by E. G. Foley
“Don’t do that. You’ll put us all to sleep,” Dani said, then dropped into one of the plump brown leather club chairs.
Jake was so tired that he tripped on the fringed edge of the Persian carpet. Then he used his telekinesis to close the red velvet curtains over the tall windows and the French doors, shutting out the night.
Brian looked around at everything in wonder. Tilting his head back, he studied the gilt-lettered motto of the Order painted, frieze-like, around the base of the second-floor walkway.
Perstamus Amicitiis Defendere.
Never had the slogan seemed more fitting than tonight.
“We stand in friendship to defend,” Brian murmured.
“Why, I’m impressed,” Archie said as he went around lighting candles.
Brian gave a weary smile. “Don’t be. It’s the only Latin I know.”
In the far corner, a stately floor globe tracked the locations of all Lightriders out on their missions with tiny pinpricks of light. Alas, the globe had gone distressingly dark these days, after so many Lightriders had been kidnapped by the Dark Druids.
Jake’s stomach twisted at the thought of Dani ever becoming one of them, but he was too tired to contemplate it at the moment.
“So, where is this Inkbug?” Nixie asked with a yawn.
“Over here.” Jake passed the wooden card catalog with its countless little drawers and stalked over to the big oak desk in the middle of the room.
Seeing it brought back a memory that would be forever etched upon his mind: the night Derek had sat there telling Jake who his parents were, explaining the existence of a whole magical world that he had never dreamed could be real.
It seemed like centuries ago.
When he reached the desk, he glanced around at his friends and was pained to see Isabelle gazing sadly at the little bonsai tree on display atop the long, narrow table that backed one of the couches. It was a miniature yew—the tree chosen as the symbol of the Order because it represented eternal life, the spirit in a person that could not be killed.
Because of their unique way of growing, ever renewing themselves, yew trees could last for thousands of years. Yet tonight, Jake had personally witnessed one’s death. No—not just his death, naturally passing on his mantle to one of his tree offspring. The Old Father Yew had been murdered most cruelly, burned alive by their enemies. Jake wasn’t sure if a tree felt pain; he never got the chance to ask.
Steadying himself against a pulse of rage, he reached past the handsome brass writing set on the desk and gently tapped on the Inkbug’s box.
A moment later, the little caterpillar-like creature came stumbling out. Jake lifted his eyebrows. Blimey, he had never seen an insect look so tired before.
Rudely awakened in the middle of the night, the Inkbug yawned and used its front feet to rub its tiny eyes. But, ready to get to work in any case, the dutiful creature glanced up to see who had disturbed it; it looked prepared to be annoyed.
The moment it saw Jake, its antennae shot straight up; it looked astonished to see him.
“Yes, hello again,” Jake said dryly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sorry to wake you, little fellow, but we need to send a message right away.”
“It’s very important,” Archie chimed in while Brian stared at the insect in disbelief.
The sleepy Inkbug looked past Jake to the boy genius, its little face scrunched up with determination. Apparently, it decided that while Jake might be a bit dodgy, whatever the famously honest Archie Bradford said must be true—and quite serious, indeed.
With that, the Inkbug shook itself fully awake, then reared up onto his hind legs and nodded the upper half of its body, as if to say, “Ready!”
“Don’t worry,” Jake said. “I’ll keep this short. This needs to go to any of your comrades that you can reach at Merlin Hall.”
The Inkbug nodded.
Then Jake dictated a simple message: “Dear Aunt Ramona, we are safe. The gingerbread folk send their regards.” This was a clue to their location, not a pleasantry. “Shall we wait here? Please advise. Jake.”
As Jake spoke, the Inkbug squeezed its eyes shut, and with a look of great concentration, began twitching its antennae, sending out the transmission to one of its counterparts at the palace.
Sending the message took less than a minute.
Waiting for the answer, well, that could take all night. It just depended on whether the message got through, whether the palace was functioning at all, and, if so, how long it might take for one of the gnome servants to carry the Inkbug’s message to Aunt Ramona.
If she was still alive.
If anyone was left alive back there.
The room fell silent as the kids each pondered their own dire questions about just how bad things might be at Merlin Hall right now, and what the Order might find once the smoke had cleared.
In mere moments, the wait grew excruciating, so Dani took the others upstairs to visit the gingerbread folk. Nixie had never seen them, and neither had Brian. Indeed, the gullible Guardian looked a bit suspicious about the whole thing, as if he suspected a prank.
“You’ll see,” Dani assured him. Then she led the others trooping upstairs, while Jake and Archie remained in the library, ready to pounce on any message that might arrive from Aunt Ramona.
As it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait. Maybe twenty minutes.
Jake spent the interim brooding as he stared at the Lightrider tracking globe. Archie lounged on the brown leather couch with Teddy snuggled beside him and restlessly perused yesterday’s copy of the Clairvoyant, the magical world’s own newspaper. It had been left out on the library table, along with the London Times.
Jake could not even imagine what the Clairvoyant’s reporters would have to say about the events of this night.
After a short while, the boys heard Mrs. Appleton wheeling her tea service cart up the hallway from the kitchens. The creaking paused as the housekeeper called upstairs to let the others know their refreshments were ready.
Jake strode over to open the library door for her, and she pushed the cart in. It was draped in fine white linen and piled high with all the food they’d requested, plus a stack of bowls for the soup, a stack of mugs for the hot chocolate and tea, a cup full of spoons and utensils, and a basket of buttery biscuits that the good woman had warmed up in the oven.
“You are an angel of mercy, Mrs. Appleton.” Jake followed the cart eagerly as she wheeled it into the library with a laugh.
He snatched a biscuit (rudely—he was too tired for manners) and ate it in one bite while Archie came over and peeked under the lid of the big pot of soup. Teddy begged on his hind legs nearby, and was ignored.
“Oh, that smells wonderful,” Archie declared, inhaling over the soup pot. “What kind is it?”
“Potato soup, Master Archie. I also have mulligatawny heating up in the kitchen, but I brought this first because I know your sister doesn’t eat meat.”
Archie put the lid back on the soup pot. “You are a treasure, madam.”
“She is,” Jake agreed as he helped himself to a mug of cocoa.
The housekeeper beamed. “Pshaw!”
“Hullo!” Archie said abruptly. His gaze zoomed past Jake, homing in on the desk a few yards behind him. “I think the Inkbug’s receiving a transmission.”
Having just burned his tongue on the very hot cocoa, Jake quickly set the mug down, pivoted, and saw that his cousin was right. The Inkbug’s antennae had begun to twitch.
Suddenly, the caterpillar rushed over to the ink pad that went with the writing set, nudged the lid open, and scurried across its flat surface, dipping its countless tiny feet in black ink. The creature then darted onto the nearest sheet of blank paper and began running back and forth, spelling out the message it was receiving.
The boys strode over to the desk and watched with bated breath as the Inkbug revealed the message line by line. It was definitely from Aunt Ramona. Jake recognized her terse verbiage at once:
So relieved you all are safe. Well done. Stay where you are. I’ve asked your godmother to fetch you. Do not wander off. She will be there shortly to collect you.
Jake and Archie exchanged a wide-eyed look.
His cousin was the first to find his voice. “You don’t think she actually means—”
“Chop, chop, the Queen!” barked a deep male voice from outside.
Teddy cocked his ears.
“Blimey,” Jake whispered, only now noticing the clatter of hooves and carriage wheels arriving on the street outside Beacon House.
The dog barked. Jake ordered him to stay behind and be quiet as the boys launched into motion, rushing past a startled Mrs. Appleton and barreling out into the entrance hall just as the front doors burst open.
In marched a grand retinue of soldiers in scarlet tunics and black trousers, with shiny swords and tall black bearskin hats.
With crisp, automaton-like movements, six big grenadiers from the Royal Household Division lined up in the foyer, three on either side of the front door.
Jake and Archie stared in amazement as who should come through the doorway, but Queen Victoria herself.
Short, stout, and always clad in widow’s black, the ruler of the realm was the unofficial godmother of every magical child born on England’s shores.
That included Jake.
Instantly, the boys bowed low to Her Majesty. Jake’s pulse was thumping.
If only he could’ve called a warning to the others about decorum.
He cringed when he heard their pounding footsteps and riotous laughter pouring down from the upper hallway.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a whale,” Brian was saying.
Izzy giggled. “Those gingerbread people were kind of tempting.”
“Jake, you have to hear what Nixie just said about Rollio and Juniette!” Dani came skipping out onto the landing at the top of the stairs, but the words died on her tongue when she saw the royal entourage below. She froze at the railing, the other three a step behind her.
“Holy mackerel!” Brian burst out as they emerged on the landing.
“Uh, the Queen’s here,” Jake said, gesturing awkwardly.
Even Izzy looked shaken. Nixie just stared with her mouth hanging open.
Queen Victoria pursed her lips and lifted her fleshy chin. “Do come down, children. I have been apprised of the situation at Merlin Hall. You are to come with me.”
The entrance hall was absolutely silent. Nobody moved. They were all in shock.
Jake’s heart broke to think of leaving those buttery biscuits behind.
Fortunately, the future Viscount Bradford remembered his etiquette, as always. “We would be honored, Your Majesty,” Archie said.
Relief passed through the group of kids. At least one of them knew how to act.
The Queen nodded, mollified by his gentlemanly words. Then the others began walking down the stairs with an air of perfect obedience, everyone suddenly on their best behavior.
The Queen turned to Mayweather and Mrs. Appleton, who had come into the foyer to offer their bows as well. “Beacon House is to be locked down,” Victoria said. “The children shall come with me to Buckingham Palace.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the servants murmured.
Dani, Izzy, Nixie, and Brian reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the royal entourage. The girls curtsied, but Brian was staring in awe at the famous Foot Guards of the Household Division—until Izzy elbowed him. Then he nodded with respect to the Queen, but did not bow.
Americans, Jake thought wryly. Archie frowned with disapproval. One of the soldiers arched a brow. Jake wondered if any of them were actually Guardians. Probably so.
Queen Victoria did not seem to care about the lack of protocol from the Yank. “Now then, children. Someone from the Order will be along to pick you up from my custody by and by. Until then, you are all under my protection. Come,” she said, then pivoted on her heel and marched right back out to her waiting coach.
The nearest grenadier swept a gesture to the kids that meant for them to follow. They murmured their thanks to Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Mayweather, then obeyed.
Through the open doorway, Jake saw more soldiers from the Royal Household Division assisting the chubby little monarch into her carriage. He glanced uncertainly at Red. “Let’s go, boy.”
“Sorry, sir, the Gryphon stays here,” the grenadier said.
Jake glanced regretfully at Red, but he supposed it was better for all concerned if his pet remained at Beacon House. They did not need to cause an international incident showing up at Buckingham Palace with a real, live, mythological beast.
The Order already had enough problems.
While his cousins hurried after the Queen, Jake turned to his pet. “You stay out of sight here, Red. I’ll send word once we know where we’re going to be, and you can meet us there. Maybe home to Griffon Castle, maybe Merlin Hall; I’m not sure yet. Keep an eye on Beacon House till then. Maybe Mrs. Appleton will let you eat that potato soup.”
“Becaw,” Red said with a sad nod. Jake could not resist hugging him after all they had been through together tonight—especially taking on the dirigible. He hated leaving Red behind.
When Jake turned to go, Nixie and Brian were walking out, but Dani had just placed Teddy in her satchel, then hoisted it onto her shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the nearest guard. “Would it be all right if I bring my dog? He’s housebroken, I promise.”
The manly soldier smiled at her and Teddy. “Of course, little girl. Her Majesty is particularly fond of dogs, especially the small breeds.”
Dani smiled back, then traipsed out.
Jake followed.
Though their overly eventful night seemed to have come to an end at last, the jaunt over to Buckingham Palace proved rather amusing, for Queen Victoria had brought only one coach. This meant that the tiny old woman who ruled an empire upon which the sun never set was forced to squeeze into a crowded carriage with half a dozen children and one panting Norwich terrier.
The kids almost didn’t dare look at each other for fear of laughing as they all squashed together, crammed into the royal coach.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Queen Victoria finally muttered.
If Her Majesty noted the absurdity of their situation, all jammed together like lemmings, she hid her amusement behind a façade of royal dignity. But after the short ride over to Buckingham Palace, she shooed them out ahead of her and alighted last.
One of the grenadiers handed the sovereign down.
Her dignity restored, the little queen smoothed her black skirts, lifted her chin, then nodded to them to follow, and marched into her opulent home.
Jake and Dani exchanged a marveling glance.
“We’ve come a long way from the rookery, haven’t we, Jake?” she whispered.
“Aye, carrot, we have.” Jake flashed a grin. “Actually, I’m just glad we’re alive at the moment.”
Dani snorted and gave him a nod.
Then they hurried after their friends, and walked into Buckingham Palace as Her Majesty’s special guests.
CHAPTER 20
Ice Grendels
The ice grendels were not what Wyvern had expected. Indeed, he could not have imagined them. He’d heard rumors of their existence over the years—rumors he had considered absurd. Until he had arrived in this place.
Now he wished he’d never seen them.
The wind moaned across the snowfields on the surface, but deep in the ice cave at the bottom of a glacial canyon in Antarctica where he had been imprisoned, all Wyvern could hear were his own screams.
When his shrieks of doom faded away, there was only the sound of his own panting and the ominous creaking of the ice that surrounded his captors’ frigid laboratory.
They were not of this world.
Where they came from, Wyvern did not know, but they had brought with them the cruelty of scientists.
His body was contorte
d by the solid metal collar around his neck and bright silver steel cuffs around his wrists and ankles.
He could taste the poison they had injected into him to keep him still. It filled his mouth with bitterness, made him unable to fight.
He could hardly even see in the blue twilight of the ice cave. Only a little light shone through the bubbled teal ice that hung overhead and surrounded the cave like smooth, striated crystal.
Wyvern wasn’t sure if the darkness made things better or worse, for the sight of the creature filled him with an instinctual dread beyond anything he had ever experienced.
Whatever they were, these otherworldly creatures, their sleek triangular ship nearby, and all their strange equipment did not belong here.
Zolond had left him in their care several hours ago, and already, Wyvern could feel a creeping despair.
He had dared cross the sorcerer-king, and this was his punishment.
It was the powerlessness of his situation that he could not abide. And the knowledge that he was utterly alone.
Even his father had abandoned him now. Shemrazul sent no rescue, no doubt disgusted by Wyvern’s failure.
The shame of Wyvern’s own dishonor swallowed him like this crevasse in the glacier had. How could he have let that frail old man defeat him?
If I ever get out of here, he vowed, fiery-eyed, I’m gonna kill him. Take his crown. And I will rule in wrath!
And yet, for all his fearsome mental raging, the approach of his keepers’ quiet shuffling footfalls made Wyvern tremble with fear. It outraged him that, for all his physical strength and magical power, such small, delicate-looking creatures could terrify him, but they did.
He did not understand them, could not communicate with them, and so could neither reason nor plead.
Yet they seemed to be able to read his mind. It was as though they saw his thoughts quite clearly; they simply didn’t care. His pleas were no more to them than the squeaking protests of a lab rat.
Wyvern knew they were telepaths, though, because they occasionally sent him expressionless commands, like: Be still. Do not fight. There is no point. You will only damage yourself.