I landed on my hands and knees, coughing up mouthfuls of dust. “What’s going on?”
“Alba?” Fyrian’s voice was sharp. “What happened?”
I picked myself up, turned around, and stared into Fyrian’s concerned eyes. “I-I don’t know. The ward wasn’t solid for me.”
“Can you hear the others?”
I glanced at the panicked faces of Evolene and Niger. Each of them banged on the solid ward with their fists. “No. What are they saying?”
“Niger says to come back, and Evolene says it’s a trap.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. My hand twitched toward the ward, and I hesitated. What if it did something worse the next time I touched it? There were tales of objects, such as the Well of Despair, that could hold a person for an eternity, making them battle with their inner selves before being allowed to leave. And legends of incorporeal beings that trapped people for the purposes of stealing their bodies.
“Wait a second.” I reached into my knapsack, pulled out a piece of gravestone, and placed it on the ground. Then I pushed it to the ward with my foot.
A small hole opened up, and I dropped to my knees. “Can you hear me?”
“Come out,” said Niger. “What if this is the alchemists’ trap?”
“Both of you, stand back. Fyrian can use gravestone to break through wards.” I stretched out my foot to push the stone all the way through, but it got stuck on some kind of mesh.
I shook my head and said out loud, “Fyri, can you spit as much venom as you can onto this stone?”
“All right.”
I jogged to the side, out of range of Fyrian’s venom. The rich scent of menthol filled the air, and viscous green liquid soaked through the hole and coated the gravestone. After checking that Evolene and Niger were out of sight, I nodded at Fyrian. “Ready!”
She spat out amber flames, which spread across the base of the ward like a wall, turning incandescent white where they touched the venom. The heat of her fire seeped through the gap, the only thing staving off the chill closing in on me at being on the wrong end of an alchemists’ ward.
Fear plucked at my heart, its vibrations shaking my ribs. I wrapped my arms around my chest and exhaled. Any kind of ward that shut out a dragon, a witch and a half-ogre had to be specifically designed to trap me.
With my gaze transfixed on the block of gravestone, I willed it to expand the hole in the wards, but the flames obscured my view of Fyrian’s progress.
My last conversation with King Magnar rolled to the front of my mind. The spriggan had ordered him to bring me! That time at the border, it had recognized me as a descendent of the Forgotten King. What if it thought I was the key to releasing its master from his slumber?
“Is it working?” asked Fyrian.
I glanced down at the gravestone. It glowed as red as burning coals, but the hole in the wards hadn’t expanded. The mesh, however, had evaporated into green smoke.
“Fyri, fly back! That mesh might be dragonsbane.”
“What?” Her flames died.
“I saw green smoke.”
She flew up into the air and circled around.
Evolene and Niger rushed toward what was now a fist-sized hole. Evolene stopped and cast an enchantment on the ground, but it had no effect on widening the hole.
Niger crouched at the ward. “Wait for us here. We will bring Master Jesper.”
“Please don’t do anything rash,” said Evolene. “There might be homunculi in that hut.”
I glanced over my shoulder. The was no movement in the darkened window. It would have been less ominous if I could see King Magnar and his alchemist allies. “All right. I won’t go any further.”
Fyrian landed a few feet away from the ward. Evolene and Niger climbed on her back. She gave me a piercing stare. “Don’t listen to them. You have your Parched Sword. If you start the battle now, you’ll be able to rescue Magnar sooner.”
I waved. “Fly as quickly as you can and get Master Jesper.”
With a sharp nod, she launched herself into the sky.
As soon as they turned their backs, the ground beneath me rumbled. It was a mild vibration, but I widened my stance in case it got worse. It deepened to a quake that made my legs tremble. I splayed out my arms for balance, just before it got even worse. “What?”
There was no point in asking Fyrian to return. With the wards impregnable, my friends could do nothing to help. I tightened my stomach muscles, bracing myself for whatever would happen next. My heart pounded to the beat of the rumbling earth, and I clenched my teeth, breathing hard.
The clouds swirled faster, thickening to form a column over my side of the wards. It cast everything in darkness, and my shoulders drooped.
I glanced at the seemingly unoccupied hut and dug my heels into the ground. I wouldn’t rush inside. That’s what the alchemists wanted. I glanced at the land to the right of the structure. The last time I’d been here, there had been a shelter at the side of the hut for Fyrian. It looked like someone had dismantled it.
Hailstones the size of peas spattered from the sky. A few of them fell down the back of my jacket and melted against my skin.
“This is ridiculous!” I ducked my head, pulling the lapels of my flying jacket over my ears.
Freezing mist blew across the land, unsettling the dust. I squinted, turning my back from the wind to protect my eyes, but it went everywhere.
The earth beneath my feet cracked. I leaped aside, but the shaking earth made me slip onto my backside. The crack deepened, and I tried to pull myself upright, but the ground shook so hard, I couldn’t get my limbs to work.
Gasping, I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, away from the widening crack. Hail and dust and freezing mist battered my senses, getting into my eyes, nose, and ears.
Moments later, a smooth surface at my back told me I had reached the door of the hut. It swung open, making me fall back. The sandstone floor felt steady under my hands and feet, and I sprang upright. No sooner had I lurched for the door, than the accursed thing slammed shut, leaving me trapped.
I spun around to find King Magnar sitting at the end of the hut on a high-backed chair fashioned like a throne.
Chapter 21
Straightening to a fighting stance, I poured every ounce of hatred into my glower. King Magnar had set up his hideout as a throne room with two homunculi standing at each side clad in black, hooded cloaks. I’d dreamed of something similar—his grotesque portrait taking place on Aunt Cendrilla’s throne, and a spriggan acting as his butler, but the sight of him holding court in Mount Fornax made me want to spit fire.
This was the man responsible for locusts devastating the country, a riot among the civilian witches of the capital, and Father’s political troubles. If teaming up with a spriggan wasn’t bad enough, he’d also allied with alchemists to trick all the inhabitants of Mount Fornax into being his willing slaves. And I’d lost count of how many times he and his allies had tried to kill me.
Now he’d gotten me trapped behind an impenetrable ward, ready to be transported to the spriggan.
I balled my fists. He couldn’t be allowed to continue his atrocities. The man didn’t care who got killed to reach his goals, and if I let him continue with his plans, he would release the Forgotten King and doom us all.
“Cadet Bluford, I—”
Without thinking, I unsheathed my Parched Sword, set its blade alight and crossed the room in two leaps. “You die tonight!”
His eyes bulged. “W-wait!”
“No. Someone has to stop you before the dragons wake up and become your slaves.”
He twitched. “What are you talking about?”
“The loyalty elixir!” I waved the tip of the blade in his face.
Most people would scramble off their seats, back away with their hands raised. Or if they were brave, draw their own swords and fight. King Magnar was too arrogant to leave his makeshift throne to do any of the sort. Instead, his head hit the back of his makeshi
ft throne, and he yelped, “That isn’t of my doing!”
I held the sword’s flaming tip to his throat. “You said the same thing about the dragon eggs and look what happened.”
“B-but I explained that. This time, there are no half-truths or loopholes. I’m completely innocent in the matter!”
Waving my sword at the homunculi, I asked. “Why haven’t you ordered them to attack?”
“They aren’t mine!”
“Then why haven’t your alchemists activated them?”
He huffed. “I wouldn’t lower myself to associate with one of those rogues! Listen to me, Cadet Bluford, I’m a prisoner!”
The haunted look in his shimmering, turquoise eyes brought a surge of nausea to my throat. I couldn’t kill someone so pathetic and miserable in cold blood, no matter what he had or hadn’t done. Perhaps if he told me a transparent lie, it would rile me up enough to execute King Magnar.
I pulled back my power and lowered my sword. “Explain.”
“I’m their prisoner.”
Rolling my eyes, I raised the sword back to his throat. The idiot should have made up something better. “Why would alchemists make dragons loyal to someone they’re holding captive?”
“The loyalty is to the Savannah royal family, not to me in particular!”
“What’s the difference?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and I narrowed my eyes. He was about to say something he thought would make me angry. “The alchemists want to restore F-father to the throne.”
“But you killed him.”
He shook his head. “I-I didn’t.”
“What?” I spat. Everyone knew King Magnar as the murderous conqueror who had slain three royal families, including his own.
His lower lip trembled. “He was my father!”
“Where is he, then?”
“In the basement prison where he kept my sisters.”
Chewing the inside of my lip, I considered his words. Since returning to Mount Fornax, he hadn’t exactly told any lies. And I’d never heard any stories of King Calder’s execution. People had just assumed he’d killed his father and taken the throne but throwing him in his sisters’ confinement space made sense in a twisted way. I lowered my sword again, exhaling with what I hoped was exasperation because I certainly wasn’t feeling relieved for not needing to kill King Magnar.
“I’m sorry the dragons are sick,” he said. “One of the men who took me was the alchemist who planned to extract my sisters’ magic.”
“How many others are there?”
He raised his shoulders. “I-I’m not sure. Dozens… More than I can count, and all wearing cloaks with hoods. They don’t seem completely human… or alive. Please, will you release me now?”
“Fine, but when we get back to Mount Fornax, you’re going to—”
His eyes widened. “Look out!”
Homunculi streamed into the hut, each holding swords. I stepped back, widened my stance and readied myself to swing.
“Behind you!” he shouted.
Cold, damp hands grabbed at my wrists. I clenched my teeth and shuddered. How could I have turned my back on the pair standing at his throne? I pushed my power into both palms, setting them alight.
POP!
POP!
Fetid liquid splashed on my arms, making me shudder. A homunculus brandishing a sword like it was a whip approached. I snarled. Behind the fiend were about at least half a dozen more.
Holding my Parched Sword outstretched, I put every ounce of my power into the blade.
“What’s happening?” asked Fyrian.
“See for yourself!” I opened up our bond.
“Those things again. Where’s Magnar?”
“Behind me.”
She blew a smoky breath of relief through our bond. “Protect him.”
“I need your power. There are too many homunculi.”
“All right.” Fyrian sent a rush of heat through the bond, suffusing my veins with her dragon magic.
“Thanks.” I grinned, pushing our combined power through the blade.
The flame doubled in length, and I swung the sword at their bodies.
POP!
POP!
POP!
POP!
There were two left, and they edged to the far side of the hut. The one in front stumbled back into its companion. Lamplight eyes and a slash for a mouth morphed out of its face.
“Cadet Bluford, we have the pleasure of meeting at last,” it said.
“I can’t say the same about a coward who fights through such disgusting proxies.”
It raised both palms. “Forgive me, but you are a formidable warrior, and alas, I am not. This… proxy, as you would call it, is a mere precaution.”
“You can’t make homunculi forever. Your blood is in that liquid, isn’t it?”
The homunculus didn’t answer.
I forced what I hoped looked like a grin of triumph. “Because there are spells out there that can use a person’s objects to track them. Your homunculus fluid is all over this hut, and it’s even on my invisibility cloak. It’s only a matter of time before we track you down.”
“Not if I get to you first!” With a squelchy roar of determination, the homunculus charged.
Slashing across its belly, I jumped aside to avoid the spray of liquid. Then the other homunculus rushed at me. I rammed it through the stomach and swerved, but it dropped a flask of lime-green elixir onto the floor. I jumped back from the expected explosion, but nothing happened.
“Behind you!” bellowed King Magnar.
Vapor rose from the floor, filling my head with clouds. Rough, warm hands turned me around, and I found myself staring into a pair of prosthetic eyes made of solid gold. Where there should have been engraved pupils and irises, a combination of tiny runes and alchemical symbols were etched into the metal.
I tried pushing away, but my limbs were too heavy. My eyes drooped.
“My apologies, Cadet Bluford…” A loose hood obscured the speaker’s face, but its cultured voice and stubble indicated it was human. Likely the black-haired alchemist who activated half the homunculi. “Or should I call you Your Highness?”
Fatigue pushed its way through my limbs, doubling their weight. It even slowed my tongue. “Get. Off…”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s been nearly a decade since I’ve had the opportunity to meet an ogre-fairy hybrid in the flesh. While you aren’t the one I wanted, I think Queen Cendrilla’s son will make a nice alternative.”
I shoved at its face but only managed to disturb the alchemist’s hood. Deep grooves surrounded his golden eyes, the result of being attacked by numerous birds. He had the same receding chin and long, pointed nose as the alchemist I’d seen on the dragon quest. And he even held the same staff topped with a crystal of tiger eye.
My breath froze. “You’re…”
“Yes. I’m Henri Bacon the Second, assistant to Master Jesper.” He pushed me back toward the table, and two more homunculi lumbered into the room. One of them held a metal collar I hadn’t seen in over a decade. “Relax, while I ready the extricator.”
All the warmth seeped from my blood, leaving behind cold panic. He meant to continue what Mother had interrupted in the clearing.
“Cadet Bluford!” shouted King Magnar from the other side of the room.
“Alba, what’s happening? Why’s Magnar screaming for help?”
“Bluford!”
My mind went blank, and I couldn’t even form thoughts. Facing the alchemist in real life was ten times worse than anything I’d experienced on the dragon quest.
Cold fear sent thick storm clouds gathering over our bond, dulling our connection.
“You’ve gone cold and dark.” Fyrian’s words were muffled, and I could barely hear her through the pulse pounding in my ears. “I’m sending more power!”
The homunculi closed their clammy hands around my forearms and lifted me off the ground. My head lolled forward, chin hitting
the top of my breastbone. Fyrian’s magic trickled through the tiny gaps in my clouds, but with this elixir gas in my system, I couldn’t even muster up the energy to use it.
“Alba, wake up and save Magnar!”
My eyelids struggled to stay open, and my breaths shallowed. I had to fight this, or the alchemist would reduce me to a dried husk.
The homunculi lowered me to the table with a thud, and a whoosh of breath left my lungs, only to be replaced by smoke. I must have set something alight while fighting the first gang of homunculi. The smoke mingled with the elixir, irritating my throat. When I coughed, it brought a tiny surge of power to my lungs. Enough to give me the energy to crack my eyes open.
“Which one are you, Brendon or Robert? Hmmm?” asked Mr. Bacon.
“CADET BLUFORD!” shouted King Magnar.
I coughed again, releasing more of the elixir gas, and even more smoke filled my lungs. A little more power trickled through, and I used it to push a gap into the mental clouds.
“In a moment, the smoke and fire won’t bother you,” said Mr. Bacon. “As soon as I have your power, I’ll be better placed to help King Calder overthrow the fairy trash, discipline his wayward children, and regain his new, expanded empire.”
I swallowed hard. From the way he spoke, Mr. Bacon seemed to have an idea about how to defeat the spriggan. That knowledge might be what King Magnar needed to save his sisters. As much as I wanted to listen to the alchemist’s plans, I had to focus on saving myself.
“At least this time, there will be no flock of birds to peck out my eyes.” He shook his head. “That was a terrible business.”
One of the homunculi brought a metal collar and handed it to the alchemist.
Mr. Bacon’s eyeless features twisted into a mockery of a smile. “This is the first time I have attempted to absorb the power of a male, so I will try to make this painless.”
Grinding my teeth, I pushed Fyrian’s power into my arms. My fingertips tingled with heat, and I clenched my fists. Whatever happened, I couldn’t let that collar touch my skin. Not even for a second.
The homunculi stepped back, presumably to give their master space to absorb my energy.
“Fyri?” I pulled back the clouds from our bond, leaving it wide open.
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