The Magician's Key

by Matthew Cody

  There wasn’t time for Max to get her bearings, so she just chose a direction and dashed through narrow streets lined with leaning shacks and wide-eyed elflings. Several of them pointed at her as she passed by—apparently, word of the pink-haired human girl was spreading—but even more began to notice Vodnik. There were gasps of recognition as the magician pushed his way through the milling crowds, but if he was aware of them, he didn’t care. All his spite was focused on Max.

  Soon Max found a landmark she recognized, and she reached old Hillbeater just as Vodnik was gaining on her. Unfortunately, she didn’t see her friends anywhere, and the great stone statue offered little protection from the magician and certainly no place to hide.

  Max put her back against one of the statue’s thick legs and turned to face her pursuer. Vodnik snatched her by the arm with one hand but left his knife hand hidden in his coat.

  “I have a jar in my pocket,” he growled. “Fight me and I’ll slit your throat and steal your soul right here.”

  Vodnik’s crazed eyes bored into Max, but what he did not see was the mob who’d followed them. There were still fearful faces among them, but the fear was turning to anger. As the elflings and trollsons crowded around, Max heard mutterings of “Vodnik…Vodnik…”

  Finally, Vodnik heard it, too, and he glanced over his shoulder at the mob. A look of concern flashed over his face as he counted their number, but then he bared his teeth and brandished his knife, and the mob hesitated. He twisted Max by the arm and pulled her close but kept his blade leveled at the crowd.

  “What is this?” said Vodnik. “You mixed-blood Bordertowners trying to show some spine? Think you’re tougher than old Vodnik?”

  A few of the bolder ones actually nodded. That was exactly what they were thinking. Meanwhile, at the back of the crowd, Max saw Geldorf’s mossy head poking up above the rest and Harold and Mrs. Amsel pushing their way toward the front.

  “I am here for this human girl,” said Vodnik. “By your own rules, she doesn’t belong here anyway.” Still, the crowd edged forward, like the tide threatening to overturn a jetty of rocks.

  The magician’s eyes darted this way and that, searching for an avenue of escape even as he sneered at the mob. “You dare threaten Vodnik? Which one of you will be first? I’ll cut your throat and jar your soul for my collection!”

  The magician was in an even greater fury now, and he actually took a threatening step toward the crowd, causing them to retreat a few feet. “I am Vodnik the magician!” he shouted. “Who wants to stop me? I’ll bleed the whole lot of you dry if I have to!”

  No one came forward to answer his challenge. Geldorf’s face was a battle between hate and worry, but Harold held the mighty trollson back. Max’s friends were afraid for her, afraid what Vodnik might do to her if the mob attacked.

  “No one!” roared the magician. “No one can dare challenge me. Now let me pass!”

  Reluctantly, the crowd started to break; even as they cursed the magician’s name, they opened a path for him. Vodnik had just started to shove Max forward when she heard the sound of grinding stone from somewhere behind them. It was subtle at first but quickly amplified until the cavern echoed with it like an avalanche of rock.

  Vodnik turned back, and what he saw made him falter for just a second. Max didn’t hesitate. She shoved with all her might and broke the magician’s grip on her arm, throwing herself clear in the process. She landed hard on the rocky ground and rolled onto her back just in time to see a massive stone foot lifted high above Vodnik’s head.

  Hillbeater the sleeping stone trollson had awakened, and he wasn’t afraid of Vodnik’s puny knife. Harold and Mrs. Amsel acted fast and grabbed Max by her arms, dragging her clear. Vodnik screamed a hateful cry just as Hillbeater brought his enormous foot down, silencing the magician forever.

  Hillbeater didn’t move from that spot. Slowly, and with a loud rumble of rocks grinding, he sat down right where he was, and went back to sleep. In minutes, he was just a new hunk of stone, a statue that marked the magician’s unfortunate grave. The crowd didn’t cheer. Most stood there dumbly, unsure 0f what to say or do next, until finally Geldorf broke the silence.

  “I’d say old Hillbeater looks better there anyway.” Then the trollson let out a mighty laugh as he slapped his fellows on the back.

  Harold and Mrs. Amsel helped Max to her feet. “Are you all right, dear?” asked Mrs. Amsel, fussing over Max and offering her a handkerchief.

  “I’m fine,” said Max. Vodnik was gone, but if she’d been just a second slower in getting out of the way…She looked back at the sleeping statue and shuddered. Best not to think about it.

  She quickly checked her backpack to make sure the jars were intact. She felt her own horror start to melt away when she saw her friends’ concerned faces. “I’m really okay. Really. In fact, I think I’m kind of great.” She broke into a huge grin.

  Mrs. Amsel and Harold shared a dubious look. “You sure you didn’t bump your head, meine Liebe?”

  “We need to get everyone together,” said Max. “The elflings, the trollsons and giant daughters—everyone. Tell Geldorf to put the word out to everyone in Bordertown.”

  “What word?” asked Harold. “What do you want us to tell them?”

  Max took the little brass key out of her pocket and looked at it for a moment, then she turned her palm over and let the key fall to the ground with a tiny clatter.

  “Tell them to meet us at the door,” she said. “Tell them to pack their things because we’re all leaving Bordertown….Tell them I’ve finally found the key.”

  New Hamelin was falling. With each impact, the ogres’ battering ram opened new rents in the thick gate as the wood splintered and buckled at the seams. It wouldn’t be long now. Lukas paced in front of the barricade, shouting orders to shore up this section of the gate or add a few more fighters to that stretch of wall. Meanwhile, the boys and girls chose their shots carefully as they tried to conserve their dwindling supply of arrows.

  Lukas would not think about Paul. He would not think about what the witch had done or his own mistake in letting her believe Carter was still with them. If he’d just told her the truth the other day…

  No, he would not think on it. He could not. If they survived this night, he would hand the Sword of the Eldest Boy over to Finn for good. Lukas had never wanted the responsibility, and tonight he had proved he didn’t deserve it. For the time being, it was still his, but the sword felt heavier than ever before in his hand.

  He made a dash for the gate as he spotted an evil-looking rat squeezing through one of the gaps the ogres had made. Though probably a head taller than Lukas, the creature managed to contort its body just enough to make it through the narrow opening. Like many of the rats they’d fought, this one carried a weapon—a twisted dagger. These rats fought tooth and knife.

  The creature hissed in warning and raised its blade as Lukas closed on it. He was vaguely aware of the archers on the wall above shouting for him to move out of the way, but he ignored them. With a cry, Lukas swung his sword wildly at the rat’s head. Had the creature been at all practiced with its knife, it could have stabbed Lukas in the heart before the boy had a chance to finish his swing. But the rat hesitated, and Lukas’s sword struck home. The rat fell over dead at Lukas’s feet.

  Within seconds, two middle boys came running to the gate with a wooden plank, which they began hammering over the open gap. For a moment, the ramming outside stopped as the ogres started arguing among themselves again. That was a blessing, because that new plank wouldn’t withstand another attack. The gate was being held together by splinters and luck.

  Lukas turned as someone shouted his name. Emilie had climbed down from the barricade. She looked red-faced and furious. She’d also been crying.

  “What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Killing a rat that made it through the gate.”

  “That’s what the girls up top are for! Any one of them woul
d’ve had a clear aim if you hadn’t charged into their way. You very nearly got yourself killed for nothing.”

  “I wasn’t in any danger.”

  “I saw the way you charged at it,” said Emilie. “You were like a little boy trying to swat a fly with a broom. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

  Lukas glowered at her. “Get back behind the barricade and let me handle—”

  Emilie cut off Lukas’s sentence with a slap to his face. A hard one.

  “Just because Paul is dead, I will not let you toss your life away!” She grabbed Lukas by the collar. He could see the strain on her face, the barely suppressed tears. She was like that gate—still holding together, despite the damage. “We don’t matter, Lukas. Emilie and Lukas don’t matter tonight, but these children need the Eldest Girl and the Eldest Boy!”

  Lukas wanted to argue. He wanted to shout and curse and slap Emilie right back, because she was right. A knot of shame stuck in his throat, and he didn’t have the words to respond, so he simply nodded.

  Emilie called the boys away from the gate area where they’d finished patching the hole and ordered everyone back behind the barricade. The ogres had stopped their arguing, and the fighters on the wall were desperately letting fly the very last of their arrows as the beasts readied their final attack.

  Lukas helped Emilie scramble back over the top of the barricade, and turned to look at the frightened faces of the boys and girls beside him. There were a few older boys of the Watch who’d been called off the walls when it became clear that the attackers were focused on the front gate. But most here were middles, boys and girls who’d never seen fighting up close. On true nights like this, they normally stayed huddled safely in their little cottages with the lights burning until dawn. Lukas didn’t have any words for them. He knew—they all knew—that if the thick wooden gate couldn’t keep the ogres out, then this makeshift barricade wouldn’t, either. But what else was there to do but try?

  They waited for the crash, for the final blow that would bring the whole gate down. It never came. Instead, Lukas heard the Watch boys and girls up on the wall shouting to each other. Finn was calling his name.

  Leaving Emilie at the barricade, Lukas ran to the ladder. Finn was waiting for him at the top, offering him a helping hand. “I don’t know what to make of it,” the boy said.

  “Make of what? Are the ogres fighting again?”

  “No,” said Finn, and he pointed to the Peddler’s Road. The bright, clear moon lit the night well enough that Lukas could make out a crowd of shapes coming up the road, and his heart immediately sank in his chest. Another army was marching on New Hamelin. A line of massive figures in the front, some as tall as, if not taller than, the ones at the gate, were charging forward at a full run.

  “We’re finished,” said Lukas softly.

  But Finn shook his head. “That’s not what they think. Look at the ogres.”

  For the first time, Lukas looked down at the battlefield. The front gate was lit with a flickering orange glow from the flaming arrows that littered the ground. Some had burned out, but many more were still smoldering, making the ground look like a crop of torches. Rat bodies were everywhere, and the Watch had even managed to bring down one of the ogres with about a hundred arrows. But none of that mattered right now. Right now Lukas was watching as the ogres dropped the battering ram and stood there, dumbfounded. The rats that were left turned their weapons around and faced the charging line of newcomers.

  “What are they doing?” asked Lukas in amazement. “Are they getting ready to fight their own reinforcements?”

  “There!” shouted a voice. It was Pidge, the bell ringer, in his tall lookout tower. “Do you see her? Out in front! Look!”

  It wasn’t until the approaching army reached the line of firelight that Lukas was able to get a good look at the human girl leading the charge. Coming to the rescue. A girl with bright pink hair.

  When Max saw the fires burning around New Hamelin, she was afraid they’d arrived too late. From the moment the first Bordertowners stepped foot on the Summer Isle, they’d been able to hear the sounds of distant fighting. In singles, pairs or even clumps of whole families, they stepped through the Black Door, and it was like stepping into a bitter frost. Expecting summer, they found a winter’s night instead. Of course, Max knew at once what was happening; she’d been through true nights before. Even so, as she stepped through the doorway and felt the crunch of frozen moss beneath her feet, as she saw the silvery moon high overhead, her confidence faltered and she wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake leading them here.

  But then she’d spotted the drifting lights of the Shimmering Forest, and the Peddler’s Road beyond that, and at once she knew where they’d emerged. When the Piper stole Max and her brother, they’d been found in the Shimmering Forest, asleep on a bed of furry moss. It was to this very glade that the Black Door had opened. On this side, the door blended in perfectly with a dense copse of trees at the edge of the glade, and if it hadn’t been wide open, it would have been hidden to the naked eye. As Captain Hob would have said, this was one of the thin places where the worlds almost touched.

  If they were near the edge of the Shimmering Forest, that meant they were close to New Hamelin, which was good. But it also meant that it was probably New Hamelin where the sounds of fighting were coming from, and that was undoubtedly bad. Very, very bad. It meant that New Hamelin was under attack.

  Max tried to hurry the stream of Bordertowners through the door, but it was proving difficult, as most stood around dumbfounded once they stepped through. The elflings, trollsons and goblinfolk had fled their cavern city for the fabled Summer Isle, but what they found was a frozen forest at night. It would take hours for the whole of Bordertown to make it through, and Max’s gut warned her that New Hamelin didn’t have hours.

  So she searched the confused faces until she found Harold, Mrs. Amsel and Geldorf. Mrs. Amsel, bless her, was already organizing groups of elflings to make campfires and erect tents on this side of the door. She’d even put on several pots of tea.

  That was well and good, but it was the trollsons Max needed now. Quickly she explained to Harold and Geldorf what she feared was happening, that the one human village in all of the Summer Isle was under attack. The one safe haven that the Bordertowners could count on might not be there come dawn. Geldorf, still antsy because he hadn’t gotten any licks in on Vodnik before Hillbeater squished him, was up for a fight. And with Harold’s help they quickly assembled a group of thirty or more trollsons and giant daughters, a rough-looking bunch of thick, gnarled faces and stony fists. At seven feet tall, Harold was easily the smallest of the lot, which meant that poor Max came up to most everyone else’s shins.

  Nevertheless, she led the way. Leaving Mrs. Amsel to manage the rest of the Bordertowners, Max guided the small army of trollsons and giant daughters out of the Shimmering Forest and to the Peddler’s Road. The road had changed since she’d last seen it—it was now filled with brambles and vines—but Harold and Geldorf cleared the trail with ease. In the distance, Max could see the glow of fires ringing New Hamelin. She could hear the roars and the sounds of wood splintering.

  She urged her companions to pick up the pace.

  When they got close enough to see the bodies littering the field outside the village, Max nearly cried out in alarm. But then she saw that the bodies belonged to rats. So, so many rats, but there were even more still living, swarming about the base of the village walls. And there were other beasts, three hulking masses of muscle even bigger than Geldorf. They were clustered at the gate, and a fourth lay unmoving among the dead.

  “Ogres,” Geldorf whispered in awe. “I heard stories but never thought to lay eyes on one.” Upon seeing the carnage, Max expected the trollsons to have second thoughts. Instead, Geldorf just shot her a heady grin and cracked his stony knuckles. In contrast, however, Harold’s face was a reminder that Max’s large friend was still just a boy. Max could see the fear in his eyes as he gaz
ed down upon the battlefield. Still, he didn’t falter. No older than Carter, but just as brave.

  The trollsons let out a savage yell and charged straight into the attacking army of rats, who’d by now seen the newcomers and were setting up their lines of defense. The charge sounded so ferocious that Max wondered at Geldorf’s claims that the trollsons of today were ordinary civilized folk. By the looks of it, they still had a bit of monster left in them, and for that, Max was glad.

  The rats, faced with dozens of roaring trollsons, broke easily. Half turned tail, literally, and ran, while the rest scrambled to put up some kind of counterattack. Trollsons mostly swatted them aside, and giant daughters bashed heads together. Their orderly charge quickly degenerated into a massive street brawl. In all the dust and smoke, Max quickly lost track of Harold and Geldorf, but she had a sense that their side was winning.

  All the while, she dodged fighting bodies and pushed on toward the village gate. What if her friends were inside? What if Lukas and Paul were up on that wall? What if Emilie was inside? But most important of all, where was Carter?

  Just as Max stumbled over the body of a slain rat, a towering shape appeared out of the smoke. At first she thought she’d found Geldorf, but soon enough the creature stomped into full view and Max saw that this was no trollson. This was one of the beasts who had been hammering away at the village gate: an ogre. Layers of blubbery muscle hung on thick arms and legs. Beady eyes in a too-small head narrowed as they spotted her. The ogre let out a gurgling growl and reached for her.

  Max ducked out of the way and rolled. Too late she realized that she was unarmed, though she doubted even a spear would do any good against this behemoth. For a moment, the ogre stood there confused, staring at the spot where Max should have been. Then he turned and caught her trying to sneak away, and let out another growl as he lurched for her a second time.

  But by now Max was far enough away to make a run for it, and so she turned to sprint and…found herself face to kneecap with another of the massive monsters. This ogre was even larger and just as ugly as the first, and he let out a pleased rumble when he saw Max. She was trapped between the two.