The second rail caught me in the lower back and I discovered why all those characters in the books I loved made such a big deal about getting punched in the kidneys. My whole world went runny around the edges and my mouth suddenly felt like I’d been chewing on old pennies and nine-volt batteries—simultaneously metallic and fizzy.
I could hear Josh laughing, harsh and hard like a crow. That made me angry enough to want to punch his face in, but every slight movement sent spikes of pain through my lower back. Maybe I can just lie here for a while and suffer quietly, I thought.Yeah, that’s a good plan.
Suddenly, Sparx was leaning in very close and speaking to me in the language of fire, which was losing some of that formal air as I became more used to it.
“Kid, you need to get up, right now. Actually, two minutes ago would be better.”
“Hurts.”
“Not half as much as drowning in ice water, which is all too likely if you don’t move. You can’t show weakness in front of a spirit like the Rusalka. Not if you want to walk away.”
I blinked. Then, slowly and with great difficulty, I rolled onto my hands and knees. Not fun. Standing up followed, though I’m not quite sure how I managed it. When I turned back to Josh and Ms. Sippi, I could see a hungriness in the latter’s eyes that underlined Sparx’s warning.
Right, no weakness. I could do this. Sure. Absolutely. No time like the present. With the greatest effort of will, I painted a smile on my face and stepped in close to the Rusalka, looking deep into those hungry eyes and holding their gaze.
If this were one of my books, there would have been a long, meaningful wordless exchange between the two of us and She would have looked away first. Unfortunately, it was not one of my books and it was winter in Minnesota. So, after about fifteen seconds of trying to stare down an elemental in the face of a bitter sub-zero wind, my eyes filled with tears and I had to blink them away.
When I could see again, the Rusalka had moved back a bit and humor had joined the hunger. “You’re a funny child, with your boldness and your fiery Halloween costume play. I like that. I don’t think I’ll kill you today. In fact, I’m going to help you. Later, if you survive everything else that’s coming your way, then maybe I’ll kill you. Maybe. So much depends on mood.”
Yay? “That’s … well, kind of a jerk move on your part.” I felt my throat going warm and fuzzy, but I fought it down—I didn’t think my power would do much more than irritate the Rusalka. I needed to convince Her the hard way. “Not the not-killing-me-now bit. That’s good. But the maybe killing me later? Jerk move. I mean, I’m about to do something that you really, really want to have someone do for you, so I’d think the least you could do is pretend that you were going to be grateful if I can manage it.”
The water that made up the body of the Rusalka seemed to become darker, full of silt and hidden hazards. On my chest, Sparx slipped farther down into his bag so that only his eyes and the top of his head were showing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Josh move slowly back into the shadow of one of the bridge supports.
“You dare to speak to me so, boy?” Her voice sounded cold and cruel—utterly inhuman. “Why should I not kill you now?”
“Because you have a problem with the Winter King, and you want me to solve it.” I had a sudden insight as I was speaking. “It blocks your power, doesn’t it?”
“What?” The Rusalka actually looked startled.
“The ice. That’s why Josh had to crack through from above. You couldn’t do it yourself. Not when the whole surface is frozen like this. And I know it’s got to be worse in your tributaries. Some of the smaller streams freeze all the way to the bottom. You don’t like this weather any more than we humans do. Less even. That’s why you want to help me, so I can loose you from the chains of ice.”
Translucent eyelids closed, partially masking the equally translucent eyes behind them. When She opened them again they were sparkling and bright. The Rusalka threw Her head back and laughed—a sound like bright water running shallow over stones.
“Oh, child, well done. You are as clever as you are funny, though it is not nearly so simple as that. It’s more the will behind the ice than it is the presence of the stuff.”
I remembered then what Sparx had said about the Northern Crown and the great river back in October. “The Corona Borealis gives my stepfather power over you, and not just through the ice. It burns you.”
“True enough, but not enough of the truth. I am Mississippi; a passing season is nothing to me. But your Oscar pushes for so very much more. He would make himself King of the North the whole year round. He cannot do it yet, but the longer he controls the Corona Borealis, the greater his mastery becomes and the harder it will be to stop him. He is a growing threat to me and mine. But that’s a problem we share at the moment, is it not?”
“Details.” I waved a hand dismissively, though the fear I felt in facing down the Rusalka had me sweating under my jacket. “What matters here is that the Winter King blocks us both, and you want me to do something about it. So, maybe you should try playing nice.”
“We are fire and water, you and I, and pretending otherwise is barest farce, but all right. I shall pretend to be grateful and I shall lie prettily and tell you that this is an alliance to last the ages instead of the briefest truce between ancient foes.”
Sparx vanished completely into the deeps of my bag, but I simply stuck out my hand to shake. “Deal.”
The Rusalka took it in a brief soggy grip and smiled. “Done. Next time I see you, I will welcome you with open arms and you shall be as safe with me as you are in your own bed, watched over by your loving parents.”
She emphasized the s in parents, and didn’t that send a nice little icicle sliding along my spine—score one for the ancient elemental. “Right. So, what do you want? Or perhaps I should ask: What help are you going to give me to help you?”
She laughed again. “Little enough, truly. If I could offer you spells and charms of power, I would. But water cannot aid fire so directly. That is a marriage that must always end in quick divorce or quicker murder. So, advice will I offer and nothing more.”
“Oh, that’s going to help.”
Sparx shivered in his bag but didn’t say anything. I wanted to growl at him and point out that he was the one who’d told me not to show fear, but the Rusalka was already speaking. I heard the words in my heart, for She spoke in the language of fire—beautiful and burning bright—and they carried so much more weight that way, but I will try to translate them as best I can.
Comes now the frigid solstice night, Corona Borealis at its height.
Ice that is fresh will not shatter.
He who would break Winter’s power must await his proper hour.
Only then can he press the matter.
But time will not win this fight alone; more is required to seize the Throne.
Long-hidden treasure he must bring.
Heirlooms of ash and oak, bound in flame and blessed with smoke,
Needs he who would discrown the King.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I have given you what clues I can; finding the answer is now your task.” With that She let go of her demi-human form. For one brief instant more, a narrow column of black water hung in the air in front of us before bursting apart and flash-freezing into a puff of snow.
“Huh,” said Josh. “I was almost hoping She’d eat you. Oh well. Later.” Without another word, he turned and started walking across the bridge toward the frozen swamp.
I wanted to hate him then, but I found that I couldn’t. I had some inkling of what his parents were, and while Oscar might never have hit me, I had more insight into Josh now than was entirely comfortable. What if, instead of Sparx, I’d found someone more like the Rusalka when my magic first awakened?
A swirl of wind brought more tears to my eyes. As I blinked them away I realized I was shivering, though whether that was purely the cold or a delayed reaction to my fear, I couldn�
�t easily say. Turning in the opposite direction from Josh, I headed back to shore and then started plodding toward downtown proper, where I could catch a city bus home. It was too bad I didn’t live on the light-rail line.
After a while, Sparx poked his head out of the bag. “That went as well as we could have hoped.”
I raised an eyebrow skeptically. “It did? How do you figure?”
“We are still alive, and we have new information to ponder.”
“Yeah, because stupid riddles are going to help us soooo much if we have to go up against Oscar and the Darkness under the capitol.”
“Riddles will not, but their answers … well, that’s another story.”
“So, you know what she meant by all the gobbledygook?”
Sparx shook his head. “Not all of it, certainly, but it’s clear from the first riddle that we cannot defeat the Winter King now, at the height of his power. We must lie low for a while, which gives us time to figure the rest out. Lying low as—I must note—I told you we should be doing yesterday.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you told me so. Nobody likes a sore winner.” I sighed. “So, now what?”
“Lie low. Keep out of Oscar’s sight. Perform no magic. Pretend for the week that you are an ordinary boy having a good time over winter break. Today is the solstice and the longest night, which means that the light begins its slow return tomorrow. Blow off all things serious and dark for a time. It will do your heart good, and the best way to crack a riddle is to not think about it too hard.”
“All right. I guess that means I get to use the Omnitheater pass after all.”
The Science Museum of Minnesota was one of the treasures of downtown Saint Paul, with all kinds of cool exhibits and a huge IMAX/Omnimax theater. Since it was walking distance from the Free School, a lot of advisory groups and classes used it as a prime field trip destination, and a fair number of older students interned there.
My family had bought a membership ages ago, which meant I could visit as often as I wanted without needing to pay to get in. It was one of the best places to slip off to if you wanted to skip out of classes in deep winter without freezing to death. The membership also came with a number of Omnitheater passes, and Mom had told me I should use the last of this year’s up over winter break.
The current show was something about Iceland, and it involved a lot of aerial shots of volcanoes and flowing lava with things bursting into flame at its touch. Sparx loved every moment, so we stayed for a second showing. It was fun, and for a little while at least, I did my best to follow his advice and not think about the riddle. Which, if you’ve ever tried to not think about something, you know is much harder than it sounds.
* * *
Christmas came and went without any huge blowups between me and Oscar, which was a relief, though my presents were kind of disappointing. I got a lot of boring clothes, including one of those winter hats that looks like a jester’s, which was very meh. Especially since they were sized for me to grow into them. I did get a really nice bike, but I wouldn’t be able to use it until March at the earliest! I also got a couple of new fantasy-type games for my console, but they seemed a lot less compelling after encountering real magic.
Though I spent a lot of time practicing with firetongue and drawing the ideograms for the words I was using the most, Sparx and I didn’t start batting the riddles around seriously until the day after New Year’s. He felt that waiting for the returning light was for the best. But come January second, we dug in.
After perhaps half an hour he slapped an angry paw down on the grubby piece of paper I’d written the riddles on. “Two things. A) This a terrible verse structure. I have no idea why the Rusalka chose something so clunky. B) Your handwriting is abominable. Were you taught penmanship by illiterate pandas, or what?”
I gave him a hard look. “One, my hands were half frozen when I wrote this down, and so was the ink. Two, my typing and texting are just fine, which is what matters these days. Nobody writes anything by hand anymore. You might as well criticize me for not knowing how to girdle a horse.”
“Saddle!”
Gotcha. “Whatever, old man. Next thing you’ll be all sad about those poor bunny-whip makers going out of business.”
“That’s buggy whips, you … Wait, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
I tugged on his toes. “I’m told that’s supposed to be lucky.”
“Harrumph, I say. Harrumph indeed! To say nothing of piffle and fiddlesticks.”
I grinned. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get back to cracking this thing.” I poked at the sheet. “The first riddle pretty clearly tells us we can’t do it yet and we need to wait for the right moment, but it doesn’t tell us anything about when that moment might come. Thoughts?”
Sparks rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I doubt She wanted us to wait all the way till the end of the Winter King’s seasonal reign. That might buy the Rusalka something for next year, but it wouldn’t help Her now, and She doesn’t seem overly long on patience. No, She had something more immediate in mind, but I don’t know what it is. I suspect that if we crack the second riddle, it will answer the first. What is this long-hidden treasure we’re supposed to be looking for?”
“She mentioned oak and ash, which tells me it’s associated with fire.” I thought about my various fantasy novels and the sorts of things you might need to take down an ice king. “Maybe a flaming sword?” I paused. “That’d be pretty awesome, actually!” I picked up an imaginary sword and held it high over my head. “By the power of my ancestors!”
Sparx chuckled. “I doubt it will be anything quite that dramatic. I don’t think you’re ready to take on the Winter King in a physical duel. Even without the magical skill differential, Oscar is twice your size. I suspect it will be something small but powerful, a ring, perhaps, or a pendant of some kind.”
“No magic swords—where’s the fun in that?” I sighed. He was probably right.
We spent another hour talking it over but didn’t get any further along in figuring it out. Not then and not the next day, either. When we showed the riddle to Dave the day after that, he came up blank as well.
“I fear we’re missing an important clue,” Sparx growled as we reread the lines for the umpteenth time.
We were, but I didn’t find it until a few weeks later. Even then, it was more by accident than intent. I’d woken up well before the rest of the house on a Sunday morning—side effect of my newfound fear of the Dark and the ensuing insomnia issues.
I was sitting in the living room quietly playing one of my games on the big TV when the paperboy bounced the Pioneer Press off the front door, and I figured I might as well go out and get it. It was January 22 and the opening of the Winter Carnival. The first clue for the medallion hunt was at the top of the front page, above an article about how the historic cold snap was enabling the construction of the record-breaking ice palace they’d hoped to build. I took one look at the clue and cursed when I recognized the rhyming structure.
I leaped up and ran back into the house. “SPARX!”
The hare bounced out of my room waving his front paws wildly. “Hush, boy! Or do you want to wake Oscar up and let him know you have a fire hare besides? Now, what’s up?”
I showed him the newspaper and he began to swear quietly but intensely in the language of fire.
“This is exactly what we needed,” I said. “Why are you so upset?”
“Because I like to believe that I am smarter than the average hare, and now that the answer is pointed out I feel like a fool for not seeing it sooner. Of course the key is the Winter Carnival. It’s an entire city getting together to enact a two-week ritual designed to drive out the power of winter. We need only figure out a way to focus that power to our advantage. The question is how? We know the time, and it is now, but what does the second riddle mean?”
I tapped the paper again. “Could it be the medallion itself? You thought it would be something small. That’s de
finitely a hidden treasure, and they’ve been doing it for years.”
Sparx scratched his chin pensively for several long seconds and then finally shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s hidden treasure, yes, but not long-hidden by any means, and not directly associated with fire. No, it will be something else.”
Then it hit me. “My great-grandfather’s Vulcan uniform! That’s why Oscar was so upset by my costume, why he didn’t want me to have anything to do with the Vulcan myth. He called it ritual nonsense. But it’s not nonsense; it’s real, and he saw it as a threat. My mom said her grandfather was Rex after he was a Vulcan. I thought she meant he was Vulcanus Rex in a later year, but that wasn’t it at all. She meant that he took the Corona Borealis and became the Summer King.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because she only talked about his uniform, not his uniforms, and she mentioned how fine I’d look in my great-grandfather’s red suit. Vulcans wear red. Their leader wears black.”
“I think you might be onto something, Kalvan. The next question is: Where is the uniform?”
“Not in the attic. That’s for sure. We spent hours up there and didn’t find anything. Besides, he’d want to keep it someplace safe and well guarded.”
We both glanced downward. It looked like I was going to have to confront my newfound fear of the Dark sooner and more directly than I wanted.
15
Fireship Down
“IT’S NOT DOWN HERE.” I shone my flashlight along the underside of the model table, looking for doors that might lead to hidden compartments in one of the buildings other than the capitol—we’d started above but found nothing.
“Keep looking!” Sparx was still poking around up there while keeping one eye on the big cardboard ring we’d placed around the capitol model and the Darkness within.
Knowing what we were in for had given us a better chance to prepare this time, including making the ring—which was a sort of portable warding circle designed to keep the Dark confined to its box within the miniature building. It had taken Sparx and me a couple of days to make it, which had put off this foray until Friday.
Magic, Madness, and Mischief Page 16