by Kaleb Nation
It was a gasp, from across the room. His heart almost stopped.
He looked up, and there was Adi, standing behind the desk, pale and lit by a single lamp. She was staring at them, her face filled with shock.
"Bran?" she gasped. He only stared back, feeling the blood run from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out.
"What’s happened?" Adi gasped, but the moment the words left her mouth, the entire front of the bank exploded.
Chapter 30
Fire and Books
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Bran could feel the flame coming at his back; he could see it reflected in Adi’s eyes. He could sense it behind him, and in a split second, as the bricks and wood and metal blew inward toward him, he leapt to the side, hitting Astara, both of them falling to the ground.
He heard it going over him, rushing like a train over his head. He could feel the dust; he saw Adi falling. He saw the windows blown away as the front wall of the building on both sides of the doors exploded into flames, and behind the explosion, he could see the shadows of two men, stepping toward the openings they had just created.
Before Bran could react, he felt rough arms seize hold of him, slamming him against the wall. Astara was pushed next to him, then Adi, all three of them lined up.
Joris held Bran, pressing his lips against his ear. "Thought you could get away, did you?"
He tightened his fingers around Bran’s arms, like claws that threatened to tear his flesh. "No one escapes: not your mother, not Clarence, and not you either."
"But I’m the one you need alive," Bran said through clenched teeth.
"We’ll see how close we can get with you as well," Joris said. He turned to Craig and Marcus, holding Adi and Astara against the wall with their pistols drawn.
"We’re going back to the bookstore, across the street," he hissed. "There’ll be police crawling all over this bank in five minutes."
Bran was pushed toward the doors. The doorway was there, its frame still intact, but on both sides, where the windows had once been, there was nothing but bent pieces of the frame of the building, parts still smoldering from the fire. Bricks hung loosely at the sides, glass broken in everywhere, and dust and shrapnel thrown through the walls and onto the sidewalk. Both sides were left to nothing but gaping holes. Adi coughed as Craig wrenched her around to follow.
"Wait, please," she said. "If you want the bank’s money, I’ll get it for you."
"I’m afraid you’re mistaken," Joris hissed. "I don’t need more money. I need this boy."
Suddenly, Adi jumped away from Craig, jerking something out before they could react. She held it out in front of her, brandishing it, and Bran saw that it was her wand. But in the same instant, before she could even call a single magic, both of the bald men reacted, their wands out and leveled with her. It caught her by surprise, and she froze. Joris jerked Bran closer.
"What is this?" he hissed at her. Adi’s eyes were wide, her wand shaking. "You drop that or they’ll kill you, mage," Joris said through clenched teeth.
Adi hesitated, looking at Bran, and what she held in her eyes
made his heart wish he was anywhere else but there. She was
terrified for her life.
"Put it down, Adi," Bran finally said. "He’s right."
She swallowed hard, debating, but finally she dropped the wand. Instantly, Joris took it.
"Put her in magecuffs," he ordered Craig. "That will keep her silent until we get across."
Adi didn’t fight them, even as Craig slid the handcuffs over her wrist. He spun a dial on them, and she didn’t make a sound, but in a second, all strength seemed to fade from her face. She stumbled, unable to stand, and Craig caught her, holding her tightly as they stepped out.
They crossed the street, but there were no cars. Part of Bran wished the police would show up or someone would see, but he knew none of the shops were open that early and the police wouldn’t arrive in time. They were pushed down the alley until they reached the bookstore. The door opened when Joris pushed on it. Bran guessed it was still unlocked from when the men had kidnapped Astara.
There was a small lamp in the middle of the floor, which Joris turned on, and it cast light in a circle about them. Bran was forced to stand, and Astara was shoved across from him. Craig pushed Adi into a chair and wound the handcuffs around it so she couldn’t move. The others stood guard with guns and wands, keeping them from any method of escape.
Joris spun to Bran and held his hand out. Bran stood there, not sure what to do. Joris insisted.
"Come on, you’re here now," he said. "Hand me the phone."
Bran reached in his pocket and fumbled with it, holding it out. Joris smiled and reached to take it, but with a sudden spin of motion, he grabbed Bran’s wrist and jerked him forward. Bran was pulled from his feet, his arm was twisted behind his back, pain shooting through his nerves like a thousand needles puncturing him at once.
Joris pushed him forward, throwing him to the floor against a crate. Bran didn’t have a chance to catch his balance before his face hit the floor, his arm scraping against the side of a box. He coughed and hit his head, and he felt blood running from his nose. He spun around, trying to stand but falling against the stack of crates. He touched his face and got blood on his fingers.
"So we’re all here now, aren’t we?" Joris said. The lamplight threw shadows under his eyes. "We are all gathered here today," Joris began, "because one boy decided to cause trouble."
"Just take me and let them go," Bran said. "You have what you want with me."
Joris turned to him. "These two have caused enough trouble for me already." He looked at Astara. "You with your knowledge—" He turned to Adi. "—and you for having this wand. I don’t like mages getting involved in things. It gets complicated."
"Listen," Adi said, her voice weak. "Neither of these children have done anything wrong. If you want a mage, I’m the one you need."
"Oh, no," Joris said. "It is him that we need." He pointed the wand at Bran. "That’s the boy who is behind all of this."
"But why do you need him?" Adi asked, her words almost slurring in weakness. Bran looked down, not meeting Joris’s eyes. He felt as if Adi was watching him, looking for answers.
"This boy," Joris pointed with the wand, "is Bran Hambric, surviving heir of Emry Hambric—the boy who was taken and hidden by his mother, hoping to keep him from us." He nodded. "Inside of Bran is something we need, something your MIPs could not find."
He looked at Bran. "Inside Bran is the spirit of Baslyn."
Bran’s gaze met with Adi’s, but then he looked down, unable to hold it.
"You are lying," Adi said to Joris weakly. "Baslyn is dead."
"You know of Baslyn?" Joris turned to her. "Clearly more has gotten out than we thought."
"It doesn’t matter what I know," Adi replied. But Joris slowly stepped closer, until his shadow fell over her. She looked up at him weakly, unable to move as he stared down at her.
"Actually," he said in a deathly voice, "I think it means everything."
Polland jerked awake in bed, sweating. He looked about the room for intruders, his senses immediately alert.
"Who’s there?" he called, reaching into the shadows and curling his fingers around the gnarly edges of his dark, wooden wand. He drew it closer, almost the size of a small knife to him, a tiny green gem on the back end wrapped in root-like twists. Something was not right. He could feel it.
He climbed out of bed, taking his wand with him; he drew the tip of it closer to his lips.
"Silmali felami iensida," he whispered, blowing on the end, and instantly, a small light like a candle flared up within it, illuminating the floor and the plants in a circle around him.
"Working late, is she?" he said. But it had been too long for her to be gone. Something was not right for her to have never come home—something more than what he had thought.
He went through every room in the house, shining his light into every
corner. No sign of Adi. He stopped his search at the bottom of the stairs and slid to sit at the bottom. He blew on his wand again, and instantly the light went out.
"Where are you?" he asked, though he knew no answer would come. He was so worried he didn’t know what to do. Something deep inside of him felt sick, as if there was something deeply wrong going on, and Adi was at the center of it. He looked through the high windows and closed his eyes, thinking. He murmured a few prayers into the air, trying to calm his soul as he sat there, and when he had finished, he lifted his head and knew what he was supposed to do.
"Enough of this waiting," he said. "If Adi’s in trouble, I might as well get into some myself."
He struck off for the garage and threw the door open. It was mostly empty with coverings over the windows so no one could see in. There were a few boxes to the side, and sitting in the middle of the floor was a car, the one they saved for emergencies. It was smooth and small but still much too large for him to drive. He took a deep breath.
"I’ll just have to wear my driving stilts," he said. He opened a cabinet and pulled them out: long, narrow sticks with little shoes on the end to make him taller. He strapped them onto his feet and teetered his way to the car, stacking old phone books onto the driver seat before hopping in. He set his wand in the seat next to him.
"I have a feeling I’ll be needing you very soon," he said grimly as he pulled out.
Joris stepped away, and Bran sat up straighter, following him with his eyes.
"Wait," Bran said quickly. "What are you doing?"
Joris looked at him. "We’re taking you with us."
Craig pulled Bran roughly to his feet, forcing his hands behind his back. Bran fought his arms free, but Joris lifted a finger and pointed at Astara.
"She’s the first to go if you fight us," he said, and Bran stopped and let Craig slip the magecuffs onto his wrists. He tightened them until Bran winced as they bit into his skin, and he felt the weight of the black box on the side, though Craig didn’t switch it on.
"What are you going to do with us?" Astara demanded, standing up. The bald man grabbed her shoulder, forcing her down roughly. Joris looked at her and thought for a moment.
"We’ll be taking you along to make sure Bran stays reasonable," he said. "And with both of you, we’ll get to the border gate and leave this city for Farfield."
Joris kicked the lamp and it shattered, putting the light out. He stopped in the doorway, and Bran looked at Adi, still handcuffed to the chair. There was no strength left in her eyes.
"You," Joris said to her, "are too dangerous to keep alive."
Bran opened his mouth to speak, but Craig grabbed hold of his shoulder to stop him. He was pushed next to Astara in the open doorway. Joris stared at Adi for a few moments, then nodded.
"I think it best to kill you now," he said, with so little emotion it seemed almost as if it was more of a chore than anything else to him. "Then burn this place so there is nothing left."
"No!" Bran said. "She’s not part of this!"
He struggled, but one of the men slammed him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him as the other gave Joris his pistol.
"Sedate those two and take them out," Joris said. Astara fought them and screamed, and the room erupted into mayhem. Bran fought against the handcuffs, grabbing for magic to pull the gun as he fought their hold. But he was already too late, as Craig lunged at him, wrestling him against the wall for the dial on the magecuffs, and in his other hand was a rod with two prongs, energy crackling between them. He touched it to Bran’s skin, and instantly Bran felt energy shoot through him, coursing down his spine and through his nerves, carried all across his body. He went limp, hitting the wall.
He looked back and tried to speak, but nothing would come out. Adi had bowed her head, closing her eyes, as if she had been ready for it, had known the last moments had come. The men pushed Bran toward the door as Joris lifted his gun, striking Adi across the head with it, so that she went completely limp. Then he pulled the trigger, and a single shot rang out.
The sound echoed in the cloud that was drifting over Bran’s consciousness, the men dragging him away, struggling to hold Astara down as Craig pressed the prongs to her arm, and she also went limp. Joris had already turned his back before Adi slumped over.
"Burn this bookstore," Bran heard Joris say, and as his vision faded, he saw the bald men lift their wands from the doorway, and orange flames spew from the tips toward the crates of books. And that was when all around him went black.
As Polland drew closer to Third Street, he instantly knew that something was wrong. From blocks away, he could see flashing lights of police cars. He felt his face go pale when he saw it.
"Adi…" he gasped. He turned the car a street before the bank, getting ready to park it. This street was abandoned, but he could hear the sirens. He hurriedly hid the stilts in the backseat.
"I’ll take the alley," he whispered to himself. "Watch from across the street."
He swept a coat over himself. He reached to take off his cap, but hesitated.
"Come on Polland, you’re over such things…" he told himself. But he couldn’t help looking up and down the street to make sure no one was looking, and then he slid his hat off and threw the hood of the jacket over his head, just in case.
"I’m just a short man, taking a walk," he said aloud. He shuddered and started toward the alley, but then he heard a sound and his shoes scratched to a stop. A van was coming in his direction. He lowered his head and pressed against the bricks, and in a second he began to shrink instinctively, his skin hardening as he did like mud washing over him and drying. He became stone, almost invisible then as a van burst from the darkness of the alley next to him—and when he shriveled back to his regular form, he saw it turning at the end of the street. A black van.
His eyes followed it. He could smell smoke. Something was not right.
He checked the street—no one was coming. Spinning, he dashed into the alley, following what he smelled and going deep into where the van had emerged from.
"I’m coming, Adi," he told himself desperately, praying deep within him she was still alive. He could feel her, a deep connection. He was getting closer. Smoke drifted in the air, and as he ran down the alley he could hear it crackling and burning, steadily getting closer. He began to run when all of a sudden his senses wrenched him around. He stopped—it was a door.
"What?" he asked into the darkness. His senses as a gnome were much stronger than that of others: he could smell the smoke, and as he stretched his fingers out, he could feel heat radiating from that direction. He gritted his teeth and ran into the door, and was immediately thrown backward off his feet. He hit the ground and the air was knocked out of him. Locked!
"No door will stop me!" he challenged, and he grabbed his wand from his coat and lifted it, and instantly the ground next to him crumbled as two giant roots spewed out like hands with a hundred fingers each, the sound of them cracking through the dirt like strings being ripped.
"Seeizu!" Polland ordered, pointing, and instantly the brown roots flew past him, grasping the frame of the door and growing into it with tiny pieces of ivy. Polland tightened his jaw, mustering all the strength he had in his mind.
"Reemovu! " he said, and the roots leapt back, ripping the entire door from the frame. It gave a loud crack as the hinges split, and as the door fell, a burst of smoke poured out from behind it. Polland leapt to the entrance, and the roots slid back as if dead, leaving the door buried halfway. The bookstore was filled with thick smoke, so much that even Polland had to bend over to catch his breath. Flames lit up the room, burning crates like columns of fire.
"Adi!" he called, his face burning in the heat. "Where are you?"
There were several crates gathered around in a circle, burning, some toppled over. He started for them, waving his wand as he did.
"Bimea wirate! " he ordered, and instantly water sprayed from the tip of his wand like a strong hose, rushing over the
fires and calming the flames as he ran. He coughed, and when he came around the corner, he almost stumbled. There was Adi, bound to the chair, blood on her forehead. She was unconscious…or dead. He couldn’t tell.
"Adi!" he gasped. He fell next to the chair, trying to revive her. She was limp.
"What evil was this?" he said, his eyes going wide. He felt a deep anger rise within him. His eyes stung with the smoke and heat. Something fell next to him, and he covered his face with his shoulder, shouting as fiery ash fell around him and burned his skin.
"Come on Adi, stay alive!" he pleaded—though even as he pushed her, she drew no breath.
Sewey woke up with a strange feeling in his bones.
"Great rot!" He jumped out of bed and tore through the house, looking up and down for Bran and Rosie, calling out their names. He lifted every couch in the house and even checked in the bushes. They were nowhere to be found. He made so much racket that Mabel and the children woke up, and they all gathered at the bottom of the stairs in their pajamas.
"Gone!" Sewey said, wringing his hands. "I checked the kitchen, the basement, even the grandfather clock! Bran and Rosie are gone!"
He looked up the stairs again. All of a sudden, the house seemed very hollow, as if their voices were echoing in an empty chamber. Balder and Baldretta looked at each other.
"Well, we can’t just stand here!" Sewey burst. "Now that they’re gone, who’s going to cook breakfast? Who’s going to feed the cat? Who’s going to iron my clothes and get the mail and set the table and wash the dishes and—"
"My goodness!" Mabel gasped. "You can’t expect us to do those things!"
"It’d kill us!" Balder squealed.
Sewey gulped and put his hand on his forehead. He felt sweat forming there just thinking of all the chores in the house.
Come on Sewey, he thought. All you have to do is get to work, and you’re free…
All of a sudden, his eyes caught something sitting on the couch.
"Oh?" he said into the air, and he stepped forward in a great bound and caught it up.