“Silence!” shouted Ranulf. “Will we war against each other or the tyrant in the castle? What plagues you, Bittenbender? Hoofstone? And you!” He reared to face the cat so abruptly that Jade’s fur stood on end. “A familiar renders service, not judgment! Aye, Her Ladyship is untrained. So much the better! She is willing to learn. We have all suffered under the tyrant’s rule. But we know naught of magic. Not compared to what may yet be achieved by this youngling.”
Holly couldn’t think what Ranulf meant; what did he expect her to achieve, anyway? She glanced around nervously. Fortimus and Bittenbender were looking at the ground; the small man’s face was red right up into the roots of his hair, and even the stag’s brown cheeks looked a bit pink. Hoofstone the centaur pawed the earth. Jade alone met Ranulf’s glance.
“Very well,” said the cat. “Ranulf, you speak truth. We are fools to waste such a chance as this.” He extended one black paw to Holly, inclining his head. “I am willing to render my service as your familiar, Your Ladyship. Provided . . . ”
The other creatures all raised their eyes.
“Provided there is a test.”
Holly’s heart sank to her stomach.
Ranulf stepped closer. “Do you dare require such a thing?”
“I am not alone in wanting proof beyond a wooden stick.”
“Do I speak to the wind? Her Ladyship is untrained.”
“Yet if she be genuine, she will have some innate power.”
“Oooh!” cried the changeling, popping into the shape of a hedgehog. “Let’s see some magic then! Her Ladyship will show you up, Jade, and no mistake!”
Holly’s heart beat harder and she glanced at Almaric. The old man nudged her forward.
“But I can’t do anything,” she whispered to him.
“Courage, my lady,” he said. “Envision what you desire.”
“Surely this lady does not expect us to take her on faith?” said the cat. “Come now. A saucer of cream. That should prove simple for a true Adept.”
Cream? It didn’t seem the kind of spell that would do much good against a king. But the cat said it would be simple.
Simple to make something out of nothing?
Holly drew the wand from her pocket. Everyone but Jade pulled back into the trees. She raised the wand; the cat flinched, ever so slightly.
Now what? An incantation? She wasn’t about to say Abracadabra. She closed her eyes a moment and heard the faint humming from within the wand. It vibrated in her palm. She thought of what she had seen in the mirror: Ben and Everett huddled on the stone floor. Again the warmth, like blood, surged through her body and down her arm into her fingers. Was this what Almaric was talking about? The magic within her? Was this the great need that would show her true calling? She pointed the wand at the ground, just in front of the black cat. What had happened in the cottage bedroom? She had thought about Ben, and then the mirror showed him to her. Surely if she pictured what Jade had asked of her—a saucer of cream—in her mind, she could create it. One thing seemed sure: If she couldn’t, her little band would never risk their lives to help her. A saucer of cream. Think about nothing else.
But as soon as she told her brain what to do, two images flashed through her mind. They fought with each other, first one dominating, then the other: the boys in the king’s tower and the saucer of cream. She tried to push away the picture of Ben looking so cold and small, and tugged on the saucer, trying to bring it to the surface of her thoughts.
Clearly, that wasn’t going to work. The harder she tried not to think about Ben, the stronger his image became, and she felt the wand’s power fade as she struggled. She took a deep breath. Rescuing the boys was what this was all about; that’s why she needed to show this magic. It was the only way to gain the help she needed. She thought about how Mr. Gallaway had trusted her with the key, how Almaric trusted her now to demonstrate her power. Something in her, perhaps, knew better than she.
So she let the images come, and with them, her fear, a clutching, acidic feeling in her throat that told her Ben was in danger, that he might even now already be hurt, that she might never bring him back home; and then, on top of her fear, came a fiery will, because she had to bring him home. And like the sun shooting from behind a dark cloud, the current gathered in her chest and burst out of her fingers, down through the wood and into the crystal, and bloomed into the open air. Holly’s eyes flew open.
A dim spark lit the darkening ground, and then the grass seemed to bubble up from below. It rounded, forming a bowl, and the dirt within it swirled, lightening in color. Holly gasped. There it was: a shallow clay bowl, filled with—
“Buttermilk,” the cat muttered in a low tone to her. “But close enough, Lady Holly.”
Chapter 16
* * *
The Leogryff
Every creature was quiet, as if everyone, including Holly, were holding a collective breath. Even the changeling stood still. Holly locked eyes with the cat, the wand shaking in her hand. She couldn’t believe she had done it—Holly Shepard, who could do almost nothing right at home, had created something out of thin air. She stepped back, feeling the buzz of a slight headache. Almaric and Ranulf looked at each other and nodded. Finally the stag called Fortimus stepped forward. “You shall have my help, Your Ladyship,” he said, bowing his great antlers. One of the falcons flapped noisily, saying, “And I too!” Even Hoofstone bowed, and Holly’s heart lifted.
But Bittenbender, the little man of the Dvergar, snorted. “There’s a fine army, Lady Adept. But I for one need more than a cat’s dinner to stake my life upon.”
The other creatures muttered among themselves. The cat Jade looked sharply at the changeling, who popped into the shape of a starling and flitted off into the trees.
“You dare ask for a test, and then scoff at the results?” Ranulf asked, glaring at Bittenbender.
“Nay, she’s Adept, true enough,” said the little man grudgingly. “Tha’s all very fine. But we an’t heard her tell us what she’ll do fer us, have we?”
Holly felt the blood leave her face. She had thought once she showed them what she could do—true, a saucer of cream wasn’t much against a bunch of castle guards, but still . . .
“What . . . What exactly do you want?” she asked.
Bittenbender stepped forward, grinning in a not very nice way. “How’s about a promise, then? The promise of a Banishment?”
A low murmur circled the clearing, and the little man cocked an eyebrow at her. “Eh? Seems only fair, nae?”
Ranulf stepped in front of Holly before she could ask what a Banishment was or why the little man demanded it. “It is not the proper time for a Banishment. Even the stars say as much.”
“The stars? Pah!” The Dvergar spat on the ground again. “The Earthfolk likes results, we do, not predictions and prophecies. Own up, my lady. Can ye or can’t ye perform a Banishment?”
Holly looked, bewildered, at Almaric and then at Ranulf. “Well . . . I . . . To banish what?”
“Nae what,” said the little man darkly. “Who.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do ye not ken my meaning, lass?”
Holly shrugged. “You mean the king? He’s the one who—”
“Faugh on this king!” spat Bittenbender. “Enough brawn and he’d be done for! We all ken who the real problem is. And my question to the lady is, would she be willin’ to help us with him?”
“I’m sorry,” Holly said, her breath constricting in her throat. What could be a bigger problem than the tyrant king? “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Raethius,” said the little man. “Raethius of the Source.”
The forest fell silent, as if a heavy, dark blanket had fallen over them all. Every face looked away, most at the ground, some fearfully at the skies. The stags huddled closer to one another, and the centaur called Hoofstone glanced at his mate, his chest heaving as if he’d come in from a long gallop. Jade’s green eyes went cold.
“Aye,” said the Dvergar in a lo
w, brittle voice. “So ye’ve been told only half the tale, of our wicked mortal who slaughtered the magicfolk and exiled the Adepts. Well, now.” He brought his ax down and held it in his two hands, running one thumb over the curving blade. “How d’ye suppose that were possible, eh? He’s naught but a man, an’t he? But who d’ye think it was what snatched him as a babe from his cradle in the castle? A being come from the Gloamlands, may be, or somewheres else altogether, who kenned magic beyond the Adepts, beyond all of us! And he hid that bairn with his enchantments, raised him up in the ways of darkness, and returned him to us, his sorcerer’s foot still on his neck. Reynard.” Bittenbender snorted, throwing his ax into the earth, where it stuck fast. “Wot’s he but a lot of bluster? Raethius of the Source holds this kingdom by the throat, Lady! It’s him what keeps us all in chains, and the king besides! No one here’ll deny that.”
Holly felt like someone had scooped out her insides, leaving her heart to flutter helplessly alone inside her body. “But . . . But I don’t know what you think I could do about someone like that.” Holly paused as the truth began to sink in. Why hadn’t Almaric and Ranulf told her about this sorcerer? A king was one thing, but . . . “I don’t know that kind of magic,” she said in a small voice.
“As I thought!” crowed Bittenbender to the others. “We’re to help her storm the castle, take on Reynard’s guards, open ourself to the slaughter, but what’s she doin’ for us, eh?”
All the creatures began speaking at once, some quite loudly. Those with hooves began to stamp and scuffle the ground until it shook; Almaric tried to reason with them, dodging the stags’ antlers; Jade argued with Bittenbender, who waved his ax in the air, crying, “Banishment! A pledge is a pledge!” Glancing around the darkening clearing, Holly saw that some of the creatures had already disappeared into the wood. She would lose them all if she didn’t do something. She pulled out the wand and held it above her head.
“Quiet!” she shouted.
The loud discussion eased, every eye on the wand.
“Look,” said Holly, “I don’t blame you guys for being upset. But we’re wasting time. This king you all hate has my brother locked up somewhere in that castle, and I’ve got to get him out—and Everett, too. I don’t know what do about the—the Sorcerer. I want to help you, but right now I have to think about my brother. I brought him and Everett to this place, and I need to get them out. And”—she glanced at Ranulf and shrugged—“if I have to do it by myself, then I guess I will.”
At once everyone clamored to be heard again. Ranulf’s voice rose above the rest. “Will you see our last hope, the only Adept left in the kingdom, go to her certain doom? Who of you will stand with us and defend her?”
A long, uncomfortable silence stretched out while the group glanced at one another. Bittenbender shouldered his ax and waved a thick forearm. Several of the creatures walked ahead of him, heads bent low, into the forest. Holly started to speak, but the little man pointed his blade at her and growled: “When ye’re trained, when ye’re ready, then’s may be a time to talk. We’ll be pledgin’ our service when we get a pledge of our own.” He stalked off into the woods after the others.
They were a sorry lot now. Only two stags, Hoofstone the centaur, and a few falcons remained. One minute she was their hero, she was making things appear out of the twilight, and the next they were turning on her. What good was magic if it didn’t get her what she wanted?
Holly sighed, then blinked. The cat still stood in front of her; that was something, though she couldn’t see what help he would be. She slipped the wand into her back pocket and looked at Ranulf. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have managed to do something more amazing, I guess. Thanks, everybody. I know you’re trying to help.”
“Do not despair, Your Ladyship,” Ranulf said, coming forward. “We are few, but I believe enough. We await still another who shall turn the tables to our favor.”
Hoofstone spoke up. “Ranulf! Then Fleetwing will come?”
“Fleetwing?” said Holly. “Who’s that?”
“Hark!” cried the centaur. “He is here!”
All eyes turned to the sky, and Holly’s glance followed. She could hear the beating of a huge pair of wings, but she could see nothing. And then, at her feet, the ground shook. The other creatures scattered. Then suddenly, right in front of her, a figure solidified.
It was Holly’s turn to step back toward Almaric’s cottage. The thing approaching her looked like an enormous black panther. Its paws were like manhole covers, and the shoulders towered over the centaur’s. It had no mane, only sleek, black fur and a long, tapered head like an otter’s. Extending from its dark shoulders, an enormous pair of batlike wings spread and flapped, making a breeze.
“Almaric, what is that?” Holly whispered.
“Fleetwing is a leogryff, and Your Ladyship’s best hope of rescuing your kinsman.” Almaric scooted behind her. “Show no fear, my lady.”
Holly willed her voice to be steady. She looked up at the centaur. “Is Fleetwing . . . Is he yours, Ranulf?”
A gasp whispered through the group, and the leogryff threw back its head and screamed like a hawk (if the hawk were the size of a small elephant). It strode toward her. “I belong to neither beast nor man,” it cried in a windswept voice, fixing one of its fathomless black eyes on Holly. When the leogryff was close enough to tickle her ear with its hot breath, it whispered, “I belong only to the sky . . . human.”
It took all Holly’s courage to gaze into the leogryff’s eye. Almaric’s right; I have to be strong. “I’m . . . I’m sorry if I was rude,” she said. “I’m a stranger here.”
The leogryff raised its great head from her shoulder. “So we are told—an Adept from a faraway land.”
“You have to help me,” Holly blurted. “It’s my brother, at the castle. I don’t know what the prince might be doing to him, and I have to get him out of there. Please.”
Almaric and Ranulf exchanged an alarmed look. “My lady,” Almaric whispered, “you must ease into an agreement with Fleetwing, he isn’t the type to—”
The leogryff bounded into the air, its great wings spreading out thirty feet or more. It circled the clearing and roared like a lion, ending in the long, lonely cry it had made before. The other creatures stampeded back to the safety of the trees; even Jade backed up to Holly’s legs. “Show him your strength,” Almaric whispered.
Holly rooted her feet into the ground. Above her head, the leogryff swooped above the trees, dove toward the ground, and grazed Holly’s shoulder with his powerful tail. She flinched, breathing hard. Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. One hand strayed to the wand in her pocket, reminding her of the way Ranulf grasped the hilt of his sword in its scabbard. The leogryff’s claws brushed the top of her head as it screamed and shot back into the sky. At last the creature landed lightly before her.
“The Lady Adept is fearless,” said the leogryff, inclining his head. “I have watched and listened to this counsel this past hour, cloaked in the night sky.”
It was an uncomfortable thought. Holly hoped no one else could hear her heart rattling inside her rib cage. “I . . . I want to help,” she said, remembering Bittenbender. Fleetwing was clearly the strongest creature she had seen, and she would need him. “With the . . . the Sorcerer, I mean.” She tried to look the leogryff in the eye, which was as broad as her forehead.
“Ye know naught of what ye speak,” said the creature, hissing.
“No, I know that, but maybe I could learn.” Learn what, though? She couldn’t take on that Sorcerer, but maybe if she got quite good with the wand . . .
The great black eye narrowed, gazing into hers, gauging her sincerity. “You speak truth, Lady. You would come to our aid.” The leogryff’s glance swiveled to Ranulf. “The skies tell of it?”
The centaur nodded. “They do.”
Fleetwing raised his head, as if catching a scent on the wind. “I pledge my service now,” he said, “and expect more of this Adept in times
to come.”
Holly bowed in response. She didn’t know what he meant, exactly, or what Ranulf had meant either. They made her a bit nervous, as if she’d promised something without quite realizing it. But there was only one way to breach a castle wall, and that was with a beast like this. “Thank you, Fleetwing,” she said.
Almaric beamed and sighed with relief. “Well now, isn’t that wonderful . . . Of course we knew Fleetwing would help. Very good. Now, Ranulf, what do you suggest?”
The centaur drew his sword and swept it over the grass. Holly jumped back as sparks flew from it and it sheared the grass like a lawn mower. “My sword, Claeve-Bryna, has never failed me in battle before. She shall not fail me this night. Do not fear, my lady. We shall likely find the lads stowed in the North Tower, where others of us have been taken. We are fortunate in that: the prison is far from the gatehouse, and so tall that the castle guards do not expect it to be breached.” He glanced up as if the tower had sprouted in the wood before them.
“How tall is it, exactly?” asked Holly, who had been thinking the boys would be in a lower dungeon somewhere.
“Twice the height of Almaric’s Elm, at the least,” said Hoofstone. Holly gulped; the Elm stretched fifty feet or more into the sky.
Almaric gave her a tremulous smile. He patted her shoulder and cast a sneaking glance at Fleetwing. “Not to worry, my lady. Such a tower is no match for a leogryff.”
Chapter 17
* * *
Flight
It was only a few minutes later that Holly watched as the stag and centaurs galloped away with a rallying cry, Ranulf holding the weapon he called Claeve-Bryna high over his head. The falcons disappeared ahead of them into the gathering dusk. Holly stood with Almaric, Jade, and Fleetwing for a few moments in an awkward silence. Ranulf had explained his plan to rescue the boys, and while Holly had felt quite brave in demanding help from the Exiles, suddenly the whole project looked impossible. And this was the worst part: waiting. Ranulf had pointed to the moon, near full above the cottage, and instructed her to stay put until it cleared the treetops.
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