you,” he said quietly.

  Tabitha hesitated. “It’s dark,” she said. “Are you sure you want to learn at night? It might be harder to see the ground.”

  Edward glanced skyward, gazing up through the stone pillars to the twinkling stars. The night sky looked infinite, a vast empty place to stretch his ebony wings for the first time.

  He gave Tabitha a determined look. “I know which direction I’m headed,” he said. “And if everything goes according to plan, it won’t be anywhere near the ground.”

  Chapter Twenty

  FLIGHT

  Edward balanced at a dizzying height, perched on the top of one of the stone pillars that surrounded Mr. Spines’s workshop. The ground below was completely lost in shadow and he tried to keep his legs from trembling.

  Don’t look down,he thought, trying not to imagine what would happen if he fell to the marble floor below. Normally he would be worried that such a fall would kill him, but it wasn’t death he was afraid of at the moment. The prospect of breaking every bone in his skinny body sounded really painful.

  “Determine the wind direction and lean into it,” Tabitha commanded. The Guardian was crouched on a nearby pillar, looking completely at ease. She had sung a Song of Lifting to get on top of the pillar.

  “I c-can’t,” Edward stammered. And with the stutter, he felt some of his old anxiety return. His experience at Specter’s Hollow evidently hadn’t erased his fears completely! The boy tilted sideways and barely managed to correct himself. One false move and he was history! His heart was pounding furiously. Why had he insisted on doing this?

  “Calm down,” Tabitha coaxed. “Find your center.”

  Edward tried slowing down his rapid breathing. But it was difficult, especially when he was stranded over seventy feet in the air! Stop fighting it, he told himself. Breathe!

  It didn’t help. He was still terrified. In the past if he had been this anxious, he would have pulled out his playing cards and immediately commenced building a house. How he wished he had them now! Just feeling the reassuring deck in his pocket would have helped him focus.

  Unbidden, images of his lost playing cards flashed through his mind. He’d played with them so often he knew each one by heart. The face cards in his deck had been unique, designed by a factory that had tried to compete with the Bicycle playing card company but had since gone out of business. He’d never seen a deck like it before or since. If he thought hard enough, he could picture each card clearly in his head.

  The king of spades with his golden shovel. The jack of diamonds wearing an eye patch. The queen of hearts with her trapped peacock.

  Without really thinking about it, he began assembling them in his mind, stacking one card on top of the other. His eyes lost focus as he immersed himself in the mental exercise.

  Deuce of spades on top of the king, queen, and jack. Jack and eight form a tent over them. Six of hearts leans on the deuce . . .

  To Tabitha, Edward seemed
lost in a trance. He lowered himself a little, settling into a comfortable stance. His breathing was deep and regular. Tabitha had no idea what was happening inside Edward’s mind, but the outward effect was remarkable.

  “Good,” she soothed. “That’s just where you want to be. Now, turn your head slightly to the left. Can you feel the breeze coming from the south?”

  Edward’s lips barely moved as they counted the different cards running through his mind. He seemed so lost in concentration that Tabitha wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her. But then she saw his head tilt ever so slightly to the left.

  The slight breeze intensified, ruffling Edward’s feathers and hair. Then, without being asked, Edward shifted his position on the tall column, rotating further toward the incoming breeze. Tabitha watched him carefully, noting his every move.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Now comes the hard part. You’ve got to trust your wings. You’re going to lean forward. It’s going to feel very unnatural at first, but you have to get your wings into the right position so that they can allow the breeze to travel beneath them.”

  Tabitha knew that this was where everything could fall apart. If Edward lost faith now, he could tumble from the column. She made herself ready to sing the Song of Lifting just in case. She wished she’d brought an instrument with her. It would have amplified the magic, insuring that the Song would do its work in time. Without it, she would only have a split second to get the Song out before Edward crashed onto the marble below.

  Ace of spades leans against the queen of diamonds. The queen wears her glittering tiara. The ace has a grinning skull in its center . . .

  She watched as Edward leaned forward, his thin body craning itself over the edge of the pillar. In response to the wind, his wings automatically swiveled into position, creating the shape necessary to use its lifting power.

  “Wait for it,” Tabitha cautioned. “Feel it pull you forward.”

  Edward’s lips continued to move. A beautiful card house of complex design had taken shape in his mind. His fingers twitched. He could practically feel the cards as he lifted them into place one by one.