River of Magic (The Mysterium Chronicles Book 2)

by Simone Pond

  “Whatever. Enchantress. You’re in a prison cell. How much worse could it get?” I asked.

  “Have you been outside?”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted.

  “For all I know, Jordan Temple, you could be some crazy witch with a vendetta against Glendora, plotting to use me for some sort of trick to get back at her. I don’t know. I’ve learned not to trust anyone. Anyone.”

  The conversation was starting to irk me. “Look, your boyfriend, Sawyer, sent me on this wild goose chase to rescue you so you can help me get my people through the Rankin Canal. You’re the only one who can open it. That’s it. I save your ass, you save mine. Then you and Mr. Fancy Pants are free to go wherever you please.”

  More silence from behind the thick stones.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Sawyer sent you?”

  “That’s right. And I don’t really care about the hyena. I just need to get you out of here so you can help me and my people. Okay?”

  I guess Isabella concluded I was on her side because she said, “The witch has me trapped in a cell underneath the stairs.”

  I slumped back against the cold stones. That was a bummer. How in Ancients’ name would I ever be able to extract her from underneath the stairs without the use of my magic? I couldn’t use my last golden star, that was for an emergency only.

  “There’s a way,” said Isabella. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  “Let me guess, it involves going out this window and scaling the tower?”

  “Yes. There’s a small window in my cell. It’s directly below the tall window. If you can remove the bars of my window and toss me a rope, I’ll be able to get out.”

  She made it sound so simple. As though we weren’t hundreds of feet above jagged rocks. And as if I had equipment to remove iron bars from windows, let alone a rope to toss down.

  “You want to get through the channel, right?” she asked.

  “It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of necessity,” I said.

  “Well, get creative. And you’ll probably want to get to it before Glendora makes her rounds. Or we have other visitors.”

  Isabella was a sassy little firecracker. Part of me appreciated her energy and part of me wanted to leave her to figure it out on her own. I got up and started back down to my cell to get what I thought might help.

  Chapter 11

  The puddles of liquid gold were still on the dirt floor of the prison cell. I let out a huge sigh, grateful it hadn’t melted through. I grabbed the pair of shoes I’d taken off earlier. Not much for containers, but they’d have to do under the circumstances. I wasn’t about to go wandering around the High Tower looking for an empty bottle. I used my palms to scoop up as much of the gold goop as I could and pour it into both shoes, filling them up all the way to the brim. Fortunately, they didn’t melt since they’d been in contact with me. Good to know. I snatched my dress off the floor and made my way back up the spiral staircase.

  Under the open window, I sat and ripped the material of the red dress into long strips and tied them together in double overhand knots until the fabric was gone. I looked along the edge of the tall window for something to anchor the rope to, but there were no hooks, knobs, or latches.

  “Jordan.” Isabella’s muffled voice came from below.

  I leaned down. “What?”

  “The window used to have sconces on either side. See if there’s something left.”

  Sure enough, deep within the crevices of the stones, I found remnants of the old lanterns. Not much remained, but there was enough metal jutting out from the wall to hook the rope to. I rigged the pieces of tied material across the window and attached my makeshift rope to the other piece of metal, making sure it was secure enough to hold my weight so I could scale the side of the tower. I hoped there was enough rope for the journey down.

  Since I needed both hands and feet, I had to get creative with the shoe full of liquid gold. I had two options: the waistband of my bloomers or my camisole. Neither sounded pleasant, especially since I didn’t want witch goo getting all over my bare skin in the most private of regions. I went with the camisole, snugly tucking the heel of the red satin shoe into my cleavage and hoping for the best.

  A blast of cold air shot over me as I straddled the window. The rope trembled in my hands. I hadn’t done anything this perilous since my first year at the academy with Nils when we had to escape from a radio tower. At least that time I had proper equipment and rungs to balance my weight. And I wasn’t balancing a shoe full of incendiary liquid on my chest. I knew the rope would jerk the second it took my entire weight, but the lurching motion still scared the wits out of me. I rested my forehead against the ledge of the window, breathing in and out.

  “One inch at a time,” I said.

  That’s all I had to focus on. One tiny inch at a time. I shuffled downward in slow concentration, waiting for my bare toes to touch the top of Isabella’s cell window. When I had peered down before I started the climb it hadn’t seemed a million miles away as it did now. A gale-force wind whipped around the curve of the tower with such force I lost my footing and swayed off to the side. I must’ve yelled because Isabella’s voice came up through the small window.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I grumbled.

  But I had spoken entirely too soon. Another strong wind came up around me, and I was flung against the tower. My cheek smashed into the hard surface and my shoulder scraped along the gritty stones. That time, fate hadn’t been so kind. The shoe containing the liquid gold got knocked loose in the collision and tumbled to the abyss below.

  “Not good,” I said.

  I struggled to pull myself back up toward the tall window to get the other shoe. This was my last chance, so I had to make sure I didn’t lose this batch. I’d need to secure it better. I touched the golden star sitting over my heart and pondered just how to do that. I didn’t have any other materials to put to use. Oh, but I did! I pulled the string from my hair, letting my ponytail go, and tied it around the shoe and made a necklace like I had done with the golden star. It was tight like a choker, but secure. There was no way the other shoe was going to drop …

  Once the winds slowed down, I got back out there and lowered myself down the side of the tower. My palms were on fire, as well as my knees and inner ankles from pressing against the rope. When my toes felt the opening of Isabella’s window I released a sigh of jubilation.

  “You did it! I didn’t think you’d pull it off!” she said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  I put some of my weight down on the ledge of the window so I could remove the shoe from around my neck. I dangled it through the bars toward Isabella. I couldn’t tell how far down she stood.

  “What is that? A shoe?”

  “Listen and listen very carefully,” I said. “Don’t let a drop of this stuff touch you. And don’t do anything until I’m back up at the tall window. Once I’m there, I’ll give you the signal to fling that shoe at your window. Just get as far back as possible.”

  Isabella was quiet a moment. She stretched and stretched her delicate hand, until she was finally able to reach the heel of the red shoe. She took hold and backed away with caution. When she did, I got a better look at her face. She was a true beauty with long wavy brown hair and big brown eyes that reminded me of a doe. Her skin had a smooth olive tone and gleamed even though she’d been living in that dank prison cell. When she smiled at me, her eyes glistened like dewdrops on rose petals. Her beauty was more intoxicating than any of the witches I’d seen in Endor because it was natural and pure.

  “You know what to do, right?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  The climb up the rope took longer and my muscles were on fire as I pulled myself through the window and dropped onto the cold stones. It took every bit of rallying I could muster to get myself back up and lean over the side to call down to Isabella.

  “You ready?”


  “Yes!”

  I yanked the makeshift rope up so it wouldn’t be collateral damage and told her to go for it. Then I moved back away from the window and down a few steps for good measure. I didn’t know if the liquid gold would blast through the stone wall or the iron bars or do anything. But I stood back and braced myself just in case.

  The anticipation of waiting for Isabella to make a move fluttered in my chest. Every drip, drop, and creak inside the High Tower amplified to deafening levels, competing only with the sound of my pounding heart. I wanted to yell for her to get on with it. I needed to see this plan all the way through to completion. Maybe it was a microcosm for the bigger one I needed to accomplish. Either way, she was taking entirely too long!

  I started back up the stairs to call down to her again and ask what the holdup was, but when my bare foot touched the stone, an eruption shook the tower. I lost my balance and banged against the wall, tumbling down a few of the steps and landing on my backside. The stones continued to rumble and quake as I half-crawled up the stairs to the window. I tossed the rope back down.

  “You okay?” I shouted, peering over the side. “Whoa …”

  I was shocked the top portion of the tower was still intact. The liquid gold had blasted a hold large enough for a horse. Chunks of gray stones crumbled from the side of the tower down to the rocks below. And the gold was spreading and turning the rest of the tower into molten stone. We had to hurry before the whole thing melted with us in it.

  Isabella reached for the rope with her small hands. She clung to the knotted material, but she wouldn’t step away from the cell. The scraps of what remained of her black dress flapped in the wind.

  “You have to hurry!” I said.

  “I’m afraid I can’t climb.”

  Of course she couldn’t. She hadn’t trained with a bunch of men in an Academy to become an operative. Most women didn’t do such things in the Confederated Six.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll pull you up, but you have to hold onto the rope like your life depends on it. Because it does. And use your feet, too. Try to stand on one of the knots.”

  She gave a subtle nod and very cautiously stepped one foot at a time onto the rope. Though she tried to muffle her gasps and whimpers, I heard them over the sound of the stone liquefying. I sat on the floor and pressed my feet against the wall for leverage and pulled Isabella inch by painful inch up the wall, grateful she was a petite thing.

  At the window ledge, she was able to hoist herself over the side and tumbled into the tower on top of me. Drenched with sweat and muscles flaming, I remained still. Isabella rolled to the side and shook my shoulder.

  “We have to go,” she said.

  I mumbled incoherently.

  More shaking and some dragging toward the staircase. I didn’t know how I was getting down those stairs.

  “The tower is going down,” said Isabella, pulling me up with her arms hooked under my armpits.

  For a split second, I didn’t care if I melted with the rest of the stones. But I knew I couldn’t just give up after all of that work. I stood up and used the wall to prop my sore body as the two of us descended the spiral staircase.

  The tower began to dissolve all around us, the gold spreading faster than we could get down the steps. Contact with any of the gold wouldn’t harm me, but Isabella couldn’t touch a single drop. And it seemed to be spreading faster as the tower collapsed. Chunks of stone started falling into the staircase, blocking the steps, forcing us to climb over the boulders. This slowed us down.

  At one point, Isabella stopped and panted as she pressed against a chunk of stone. “I can’t … do it …”

  I got behind her and shoved her bottom so she went right up over the boulder to the other side. We laughed and that was enough encouragement to get us through those last few flights before the entire High Tower came gushing down in a heap of molten stone. The liquid gold evaporated into the earth having completed its purpose.

  “You did it!” cheered Isabella.

  “We did it,” I said.

  “Yes, but you did all the hard work.”

  I wasn’t going to argue that point. Instead, I changed the subject. “So, you know how to get out of here, right?”

  “I sure do. But …” Isabella stared behind me, her doe-like brown eyes widening.

  “Don’t tell me, Glendora’s behind me.”

  Chapter 12

  When I turned around, Glendora—or what I assumed to be the High Witch of Endor—loomed behind me with a few of her gargoyle-looking minions. Her black eyes glinted like two pools of ink, and her face—my goodness, her face—was like a piece of charred leather that had been beaten with an ice pick then splashed with acid. And though she stood over six feet tall in her pretend city, this version was a curled over, hunch-backed troll that maybe reached five feet.

  “Ew,” I uttered reflexively.

  “Not so pretty, is it, sweetness? Now you see why I so badly want to destroy my dear cousin, Magnus. He did this to my city. And he will pay.” Her voice was as craggy and gravelly as her appearance.

  “Look, I get it. This sucks.” I gestured at her from head to toe. “I mean, really. But I don’t want to get in the middle of your family feud. I’ve got a prophecy to fulfill.”

  Glendora cackled just like all the clichés, and pieces of her scaly skin flaked off and flittered into the soot-filled air. I swallowed back some bile and stepped closer to Isabella. We were getting the hell out of this charbroiled ashtray.

  “And the prophecy you will fulfill. Just as soon as you lure Magnus to me, obtain the Red Ruby, and destroy the wretched warlock,” said Glendora.

  “You said it yourself, fulfilling the prophecy will destroy him,” I argued, digging for some strand of logic.

  “True,” she said. “But I’d much rather watch him die by your hand, sweetness.”

  I stared at the hideous creature for a moment, contemplating the vicious conversation cycle. Something wasn’t clicking into place. She wasn’t letting me in on a vital piece of information. Why would she? After all, she was the High Witch of Endor. I’m sure once I returned the Red Ruby and killed off Magnus, she’d end my life.

  “What’s with the hard sell? Why don’t you just kill your damn cousin yourself?” I asked.

  Isabella nudged me to lean down. “She can’t. If she kills him, she loses the power of the Red Ruby forever.”

  And there it was: the witch needed me. I had the winning hand. Well, that’s what I thought. Until she shot a blast of tar at us from her gnarled fingers, knocking us to the ground. The hot liquid oozed over my skin, encasing both Isabella and me inside a cocoon. I reached under my camisole for the one remaining golden star and yanked it from my neck. I pierced the black goo with one of the points and sliced an opening for the two of us to struggle through.

  “How’d they get out?!” shouted one of the minions.

  Glendora glared at me.

  I aimed the golden star, ready to unleash it straight into her heart of darkness. “Suck it, witch!” But when I tried to release the star it remained in my hand, stuck from the tar of the cocoon. Isabella ran off in the opposite direction and I followed.

  “After them!” yelled Glendora.

  We ran toward a briar patch—in our bare feet—and I braced myself for the burst of pain coming my way.

  Isabella grabbed my hand. “We can’t go that way!”

  I scanned the area and veered off toward the woods.

  “Not much better,” she said.

  “I don’t care. We have to get away from her,” I yelled.

  “It’s no use.”

  “I’m not surrendering. I have something the witch doesn’t.”

  Isabella looked up at me, hope filling her tender eyes. “What’s that?”

  “The Ancient One!”

  We ran into the woods. All the trees had been burned to a crisp and the remains were just blackened branches and dead trunks lining the forest floor. I vigorously rubbed the gol
den star on my bloomers, trying to remove the tar along the way. We carved a path through the sea of deadness, coming through the other side to find Glendora standing there waiting in a clearing.

  She released a cackle that echoed through the sullied air. While she was distracted by her apparent victory, I hoisted the golden star and took aim. I flung it with all my strength and watched it fly across the space between us. The Glendora standing before me vanished into a puff of gray smoke, and the golden star continued onward, landing somewhere in the clearing. Not such a smart choice on my part.

  Another blast of tar shot from behind and wrapped Isabella and me in a cocoon. Glendora had outsmarted me. And now I was out of golden stars.

  The High Witch leaned down and said, “Oh, sweetness. It was a gallant effort. Kudos. Since you’ve melted my tower, I’ll have to find another venue to keep you in until I can lure Magnus to Endor.”

  I kicked at the cocoon, my foot making contact with some part of her body. She stumbled backward and cackled again, then called to her minions, telling them to gather her bounty and bring it to the oubliette.

  “Is she joking?” I asked Isabella.

  “Unfortunately, she’s not.”

  ***

  Glendora’s minions followed her orders and brought Isabella and me to an actual dungeon. They were kind enough to split open the tar cocoon before dropping us into the confined hole in the ground. The aftermath of my rope climbing had started seeping into my muscles and I could barely stand up, but there was no room to sit or even squat. I would’ve found it comical if I weren’t so angry at myself for tossing the golden star into a field of ash. Maybe Matthias was right about me flying off the handle. Had I taken a second to think things through more carefully I would’ve remembered Glendora’s flair for illusion.

  “So, you’re the Chosen One.” Isabella’s sweet voice sounded out of place in the pitch-black hole where we stood shivering.

  “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

  She giggled a little and nudged me lightly. “I’m not disappointed. I’m actually impressed. A lot of the cities in the Confederated Six thought the story of the Chosen One was an urban myth.”