“Archmagus Grima does like her metaphors,” Jayna confirmed. “I still think of mana as a clear, cool lake fed by a mountain stream in a verdant valley, untouched by man and Danger alike…even if that description made Hexam laugh so hard he wept.” She shrugged. “But on the other hand, they do actually sell candles here. They just also happen to have a back room that opens onto a tunnel that leads to the focus.”
The door was locked, and Zed made to squint through the keyhole.
“Hold on,” Brock said, waving him back. “Save your verdant stream or whatever.” He tried a window, and it slid open smoothly. “Someone give me a boost?”
Inside, the structure was just as anyone would expect. Wax candles of varied length and girth adorned every surface. There were baskets full of them, and hanging from the rafters were dried spices, herbs, and flowers that would be used for the scents. Now that Brock knew what to look for, it was so obvious to him that only a small fraction of the plants here could have come from within Freestone. Even humble candlemakers must have dealings with the adventurers.
He unlocked the door and let the others in. “Look who’s not totally useless,” he said to Micah, who ignored him.
“It’s empty?” Liza asked as she entered. “Totally unguarded?”
“The store is,” Jayna said. She led the way into the back room and to a trapdoor in the floor. “But there will be at least one mage on duty below.”
“What’s our plan for dealing with them?” Brock asked.
Jayna looked mildly horrified. “I’m sure we can reason with them. They’re not thugs.”
“Of course. You’re right,” Liza said soothingly, but then behind Jayna’s back she touched her sword’s pommel and cast a hard look at the others. Brock read her expression easily enough: Be ready for a fight.
While Micah tugged on the trapdoor’s ring to pull it open, Brock put his hand on Zed’s shoulder. “Zed, whatever happens in there,” he whispered, “stick close to me, all right?” He frowned a bit. “Except I guess for the part where you blink out of existence and reappear on the other side of a locked door. We might have to split up for that.”
Zed smiled, totally unconcerned. It was the smile of a kid who’d always been chosen last for neighborhood games, or left out entirely—and now found himself the star of the team.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said, and wrapped his arm around Brock’s shoulder. “I’ve got your back.” Then they turned to see the dark hole beyond the open trapdoor, and Zed said, “I’ll go first.”
If a hole in the ground of a candle shop’s storeroom felt unimpressive to Brock, the tunnel beyond made up for it. The long subterranean corridor was lit by a series of softly glowing orbs, each set high into the wall and pulsing with colored light. Since no two orbs emitted the same color, the effect was eerie, but much easier to see by than torch or candle.
“I haven’t seen these for sale in the marketplace,” Brock noted.
“The lamps need to be maintained pretty regularly,” Jayna explained. “Unless you had a mage coming by to charge them, they wouldn’t give off light for more than a day or two.”
The tunnel ended in a tight wood-paneled room outfitted with a bookcase and a large wooden desk. The man at the desk stood immediately, although the alarm on his face faded when he realized the group was composed entirely of kids.
“I hope you have a good reason for being down here,” he said. Brock thought he felt the temperature in the room rising and saw the man was making a small, repetitive gesture with the fingers of his right hand.
“A very good reason,” Jayna said. “I’m with the Sea of Stars now, but I was a Silverglow first, and I’m concerned something may be wrong with the focus.”
The man didn’t seem convinced. “Sorry, who are you again?” he asked. “I don’t think you’re allowed down here.”
“I’m begging you to be reasonable,” Jayna continued. “Your job is to protect the focus, right? What harm could it do to let us check, just to be absolutely certain?”
The mage seemed to think about it. He nodded. “You’re right.”
Jayna visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank you. You wouldn’t believe how difficult—”
“Let’s just get the archmagus first,” the mage said. “You can explain the whole situation to her.”
“No, we…we don’t need to bother the archmagus,” Jayna said.
Now the mage was outright suspicious. He narrowed his eyes and looked from one of them to another, his gaze lingering over their weapons.
“Let’s just get the archmagus,” he said again, continuing the subtle motion of his hand. Brock felt the hair on his arms stand on end. It might have been a trick of the light, but he thought he saw a brief flash of lightning arc between the mage’s fingertips.
“Wait!” Zed shouted, and he pulled a glittering chain from beneath his shirt and held it out to the mage. Dangling from the chain was a small carved figure of a fox.
“What is that?” the man asked. “A dog—?”
“It’s a fox,” Zed answered, sounding mildly offended. “More important: It’s Old Makiva’s work! We think she’s here!”
The mage gave him a puzzled look. “So?”
Zed blinked, confused. “Oh, you’ve probably been down here and didn’t hear about it. See, there’s a bounty because—well, actually, first her tent burned down and—”
Liza slammed the mage across the back of his head with a massive leather-bound book.
Zed yipped and leaped backward as the man crumpled atop his desk.
“Ha! I knew books had to be good for something,” Micah said.
“Nice job distracting him, pal,” Brock said, patting Zed like a puppy.
Zed chuckled awkwardly. “Distracting him, right!”
“Was that really necessary, Liza?” Jayna asked, hands on her hips.
“We tried it your way and got nowhere,” she answered, unconcerned. “My way, he wakes up with a headache and the wards intact. He’ll get over it. Micah, what are you doing?”
Micah was running a quill over the open ledger on the man’s desk. “Signing the guest book.”
“Guest book?” Brock leaned over to see Micah put the finishing touches on an obscene drawing beneath the list of handwritten names. “Jayna, do you know these names?”
Jayna looked at the open book and blushed furiously, looking quickly away.
“Jayna, this is important,” Brock insisted. “I see Grima, Brenner, Brent, the king, and a whole bunch of names I don’t know.”
“They’re mages,” Jayna said, taking furtive peeks. “They’re the ones charged with maintaining the focus. Nothing suspicious on the surface, but any one of them could be dabbling in something they shouldn’t.”
The wood-paneled office led to a long, low room of stone. There were no orbs lit here, and the light from the office at their backs cast their shadows along the entire length of the room. At the far end was an imposing steel door.
“This is it,” Jayna said. “The focus is on the other side of that door.”
“Zed, you’re up,” said Liza. “Get us in there.”
Zed nodded, stepping forward and bending down on his knee before the door. He peered through the keyhole. “I can see it,” he said. “All right. Here goes.” He took a breath, threw back his shoulders, and disappeared in a faint wisp of silvery mist.
Brock felt completely disoriented seeing it, as if the room were tilting. His mind groped for a logical explanation—Zed had fallen in a hole, Zed had slipped into deep shadow—even though he knew the explanation perfectly well: magic.
But this wasn’t the magic of lit globes or invisible walls or even hurtling fireballs. This wasn’t just moving energy around—this was something older and weirder and somehow unsettling. He didn’t fully trust it.
The sudden rush of doubt and distaste felt like a betrayal of Zed, though, and he quashed it down. But he couldn’t deny that he’d felt it.
The hair on the back of his neck rose. He
was terribly uneasy waiting for Zed to get that door open, their five long shadows cast upon the wall like specters caught between life and death, unable to act, waiting for judgment. And then Brock thought:
Five shadows…?
He turned, expecting to find that Zed was back or had never actually left at all. Instead he saw Mother Brenner standing in the open doorway.
“Oh, great,” Micah said.
Liza elbowed him in the ribs. “Shush!”
“Mother Brenner,” Brock began, “we can explain…”
“Please do,” she said primly. She stepped forward into the room and crossed her arms, but with the light at her back, her features were lost to shadow. “This area is beyond off-limits.”
“We’re here as representatives of the Sea of Stars,” Liza said. Her voice was clear and firm. “One of the oldest and most storied guilds of Freestone, and the guild with the most authority concerning matters beyond the wall. Luminous Mother, please listen to us. We have every reason to believe that Frond was right. If you’ll listen…”
“Frond,” Brenner said, and it sounded like a sigh of exhaustion. “Always Frond. But very well, let’s talk. Come along, and we can discuss this in my sanctuary.”
“Oh, no,” Micah said. “No way. Forget it.”
“Micah!” Liza warned.
“That’s where she takes all the guildless weirdos,” he hissed under his breath. “You can smell something foul’s in there, even through the door.”
“I’m sure the four of us can handle a bit of old-lady smell,” Brock whispered. “We should go with the Luminous Mother. All four of us.”
“Right,” Liza said slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. If they left now, Zed at least would be able to carry on with the plan. Even if Brenner proved useless, if she refused to listen, Zed’s stakeout could uncover the proof they needed.
Unfortunately, just at that moment, the door behind them opened, filling the room with the otherworldly purple-blue light of the focus.
“Oh, man, it’s worse than we thought,” Zed said. “There’s definitely a warlock—er. Good evening, Mother Brenner.”
Mother Brenner didn’t return the greeting, and the placid smile was gone from her face. In the shifting purplish light she appeared menacing, the lines of age on her face deepening and twisting into a scowl. Her eyes were flat. Rather than catching the light of the focus, they remained deep pools of shadow.
“I so love children,” she said, her tone mournful.
Brock took a step back and pressed his shoulder against Zed. Something wasn’t right.
“They wouldn’t let me have any of my own, you know. I joined the Golden Way as a little girl. I didn’t grasp then what was being asked of me—didn’t fully understand my vows. By the time I did, it was too late.…”
“We…we all must make sacrifices for the good of Freestone,” Liza said, reciting a pledge they’d all known since they were old enough to speak. She stood at the front of the group, and though her hand had gone to her sword, she seemed reluctant to draw it.
“Indeed we must,” said Brenner. “And we do. But I found a…loophole. Or I suppose it found me. Now I have…so many children…” She took a shuffling step forward and smiled a purple smile. “So many mouths to feed.”
“Mother Brenner, please,” Liza said. “Let’s all go back upstairs. Like you said.”
Brenner took another step forward. Liza drew her sword, slowly. “Please.”
The others gathered tightly behind Liza.
“I can…smell her,” Zed whispered hoarsely.
“You,” Jayna said. “You’re the witch.”
“Witch?” Brenner laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “No, no. Witches and warlocks beg and barter for power, child. I’ve had power thrust upon me.” She held her hands out in an exaggerated shrug. “But I like it.”
“I’ll ask you one more time,” Liza said pleadingly. “Mother Brenner, please, remember who you are.”
“Who I am?” Brenner continued her shrugging motion. She rolled her shoulders back, and her head tilted to one side, then the other. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I am Luminous Mother Brenner anymore.” Her head tilted to a wholly unnatural angle. “I don’t think I have been for some time.”
There was a popping sound, and then a wet smacking noise, and Brock felt a wave of horror and revulsion as he realized the woman’s head was coming apart from her body. In the seam that appeared across her neck, a small worm appeared, poking tentatively at the air. It was a tentacle, and it was followed by a second, a third, a half dozen tentacles and a series of spindly, bone-like legs, all pressing forth from the woman’s neck as the rest of her body went limp and slumped lifelessly to the floor.
They screamed—all five of them—but Liza’s scream was fueled not by terror, but by rage. She launched herself forward, arcing her sword through the air. But the creature batted her sword aside with a tentacle, all ropy muscle and slick with mucus.
The sword wasn’t just deflected—it was shattered.
Liza fell back, and Brock caught her, taking just a step forward—but now he was standing between the beast and his friends as it reared back with several tentacles, preparing to strike.
One of those tentacles had broken steel. What would several do to flesh and blood?
Zed pulled a knife from Brock’s belt.
“Zed,” Brock said, not taking his eyes from the creature before them. “Zed, get behind me.”
Zed put a reassuring hand on Brock’s shoulder. “Not this time,” he said, and suddenly the pressure of his hand was gone. Brock saw silver mist at the edge of his vision.
The monster twisted, lashing out with its murderous tentacles.
Brock winced, closing his eyes.
There was a flash of light. A roar of pain.
Brock opened his eyes to see Jayna standing before him, her arms raised and fingers outstretched. “Wizard’s Shield!” she beamed. “It worked!”
Jayna had thrown up a large enough barrier to protect herself and everyone behind her, Brock realized.
But then he realized not all of them had been behind her when the beast had whirled and attacked.
Zed must have elf-stepped. He must have decided to get on the other side of it. To strike from behind.
Instead, he’d been struck by the creature and hurled across the room. Brock saw him crumpled in a heap against the far stone wall. He was bleeding, and small, and utterly still.
And the beast that had been Brenner remained standing.
Darkness.
That was all Zed saw, as silent and empty as a starless sky. He felt no pain or fear, no worry for his friends or shock at Brenner’s horrific transformation. He felt nothing at all—a peaceful nothing that covered him like a blanket in sleep.
So it was with a small twinge of annoyance that he awoke to the sound of birds chirping.
Zed opened his eyes. Dim light fell through a canopy of leaves, draping gently to the ground like glimmering threads. The trill of birdsong surrounded him. He was in a forest, nestled against the trunk of an enormous tree. More trees stretched on for as far as he could see.
I must have fallen asleep, Zed thought groggily. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. Brock will be worried.
Brock.
It came back to him then. The focus chamber, and Brenner, and the thing she had become. Zed scrambled to his feet, searching the landscape around him. This wasn’t right. Where was he? Where were his friends?
“Hello?” he called out, not even sure whom he was calling to. “Is anyone there?”
Only the birds answered him.
Zed took a step forward. Was he outside the wall? How was this possible? Just a minute ago he’d been standing with his friends, and then…
And then the creature that had been Brenner struck. Zed remembered the moment of incredible pain when the tentacle hit him—pain so intense that his body seemed to scream with it, drowning out the rest of the world—and then not
hing.
I’m dead, he decided numbly. Brenner killed me, and she’ll kill my friends next. I failed everyone. I failed the whole city.
But if he had died, then where was this?
Glancing around, Zed began to realize the forest was oddly familiar. Had he been here before? These trees didn’t look like the ones outside Freestone. They were too large, and their smell was different. Instead, they reminded him of…of a dream he’d had once.
He took another careful step forward. The ground was covered in a layer of leaves as thick as a carpet. An eerie mewling cry sounded from far away.
Another step. Strange lights flitted between the trees in the distance, like tongues of green fire.
One more, and the leaves beneath Zed’s feet began to part.
It was as if the air itself were cutting a trail along the forest floor, one that snaked forward into the woods. Zed gasped and stopped, but the path continued undeterred, winding into the trees until he could no longer see the end.
He had been here before—or at least he’d dreamed he had, while reading the book that Hexam had given him. He remembered the eerie path that unfolded as he walked it, and the sensation of being watched.
So was he dreaming again? There didn’t seem to be any other explanation. Zed tried not to imagine himself broken and near death, hallucinating a forest that wasn’t there.
He rubbed his eyes, but the trail still stretched before him, untroubled by his doubt. Not knowing what else to do, Zed followed it.
The path continued far into the trees, carving a twisted route. Zed wasn’t sure how long he walked it. His thoughts were thick and strange, and the green lights in the distance were distracting.
He didn’t notice as the forest became darker, but he could hardly ignore the smell of sulfur that crept from between the trees, growing stronger the farther he walked.
And when Zed finally reached the end of the trail—and discovered what waited there—he found that he wasn’t surprised. It felt as if he’d been walking this path since that first day in the market.
Old Makiva greeted him with a smile. “Zed,” she said.
“Makiva…” Zed cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry. A long beat of silence passed between them. Makiva looked just the same as he remembered. Kind and pretty, and far too young for her name. “You disappeared,” Zed whispered. “They—they said you were a witch.”
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