Twisted Legends: Twisted Magic Book 4

by Kaye, Rainy

  Every few feet, I dared a peek at the army, but they continued to march on toward a nearing forest. Gray mist hovered over the top of the trees, down to about shoulder level.

  Something new at every turn, these pocket worlds.

  As we reached the forest, the army veered toward the pools. Randall and I watched, barely breathing, as they stomped through the water and approached the boulder pile standing in the pool against the sheer rock wall.

  Their leader ducked between two boulders propping each other up, and his army fell into single file as they followed after him. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t a magic act; the boulders were piled up around a cave entrance.

  After the last of the soldiers filtered inside, I waited, my hand on Randall’s shoulder, to give them a head start—or handle any unhappy creatures that might be trying to get some sleep inside.

  Several long moments past, though I doubted if it was enough time, and then we crept forward, returning to the open as we stepped down into the pool. A frog-ish creature popped up right next to me, seemed as surprised as I was, and then dropped back down. A dark shadow indicated him swimming away, kicking his little back legs.

  At the boulder pile, we pressed our backs to the rock. Nearby, something creaked in the forest.

  I crossed that off my list as a place to explore.

  As I had Sherlocked, the boulders led into a cave entrance, half blocked off by the unfortunate positioning of the boulders. It had been enough for the man and his army to get through, though.

  I went first, sucking in my stomach, though there would have been enough space for me to pass without doing so. Randall ducked in behind me, touching the top of the cave entrance as we took in the enormous room inside.

  Glowing blue spheres of fire hung in the air, illuminating the walls and floor. They were similar to the ones that had lit the tunnel in New Orleans. Everyone was using the same interior designer these days.

  The army was nowhere to be seen, and no sleeping bears rested inside.

  So far, so good.

  A tunnel opened on the far side of the room, and I started toward it. As I passed the center of the room, the walls flickered and murmurs filled the air.

  My heart dropped to my boots.

  On the walls, movie clips flashed, and with them, seconds of conversations. The snippets blurred together into an unintelligible, yet familiar, stream.

  A second later, I knew the story being told.

  “That’s me,” I said, looking at no one frame in particular as pieces of my life displayed on the walls for all to see, and then disappeared, only to be replaced by another.

  I couldn’t quite take them all in as an entirety.

  Intriguing, but I hadn’t come for movie night.

  As I continued toward the tunnel, the projections halted. A new round began when Randall reached the midpoint, but this time with his point-of-view as the star.

  He scowled at the pictures before they disappeared as he came up behind me, and then shook his head, all the way down to his shoulders.

  “What the actual fuck, right?” I said, glancing at him. “I didn’t expect a home movie in here.”

  He snickered as he followed me into the tunnel. A single row of those blue orbs hung like hovering pendant lights in a long line down the length of the tunnel, which was convenient, because no light from outside could possibly reach this place.

  We walked in almost-single file, shoulders brushing together as we kept close, cramped up and in each other’s personal space, if such a thing existed anymore.

  The tunnel sloped gradually uphill and twisted around, and around, climbing higher, until it was less of a tunnel and more of a natural staircase.

  Talking sounded in the hallway from up ahead, and we squished tighter together, waiting. Our panting breaths filled up the space around us.

  I didn’t dare to speak, afraid my voice would travel and alert the soldiers to our presence close behind. We just had to give them a little more of a lead.

  The talking grew farther away and faded out. After a moment, we inched forward, in the direction they had gone, our soles barely leaving the hard-packed floor. Hopefully, wherever this tunnel exited, there would be ample places to hide.

  Or at least one.

  We followed the tunnel as it continued to lead upwards until sunlight ahead beat back the blue light. The tunnel opening fit one person at a time, and provided no shelter to sneak around and check our surroundings before emerging.

  As we stepped out into view, I already envisioned flattening the army with an earth-trembling blast of magic. I couldn’t be choosy if they decided to turn on us.

  We entered onto a grassy field that led right up to a coursing river so wide I couldn’t see anything but a treeline on the other side. The red stone archways towering above us stretched out, leading down the river in either direction.

  “We must have reached the top of the waterfall,” Randall said. “I think the fortress is that way.” He gestured to the left.

  Before I could respond, the rattling footsteps marched closer. I looked back and forth, trying to determine which way they were headed, which way to run.

  Randall yanked me back into the entrance of the cave as the soldiers marched across the top of the archways, heading toward the waterfalls—and fortress—the pristine man in front. From their view on top of the archways high above, they couldn’t see us huddling in the tunnel entrance.

  “There has to be some way they got onto the archway from the other direction,” I said in a low voice to Randall. “Right?”

  He nodded. “Seems so.”

  Once the last of the soldiers passed, we scurried out of the tunnel and through the grass, the opposite direction of the falls. The grass had been trampled and all but obliterated, the sign of dozens of heavy feet having recently crossed through here.

  A red stone pathway appeared on the bank of the river, leading to steps that jutted out of the water, rising higher until it met with the nearest archway. A matching set led up from the opposite bank and met with the parallel archway. The two sets worked as a bridge that ran lengthwise down the river, toward the fortress.

  We took to the stairs, the stones slick with water and nearly invisible moss. I could just envision slipping and bashing my jaw before tumbling into the river.

  We made it to the top, and the archway bridge proved to be drier and easier to manage. Even though the sides were open, the path was wider than it had looked from the ground and provided plenty of room before risking plummeting into the river below.

  The fortress came into view, and I gripped my hands together. Despite the unfortunate destruction to one side, the structure was still grand. I could nearly hear and smell and taste the otherworldly history wrapped around it, and it seemed as if the collapsed side would heal itself in time, that something this magnificent couldn’t be scarred forever.

  We followed the bridge until a staircase at the end let us off onto the rock ledge, the fortress a stone’s throw away. Below, the waterfalls rushed downward, and they must have grown by miles since we had been at the bottom. The view over the pools below and the forests to the right and cliffs to the left seemed fake in their majesty.

  An iron portcullis over an entrance to the fortress had been drawn up, hanging like a guillotine, beckoning us to tempt fate by passing underneath it.

  This wasn’t the destroyed side of the fortress, but from here, it seemed the entire structure tilted at a slight angle, toward us.

  I held my breath as we passed under the raised gate, into the fortress walls. The ground was paved with dust-covered bricks, and empty open-aired shops lined either side. It would have felt like any other outdoor market, except for the towering walls of the fortress blocking it in.

  In between the empty stalls, enormous carved sentinels stood at attention inside alcoves. Even though their shallow-etched eyes contained no pupil, they appeared to be distinctly watching the street below—and us.

  A familiar
hoarse voice boomed down the wide corridor. “I told you to find him!”

  A crash followed.

  “We have reason to believe he fled to the forest,” a woman said, her voice ringing clear, like a chime down the road.

  The army must have halted just out of sight, to the right.

  “We have crossed every inch of this forsaken island, twice,” the leader said, his voice a roar of unhinged fury. “He is not here.”

  “Sir,” the woman said with practiced patience, “there is no way he could have escaped. The tower would not allow it.”

  The tower. She must be referring to the Dark Lands. Had the point of that hellish landscape been to keep the keys inside this pocket?

  “He has betrayed the consortium,” the leader said with a growl. “The quorum will see fit to answer for their crimes, each and every one of them. He will not be spared.”

  I grimaced, curling down my bottom lip. Randall looked slightly pale.

  What had the keys done? What did this man want with them, exactly?

  Furthermore, hadn’t Joseph been part of the quorum? Did they know he was, well, dead?

  Did it even matter?

  “The dogs have found nothing in the fortress,” a man spoke up. “If he was here, they would have found him.”

  Dogs. Great. They have their own K9 unit.

  The problems, however, were quite a bit bigger. They had swept the island—and this fortress in particular—more thoroughly than Randall and I would ever be able to, and yet they had not found the keys. We had no hope of locating them ourselves, but we couldn’t return home without them. Otilia had been clear: there were only two ways into the vault. Her secret entrance had long been inaccessible, since she had managed to play the world’s worst Easter egg hunt by hiding, and then losing, the passage, and no one would ever be able to find it again. Only her own magic could detect it, and her magic had been erased as punishment for refusing to imprison Yuto.

  Probably by this nice guy just ahead, out of sight.

  The other way into the vault was how it was designed—with the two keys. Somehow, Thing One and Thing Two could work together to magically unlock the vault.

  Now they were missing. If we didn’t find them—and soon— Nikandros and Uwe would be out of their portraits with renewed vengeance, and I couldn’t possibly stop them again. I barely had the first time, and I would have no element of surprise on them anymore.

  No, we had to find the keys.

  I scanned the wide empty fortress street.

  Wherever they were.

  I turned and headed down the walled-in street, away from the rampaging voice and the ones trying to soothe him, probably before he blew up the place entirely.

  I hoped for the keys’ sake we found them first and escaped before these men in white got their hands on them. I couldn’t quite reconcile why the leader of the army had a vengeance against the keys, but that would be a riddle for another day.

  Our soles scuffed against the red brick pavers, and I tried to walk toe to heel to mute my footsteps, but it slowed progress too much. With any luck, the leader of the army was much too busy having a tantrum to notice any sounds that carried as we picked up our pace toward a scalloped opening in the right of the wall.

  We darted through it, into a green field with towering red walls on every side. A long marble pavilion stretched out to the left, its heavy carved roof held up by ornate columns. Something important must happen there, but right now, it was empty. In fact, the entire fortress seemed to be abandoned, save for the army within the walled street.

  Up ahead stood a large building with domed towers and arched windows. It had been beautiful once, but fire scorched one side.

  The fortress had been stormed with a vengeance.

  More structures loomed up and then faded away as we hurried across the courtyard, headed toward the far red walls. I slowed, tempted to make out what each of the buildings could be, but forced my attention away. We didn’t have time for sightseeing.

  Besides, maybe these buildings didn’t count as true history, but were to ancient fortresses as was the Luxor to Giza.

  Sounds travelled toward us, from behind, and I recognized them as I turned around. The army had regrouped and was marching out of the scalloped doorway, heading across the field, led by their lavishly-plated leader.

  Only by their sheer numbers did we see them before they saw us.

  I hissed, not forming any real word, and took off for the wall, veering toward another scalloped doorway. Randall was right beside me as I stepped into the line of sight of another row of carved sentinels guarding the walled-in market on the opposite side of the fortress. This part of the street proved to be empty as well, but lingering vibrations sparked over my skin, history not quite finished.

  I shook off the thought as we made our way to another raised portcullis and escaped outside, on the far side of the fortress from where we had entered, just as the shout of the leader approached.

  We stood on the rock ledge high above the waterfalls. Options were few. We could jump off the side of the falls, except we weren’t idiots. Not that much, anyway. Another set of slick stone stairs led up to the archway bridge that ran parallel to the one we came in on. Following that would lead us down river, and then across to land.

  Randall started for the steps seconds before I did, sealing for me that I hadn’t overlooked any option. My legs wobbled as I took to the stairs, and not just because my soles couldn’t quite grip the rock well enough. Behind us, I thought I could make out the marching footsteps of the soldiers nearing as they made their way across the courtyard, in the direction we had gone. They hadn’t seemed to have noticed us yet, and I had high ambitions of keeping it that way.

  We crossed the archway bridge, and I was keenly aware we were in full view of anyone who happened by. There would be no place to hide. If the soldiers exited the fortress before we made it to the bank, we would be sitting morons.

  Right before we reached the end of the bridge, the head of the slithering army poked out from the fortress. My body seemed to stiffen and loosen at the same time as I wobbled down the steps onto the grass. I swung behind a tree trunk, dropping to the ground as my chest struggled to expand. Unless we had failed to notice another secret passageway, the army would have to head down the bridge, following right in our path.

  At the base of the fortress, they began climbing the stone steps to cross the river the long way. In moments, they would be on us.

  Barely glancing at Randall, I struggled to my feet and staggered as fast as my swirling mind could urge my legs.

  What would happen if the army caught us? Did they oppose Otilia and would crush us just on merit? Or was that old news, but our desire for the keys directly at odds with theirs?

  There was something else, related but different, gnawing at my mind too, but I couldn’t spare it any energy just yet. Not when I had to focus on getting away from an army that may or may not find our presence to be distasteful.

  When the vanilla scent tickled my nose more forcefully, I realized I stood just inches under a ceiling of the fog that had been hanging over the top of the trees at ground level. The fog filled the tops of the forest up here too. I couldn’t tell if the sauntering, rolling mist was responsible for the strangely pleasant aroma, but I wasn’t about to suck in a lungful, either.

  Randall stooped a little to avoid touching the cloud as we made our way deeper into the forest. The trees tightened together, bare spots filled in with spiky bushes, and soon we had to turn and twist our way through the plants. I brushed back twigs and ducked under low tree branches, trying to keep out the creamy vanilla scent that continued to catch me by surprise.

  Forests didn’t often smell like cupcakes, but this one did.

  The buzzing sound I had picked up ever so briefly when we first entered this pocket floated by me again. This time, I was sure it wasn’t just exhaustion toying with me.

  I grabbed Randall’s arm and hissed, “There’s something nearb
y. Be careful.”

  “You mean the soldiers back there?” He indicated back toward the fortress. “Or a new and exciting threat?”

  “That one, the last thing,” I said, batting at a thread of fog curling toward me. “What is this stuff?”

  “Finding out is very far down on my to-do list,” he said, tone even, as we trudged onward.

  He didn’t touch his sword. It wouldn’t do anything against the army to our back or the fog dancing above us.

  I just hoped my magic would. As in the Dark Lands, my magic circulated through me like blood here, too, though I wasn’t sure how much damage I would cause if I shook the ground a bit. If the army caught up with us and proved to have conflicting views, then it might become necessary to find out.

  “Didn’t Otilia say keys? As in, more than one?” Randall asked, voice low. “There’s two, right?”

  The thought that had been troubling me since we entered the fortress, when I let it, came to the forefront.

  “Oh.”

  He was right. Otilia had said there were two keys to open the vault, but the leader of the army kept referring to a singular person. Had Otilia forgotten to clue us in on one tiny detail—that the keys were in different pockets? Had one been back in the Dark Lands?

  Could no one tell us anything straight?

  Irritation bit at me, but I flicked it away. I didn’t have time to be huffy, even if I had the right to be. Regardless of semantics, at least one key was supposedly in this pocket, or had been, and that would be one key more than we had when we arrived here—if we could find him.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” I said, trying not to sound as annoyed as I felt. “One problem at a time. It’s—”

  Tendrils shot out of the ground, jutting skyward, all around us. Dirt flung into my face and pelted my back. I screamed as a tendril struck, coiling around me, binding my arms to my side. To my left, Randall had been sufficiently subdued in the same manner. I jerked and twisted against the hold, hair in my face.