The Black Fortress

by E. G. Foley

  Jake snorted. “Oh, believe me, Henry’s given me a list of readings I’m supposed to be doing every day.”

  “Hmm, and why do I get the feeling you haven’t been keeping up with it, ragazzo?” Constanzio asked, half hidden in a tall bookcase full of travel guides.

  “I dunno,” Jake said with a shrug, scanning the shelves. “It’s hard to concentrate with all that’s been happening.”

  “Might help to take your mind off things— Hold on!” the ghost suddenly said. “Shouldn’t you be at the session for telekinetics?”

  Jake gave him a sardonic look before venturing down another dim, narrow aisle full of musty books. “I decided not to go.”

  He had dashed off from their suite this morning with every intention of attending the orientation session for the telekinesis kids. He had his red sash and everything.

  But even as he walked toward the classroom where it was being held, his bookbag over his shoulder, Jake had seen a few girls giggling and waiting by the door for him to arrive.

  Ugh. He had seen them smiling at him last night at the party, too. But he didn’t have time for girl nonsense right now.

  And the reaction from the boys had been even more problematical.

  Word must’ve got around that his gift had gone wonky, and everyone was all aflutter about the Badgerton incident.

  The other boys didn’t seem to know whether to congratulate or mock him; the self-important Lord Badgerton wasn’t the most popular fellow.

  Still.

  “Those sessions aren’t really optional, Jake,” Constanzio said with a frown.

  Jake huffed. “Signore, I already blew up a rock giant and turned him into gravel. Those sessions are for beginners. Blimey, I could teach the class.”

  “Not so much these days,” his spectral companion murmured wryly.

  “Oh, come on!” Jake glanced at a row of cookbooks, then scowled at Constanzio. “That was only because I was upset. The skunkies threw a tomato at me! Everything will go back to normal, I’m certain, just as soon as I get my Gryphon back. Until then, I have more important things to do.”

  “If you say so, my bold young friend.”

  “Lord, this place,” Jake said under his breath, lost. “Where do they keep the— Ooh!”

  Jake spotted the head librarian hurrying past the intersection between the shelves ahead and dashed after him.

  “Excuse me!”

  House brownies were always obliging, even when they worked in libraries instead of people’s homes. Jake knew because two wonderful house brownies worked for him at his cozy Welsh estate.

  His housekeeper there, Snowdrop Fingle, did the cooking and cleaning, while her husband, Nimbus Fingle, tended the grounds and the stable. The house brownies took pride in keeping things in shipshape.

  But house brownies were always so intent on their work that it was hard keeping up with the little whirlwinds as they rushed about their chores, completing them to perfection.

  Jake raced to catch up to the brownie librarian, a four-foot-tall fellow with hairy feet, a tidy vest, and a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his blunt nose.

  The library was nearly empty this morning, so the head librarian had been trundling back and forth re-shelving books that the patrons had left lying about.

  “Pardon me, a moment of your time, please!” Jake hurried after the creature. Constanzio sped along beside him.

  Portly yet weightless, the ghost flew through the rows of tall bookshelves when Jake proved too tricky to keep up with, darting down lanes and whisking around corners.

  Trying to find his way in this dimly lit labyrinth of knowledge reminded Jake of his old days sneaking around the back alleys of the East End, trying to stay a step ahead of Constable Flanagan.

  “Oh! Hello there. May I help you?” the brownie librarian said.

  Jake nodded, skidding to a halt near the little fellow. “Yes, please. I need to find an atlas on Mesopotamia.”

  The brownie blinked. “Ancient or modern?”

  “Modern, I think.”

  “Historical, topographical, ecological, or demographic?”

  “Uh, not sure.”

  “Pfft,” said the brownie with a wave of his hairy-knuckled hand. “Follow me, my young scholar.”

  Scholar? No one had ever accused Jake of being one of those before. Especially his long-suffering tutor.

  Jake gave Constanzio a humorous look, then had to hurry to keep up as the brownie librarian pattered ahead, his callused bare feet slapping along over the cool stone floor.

  It was the only sound in the hush beneath the high, vaulted ceiling. More like an ancient cathedral with bookshelves than a plain, simple library, Jake thought. They passed shelves with grimoires and spellbooks, recipes for potions and field guides to the study of various species. There were histories of elvish kingdoms, fat tomes chronicling ancient wars…

  Jake noted these topics with interest, but bypassed them all, hurrying after the librarian. They wove through more twisting, turning aisles until they reached the reference section, where the little chap halted midway down a row.

  He pushed a wheeled ladder several feet sideways, then climbed up on it and squinted through his little round spectacles, examining the contents of a shelf near the top.

  “Hmm…yes…this one, I think…” His slightly clawed finger trailed over the spines of several huge books.

  Tilting his head back, Jake watched in wonder as the librarian, making small sounds of thought to himself, slid a very thick book off the shelf.

  Jake’s eyes widened as he saw the book was nearly half the size of the little librarian.

  “Oh, this one’s rather heavy—” The brownie pulled too hard on the tome and went toppling backward off the ladder with a shriek, the massive book clutched in his arms.

  Instinctively, Jake threw up his hands and fired out a net of energy, catching the librarian with his telekinesis.

  To his relief, it worked just fine this time. The brownie’s shriek of alarm faded as he found himself safe; Jake set him down gently on the library floor.

  “Oh—why, thank you, young man. Thought I was a goner.”

  “Not at all.” Jake quickly took the heavy book out of the little fellow’s arms. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, y-yes, I’m fine. Oh…!” The librarian suddenly studied him with a closer eye. “You’re Lord Griffon, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty,” Jake admitted.

  “I see.”

  “Probably not a good idea for him to start wondering why the notorious Lord Griffon is looking up the Mesopotamian Marshes,” Constanzio warned, not bothering to lower his voice, since the brownie could not hear him anyway.

  The opera ghost was right. The last thing Jake was supposed to be doing was research on one of the locations where the Black Fortress had most recently been seen.

  But not even Constanzio knew about the plot Jake had hatched with Maddox, who was in his room right now writing that letter to his birth father, the Prince of Kahlberg.

  The brownie librarian adjusted his spectacles, which had gone askew after his near-fall. “I say, my lord, aren’t you supposed to be at the session for telekinetics?”

  “They threw me out,” Jake lied with a sheepish smile. That, at least, the brownie could believe. “Thought I’d come here and work on the assignments that my tutor gave me until the session lets out.”

  “Hmm. Very well. Does that look like the sort of book you need?” the librarian asked, nodding at the giant tome in Jake’s arms.

  “Yes, thank you. I think I’ll peruse the shelves a bit here and see if anything else in this section looks helpful.”

  “Oooh, peruse. A fine word,” the librarian said with a smile of approval. “I’ve always been fond of a good Latinate verb. Very well, Lord Griffon! If you need anything more, just let me know.”

  “Thank you!” Jake called after him. The brownie was already pattering off to continue his tasks. Jake sent Constanzio a relieved glance. �
�That was close.”

  The cheerful ghost raised his thick black eyebrows. “Good to see your gift still works well enough when it needs to.”

  Jake nodded, then he climbed the library ladder himself and chose another two atlases to peruse: one on ancient Mesopotamia and one on the modern-day Ottoman Empire.

  Lugging all the heavy tomes he’d chosen, Jake nodded to Constanzio to follow, then found his way to one of the study tables. He could not avoid the loud bang that echoed in the quiet when he set the atlases down on the scuffed wooden table.

  He clomped his backpack onto the chair, but remained standing as he flipped the first book open. It was full of maps, but with a glance at the table of contents, he narrowed in on the region known as Mesopotamia.

  Sure enough, at the southernmost reaches of the Ottoman Empire, just above a body of water labeled the Persian Gulf, the map showed a mass of squiggly sideways lines representing a vast stretch of swampland.

  Studying it in the dim light of the library, he moved aside so the sunshine filtering in through the stained-glass window high on the nearby wall could shine down on the page.

  Fortunately, there was a column of basic information down the left side of the page. “Blast,” he mumbled as he skimmed it.

  “What’s wrong?” Constanzio asked.

  “It says the Mesopotamian Marshes cover nearly eight thousand square miles. There’s no way to pinpoint where the Black Fortress might have landed within such a huge space.”

  Constanzio drifted down to perch on the edge of the table, peering at the page. “What else does it say? Maybe we can find some clue to tell us why they went there in the first place.”

  “All right…” Jake shared the information as he skimmed. “The Marshes are fed by the Tigris and Euphrates. Those are rivers, right?”

  “Right. Some say that’s about where the Garden of Eden once existed.”

  “Oh really?”

  The ghost nodded.

  Jake made a face of surprise, then read aloud from the book: “‘The shallows that cover this vast region vary in salinity as well as depth, ranging from an average of four to six feet, up to depths of twenty-two feet measured in some places.’” He glanced curiously at his spectral companion. “So I guess the Black Fortress has no trouble landing in a few feet of water, then.”

  The ghost shrugged. “If it can land at the bottom of a burning crater, I don’t think it would have much trouble with a swamp.”

  “Good point,” Jake said, then turned the page. Instead of a map, this held other interesting tidbits. He trailed his finger over the page. “Seems hardly anybody lives there. Small population of fisherfolk known as the Marsh Arabs. Well, this is interesting—it says they build their houses out of reeds that grow on the marshes.”

  “Interesting, but probably irrelevant. What else?”

  Jake skimmed the next page. “There’s animals there—water buffalo, lions, and foxes—so I guess there must be some dry land to walk around on, too. ‘The marshlands are home to many species of fish, snakes, and birds, including the sacred ibis.’ Sacred ibis?” Jake echoed. “That could be something. Couldn’t it?”

  At that moment, the librarian came trotting toward them—finished re-shelving, it seemed.

  “The sacred ibis is frequently featured in ancient Egyptian art,” the brownie informed them, overhearing. “The bird is associated with Thoth, god of wisdom from the Egyptian pantheon. Would you like information on ancient Egypt, Lord Griffon, or perhaps on waterfowl species in general?”

  Jake sighed. “Might as well. Thank you,” he added.

  “Delighted to help.” The brownie was already whizzing off again to find more reference books.

  When Jake glanced at Constanzio, he noticed his jovial friend frowning. “I hate to say it, ragazzo, but this feels like a dead end to me. Not wrong, per se, just not…very significant.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Jake admitted, pulling the next atlas toward him. “But a false lead is better than none at all.”

  Constanzio nodded with a heartfelt look, then Jake checked the second book’s table of contents. It all felt a little pointless, but he refused to be discouraged.

  Red was counting on him. He continued reading. Onward. But he did pause to wonder what Dani was doing today…

  CHAPTER 18

  In the Maze

  The grass beneath Dani’s tightly laced half boots was still slippery with dew, the morning air as cold and clammy as her hands bunched up at her sides.

  Her heart was thumping, but she kept putting one foot after the other, her skirts swinging back and forth about her shins as she hurried to keep up with the gnome.

  She didn’t want to follow him, but it was either that or risk getting lost forever in the shifting aisles and pathways of the maze—or worse yet, skewered, maimed, or otherwise blown up by one of the labyrinth’s countless booby traps.

  Still, she wished she’d never received Gladwin’s message. To her mind, this summons to the Yew Court could only spell doom.

  All the while, the dark green hedges walled her in on either side, blocking out the cheery morning sunshine. The temperature had dropped in the shadows, and she shivered in the chill, skipping a step now and then to keep up with the gnome.

  They were fast for such small creatures.

  As he led her through the turning, twisting alleys of the maze, Dani kept her gaze fixed on him, struggling to rehearse something she might say to the Elders in her own defense.

  But how could anyone mount an argument if you didn’t even know what you’d done wrong?

  Besides, the way the gnome’s pointy red hat rocked back and forth with his short-legged gait was making her a bit dizzy. Already queasy with nerves, she redirected her attention to the birds instead, listening to their rowdy morning clamor.

  She could only hear them now, but yesterday, she had seen them: a huge flock of dark little birds had covered the treetops, massing for their migration southward in a whirring cloud of wings.

  She didn’t know what kind of birds they were. Swallows? Starlings, maybe? But listening to their boisterous cacophony, she wondered nervously what they were talking about.

  Isabelle would know. She could talk to the animals and understand their replies. But Dani, devoid of magical powers, could only guess.

  I’ll bet they’re discussing flying south for the winter.

  At the moment, Dani wished she could fly away too.

  She just hoped she didn’t start crying in front of the Elders, blubbering like a baby and begging to stay. No, she must keep hold of her composure, for such humiliation would only add insult to injury.

  It was hard to tell how many minutes had passed, let alone how far they’d actually gone in the maze, but when they turned the next corner, she spotted the Yew Court ahead.

  In the center of the maze lay a long green rectangular space, not unlike a sports field. The last time they’d come to Merlin Hall, she had seen Jake tested there in the Assessments. Nixie and Maddox, too.

  Now it was her turn.

  With a silent gulp, Dani marching slowly toward the opening in the maze.

  She hadn’t realized she had drifted to a halt until a tug on her skirts startled her out of her dread-filled daze. She looked down and saw the gnome pointing impatiently to the far end of the field.

  “I know,” she mumbled. Well, there was no point in stalling.

  She took a deep breath, mustered up all the courage she could scrounge, then smoothed her skirts, lifted her chin, and strode out calmly onto the sprawling Field of Assessment.

  Never mind that her knees were shaking.

  Ahead, through the last whorls of morning mist, she could see the Elders’ chairs arrayed in a single row on either side of the Old Father Tree.

  Not all of the chairs were occupied, thankfully, so at least they hadn’t called the entire council of Elders to deal with her.

  Her mind churned as she walked at a dirge-like pace down the field. This was her last chanc
e to think of an angle to take in pleading her case.

  Please. I know I don’t really belong here, but you can’t send me away. Even though I don’t have any magical powers, the others need me, don’t you see?

  I’m the glue. I mean, look at Archie. He might be a genius, but you need someone with common sense around here. Trust me on that.

  And Nixie? She might be a spell-casting prodigy, but when she first came along, she didn’t trust anyone. Now she’s finally started to see that we really are her friends. She’s finally started letting down her guard.

  As for Isabelle, well, you must already know how special she is. But being an empath is difficult. She can’t help taking in everyone else’s emotions around her; it overwhelms her sometimes. That’s why she needs me. I have to be here to protect her. That’s my job, and I do it well.

  And Maddox, well, I’m the only one he’ll listen to when he gets all dark and broody.

  And then, ladies and gentlemen, there’s Jake.

  A lump rose in her throat at the thought of him. She shuddered at how her darling blockhead might react if they sent her away. He was already on the edge, struggling with what he had to endure.

  Don’t do this to him. Please. He lost his parents, his Gryphon was taken, and now you’re going to send me away too, just when he needs me most?

  For his sake, not mine, I beg you, don’t do this to Jake. Not even the Dark Druids would be that cruel.

  But, of course, she didn’t dare say any of this aloud. She wasn’t that bold.

  In truth, she would’ve been too scared to utter a word as she came to stand self-consciously before the row of seated Elders in the shade of the Old Father Tree.

  She tried not to stare too much at the massive yew tree, ancient as he was, thousands of years old, with his huge trunk and soaring branches covered in soft, silver-green needles.

  But, really, it was astonishing to stand there before a living tree with a face.

  The Father Yew had bushy eyebrows of moss and kindly brown eyes as he gazed thoughtfully at Dani. His nose was a nubby knot of wood, and his lips were barky.

  As for the others, now that she was here, she saw it wasn’t all bad.