by Ed Masessa
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Malachai sat hunched over a table, where he had arranged a dozen elements in the order he was to use them. It had taken centuries of research and every bit of his expertise as a Wand Master to identify and locate them. One he’d found in Mexico at the bottom of a cenote—a water-filled sinkhole once used by the Maya for sacrificial offerings. Another he’d located in Burma, in a lost and abandoned temple after months of searching. He smiled as he recalled the tragic deaths of his exploration team in that unforgiving rain forest. If the jungle hadn’t killed them, he would have. There could be no witnesses.
The rarest of the elements was an almost-mythical metal he’d located in a coral reef near an uncharted island in the South Pacific Ocean. For all he knew, this was the last specimen on Earth. Diffluonium was not on the periodic table of elements. Its properties were a mystery … except for one.
For the sixth time that morning, Malachai started, then stopped. Each of the elements needed to be combined in the proper sequence, using a technique that required extreme precision. He knew of only two other times this procedure had been successfully accomplished, and both times it had required the skill of three Wand Masters working in unison.
He was determined to do it alone.
Malachai took a deep breath and plunged into his work. The first six elements combined quickly and flawlessly, as he knew they would. He doubled his concentration. The minutes became hours. The stress caused him to sweat, and he quickly wiped the moisture on a sleeve to prevent it from contaminating the process. He doubled his concentration once more and took a deep breath that he would have to hold throughout the final step. Even the tiniest molecule of dust could make the wand he was crafting worthless. Finally, using every ounce of his power, he fused the diffluonium into the wand. His fingers, where they held it, began to tingle. He gently placed it on the table, where it began to glow with a dim, dark crimson light. A tiny wisp of smoke escaped from the tip.
Malachai smiled.
Ten minutes later, he took a breath.
“Bahtzen bizzle!”
Henry cringed. He knew he had made a mistake the second he squeezed a drop of the yellow fluid into an Erlenmeyer flask. A bright flash and a puff of smoke was a pretty strong clue. Serena and Brianna stifled giggles across the room.
“Sorry,” Henry said.
“SORRY?” Coralis exploded. “Tell that to the small village you just eradicated due to your carelessness. Or to the forest you just turned to stone. Or to the caverns you just collapsed—” The old Wand Master’s rant stopped abruptly as his next words caught in his throat. His forehead creased with lines of sorrow and pain. Silence filled the room for several uncomfortable seconds. Henry held his breath, and he knew Serena was doing the same.
The tails of Coralis’s long black coat snapped as he spun and exited the room at a brisk pace. Henry had seen this reaction enough times over the past year to know their lessons were through for the day.
“Not again,” Brianna moaned. She gazed at the half-finished experiment in her hands. “What’s the use? I’m pretty sure I don’t have any talent anyway. At least he yelled at you this time.”
Serena watched Henry’s pout spread to his shoulders. “It’s not your fault.” She offered a one-armed hug. “How long is it going to take before he’s himself again?”
Henry shrugged. He had no answer to that, because he understood there was no timetable for grief. When they’d defeated Dai She in the Arizona desert fourteen months earlier, Randall had been killed in the process. Once Coralis’s finest apprentice, Randall was the main reason the world was still in one piece.
Coralis had not forgiven himself for what had happened, and occasionally something would come up in casual conversation that would trigger another painful memory. They never knew what would set Coralis off or how long it would take him to recover.
“Help me clean this mess up and we’ll get an early start on the gardens,” said Henry. “Gretchen will appreciate the extra time we can give her.”
“Isn’t today when she plans to try her new fertilizer?” asked Serena as she gave Henry a light jab with her elbow.
“Yes. She’s going to try your fertilizer, which you created, totally by accident.” Henry acted jealous, but they both knew how proud he was of her. He smiled broadly and she turned away as her olive skin turned a slight shade of pink.
Brianna rolled her eyes. “I’m outta here. Enjoy your ‘garden time.’ ” She signaled air quotes with her fingers and smiled mischievously … then squinted in pain. “Ow!”
“Another headache?” Henry started toward her.
She held a hand up to stop him. “I’m okay. Like Gretchen said, it’s probably just growing pains.” Brianna smiled weakly and waved good-bye.
“I hope Gretchen’s right.” Serena took Henry’s hand. “But in the meantime, there’s ‘gardening’ to do.”
Henry laughed. If there was an upside to Coralis’s frequent absences, it was that the time he spent with Serena had been good for them. Aside from having the common link of being uprooted from their homes and sent to a foreign country, they seemed to learn more about their abilities when left alone to figure things out. Serena had once commented how it was just as important to know what would happen when they did something wrong, through trial and error, as it was to learn through careful study. As long as they didn’t blow anything up—which was something Henry was more apt to do.
At times the results even gave Coralis a rare chuckle—like the time one of Henry’s missteps caused a large piece of rose quartz to sprout eight legs and chase Gretchen through the courtyard. The quartztopus was all the ammunition Serena needed for days of relentless teasing.
“Wait a minute! Gardening can wait. Isn’t today Thursday?” Henry asked brightly.
“Detour day!” exclaimed Serena. She took Henry’s hand and pulled him from the classroom.
Castle Coralis was nestled into an area of the Carpathian Mountains so remote that weekly supplies had to be delivered by horse-drawn carriages. Lush forest thick with flora and fauna extended for kilometers in every direction. And this forest had one other characteristic that others didn’t—a personality. Henry and Serena even went so far as to call it Forest, as if it were a person.
Forest seemed to enjoy toying with them. Each e
xcursion presented a challenge. A footpath would be there one day and gone the next; occasionally, a path would close behind them as they walked, sealing them off from the castle and any sign of civilization.
Such was the case today.
They exited through an opening in the courtyard wall that hadn’t been there the previous day. It immediately closed, blocking any hope of reentry. These were the trips Serena enjoyed the most. It was as if the castle and its surroundings were as much an instructor as Coralis was, sending them on journeys of discovery, directing them to explore new, unknown areas. She giggled with the delight of a five-year-old getting her first princess tiara.
Henry forged ahead so she wouldn’t see him smiling at her reaction.
They walked an unfamiliar path for long minutes. Finally, they came upon an open field filled with wildflowers and herbs. On their walks, it wasn’t unusual for them to stumble upon unfamiliar plants, which they would bring back for Gretchen. Her knowledge of botany was limitless and she willingly shared every detail—which plants could be used for healing wounds and ailments, which could be used to add potency to spells, and which were so poisonous that simply touching them to their lips could have devastating results.
The botanical bounty in the open field before them was unprecedented. Nearly every plant was new to them. As the forest path closed at their backs, inviting them to step forward, Serena suggested there would be far too many to bring back this time.
Henry came to an abrupt stop, deeply suspicious. He felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise with a tingling that he called his “Spidey-Sense.”
Serena noticed his mood and immediately switched from exhilaration to caution. “What is it, Henry?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the top of his head nervously and focused on the tree line surrounding the field. The entire setting was so calm that he could have easily imagined families enjoying peaceful picnics among the flowers. Yet something wasn’t right. “I don’t think we should go out there.”
“Forest has never led us into danger before,” Serena said. But his worry was infectious. She turned as if to leave—then remembered the path had already closed behind them. “We don’t have many choices.”
It suddenly struck him what was amiss. “There’s no path through the field. We’ve never been given free rein before.”
“Maybe it’s finally up to us to make a choice,” Serena said. “Maybe it’s a gift from Forest.” She seemed to like the sound of that and took several steps into the field.
Henry’s Spidey-Sense flared up in warning. “Get back!” he yelled.
Too late. In the blink of an eye the field disappeared from his view, replaced by a wall of vegetation—and Serena was on the other side of it. “Serena!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
If she replied, he couldn’t hear her. In fact, all was deadly silent—no insects chirping, no wind rustling. He thrashed wildly through the underbrush. But instead of moving forward, he found himself repelled backward by the plant life. The more effort he made, the harder it fought against him; he was losing ground.
Almost comically, Henry thought, This is the angriest vegetation I’ve ever seen. And it was definitely angry. When he finally gave up and turned around, the path had reopened behind him.
He shouted her name again and again. Nothing. Desperation hit him like a wave. He yelled “Serena!” at the top of his lungs. There was no training for this, no spells. Even if he thought of one, he worried it would only make Forest angrier.
He threw a tantrum, attempted to rip a branch from a shrub, and came away with nothing but a handful of leaves. The stripped branch immediately sprouted more leaves, showing no signs of damage. “Fine! Be that way!”
He turned toward the path, shoulders slumped, and began making his way back to the castle.
The walk was much longer than it should have been. Whereas the path into the forest had been fairly straight, the one leading back almost seemed to go in circles. It narrowed every few hundred meters, forcing Henry to duck or squeeze to avoid being scratched. Forest was teaching him a lesson—don’t mess with Mother Nature.
The tree line ended abruptly, much closer to the castle walls than he’d expected. Henry looked up and gasped, nearly stumbling onto his rump before righting himself.
“Where have you been?” Coralis growled from eight meters up. “Well? Answer me!”
Henry recoiled from Coralis’s anger. He was attempting to come up with a response when a thought struck him. “With all due respect, sir, you obviously knew precisely where to find me.”
He thought he detected the briefest of smiles, which was quickly masked. “Watch your tongue,” Coralis said darkly. “Where’s the girl?”
Henry narrowed his eyes. Coralis knew Henry hated it when he referred to Serena as “the girl.” The old man was deliberately trying to provoke him. “In there,” he said, nodding toward the trees.
“Humpf. About time.” Which wasn’t the response Henry expected. “Never mind that now. Get in here. We have visitors.”
Coralis quickly disappeared, leaving Henry with a dilemma. The openings in the castle wall were never in the same place, but Forest always led him straight to one. Not today. As far as he could see in either direction, there were no doorways. “How do I get back in?” he shouted up at the wall.
“You’re the smart one,” Coralis answered from farther down the ramparts. “You figure it out. And don’t upset the castle like you did the poor trees!”
Poor trees, my foot, thought Henry. They pushed me around worse than a bully.
He decided to go in the opposite direction of Coralis, running his hands along the massive gray bricklike boulders that made up the outer surface of the wall. He arrived at the corner and hesitated. Given the events of the day, he wanted to be prepared for more surprises.
He tentatively took a step forward. Then two. On the third, he leapt forward and turned the corner. He thought he had steeled himself for any surprise. He was wrong.
Three meters away, a falcon stood its ground, blocking his path. Henry raised his head to shout to Coralis. The falcon moved its head from side to side as if to say no.
It was the same thing Randall had done in Henry’s garage at the very start of his adventure.
But Randall was …
Henry swallowed hard. It wasn’t possible. He slapped his hand against the stone wall, hoping one of two things would happen. Either he’d spook the falcon and make it leave, or he’d wake up from a strange dream.
His palm made direct contact with a sharp outcropping on the stone surface. “Ouch!” He rubbed it vigorously while watching the falcon slowly shake its head—this time in disgust.
Henry stopped rubbing, suddenly feeling humiliated. He nervously cleared his throat. “I can’t imagine how you could be, but I should probably ask. Are … are you Ran—”
The falcon screeched as it leapt into the air, and with a giant flap of its wings, it almost cleared Henry’s head. Almost. The tip of a talon scraped against his scalp. Henry would look at it later, but he instinctively knew it was the exact same spot where Randall had nicked him in the garage.
He threw his arms up in self-defense, stumbling into … and through the wall, landing unceremoniously at the feet of Coralis.
“Are you quite through playing?” growled the Wand Master. “Get up and dust yourself off. We’re keeping them waiting.”
Henry stared at the wall. The opening, if there indeed had been an opening, had disappeared so quickly that he wondered if he had magically passed through solid stone. Coralis walked rapidly through the courtyard, leaving Henry no option but to run to catch up.
He knew he’d eventually have to tell Coralis about the falcon, but he also knew the old man’s moods, and now was not the time.
Serena’s fate at the hands of Forest weighed heavily on Henry’s mind. He chastised himself for not trying harder to reach her, yet he strongly suspected it would have done no good. And if Forest wanted to separate
them, he had to believe it was for a good reason and that Serena was safe. Certainly Coralis didn’t seem concerned.
He followed on the Wand Master’s heels through the courtyard. One of the first things Henry had done when he arrived over a year ago was to pace off the courtyard’s interior, which was an almost-perfect square, roughly two hundred meters on each side. Surrounding the courtyard on three sides were three perfectly level walls, eight meters high and three meters thick, with a walkway along the top that allowed someone to walk the entire perimeter.
The only two structures within the courtyard were a small chicken coop and an even smaller shed for garden supplies. The rest was soft, feathery grass with landscaped patches of fragrant flowers—and, of course, Gretchen’s expansive garden. She grew all the vegetables and herbs they needed.
On its fourth side, which was set with multiple doorways, the courtyard ran up against the main castle. The Wand Master referred to it as Castle Coralis, but it reminded Henry more of a medieval fortress than any castle from a storybook. He had studied designs of grand buildings with turrets, towers and spires, drawbridges and keeps. This one, though it loomed huge and imposing above the courtyard and its walls, was as simple as something a small child would construct on a sandy beach.
It was as if the word round was not in the architect’s vocabulary. The facade stood four stories tall, with each level set slightly back from the previous one—like the levels of a pyramid. In contrast, the rear of the castle was a sheer wall—as if the builders had either run out of materials or imagination.
Inside, the angular theme continued. There were no rounded archways between rooms, no grandiose paintings or sculptures, no massive chandeliers. The only room of any majesty was the foyer, which rose to ten meters, supported by six solid wooden columns, though not the kind with ornate carvings or molding. These columns were covered in tree bark and were very much alive.
No amount of poking or prodding could get Coralis to reveal any secrets about the castle. Henry anxiously awaited a behind-the-scenes tour, which Coralis said would come only when he learned to be patient. A year was a long time to be patient.