Final Test

by Dory Perlman

  Still, neither girl said a word. The situation was much too serious for useless bickering.

  ''I guess I can't take this with me," Sheila said, slipping off her knapsack. "Dian and I will barely fit through the tunnel without extra baggage.” Trying to seem confident and careless, she dropped the bag to the ground.

  "Oh, but Sheila, won't you need to take any of your magic objects from it?" Pelu asked quickly. “In case you run into Mardock, I mean." Gracefully she bent down, picked up the knapsack, and handed it to Sheila. "I'm sure you can fit some small thing in your-pocket."

  Pelu spoke the last word in English. Pockets didn't exist in this world. Instead, people carried small, essential items in pouches that hung around their necks. When Sheila had shown Pelu the pockets in her jeans, the other warrior had been astonished—and pleased, too, at such a wonderful idea.

  Sheila took the knapsack from Pelu. Her friends believed she could take something special and powerful from that bag—something that would help her fight Mardock's magic. Only she knew the truth—she didn't really have any magic at all. Sheila stared forlornly at the tunnel and thought about going off empty-handed to face her worst enemy.

  Well, Sheila thought, some of the stuff in the backpack has helped me in the past-like the pocket minor. Quickly Sheila rummaged through the pack, looking for a little portable "magic." Working fast, she pulled out a spare pair of gym socks and a pencil case. She rummaged some more-makeup, a felt-tip pen. She decided to take the mirror. As she threw down her Spanish notebook, a small square of cardboard bearing Mookie Wilson's face came flying out from between the pages.

  Sheila snatched it up. "My lucky baseball card!" she exclaimed. It had been so long since she had thought about it, she had completely forgotten that it was there. Finding it now was a miracle. This is a good omen, thought Sheila.

  Sheila stuffed the baseball card, the little mirror and her few remaining matches into the back pocket of her cutoffs. Then she forced a grin to her lips. If she acted unafraid, maybe she would feet that way for real. "I'm ready to go," she said seriously.

  As the sky continued to lighten with the rising sun, Illyria stepped toward Sheila. "We're all very proud of you, Sheila," she said softly. “Good luck." Then she wrapped Sheila in a heartwarming hug. Sheila could practically feel the warrior queen’s strength seeping into her, making her tingle with an extra bit of bravery and courage.

  "We have faith in you," Laric said. "And what's more, I have something for you to take with you. Seemingly out of nowhere, the eagle prince produced a small golden disk. "This may look small and unimportant, but it holds some very strong magic."

  The disk felt warm and comforting in her hand. "How do I use it?" she asked. "What do I do to make it work?"

  Laric smiled faintly. "Nothing! It will know what to do by itself. It will be very useful in finding the potion. Let it lead you to the spot where you must search."

  "Thanks," she said simply as she shoved it deeply into her pocket, next to the baseball card and the mirror.

  As Sheila stepped to the tunnel's entrance, Morning Star hurried forward. Gently the unicorn nuzzled the back of Sheila's neck. I love you, too, Star, Sheila thought. And I'll see you again. I'll get out of this alive. I promise.

  Slowly she and Dian embraced each of the other unicorn warriors—Kara, Myno, Pelu, Nanine, and Lianne. Last of all, she came to Darian. She felt such a jumble of feelings saying good-bye to him. He looked into her eyes, then pulled her close and hugged her tight. "Be careful," he whispered. Sheila nodded as he released her.

  Finally it was time to go. Sheila stepped toward the passageway's entrance. Her phony smile was gone. "Okay, Dian. It's up to you and me now," she said softly.

  "Yes," Dian answered without the slightest hint of her usual bravado. Dian scrambled back into the tunnel, and Sheila followed.

  As Sheila dropped into the dank hole in the ground darkness closed over her head and she felt herself sinking, sinking, sinking, toward an unknown adventure, an unknown danger.

  The only thing she could be sure of was her own fear....

  4

  In Mardock's Chamber

  "Ooof," Sheila grunted as she hit the bottom of the tunnel with a thud. The hilt of her sword jabbed painfully into her ribs. She could feel damp earth against her bare legs.

  She felt along the dirt wall of the pitch-black tunnel. "This place is pretty narrow. It looks as though we're going to have to crawl all the way to Campora."

  "Too bad Mugdug's friends couldn't make it any wider!” Dian agreed, laughing nervously.

  "Well, here goes nothing," Sheila said as she got to her knees. Then, ignoring the wet muck beneath their legs, she and Dian began crawling toward Dynasian’s palace.

  The trip would have taken about five minutes on Morning Star's back, fifteen minutes if Sheila had been running, and a half hour at a fast walk. On hands and knees, crawling through the darkness, it took over an hour. Sheila found that her sword kept jamming into the side of the tunnel and then she would have to waste time unsticking it. Worse than that, there were places where the tunnel wasn't even wide enough to squeeze through, and they had to claw at the earth walls with their nails or use their daggers to dig.

  By the time they reached the end of the passage, the girls' knees had been rubbed raw and were beginning to swell painfully. They were covered in mud, sweat, and some unknown oozy stuff that seemed to seep out of the earth at every opportunity. They were both completely and utterly miserable. And the mission hadn't really even started yet.

  Yuck, Sheila thought, wiping off her formerly lavender tunic. Her efforts succeeded only in making the mess worse. This shirt'll never be the same again.

  Above her, Sheila realized, was the stone floor of Mardock's chamber.

  "Now we've got to get into that room," Dian said, "if we can see well enough to do it."

  "I can help with that," Sheila said. She pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out the mostly empty book of matches. In the oozing darkness of the tunnel, she wished she hadn't wasted so many of them to amaze her new friends with her "magic power.”

  As the match flared, the tunnel brightened a little. "Look!" Sheila pointed. Above their heads they could see a few stone blocks, cemented in place.

  "That mole was right when she told Laric the mortar was old and crumbly. That's lucky for us," Dian commented. She reached up and picked at it. A few bits came tumbling down.

  "Ouch!" Sheila exclaimed as the match burned down to her fingers. She let it fall to the ground, and the tunnel was once again cloaked in darkness.

  What’s the matter?" Dian asked nervously, "Why did you make the light go out?"

  "It's kind of a short-lived magic," Sheila tried to explain. "I guess we're going to have to make it without light."

  "Wait…” Sheila could hear Dian rummaging around in the dark. "Ah, here it is—a candle. It was in with the food from Dynasian's larder. I was saving it to remember last night by.

  Sheila lit the elegant, spiraled candle, and once it was burning, she pulled her dagger from her hip and started poking at the cement with its tip. She hated to do it—it was going to blunt the knife terribly, and that wouldn't be good if they ran into Mardock. Still, she did have her sword.

  Chipping away at the mortar was tedious work, and suddenly Sheila had all the time in the world to remember the dangers that lay before them. If Mardock was actually in the room when they got inside, they were sunk. The dungeon would be their fate, that along with slavery or . . . even execution.

  Don't think of that! Sheila ordered herself. She had to concentrate on something else. It was a tactic Illyria had taught her. Fill your mind with some rote, routine thoughts, and you wouldn't have time to be scared silly. The formulas from my algebra class back home, she decided. Those would certainly keep her mind occupied.

  Let's see. I know Ms. Klineberg was always talking about the quadratic formula in class, she told herself as she worked the knife into a crack in the mortar. X
equals . . . what? Sheila hadn't a clue.

  Well, I guess it doesn't realty matter, she decided. I mean, it's not the most useful thing for a warrior-woman to know. Still, she felt more than a little sad as she remembered that her father had helped her memorize the formula early in the school year. What was he doing right this moment? Sitting around the dinner table with Morn? Figuring out a new computer program at work? Thinking of her?

  It was too depressing to imagine it, so she went back to algebra. But the other formulas were just as foggy as the quadratic had been. After two months here Algebra II seemed to have evaporated almost completely from her brain. Oh, heck, she decided. The multiplication tables are much easier, and they won't remind me of Dad. One times one is one, two times one…

  By the time she had gotten to nine times nine, the floor stone was loosening. At twelve times twelve it was free!

  "Ooooff!," Sheila gasped as the weight of the huge rock sank onto her outstretched arms. It seemed impossible, but she had to hold the stone up, or she and Dian would be squashed. “Dian, help!" she whispered.

  Dian helped her ease the stone out. "Gggughhh," she groaned as it fell with a dull thud. A trickle of early morning sunlight shone thinly into the muddy tunnel.

  "Uh-oh," Sheila whispered almost inaudibly. ''This is the moment of truth. If Mardock's in there, we'd better be ready to crawl out of here, and fast. Otherwise, he'll turn us into cockroaches or something."

  The girls waited for a moment, There was no sound from the room above; it was empty.

  "Come on!" Dian said, "Let's go." But suddenly she stopped. "What's that smell?" Along with the sunlight an evil smell was seeping down into the tunnel. "Mardock must be cooking up something strange."

  "Don't think about it!" Sheila whispered. "All we need is the formula for the potion that'll save Laric and the others. The rest of Mardock's junk is his own business."

  Sheila blew out the candle. Then she reached up, grabbing the stones around the hole, and pulled herself through the opening. Dian was right behind her.

  "By the gods!" Dian exclaimed. The place was huge: a gigantic, cavernous mess.

  Piles of crumbling old books and pieces of loose parchment paper were scattered everywhere. Dried herbs hung from every available inch of ceiling space. Along one wall a long shelf held hundreds of bottles of dull colored liquids and powders. Clearly they were the very stuff of spells, the nasty potions Mardock used to bring misery to his unfortunate victims. None of the bottles were marked, so obviously Mardock knew their varied contents by heart.

  "I hope I never get the chance to find out what's in those bottles," Sheila murmured with a shiver.

  Filth caked the floor, and Sheila was hardly surprised when a rat scurried past her and Dian. Disgusted, she turned away. She wasn't afraid of the rat, there were things much more sinister to fear.

  As if to prove she wasn't afraid, Dian walked straight to a large urn and pulled off the top. As she did, something came springing out of it. "Aaag!" Dian shrieked as the thing popped into her face.

  It was a two-legged toad—its missing legs had obviously been chopped off for some evil purpose or another. Then half a slug crept out of the pot. The slug was followed by a bat with only one wing. Dian looked shaken, and though she continued looking around the chamber, she was subdued and very cautious.

  Sheila began searching the top of a long table, She opened a small gray box. Some unknown gray powder, with a foul odor, lay in the bottom. Could this be the potion? she wondered.

  Out of the corner of her eye Sheila caught sight of a bolt of shimmering golden cloth that was draped over a small stool near the tunnel. Strange, Sheila thought. The cloth's glimmering beauty seemed so out of place in the dirty, dank room. She was about to reach down to touch it when she remembered something Pelu had told her: Magicians often used such beautiful items in their wizardry. The cloth must be enchanted.

  Sheila cringed to think what horrible effect the enchantment of Mardock might have on whoever received this cloth as a "gift." She moved away from the golden bolt and continued looking around.

  Soon she noticed the huge hearth in the far corner of the room. Red-hot coals burned against the stones and a gigantic iron pot sat directly on top of them. The contents bubbled madly. That pot, Sheila thought, is the source of the stink in here. Suddenly something slithered to the top of the pot. Something alive, Sheila realized with sickening amazement. It looked like an octopus's arm. Sheila wanted to gag.

  Pushing back the desire to vomit—and a very strong urge to run away as fast as she could—Sheila turned away from the pot. She had to find the formula. But how? In the disorder of the cluttered room, the thing she sought could be anywhere. In one of those dozens of bottles. Or written down as a recipe hidden at the bottom of one of the many piles of papers. Or—Sheila shuddered at the thought—even stewing in that pot of living soup!

  As Sheila watched Dian open yet another bottle and sniff it, a horrible thought swept into her mind. If they kept messing around with those magic potions, they might end up accidentally bespelling themselves, just by spilling some of the horrid stuff on their skin.

  As Sheila stood there, bewildered, she began to feel something warm in the right back pocket of her cutoffs. "The magic talisman!" she exclaimed. "With everything we've been through so far, I completely forgot about it. Laric said it would lead us to the potion.''

  Sheila pulled out the disk and held it in her palm. As she watched, the trinket glowed white, then gradually faded to dull silver. Laric had said the disk would know what to do. Now was the time to test it.

  Slowly, nervously, Sheila stepped toward the shelf of potions. The disk glowed a faint gold. But as she continued walking toward it, the disk immediately cooled off again. She moved back in the opposite direcrion, and it increased in brightness.

  It was like a game of hot and cold. The disk shined brightly when she came closer to the potion and turned dull when she moved away from it.

  "I hope this doesn't take too long," Dian said as the glowing gold directed Sheila around the room. "The more time we spend here, the more likely we are to run into Mardock."

  Sheila didn't answer. The disk, she realized with distaste, was leading her ever closer to the awful pot of live octopus. If that was the formula, she was in trouble. The thought of filling a bottle from the huge kettle made her sick. But the disk was glowing yellow, then orange, then a full gold as she stepped toward the pot. The octopus arm thrashed within it like some kind of enchanted sea monster. Barely daring to look, Sheila thrust the disk toward the pot. It faded to a colorless gray.

  "Thank goodness!" Sheila murmured. But… where was the formula? There were no bottles of powder, no piles of writings here. Had the disk led her on a wild-goose chase? Had it wasted all that precious time for nothing?

  Suddenly the disk felt heavy. Sheila tried to let go of it, but it seemed stuck to her hand. Slowly, involuntarily, she was being drawn to the floor.

  "Unhhh," she gasped as she hit the stone. The disk went spinning out of her hand, suddenly and inexplicably released from its gluelike hold. It skittered across the floor, and Sheila chased it. She couldn't afford to lose that disk. Not now. Not when she was so close to finding the formula.

  But the disk was glowing brightly. It was impossible to lose track of. “Look!" Dian exclaimed. The disk had come to rest on a single sheet of yellowed parchment. "That's got to be the formula for the potion!" Dian gasped excitedly.

  Sheila agreed. Curiously she picked up both the parchment and the disk. The paper was covered with odd, slanting writing.

  "What does it say?" Dian burst out.

  Sheila shook her head slowly as she perused the strange writing. "I can't understand a word of it. Still, from the way the disk was glowing, this has to be it."

  "Maybe it's in some sort of code," Dian said.

  Sheila nodded. "Could be. And I bet Laric will know how to decipher it."

  "Now that we've got what we're looking for," Dian urged,
"we've got to leave. We've already been here too long.".

  “You're right. Let's get out of here," Sheila agreed. She turned toward the hole in the floor. But as she did, a faint sound made her stop in her tracks. A key was rattling in the ancient, rusted lock of the door to the room.

  Sheila's heart sank. Somebody was coming. . and there was only one person who was likely to have the key to this godforsaken place.

  Their luck had just run out. Mardock had arrived.

  5

  Death Sentence

  The entryway to the tunnel was fifty yards away from them, across the room, and it would be just seconds before Mardock appeared. In a flash, instinct took over, and the two girls were moving. Pumped by adrenalin, their legs sped them toward the hole in the floor—and safety.

  Ahead of her Sheila watched Dian slide into the tunnel. A few instants later she was doing the same. The sound of the door scraping against the floor filled the room. Sheila and Dian had made it. Except...

  Except for the gaping mouth of the tunnel. Mardock couldn't help but spot it. And if they tried to escape through the passageway, he would follow and they would lead him right to Illyria and the others! They had to hide the hole. But how? They had just seconds to act.

  Suddenly Sheila felt her hand growing warm. Laric's disk! She had been so scared, she had forgotten all about it. And now it was heating up again, practically burning in her fingers. Clearly the powerful magic piece was giving her the message that it could help her out once again.