“Nay,” said Jeb. “But yer right in thinking that I was comin’ here meself when I met up with ye. I brought these for him. Needs ’em for research, he says.”
“Then why such a high price for bringing us?” Hugo said, sending a longing glance in the direction of his sword.
“‘Cause of the high risk,” Jeb said, nodding. “And ’cause ye were willin’ to pay. I can always spot someone what’s willin’ to pay. Rare in these parts.”
“Does he live here?” Cannon asked, staring around at the empty land.
“There,” Jeb said, indicating the rock. “Where Shael’d never look for him.”
“Why?” Hugo said. “I mean, why wouldn’t he look there?”
“‘Cause no one could live in there,” Jeb said. “Cursed place, that is. The Wells of Blood, they call it, ’cause Shael struck the ground, all in a rage, the day he was first imprisoned here. They say his wrath left craters in the earth, so he covered them with this rock so he wouldn’t have to look at them and remember. There ain’t not but howlin’ in there, they say. The howlin’ of his soul. Nothin’ but howlin’ and dry, dead air, dead as his eyes. And deep wells in the ground, big ol’ gaping holes full of nothin’ but pain. Pain what makes your eyes go red just to look at it.”
“Red in the eyes?” Hugo said, rolling his own at the melodramatic description.
“Aye. That’s what they say.”
“Then how does Lashé live in there?” Cannon asked, staring up at the rock apprehensively. “It sounds as if a man would have to be crazy to live in a place like that.”
Jeb shrugged. “He does.”
Jeb loaded half the apples into a giant sack and hefted them onto his back before leading them to the rock. It was larger than it had looked from the water. Much larger than Caraway Castle, in height at least, though Hugo could not tell from this angle how deep the structure was.
Jeb led them up a lightly trodden path to a crack in the side of the rock that looked barely wide enough for Hugo to squeeze through.
“Not much of an entrance,” Cannon muttered.
“This be as far as I go,” Jeb said, setting the apples down against the stone face of the rock. He pointed at the crack. “Lashé’s just through there, more or less. Never been inside meself. Didn’t like to take the risk. I should tell ye, Lashé’s about as likely to help ye as he is to kill ye, so watch yer words. And take this token.” He handed Hugo a withered apple core. “This will let him know that yer not a spy. Good luck.” With that, Jeb took off down the path, presumably to gather the rest of the apples. He moved with a slow, limping stride, and his left boot clicked against the ground with a dull metallic sound. Click, shuffle, click, shuffle, click. Hugo stared after him for a moment, then glanced down at the apple core in his hand. Apart from a large, crusted white something plastered to the side, it looked entirely normal. “Ugh,” he said. “Looks like a bird has been using this as a toilet. Is he serious?” He handed it to Cannon for inspection.
“Serious, yes,” Cannon said. “Sane? Hard to say.” He tucked the apple core into his pocket, and Hugo gave him a look.
“Just in case,” Cannon said. He stepped back from the crack in the rock wall and held his hand out in invitation. “After you.”
“Kind of you,” Hugo muttered, and stepped inside.
The moment he entered the rock, Molad shifted restlessly in Hugo’s mind.
Can’t you hear it? he cried. There was excitement in his voice. Pleasure, even.
What? Hugo returned, looking around curiously, but all he saw was a small cavern, dimly lit by light that filtered through the rock above.
Pain! Molad said. Anguish! Revenge!
Molad pressed up against Hugo’s mind eagerly, and Hugo nearly pressed back, until he realized that his darker half was not trying to force his way out, but push something into his view. Hugo accepted it, and instantly the sound of a terrible, mind-numbing howling filled his ears. He felt his heart tense at the sound, afraid that it might scar him somehow, so full of pain and rancor it was.
“Can you hear it?” he asked Cannon.
Cannon nodded. “Barely,” he said, “but it’s there.”
“I can’t hear anything else,” Hugo said, wincing. He pressed his hands against his ears and then remembered that he didn’t have to be listening to it. He pushed the sensations back to Molad.
If you like it so much, you keep it, he said.
Immediately the sensation dissipated and the world became normal again. A smile crossed Hugo’s face at the thought that he had actually used Molad for once, instead of the other way around. His darker half was effectively acting as a shield for him.
“Do you hear that?” Cannon said as they followed the tunnel deeper into the rock.
Hugo strained for a moment and then noticed it.
Drip. Drip. Drip. “Yeah, but why here of all places? I don’t see any water.”
Cannon shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a mystery we’re going to solve. Look at this…”
Before them, the mouth of the tunnel opened into a large area with several wide holes in the rocky floor. From above, reddish light filtered through the jagged clefts in the ceiling.
“Anybody in here?” Cannon called. His voice echoed around the room in a way that made the hair on Hugo’s arm prickle.
Hugo stepped to the edge of the nearest hole and looked over. Immediately he stumbled backward, gripping his forehead at the pain that was lancing through it. It filled his vision with red.
“Agh!” he said. “That lunatic wasn’t joking. Don’t look down there.”
“Is there blood?” Cannon said curiously, inching to the edge. “He called this place the Wells of Blood.”
“I think that’s because it turns your brain to blood when you look in there. That’s what it feels like.” He blinked several times in an effort to return his vision to normal.
“I’ll bet Shael really did pour all his anger into this place,” Cannon said, rolling his shoulders uneasily. “Glad we came here. Lovely spot.” He glanced around the space again. “Lashé?” he called in a commanding tone, and his voice echoed back several times.
Lashé.
Lashé.
Lashé.
Lashé.
Hugo froze. The last echo did not sound like Cannon’s voice at all. One look at Cannon’s face told him that he had heard it too.
A faint shuffling noise drifted up to them out of the nearest well, and Hugo had to restrain himself from looking over the edge. Then something else joined it: a clicking noise. The noises alternated slowly. Click, shuffle, click, shuffle, click. Suddenly, the top of a head cleared the edge of the well before them and Jeb rose slowly into view. He walked slightly away from them, following the inside curve of the well, and Hugo realized that he must be walking up some sort of spiral path that jutted out from the wall of the well. When he made it to the top, he turned to face them.
“WHO CALLS FOR LASHÉ?” he bellowed. His voice filled the cavern, and Hugo could tell that it must have been magically amplified.
“It’s us, Jeb,” Cannon said. “Don’t you remember us from a moment ago?”
“Spies, no doubt,” the other man said, raising a hand curiously and stepping closer.
“Crazy after all,” Cannon whispered.
“Cannon,” Hugo whispered back, “I think Jeb is Lashé.”
Cannon frowned, but shrugged his shoulders as if to say that anything was possible.
“Lashé?” Hugo said. “As fellow enemies of Shael, we have come seeking your aid.”
Lashé stopped. “How can I trust you? Do you have a token?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Cannon said, but he took the apple core out of his pocket and tossed it across the room.
It landed at Lashé’s feet and he picked it up carefully. He sniffed it, then took a bite (which made Hugo grimace). Then he nodded in a satisfied way and tossed it over his shoulder into the well. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, smi
ling enthusiastically. “Very well, boys, very well. What can I do for you?”
“You?” Cannon repeated incredulously. “What about all the ye’s and the aye aye’s earlier? Do you expect us to believe that you are Shael’s great enemy?”
“I had to get to know you, didn’t I?” Lashé said. “Now, tell me what it is that you want.”
“We want to get out of here,” Hugo said. “Is it possible?”
“For one lowly wizard?” he said, indicating himself. “No. But for two wizards, and the Mage of Light and Darkness, I think it might be, yes.”
“So you know who we are,” Cannon said. “Who are you?”
Lashé waved a hand dismissively. “You have my name. If you do not remember it, then you have not heard of me. I lived long before you were born. I was one of the first wizards trained by Maazan Dow. Shael was a young man back then, and we were not enemies as we are now. I have been locked away in here for much longer than you have been alive.”
Hugo frowned. That didn’t seem like a very clear answer, but it would have to do for now. He didn’t want to risk offending the only person who might be able to help them get out of the Panthion.
“I have a confession to make,” Lashé said, stepping closer. “I have been observing you since you entered the Panthion. I, like Shael, pay close attention to these things, as you might imagine.”
“And?” Cannon said.
“And I have not seen any hint of magical power from either of you.”
Cannon nodded. He flicked a finger through the air and made Lashé’s hair breeze out behind his head as if he were standing in the wind. “We thought that it would be better to keep a low profile on our way into Shael’s fortress. We thought that we might be able to sneak into the Mechanism.”
“Oh?” Lashé said. “And how did that go?”
“Not well,” Hugo admitted.
“And you,” Lashé said, turning to him. “Let me see your power.”
Cannon cleared his throat. “Bad idea,” he whispered.
Lashé glanced back and forth between them. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s the darkness,” Hugo said. “It will take me over if I use my power, I think. I tried earlier, and it didn’t feel safe.”
“Bah!” Lashé barked. “Power is never safe. This won’t do at all. We’re going to need your power if we are to navigate the Mechanism. You’re in luck, though. I know a thing or two about darkness. I think I may be able to lend you a hand in controlling yours for a time.”
“You do?” Hugo asked. He sounded doubtful.
“Oh, yes,” Lashé said, sweeping his comment aside and putting an arm around each of their shoulders. He began to lead them toward the other side of the chamber, weaving through the wells as he went. “I lived in Aberdeen in the days of Taluva, the first Mage of Light and Darkness. Back then the mages were not so secretive. He taught many of us about the truths that he had learned.”
“But Taluva fell,” Hugo said.
Lashé cleared his throat. “I didn’t say he got it all right, did I? Do you want my help or not?”
“He does,” Cannon said at once, and Hugo glared at him. “Well, you do. We’re going to need all the help we can get if we’re going to get out of this place.”
“Indeed,” Lashé agreed. “And we don’t have much time. Shael is planning something. I don’t know what it is, but it is going to happen soon, and I would rather be gone before it does.”
“When do we start?” Hugo asked.
Lashé grinned. “Right away. Lucky for you, I’ve been working on a plan for years. Made a couple of escape attempts, actually. Just couldn’t get very far on my own. Should be a different story with your help. First things first, we have to teach you how to control that monster in your brain so that you don’t get us all killed.”
“Excellent,” Cannon said. “I can’t wait to see this.”
Lashé gave him a sympathetic look. “That’s too bad. You’ll be busy doing something else.”
“What?”
Lashé dug into his pockets and produced a small, ripe apple. He tossed it to Cannon, who caught it. “Preparing our secret weapon.”
“Apples?” Hugo guessed.
Lashé grinned conspiratorially and slipped back into his fake accent. “Aye. They be Shael’s favoritest food, ye know. And I grow the best in the land.”
***
Lashé led Hugo and Cannon through a series of winding tunnels that led deep into the Wells of Blood. Finally, he announced that they had reached the center, and the tunnel opened into a wide, open-air bowl ringed by high rock walls. The stone beneath Hugo’s feet gave way to natural, grass-covered ground as Hugo stepped out of the tunnel, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The open-air enclosure had an almost peaceful feeling compared to the tunnels. At the center of the bowl, at its lowest point, there was a small stand of apple trees. There couldn’t have been more than twenty altogether, but Hugo could tell that each one was meticulously cared for. An intricate series of nets had been strung from tree to tree so that any apple, when it fell, would be caught before hitting the ground. Hugo stared at them curiously.
“You wouldn’t want one of the best apples in the land to be bruised, would you, Hugo?” Cannon said, as if reading his mind.
“Just so,” Lashé said, leading them toward the apple trees. “Cannon, while I work with Hugo, you will make sure that no such thing happens.”
“Pardon me?” Cannon said.
Lashé pointed to the high red wall of stone opposite the one through which they had entered. “Hugo and I will be going up there to work. While I am gone, you must tend the apple orchard.” He led them around the edge of it to a small wooden cart, from which he took a leather-bound book. He opened it and handed it carefully to Cannon. “Here is the orchard, see? Every tree is drawn in detail, and beneath each tree is written the spells that you must perform on it. Can you pronounce the incantations?”
Cannon squinted at the tiny lettering beneath one of the trees on the page, biting off a piece of the apple that Lashé had tossed him earlier and chewing as he thought.
“Crio Cryo Capridaeo, voltesgaella od,” he said. “Does that mean poison or a plague? This language is archaic.”
Lashé snatched the book back and closed it with a snap. “And your pronunciation is poor. But I expect that we will just have to make do, as I cannot tend the trees and fix a mage at the same time.” He drew a short, odd-looking wand out of the cart next. It seemed to be made solely of apple seeds, though how they had been glued together with such precision, Hugo could not tell.
“Place the tip of the wand against the bark of the tree as you speak its incantation.” He pointed it at Cannon. “And for goodness sake, make sure that you speak the appropriate words for each tree. Before you move on to the next tree, hold your hand out under each apple in turn, so that if it wishes to drop, it may do so.”
“They drop into your hand on command?” Cannon said incredulously.
Lashé raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”
“But what are the nets for, then?” Hugo asked.
“Just a precaution. These apples are all designed to do different things. Some explode, for example. You can see why an accidental fall to the ground would be catastrophic.”
“To the apple or the orchard?” Cannon asked. He laughed at his own joke and took another bite of his apple. Abruptly, he spit it back out. “Lashé, this isn’t one of your apples, is it?”
“No, no,” Lashé said. “Purely for research.”
As Cannon finished his apple, Lashé explained that it was too late in the day to make the climb that he had spoken of earlier. They would begin Hugo’s training in the morning. When offered the choice between spending the night in the bowl or back outside with him near the Wells of Blood, they both chose to sleep under the trees.
“We’re not actually sleeping under the trees, are we?” Cannon murmured as Lashé pushed his wooden cart back toward the wall.
“Are you crazy?” Hugo said. “I’m keeping my distance from those things.”
“I wish I could,” Cannon grumbled.
Lashé returned a while later with bread and cheese, fruit and water, and ate with them in the evening light, but there was very little conversation as his mind seemed to be preoccupied with some problem with the apples.
“Stink apple’s wrong,” he mumbled when they pressed him for information, but he would say nothing else. He took up the tray of food again before they were finished and bid them good evening.
When he was gone, Hugo said, “Can we trust him?”
“Hard to say,” Cannon said, lying down on the soft grass. “He is definitely crazy, and I find it hard to believe that Shael doesn’t know about him. It’s not like the Panthion is a big place.”
“But can we trust him? Have you heard of him before?”
Cannon hesitated. “No. But that does not mean much either way. The early wizards were poor historians.”
Cannon was quiet for a minute, then he said, “You’ve become much more adept at controlling Molad. I thought when we came in here, you might lose it again.”
“I have, haven’t I?” Hugo said. In truth, he had surprised even himself. “I don’t know if it’s all me though,” he admitted. “It’s almost like he’s stopped struggling. Ever since we escaped, it’s almost like he doesn’t care anymore.”
“Like he’s changed his tactics?” Cannon said.
Hugo was startled at the thought.
Cannon turned to him. “Hugo, when you were, uh…unaccounted for, back in Shael’s fortress, he spoke with Molad for a long time, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Did you?”
“No,” Hugo said. “I didn’t hear anything clearly until the stairs right before we made our escape. You don’t think they’re planning something, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Cannon said. “But it would make sense.”
“But that could mean they let us escape, even wanted us to escape. It could mean they wanted us to come here as well. But why not just keep us at the fortress?”
“Okay,” Cannon admitted, “that part doesn’t make sense.”
Hugo sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to trust Lashé and see where it goes. I don’t see any other options, do you?”
Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages) Page 72