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The Black Fortress

Page 54

by E. G. Foley


  Besides, Dani could not deny that, as much as everyone hated snitches, they were the ones who got the fiercest brutes in the rookery locked away where they couldn’t prey on poor people anymore.

  “Very well.” Dani nodded slowly with a gulp. “I’ll do it.”

  “Of course you will,” the Elder witch said with a hint of disapproval in her tone that a mere slip of a girl should even question the order. She studied Dani with a frown. “I realize this makes you uncomfortable, Miss O’Dell, but it is vitally important. It is in Jake’s best interest, in any case.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dani dropped her gaze, but her throat felt strained. “Still, Jake wouldn’t like me spyin’ on him. If he should ever find out, I’m not sure he will forgive me.”

  “Then you’ll have to be discreet, won’t you? Don’t tell Archie, of course.”

  “Oh, certainly not.” Everybody knew the boy genius couldn’t keep a secret. Dani furrowed her brow. “What about Isabelle, ma’am? What if she senses I’m hiding something? What should I tell her?”

  Lady Bradford shrugged. “Tell her you can’t discuss it. She’ll attribute it to secrets having to do with the Lightrider program. Let her think so; it’s easiest that way.”

  Dani nodded with a sense of unreality. Deep down, she was shocked to hear an adult instructing her to lie—especially to her friends. “And, um, Nixie?”

  “Nixie understands the need for secrecy in many things,” the Elder witch said cryptically. “Did Master Finnderool show you how to use the communication device embedded in the gauntlet?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dani glanced down at the round black piece right at the bend of her wrist. You could press a button and talk into it.

  It had been built into the Bud of Life as a safety mechanism in case any of the young Lightriders accidentally transported themselves to the middle of nowhere. Through the communication device, the stranded student could call back to Merlin Hall so the Order could then send someone to come and fetch them.

  “Use it to let me know if you see changes in my nephew, or if you see signs that he’s about to do anything…hmm, potentially catastrophic? The Davy Jones debacle comes to mind. Or the Garnock incident. Take your pick.”

  Wincing at the reminder of the many merry scrapes that Jake had led them on, Dani realized she had no choice but to cooperate, even though it still made her queasy. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lady Bradford smiled, pleased that she had secured her spy within the diplomatic party. “That is all, Miss O’Dell. You may go.”

  Dani sketched a curtsy and turned to go, but, at that moment, the parlor door burst open again.

  This time, Isabelle stormed in. “Aunt Ramona!”

  Dani saw at once that the older girl was in a rare state of fury.

  Izzy acknowledged her with a glance, but her eyes blazed as she marched past Dani to plant her hands on the edge of Lady Bradford’s writing table.

  “I can’t deal with him!” she said.

  “Good heavens, who? What on earth is the matter?”

  “I don’t want Maddox coming with us on this journey,” Izzy said flatly. “Can you please make him stay here?”

  Lady Bradford raised her pewter eyebrows. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened, he’s just—rude! He has a chip on his shoulder and a terrible attitude, even now that his mother’s back. I just know he’s going to be ugly to Janos the whole time we are away. And he isn’t nice to me!”

  Lady Bradford chuckled at this extraordinary rant from the gentlest of girls. “Not everyone is going to be nice to you all the time, darling.”

  Isabelle scowled. “Why do we even need him? We have real Guardians coming along for our security. We don’t need some grouchy boy with no manners getting in the way.”

  “Dear me,” Lady Bradford murmured. “This is most unlike you, Isabelle.”

  “Maybe I’m just too nice to everyone,” Izzy shot back, standing up tall and resting her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s time I stopped.”

  Even Dani was taken aback to hear this from the ever-virtuous unicorn Keeper. For her part, she lingered uncertainly near the door, unsure if she was supposed to leave the pair to discuss this in private or stay and attend the older girl. Perhaps Isabelle would want some moral support in standing up to her intimidating aunt like this.

  “Well?” Izzy demanded.

  “Darling, the decision has been made.” Lady Bradford shook her head. “Maddox has to go with the group. His safety has been jeopardized too. Just like the rest of you.”

  “He’s going to ruin everything! He’s just a dark cloud!”

  “Be that as it may,” Lady Bradford said, sounding almost amused, “I, for one, am glad the young Guardian will be there.”

  “Why?” Izzy huffed. “We don’t need him.”

  “Because he will help you make sure that the charming Prince Janos keeps his distance.”

  Dani’s eyes widened. It sounded like crafty old Ramona knew exactly what was going on.

  Izzy scoffed, sounding shocked and offended, but she wasn’t very convincing. She looked away to try to hide her blush. “You needn’t worry about Janos, Aunt Ramona. Hadn’t you heard? He’s not even speaking to me anymore.

  “Come on, Dani,” Isabelle grumbled, pivoting and stalking back toward the door. “Let’s go pack for this wonderful adventure. I’m sure it’s going to be great fun.”

  * * *

  Some news shook even the Elder witch. And hearing that Wyvern had raided Griffon Castle while the children were there shocked her to the core. This was her fault and she knew it.

  She should have seen it coming. But she had been deceived.

  With the girls gone, Ramona rose wearily from the chair behind the writing desk in the parlor and walked down the corridor to the lobby, where she headed upstairs to her chamber.

  Her body felt heavy and she grew more tired by the day. But the cause was not physical.

  The spiritual warfare she had been engaged in for months now was taking a toll on her. All her struggles to pull Geoffrey back toward the light seemed to be having some effect on the Dark Master, but they came at a cost.

  Even so, it wasn’t as though she could claim perfect moral purity herself.

  Just now, for example, she truly regretted pressuring poor Dani into assisting her, but she had no choice.

  To be sure, she was also officially out of favor with Richard and Claire at the moment (especially Claire). So be it.

  At least Ramona was satisfied that the strategy they had devised—staying on the move with this diplomatic mission—would help keep Jake and the other children a step ahead of the Dark Druids.

  Lifting the hem of her skirts as she marched up the grand marble staircase, Ramona still wasn’t sure how Fionnula Coralbroom had managed to penetrate the dome of protective magic she had created around the two family estates.

  It was slightly unnerving to wonder if she was losing her touch.

  Most unsettling of all was the news that Wyvern had tried to lure Jake away to the dark side this very day.

  Thankfully, her nephew’s reaction, as explained by Derek, had been reassuring to hear. He had resisted with his usual hardheadedness; he had fought back in spades.

  Still, the way before him was fraught with peril. They couldn’t be too careful. That was why Ramona had tasked Dani O’Dell with keeping an eye on him.

  Whatever happened, they could not afford to let this prophecy come true.

  It was bad enough that Ramona and her colleagues had still not managed to unmask the spy in their midst. So far, the mole continued to elude them.

  In any case, now that the practicalities of their next move had been sorted, she returned to her room to confront Zolond about this latest disturbing development.

  Closing the door to her chamber behind her, Ramona brushed off irksome worries that perhaps she shouldn’t be doing this.

  Maybe she was the problem.

  Was there some way her old beau might
be probing her mind when she went to speak with him?

  She did not doubt he had tricks up his sleeve that she had never learned. Geoffrey had always been much more devoted to the craft than she’d had any desire to be.

  Sitting down at her table, she knew, as always, to be careful around him.

  Yet a suspicion was forming in her mind that it might not be Zolond behind all this trouble after all.

  Indeed, Ramona was beginning to think it altogether possible that Wyvern might be doing this without Zolond’s knowledge or permission.

  That might be mere wishful thinking on her part, but she intended to bring this latest outrage to the Dark Master’s attention.

  Perhaps he truly didn’t know what his henchman was getting up to in his absence.

  It was time to find out.

  Resting her fingers on the crystal ball, Ramona closed her eyes. After a few deep breaths, it was a simple matter to project herself into the astral realm.

  In the next blink, she was once more walking down the white, curled pathway toward the drifting charcoal gazebo.

  “Geoffrey,” she said firmly, summoning him.

  There was no answer for a few minutes. The chimes sang softly on the air. The stars twinkled, all shapes and sizes, purples, silvers, blues.

  “Geoffrey!” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and tapping her toe. “I know you can hear me.”

  “Well,” the cheeky answer finally sounded, echoing into the astral space, “if it isn’t my old friend.”

  The man himself did not appear.

  She rolled her eyes impatiently. “A word with you, please.”

  “My, how polite! That’s a change. You must be in a mood. One moment…”

  Ramona folded her arms across her chest and paced back and forth impatiently across the runny watercolors of the gazebo. She strove to compose her thoughts, but could not help wondering how much Richard and Claire and, well, the entire Order would disapprove of her if they knew what she was doing right now.

  Enough to take her for a traitor and burn her at the stake?

  After all, the as-yet-undiscovered mole in the palace wasn’t the only one secretly talking to the enemy.

  Oh, pish, I know what I’m doing, she thought, annoyed at her own doubts.

  “Of course you do,” Zolond said almost cheerfully, appearing in a whoosh of gray smoke.

  It struck her that the smoke didn’t look quite as black as before. Hmm.

  Then she noticed with amusement that the old man was looking unusually rumpled. His striped waistcoat was unbuttoned, his shirt sleeves rolled up. “What on earth have you been doing?”

  “Oh, I was just playing fetch with my reptilians.”

  She lifted both eyebrows. “Fetch?”

  “Yes, they really enjoy it. It’s terribly amusing. They are incredibly fast. Did you know they run on all fours at top speed?”

  “I did not,” she replied, bemused.

  “They are descended from Komodo dragons.”

  “Ah.”

  “Care to sit?” He conjured two armchairs and gestured to one.

  “No.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I do. Pardon my incivility, plopping myself down in the presence of a lady, but my back hurts. These old bones, you know.”

  “Oh, believe me, I do.” She gestured to the chair as he lowered himself into it with a wince.

  “Baal’s beard, we’re ancient these days, aren’t we? What are we now, three hundred and forty?”

  “You are,” she retorted. “I’m only three-hundred thirty-three.”

  “Ha. Spring chicken.”

  They looked at each other and laughed, shaking their heads in mutual despair, or at least resignation, at the absurdity of their unnaturally long lives.

  “Honestly, I could strangle you sometimes,” she said.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” He sighed but did not need to state aloud his dread at what awaited him when death finally came. “It’s been an interesting journey, at least.”

  She harrumphed. “It would’ve been nice to have a choice.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Well, I’m here. Was there something you wanted, dear lady?”

  The moment of humor died away as Ramona stared at him.

  “Geoffrey, you must rein in your filthy Nephilim henchman. You will not believe what Wyvern’s done now.”

  “If this is about the mole, I told you, I don’t involve myself in the day-to-day running of small matters—”

  “It’s not that. This is something much more serious.”

  He stopped and stared at her. “Very well. Go on.”

  “I thought you might want to know that, earlier today, Wyvern raided Griffon Castle and tried to kidnap Jake.”

  “What?” Zolond murmured, leaning forward in his seat. His idle manner vanished.

  Ramona believed that his surprise at this news was genuine. He tried to play it cool, but his bushy gray eyebrows knitted together, and he sat up just a bit straighter.

  “Did he, indeed?” he asked uneasily.

  “He did. Zolond, this is quite beyond the pale! I know your side likes to claim that it was Jake who broke the truce by thwarting Garnock’s return, but the boy was only twelve years old! He did not understand the consequences of his actions. Wyvern, however, is a grown man and knows full well that what he did today completely obliterates the truce.”

  Her old beau stared grimly at her. “I did not order this.”

  She nodded with relief. “I thought as much. Apparently, Wyvern did not know my nephew was at home. He went there to try to raid the Everton family vault, but when he saw the boy, he seized the opportunity to try to lure him away. Yes, he nearly resorted to kidnapping! But, thankfully, he failed.”

  Zolond was silent for a moment. “Was the child hurt?”

  “No. They managed to fend him off.” Ramona had no desire to give him further details as to how. “Zolond, something must be done about Wyvern or there will be repercussions. If he goes behind your back again and succeeds in abducting my great-great nephew, it’ll put your great-great grandson in jeopardy as well. I know you don’t want that.”

  He narrowed his eyes, which had begun to smolder. “I will look into the matter.” He stood and sighed. “While the cat’s away, the mouse will play.”

  “Bring him to heel,” Ramona warned, “or our efforts to avert a war will be for naught.”

  His expression guarded, Zolond gave her a terse nod. “Thank you for this information. I will see to it. Farewell.”

  Ramona nodded back. She could feel his anger building, though he’d said little. Good, she thought. Wyvern was a powerful foe.

  But if anyone could rein in Shemrazul’s son, it was the Dark Master.

  CHAPTER 48

  Scolded

  After exiting the astral plane, Zolond sat in grim silence for a moment at the table where his black crystal ball gleamed.

  It was time to face up to certain facts. Facts he had long been trying to ignore and still didn’t feel like dealing with. Taking a holiday was all very well, but escaping one’s troubles was not so easy as merely seeking out some pleasurable new location.

  Problems had a way of following a man. Especially regrets, and his multiplied by the day.

  Ramona’s news about Wyvern was disturbing, of course, but that was not what caused a knot of cold fear to form in the pit of Zolond’s stomach as he sat there at the table, staring dully at his obsidian ball.

  After all these years, accruing untold power, there was only one thing in the world the Dark Master truly feared, and it wasn’t Wyvern. No, it was the freak’s father, and to cross the one was to cross the other.

  So be it.

  As it was, Zolond knew he had cause to worry. Shemrazul had not contacted him in ages. The infernal god he had served for so long had gone silent. And that terrified him. At least, it did when he let himself ponder it.

  Most of the time, he ignored that too. But it did not bode well. Perhaps h
e should do a sacrifice, try to curry favor…

  But the thought of slitting the throat of a living thing—some frightened, squirming bird or bleating goat or even a human being—made him grimace with distaste.

  Which only went to show the alarming extent of Ramona’s growing influence on him.

  And yet, even though his dalliance with the Elder witch would likely mean his destruction ere long, Zolond, or Geoffrey—or whoever he was these days—did not regret spending time with her ever since they had met in battle again a few months ago.

  No. It was the rest of his three hundred years that he regretted.

  In all likelihood, Shemrazul already knew about his unfaithfulness to the dark side. Recent evidence would suggest that was the case. Whenever Zolond donned the ceremonial robes of the Dark Master, for example, and offered up the required prayers and unholy offices to the Horned One, he no longer got a response.

  Instead, he was left with eerie silence and the hollow feeling that no one was listening.

  What else did he expect? He no longer truly believed. He was merely going through the motions, keeping up the charade, but the sinister heart of the Dark Master had changed.

  His rituals were empty. He’d finally lived long enough to realize he had gone the wrong way.

  But it was too late, and, sadly, he already knew he was a dead man. With a sigh, the old warlock slumped slightly in his chair. What a wretched situation. Shunned from the light, soon to be banished by the dark.

  Where will that leave me, I wonder?

  Roaming the realm of the dead, trapped in Limbo as some miserable ghost?

  He doubted it would be that easy.

  Most likely, he was in for an eternity of fiendish suffering, but it was too late to start backtracking now.

  The dark side was not known for mercy. It laughed at such pleas. It reveled in making enemies suffer, and in his heart, Zolond feared he had already become an enemy to Shemrazul.

  Ah, how he wished he could simply walk away from it all, take off the mantle of the Dark Master, and become an ordinary old man on a park bench somewhere, feeding the pigeons.

  But he was not naïve enough to hope that Shemrazul would ever allow that. No, the dark side ate its own once they ceased to be useful.

 

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