The headmaster sank to one knee, his staff slipping from his grip. The cloud of arrows wavered, then with a sound like glass breaking, they fell to the ground and melted against the grass. They joined the river of light spilling down the mountainside, wasted magic that the monsters took little notice of.
The Hollow Dragon didn’t slow. He reached the headmaster, halfway up the mountainside, now fallen onto his hands and knees. Then the Hollow Dragon simply glided over him, the folds and flaps of dragon skin shrouding him from view for three painful heartbeats. When the Hollow Dragon passed, the headmaster lay motionless in the grass. Autumn didn’t have to wonder whether the Hollow Dragon had taken his soul. She could see it in the headmaster’s pale face, his blinking, empty eyes that stared at nothing.
“Look.” Winter tugged at her cloak.
Autumn cried out. Inglenook’s ghost tree had caught fire. At least half the magicians who had been weaving the wall raced toward it instinctively. Now the wall was wavering.
A harp sputtered into song. Ceredwen sat on the flat, grassy lawn outside the banquet hall, strumming an old shanty. Her playing grew louder and more confident, drowning out the bells of the gwarthegs trundling up the mountain. Several magicians blinked as if awakening from a daydream. Two bards joined Ceredwen, and the music swelled. Ceredwen met Autumn’s eyes and nodded.
Autumn turned back to the Hollow Dragon. She flexed her fingers on her walking stick. They were shaking.
“Autumn,” Winter said, watching her face, “are you going to fight Cai’s brother?”
The shaking in Autumn’s fingers spread down into the rest of her. “Someone has to.”
“But the prophecy isn’t about you.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I’m the one who’s here.”
She turned and ran down the mountainside.
She darted past the magicians, who took no notice of her at first, perhaps because they didn’t, as a habit, take notice of girls in servants’ cloaks. But then they started noticing and shouting at her.
It wasn’t just the Hollow Dragon that made Autumn’s bones quake. It was striding past all those magicians. Putting herself between them and that monster, as if she was the hero. A part of her wanted to dive into the nearest gorse bush, prickles and all. She wasn’t anyone important. She was a beastkeeper.
A beastkeeper who can stop that monster, a little voice said. If that doesn’t make someone important, what does?
And so Autumn kept going, until the magicians’ voices faded into the distance. She stepped carefully into the river of magic, which rippled and frothed about her feet. It had a slower, stickier quality than water. In places it was warm—sunlight, she guessed. In others, it had the ghostly glimmer of stars.
She waded on. She came to a current of firelight, painfully hot, and sucked in her breath. Each step she took made a little splash. The drops of light floated into the air like fireflies.
The Hollow Dragon paused. She could feel him watching her. The strains of Ceredwen’s song tumbled down the mountainside, muffled and broken by the wind. Did the Hollow Dragon remember Autumn from the forest? There were deep scrapes in his decaying hide that she didn’t recall seeing before, which must have been the work of the folded dragon.
Autumn swallowed hard. She waded deeper into the river of light, to where the waves lapped against her knees. Then she planted herself between the Hollow Dragon and the magicians and didn’t move.
That’s right, she told the Hollow Dragon. You stay there.
He let out a long, slow, hot breath. Autumn tried not to flinch. The Hollow Dragon’s breath didn’t smell like an ordinary monster’s—which was about as pleasant as you’d expect, on the whole. It smelled like dry deserts inhabited by nothing but bones.
Autumn thumped her walking stick against the ground. It sent up a great mist of light.
Go back to the forest, she said. And let the headmaster go!
The Hollow Dragon cocked his huge head. Autumn could feel him pushing against her command. It was like raising her hands to a tremendous wave breaking on a beach and expecting the wave to meekly retreat. She was trying very hard not to run away.
Wherrrre, the Hollow Dragon said. At first, Autumn thought it was a moan, not a word. It was a voice like wind through a lonely mountain pass.
Wherrrre.
Nowhere, Autumn said grimly. Your brother isn’t here. Go back to the forest.
The Hollow Dragon roared. Autumn couldn’t stop herself that time—she clapped her hands over her ears. The Hollow Dragon took a great breath and blew.
A cloud of ash and fire gusted toward the school. The windows in the banquet hall and two classrooms shattered, and fire bloomed inside. People screamed, and smoke poured out of the hall.
Inglenook was burning.
Go back, Autumn cried.
But the Hollow Dragon wasn’t listening anymore. He glided up the mountainside, and Autumn heard a fresh wave of screams from the magicians behind her. A spell exploded above Autumn’s head like a firecracker, leaving her dazed. She fell onto her hands and knees amid the river of light, and it washed over her.
A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. Autumn was coughing, and starlight dripped from her nose—she’d inhaled a mouthful of it. Her throat burned.
“Winter,” she murmured.
“No,” Emys’s voice said. His face was pale and grim. He let go of her and yelled at the Hollow Dragon, Leave here at once!
The Hollow Dragon slowed. He cocked his huge head at them.
“I’m here.” Winter’s hand slipped into Autumn’s. Kyffin was right behind him. He strode forward and began shouting at the Hollow Dragon in the Speech, his commands jarring against Emys’s.
Autumn met Winter’s eyes. He nodded. She knew they were both thinking of that moment in the tower.
“Together,” Autumn murmured.
Hands linked, they faced the Hollow Dragon and cried, Back.
The Hollow Dragon shuddered. He stopped advancing and simply stared at them, the folds of his skin rippling in the wind. Another spell exploded above them, but Autumn didn’t flinch this time.
Back, she and Winter said.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” said a voice behind them.
“Gran!” Autumn cried.
“Don’t stop, girl.” Gran’s glare was fixed on the Hollow Dragon. She looked winded—as well she would, Autumn thought guiltily, for she and Winter had left Gran to hobble down from the cloud tower alone—but otherwise just as foreboding as always. Behind her was Jack, his red face a mask of terror.
“What are you doing here?” Autumn demanded.
“I heard screaming,” Jack said.
“Found him wandering around the mountainside,” Gran said. “Can’t go nowhere without stumbling across one of you moppets. Can’t any of you stay where I put you? Like cats, you are.”
The Hollow Dragon roared, and Gran slammed her walking stick into the river of light—it was gnarled and bent like Autumn’s, half-covered in green lichen. “I won’t have any of that!” she declared.
Wherrre, moaned the Hollow Dragon.
Gran looked at Autumn and Winter. “You two had the right of it. Together, now.”
Autumn took Winter’s hand again. Gran took Winter’s other hand, and Jack’s.
Go back, they said.
The command rang through Autumn and into the earth. The mountain trembled, and a golden mist rose off the river of spilled magic. The Hollow Dragon fell back a pace.
But he didn’t retreat.
“He’s stronger than before.” Gran’s voice was grim. “I see what he’s up to, the varmint. He’s put a bit of himself in all them other monsters—he’s possessing them, too, in a way. That means we’re not just fighting him—we’re fighting the lot of them.” She poked Emys and Kyffin with her stick. “Get over here, you two.”
Autumn’s brothers fell back. Emys took Autumn’s other hand, and Kyffin took his.
Back, the
Malogs said together.
The Hollow Dragon roared. Another spell exploded overhead, and Autumn chanced a look over her shoulder. The magicians had strung together another wall of light, though it had a patchy, piecemeal appearance. They stared down at the Malogs in mute astonishment. Humming dragons swirled around them, wanting to bite, to tear. But they couldn’t break through the Malogs’ command.
Autumn?
At first, Autumn thought the voice belonged to the Hollow Dragon. It sounded like him, gusty and strange. But it was coming from a place past the Hollow Dragon and to the right, almost at the tree line.
“Gran can hold him off,” Autumn whispered to Winter. “Follow me.”
Winter looked into her face and nodded once.
Autumn pulled out of Emys’s grip and ran. Emys called after them, but they didn’t stop. Autumn ran until the jagged wall of shadow that was the forest began to separate into distinct trunks. And there, in the shadow of a birch grove, was Cai.
“I’m sorry, Autumn,” he said. His eyes were red.
Autumn laughed, surprising herself. “See, that’s how I know you’re still you.”
“Don’t come closer,” he said, holding up a hand in warning. “I don’t—”
“Oh, Cai,” Autumn said. She pulled him into a fierce hug. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not scary?”
Cai hugged her back. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “After I—I went to the forest. I thought about just walking until I collapsed, and never coming back. I feel so awful about what I did.”
“You pulled Winter out of the mirror, that’s what you did,” Autumn said. “You rescued him like you rescue everybody.”
She drew back. Cai’s eyes were forest-colored again, the brown of bare willow boughs. “This is Winter,” she said. “Winter, this is Cai.”
Winter came forward uncertainly, his white hair like a beacon in the darkness. Cai’s face broke into a smile that chased the darkness away. Winter smiled back.
“I’m—” Cai began.
“Sorry,” Autumn finished. “Winter, Cai is very sorry. Okay? Cai, we don’t have time for you to spend half the night apologizing. I have to tell you something.” She exchanged a look with Winter. “We should probably sit down.”
So, as magic spilled down the mountainside and the fire in Inglenook flamed ever brighter, they sat among the birches. Autumn told Cai what Gran had told her.
When she was finished, Cai was silent.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I remember what happened now. I’ve been having strange dreams since we went into the Gentlewood. I wanted to believe that was all they were—dreams. But they’re not. I remember the magicians killing my parents. I remember it all.”
Autumn took his hand.
Cai leaned forward suddenly. “I have to leave. That’s the only way to stop the Hollow Dragon”—he swallowed—“to stop my brother from attacking Eryree. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? Me. But I don’t know how to leave. How do I step outside my body?”
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Autumn said. Her voice was so furious that Cai started. “Who says you do? You can stay here if you like—plenty of monsters live with humans. Stop thinking about what you have to do for once.”
Cai gazed at her. “I don’t know how.”
“Come on.” Autumn dragged him to his feet. “Surely you must have some idea tucked away in that messy magician’s brain of yours about how to fight the Hollow Dragon.”
Cai gazed up at the stars. “There is something,” he murmured. “But I don’t think I’m strong enough. It’s how—it’s how Headmaster Neath killed my parents.”
“You can borrow some of my strength,” Autumn said. “I’ve got lots.”
“Autumn,” Winter murmured. He had been watching their conversation in silence, and for once, Autumn couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“No.” Cai shrank back, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Borrowing another person’s strength is always dangerous,” Cai said. “And especially now, with me—being the way that I am.” He shuddered. “I can see your soul, Autumn.”
“And I suppose it looks like a ham sandwich to you,” Autumn said. “It doesn’t matter. You’d never hurt me.”
“Cai!”
A small shape came racing down the mountainside through the waving grass, clutching her skirt around her knees. “Cai!”
“Blue!” Cai exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You have to go back to the castle.”
Blue stopped. Her face was red, and her hair was coming out of its braid. She glared ferociously at Autumn and Winter. “Where did you go?” she demanded. “You were supposed to dance ‘The Ballad of Luad’ with me. Then you vanished, and now the magicians are scared of some monster.” She said it with a curl of her lip, as if she were more annoyed with the Hollow Dragon for interrupting the masque than afraid of him.
“I’m all right,” Cai said. “But you have to go back to the castle now. Go find Dad.”
She stared at him. “You seem different. What’s going on? And why do you look like you’re going somewhere?” She gave Autumn another death glare. “Are those two trying to take you away? Are they telling you to fight the monster? I don’t like it when you fight monsters. Why is it always you who has to?”
“You don’t have to worry,” Cai said. A look of determination came into his eyes as he gazed at his sister. “We’ll dance the ballad later, Blue. There’s something I have to do first.”
He looked at Autumn, and she nodded. He lifted his face to the stars again. Autumn tried to work out what he was looking at. Cai’s staff blazed brighter and brighter. It wasn’t blinding, but she was certain the magicians up at Inglenook would notice it.
The ground began to rumble.
“Cai?” Autumn said. She realized she should have asked Cai what he was planning. He didn’t reply. A filament of starlight loosed itself from Cai’s staff and circled around Autumn’s wrist. She felt a strange tug somewhere in her chest. Then, suddenly, she was very tired.
“Oh.” She wobbled a little. Winter grabbed her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
Autumn nodded. The mountain rumbled again. Light flared overhead, so bright that Autumn had a moment of confusion—was it already sunrise?
She screamed.
Whirling above them was a star. It was enormous, glittering and gleaming and white as bone. Its long tail streaked behind it as it traced a circular path around and around the mountain. Cai was rotating his staff, for the star was attached to it somehow, as if with a lasso.
His eyes met Autumn’s. She turned to Winter, and he nodded. Winter said something to Cai that Autumn couldn’t hear, and Cai touched Winter’s shoulder.
Autumn took Cai’s other hand, and they walked back to Inglenook.
“Wait!” Blue cried. “Cai, don’t!”
“It’s all right,” Winter’s voice murmured. “Stay here.” Autumn heard no more than that.
She watched Cai. “You don’t have to kill him, you know. As he’s your brother and all. You can just scare him away.”
Cai’s hand tightened on his staff. “I don’t think that’s enough.”
“Why? Because the prophecy says something different?” Autumn stamped her foot. “Cai, forget the prophecy. You know what I think? I think prophecies only come true because people believe in them. They’re like paths. If you stay on the path, you’ll get to where it wants you to go. But you don’t have to. You can go any way you want—over the moors or the mountains, or up into the clouds. Like we did, remember?”
A smile broke across Cai’s face. Like the boggart, he seemed surprised by it. To Autumn’s astonishment, he kissed her cheek.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re wiser than any magician I’ve ever met, Autumn.”
Autumn’s cheeks burned. “What nonsense” was all she could get out.
They had reac
hed the river of magic. The star was still circling the mountain, its tail so bright that it formed a ring of fire. The Hollow Dragon had closed some of the distance between him and the Malogs, but Gran hadn’t fallen back. She’d shoved the others behind her and stood there like a boulder.
The magicians up by the castle had seen Cai below. A murmur went up, and Autumn could sense the relief in it—here was their hero, blazing with light at their darkest hour. A smattering of cheers could be heard, and a few people yelled Cai’s name. The person yelling the loudest was Gawain, whose face was stricken. He seemed to be trying to break free from the magicians holding him back so he could race to his friend’s side. Winifred was one of those restraining him, her face wet with tears.
Cai looked at Autumn. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
Stop, Cai said.
The Hollow Dragon shuddered. He whipped around—a disconcerting thing, for Autumn had the sense that the thing inside the dead dragon turned before the dragon did and regarded them through the back of its head.
Cai was pale and shaky, the usual signs of an impending faint. Autumn tried to send a little more of her strength in his direction. She couldn’t tell whether it worked, but Cai kept his feet.
That’s right, Cai said to the Hollow Dragon. I’m here.
The dragon gave a strange cry, a sort of chuffing sound that reminded Autumn oddly of Choo. He drifted down the mountain, away from Gran, hesitating every few yards.
Cai? Autumn said. The Hollow Dragon was close enough now that she could feel its breath on her face. Cai stood frozen, his eyes full of shadows and waving boughs. The magicians assembled above stared down at them in awe.
“I hear it,” Cai murmured.
Autumn couldn’t stop staring at the star’s fiery path. “What?”
“The song,” Cai said. He smiled at her. In his eyes was a strange light that didn’t come from the star. “It’s beautiful.”
The thread of magic connecting Autumn to Cai snapped.
“No!” she cried. She hadn’t snapped the thread—had she?
Cai fell to his knees. Winter was there suddenly, drawing Autumn back.
“It’s all right,” Winter said.
Autumn stared at him, aghast. “Did you do that? Did you separate us?”
The School between Winter and Fairyland Page 24