Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book

by HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  At first Tara tried to defend herself, but eventually gave up, fascinated by her grandmother’s breath control.

  I’ve only met Dad very recently but . . . Yes! She could feel him reacting.

  Danviou popped out from behind Tara’s shoulder and planted himself in front of Isabella. Forcing his tiny voice, he remarked coldly: “You haven’t changed, dear mother-in-law. I see you’re as direct as ever.”

  Isabella, who was halfway through her tirade, abruptly closed her mouth and stopped in midsentence. Her green eyes widened in astonishment, and a welcome silence fell on the assembly.

  Tara grinned. Seeing her grandmother mute with amazement was worth all the bawling out in the world.

  “Danviou?” Isabella stammered. “But . . .”

  “It’s a long story,” snapped the ghost, to save time. “Stay where you are and stretch out your arms.”

  Fascinated, Isabella obeyed. The red glyphs could be seen on her wrists, living testimony to Tara’s growing power.

  “By the blood spilled, by the word given, I free you from your oath,” the ghost recited. “The Blood Oath is ended.”

  The crowd turned to stare at Isabella’s wrists. Nothing happened. The glyphs continued to slowly pulse on her white skin.

  “I don’t understand!” he cried in surprise. “They should disappear!”

  Still unnerved at finding herself facing the tiny ghost of her son-in-law, Isabella rolled down her sleeves.

  “I have no idea why it didn’t work,” she said. “And Danviou, why are you so . . . small? And how do you happen to be here? I don’t understand.”

  Just then a trumpet blast rang through the castle, which quivered with outrage. Access to the Transfer Room had been requested from the demonic realms, which tripped the alarm. Magically amplified, the king’s voice summoned all high wizards to the Council Chamber.

  “Drat! I have to go,” said Master Chem, shaking his head in annoyance. “Isabella, you should come with me; it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a council meeting. Children, the session is open to the public. Come and sit in the stands. I want you to follow the discussion, in case it concerns you. Manitou, please make sure they don’t take any unusual . . . initiatives.”

  A note of pleading could clearly be heard in the dragon’s voice.

  The Council Chamber was used for administrative functions. It was smaller than the Throne Room, but just as elaborately decorated. The lacy open work on the marble and granite columns hardly seemed strong enough to support the room’s vaulted blue-and-silver ceiling.

  Here, too, the banners of Lancovit’s counts, dukes, and barons brightened the walls. Tara was surprised to notice a catwalk of carved blond wood that ran around the room above the stands. It was for the archers. Holdovers of a more tumultuous past, the bowmen stood with bows drawn and arrows nocked, ready to skewer anyone who made a threatening move toward the king or queen.

  Just in case.

  The high wizards were floating near the thrones. Isabella’s appearance was unexpected, and it generated a murmur of surprise.

  Finally, King Bear and Queen Titania, who were both powerful spellbinders, entered. They were short and, like their niece Sparrow, had brown hair and eyes. The king seemed as irritated as his first counselor, Salatar, who was breathing tiny flames of indignation.

  “Oyez, oyez,” yelled the marshal, a redheaded Cyclops. “Our kingdom has just received an ultimatum of war!”

  An anxious murmur rose from the crowd of courtiers. What? An ultimatum?

  “It is claimed that the Empire of Limbo, in the Union of Demonic Worlds, was invaded by a Lancovit wizard and spellbinders. This wizard brutalized the Demon King and caused the death of several of his guards. He then absconded with a relic of inestimable value that is vital to the maintenance of peace in those realms. The Demon King states that if the relic is not returned to him immediately, he will abrogate the Demiderus Treaty and attack the rift and the spells protecting Earth, dragons or no dragons. He further states that the Lancovit kingdom will be his second objective.”

  King Bear leaned close to his counselor. “Can he really do that, Salatar? I thought our wizards and the dragons had sealed off access to the demonic planets, so demons couldn’t come to our worlds unless they had been sent for.”

  The chimera breathed a jet of fire, then answered: “That is correct, sire. Normally, they can’t. But when the peace treaty was signed, the demons demanded an amendment to the agreement. If they were attacked and were not the aggressors, and something essential to their survival was taken from them, then the spell would no longer stop them from entering our worlds. At the time, the wizards and dragons agreed, because the war had cost so many lives, and the clause was considered a minor problem.”

  The king then leaned toward the queen, and the assembly respectfully waited for him to speak again.

  From where Tara and her friends were sitting, they could see Master Chem pacing around in midair, looking deeply worried.

  “Good grief!” muttered Manitou. “Chem and I completely forgot about that clause! We should never have taken the Judge. We just gave the demons a perfect excuse for invading us.”

  Sparrow had the saddlebag containing the Judge, the taludi, and The Forbidden Book. She opened it and took out the statuette.

  “We have a problem,” she whispered to the Judge.

  “No kidding!” snapped the tiny brazen voice angrily. “Whatever possessed you to drag me away like that? Do you really want to plunge the universe into war?”

  “We didn’t have any choice,” said Tara. “We had to try to help my grandmother.” Then, because she knew the Judge wouldn’t miss it, she added: “And I couldn’t pass up the chance to spend a little more time with my father.”

  “Yeah, sure!” spat the statuette. “That’ll be great consolation for all the people who will die because of you! Anyway, enough of this. Send me back to the demons before things really go bad.”

  “We tried to release Isabella from her blood oath, and it didn’t work,” said Tara’s father quickly. “Do you know why?”

  “For two reasons,” the Judge explained. “First, because I was stuck in a bag like some cheap knickknack. Second, because you weren’t your normal size. The spell didn’t recognize you as the original Danviou. You have to do it again.”

  While they were talking, Master Chem was working to bring the council around to his way of thinking. With sweeping gestures, he pointed first at Isabella and then at the glyphs on her arms. He reminded the assembly that she was the mainstay of their Earthly Surveillance program. No other wizard of her stature ever agreed to go live on a planet so devoid of magic, he said. He explained the effects of the blood oath and how important it was to free her from it.

  A murmur of compassion for Tara rose when Chem mentioned her father. And the crowd’s attention was at its height when he ended by telling about Cal’s arrest and sentence.

  To Tara’s great surprise, who considered his arguments rather lame, the old dragon was able to get the council to see the rightness of what they had done.

  Quite an accomplishment.

  By the end of the session, the king and queen were practically thanking him for risking his life to save Cal and Isabella.

  Hmm, thought Tara. So the dragon can make people swallow practically anything. She carefully stored that fact in her memory. Fine. But he wouldn’t take her in, ever.

  Robin’s faint smile confirmed that he shared her opinion.

  Master Chem finished his heartrending homily, then gestured to Sparrow to bring out the Judge.

  Chem didn’t need Tara’s power to restore the statue’s normal size this time. It did it just fine on its own, and soon the Judge’s impressive dark mass was looming over them.

  “Whew! That feels a lot better!” he said.

  The crowd stirred. Though the Judge had existed for centuries, no one had ever seen actually him. People were curious, fascinated, enthralled . . . right up until the moment wh
en the statue started doing what it did best.

  Judging.

  Before they realized what was happening, two counts and a baron were accused of embezzling tax money, which came as a surprise to Salatar. Guards promptly hauled the indignant noblemen away. The Judge had already taken up the case of a voluptuous marquise when Master Chem interrupted him. “Er, we didn’t bring you here to do that. And time is short; we must send you back to Limbo. We just need to—”

  “Spoil my fun, right?” interrupted the Judge. “Very well. I understand. Danviou Ab—”

  “Just plain Danviou,” said the dragon quickly. Chem had no desire for the ghost’s real identity as the empress’s brother and heir of the Empire of Omois to be revealed in open council.

  The statue’s carved mouth pursed ironically.

  “As I was saying,” he continued. “Danviou, father of Tara, do you wish to release your mother-in-law from her blood oath?”

  The ghost seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then nodded.

  “By the blood spilled, by the word given, I free you from your oath,” the ghost recited. “The Blood Oath is ended.”

  This time, the formula worked. The red glyphs on Isabella’s outstretched forearms faded, then disappeared.

  The blood oath had finally been canceled!

  Tara and her father exchanged radiant smiles.

  Isabella examined her arms, which were finally bare of all marks. Then she turned her green eyes to the ghost. “Thank you, Danviou. I’m glad to see that you accept your daughter’s heritage. She will become a powerful spellbinder.”

  “She’s already a powerful spellbinder,” he said proudly. “And I regret with all my heart that I can’t stay with her.”

  “Dad! What do you mean?” Tara’s cry drew the king and queen’s attention.

  “You have to stay!” she continued. “I don’t want to lose you, not now. Not again!”

  “I’m sorry, darling, but it isn’t up to me!” Danviou answered, sounding terribly sad. “My place is no longer among the living. We have to part now. I’m grateful that fate gave us a chance to see each other one last time. Tell your mother that I love her and that I always will.”

  There was no longer a dry eye in the crowd. The women were weeping into handkerchiefs that materialized here and there; the men were rubbing their eyes; and even gruff old Salatar shed a fiery tear. It ran down his lion’s face and fell hissing to the ground.

  Tara was about to speak when the Judge abruptly sent the ghost away. “Dad!” she screamed, as her father’s figure slowly vanished. “No! Dad!”

  And before she could stop him, Master Chem and the other spellbinders seized the Judge and sent him back to Limbo.

  Tara was furious and wheeled on the old dragon.

  “Why did you do that? I had so many things to tell him! Bring both of them back, right now!”

  Queen Titania intervened.

  “Tara, darling, we didn’t have any choice,” she said gently. “If it had been in our power to keep your father, we would’ve done so without hesitation. But the demons left us very little time. A few more minutes, and it would have been war. What would you have done in that situation?”

  Tara opened her mouth, then closed it again. Though heartsick, she had to admit that the queen was right. She obviously couldn’t keep the judge for her own personal use.

  The king could tell that the girl was terribly affected by the loss of her father and felt deeply concerned.

  Tara’s friends all gathered around, hugging her. Even Fafnir, who wasn’t much given to affectionate demonstrations, put her arms around them all.

  “Ouch,” Cal finally said with a grimace. “You don’t need to break my ribs, Fafnir. I love her too.”

  Despite her tears, Tara couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the dwarf’s outraged expression. Tara wiped her eyes and turned back to the king and queen.

  “We have another problem,” she said in a voice that still quivered. “Fafnir tried to get rid of her magical power by drinking a brew of black roses a while ago.”

  Her statement was greeted by murmur of horror, and the spellbinders nearest them moved away slightly.

  Master Chem shot Tara an irritated glance, because this was an announcement he’d planned to make himself. He continued: “Unfortunately, it seems Fafnir has been infected by a kind of evil entity, the Ravager. Each time he possesses her, she loses all control. If he succeeds in taking her over completely, he could contaminate anyone around her for years. Like a virus that can’t be stopped, he could infect our world, other worlds, even the universe!”

  “What kind of outlandish story is that?” growled Salatar, who had long resented the dragon’s influence over the kingdom. “We just barely avoided a bloody war with the demons, a war we weren’t at all sure of winning. And now you’re serving up some ridiculous tale of possession? If memory serves, the only place where black roses are found is in the Swamps of Desolation, in Gandis. That’s the land of giants—our allies! Your Majesties, this is nonsense. I suggest we wrap up the council session and focus on more pressing concerns. Our time is precious!”

  Annoyed by the chimera’s skepticism, Tara whispered to Fafnir: “Do you think you could you loosen your control over the Ravager a little? I think the First Counselor needs a little demonstration.”

  “I could, but are you sure about doing that?” the dwarf asked worriedly. “This thing wants my body, and it might attack and hurt you. By my axe, if I’m possessed there’ll be nothing I can do about it.”

  “The living stone tells me the Ravager doesn’t have all his power, because part of him is still imprisoned on the Island of Black Roses. We should be able to control him. At least I hope so.”

  “Hmpf, blasted magic! Okay, you guys ready?”

  “Go ahead,” said Sparrow with a grin. “I think my uncle and my aunt also need to know what they’re dealing with.”

  The dwarf concentrated and slowly yielded control over her body. The courtiers stared at her, unsure of what to expect. The Lilliputian fairies stopped flitting about, the imps quit their pranks, and the unicorns postponed their discussions. A deathly silence fell on the assembly.

  They waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  Nothing happened. The Ravager was no fool. Fafnir alone knew what he was capable of. The Ravager was well aware that he couldn’t resist an onslaught by dozens of high wizards and dragons. His only chance was to remain hidden. Overcoming Fafnir was very tempting, but he resisted it at this moment.

  After a few minutes, Salatar spoke up.

  “Well?” he thundered.

  Fafnir hesitantly opened her eyes.

  “I don’t get it,” she muttered. “The darn thing doesn’t want to come back.”

  The chimera stared at her, his amber eyes focused on Fafnir’s head.

  “Your aura is blue,” he finally announced.

  The dwarf’s eyes widened. “My what is what?”

  “Your aura. It’s blue. Which means you practice magic. We chimera are sensitive to magic; we can see it. But dwarves don’t like magic, I believe. In fact, doesn’t your people banish those individuals affected by it?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t see the connec—”

  “I see the connection very clearly. You’ve been driven out. You have no place to go.”

  Salatar stood up smoothly and went to stand in front of the dwarf, his dragon tail twitching nervously. “You decided that you’d get Lancovit to take you in. So, you come to us with this story of possession. But there’s no need to lie to gain our sympathy. We’re very glad to welcome you among us. Powerful spellbinders like you are always welcome in Lancovit!”

  The dwarf was practically speechless, but not quite.

  “Grachiia!” she hissed in Dwarvish.

  From the look on Sparrow’s face, it must have been an especially ugly curse.

  Then Fafnir took a deep breath, and when she spoke, Salatar was buffeted by the power of her
voice.

  “By my mother!” she yelled. “By all the gold in the world, I wouldn’t want to be a spellbinder. Give me a sword, give me a collar, give me some metal, and keep your blasted magic! I drank that brew to get rid of it. And not only did the magic remain, but I picked up some sort of a parasite! Since you’re too stupid to realize it, don’t come running to me when the Ravager has your guts for garters!”

  Red-faced with anger, Fafnir turned her back on the chimera and began to force her way through the crowd. She wasn’t very tall, but it was easy to follow her progress, which was punctuated with the courtiers’ reactions: Ow! Ouch! Hey!

  She didn’t get far, though.

  The king cast a spell, and instantly Fafnir was hanging in midair.

  “Let me go!” she roared. “Let me down, or I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

  The king’s voice was calm, but it rang throughout the chamber: “Take it easy, Miss Dwarf. Our counselor wasn’t trying to insult you. He was merely testing a hypothesis to gauge your reaction. That reaction was, shall we say, energetic enough to convince us. We hereby appoint Master Patin and Master Chanfrein to accompany you to the Swamps of Desolation to evaluate the danger this creature represents. If the Ravager exists and wants to possess you, he won’t be able to resist attempting it, knowing you are so near. Masters Patin and Chanfrein can protect you, while judging the Ravager’s power to do mischief. They’re both powerful spellbinders and will help you. Is that acceptable, Miss Dwarf?”

  Fafnir had stopped struggling. She now simply folded her muscular arms to show how little it bothered her to be floating ten feet off the ground.

  But Tara, who knew her well, was sure she was extremely uncomfortable. Dwarves were very afraid of heights!

  “That suits me fine . . . Your Majesty,” she said through gritted teeth. “We can leave right away. If your wizards are ready, that is.”

  From her tone, Tara felt that Fafnir greatly doubted the Lancovians’ ability to hurry.

  Master Patin, a cahmboum who looked like a big pat of yellow butter with two bulging red eyes, frowned as best he could without having real eyebrows.

  “Give us a few minutes to get our equipment together, Miss,” he said politely, “and we’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”