by Brenda Drake
Bastien, who was clinging to the ancient charm book, slid to my side. We searched each picture in the gateway book. We didn’t find Afton, Arik, or Conemar within the photographs. With each flip of the page, my heart sank. Finally, at the back of the book, we spotted Conemar dragging Afton across the great hall of the library in Mafra, Portugal. But where is Arik?
Without thinking, I spoke the key and jumped into the photo. Bastien grabbed my leg and was towed in with me. We flew fast through the dark hole until it deposited us onto a marble floor. He landed on top of me and we tumbled across the floor together. We lay in a heap—legs and arms tangled. The book of charms Bastien held dug into my back.
We had landed in a rotunda that joined two great halls on either side of us. An elaborate cupola stretched overhead. About a dozen windows lined each of the long halls, the moon casting light on the white and gold arches. Each hall was the length of a football field but half the width, and their ceilings were extraordinarily high. There was no movement in either hall.
Bastien rolled off me and onto his knees. “Can you get up?” he asked.
“I think so.” I lifted my head. He took hold of my elbow and helped me to my feet.
“This was planned,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“The book is here in the middle of a hall. It should be by a bookcase. Someone put it here for a reason.”
I spotted someone lying in front of one of the arched windows between the bookcases. “Who’s that?” I rushed to the body with Bastien on my heels.
Arik was facedown on the marbled floor. My chest tightened. I pulled him over onto his back. He bled from a large gash in his head.
I looked up at Bastien. “Do you see Afton?” My voice cracked with so much emotion it scared me.
He squinted as he searched the room. “No.”
Arik’s eyes fluttered open. “The compelled man was right. I failed again. I failed her. Just…like…Oren.”
“No, you didn’t fail anyone,” I said, hugging him. “You were so brave. You didn’t even hesitate. You just jumped.”
He coughed. “Leave me. Save Afton.”
I gripped his arm. “You’re going to be fine. Hold on. You have to hold on for me.”
“You’re such a bother sometimes,” Arik teased, and then closed his eyes.
Bastien squeezed my shoulder. “He’s still breathing. Get up. We can’t let Conemar harm Afton. I found a ritual to send him away, but I need your help to distract him.”
I leaned over and kissed Arik gently on the lips. “Don’t you give up. I’ll be back,” I whispered in his ear and kissed it, too. I pulled his sword from his scabbard, picked up his shield, and got to my feet. “Ready. What do you want me to do?”
“We have to draw Conemar out of hiding.” He gave me a weary smile. “I know you’ll think of something.”
I slid my arm through the straps of Arik’s shield and centered my body. As I inched down the hall, I readied his sword.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, Conemar!” I shouted. “Are you afraid of me? ’Cause you should be. I’m the one Agnost foretold. I’m the end, all right—for you. Let Afton go. She’s just a human.”
The hall remained silent.
“So you are afraid of me,” I baited him. “You’re just a loser! You intimidated Jacalyn, and you betrayed her.” I hoped that pissed him off enough to come out of hiding. Just in case, I added, “Coward!”
Conemar stepped out from behind a bookcase with Afton struggling in his arms. “As I said, I did not betray her,” he said through clenched teeth. “We were betrothed, and she had an affair with that weasel professor.”
Here we go.
I took a deep breath. “Release her, you big dumb bully! Do you always hide behind girls?” Really, Gia? You couldn’t think of anything better? You sound like a second grader.
“I don’t need her. She’s served her purpose—she’s separated you from the others and brought you here to me. Run, you vermin,” he ordered, pushing Afton away.
Afton ran toward me. Conemar raised his hand, and a mix of blue and red lights danced across his fingertips. I had no idea what Bastien was doing behind me, but I worried his plan wouldn’t work.
I switched the sword to my other hand and made a pink globe on my empty palm.
Before Conemar could throw an electric charge at Afton, my globe engulfed her, and his strike ricocheted off it, hitting an iron candelabra overhead. The candelabra collapsed to the floor, sending an explosion of sound reverberating down the great halls. I stuffed two wafers in my mouth.
“Quick reflexes. You get that from your father. Your beauty and brains are from your mother.” He walked down the hall with measured steps.
When Afton reached me, she fell into my arms, trembling violently. “Listen to me,” I murmured. “Run into the other hall and hide. Do you understand?”
She stood planted to the spot. “I can’t leave you.”
I kept alert, watching over her shoulder. Conemar was almost a third of the way down the hall and would reach us soon. I lobbed another globe, and it landed just in front of him. It was like a big splash of Pepto-Bismol. The pink membrane flew up and out, reaching the walls and ceiling, blocking Conemar’s path. He shot electric currents into the pink mass. Ripples ran down it, melting its surface with each blast.
“If you stay, you’ll distract me. Go,” I said sharply.
Afton sprinted to the other hall. I turned to watch her. Bastien was writing something on the ground with blood. Maybe Arik’s?
“What are you doing?” I yelled, horrified.
“The charm requires Sentinel blood. Don’t pay attention to me—do your job.”
“That is so wrong!”
“Watch him,” he yelled back at me.
Conemar had stopped blasting the globe and was studying it. He gave me a treacherous smile. Then he blew across his palm, and a frosty burst of air hit the pink wall. The surface turned to a frozen shell. He punched it, and pink shards shattered to the ground.
“You’re trying my patience, Gia. How about I introduce you to a few of my new friends? They’re newly hatched, so I’m not certain what they’ll do or if I’ll have any control over them. Shall we see? Come out, my pets!” he shouted.
A dozen dark figures sprang out from behind the bookcases and hopped down from the balconies above. Their stench, like rotting flesh, hit me where I stood nearly half a football field away. Black tongues darted in and out of sharp yellow canines. The deformed figures slithered and slinked across the floor, growling and hissing, ending their contorting dance behind Conemar.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Do you like my creations?” Conemar asked. “I couldn’t have made them without your help. Thank you for delivering Ricardo to me. I needed Laniar DNA to complete the transformation. They can crush a man’s skull with their hands. Just think of what an army I’ll have when I’ve changed all the Writhes.”
“You’re crazy!” I chanced a glance in Bastien’s direction. “Hurry, Bastien. Do you see them?”
He looked up from the book and his eyes widened. “Can you block them? I’m almost done!”
“I’ll try.” I turned back to face my impending doom. Nausea curdled in my stomach; the stink of his creatures made me feel faint, but I couldn’t fail now. I willed steel into my muscles.
Conemar was looking pointedly at Bastien. Strange. He didn’t seem to care that Bastien was working on a spell. He had to know it was something that would stop him.
He refocused on me, and I tossed three globes in a row, blocking the hall with a thicker shield.
“I’d hate to kill you. Think of how powerful we’d be if you and Nick joined me.” His voice sounded muffled behind the wall of pink. Conemar attacked the new shield with frosty air. I watched hopelessly as it shattered to the floor.
“Let me tell you Agnost’s true prophecy. Only I know the full version. I killed him just after he scribed it. I wasn’t aware of his false
start on the crumpled paper in the trash bin, or I would have taken it, too. For, when the wizards found it, they knew a child of two Sentinels would bring the coming of the end.
“For an untalented wizard, Ian Sagehill was clever, I’ll give him that. He convinced the Wizard Council to forbid Sentinels from conceiving together to prevent the prophecy. Then he started arranging marriages for the Sentinels. Ian pointed suspicion at me, but they couldn’t prove I killed Agnost. Still, Couve exiled me to Esteril because of that suspicion. It was good for me, since I found Mykyl’s recipe to create my pets.” Conemar snarled at one of the Writhes that broke the line. “Get back, you!
“Sorry for the interruption,” he said with his eyes on Bastien, who knelt beside Arik with his back to Conemar. “Let the boy die, Bastien. You can’t save him.”
Thank God. He hadn’t noticed what Bastien was doing.
Conemar returned to me. “I no longer need you, Gianna, but I want you. There’s a difference between need and want. One you can do away with and still survive. I’m certain if you knew the full prophecy, you’d understand why I’d prefer keeping you.”
Why is he telling me this? He’s stalling. But why?
He pulled a thick aged sheet of parchment from his coat pocket and unfolded it. “Listen carefully. I won’t repeat it.
“From the union of two Sentinels the beginning of the end shall come, more powerful than any that has come before, to lead and guard the one. The dyads from the Seventh move secretly through the gateway door, the knowledge to finding the trinkets filling their minds.”
That must be me, but—
“A High Wizard poisoned by greed seeks to release the four powers of old.”
That’s Conemar searching for the Tetrad.
“An ancient rhyme from a long-ago time will send the evil to a prison where power upon him is bestowed, a price to pay for reciting the charm to avoid harm.”
Ugh. That makes no sense.
“A time will come when the evil one will break free, and the battle begins for the four. Whosoever rules the four rules the worlds.”
Is that now? Or sometime in the future. I struggled to put the pieces together.
“You see, I’m destined to be the ruler. I’m the greediest of all wizards. I just need one of the dyads—an heir of the Seventh wizard—to help me recover the Tetrad.”
Dyad? Ah! It means two. Nick and me. We both can read the chart and find the Chiavi.
Something behind me distracted Conemar.
Bastien stood in the middle of a circle with pie slices drawn in blood, and within each slice, he had sketched a character. The only character I could make out at my distance was a bird. Bastien chanted over his creation.
“I’ll die before I join you!” I shouted at Conemar, hoping to distract him away from Bastien. This time I sent a globe directly at Conemar. He blocked it. For being old, he certainly was quick. But Conemar watched Bastien with amusement, not anger.
“An ancient rhyme from a long-ago time,” I mumbled to myself, repeating Conemar’s words. “A price to pay for chanting the charm to avoid harm.”
Conemar’s grin widened.
“Bastien, stop!” I yelled. He didn’t break from his trance.
Conemar glared at me, his fingertips sparking. “I’m disappointed. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to kill you. Thank you for returning my son, Gianna. From Jacalyn, he is an heir of the Seventh wizard, as are you, but I only need one to lead me to the Tetrad.” He motioned to one of the things beside him.
The creature slithered quickly to me and tackled me to the ground. The sword knocked loose from my grasp and clanked onto the floor. I kept my shield between us. The creature’s foul breath made my stomach heave. It chomped at me, spraying phlegm into my face as it gnashed at my neck. Its toenails scraped against the marble floor. A scream escaped my throat as its claw sliced my shoulder. Pain ran up my neck and warm liquid soaked my shirt and jacket.
I brought my knees up and braced my feet against the shield. Its nails slashed my side. I took in a painful breath and kicked out, flipping the Writhe onto its back.
Grabbing the sword, I leapt to my feet, but the Writhe was faster and it backhanded me, sending me sliding across the floor. I clutched tight to the sword, trying desperately not to lose it. I crashed into the wall, rolled to my knees, and scrambled back to my feet.
The Writhe charged at me. In spite of the pain in my shoulder and side, I lunged at it with my sword extended. The sword sliced through its throat, spraying rancid blood across my face. The Writhe wiggled and released a sound like a siren before it fell still beneath me.
I whirled to face the other Writhes.
Another creature stormed at me. I spun around and faked a blow to the right. The creature went left. I swung left and low, the blade driving deep and across its stomach. Another siren scream sounded, and the creature crumpled to the floor.
“I’m having such fun,” Conemar said. “Let’s see how you handle this.” He signaled two Writhes and they dashed down the hall.
“Shit.” I rushed to the shield and snatched it up, smashing the first creature that reached me in the head with it. I squatted and did a roundhouse kick against its legs, and it toppled down.
The other Writhe knocked me to the ground. The creature kicked me in the gut, punching the air from my lungs. I groaned and tried to catch my breath. It kicked me again, this time connecting with my hurt shoulder. Pain lanced through me, and I let out a horrific scream, locking my hands together behind my neck and moving into a fetal position.
I wanted to give up. Be home. In a reality where none of this existed. But if I failed, Bastien and Arik would be next.
A growl sounded above me, and I rolled away from it. The creature’s claw barely missed me, pounding the floor instead. I stumbled to my feet.
The Writhe’s nails scratched the floor as it got up, and I swung my sword at it. Its severed head thumped to the floor. The remaining Writhe sped toward me. I gripped the hilt tight, cocked my arm back, and thrust the blade up, piercing the creature through the heart. I yanked the sword from its chest. It flopped to the ground and wiggled around on the floor as its earsplitting wail faded.
“Impressive,” Conemar said. “They’ve trained you well.” He raised his hand to send more demon Writhes at me.
I collapsed to my knees. This was it. I was done. My vision blurred and pain screamed across my body.
Behind me, Bastien spoke his charm louder. Before Conemar could signal the Writhes, a glowing ball soared over my head. Then a bright light filled the room like a massive camera flash.
When my eyes came into focus, the hall before me was empty. They’re gone. Thank God, they’re gone. A shaky hand dropped onto my shoulder. I winced in pain.
“You all right?” Bastien said.
“Yeah,” I said, voice shaky. I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. I stumbled to my feet.
Afton rocketed up the hall and into Bastien’s arms. “Oh my God! You did it,” she said with a voice so high and squeaky it hurt my ears.
I dropped the sword and shield. “He did it? He had the easy job.”
Afton’s nose wrinkled. “Eww. Gross. What’s on your face?”
I ran a hand across my chin, collecting dark liquid on my fingertips. “It’s that demon Writhe’s blood. I think I swallowed some.”
“But it’s black.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Yeah, it’s pretty rotten tasting.” Bile rose to my mouth. “Oh man, I feel—” I bent over and hurled the contents of my stomach onto the floor.
Bastien removed his shirt and handed it to me. “Here, use this.”
“Thanks.” I took his shirt and wiped my mouth.
“Gia, you’re hurt. Let me see.” Afton examined the cut through the tear in my jacket. Blood oozed from my shoulder. “You might need stitches.”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” I shrugged her hand away. “Can you check on Arik, though?”
Afton rushe
d to Arik, dropped to her knees, and wrested off her sweater, her shirt underneath pulling up slightly. She tugged it down. “He’s breathing,” she called to us. “The wound doesn’t look all that bad. I think he has a concussion. He must’ve hit his head hard when we landed out of the book.”
Arik was alive. I squeezed my eyes tight. He’d be okay. He had to be okay.
The Writhes’ bodies sprawled across the floor looked like black oozing mounds. Just beyond them, I spotted the yellowed parchment with the prophecy written on it. The paper contrasted against the white marble floor. I limped over to it and picked it up.
“What is it?” Bastien asked.
“You didn’t hear me.” I shook my head as I handed him his shirt. “I tried to stop you from sending Conemar to wherever you were sending him.”
He examined the gunky black blood on his shirt, shrugged, and dropped it on the floor. “Why did you want to stop me?”
“‘An ancient rhyme from a long-ago time will send the evil to a prison where power upon him is bestowed, a price to pay for reciting the charm to avoid harm.’” I read the prophecy on the parchment to him. “Don’t you see? Conemar is in a place where his powers will grow stronger. He’ll return someday.”
“Conemar might’ve been lying to you.”
“No. I’m sure it’s the prophecy. I can’t explain it, I just feel it is.”
“Well, we can have the penmanship tested to determine if Agnost wrote it. While Conemar’s gone, we’ll just have to find the Chiavi and destroy the Tetrad before he returns.” He winked and hurried over to Afton’s side, where she was struggling to rip her sweater to use as a bandage for Arik.
“Yeah right, like that’s going to be easy.”
“Stay positive,” he threw over his shoulder, pulling a pocketknife out of his pants pocket and opening it. He stabbed Afton’s sweater with the blade and ripped it into strips. He handed the longest piece to Afton and she worked at wrapping Arik’s head wound.
Bastien strode over to me with two chunks of the fabric in his hand. “Remove your jacket and top.”
“Bite me.”
“Later, perhaps, but right now, I think I need to stop your cuts from bleeding.”