The Second Siege

by Henry H. Neff

  As Max reminisced on that fateful evening, he found himself glowering ahead at Mr. Morrow. The disgraced instructor seemed to sense he was being watched and halted to peer back at them. Upon meeting Max’s gaze, he looked away and hobbled ahead to engage an elderly couple in quiet conversation. Max swallowed his disgust and walked in silence, thinking instead of the wild charges and how he belonged among them.

  They made their way across the wide clearing, guided by starlight, until they arrived at the low, forested hills that rose toward the first snow-capped peaks. They hiked along a path that had now been traveled many times, the way worn smooth by recent traffic. As they walked, however, Cooper lingered behind, muttering spells that masked their progress. In their wake, grass, rock, and soil were scattered and rearranged until the land looked wild and untouched.

  Climbing through stands of pine, the group wound its way along high ridges until they descended once again, funneled down into a hidden gorge that knifed between the mountains. The gorge was dark and at times grew so narrow they could scarcely walk four abreast. By the time they had passed through, the sky had turned a periwinkle blue and the sun’s first rays tipped the tall grass with gold. Max heard the gurgle of water and saw a broad river shimmering across a gently sloping plain. Far away, across the grasslands, loomed a wall of cliffs, carved of some dark rock. These cliffs seemed the very edge of the world, their summit lost in a gray haze that obscured the sky beyond.

  Footsore, the stragglers trudged toward the river, following Nolan across a path of low stones that lay just beneath the swift, dark water. Max marveled as the ki-rin walked across the water unimpeded, her great paws making nary a ripple as she towed the injured ogre across. Once they crossed the river, it was over a mile of trudging progress until they reached the base of the cliffs. Gazing up, Max saw openings cut into the rock face, many so high that they appeared no larger than mouse holes.

  Nolan cupped his hands and yelled up. A head peered out far above and soon a large fenced platform was lowered on a system of ropes and pulleys. They stepped onto the sturdy platform and were promptly whisked up the rock wall, climbing some two hundred feet until the pulleys ground to a halt and the platform was lowered onto a smooth rock ledge.

  Looking about, Max saw sacks of grain and bushel baskets of apples stacked next to oil paintings and bronze statuary. The people and property of Rowan had been stuffed into every nook and cranny of an enormous series of connected chambers and tunnels. Stepping off the platform, Max shouldered David’s pack and gazed in wonder at the high arches and smooth stone. Nolan departed with Mr. Morrow and the refugees, while Max, Miss Boon, and the Red Branch escorted YaYa and Bob toward the hospital.

  As they walked, Max gazed about, watching hundreds of Rowan students, faculty, and families busy as bees as they organized the spaces into storage or living quarters. In one cave, they spied people busily reassembling greenhouses whose bulbs were powered by humming generators. Max saw a familiar face overseeing the work and trotted toward Dr. Rasmussen.

  “Did you get them here?” asked Max. “My father and David?”

  “I did,” said Rasmussen, wiping a smudge of grease from his chin. “They’re safe, but it was not an easy trip for David.”

  Max thanked him and hurried across the cavern where some First Years were helping Mum, Bellagrog, and the kitchen staff as they unpacked mountains of crates containing canned and jarred foods of every description. As the convoy approached, Mum sniffed and spun on her heel, dropping a can of tuna fish. The hag blinked at Bob, who might have been a bandaged pile of masonry. With a shriek, Mum skittered over.

  “What happened to him?” she bawled, practically bowling over an Agent as she hurried to Bob’s side. YaYa came to a halt as the hag climbed about the motionless ogre, sniffing into every nook and cranny while her beady eyes inspected the more serious wounds. Mum slowly dissolved into sobs, a pitiful series of gulping wheezes, until Bob gave an irritated grumble and managed a squeeze of the hag’s finger. Mum wept with gratitude, clinging to the ogre’s massive body like a stubby starfish.

  A shadow fell across the pair as Bellagrog waddled over.

  “Oi!” she said, looking the ogre up and down. “Seen better days, eh, Bob? Shoulda kept yer nose outta trouble, I reckon, like me Nan always said. Whatchoo thinking about, anyway, love? You ain’t in no shape to be scrapping awa—”

  Bellagrog never finished the sentence.

  With a shriek, Mum launched herself at her sister, swinging wildly at the bloated hag’s protuberant nose. The pair toppled over in a snarling, scratching tangle of flowered skirts and skittering beads. When the Agents separated them, Bellagrog was bleeding from a nasty gash in her lip and Mum’s crocodile eye was swollen shut. Flushed at the apparent draw, Bellagrog shook a meaty fist at her sobbing sister.

  “I’ll kill ya for that, Bea!” she bellowed. “Sentimental gobbledygook done rotted yer brain, ye silly thing!” A fiendish hush came over her. “You just made the top of me list.”

  “Ha!” screeched Mum in a peal of mad laughter. “You been yapping away about ‘the list’ since I was a hagling. . . .”

  The two shrieked and threatened each other with an impressive array of grisly deaths until several Agents managed to gently but forcibly escort the feuding hags down separate corridors.

  Despite the ugly scene, Max felt his mind shift into an assessment of Rowan’s situation. Looking about, he felt somewhat heartened. The caves seemed almost impregnable and with all their supplies and preparations he thought they might indeed hold off an army until David was strong enough to join the fight. Max harbored no illusions regarding Rowan’s chances—everything hinged on David Menlo and the Book of Thoth. As YaYa dragged Bob’s litter onward, Max hurried after, anxious to see his friend.

  They passed several caves with many tents and resting families until they came upon a vast cavern that had been converted into a sort of hospital. Moomenhovens scurried about, hovering over patients who were arranged in neat rows of cots. Against the far wall, Max saw his father sitting by David’s bedside. Max, Cooper, and Miss Boon crept up, so as not to disturb David. Mr. McDaniels turned at their approach and stood to greet them, practically engulfing Max in a bear hug.

  “How are you?” whispered Max.

  “Snug as a bug in a . . . cave, I suppose,” replied his father.

  Max looked at his roommate, who lay on the cot. A bit of color had returned to David’s face in the weeks since he’d been stabbed, but he still did not look well. Max stood by his friend’s side for several moments, but David did not stir.

  “I’ll check back,” he said at last, his gaze lingering on the wrap that covered David’s ugly wound. Miss Boon nodded and kissed Max on the forehead before pulling up a chair next to Mr. McDaniels. His Mystics instructor had held up well since Ms. Richter had fallen, but now Max saw the event etched in the young woman’s face. Taking a seat by David, she stared off into space, murmuring thanks when Cooper draped a blanket over her shoulders.

  “This is particularly hard on her,” said Cooper once he’d ushered Max away. The pair continued on, walking past more tents and cooking fires in long strides. “She idolized the Director, as I’m sure you know....”

  Cooper trailed off, his hard eyes staring at Max’s training knife.

  “I’d meant to ask you earlier,” grunted the Agent. “Where is the gae bolga?”

  Max had been dreading the question and almost winced as he replied.

  “Here,” said Max, shaking David’s pack. “In a hundred little pieces. It broke in the Sidh, Cooper. The training knives are all I’ve got.”

  “That won’t do,” said Cooper, frowning as they followed the sound of hushed voices. They arrived at a cave, dark but for a cluster of lanterns at its center. Max saw the senior faculty, including Miss Awolowo and Miss Kraken, in quiet conversation. Several members of the Red Branch had already arrived, but Max looked past them to a shadowy corner where Yuri Vilyak dabbed gingerly at a bandage on his s
calp. He nodded in greeting, but Max did not acknowledge him.

  “If you’re here to finish this coward, you’ll have to wait,” said Miss Kraken, gesturing for Max and Cooper to sit. She narrowed her eyes and offered Vilyak a scornful look. “It’s a pity YaYa isn’t a bit younger.”

  Vilyak shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

  “I’ve already said I believed the others lost—there was nothing else I could do,” he muttered.

  “A leader does not leave his people behind, Commander Vilyak!” erupted Miss Awolowo. “A leader does not bolt the door and leave his comrades to the Enemy!”

  “Any verdict regarding Yuri Vilyak will have to wait,” said Miss Kraken decisively. “We have other matters to discuss. It is my view that we cannot simply hide,” she said. “We must seek to distract and delay them however we can until better options present themselves. We must send the Red Branch out to meet them.”

  “We already sent the Promethean Scholars,” muttered Vilyak, earning a furious glare from Miss Kraken. The man raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. “You did not see the invading force, Annika. I did. And I tell you it would be folly to meet them in the open. Better to defend a strong place until David Menlo heals and can spirit us away or hide us again using the Old Magic. Until then, the Red Branch is needed here.”

  “You don’t speak for the Red Branch,” said Cooper. “I do.”

  “Nonsense,” said Vilyak. “I never relinquished command. It’s mine unless I’m—”

  Vilyak went silent as Cooper drew his knife, testing its weight in his hand.

  “We can honor the ritual if you like,” said Cooper. “But we both know the outcome.”

  For long seconds, silence filled the chamber. Finally Miss Kraken spoke.

  “Cooper, we don’t have time for this,” she muttered.

  “It’ll be over quick, Miss Kraken,” replied Cooper, his voice taut as wire. “I promise.”

  Miss Kraken turned to Vilyak, who fidgeted uncomfortably while he searched Cooper’s unblinking face. With a sudden cough, he dismissed a potential duel, affecting a good-natured laugh.

  “Annika is right,” he said. “This is a time for decisions, not misunderstandings and infighting. You take command, Cooper. After all, I’m hardly fit with this unfortunate wound. We can revisit that issue later. . . .”

  “Fine,” snapped Miss Kraken with brisk authority. The old woman’s eyes turned toward Max and her voice softened. “Max, I think you know where our hopes lie. . . .”

  Max nodded, feeling all the eyes turn to him as Miss Kraken continued.

  “When he returned, David Menlo shared some of his adventures in the Sidh. He said he could understand the Book; he claimed that he could use it. Is this true, Max?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The gate cannot hold and we cannot hide forever,” said Miss Kraken, her keen eyes searching his face. “The Enemy is coming. Our only hope lies with David and the Book of Thoth. We have David, and the Moomenhovens say he is healing. We must know whether we have the Book.”

  The question was pointed, and Max was aware that Miss Kraken already knew the answer. He glanced at Cooper and the tall Agent nodded. Slinging David’s battered satchel off his shoulder, Max retrieved the golden Book and held it to his chest.

  “It goes to David,” said Max. “Only David. Do I have your word, Miss Kraken?”

  “You do, my child,” said the old Mystic, offering a solemn bow. “I understand your misgivings—you have seen Rowan betray her own. We must learn to trust again. Let it begin with me.”

  Max crossed the chamber and placed the Book of Thoth in the old woman’s hands. She did not even glance at its exquisite cover but promptly wrapped it in the folds of her shawl. Vilyak grunted.

  “So we have it,” he said. “But how will we keep the wolves from our door, Annika?”

  “I will,” said Max. “I’ll keep them away until David is strong enough.”

  “And how do you intend to do that, my boy?” snapped Vilyak.

  Pride quickened the Old Magic in Max’s blood. His fingers twitched and the leviathan within him began to stir once again. He glanced at Vilyak and thought how small and weak the man looked, propped as he was against the wall, nursing his wound. Max controlled his impulse and swallowed.

  “I’ll do it with fear,” he said quietly. “The Enemy will fear to venture beyond the clearing.”

  Vilyak laughed with disbelief.

  “Ah, the exuberance of youth!” he said. “Where does it go?”

  Several members of the Red Branch smiled, but Cooper did not. Miss Kraken turned to him.

  “You have seen the army and you know this boy,” said Miss Kraken. “What is your counsel?”

  Cooper’s taut, shiny face stared at the ground in patient repose. He closed his eyes and spoke only after long seconds had passed.

  “Max and I will meet the Enemy in the Sanctuary and delay them as best we can.”

  “And why is that your counsel, William?” asked Miss Kraken, ignoring Vilyak’s muttering.

  “Because I’ve never seen anything like Max before,” replied the Agent. “And neither have they.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Max and Cooper stood among the treasures of the Red Branch vault. The vault’s contents had been moved from their splendid chamber within the Archives to a small, dim alcove far removed from the caverns’ main passages. While Max surveyed his options, Cooper reclaimed his gruesome-looking kris and took up a shirt of black nanomail from where it lay draped over an oaken chest.

  Max found that many of the weapons were storied but ancient and unwieldy. He frowned as he hefted Joyeuse, Charlemagne’s sword, and Durandel, which had been Roland’s. The swords were indeed fearsome, but too slow and heavy for Max’s purpose. Finally, he stopped at a gleaming gladius with a black-ridged hilt and a short, razor-edged blade. Max hefted the short sword, testing its weight and balance.

  “That belonged to Flamma,” grunted Cooper, pulling the nanomail over his torso and tucking his wisps of blond hair back into his cap. “He was Rome’s greatest gladiator. That blade was the emperor’s own, till it was given to Flamma to honor him after a string of victories.”

  “This will do,” said Max, sheathing the sword in its black scabbard.

  Max heard a shuffling sound behind them and turned to see Lucia, Cynthia, and Sarah peering at them from the dark corridor. Cooper shone his lantern upon the trio, and Lucia scowled.

  “We heard you came back,” offered Sarah, rubbing her arms for warmth as she ventured into the cool alcove. She gave Cooper a wary glance, but the Agent said nothing. Sarah looked long and hard at the gladius in Max’s hand. “Are you going off, then?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Max, looking down. “I am.”

  “I see,” said Sarah. “Have you told your father?”

  “I can’t,” said Max, refusing to meet her gaze. “He won’t understand.”

  “Max,” said Cooper, “we must go.”

  Max nodded but reached forward to give Sarah’s hand a fierce squeeze.

  “Will you tell him for me?” pleaded Max. “I’d rather he hear it from you.”

  Sarah hugged him close, her voice barely a whisper in his ear.

  “I will,” she said. “Nick, too. And we’ll see you when you get back.”

  Max and Cooper left the alcove and quickly made their way to the platform, whose pulleys and ropes lowered them slowly to the ground. As they descended, Max gazed across the plain at the slender gorge carved within the mountains. Beyond those peaks, an oily smoke rose lazily into the sky before it broke apart and drifted on the wind. Cooper said nothing, but the Agent set a swift pace as soon as the platform touched ground.

  21

  BARK, BRANCH, AND STONE

  Max scratched at his face and hands, which had been caked with a mash of mud and pine needles to camouflage him against the senses of his enemy. Cooper motioned for him to stop.

  “I k
now it itches,” the Agent said. “Leave it be.”

  “They didn’t bring anything modern,” said Max, scanning the assembled army. “No guns, no tanks . . .”

  “The Demon needs no such toys for little Rowan,” muttered Cooper.

  “It’s more than that,” whispered Max, thinking aloud. “I spoke with him in the Sidh—he doesn’t approve of the modern world. I think he wants to turn back time.”

  “Good for him,” said Cooper. “Coming here without guns and tanks. Shows dash.”

  Max grinned at the Agent’s black humor as he watched small groups of dark shapes creep from the warmth of the campfires to head off in all directions—just as Cooper had predicted.

  “There are our scouts,” muttered Cooper. “Remember, Max—absolute silence. And, whatever happens, do not lead them toward the gorge. Direct any pursuit toward the dunes or the western range.”

  Max nodded, and the two dropped silently from the tree. They padded off through the forest, a pair of twilight shadows that stole quickly toward their quarry. Twenty minutes later, they intercepted their first patrol—five vyes and a bottle-nosed imp that crept along an old path. Max slipped the blackened gladius from its sheath.

  There was a soft thump, a choked-off gurgle, and then silence. Max had dispatched the Enemy so quickly that he had not even frightened a nearby nest of sparrows into flight. One peered at him curiously while Max wiped the gladius clean on the matted fur of a stiffening vye. Cooper crouched nearby and set to work on the unpleasant task before them.

  Minutes later, Max surveyed the six grisly bodies piled near the edge of the clearing. Cooper had propped them against a tree, taking care that the shock and horror frozen on their faces was made apparent to any passersby. Cutting a thick branch from the tree, Max carved in the wood the ancient Ogam runes he had learned from Scathach. The runes were a series of cryptic slashes, and Max knew they would be taken directly to Astaroth.

  Be wary, those who walk these woods. The Hound of Rowan walks them, too.