And then there was her father. If she didn’t leave to rescue him soon, who knew what might become of him? A question entered her mind then and she nudged the swelter cat, who sat curled beside her.
“Tobias,” she said. “How does one get into Inveress?
Tobias stirred sleepily. “Within the void, Inveress suspends. The manner of your arrival all depends.”
“Depends on what?” Brinley shook her head. “Never mind. How are [we] going to get to Inveress?”
The Swelter Cat sat up and yawned. “That which once led above, now leads below. The broken bridge, is the way we’ll go.”
“The bridge to nowhere?” Brinley said. “Are you sure? But it’s broken. There isn’t even any mist at the top! Won’t we just fall off the end?”
“So it would seem to the simple mind. That is why Inveress is hard to find.”
“How will we get back though?” Brinley asked. “Does the bridge work both ways?”
The Swelter Cat shook his head. “The bridge only works one way. Without a way out, you’ll have to stay.”
Brinley frowned thoughtfully. “The summoning bell,” she said suddenly. “That could bring me back out, couldn’t it? I mean, it brought me all the way from another world.”
Tobias shrugged. “Cyus said you would not stay, but he did not tell me the way.”
She nodded. “It must be the summoning bell.” She leaned back against the low stone wall at the edge of the bridge. There were so many unknowns, so many things that she could not control.
At that thought, she pulled Maggie’s button out of her pocket. The world might fall apart, her mother might die, Shael might return, and Hugo might be lost, but as long as Brinley could find a bit of spare time while she was trying to save the world, at least Maggie wouldn’t have to freeze to death when winter came.
Brinley checked the sky. How long had they been waiting? She was tired. Tired enough to sleep, but she knew sleep was a bad idea. She dreamed nearly every time she slept now, and this would be a terrible time for dreams. She flexed her fingers, trying to wake herself up, and then tried to think of a way to start a conversation with the group, but nothing came to mind. They were all lost in their own thoughts, it seemed. Lost, the way you get in dreams…she wished she had a safe place to dream, a place where nothing could follow her. A place where nothing bad could get in.
Brinley stepped through sleep to the halls of her palace on Calypsis. They seemed to go on forever: halls of white stone and golden floors that were warm under her feet, and door after door that opened to new sights, each more beautiful and wondrous than the last—hanging gardens of purple vines and vivid blue pools of clear water, kitchens full of all her favorite baked breads and fresh fruit (she thought she could hear her dad whistling somewhere, just around the corner, most likely making pancakes), a corridor with curved walls and ceilings all painted with birds that looked so real they almost sang, and a dark room larger than the night itself, where the sun was a lamp in one corner and the floor was a beltway of stars.
As she walked, she heard knocking. It was quiet at first, barely noticeable, but it grew louder and louder as she continued. Finally she gave up on her walk and returned to the front door. Who could it be? she wondered. Who could bother her here? This place was safe. As safe as the inside of her own head—safer, maybe. She opened the door, and the man with the head of a snake stared back at her.
“Let me in,” he said.
“Why?” she whispered, hiding behind the door as she looked him up and down. He looked more tired than evil now that she saw him in the light, but she still didn’t trust him.
“You have to let me in,” he said.
“To Calypsis?” she asked. “Why?”
He shook his head. “To your mind,” he said. “I can’t help you unless you let me in.”
“Help me with what?” she asked.
“Everything,” he said. “Don’t you need help? Your mother sent me.”
He drew a silver pocket watch out of his pocket, checked the time, and began to swing it back and forth casually. She had seen that before, hadn’t she? A silver orb swinging back and forth, back and forth? A pocket watch? She shook her head. The only one she knew with a pocket watch was Archibald, and this person was certainly not Archibald.
The man checked the time again, his snake tongue darting out his mouth, nearly licking the face of the watch. “Won’t you let me in?” he said.
She eyed him cautiously. “You don’t look like someone my mother would know. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I am here.” he said. “You said yourself that this place is safe. Nothing can harm you here.”
She thought about that for a moment, then slowly opened the door the rest of the way. “That’s true,” she said. She stepped back and let him in.
Brinley jolted awake just in time to witness a tall young man with a light beard stumble through the gray curtain of mist. It had to be Lignumis. Hugo said that he was coming.
“Lignumis?” Animus said, catching the younger mage by the shoulders and holding him steady. “Lignumis, is that you?”
***
The man called Lignumis nodded slowly, staring at the ancient mage. “Animus?”
Animus chuckled, and the sound of it did something to relieve the tension that had been building up among the waiting crowd. “You look different,” Animus said, clapping Lignumis on the back and bringing him forward. “Grown up, I dare say, and about time, too.”
Lignumis gave a weak smile. “You look the same,” he whispered.
Animus laughed again, and Brinley felt herself start to smile. Animus had a wonderful way of making people feel courageous in terrifying situations. Hugo was still in there, doing who knew what. They didn’t even know if he would make it back. She clutched her bag between her fingers. He had taken the naptrap—no, Molad had. That was in the Ire, too. What was he doing with it? It was all that she could do not to rush back in there herself. She was eyeing the medallion still clutched in Lignumis’s hand, but Animus took it from him before she could decide what she wanted to do.
The ancient mage took one look at her and tossed it back through the mist.
“Was that wise, Animus?” Cassis said, cringing. “We don’t know who might be there. Anyone could pick it up.”
Animus swept the onlookers with a stern look, holding up a finger for emphasis. “We do know,” he said. “Hugo is still coming. We have to trust that. We have to believe in him.”
The crowd was silent. Nobody knew what to say, probably. Brinley certainly didn’t. He was right, of course. Animus was usually right. Deep down, they all knew that their fate rested in large part upon the head of the Mage of Light and Darkness. That was the way it had always been.
But in the past, things had always gone wrong. The Magemother had been there to save them all last time. But what could Brinley do? She was powerless, especially now that Animus had thrown the medallion back through the portal. There were no others. According to Cannon, Hugo—or Molad, rather—had thrown the first medallion over the edge of the bridge on the other side. All she could do now was wait like everyone else and hope that Hugo knew what he was doing. Not a pleasant thought, since he had made some bad decisions lately.
“Magemother?”
It was Lignumis. He was standing alone now, hands folded awkwardly before him, as if he was unused to being around so many people. How could she have forgotten him? She had gotten carried away in her own thoughts again, when she should have been caring for another. She felt selfish.
“Lignumis,” she said, holding her hand out to him. “I know I’m not the Magemother you remember, but I’m very glad to see you. We have much to discuss. Are you all right?”
She indicated a line of blood on his neck. It was bleeding in a steady, slow stream.
“Ah,” he said. He put a hand on it and came away with red fingers. “Yes. Gadjihalt wanted to make sure Hugo did not try to escape.”
“Where is he now?” Bri
nley asked. She couldn’t help noticing that every eye was trained on Lignumis now, every ear straining to hear them.
Lignumis hung his head and began to speak.
Brinley felt her last vestiges of hope slip away as she listened to his story. He told them how Gadjihalt had taken them to the Panthion. He told them what Shael had demanded and how Hugo had bartered to save him.
“He’s going to imprison him?” Brinley asked, horrified.
“Are you saying you actually heard Shael’s voice?” Animus demanded. “He spoke from within the Panthion?” The mage’s face was a mix of worry and consternation.
“Did you see an army?” the captain of the guards asked, pushing Cassis aside to get a better look. “Is he going to send troops across the bridge? Did you find out how he has been crossing it?”
Lignumis’s eyes went wide with panic. “Thousands,” he whispered.
“Thousands?” the captain demanded. “Are you sure? Have you seen them with your own eyes?”
Lignumis paled searching for words.
“He spoke from within the Panthion?” Animus repeated. “He has been leading his troops this whole time?”
“Hush!” Tabitha yelled. She stepped around Brinley and placed herself between Lignumis and the others, hands on her hips, face determined. “You’re scaring him half to death. One at a time, or no one at all. Brinley first,” she said, motioning them away. “Give them some room. Go on. Shoo!”
Brinley covered a smile. “It’s okay, Tabitha,” she said. “Why don’t you take Lignumis down to the medical tent and have that cut looked at? You can bring Cannon back with you when you come, and then maybe Lignumis will be ready to answer our questions.”
“What are you going to do?” Tabitha said to Brinley, taking Lignumis’s arm.
“We are going to wait for Hugo,” she said firmly. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” But she didn’t feel sure. What if Hugo couldn’t get away? What if he really was forced into the box with Shael. But why would Shael want that? What did he gain by it?
“Hugo may make it out yet,” Animus said, reading her thoughts.
She looked at the ancient mage, searching his face for the same fear that she felt. “Do you really think so?”
He looked down. “We must hope.”
The man called Lignumis ducked out of the back of the medical tent as soon as no one was looking. That apprentice, Cannon, was being treated for hypothermia. Luckily, he was serving as a convenient distraction.
He made his way as quietly and quickly as possible down the streets of Ninebridge. Soon, he found himself alone on a dark street and changed shape, becoming a mangy gray dog. He sniffed the air. She had to be close. She was supposed to be in this part of the city. There was once a time when he could smell a witch a mile away, but that was before.
He found her in the basement of an old church. It was the type of place where you might expect to find an old woman selling used clothes for pennies, which was apparently the exact front that March had set up for herself.
He crawled through a half-open window and padded across a dingy floor, skirting racks of clothes as he went, leaving dirty paw prints on the floor. He found her at last, scowling down at him with those squinty eyes. She seemed about as pleased to see him as he was to see her, which is to say, not at all. But desperate times called for disagreeable company.
She glared at him for a long moment, perhaps wondering if he was a dog she could kick out of her home or an ancient sorcerer that had just enough of his power left to make it unwise to kick him. He waited longer than was necessary, letting her squirm. Finally, the Janrax turned back into himself. Not the tall, oak-bearded mage that he had been playing, but the thin, ancient wisp of a man, skin black, features rotted with age, his back bent nearly in half by his long years.
March breathed a sigh, whether of relief or disgust, it was hard to tell. “It’s you again,” she said.
“Indeed,” he muttered. He dug in his pockets and held out the things that Hugo had given him, one in each hand, a small crystal vial and a piece of bark from the twistwood tree, wrapped carefully in the cutting of Gadjihalt’s shirt so as not to touch his skin. Even for him, powerful as he was, that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I followed the boy mage as we planned. When the moment came, I impersonated the Mage of Wood and led him to Shael.”
March surveyed them thoughtfully. “The Mage of Wood. Yes, that was wisely done. From within the circle of mages it will be easy for you to strike at them when the time comes, and as we both know, there is no chance of them finding the true Lignumis.”
“Those were my thoughts as well,” he said. Then he offered her the items he had been carrying. “He gave me these to take to the Magemother.”
“Bark,” she said. “From the twistwood tree? Why?”
He shrugged. “Said he wanted his revenge on Shael later. Said the girl would be expecting it, too.”
March frowned. “Perhaps you should deliver it to her, then. They can talk to each other over great distances, it is said. It’s possible he told her that he was sending it with you. We wouldn’t want to risk her suspecting who you truly are.” She waved away the piece of bark, and he replaced it carefully in his pocket. “And what of this?” she said, taking the vial out of his hand. “Well, I don’t believe it.” Her face broke out in a grin. “This is the work of that fool sister of mine. One of her specialties. Naptraps, I think she calls them…used to transport her stupid creatures from one place to another or some such. What would the Magemother want with it?”
“Don’t ask me,” he said. “The boy didn’t tell me. Seemed awfully worried about it though. Made sure I knew to give it to her.”
March cocked an eyebrow. “And did he say she was expecting this too?”
“No. Just told me to give it to her.”
March smiled. “Let’s keep it, then. See if you can find out what it is. It might be something important. Tell her you don’t know what she’s talking about if she asks you. How could you? Hugo never even mentioned it to you.”
“I know how to play my part,” he said with a sneer. “I don’t need pointers, least of all from you.”
“Time will tell,” she said dismissively. “How is your other work progressing?”
He smiled. “Very well. The Magemother took her haunt, just minutes ago, in fact.”
“Then the way is clear for you to attack the others,” March said. “You must be quick. We have only days before the attack. You had better get back now before they wonder where you have gone.”
He shifted and became the dog again, then turned on his heel, dodging a kick from March as he padded out of the room.
***
Brinley’s head snapped up when the next person stepped through the mist.
It wasn’t Hugo. She didn’t know who it was, for she could not see his face. He wore black clothes that draped about his frame loosely and made him look bigger than he already was, and a black hood over his head with holes for his eyes. It took a moment of him standing there before everyone realized what had happened. A few people, like Tabitha, had nearly drifted off to sleep while they waited, and they were most surprised to look up and see the great hulking shape standing so close to them.
The man had no weapons, only a small black box held between his large hands. It was the size of a shoebox, made of smooth black metal that did not reflect the light. He bent forward very carefully, almost gingerly, and set the box on the ground in such a way that made Brinley think it must have weighed a great deal. Then he pulled out the gold medallion that they had thrown through the mist for Hugo and set it on top of the box. Setting his boot against the box, he pushed it over the line of warding, then backed away without a word and disappeared into the mist.
Everyone exhaled at the same time. “That was unexpected,” Cannon said, shifting beneath the warm blanket that he had brought from the medical tent.
“Cryptic,” Archibald murmured, staring intently at the box.
“There’s a
note.” Animus said, and he picked up a small black roll of parchment from off the top of the box.
“What does it say?” Tabitha asked.
Animus’s eyes danced across the page, his frown deepening the longer he read. Finally, he read the note aloud:
***
Magemother,
I, Shael, have taken Hugo Paradise, Mage of Light and Darkness and heir to the throne of Aberdeen, into my custody. Unless you open the Panthion and release us both in three day’s time, he will be destroyed.
The inhabitants of the Ire are in turmoil. They seek to escape from their confinement and wish to overrun your land.
If you choose to release me, you have my word that I will return peacefully to the Wizard’s Ire and maintain order there so that our two lands may continue to live together in harmony.
If you do not, the whole of the Wizard’s Ire will move against you.
I trust that you will make the right decision.
I place my fate into your hands.
***
Nobody spoke.
Slowly, every eye turned to Brinley. “Hugo is in there?” she said softly. “In there with him?”
Animus picked up the box with some effort, examining it. “This truly is the Panthion,” he said. “Who is inside, however, there is no way to tell.”
“Without opening it,” Archibald muttered.
Lignumis was on his feet. He pointed at the Panthion. “That’s the box that was talking to us. A voice was coming out of it, talking to Hugo. It said that it was going to take Hugo inside.” He looked down. “I thought that he would get away. I thought that he was bluffing when he agreed to go in there, so that I could go free.” He sat down, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Brinley placed a hand on his shoulder, slid it down his arm, and pulled him gently to his feet again. “I want to show you something,” she said. She turned him around and began to walk him down the bridge. The rest of them followed silently, not knowing what else they should do. Animus brought up the rear, his expression dark, the heavy box floating before him on a cushion of air.
Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages) Page 55