“Can’t you make the flames disappear?” said Sophie.
“No,” said Jinx. “The preceptors have got too much power.”
The flames crackled toward them. Rivers of light and shadow climbed the walls. There was no smoke—the preceptors didn’t want to choke themselves, Jinx supposed. But there was plenty of heat.
“Can you make a hole in the wall behind us?” said Sophie.
“No good, Professor,” said Wendell. “This is an outer wall, and we’re about fifty feet up.”
The flames were still marching toward them. Jinx, Wendell, and Sophie backed up until they were pressed against the dead end of the passageway.
“So, Sophie. You’re craftier than I thought.” It was the Preceptress’s voice. “All this time you were pretending not to study magic, you were busy becoming a creator adept.”
“What’s this green fire?” said Sophie, shouting over the roar of the flames. “Is this KnIP? Are you using magic? What about the law?”
“We make the laws,” said the Preceptress. “Laws are for other people.”
“Why—”
“We’ll ask the questions,” said the Preceptress. “How did you learn KnIP, after you refused my offer of a preceptorship?”
“You have to let these boys go,” said Sophie. “They haven’t done anything.”
“The boy deserves to die as much as you do.” The flames began to edge along both sides of the corridor. “He came here as a spy for Simon Magus, and he is positively foul with magic.”
The flames reached to the ceiling. Things were becoming uncomfortably warm.
“If you let him go, he’ll go far away,” said Sophie. “He’ll never return here. I can promise you that. And—”
“And we should accept your promise? After you’ve betrayed our trust for so long?”
The green, dancing fire was completely opaque. Jinx couldn’t see the preceptors, but he could still sense that huge mass of knowledge. And knowledge was power.
“Sophie, keep talking to them,” Jinx said quietly. “I’ve got an idea.”
The flames grew hotter still, and bright, bright green. Jinx heard Sophie arguing. He moved closer to the preceptors, closer to the flame. He felt his eyes getting too hot, and then his face.
Now he was just a few feet from that enormous store of knowledge, and he began to draw on it. And draw on it. It was a vast amount of power. It was as great as the Urwald’s, but it was a very different kind of power, a doing instead of a being kind. He reached out a hand for it, through the flames, and felt it wind and intertwine with his own knowledge.
Now then.
Jinx backed away from the flame fast. His hand was burned and blistered. Wendell immediately started whacking him on the head.
“Hey!” said Jinx.
“Your hair’s on fire,” said Wendell.
Jinx grabbed Wendell and said in his ear, “I’m going to make a door, and you absolutely, totally have to know that it’s there.”
“Okay,” said Wendell.
“I mean it,” said Jinx. “You have to know it’s there.”
“Sure.”
Sophie was yelling at the preceptors, stuff about how they didn’t let knowledge out of the Temple because they wanted to preserve their power, and how they kept magic illegal so that they could be the only magicians in Samara. The flames had crept all the way around now, completely surrounding Jinx, Sophie, and Wendell. And the circle of fire was drawing inward.
The sleeve of Wendell’s shirt caught fire, the green flames dancing upward. Wendell’s hair was on fire now, and Sophie beat at his head. Her hair was on fire, too. Distractions! Jinx gripped the preceptors’ rolling, unwieldy knowledge and concentrated as hard as he had ever done in his life.
He turned to the dead end of the corridor and knew the Urwald was there.
A tear appeared in the flames. It wasn’t a door exactly, it was nothing like so neat. It was a round, ragged rip in reality.
“Do you see it?” he demanded.
“Yes,” said Sophie.
“What?” said Wendell.
“Just grab him,” said Jinx, and he and Sophie dove through into the Urwald, dragging Wendell between them. They rolled on the ground, putting out their burning clothes and hair.
“Ouch,” said Jinx, sitting up.
“Wow, is this real?” said Wendell.
“Realer than anything,” said Jinx. “And it’s really dangerous, so don’t do anything stupid.”
Orange puff of hurt. Jinx sighed. “I don’t mean stupid stupid, I mean unfamiliar-with-the-Urwald stupid.”
“The prison’s still there,” said Sophie.
And it was. There was a hole in the air, a couple feet above the Urwald floor, and through it Jinx could see the green flames.
“I can see it now!” said Wendell. “You made some kind of—door through the world, or something.”
“We need to get out of here,” said Sophie.
“They can’t get through, can they?” said Wendell. “They don’t know the hole is there.”
“They’ll know when they take the flames away,” said Jinx. “And don’t find our bodies.”
“But I didn’t see the hole,” said Wendell.
“No offense,” said Jinx, “but they’re better at this than yo— than we are.”
Yes, the preceptors were better at KnIP than Jinx. They were creators adept, and he was just some kid feeling his way through magic that was much too hard for him.
At least, that was how it had been back in Samara.
But this was the Urwald. Jinx felt its power breathing and flowing through him. He wasn’t some lowly scholar here. He was the Listener. He was the Werechipmunk. He was the Urwald.
I need a ward spell, he told the Urwald. He’d never done the spell, but he’d strengthened Simon’s, with the Urwald’s help. Do you remember?
Wizard’s magic. Strong and tall like trees. Yes. The Urwald remembered.
Around this portal, then, said Jinx. Over and all around.
“What’s he doing?” said Wendell.
“Hush,” said Sophie.
Jinx knew he learned magic best from the inside, and he’d seen the inside of Simon’s ward spell. He and the Urwald grew the ward the way a tree grows, reaching and crawling deep into the soil, stretching high toward the sun.
Inside the portal, the green flames vanished. The preceptors appeared, standing in the prison hallway.
“How did they do that?” said Sophie. “KnIP spells can’t be undone.”
“I guess the fire must be different,” said Jinx. “You kind of draw it in, maybe.”
The preceptors crowded at the end of the corridor, milling around, two feet in the air. Their thoughts were a purple-black blur of confusion—as if they were wondering where the corpses were.
Unfortunately they didn’t stay confused for long.
“They’ve made a portal,” a preceptor snapped.
“I can’t see it,” said a preceptress.
“Surely they’ve been dashed to bits if they made a portal in this wall. It’s fifty feet down to the courtyard.”
“Unless they made a portal to somewhere else.”
“They don’t have the power for that.”
“Nonetheless, I think they did,” said the Preceptress. “In fact, I know they did. And I know where.”
“Where?”
The Preceptress paused for a moment, as if considering whether to answer.
“We should get out of here,” said Wendell.
“No,” said Jinx.
“They’re in the Urwald,” said the Preceptress.
And a moment later all thirteen preceptors were climbing through the hole in the air and tumbling out onto the forest floor.
Sophie and Wendell backed away. Jinx did not. He stood watching them as they recovered from their stunned surprise and got to their feet.
“So it is real,” said a preceptor.
Jinx remembered his acting lessons. People would believe he was who he pret
ended to be. Arrogant. Imperious. He drew himself up to his full height, such as it was.
“I could have killed you all just then,” he said. “But I chose not to. Yes, this is the Urwald.”
“Thank you,” said the Preceptress. “We’ve been trying for years to open a portal to the Urwald. But we couldn’t do it, because none of us knew the Urwald.”
She took a step toward him and hit an invisible wall.
“What’s this?” she said. “Some sort of ward? I know it’s not there.”
“Then you’re wrong,” said Jinx.
The other preceptors were pushing against the ward, their faces pressed grotesquely flat against it.
“Cool,” said Wendell.
“Very nice, Jinx,” said Sophie.
The preceptors were busy summoning their vast golden knowledge, which was all crowded into a few square yards with them. They were creating portal and door and window spells in the ward, but nothing happened. Knowledge was power, but the Urwald was a different kind of power.
“KnIP won’t work against it,” said Jinx. “So don’t waste your time. You can’t get through the ward. But trolls can. And werewolves. And all the other things you’ve read about. They’re all real in the Urwald, and they’ll be along soon.”
Won’t they? he asked the trees.
We have no control over the Restless.
You always say that, said Jinx. But I think you do.
We will see what we can do.
“Shouldn’t we leave then?” said Wendell.
“Nah. I can do a concealment spell.” Jinx nodded at the preceptors. “They can’t.”
“Of course we can,” said the Preceptress. “There is much more to KnIP than a mere professor like Sophie has been able to teach you.”
They were still feeling around the ward spell, figuring out that it encased them like a dome.
“Go back through the portal,” said Jinx. “And I’ll close it, and no one will get hurt.”
“Idiot boy. You can’t close it now,” said the Preceptress. “We know it’s there.”
Nobody called Jinx an idiot except Simon, and Simon didn’t really mean it—or, well, meant it in a way Jinx was used to. “Shut up and get out of the Urwald,” he snapped.
“We’ll figure out a way to get through your so-called ward,” said the Preceptress. “And even if we don’t, we can simply make another portal somewhere else . . . once we know. Ladies and gentlemen, please know the Urwald.”
“Trees, numerous,” said a preceptor. “Spaced at distances of approximately one to fifteen feet.”
“Height, up to and including three hundred feet,” said a preceptress.
“Deciduous and coniferous. Diameter at chest height up to eight feet.”
“Shut up,” said Jinx. Their babbling was nothing like knowing the Urwald, but it might well be knowing it.
“Fauna, reported: trolls, werewolves, various.”
“The place assuredly exists,” said a preceptor, “and is not merely a metaphorical expression of our fears and anxieties.”
“Inhabitant, observed,” said a preceptress, pointing at Wendell. “Adolescent male.”
“Ah, one of the locals,” said the Preceptress. “A genuine Urwalder. Charming in his savage innocence.”
Wendell opened his mouth to speak, then shut it with a small glow of satisfaction.
But Jinx was getting really worried. “Stop knowing! Get out of here, now.”
“Climate, apparently cool to temperate, with frequent precipitation,” said a preceptress.
Jinx needed to do something—but what? He’d been lying when he’d said he could have killed the preceptors. He didn’t know any spells that would actually kill anybody. There was fire, but he couldn’t burn the Urwald.
“Estimated value of trees, per unit, up to two hundred seventy aviots.”
There was a green gleam of greed with these words, and Jinx remembered what Reven had said. Urwish lumber would be worth a lot in Samara.
“Two hundred seventy?” a preceptor said. “Look at that one over there. Five hundred aviots, at least.”
The Terror is back, said the Urwald.
Jinx thought of Reven. But the Urwald explained.
The Terror. Thirteen terrors. They must die. The trees murmured to each other along their roots. We must kill these intruders.
And Jinx had a horrible feeling that by “we” the Urwald meant him.
“Jinx? What’s the matter?” said Sophie.
I can’t kill the preceptors! Even if I knew how—
We know how.
They’d fight back, Jinx said. I don’t know what spells they can do, but they might know some that can cross the ward. They’d kill my friends.
“There must be thousands of trees like that one in this forest,” said a preceptress, pointing at the 500-aviot tree. “We’re looking at hundreds of thousands of aviots here.”
Suddenly the air was filled with a stink like rotting meat.
“Millions of aviots,” said a preceptor.
Greed attracts trolls.
Jinx grabbed Sophie’s and Wendell’s arms. “Don’t move, and don’t speak.”
He drew the concealment spell around them just in time. The forest filled with trolls—tusks and claws, matted fur and rolling bloodshot eyes, and that terrible troll stench. Even though he knew he was invisible, Jinx had trouble standing his ground as the trolls tromped past, missing him by inches. He kept an extra tight grip on Wendell—Sophie at least knew that the concealment spell would work, but Wendell might do anything.
Jinx couldn’t see the preceptors through the mass of trolls, but he could hear their cries and screams. He felt sick.
Then suddenly there were werewolves, too, seething among the trolls, leaping and snapping.
You did call them, Jinx said shakily, to the trees.
There was snarling and roaring. Jinx could no longer hear the preceptors. The heaving mass of monsters surrounded the concealment spell on all sides. The creatures knocked and smashed and bit and growled, and they kept just missing Jinx and his friends. Then an enormous troll fell directly in front of Wendell, and Wendell stumbled backward.
“No!” Jinx grabbed Wendell, and the concealment spell broke.
Concealment spells kept you from being noticed. And now Jinx and his friends were being noticed by masses of monsters. The creatures came at them, snickering and slurping. Jinx, Sophie, and Wendell pressed close together in the shrinking circle.
“Stop!” Jinx yelled. “Where’s Malthus?”
The werewolves looked at Jinx, and at each other. None of them was wearing spectacles. But there were jagged lines of green-gold puzzlement. At least he’d confused them.
“You can’t attack us!” said Jinx. “The Urwald needs me! I’m the Listener. Ask Malthus! And you can’t have my friends, either!”
“You know these werewolves?” said Sophie.
“Unfortunately, no,” said Jinx.
The werewolves muttered and growled to each other. The trolls laughed and advanced on Jinx and his friends, slavering and snarling.
Jinx really didn’t like setting people on fire. But the alternative was to be eaten. He ignited the trolls’ matted fur, one fire after another—green flames and red, purple and blue, as fast as he could.
Then there was a loud collective roar, and the werewolves turned on the trolls.
Flames, said the trees. Fire. Burning.
The Urwald was not pleased.
The trolls yowled and roared and thundered away, some of them burning, some of them not. The werewolves pursued them. Jinx watched them go and, when they were almost too far away to sense, he sucked the flames out of existence. He concentrated hard on this. It was very important not to let any fires catch in the Urwald.
“Grandpa’s arse!” said Wendell.
“That’s all of them, anyway,” said Jinx.
“Not quite,” said Sophie.
Jinx turned around and looked up at an enormous, yellow-t
usked troll.
The troll was missing an arm.
“You!” said the troll.
Jinx hadn’t known trolls could talk. Even trolls that used to be human. Even trolls that used to be his stepfather.
“Get lost, Bergthold,” said Jinx.
“You know this troll?” said Sophie.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Jinx.
“Owe you.” The troll reached out and grabbed Jinx by the arm, and lifted him into the air. Jinx kicked and flopped, too disoriented by the swinging to summon fire.
Sophie whacked the troll with a heavy stick. “Let Jinx go!”
Bergthold knocked Sophie casually aside. She rolled over, out of Jinx’s line of sight. He struggled frantically, trying to see what had happened to her. He still couldn’t find the fire.
Bergthold gave Jinx a shake. “Owe you for my arm.”
“You do not!” Jinx gasped. “You tried to kill me. All I did was cut off your arm. We’re even. Not even even!” His own arm was agonizing. “I owe you!”
“Never did you no harm.”
“You beat me and starved me and abandoned me in the forest!” Jinx kicked at the troll, but couldn’t make contact—he was too far from its body.
And Sophie—what had happened to Sophie? Where was Wendell?
Then Jinx saw them, circling to get behind the troll. Jinx looked away quickly. This couldn’t end well.
“Gave you a start in life,” said Bergthold, in the tone of someone who had never been wrong since the world began. “Thanks I get? Chopped my arm off.”
He swung Jinx suddenly forward and opened his mouth wide, his yellow tusks and sharp yellow fangs gleaming. The smell of rotten meat was overpowering. Jinx kicked and hit with his free hand and tried to gouge at Bergthold’s eyes. Bergthold’s mouth closed on Jinx’s captive arm. There was a horrible crunching sound. Then Jinx and the troll were tumbling to the ground. Jinx was in a sick red haze of pain. He had a very blurry sense of what happened next, but it involved Sophie, Wendell, sticks, a large rock—and a werewolf.
Jinx had the fuzzy feeling that he ought to do something magical, but he was in too much pain to think straight. But he needed to help his friends, and he really couldn’t do anything useless and embarrassing like faint. Which he promptly did.
27
Jinx's Magic Page 23