“Yes,” she said. “It will be easier now that Belterras is out of the way. He would have been keeping a close eye on the dragon before. Now the way is clear.”
“A dragon could help in the battle,” the Janrax observed.
“A dragon could help before the battle,” March said. “I do not intend to let the King of Aberdeen live to fight this war. You will stop the mages, I will kill the king, and before three days are gone my father will be free of his prison. The world will be ours once more.”
Chapter Two
In which Cannon does something quite brave
Brinley sat alone in a tall canvas tent at the foot of the Bridge to Nowhere, eyeing it thoughtfully through a slit in the fabric door-hanging. The bridge lay on the outskirts of town, rising out of the green plain like an invitation. If everything went right, it would lead her to her father and a means of protecting the people of Aberdeen…if everything went right. Her main source of information about Inveress was Tobias, a fairy-tale cat that served an outcast god and had been cursed to forever speak in rhyme. Not the source she would have picked, and he was often less than helpful. Was she a fool, then, to believe his words and risk so much on this journey?
She dismissed the thought. Animus agreed with her plan. She started to reach out to the mage with her mind. He had missed the meeting earlier to deliver Belterras to Maggie’s cottage. Now he was combing the countryside for the Janrax—hunting, as he called it—on his way back to Calderon. There, he would assist in the evacuation of the city. She wanted to speak to him, ask him for his reassurance, but she stopped herself. After briefing the mages about the attack on Belterras, Animus had told them to refrain from contacting each other with their minds until the Janrax had been caught. Brinley wondered how much of that was because of her. Her mind had been infiltrated. She was a part of the problem. She smoothed her shirt, feeling dirty.
Tabitha parted the hanging and stuck her head in, tangled brown braids dangling beside her face. “He’s here,” she said.
Brinley stood. “Send him in.”
Lignumis entered. He was a young man, barely old enough to grow a beard. His kind expression failed to cover an otherwise ragged appearance. The more time he spent with his fellow mages since his return, the more withdrawn he became. Today he seemed downright hesitant in her presence. On the previous day, when she had tried to restore his power in a more public setting, he had asked her to wait, to give him time, but now she could wait no longer. She needed the mages to be strong, ready to fight in the battle that was sure to come when she opened the Panthion.
Almost without thinking, she reached out to brush his mind. She was curious to discover the cause of his unease. Once again, there was nothing there. It was as if he did not exist. She straightened uneasily. Was this another blockade? Another wall put up by the Janrax? It didn’t feel like it, but the effect was the same.
The mind link that she shared with the mages was the most basic and essential power of the Magemother. What would happen if she could not evict the Janrax from her mind? What other changes had he made in her? A sudden thought startled her: What if she were unable to give Lignumis his power back at all? Her mother had told her that restoring the lost mage’s power was essential. What would happen if she failed? For one thing, she would be unable to heal her mother.
She cringed, thinking of the naptrap. Her mother was frozen in time, sealed away in a magical vial to preserve her until all of the mages could be gathered together to heal her. Now the naptrap was lost. Hugo had it, she guessed. Molad, in control of Hugo’s body, had stolen it from her and then disappeared into the Panthion. She had not seen it since. The thought of her mother being locked inside the Panthion with Shael was torture. She prayed that he would not discover that she was there.
“Please, sit,” she said, forcing herself back to the moment.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this in private, Magemother,” Lignumis said, taking the chair in the center of the room. “I know that it was not convenient.”
“It’s no trouble,” Brinley assured him. “I should not have asked you so quickly before. Are you ready now?”
“I think so,” Lignumis said. “I’m just…worried. I still don’t feel quite like myself, to be honest. I think I lost something, some part of me, when I was hiding all that time in the Ire.”
Brinley nodded. “It must have been terrible, spending so much time in Shael’s own land, with all that evil around you. It would have surprised me if you were entirely unscathed.”
He nodded and sat in the chair. She placed her hands on his head and said firmly, “Lignumis, by the power vested in me as the Magemother of Aberdeen, I give you dominion over the living flora of Aberdeen—all plants, great and small—weed to reed, thistle to pine, rose to redwood. Receive now your stewardship, and serve your kingdom well.”
Brinley closed her eyes, waiting for the feeling that she knew would come, but it did not. When Lignumis’s power had been taken away from him and placed on her own shoulders, it had been like a sudden weight. Now the other mages helped her carry it, but it should have passed from her to him the moment the words were out of her mouth, as it had for Unda and Chantra. She frowned and said the words again, but nothing happened.
Lignumis put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all my fault. I knew this would happen! There’s something wrong with me, Magemother. I knew it. I’m…broken.”
“Lignumis!” Brinley exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “You are not broken. Don’t say such things! We’ll get through this together. I’m sure that everything will be all right.”
“But I need my power back,” Lignumis protested. “I am going to need it if I’m going to help fight in the battle. We only have two more days!”
“Two and a half,” Brinley corrected gently. “And that will be more than we need. I’m sure things aren’t as bad as they seem.”
But as she spoke, her mind was racing. What was wrong? Was it him, or her? Had her problem spread this far? How was she going to find time to figure this out when she was leaving for Inveress? Unless…“Lignumis,” she said, “come with me to Inveress.”
“Inveress?” he said.
Tabitha’s head popped through the tent door. “You should come, Lignumis. We would love to have you along.”
“I would love to have you along,” Brinley corrected.
Tabitha folded her arms crossly.
“Anyway,” Brinley grumbled, turning her attention back to Lignumis. “I would like you to come. We can figure this out together, but only if we are together.”
“Very well,” he said. “When should I meet you?”
“Sundown,” Brinley said. “Meet us at the top of the bridge.”
He nodded in defeat, and Brinley placed an encouraging hand on his back as he shuffled out of the tent. As he neared the entrance, the Mage of Water stepped through. For a moment, they stood, face to face. Then Unda said, “Sorry to disturb you, Magemother. I didn’t realize you were with someone.” His eyes lingered strangely over Lignumis as he backed out of the tent.
“No matter,” Brinley said, waving him in. “Lignumis was just leaving, as my Herald might have told you, if she noticed you arriving.” She aimed this last part at Tabitha, who still had her head sticking into the tent. Tabitha threw her hands up in resignation and withdrew.
Unda held the door-hanging open for Lignumis and stared at him silently until he was gone, then turned back to Brinley. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Animus is. There is an urgent matter that I need to speak to him about, and since we’re not allowed to communicate in the usual manner…”
“I see,” Brinley said. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Animus is in the forest of Gan-Gara. He is taking the long way to Calderon, hunting as he goes.”
Unda’s face fell. He studied Brinley for a moment, weighing something in his mind. “I had hoped to speak to him before you departed. There is something…on my mind.”
�
��Maybe I can help,” Brinley said. “What is it?”
“Probably nothing,” Unda said. He considered her thoughtfully a moment. “May I ask what you and Lignumis were discussing?”
Brinley cocked her head. “I have decided to take him with me to Inveress.”
Unda nodded as if he had expected this. “In that case, I would like to come along as well,” he said.
Brinley frowned. “You have important things to be doing here, Unda. Animus is going to need your help with the preparations. If I could, I would leave all of the mages here. As it is, Lignumis needs my attention.”
“Does he?” Unda said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, so do I.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Unda scratched his chin. “There’s something wrong with me, I think. I’m feeling…rebellious. You see, I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”
“You see?” Tabitha said, bursting into the tent again. “Now Unda wants to come. And I’ll bet you let him, too, even though you won’t let me!”
“You’re not going?” Unda asked Tabitha.
“No,” Tabitha shrilled, turning her back to Brinley. “She won’t let me. She has other things for me to do. Less important things.” She shot a dark look over her shoulder.
“I see,” Unda said. “All the more reason for me to come along. You can’t have too many people along on these sorts of trips, especially if there might be danger.”
Brinley squinted at him. From what she had gleaned about him thus far, the Mage of Water was a careful person. She sensed that when he made up his mind about something it would be difficult to change.
“Fine,” she said. “You can come.”
“Good,” Unda said. “I will meet you on the bridge.” And with that, he left them.
Tabitha cleared her throat when he was gone. “I’m glad to see that you’ve finally decided to be reasonable and let me come along,” she said.
“No,” Brinley replied automatically.
“Aha!” Tabitha exclaimed, leveling a finger at her. “So you admit that you’re not being reasonable!”
“I need you here. I need your help with my plan, remember?”
Tabitha winked at her. “Your secret plan?” she said slyly. “Your secret plan that no one knows about but me and Animus?”
“Yes,” Brinley said. “Plus, Animus might need your help. It won’t be easy to gather every person in Aberdeen to this city in two days.”
Tabitha seemed to think about this for a moment. Finally she said, “But I am the Magemother’s Herald, Brinley. That means that I should always go with the Magemother.”
“No,” Brinley said patiently, “it means that you should always do what the Magemother asks.”
Tabitha stared at her blankly. “That’s ridiculous,” she said dismissively. “I’m coming. If Lignumis and Unda get to go, I get to go. Plus, what if you get into trouble?”
Brinley laughed. “Why is everyone so worried? The only person in Inveress is Cyus, and he’s not going to harm me. He sent for me! My father is there too, I guess. You don’t think my father will pose a threat, do you?” She put her hands to her face in mock fright.
Tabitha folded her arms stubbornly. “You don’t know what you’ll find there, Brinley, and that’s a fact.”
Brinley gave her a shrewd look. “You’ve been obsessed with Inveress since you were a child. I think that’s why you really want to go.”
Tabitha grabbed both of Brinley’s arms, and her eyes opened so wide that Brinley thought she looked quite insane. “YESSS!” she groaned desperately. “You know what Inveress means to me! You have to take me. I’ll lose my mind if you don’t.”
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
The two girls spun around at the new voice to see Cannon grinning at them from the doorway.
“Tabitha’s not insane yet, Cannon,” Brinley said matter-of-factly. “But she will be this evening when she stays here.”
“Well, looks like your next appointment is here, Magemother. I’ll be waiting outside,” Tabitha huffed, storming out of the tent. She spun around as she left and tried to slam the hanging shut, but it just waved back and forth, making her grumpy face flick in and out of view. A second later she stuck her head in again and pointed to Cannon. “He had better not be going too!”
Cannon looked amused. “I sense that I have interrupted something,” he said. “Shall I come back later?”
“No, no,” Brinley said. “Tabitha’s just angry with me, because SHE’S NOT COMING WITH ME TO INVERESS.”
“YES I AM!”
“Anyway,” Brinley said, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap, “thank you for coming. Do you know why I asked you here?”
“Not a clue,” Cannon said, draping himself casually across a floor cushion.
Brinley pursed her lips. “I see. Cannon, you know that I have the Panthion in my possession.”
“Of course,” he said, straightening up.
“Do you know where I keep it?”
He gave her a hurt look. “Well, I trust you keep it hidden somewhere safe…”
“And you know that Hugo is locked inside of it with Shael,” Brinley continued.
Cannon’s face fell. His voice lost its luster. “I do.”
Brinley cocked her head. “And how do you feel about that?”
Cannon’s serious look vanished, replaced by nonchalance. He shrugged. “He just can’t stay out of trouble, that one…”
“Cannon!” Brinley exclaimed. “You know very well that Animus has been keeping the Panthion for me. I know that you know, because he has caught you trying to get inside it. Twice!”
Cannon’s face flushed. “Well,” he stammered, “I promised Hugo that I’d do everything I could to help him. He’s in there, all alone, you know, and I just thought he could use a friend…” He trailed off awkwardly, then set his jaw, determined not to be embarrassed.
Brinley relaxed. “I was thinking the very same thing,” she said. She leaned over and drew a black box from behind her chair. The Panthion. It was about the size of a shoebox. The smooth black sides looked like stone, but were much stronger and lighter. It was mage steel, forged by the previous Mage of Metal. She shivered when she touched it; it was cold to the touch, and altogether lighter than it looked.
“You…what?” Cannon mumbled, staring at it.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Brinley repeated. “Cannon, I’m the Magemother.” She tapped the lid of the box. “The first thing that I wanted to do when I found out that Hugo was trapped in here was to go in after him.”
“Well,” Cannon said, looking up at her, “that wouldn’t do much good.”
“It would be like locking the key inside the safe,” Brinley agreed, “since I’m the only one who can let people out.”
Cannon cleared his throat tentatively. “But I could go in…”
Brinley nodded. “Yes.”
“I want to go in,” he said, looking slightly surprised at himself.
Brinley reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for that, Cannon.” she said. “You are a true friend to him, and to me.”
“You’ll let me?” Cannon said. “Animus is okay with it?”
From outside the tent, Tabitha snorted. “He said you’d end up doing whatever you want, no matter what his opinion is.”
“Tabitha!” Brinley snapped.
Cannon waved a hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “He’s right.”
Brinley nodded and set the box on the table beside her before reaching into her pocket. She pressed a smooth black stone into his hand. “Take this to him,” she said. “It’s something I gave him before. He left it by accident, or Molad threw it away, I don’t know which. It may help him.”
“What is it?”
“Just a stone,” she said. “Cassis taught me how to put things inside stones. Memories, feelings. When I gave it to him, it was filled with peace.”
“And now?” Cannon asked. “What did you put in
side it now?”
Brinley glanced down at the stone. “Myself,” she said. “I put myself inside it.”
Cannon nodded. “That’s exactly what he’ll need.”
Brinley blushed. “I hope so,” she said. “Sometimes children go places their mothers cannot follow. The important thing is that they bring some part of us with them, to help them find their way back…”
“Right,” Cannon said. “I’ll make sure he gets it.” He cupped his fist around it firmly.
Brinley threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Cannon.”
“Are you crying?” Cannon said. “That doesn’t inspire much confidence…I’m not going to die in there. I’ll break him out, you’ll see.”
“I know you will,” Brinley said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She moved to the other side of the table and tapped the lid of the Panthion. Tabitha snuck under the curtain to watch.
Cannon reached for the lid and then snatched his hand back. “I’m not going to accidentally let Shael out, right?”
Brinley shook her head. “It is only an entrance. The lid only reveals an entrance to those who open it.”
“Except for you,” Cannon surmised. “If you lift the lid, it really opens up, right? So I should open it now, since if you did, Shael would pop out and…that would be bad.”
Brinley gave him a weak smile. “Right. That would be bad.”
Cannon took a deep breath and opened the lid. He peeked in tentatively. “Huh,” he said, reaching his hand inside. “It just looks like an empty bo—”
Before he could finish the sentence, he vanished. There was no flash, no peal of thunder or puff of smoke. He was simply gone.
The Panthion sat on the table, open and menacing, and Brinley resisted the urge to look inside. She thought that it would be safe for her to close it, but the idea of even touching it while it was open made her feel uneasy. What if she accidentally released what was inside?
Tabitha held up a hand and stepped forward. She brushed one finger delicately along the back of the lid and pushed. It snapped shut with the finality of a coffin.
Tabitha sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said. “First Hugo, now Cannon.”
Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages) Page 60