by J. A. White
Kara nervously handed the grimoire to Taff and hugged him tight. She whispered something softly in his ear and he looked up at her with disbelief.
“Now!” Rygoth exclaimed. Her forces, emboldened by their master, had reassembled behind her.
Soldiers and witches parted, creating a path for the boy. The grimoire looked huge in his hands. He shifted it in his grip, struggling to maintain his hold.
“Faster!” Rygoth exclaimed.
Taff quickened his pace and the book slipped out of his hands. It spread open on the ground in front of him. He bent down to pick it up, and the moment his hands touched the surface he looked back at Kara and grinned.
“You were right!” he said.
Without a moment’s hesitation Taff read the words that had appeared on the page before him. It was a strange language that had never been spoken by a boy before, for only girls were allowed to use grimoires. At least, that had been true while they were under Evangeline’s spell.
Things were different now.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Rygoth screamed. “YOU CAN’T USE—”
Two black fangs exploded from her mouth, rendering the rest of her words unintelligible. Rygoth watched in growing horror as segmented legs covered with tiny hairs burst through her white gloves in the place where her hands used to be. She fell to the ground as four more legs grew from her body. Kara had one last look at Rygoth’s multicolored eyes and then they cracked like a shell, the pieces falling into the grass as two new orbs—these black and glossy—pushed their way to the surface.
The Spider Queen was a spider once more.
Rygoth’s troops fled into the trees of the Thickety. Releasing its hold on Lucas, the python followed suit.
Meanwhile, the spider began to shrink. First it was the size of a child, then a small dog, and then a tarantula. Eventually it would be no bigger than any other spider, at which point it would be able to escape into the grass with ease.
Lucas stepped on it before that could happen.
There was a lot of shouting and celebration after that. People hugged her and a bearded man lifted her high into the air and twirled her all around, and the boy who had stepped on the spider kissed her on the lips, which was strange but nice. She was confused but not unhappy, because obviously these people cared about her and she must have cared about them in return. It was only hours later, when she was alone with the little boy who had cast the last spell, that she finally asked the question that had been plaguing her all night.
“Who am I?”
The boy put his arms around her and began to cry.
The Shadow Festival would begin in just a few hours and Taff couldn’t wait. He stared at his reflection in the mirror: red eyes and an elongated snout set over thick black fur. The paper-mâché mask had taken him weeks to make and he was proud of it.
“Scary,” Safi said, peeking over his shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” Taff asked. He took off his mask, freeing unruly blond hair. “You’ve never attended a Shadow Festival before. You knock on people’s doors and they have to give you candy.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Why would anyone want to miss that?”
“There’ll be sweets at the dance, too,” Safi said, smiling. “And I’ve had enough of monsters. Even the make-believe kind.”
At thirteen, Safi was a year older than him and more interested in fancy dresses than childish costumes. She had grown tall and elegant, and though she was still beset by the occasional nightmare, Safi’s green eyes had returned to their playful, twinkling form. Taff saw the way other boys’ heads turned when she passed. He wasn’t jealous—absolutely not—but the idea of one of them dancing with his best friend tonight twisted his stomach into tight knots.
Am I too old for this? Taff wondered, looking down at the mask in his hands. Should I go to the dance too?
“Next year,” Safi said, reading his thoughts as always. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this. You should enjoy it.” She nudged him playfully. “And save a few houses for me. I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Great!” Taff exclaimed, beaming. He already knew one house he would definitely reserve for her. A young woman who had recently settled on the island had turned her cornfield into a maze, and she made cider dumplings that were, if rumor could be believed, as good as Widow Miller’s had been.
Taff was about to tell Safi all about it when there came a knocking at the door.
“It’s probably Lucas,” Taff said, crossing the room. “He wants everything to be perfect and there are tons of last-minute details to—”
Taff opened the door. The rest of his sentence froze on his lips.
“I’ve come for what’s mine,” said Querin Fyndrake.
The master of the Hourglass Tower had not changed much in the intervening years. His clothes were still lavish, his beard well oiled. His eyes still twitched from side to side like a pendulum.
Safi looked down at the small man in disgust.
“He’s exactly how you described him,” she said.
“Handsome?” Querin asked. “Magnificent?”
“Monstrous.”
“Ah,” Querin said, glaring at Safi. “What’s your name?”
“Why? Want me to carve it into your door?”
“If you’d like,” Querin replied, grinning. “The Khr’nouls have been particularly hungry lately, and I’m always on the lookout for fresh sacrifices.”
Taff’s legs wobbled, and he leaned against a nearby table in order to remain steady. He had been expecting this moment for the past four years, but now that it was actually happening he felt woefully ill-prepared.
I need another week, he thought. Even just a few more days . . .
“Come on, boy,” Querin said, stepping aside to allow him room to pass. “Let’s get this business over with. I’ve experiments to attend to.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Safi said.
“The boy agreed to a magical pact,” Querin said, “and there’s nothing that you, him, or I can do to change that.”
He reached forward, intending to grab Taff by the arm and drag him outside, but his hand smacked into an invisible wall.
“What’s this?” Querin asked, clutching his hand with pain.
“A spell I put on the house,” Safi said. “No one can enter without being invited first. I got the idea from a bedtime story my father once told me about bloodsucking creatures who lived forever. Reminded me of you, for some reason.”
Taff drew the slingshot from his belt and aimed it at Querin’s face.
“Really?” asked the man with growing impatience. “A magic slingshot? I am immortal. You can’t hurt me with invisible pellets.”
“I know,” Taff said. “But that was my other slingshot. This one’s new.”
Bending down to create a better angle, Taff shot over Querin’s head and into the sky. A trail of purple light blazed from his slingshot, like a shooting star in reverse. It rose above the beautiful trees of the Thickety and then exploded with a thunderous noise that shook the entire island. Colored light fell like rain and evaporated into a blue mist that hovered just above the ground.
Querin, who had fallen to the ground during this unexpected display, stared back at Taff in confusion.
“What did you do that for?” he asked.
Taff felt no need to reply, for the answer to his question was already here. He simply waited for Querin to turn around and see it for himself.
Witches.
Upon seeing Taff’s signal they had come immediately. Some rode fantastic beasts. Some flew on one enchanted contraption or another. Some just appeared out of nowhere.
They all carried grimoires.
Within moments the clearing was packed with women, men, and children eager to defend a boy they all loved dearly. Taff saw Lucas and his grandfather West, Bethany and Mary Kettle, Sordyr and Breem. At the head of this welcome procession rode Father.
The sight of his friends bolste
red Taff’s spirits, and he spoke to Querin with renewed courage.
“Perhaps you haven’t heard,” he said, “since you’ve been trapped in your little tower all this time, but after the Spider Queen was defeated there were a lot of witches looking for a home. Not just the ones who had fought in the final battle, but those in the Well of Witches too. See, when Princess Evangeline’s spirit was freed, the Well changed back into Phadeen—the paradise that Minoth Dravania had originally created for the students of Sablethorn—and all the witches who had been imprisoned there were free to reenter the world.”
“They were confused at first,” Mary added. “But we gathered them here in the Thickety and did our best to ease their transition, help them understand what had happened. Some chose to stay in Phadeen and start new lives there. Others remained with us. The Thickety became their sanctuary.”
“And so, with Sentium’s blessing, we decided to rebuild Sablethorn and train these witches properly,” Sordyr said, indicating the giant pyramid nestled beneath the trees behind him. “I asked my mentor Minoth Dravania to reclaim his old position as headmaster, but he chose to remain in Phadeen. Mary and I share leadership of the school, while my friend William Westfall here runs things on the island.”
“And all three of us,” Father said, “order you to leave my son alone.”
As their leaders spoke, the witches had gathered into a large circle that completely surrounded Querin. Now they opened their grimoires. Pages flapped in the late autumn wind.
If Querin was the slightest bit unnerved, he hid it well.
“Look at all these marvelous witches you’ve assembled,” he said, a mocking curl to his lips. “At one point, I might have even been intimidated. But I’ve watched from my tower, and I know that things are different now. Back when these spellbooks got their power from the Well of Witches, they could do truly remarkable things. But without the darkness at their core—what are they good for? A few tricks, nothing more. You think you’ve saved magic? You’ve only weakened it.”
He was right, of course. The grimoires were no longer evil, but they wielded less power. In Taff’s opinion, this was a more than fair exchange, but he was disappointed that their enemy knew the truth.
Shaking his head, Querin pulled out a gold pocket watch on a chain and checked the time.
“Enough,” he said, snapping the lid of the watch closed. “This conversation is meaningless. I cannot undo the boy’s pact—it is with the Khr’nouls. I am simply here to deliver him. If I do not do so in time, the Khr’nouls will come for him themselves. You really don’t want that to happen. They will destroy everyone on this island to get to their prize. There’s no magic in this world that can stop them!”
Looking at something past Querin, Taff smiled.
“We’ll see about that,” he said.
The witches parted and a tall figure rode past them on a black mare. She was seventeen and achingly beautiful, with long hair that flew freely in the wind. Her dark eyes settled on Querin and he seemed to shrink beneath her gaze.
“So you’re him,” Kara said. “I must confess, the memory of your face was not one I minded losing.”
Querin looked up at her, baffled.
“Impossible,” he said. “I saw what happened to you. Magic wiped your mind completely clean.”
“True,” Kara said. “And were I not surrounded by people dedicated to rebuilding those lost memories—with patience, compassion, and long stories by firelight—I might have been lost forever. But even when I didn’t recognize their faces, I felt their love—and that was what saved me. Since then I’ve replenished my lost memories with plenty of new ones. Life has been kind.”
“Until today,” Querin said, regaining his composure. “Your brother carved his name into my door. I will have what’s mine.”
Kara slid off Shadowdancer’s back. She knelt in front of the man until they were face-to-face. Her black eyes seemed to grow even darker. Querin swallowed nervously and a bead of sweat ran down his temple.
Taff loved his sister more than anyone in the world, but even he had to admit that she could be a little scary sometimes.
“Do you really think that I will let you take my brother?” she asked quietly.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Darno trotted lazily into the open circle and took a seat behind Kara, his scorpion tail raised high in the air.
“There’s always a choice,” Kara said. “For me—and for you. Leave this island. Go in peace. This needn’t end badly.”
“Enough!” Querin exclaimed, stomping his foot down like a petulant child. “There’s nothing you can do to save him! Even if you somehow manage to kill me, the Khr’nouls will come for the boy anyway. But let me take him to the Hourglass Tower, where the sacrifice can be completed safely, and no harm will come to anyone else.”
“And if I refuse?” Kara asked.
“Then I summon the Khr’nouls here right now,” Querin said. “Everyone dies!”
Taff saw Sordyr shift uneasily in his saddle. The library from the old Sablethorn had been moved here, and Sordyr had spent months reading everything he could about the terrifying Khr’nouls. They were ancient gods that could only come when summoned, and only a fool or one attempting to gain great power would do so. Querin had been the latter. In his youth, he had called forth the Khr’nouls, thinking that he could control them, and they had destroyed his entire city in a single hour. Tens of thousands of people had perished. The only reason Querin had been spared was his promise to provide his new masters with food for centuries to come.
“For the last time!” Querin exclaimed. “Give me the boy, or I will summon the Khr’nouls right now!”
Kara rose to her full height and breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp air.
“Go right ahead,” she said, stretching her arms high as though awakening from a long nap. “We’ve a lovely island, and I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting their kind before.”
Querin stared at her with disbelief.
“So be it,” he said.
Falling to his knees, Querin clasped his hands and raised them into the air. Beneath his breath he mumbled a complicated string of words that turned his lips dark red and then black. Taff turned to Safi, hoping to hold her hand, but she had taken her place among the other witches.
I hope Kara knows what she’s doing, he thought.
The blue sky suddenly solidified, as though frozen in place. Cloud shards showered the trees, and a crack split the sky. Two gargantuan fingers with knuckles like mountain ridges pried their way into the world. Their mottled skin was comprised of colors that Taff had never seen before, and they filled his mind with strange, violent thoughts.
He looked away.
Pages ruffled as some of the younger witches, and many of the older ones, began to shake in fear. They turned to Kara and drew confidence from her calm demeanor. Taff watched Safi take the hand of the little blond-haired girl next to her, and this girl linked hands with an old man particularly good at levitation spells. The old man held hands with Bethany . . . and on and on it went, hands clasping together until the circle was closed.
The grimoires floated in front of the witches, waiting to be read.
“Together!” Kara exclaimed.
She closed her eyes. Taff could tell, from the strain on his sister’s face and the rapid flickering of her eyelids, that she was attempting to build a mind-bridge to the Khr’nouls. It would have been an impossible feat, even for a wexari as powerful as Kara. She was, after all, just a single witch.
Only she wasn’t alone anymore.
In unison, the witches began to chant from their grimoires, and Kara’s face relaxed as new power surged into her, augmenting her spell. Querin whirled in confusion, unsure what to make of this unexpected development.
A single grimoire is no longer as powerful as it used to be, Taff thought. Querin was right about that. But what he didn’t realize is that witches can now link their magic together, creating spells more pow
erful than ever.
Kara no longer wielded the power of a single witch. She was guiding an army of minds joined together in their desire to drive evil from the world.
“Leave . . . my brother . . . alone!” Kara exclaimed.
From behind the parted sky came a teeth-grinding wail of fury, and then the fingers withdrew in defeat. The sun returned to its rightful place in the sky, shedding light on Kara’s smiling face.
“Return to your tower,” she told Querin, who was now looking at her with something approaching awe. “Live out the last of your days. Don’t bother trying to make any more sacrifices to the Khr’nouls. They will not come again.”
“Why not?”
Kara leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
“Because they’re afraid of me.”
Querin’s eyes widened. He fumbled with shaking hands for the watch in his pocket, finally managing to set it free, and pressed a button on the top. He vanished.
They never saw him again.
That night, the inhabitants of the Thickety were in a celebratory mood. Fireworks rose high above the new Sablethorn. The town square rumbled with music and dancing. Costumed children paraded through the streets, filling their sacks with sweets and their minds with memories.
Kara stood on the edge of the crowd and waited for Lucas.
She was wearing a red dress embroidered with black swirls, a gift from Mary Kettle. Around her neck she wore her mother’s wooden locket with the seashell crest, and in her hair she wore a neat bow tied with red ribbon. It was the only thing she remembered of the girl named Grace Stone, and though they might have been enemies, it felt right to have a piece of her here tonight.
Kara caught sight of Lucas approaching through the crowd. He was wearing dark breeches and a pressed white shirt. His eyes met hers, and Kara’s heart fluttered with excitement.
“I was wondering, miss,” Lucas asked, bowing, “if I could have the first dance?”