“Madge is what you protagonists might call a Half-Legacy. Of course, her bloodline is of the villainous nature. Madge’s older sister Lydia had an on odd fetish for taxidermy, which she combined with a nice mix of homicidal tendencies and an affinity for inn-keeping. Regrettably, the Ravelli police eventually caught her.
“Lydia and her immediate family, who knew about her exploits, were thrown into Alderon as punishment. Wolflizards killed her parents within a year. But Lydia escaped through a hole in the In and Out Spell that she was lucky enough to find.
“With Lydia gone and her parents dead, Madge was left alone in Alderon for years. She didn’t see her sister again until eighteen months ago when the woman came back. Evidently Lydia had been on Earth for a while keeping up with her hobbies in a town called England but was drawing too much heat. So she decided to retire here. Unfortunately, ogres killed her a week later. Bad luck, but such is life. Anyways, Madge is kind of bonkers from her scarred childhood, but she’s got her wits about her for basic stuff. And she likes to keep her sister’s memory alive by carrying on the same work.”
“Drink, drink,” Madge said, tapping on the table to get my attention then pointing at my teacup with a wrinkly finger.
“Seriously, princess,” Goldilocks said. “You best consume something or this is going to be the most anticlimactic fight since the afternoon I tackled that sheep.” She gestured at a taxidermy sheep in the corner that had been converted into an umbrella holder.
My eyes fell upon the tea. Steam wafted from the cup, tempting me with its warmth. I was pretty cold, and I suddenly realized how empty my stomach was.
While I utterly disliked the taste of tea, the ravenous pit that my stomach had been reduced to felt so barren that for a second I gave in to the temptation. I picked up the cup and inhaled its heat and scent.
Almonds, I thought as the smell filled my nostrils. It smells like almonds, but also something else, something familiar . . . Hmm. What is that? And why does it remind me of school?
I brought the brim of the cup to my cracked lips. Then I paused. Looking up at Goldilocks—her fair skin, mean eyes, and her lush blonde hair—I was reminded of my school nemesis, Mauvrey. I recalled our first day back at school this semester when my friends and I stood outside the banquet hall exchanging spite with the evil daughter of Sleeping Beauty and her posse.
“I mean honestly, SJ,” Mauvrey had said as she eyed my friend up and down. “I have always wanted to ask, did no one ever warn your mother not to take food from strangers? Any fool with half a brain knows that. It is practically rule one.”
The recollection and my own instinct (suppressed by hunger and cold) turned on like a light in my head. A dozen different things clicked at once, and I put the tea down and rose from the table.
My eyes darted from the steaming beverage to the guestbook and then all the taxidermy animals. I turned to Goldilocks. “You told Madge that five hundred pounds was a lot of money. You don’t intend to capture me to get the full reward. You’re planning on handing me over to Arian already dead.”
Madge had gotten off the table and was now standing on my right. Her previous mutterings echoed in the back of my head. “Roll doll . . .” I mused aloud. My eyes widened as my subconscious found what it needed to. Roald Dahl.
Another memory surfaced, this time of Blue during her “Villains of other Realms” phase two years ago. The girl was obsessed with fairytale history and she often yammered on about her latest research whenever there was someone around to listen. It could be annoying. But in moments like this, I was glad I didn’t always tune her out.
She’d once told me about a villainess known as the Landlady who lured travelers into her inn, had them sign a guestbook, then poisoned and stuffed them with her taxidermy skills. A fellow on Earth called Roald Dahl had written the story. But there was a copy in the history section of our school’s library because the tale was based on a woman who was said to have come from Book.
I now regarded the tea on the table anew as one last remembrance snapped into place. That wasn’t almonds I’d smelled; it was cyanide, which smelled surprisingly similar. We’d learned about it in potions class last year when we were studying homemade poison.
Oh, crud. They want to kill me with tea and stuff me like a hunted animal before they turn me over to Arian!
I took a step back from Madge. A shiver passed through my body. “What happened to ‘I like my opponents at their best’?” I asked Goldilocks. “What kind of a win is it if you poison me? That’s such a cop out.”
The conversation was a means of stalling while I formed a plan. The exit was on the other side of the room—Goldilocks’s side. There was no way I’d get there before she stopped me, especially if I had to grab and carry Daniel’s orb. I needed a little bit of chaos.
I grasped my wandpin from my bra strap, concealing the movement as a subtle, unconscious touching of my neck.
“We were just having a bit of fun,” Goldilocks said coolly. “What’s the matter, Crisanta? Don’t you like games?”
“Not when people play dirty.”
“I play to win. The purity of my choices has nothing to do with it.”
“Good,” I said. “Then you’ll appreciate what I have to do next.”
My eyes darted to Madge. Goldilocks reached for her belt. I grasped the old woman by the back of the neck and pulled her in front of me just as Goldilocks drew her crossbow.
Lapellius.
Knife.
“Drop it,” I said, holding the knife to Madge’s neck.
Goldilocks had her crossbow aimed at us. There was a slight hesitation in her eyes at first, but then her lips curved into a small smile. “You won’t do it,” she said. “You’re a protagonist. You’re not capable of it.”
I glanced at Daniel’s orb then back at Goldilocks. My expression narrowed. “I am a protagonist,” I said. “And that means I’m capable of anything.”
“Then I guess we’re not so different.” Goldilocks said. With that, she fired her crossbow. I pushed Madge to the right as I dove left. Dual arrows connected by silver lanyard shot out of the contraption, barely missing us both.
I dashed around the side of the table and lunged for Daniel’s orb. A split-second before my fingers grazed it, Goldilocks fired again. Two more arrows shot out and my wrist was ensnared by the silver lanyard that connected them.
The arrows impaled the table behind me, pinning my hand down. Goldilocks reloaded her crossbow. I pressed down on the table with my trapped hand—using it for support—then swung up my left leg and kicked the lit chipmunk candelabra clean off the table. It landed on the pelt-covered floor.
Shield.
My shield opened up as Goldilocks fired another set of arrows. They bounced off the metal.
Knife.
I slit the lanyard trapping my hand.
The furry carpet burst into flames from the candelabra and began to spread.
Shield.
Goldilocks launched another shot. I blocked, stepped forward, and spun, releasing my shield like a discus. My aim was flawless. Spinning, the shield smacked into her head and knocked her backwards.
As she careened to the floor I dashed toward the center of the table. Without breaking stride I grabbed Daniel’s orb with one hand and my shield with the other as I passed Goldilocks.
The fire had taken to the pelts faster than I’d anticipated. A third of the room was burning and smoking now. Madge had jumped back on the table and was clutching her knees close to her chest as she shouted nonsense.
I was five feet from the door when Goldilocks recovered from the hit and launched another pair of arrows. The shot ensnared my left ankle mid-step. I went tumbling to ground. It hurt, but the plush bearskin broke my fall. Daniel’s orb rolled free of my grasp, thankfully not breaking.
I pulled myself up and raised my shield against two more arrows. Goldilocks ran at me—storing her crossbow and swapping it for a knife hanging at her belt. I slashed my ankle free of its
entrapment with my own knife then returned my weapon to shield form to protect myself from Goldilocks’s assault.
She drove her blade at my head, where it clashed powerfully against my shield. I gritted my teeth at the impact. With a quick jolt I kicked her knee. She buckled. I twisted. And then I hammered the rim of my shield into her rib cage.
She went down; I jumped up.
Grabbing Daniel’s orb, I bolted out the door into the fortress’s corridor system. As I rounded the corner of the first sharp turn, I heard a familiar screech—the Magistrake. I looked back and saw the creature’s shadow a beat ahead of the creature itself.
“I hope you appreciate what I’m doing for you,” I told Daniel’s orb, which I had tucked under my arm. “If I get killed by a giant lobster or taxidermied, I’ll never forgive you.”
The screech came again, and with it my jokes receded. I ran down the corridor in search of the exit. Had it not been for the tight turns, the monster surely would have caught up with me. Luckily, such turns were easy for me to bank—speedy as I was—whereas a monster of that size had great difficulty. I heard loud bangs and clatterings as the Magistrake crashed into wall after wall in my pursuit.
This bought me the time I needed to reach the main door. When I did I thrust down the lever with a jerk. The chains overhead began to reel back and pull the door up. When it was halfway there I heard another screech, and this time I saw more than a shadow rounding the corner.
The Magistrake was twenty feet away. I thrust the lever in the opposite direction. The door began to lower and I made a break for it. When the door was three feet from the ground I rolled Daniel’s orb beneath it then dove under myself. I toppled into the dirt outside just as the door slammed shut.
My eyes had spent so much time adjusting to the blinding light of the fortress that by comparison the forest was like a splotchy dark void. My vision was super wonky; I could barely see two steps in front of me. Fortunately, Daniel’s orb still glowed with its golden energy.
Suddenly I saw his face appear inside it. I couldn’t hear him, but he was mouthing a word. I picked up the orb and held it close to my face.
“What is it?” I asked.
It looked like one syllable. Maybe it started with an L.
I heard a loud crash behind me. The door to the fortress rattled. I whipped my head back to look at Daniel’s face in the orb. He mouthed the word again then nodded in the direction of the forest I’d come from. At last I understood what he was saying.
“Oh, lake!” I exclaimed. Then my heart stopped for a beat when my ears detected the sound of chains screeching against the weight of the rising door. “Oh, crud.”
I heard Goldilocks’s voice echo beneath the frame of the door. “Go, boy,” she told the Magistrake. “Hunt. Kill.”
“Ready for a swim?” I asked Daniel as I broke into a run. I hugged his orb close to my chest, my eyes trained on the trees.
Silver sparks whirred around me for a few seconds as SJ’s SRB took care of the dirt clinging to my outfit from the dive-and-roll out of the fortress. As the effect simmered away—trailing off my boots—it looked like I was producing some kind of magical backfire.
My eyes finally adjusted to the night. The mountains loomed all around. There were still touches of red in the sky, but the weather felt different—colder, harder. A storm was definitely coming. I could feel it in the atmosphere. The wind was sharp and getting harsher, beginning to whip up blades of grass and shake the trees.
I had put about fifty meters between the fortress and me, and while I couldn’t see it, I could hear the waterfall. It was a reassuring sound, unlike the one I heard next.
The Magistrake had evidently grown tired of waiting. With a crash, it broke through the door and burst into the darkness, Goldilocks close behind. She fired her crossbow and I was grateful for having glanced back. The arrows surely would have ensnared my ankles had I not seen them coming. I was able to leap to the side and evade their capture.
“Ugh, what am I going to do?”
Let her catch you, my subconscious responded.
If I could slap my own internal reasoning I would have. That was a terrible idea.
Then the creature screeched again (much closer this time) and I realized something. I would never be able to outrun it. I would have to kill it, which would mean getting close enough to directly strike its upper chest. When I’d seen it reel back on its hind legs earlier, I’d noticed that the upper chest was its only weak point. My blade merely bounced off the tough shell of scales that protected the rest of its exterior.
I transformed my wand back into pin form and clutched it tightly, concealing it within my left palm. The moment I did, I found myself in a more open area of the woods. Ahead, the massive waterfall poured down, pummeling the lake and dispersing into a connecting ravine.
SCREECH!
The Magistrake’s call pierced the air. I held the orb up to my face. “You wanted me to learn to ask for help?” I asked Daniel’s whirring image, referencing one of the many things he’d lectured me about in the genie lamp. “Well, I could sure use some right now. So hurry up.”
With that, I lobbed his orb through the air and into the lake. When it broke the surface of the water it caused an eruption of golden waves. I spun back around as Goldilocks—now riding the Magistrake—came into view. The luminescent orbs on the monster’s back gave her hair a brilliant glow, even from afar.
Let her catch you, my subconscious repeated.
This time I listened. When Goldilocks fired her crossbow again I chose not to move out of the way fast enough. The arrows’ silver lanyard wrapped around my ankles and pulled me to the ground.
My head hit the dirt. I regained my senses right as the Magistrake hovered over me. Its horrible mouth was open, showing too many teeth to count. A bit of the creature’s drool spattered on my face. The monster drew back a pincer and I made my move. Just as it came closer I transformed my hidden wandpin.
Lapellius.
Spear.
The five-foot-long staff expanded instantly and the blade pierced straight through the Magistrake’s vulnerable chest. I thrust my body to the side to evade the pincer’s needle, which plowed into the ground.
The Magistrake staggered with my spear jammed well inside its body, a greenish ooze leaking down the shaft. Goldilocks toppled off its back. I sat up quickly and tried to pull the ensnarement off my ankles, but it wouldn’t budge.
Goldilocks recovered and drew her knife. “I hope Arian can still identify your body after I’ve chopped it into a million pieces.”
I instinctively reached for my wandpin but came up empty-handed. My weapon was obviously still lodged inside the Magistrake’s body. I reached forward and pulled harder on my restraints.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Goldilocks said angrily. “I’m a career antagonist, but you, Crisanta Knight, are one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met.”
“I feel you,” said a familiar voice. “But you’re still not touching her.”
I whipped my head around. Daniel had emerged from the river and was rushing at Goldilocks, still dripping wet. His sword clashed against her knife. She blocked, whirling around. The silver sparks of Daniel’s SRB encircled them like an erratic cyclone.
Daniel pushed Goldilocks closer to the Magistrake. Their fight grew more perilous because of it. The dying creature’s pincers were thrashing this way and that, adding another threat to their list of things to worry about as they slashed at one another.
Suddenly I knew what Daniel was doing. I knew because I would’ve done the same thing. When the moment was right, Daniel struck Goldilocks on her left side and then kicked her straight back. She stumbled as the Magistrake’s claw came down.
I averted my eyes. Goldilocks screamed as the needle pierced her. Only when the sound dissipated did I turn back.
The highest sphere on the creature’s vertebrae now swirled with Goldilocks’s absorbed essence. Daniel stood over the monster as it collapsed wit
h a final thud. Unlike Goldilocks, it was most certainly beyond resurrection. I’d killed it.
“You okay?” he asked as he came over to me. He kneeled down and slashed the lanyard around my feet with his sword.
“I am now,” I said, rubbing my ankles. I strode over to the monster and withdrew my weapon. “What about you?” I asked as I morphed the spear back to pin form and stored it away. “How was being dematerialized?”
“A lot like being turned into soup. I wouldn’t recommend it.” He nodded toward the woods. “Come on, we should probably keep moving.”
“Not yet,” I said. I began unscrewing the glowing orbs from the Magistrake’s back, all but the one that contained Goldilocks.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You said you didn’t recommend the experience,” I replied. “I don’t know who these people are, but I reckon no one deserves to be kept as a ball of golden gas.” I set the fifth luminescent orb on the grass then glanced back at the orb on the Magistrake’s spine that held Goldilocks. “Well, almost no one.”
Together, Daniel and I launched the five orbs into the lake. “Now we can go,” I said. Golden waves erupted and the surface of the water fizzled. My frown tightened. “And we should probably do it quickly. We may not know who those people are, but if they’re from Alderon then they’re still antagonists.”
“Yeah, for all we know the Wicked Witch of the West could be in there,” Daniel agreed. “And after that lobster attack, I could do without any more surprises for a while.”
“Technically, the odds of the Wicked Witch of the West being in there are slim to none since she’s from Oz, not Book,” I corrected as we began to walk toward the woods. “But I’m with you. No more surprises would be great.”
And then, naturally, we fell through a black hole that spontaneously appeared in the ground.
’m not sure I’ll ever get used to feeling like a crouton in a salad spinner.
We had gone through a black wormhole once before when we went to Earth in pursuit of Ashlyn.
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