Milk & Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  “Ouch,” I said. “But the real story is here. Did people believe his version of events?”

  “For a while, yes. It wasn’t spread by him. He sent the story on the air, and it was infused within our awareness. It wasn’t until he’d been gone for decades that the power of the story finally faded.”

  “Poor Wilshire,” I murmured, staring at the page. “She’d be mighty annoyed to know the Rages were in danger of returning.”

  Sebille closed her book, her expression thoughtful.

  “So, how did it end?” I asked the Sprite.

  She sighed. “About like you’d expect. The girl dies, but not before she gets word to the Universe. The Wizard had won. He had all of the people ensnared in his magic. Anyone with any power was imprisoned in the caves of that ugly rock formation outside. But at the moment of the Seer’s death, her body transformed to a message on the wind, and the message flew past the Wizard’s perception, making it out into the universe.”

  “Unfortunately, it still took decades for the Soldiers of Good to get past the Wizard’s army and enter Plex. This history says they dropped from the sky on silver dragons and took Plex back.”

  “The Wizard?” Walt asked.

  Sebille shrugged. “Nobody’s sure. One of his guards insisted he blew himself up and disintegrated on the air to avoid being captured. But one Soldier for Good proclaimed he’d seen the Wizard leap on one of his black-clad dragons and fly off in the direction of the gate. His body has never been found, and no one has reported seeing him.”

  “I think we need to assume he’s still here and still manufacturing trouble,” I told them.

  Sebille nodded.

  I looked at Walt. “What’s your book about?”

  He frowned, closing the book and sitting back in his chair. His green eyes looked weary, and there were dark circles underneath them. “It covers the time after Plex was returned to the Universe. The irreversible changes to the land and the Seers who were left behind.”

  “Changes? What kinds of changes?”

  “Well, for one, the Wizard’s magic poisoned the processes of the gate. It became fickle, unpredictable, and the Seers no longer fully controlled it.”

  “What about the Seers?” Sebille asked.

  He frowned. “That’s harder to measure. Before the Rages, there were two-dozen Seer families. Their power was strong and their magics were interlinked like a complex puzzle. But the Wizard’s magic made subtle changes to the links, corrupting them so that they no longer fit tightly together.”

  “Which is why the gate magics no longer worked,” Sebille speculated.

  Walt shrugged. “Maybe. Though scholars aren’t sure if that was the case, or if it worked the other way around.”

  “That their magic didn’t work because the gate was corrupt,” I said, nodding. “Chicken or egg…”

  Walt looked confused by my analogy but didn’t ask for clarification. “Some of the families began to die off as if the imperfections in their magics were killing them. Others lost their magic entirely. As the years rolled past, their legacy was erased as thoroughly as if it had never been.”

  “But some of the families must have kept their magic?” I said. “You still had Seers.”

  “Yes. ten families.” His expression turned sad. “Now, many of those are gone too.”

  “I can’t believe their disappearance is just a coincidence,” I said. “It has to be tied to what’s going on with the dimensional breach.”

  “I agree,” he said. “But I couldn’t tell you how.”

  “Is it possible one of the remaining Seers used the remnants of the Wizard’s magic to enhance their power?” Sebille asked.

  “I guess it’s possible,” Walt agreed. “Or that one of them was actually working with him all along. But if that’s the case, the individual has stayed dormant for a long time. What would have spurred the changes now?”

  We sat in thought for a long moment, staring into the blazing fire Diandra had built to stave off the chill of the stormy night outside.

  The door opened and I jumped, turning to find Diandra with her arms filled with wood for the fire. She slid a speculative glance over us. “Finished?”

  We nodded. Walt jumped up to grab the wood from her, organizing it into a neat pile on the hearth.

  “Good. I’ve made stew. We can talk about it over our meal.”

  I suddenly realized Wicked and gang hadn’t come back yet. Sighing unhappily, I realized I was going to have to trudge out into the cold, rainy night to find them. Glancing at the others, I said, “I’ll go fetch the children.”

  Sebille and I shared a smile.

  To my surprise, she stood too. “I’ll go with you.”

  16

  Dank, Dark Magic

  As we stepped out into the night, a cold, wet breeze flashed past, filled with the sour stench of an old fire. I tugged my muddy, tattered coat around me, wishing the little hut had a washing machine. My gaze slid to Diandra’s working fire, seeing only a vaguely circular black stain on the ground.

  “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did. The Seer was burned pretty badly.”

  Sebille held out a hand, suffused with a gentle green illumination to light our way. “My energy feels different here.”

  I nodded. “Mine is much stronger. It has something to do with the fact that it’s a non-magical place, I think.”

  She didn’t respond, so I glanced her way. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering if it was more than that. This place…” she swept a hand around us, encompassing everything hidden by the darkness. “It doesn’t feel empty of magic. If anything, it feels almost too full.”

  I thought about it, throwing out my sensing magics and feeling a thickness throbbing on the air that hadn’t been there before. Or, at least it hadn’t been there in Wilshire Plex. I hadn’t really tested it since arriving at the border. “Maybe you’re feeling the dimensional gate.”

  “Maybe.” She squinted into the darkness. “That’s where you sent the kids to play?”

  The black exterior of the rocky ridge rose high above us, the craggy rock looking like a demonic face in the rainy dark. It definitely looked more foreboding at night.

  “It didn’t look so intimidating earlier.”

  As we started off, I turned to her and asked, “Did you find out what happened to Rustin and Sadie?”

  She nodded, looking unhappy. “They’re okay. It’s like I suspected, Madeline pulled them back when she felt Rustin losing energy. I got her to promise she wouldn’t hurt Sadie, and I told her I’d like to keep her.”

  “Do you think she’ll honor that promise?”

  “Yeah. She’s scary, but she adores her niece and Maude made her promise, so…”

  We approached a large opening in roughly the center of the ridge. Its outline looked as if it had been cut from the rock by hand. As we approached, I added my own gentle glow to Sebille’s, scouring the ground in front of the opening for hobgoblin and cat-like prints.

  I saw only a mash of mud and puddles, with one enormous print that clearly belonged to Kanish. “They’re definitely in there,” I told Sebille, as if she’d voiced concern that they weren’t. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I’d been a little concerned myself.

  We stepped inside, and it felt as if we’d stepped into a different world.

  The cold damp of the exterior gave way to bone-deep arctic temps that had my teeth chattering within moments. A grave-like cold.

  The air smelled stale and dusty, filled with scents from long ago that had been trapped by the thick rock walls. The silence was the worst aspect. It was a deep, unnatural silence that pulsed against my skin, bringing with it a feeling of hopelessness that made me want to cry.

  “I can’t believe you sent them here,” Sebille said, glaring over at me.

  I grimaced but didn’t try to defend myself. There really was no defense. “We need to find them.” Irrational fear overwhelmed me. My heart pounded agai
nst my ribs, my mind playing dire music that would have been right at home in a gore-filled horror movie. I took off nearly running without a plan beyond finding Wicked, Slimy, and Hobs and scuttling safely out of that terrible place.

  Sebille caught up with me, grabbing my arm and wrenching me to a halt. Her iridescent green eyes glowed softly. They were unusually wide, and her lips were pinched. She rested her forehead against mine and spoke in a whisper. “We’re being watched.”

  I lifted my head and looked around, the panic that had sent me scurrying tripling within the beat of a heart. “Where!”

  “Shhhh!” Sebille tugged my arm with hurtful fingers. “They’re everywhere and nowhere. Don’t let them know we see them.”

  The ridiculousness of that statement sliced through my instinctual fear. I frowned. “But we don’t see them. At least, I don’t. Do you?”

  Sebille’s gaze slid over the walls, her hand lifting to shine light over the dry, craggy surface. We were surrounded on all sides by rock. The space was circular, like a well.

  I frowned, fear tearing at me with razor-sharp claws. “How’d we get inside a well.”

  “Miss?”

  Our heads shot up, up, up, and we saw Hobs’ big blue eyes staring down at us, the shock of light brown hair between his ears bobbing with his movements. “What are you doing down there?”

  Sebille and I looked at each other. I could tell from her expression that she, like me, had no idea how we’d gotten there.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, Hobs. We weren’t here a minute ago. Where’s Wicked?”

  “Meow!”

  The sound reverberated around us, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. A shadow moved low on one wall, the form familiar and sleek. Like my cat, the form had a long tail that whipped the air behind him. “Wicked?” I rushed over, finding only a shadow sliding over the rocky surface. “Where are you?”

  “You know you really shouldn’t have sent us in here by ourselves,” the frog said. I glanced toward Sebille and saw Slimy’s face superimposed over hers. Unlike normal, his froggy lips moved when he spoke. Though, the judgy tone he was using was pure Sebille. “What kind of mother sends her children into an ancient prison filled with dark magical influences?”

  I stared into the bulgy, judgy black eyes. “I…I’m not your mother.”

  Yeah, that really was the best I could come up with. But in my defense, things were a bit upside down and backward.

  Fire shot past high over Hobs’ head. Kanish’s leonine head appeared above him. Her beautiful, slanted gaze peered down at us, a gleam filling them that made me uncomfortable. I watched in horror as the dragon’s wide maw opened, revealing a deadly mouth full of sharp, ripping teeth. She lowered the teeth toward Hobs, who seemed strangely oblivious to her presence there.

  I tried to scream his name, terror making it impossible as the air locked in my chest. Hobs and Kanish disappeared.

  A sharp crack made Sebille and me jump. A second cracking sound was louder, and went on much longer, as the walls around us began to fracture and fall away, raining down on us as we stood helpless in the center of the space, with nothing to do but hold our arms over our heads.

  A horrendous groaning sound drew my gaze upward, and I barely had time to scream before the bulk of the rock wall fell onto us.

  I woke up to the icy fall of rain on my face. My back ached. My arms and legs felt weak, too drained to move.

  I opened my eyes, squinting against the constant fall of rain. The liquid hit my eyes and burned, making it nearly impossible to keep them open.

  But I forced them open anyway, the feeling that were weren’t alone making me uncomfortable.

  He wore a dark robe, the hood completely covering his face, and was flinging dust into a fire that burned brightly despite the torrential rains.

  I shoved to my elbows, looking around. We were on top of the ridge. The same ridge where the Wizard and poor Wilshire Montague had their last conversation. Gritting my teeth, I pushed to a sitting position, my hand brushing up against something warm and squishy.

  Sebille was stretched out beside me, her bright red hair glowing through the dark. I felt for her pulse and found it strong and steady.

  But she was out.

  “Who are you? What’s going on? Where are my friends?”

  The man in the robe continued to throw dust into the fire, sending multi-hued flame into the air around him. Smoke billowed up to the sky, but I couldn’t smell it. And I realized the Seer wasn’t real either. He was simply another vision brought on by the residual magic of the caves.

  We needed to get out of there.

  But as I stood, The Seer at the fire said, “Between your hopes and expectations.”

  I turned back. If he could talk to me, maybe I could talk to him. I really needed some answers. “Who’s manipulating the dimensional gate? How do I stop him?”

  The man continued to fling dust into the fire for long enough that I didn’t think he was going to respond. Then his head slowly lifted. I saw dark eyes under a greasy fringe of hair above a grungy face. “Between your hopes and expectations.” He tugged a pocket watch from his robes, poking at it with a thick, dusty digit. “Time is precious. Guard it well.”

  And he disappeared.

  “Miss?”

  Hands shook my shoulders.

  “Miss? Wake up.”

  A distant rumbling sound wove its way into my dreams, the sound like a beacon calling me back to consciousness.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  The goat! I’d forgotten about Adelaide. I always forgot about poor Adelaide.

  I moved, dust flaring up around me, and sneezed so hard it wrenched me awake. “Ugh!” I groaned, rolling to my side. “What hit me?”

  Hobs twisted his lips to the side. “Sorry, Miss. It was the only way to wake you up.”

  “Meow,” Wicked said. He jumped onto my chest, looking down at me. “Meow?”

  “I’m okay, buddy. I think.”

  “Gargoyle goobers,” Sebille groaned beside me. “What hit me?”

  Hobs’ oversized head seemed to sink into his scrawny shoulders.

  “It wasn’t you, Hobs,” I told him. “It was dark magic.” I looked at the Sprite. “Did you see the guy in the robes?”

  Her expression clearly showed her confusion. “No. Worse. I spoke to Madeline.”

  “Quilleran?” I asked, shocked. “What did she say?”

  “Gobbledygook. Something about being between expectations.”

  “Between your hopes and expectations?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, that was it. Like I said, gobbledygook.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I pushed to my feet. “Come on, we need to go talk to Walt.”

  “I told you, I don’t know what it means,” Walt said. “Nobody understands the Seer’s proclamations.”

  I shook my head. “Just because you don’t understand them doesn’t mean they aren’t important.”

  Walt frowned.

  I stared at him for a moment, seeing the lie sliding through his gaze. “You’ve been living with a secret for a long time, haven’t you, Walt?”

  Everyone looked at me, a question in their gazes. But Walt wouldn’t lift his gaze to mine. He was staring determinedly at the floor.

  “You suspected the truth when you read the histories, didn’t you? You didn’t want to face it, but it was always there, nudging you, helping you out of difficult situations.”

  “What are you talking about?” Diandra asked, frowning.

  “Magic,” Sebille said, her bright, green gaze sliding to mine. “He’s a descendant.”

  Walt flinched as if struck. “No.”

  “Yes, Walt,” I told him gently. “The green hair and green eyes are a dead giveaway. All Seers have them. It’s a trait implying magic.” I knew that only because of the history I’d read. The knowledge had never been dispersed to the general public. Walt’s friends and neighbors wouldn’t know unless they spent time at the gat
e, around the other Seers. And that was just never done.

  Sebille slowly lifted her gaze to Diandra and the other woman flinched. She grabbed a strand of her red hair. “It’s dyed. I like red.”

  Sebille narrowed her eyes but returned her attention to me.

  Walt shook his head again, still refusing to look at me.

  “You shoved the magic away. Your family wanted nothing to do with it, did they? They didn’t want the responsibility. They knew there was danger involved. And the Wizard was still out there, somewhere. Being a distant relative of Wilshire Montague’s would be like a neon sign over your heads. You didn’t want the Wizard to find you.”

  A moment passed before Walt lifted his head. I pulled air into my lungs in a surprised gasp as his black gaze fell onto mine. So quickly I could have convinced myself I’d imagined it, he blinked and the magic fell away, leaving only the grassy green of his natural gaze behind. He sighed. “It burns beneath my skin, calls to me. The magic is a gift. It has no business being repressed.”

  I nodded. “You’ve always wanted to pursue your destiny, haven’t you? You wanted to tell your parents, your grandparents, that you were going to fulfill the legacy they’d rejected. But they begged you…pleaded with you not to do it. And you knew it would bring the Wizard down on their heads if you did. All of them. Old and young alike, would die under his hand.”

  Walt slid a gaze toward Diandra. Her gaze was a glossy, terrifying black. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

  She gave her head a little shake. “You have a goddess-given calling. You hid behind fear and left the danger to others. You’re disgusting.” The Seer turned and walked out into the night, rage visible in every line of her slight body.

  Walt shook his head. “She doesn’t understand. No one who has never had a family would understand. I’d do anything to protect them.”

  I wondered how many others in Plex had gone underground after the Dark Rages. How many others had done what Seers don’t generally do…had large families, lived normal, happy lives without the threat of death and destruction hanging over their heads?