The Scarlet Dragon (The Witching World Book 5)

by Lucia Ashta

  “But it will be safer for you upstairs, Grand-mère, where we can all be together.”

  “There’s a danger in the castle? Is my brother all right?”

  I exchanged a look with Mordecai. If what Marcelo said was true, then we could have no way of knowing whether Grand-mère’s real brother was all right.

  “Gustave is upstairs too, Ariadne,” Mordecai said diplomatically.

  Grand-mère nodded absently and shuffled one foot in front of the other, as if she’d aged a hundred years in an hour.

  “This is going to take forever,” I said to Mordecai under my breath. “Can you float her up there?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. At least, it doesn’t work well. When the person is conscious, her will usually fights the spell and it doesn’t work.”

  Grand-mère lifted one foot over the first rise, faltered, and returned her foot to the parquet of the entry hall. On the third try, she managed, and we all stepped up one tread. I followed the spiral of the staircase up to the second floor. It was going to take forever like this.

  “It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Clara. We’ll make it at just the right time.

  “You’re doing so well, Ariadne. Keep it up. Lift your foot again. Now your leg. There you go. Very good.”

  I breathed in deeply, telling my own fidgety side to relax, and stepped up another tread, pulling Grand-mère up with me.

  “It’s natural, my child, to feel that restlessness inside. You must learn to temper it to your own will. We must flow with the circumstances as they present themselves, not resist them.”

  I found it mildly unnerving that this man could pinpoint what I was feeling or thinking. I decided to ask the question I had wanted to for years. I had nothing to lose, really. “Mordecai, do you read minds?”

  I helped Grand-mère up another step. He didn’t answer. I lifted Grand-mère up one more step. I looked around ample folds of scarlet silk to find Mordecai’s face.

  His mischievous expression told me that he didn’t intend on answering me. Yet the twinkle in his eye was enough to speak for him. Perhaps he couldn’t intercept all thoughts. But the child-like enthusiasm he didn’t try to hide revealed the rest: He could certainly intercept some of them.

  Chapter 28

  It took forever to get up the one flight of stairs with Grand-mère in her current disoriented state. By the time we rounded the corner and were near the room Mordecai had chosen for Sylvia’s recovery, every muscle in my body was uncomfortably clenched. I had to consciously release the clinching of my teeth, only to discover that I was pressing them together again a moment later.

  We’d neither heard nor seen anything to indicate that violence awaited us in Sylvia’s chambers. But there was a potentially dangerous man loose in the castle, and if he was indeed an enemy of ours, it was unlikely that he’d retired to his room to rest before dinner as he indicated he would.

  I tried to speed up and traverse the last few steps to Sylvia’s room at a pace faster than a tortoise’s, but even in that half-step, I began to leave Grand-mère behind.

  “Patience, child,” Mordecai said, without ever taking his eyes from Grand-mère. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

  I didn’t visibly acknowledge his comment. I knew all too well what could occur in a short time when magic was involved. Seconds mattered. Marcelo and Sylvia could attest to that. Both of them would have been saved from the torment of darkness if only we’d had just a few seconds more.

  “Where are we going? Are we going to a party?” Grand-mère asked, in the wobbly voice of a drunkard.

  “We are going to meet up with all of our friends,” Mordecai said, with the patience a caregiver used when simplifying things so that a young child would understand.

  “How marvelous. I love friends.”

  I looked ahead, urging us forward faster, though it made no difference. I willed my ears to pick up any sound that would indicate alarm.

  “See, Clara. We made it. All that was needed was a bit of patience,” Mordecai said. We took the last few steps and entered the room.

  Everyone stood, even Sylvia. The tension in the room was palpable.

  “Is everyone all right?” I asked, my eyes darting to each one of them.

  Marcelo smiled. “Yes.” But the smile was short-lived and strained. “How is she?”

  “The same.” Mordecai’s tone was pleasant for Grand-mère’s sake. Regardless, even he couldn’t completely hide the concern that underlay his voice. “What did you find out in the kitchens?

  “We’re going to sit you down by the window, Ariadne. So that you can enjoy the beautiful view of the mountain and the village below.”

  “Oh, how nice.”

  Mordecai and I steered Grand-mère while Mordecai flicked sharp eyes at Marcelo.

  “Gregore wasn’t in the staff quarters, nor was he anywhere on the property. He didn’t arrive with any staff.”

  “I see,” Mordecai said.

  “He didn’t come with any servants? Not even a valet?” I asked. I worked hard to keep the quiver from my voice. No one of Gustave’s station traveled without multiple servants. “But at the very least he must have had someone to help him with his horses. Did you check the stables?”

  “I didn’t need to. The staff has been plenty perplexed by the oddity of Gustave’s arrival. He didn’t travel by carriage. He arrived alone, atop one horse, and he brought only two small bags attached to the saddle of his horse.”

  “That’s most unusual indeed.” Finally, Mordecai allowed the concern to seep into his voice. He and I reached the armchair next to the window and lowered Grand-mère into it. “Just sit now and relax, Ariadne. We’ll be here with you.”

  “Merci,” she said with little of the dignity that normally colored her voice.

  With Grand-mère seated, I studied everyone in the room more closely. Marcelo was pacing. Brave, however, stood in place, though he didn’t stay still. He was restless, swaying and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  Gertrude was still where I’d left her, on the windowsill next to Sir Lancelot. Yet while Sir Lancelot didn’t even turn to acknowledge us when we entered the room, Gertrude stared straight at me. There was no need for her to watch over the castle’s approach. Sir Lancelot stood tall at his post, stretching into every inch of his height, determined not to let anyone slip past him below.

  Mathieu continued to be a bastion of support and companionship to Sylvia. They stood together, though Sylvia remained close to the bed. She’d only just come out of the dark sleep earlier today. She couldn’t take it too quickly without risking a setback.

  The same applied to Marcelo, who appeared to give no thought to his health, pacing the length of the room with his usual briskness. I wished to tell him to take it easy, to be careful with himself, that he too had only just come out of the sleep of darkness. It had only been a couple of days since he woke, and the putrid infection was spreading—so gradually that it was hard to identify the progress of the darkness—but it was happening.

  However, I knew he wouldn’t listen. He’d do what he needed to do to protect us, no matter what the consequences might be to him. I wasn’t certain I could blame him, I’d do the same.

  “I presume that Gregore would usually travel with Gustave—or at least, with the real Gustave,” Mordecai said.

  Marcelo nodded. “It would be logical.”

  “Yet the Gustave that arrived here did so without him. That on its own is most suspect.”

  “Do you think Gregore is alive?” Brave asked.

  “I cannot say, child,” Mordecai said. “I fear that Gregore’s fate depends much upon who Gustave really is.”

  “Do we know if Gustave—or whoever he is—is still in the castle?” I asked.

  The men in the room exchanged looks. “Sir Lancelot, I assume that you haven’t seen him exit the castle?”

  Sir Lancelot didn’t distract his watch when he answered. “No, Lord Mordecai, I’m most certain that no man, woman, child,
or beast has left the castle by way of the descent down the mountain into town. And I believe that’s the only way to access the castle. Am I correct, Count Bundry?”

  “You are.”

  “So then the reasonable assumption would be that the man is within the castle walls.” Sir Lancelot flicked a pointed glance across his shoulder.

  “Well, there’s one way to find out,” Marcelo said while he moved toward the door.

  “I’ll come with you,” Brave said.

  “Good,” Marcelo said. When he looked to Mordecai, the man that was like a father gave him an encouraging nod. Under ordinary circumstances, Marcelo was the equal of most magicians in the region, and he knew it. Now that he was injured, Mordecai’s trust in him meant more than usual.

  “Go do what needs to be done now, and tonight, we’ll see to your arm,” Mordecai said. I suspected that there was more that Mordecai would have said if so many ears hadn’t been listening. Even injured as Marcelo was, Mordecai didn’t want to undermine his authority. The time for vulnerability was reserved for when others were not in danger. It was the way it was with almost all men of the time, and most especially with these men.

  Marcelo and Brave were at the door when Marcelo stopped, pensive. “Mathieu, would you be willing to join us also?”

  Even untrained in the ways of magical strategy, I could see that Marcelo’s request was wise. We might all be wrong about Gustave. When Marcelo knocked on the door, he might do no more than arouse a sleepy and docile man from his nap. But if we were right, and chances were high that we were—after all, wizards and witches relied on their intuition, honing it, as magic was based in those sources that could only be accessed in the unseen world—then the company of a firedrake might prove valuable. A fire-breathing, flying creature instilled with the instinct to protect—and to protect Grand-mère in particular—was a powerful ally.

  Mathieu responded by waddling toward the doorway.

  However, before the reconnaissance team could make it another step further, an earthquake shook the walls and floors of the castle. The trembling lasted no more than a moment, just long enough to remind us that there were some things over which even the most skilled witch or wizard had no control.

  Chapter 29

  Once stillness returned to the age-old foundations of the Castle of Bundry, a flurry of activity erupted.

  Marcelo looked to Mordecai. The old man nodded solemnly. He would man his post here, protecting the rest of us if needed.

  “Clara, join us.” I tried to conceal my surprise as I stepped forward.

  “Now. Let’s go,” Marcelo said, and I rapidly discovered that by that Marcelo meant let’s go at breakneck speed.

  We tore down the hallway until we passed Grand-mère’s open doorway. At Gustave’s door, Marcelo didn’t even knock. Stepping fully into his role as lord of this castle, he swung the door open forcefully and flooded through it. In seconds, he’d swept the room and was back out, leading us toward the main spiral staircase.

  “This way. Come on. To the roof.”

  It was only then, running after Marcelo to keep up, that I understood what must have happened, and why Marcelo included me in the search team after the earthquake.

  It hadn’t been an earthquake at all. The shaking was the aftershock of takeoff in flight of a particularly gargantuan, massive creature that might have weighed as much as any of the castle’s wings.

  Marcelo invited me along despite his instincts to shield me from threat because I was the only magician that could fly.

  Injured arm or not, Marcelo ran faster. Mathieu abandoned his awkward attempts to keep up with us with the clumsy gait that had been given to him only because he had so much better a mode of transportation to employ when necessary. He let me pass and then spread his wings wide, occupying the width of the hallway, possessed now of an infinite grace, purposefully slowing his pace so as not to pass us.

  Marcelo slid onto the wooden stairway and lunged up it. I followed, forced to take the steps several at a time, with a flash of gratitude for my sensible shoes and the carpet that was pinned across the steps to keep me from sliding. I held my skirts in both hands and trained my eyes on Marcelo ahead, Brave right behind him.

  I felt, rather than saw, the firedrake’s jerking flap of wings behind me on the stairwell. “Go Mathieu.” My breathing was already heavy. “Go in front.” I sensed his hesitation; firedrakes were by nature loyal and protective. “You don’t need. To slow down. To wait. For me. Go.”

  But it was my next words that convinced him. “Make sure. The way is safe. For all of us.”

  Mathieu flew past me in a blur of opalescent green just as my foot descended upon the landing of the third floor. By then, Marcelo had already turned right. I knew where he was going. I had discovered this same trajectory before on my own, when what I felt as no more than an unidentifiable impulse urged me ever upward, searching desperately for open skies.

  We pounded down the hallway of the third floor, past guest bedrooms and lesser-used rooms. When we reached the unremarkable door at the end of the hall, Marcelo barreled through it. Brave paused, surprising me again with his awareness of others, to hold the door for Mathieu and me.

  The rudimentary stairway, which led to the roof, was steep and narrow. We traversed it in seconds. Brave’s breathing was as heavy as mine. He snapped at my heels with his hurried paces.

  The door at the top of the stairwell clanged shut before Mathieu could jet through it. In an awkward dance of wings and dangerously sharp talons, I ducked under him and pushed the door open. After Mathieu cleared the narrow opening with enviable grace, pulling his wings tightly to his sides and rocketing through the doorway despite his lack of much momentum, Brave and I scrambled up the stone steps that divided the world of indoors from that of the outdoors.

  And we almost ran smack into Marcelo.

  After so much speed, his stillness was alarming.

  I brought my hand to the small of his back. His breath pulsed through him as quickly as mine.

  I wanted to keep running. I didn’t want to stop. The thrill of the chase called for more. We could catch him, this Gustave, whoever he was.

  But there was nowhere to go. At least, there was nowhere to go that Marcelo and Brave could follow.

  “Humbert is gone.” Marcelo stated the obvious.

  “And I dare say that means our dangerous guest is gone as well,” Brave snarled, as intent on the chase as I was.

  “Oh no,” I gasped.

  Marcelo and Brave whirled on me. “What is it?” Marcelo asked with all the urgency of our high-speed chase.

  I pointed. The men turned. “Oh no,” Marcelo echoed.

  There on the roof, discarded like a scream of alarm, was Anna’s hairpin. I’d admired it just that morning, and she had proudly shared its history with me. It had been her great-grandmother’s and one of her few prized possessions. It was a poetic call for help that identified its victim while offering no direction for her rescue.

  Forlorn, we turned our eyes to the sky. Clouds were thick with snow even though it was mid-spring. Mathieu pumped his wings, hovering in place, until he turned his long face to Marcelo. Mathieu and Marcelo couldn’t speak to each other in words, but they didn’t have to. Mathieu’s face was a green opalescent request for permission.

  Marcelo deliberated, but not for long. Finally, with regret singing every one of his words, he answered. “Go. Follow them as far as you can safely. Come back as soon as you can.”

  Like a hummingbird jetting from here to there, never still for long, Mathieu took off before Marcelo had finished the last word. When Marcelo spoke again, his words were forced to trail after the majestic firedrake. “Be safe, my friend.”

  I leaned into Marcelo and reached for Brave’s hand. Clarissa’s son startled before settling into my gesture of comfort. Together, we watched Mathieu fade into the distance in an example of perfect flight. Every part of his being had been designed for this, and he trained his focus ahead with unila
teral concentration.

  Humbert might be larger, with a much greater wingspan. But Mathieu was agile, and he seemed to see the fading form of the dragon even if our human eyes could not.

  We watched until nothing was left in the sky but sky, and the first snowflakes began to fall, marring the expanse with yet another thing that was outside of our control.

  Chapter 30

  Night fell before the effect Gustave had over Grand-mère eased. She wasn’t fully herself yet, but she was close to it. Besides, Marcelo was unwilling to wait for answers any longer, despite Mordecai’s frequent glances pregnant with warning. Marcelo was intent on taking action, and the only one there that could provide them with useful information was Grand-mère.

  My stomach growled, not for the first time, while I studied Grand-mère’s face by the flickering flames of the roaring fire. I searched for the usual signs of intelligence across her features. They were returning, but not nearly as rapidly as any one of us wished.

  “I think you can give up on your watch now, Sir Lancelot,” Mordecai said. The owl, and occasionally Gertrude, had been faithful to his post. He hadn’t abandoned it for a moment since suspicion arose around Gustave.

  “If it’s just the same to you, Lord Mordecai, I’d prefer to continue.”

  “But surely you can’t see anything out there.”

  “I can. If you recall, my mother was from Ireland, and my father, rogue that he was, came from Scotland. My blood carries cold and harsh weather within it. My eyes can see through almost anything the sky can throw down upon us.”

  “You may be able to see, but I can’t imagine anyone else can. It’s almost a wall of white out there. No one will be crazy enough to attempt the climb up the mountain to the castle in this weather.”

  “Unless he doesn’t climb, but rather hovers, as you do in the approach to Irele. If a wizard were to float up the mountain by magic, the snow wouldn’t hinder him, but rather serve as a tactical advantage. He could take us by surprise and be at our door before we have the chance to react.