The Key & the Flame

by Claire M. Caterer

  “Be quick!” the prince ordered. “Perform thy magic!”

  “Everett, what’s he doing here?”

  “He’s coming with us,” said Ben.

  They couldn’t be serious. “What are you talking about? He’s not going anywhere!”

  “We have to take him! He’s helping us escape,” said Everett.

  A roar went up from the valley and Holly turned back, scanning the crowd. She caught sight of Ranulf fighting bitterly; two men from the village had fallen on him, beating him with sticks as he swung his sword back and forth.

  “Jade, we have to go back and help.”

  “Nay, my lady,” said Jade sharply. “Ranulf would not want it so.”

  “But what if he’s captured?”

  “What if Your Ladyship herself be captured? We must follow the plan.”

  Avery nudged his horse closer. “Does the cat speak?”

  “Silence!” Jade hissed. “Lady Holly, we have no agreement with His Highness. Leave him.”

  Avery seized Holly’s arm, his fingers crushing her wrist. “Your kinsman swore it, Adept.”

  “Look!” Everett cried. “It’s Grandor!”

  The knight had broken free from Loverian and remounted his horse. He shouted something behind him and galloped full on toward the forest, head down, sword drawn. In a moment he would be upon them, and a host of knights on his heels. They had lost their advantage. Holly couldn’t worry about Avery; they would deal with him in the woods. She gripped the wand. What good was her talent for unlocking anything now? She would have to try the Vanishment. It was their only chance. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the beech tree they had entered by—the portal.

  But she didn’t know the spell.

  Her heart drummed against her chest. What difference did it make what words she used, anyway? Hadn’t Ranulf said she knew the Old Tongues, somehow? There must be a word, a phrase. . . . Or maybe she could just think it. . . .

  The ground shook as Grandor’s stallion approached.

  “Lady Holly! Act quickly!” said Jade.

  “Come on!” Holly said. “Everyone get close together, grab hold of my horse. And you all have to be very quiet.”

  The prince edged closer to Holly’s left side, and Everett pushed up behind him, grabbing a piece of the white horse’s bridle. Holly took a deep breath. The picture of the portal focused in her mind. The air grew quiet and still. She brandished her wand. Then her mind opened, and she saw the word as if written in the trees.

  “Hurry, Holly!” yelled Ben.

  “Adepts and traitors!” Grandor roared.

  “Imigh!” Holly cried.

  One moment Holly felt the hot breath of the knight’s horse, heard the rasp of his chain mail as Grandor raised his sword; and the next, all was silent. The forest in her mind compressed in a blur like a fine green shower all around them. Though she couldn’t see the others clearly, she heard them oooh and gasp until the green mist began to clear. Slowly the forest came into focus like a photograph developing, the dense canopy of leaves above, the soft moss beneath the horses’ hooves . . .

  But then, next to her ear, came a bright, slicing noise, steel rasping on steel. Was someone else drawing a sword? The forest scene grew muddled, as if Holly were seeing it through rain-streaked glass. The white horse lost purchase on the ground and whinnied; and then, for a horrible moment, everything went black, as if a heavy curtain had been thrown over them. What had she done?

  “Holly?” came Ben’s voice ahead of her.

  Then other sounds crowded in, demanding her attention: the cries of the villagers; the falcons’ scream; the knights’ roar. They were going back, fading out of the safety of the forest. “Quiet, all of you!” Holly cried. She couldn’t let this happen; she could already feel her energy draining, just like Almaric had said it would. If they ended up back on the hill above the battlefield, she’d never be able to perform the spell again. She just didn’t have the strength, the power that the others thought she had—who was she to wield a real Adept’s wand? She was just playacting, she didn’t even belong here. Even Jade had said so. . . .

  The cat’s voice came out of the dark, as if reading her mind. “Think not on it now, my lady,” he whispered. “You are the Adept. The only one left. Perform the magic.”

  All the training, the fighting, forging the wand, even Áedán, gripping her shoulder with his sticky feet—none of it mattered, not really: She was doing this for Ben, for Everett, to get them home. Because if she didn’t . . .

  “Imigh!” she cried again, gripping the wand. At once the darkness cleared; the battle noises died away. All she could hear was the horses’ snuffling, and Ben’s labored breathing; and then, abruptly, the air brightened, the green mist appeared and focused, the soft ground solidified below, and all around them was the quiet Northern Wood.

  She had done it.

  They had not quite landed at the portal, but on a small rise above, but that was all right: Holly could see the beech tree clearly in the valley below. Ben gave a feeble cheer, and Holly turned to smile at Everett behind her. But before she could do so, something seized her horse’s reins and jerked her around the other direction.

  Holly winced as her right arm was squeezed in a firm grip. “What—?”

  But she stopped, midquestion. She saw at once what she had done. She had Vanished them, all right: herself and Ben, Everett on his yellow mare, the prince on his black stallion, and, his sword drawn and pointed at Ben’s throat, the king’s knight—Sir Grandor.

  Chapter 43

  * * *

  In the Woods

  It took a moment for everyone to realize what had happened, but not nearly as long as it takes to tell it. Holly, astride the white horse, froze for a split second at the sight of Grandor and, before she regained her wits, he wrenched the wand from her hand. Her palm stung as the wood slipped from it, and her stomach buckled as if he had stolen a bit of her own soul. Then just as fast, he seized Ben under the arms and pulled him onto his own horse, knocking Jade to the ground, who spun and snarled.

  “Holly!” cried Ben, reaching out to grab her as he was yanked away.

  “Silence!” cried Grandor, turning his sword to Ben’s throat. “Now shall we see the mettle of this Adept. Where be thy power now?”

  “Grandor.” Prince Avery’s black stallion approached calmly. “That prisoner and the Adept’s wand. They be the property of the crown.”

  Holly glanced at Everett. Was it true? Was Avery really helping them? Everett nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  “As you wish, Your Highness,” said Grandor sullenly, shoving Ben onto Avery’s horse and handing him the wand. Ben nearly hugged Avery in relief. Now, Holly thought desperately, watching the prince for some signal. But he didn’t look at her, only twirled the wand in his fingers, watching it catch the sunlight.

  “Hold him fast, Your Highness,” Grandor said. “The better for me to secure the Adept. She would not see her kinsman harmed, nay?” He leered at Holly. Avery, shrugging, wrapped one arm around Ben’s neck. Whatever he said, whatever they did, Holly would have to go along. At least until she got Ben free—somehow.

  Grandor pulled a length of iron chain from his belt. He clapped manacles around Holly’s wrists and held the chain fast. “And the Adept herself, Your Highness? It is time to rid our land of this pestilence, once and for all.”

  “No!” Ben cried. Avery’s arms gripped him harder. He coughed. “Everett, do something! The wand!”

  Grandor smiled slowly, laying the flat of his sword blade against Holly’s neck. The steel was cold and she could feel the sharp edge angled slightly toward her skin. It would take only the smallest force to slice across her neck. She didn’t dare move, but Áedán, still safe on her shoulder beneath the cloak, stirred restlessly. “Wait,” she told him softly. Grandor was too close; if Áedán tried to protect her now, Grandor would be encircled in the protective flames alongside her.

  The knight smiled as Everett drew out the w
and. “Indeed! I would be glad to finish what was begun on the lists.” He jumped off his horse, pulling Holly with him. The manacles bit into her wrists as she fell. Grandor yanked her to her feet and rummaged in his saddlebag until he found a padlock. Then he dragged Holly to a tree at the edge of the clearing and wound the chain around the trunk, locking her there.

  Beneath the cloak, the salamander’s sticky feet burned on her shoulder. Áedán trembled.

  A moment later, something silky brushed her ankles. Jade had emerged from the trees so silently that no one else noticed him. Grandor had drawn his sword. Everett had slipped off the yellow horse and held out his wand, facing the knight. He looked very pale.

  “Go on, Ev! You can take him!” Ben cheered.

  “Just hang on a second,” Everett said, almost choking on the words. “We don’t have to duel. Avery here—I mean, His Highness—he can take us back to the castle. You can go, Grandor. I’ve got no fight with you.”

  “You have no fight indeed,” said Grandor softly. “Pray, show us the magic, lad. You are so proud of it.”

  Holly stole a glance at the prince, who sat impassively on his horse, one arm around Ben, who was nudging him and whispering furiously. She waited for Everett to strike with his wand, but nothing happened. Everett flicked his wrist with a trembling hand, but the wand only fizzled like a Fourth of July sparkler.

  “What be the problem, sir knight?” asked Grandor in a mocking tone, closing his circle around Everett. “Has the magic run out of your wand, like spilt wine?” He raised his sword.

  “Avery! Do something!” cried Ben.

  “Halt, Sir Grandor,” came the prince’s voice. He didn’t sound especially concerned. “I believe Sir Everett seeks something to even the playing field.”

  Holly bit her lip. “He’s not with them, Jade,” she whispered. “This whole thing’s a trap.”

  Grandor glanced at the prince but did not lower his sword. “And what might that be, Your Highness?”

  “What’s going on?” Everett asked, his voice shaking. “Avery, what’re you playing at?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Ben. “He’s double-crossed us, that’s what!”

  “Silence!” cried Avery, tightening his forearm around Ben’s neck. Ben gagged.

  “Leave him alone!” Everett cried. “You’re supposed to be helping us!”

  “Helping you?” Avery laughed bitterly. “I have played you, the both!” His voice broke; he sounded like he might burst into tears. He pointed Holly’s wand at Everett. “Sir Everett! Thou thinkst me vain and stupid!”

  “No, I don’t,” said Everett. “Honest, I don’t!”

  “Then why wouldst thou promise what thou canst never deliver? To take me to other lands, other worlds? Bribe me with false stories of such wonders?”

  “They weren’t false stories,” Ben cut in. “We’d have done it, if you’d only let us. We still could. It’s you who’s betrayed us!”

  “No,” said Avery softly, “never betray. But learnt. I was led astray in the king’s absence. My father helped me see clearly what I had become, a puppet to outlaws, a slave to the magic of another. Did ye think I would allow an Adept to leave Anglielle, someday to return? Ye think I have no knowledge of magic, that I fear it. But I have watched thee, Everett of the Wood. Watched thee with thy stolen magicks. That wand will do naught lest it be aided by this, thy lady’s token.” With a flourish, Avery pulled from his sleeve a silken red scarf.

  “What lady?” said Ben, glancing at Everett.

  “She took it!” Everett said, sounding tearful. “She just took it and left me to get killed!”

  “That’s what made the wand work?” Ben asked. “The handkerchief?”

  “It was child’s play to discover the secret,” said Avery. “He guarded it too closely, even from thee, squire. To take it is to strip this mage of all his magic. And somehow, it appeared in my hands, just as the Adept uttered her spell.” Avery wrapped the scarf around his hand as if binding a wound. “I believe this is how it is done?” He took Holly’s wand in his bound hand and pointed it at the turf. A wide spark erupted from it, making a small explosion at Everett’s feet. Even Grandor leaped back.

  “But Everett, why’d you need that?” Ben asked, forgetting Avery for a moment. “Why wouldn’t it just work?”

  “Because he stole it,” Holly said suddenly. She looked at Everett, remembering. “You did, didn’t you? You stole it that day at Mr. Gallaway’s!”

  “He gave it to me!” Everett said. “Do you think you’re someone special? I’ve known him for ages! And I can do a lot more than that rubbish you do! You couldn’t even rescue us!”

  “Hey, she tried the best she could!” Ben shouted. “At least she didn’t go making friends with the enemy, like some people!”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? At least I was doing something!”

  “Enough!” Grandor’s roar silenced even the birds in the forest canopy. “I have heard all I care to from this traitor.” He lunged at Everett, grabbed him by the arm, and threw him to the ground. He snatched the wand from his hand and planted one boot on Everett’s back, pinning him there. “As it should have been from the beginning,” snarled the knight, raising his sword. “For the glory of the kingdom!”

  “No!” Holly cried.

  “Wait!” Ben shouted.

  But before Grandor’s sword could do its royal duty, a great thundering came down the forest path and the knight was knocked to the ground. Ranulf, still clad in chain mail, slashed at Grandor with his sword.

  “Now is the time, my lady,” muttered Jade, and streaked in a blur of black fur across the clearing.

  “Halt! In the name of the king!” cried Avery. His horse, startled by the centaur, shuffled back and forth; Avery brandished the wand. A broad fireball burst from it but missed Ranulf by a good margin. Instead it set a nearby tree ablaze from crown to roots.

  Grandor was on his feet again, dueling with Ranulf. The two swords flashed back and forth so fast that Holly was blinded as the sun glinted off of them. She cried out as Grandor cut a long slash in Ranulf’s flank, but the centaur ignored it, pushing the advantage of height and weight. But where was Jade?

  She peered through the dust and horses’ hooves at Avery’s black stallion. She could see the prince waving the wand wildly over his head; Ben was struggling with him now, kicking and elbowing him. A great roar went up as the wand struck another tree and it lit up like a giant candle. The fire began to spread, and the smoke thickened. Holly coughed, her eyes stinging; then Avery screeched.

  Through the haze she could make out Jade, like a black weasel, scrambling up and down Avery’s back. The prince howled as the cat’s claws raked over his face. Crack! went the wand again, and a pinwheel of flame spun down the hill into the valley.

  Their valley.

  The beech tree.

  Holly pulled on the chains, her wrists straining against the manacles. But the iron cut into her skin, holding fast. The tree . . . They had to get to their portal. . . .

  Then she heard a yell. It was Ben.

  “I got it! Let’s go!”

  Together he and Everett appeared out of the smoke at her side, Ben waving the wand over his head. “Holly! I bit him! I bit him! I’ve got the wand!”

  “But what good does that do?” Holly cried. “I need to unlock these chains! I can’t get loose!”

  Everett looked at the wand longingly. “Can’t it . . . I don’t know . . . become a key again?”

  “That’s not how it works!”

  “My lady!” Jade fled through the smoke and appeared like a ghost, his fur covered in ash. “The knight has fled, and Ranulf after him. You must hurry to the portal!”

  “But how? What about what Almaric said? The bones—”

  “Lady Holly,” said Jade, “recall what you told us—keys are for unlocking things!”

  Ben thrust the wand into her hands.

  But could she do it? The energy had drained out of her lik
e air from a balloon from the strain of transporting herself and the boys, along with Avery and Grandor. She pointed the wand at the manacles. It shook in her hand.

  “ ’Tis only one lock, Lady,” Jade whispered. “You have the power for that.”

  If she didn’t take off her own hands while trying. The thickening smoke stung her eyes; her head ached and her knees trembled. She might have the power, but what about the focus Almaric had talked about? She touched the wand tip directly to the irons and closed her eyes.

  The heat pressed in on her. She smelled live trees burning, a sick scent somehow different from the odor of autumn bonfires. But she couldn’t think about that. Jade was right; this was her spell, the one she had felt in her heart from the beginning. She would have to make it work. She took a deep breath, envisioning the iron chains lying broken on the forest floor, her hands strong and whole and free. Just one lock. That’s all it would take.

  “Osclaígí!”

  Holly knew at once it had worked; the irons trembled as if made of silk and fell apart. Holly broke away from the tree, staggering, dizzy from the effort. She turned to Jade.

  “You have no time for farewells, Lady Holly.” The cat’s voice was raspy with smoke.

  Holly felt tears pricking her eyes. “Just go, Jade, before the whole forest catches fire.”

  “Holly!” said Everett. “The tree!”

  “I know, I know.” But she couldn’t help it; she scooped Jade up in her arms and kissed him, in a most undignified manner; he struggled for only a moment, then allowed her to set him down. He bowed. “Until we meet again, Lady Adept.”

  “Holly, come on!” Ben was tugging at her hand. She glanced back at Jade and blew him a kiss, then turned back to the valley.

  But the valley was in flames.

  Chapter 44

  * * *

  Through the Fire