The Wand & the Sea (11 page)

She had learned by now that the bigger the spell, the more quiet and concentration she needed. In her mind she counted off everyone who needed Vanishing—herself, Wiggers, Ranulf, Jade, the other two Dvergar—and took a moment to note where each of them had grabbed on. She visualized the route to Almaric's Elm. For a few moments, everyone's eyes were shut tight and they breathed as one being. Holly raised the wand, picturing the cottage as clearly as she could; then she shouted:
“Im—”

But a cold, sharp blade at her neck kept her from finishing the spell. Her eyes flew open. The knight Grandor stood in front of her, with three more armored men behind him.

Everett had tried his best to look brave as Holly disappeared down the corridor, holding her lantern ahead of her. The gentle
clip-clop
of the centaur's hooves faded above their heads as the group ascended the staircase. A gloom fell once they were gone.

“I hope they'll be okay,” Ben said. For once he sounded not whiny, but genuinely worried.

“Let's get the maps,” Bittenbender growled. He prodded Avery forward with his dagger. The others trudged after them, and Everett began to think this was a very bad idea after all. Bittenbender might gladly give his life to take out the prince, but Everett wasn't ready to do that—nor, he thought, was Ben.

At the top of the stairs, the Dvergar ripped the gag from Avery's mouth. “Now,” he snarled, “ye'd better pray ye steer us true.”

Avery took a minute to cough and compose himself, trying to gain back some of his royal carriage, but his voice trembled. “R-round yon back corridor, through the courtyard. In the—the keep.”

“In the
keep
?” Ben squeaked.

Everett's heart fell. The keep was the most dangerous part of the castle. They'd be trapped there.

“I have the key,” the prince reminded them, indicating the ring on his belt. “ 'Twill be quick work, I assure you.”

“Quick work under the king's nose,” said Swikehard.

“At least it isn't far,” Everett put in. “Let's just get it over with.”

“Oh, it'll be
over
, unless I miss my bet.” Bittenbender gave Avery a shove. “Lead on.”

Despite what he'd said, Everett had hoped the maps room would be in some deserted corner of the castle, where they could stay out of everyone's way. As they walked through the moonlit courtyard, he wondered what was to prevent Avery from shouting at the top of his voice. But then, Avery had always put himself first. He'd never risk it.

“I hope we're not being stupid,” Ben whispered as Avery opened the tall iron door to the keep with a trembling hand. He led them past the great hall, which yawned dark and empty, and up a corner staircase.

“We must ascend two floors, then to the Chamber of Maps on the east side,” Avery whispered.

“And the king?” Swikehard asked. “Where be
he
?”

“He has retired for the night.”

“What about the queen?” Ben asked.

“My . . . my mother is not well. She never leaves her chamber at this time of year.”

“What's that mean,
this time of year
?”

“It means she is not your concern.” The look he turned on Ben stopped even the Dvergar in their tracks for a moment. Then Avery shivered, blinking, as if regaining himself. “It be safe enough. The king's chambers are in the west wing of the main castle, not here.”

Everest thought that was unlikely. A king sleeps in the strongest part of the fortress. But he and Ben followed the two Dvergar, who prodded Avery up the stairs.

“In case you forgot,” Ben whispered, “he double-crossed us before.”

Everett didn't answer. He didn't tell Ben the real reason he'd gone along with the prince's cockeyed plan; perhaps he didn't even know it himself. But somewhere buried under his regard for Holly and his friendship with Ben was a bitter seed that had sprouted the year before: Holly and her wand.

He tried to tell himself that the wand didn't matter, that the fact that everyone here thought Holly was so special was fine by him. But there had been a wonderful couple of days of glory last year when everyone had looked at
him
with awe and wonder as he threw knights from their horses and conjured dragons out of thin air.

With stolen magicks,
a voice whispered.

Everett had only imagined it—the voice of the fiery Elemental who had imbued his stolen wand with power. Her voice had gotten into his head somehow, and he heard it often, whenever he felt especially low. He wished someone here tried to make him feel better about himself instead of worse.

Maybe that was why he needed to trust Avery.

They gained the second floor. The prince motioned to his left and winced as Bittenbender shoved him forward. The keep was square, and small compared to the main castle, so it wasn't long before the corridor turned a corner and faced three large, imposing doors.

Everett felt something tremble against his chest. Curious, he pulled the chain out of his shirt. It was the gold locket he'd found in the wood. The water and earth symbols were glowing, and the pendant tugged on its chain as if it were alive.

“Well?” Bittenbender was saying. “Which door is it?”

The locket pulled Everett toward the center door. “It's this one.” He shoved the chain back into his shirtfront.

“How do you know that?” Ben asked.

“He speaks truth.” A sheen of sweat gleamed on Avery's forehead, even as his breath smoked in the chill air. “This door leadeth to the chamber of maps.”

“Then get it open.” Bittenbender motioned to Swikehard, who stood aside to keep watch. Avery fumbled with the keys. “Afore the sun rises, Yer Highness,” said the Dvergar in a low voice.

“In a moment,” the prince snapped. Ben and Everett exchanged uncomfortable glances. Neither of them wanted to see Bittenbender lose his temper, and Avery wasn't used to being ordered about.

Everett's locket settled warmly against his skin. He smiled to himself. He didn't know how it worked, but he didn't care. The locket was special. That was all that mattered.

“Ah! Here,” Avery said with relief, and the door swung open.

It was a cozy room, the natural cold tempered with gold and red tapestries and fine woven rugs. A dying fire burned in the stone fireplace, which was topped with a mahogany mantelpiece; sharp-beaked ravens were carved along the columns on either side. Tall bookshelves crowded the shadowy corners. Dominating the center of the room was a broad oak desk littered with open books. A lantern on the desk was still burning.

“Someone's been here,” Bittenbender said. “And not long ago.”

“Let's get this thingy and get out of here,” Ben said.

“The nautical maps be under lock and key.” Avery unlocked a tall wooden cabinet near the fireplace, revealing a secretary desk. At least ten rolls of parchment filled the pigeonholes. Everett pulled one out gently and spread it open.

Unlike the monochrome antique maps Everett had studied at home, these were decorated in bright colors. In the corners, square-rigged ships sailed with dragons at their prows. Their blue and silver flags bore the symbols from Holly's key: the spiral, the flame, the wave, the earth. The same symbols that were etched on the cover of Everett's locket.

Ben peered over his shoulder. “Is that the one we need?”

“I say take 'em all,” said the Dvergar. He started stuffing rolls of parchment into Everett's satchel.

Avery's eyes widened. “But if
all
the charts go missing—”

“This desk hasn't been opened in a long while,” Everett said. “Surely no one will notice.”

“But the dust will be disturbed,” Avery said. “My father is certain to wonder at the cause.”

“I should say so,” came a deep voice.

Everett's chin jerked up. A figure emerged from the back of the room. He must have been sitting hunched there in the dark among the bookshelves, his heavy cloak camouflaged in the gloom. A hard, bristly dark beard threaded with gray masked his face; Everett knew him at once.

The king.

Holly didn't dare swallow. The blade was so hard on her throat that one movement would open a vein.

“Now let's have that wand,” said Grandor softly, holding out his callused palm.

She couldn't perform the spell, not with the knight touching her, or she would Vanish him along with the rest. But she wouldn't—she
couldn't
—give up the wand.

“At once, or forfeit your life,” Grandor said. He turned the sword blade's edge to her skin.

Holly felt Áedán, the Golden Salamander, gather his power. But before he could act, the knight's sword flew from his grasp. It glowed as if the moon still glinted off the blade, though it had landed in the dark turf. The hilt righted itself, and turned, as if looking for something.

“Here, Claeve-Bryna,” said Ranulf. The sword leaped into his hand, emitting a trail of sparks.

It was Ranulf's battle sword, no doubt lost when he was captured. Of course it had sought him. Just holding it seemed to give the centaur strength, and he lifted his head. His protruding ribs heaved with the effort, but he raised the sword over Grandor.

At that moment several things happened. Another knight's sword clanged against Ranulf's, and the centaur shoved Holly behind him. She fell against Wiggers and Kepswich, who tumbled to the ground like dominoes. The other prisoner, Onck, pulled Wiggers's dagger from his belt and staggered forward; the other knights charged back.

Holly struggled to her feet and pulled up Wiggers, who cursed when he found his dagger missing. “Fall back, Lady!” he shouted to Holly, and grabbed the longbow off her shoulder. He took one of her arrows and shot it into the crowd of knights.

It was hard to see anything. Wiggers and Onck got lost in the melee of armored men; Ranulf ran back and forth in the small clearing, his sword throwing sparks; the knights bellowed. Holly tried to fight her way to the front, but she couldn't get beyond Ranulf, and then she felt Jade's claws in her ankle. “Tarry here, Lady Holly,” he said. “It is Ranulf's task to protect you.”

“I'm supposed to be protecting
him
,” she said, and scrabbled around in the grass for her dropped wand. Finally she snatched it up and pointed it at the nearest knight. “Stop!” she cried, and waited for the blaze of power to streak down her arm and out the wand tip.

But nothing happened.

“I said, stop!” she cried again.

For an instant the wand trembled and warmed in its familiar way, but then it cooled again; she wasn't making the connection with it. Ranulf had already felled one knight with his sword, and a few of the others were falling back to the castle. Then Hoofstone the centaur, still hanging back in the trees, charged forward and shot an arrow into the brawl. He was sure to shoot one of their friends.

“No, Hoofstone!” Holly shouted. She closed her eyes and focused the wand again.

Clear the way,
she thought. This time the wand's strength bloomed in her hand, and a spark flew from it, scattering the others. Holly darted into the breach to find Grandor and Ranulf locked together. Someone had given the knight another sword. Holly brandished the wand in his face.

“I said,
stop
.”

Sweat dripped down one side of Grandor's face, catching in the long scar that extended to his jawline. His chest heaved as he pushed against Ranulf, who, though taller, was weakening. The knight turned a dark eye on her. “So you did.”

“Walk away,” Holly said. “We won't follow you.”

She could tell from Ranulf's expression that he wouldn't have promised any such thing. But Grandor, instead of letting go and skulking off, held her gaze and smiled. “It seems that I've the upper hand here, lass. You're not full skilled with that weapon.”

Holly blushed but said, “Do you want to test that theory?”

Her legs were shaking beneath her, and it was all she could do to keep the wand steady in her hand. He was right; the wand wasn't working well, or she wasn't working well with it. But now that she stood opposite him, her focus was on one place only—his chin, where her wand pointed. The thought of concentrating all the wand's power on the knight's face turned her stomach. She could kill him.

“This beast,” said Grandor, shoving a fist into Ranulf's chest, “is
my prisoner
.”

Holly remembered the sticky feet clinging to her shoulder. “All right, Áedán,” she whispered, and a bolt of fire shot from the little Salamander's foot.

He could not harm, but only protect; and Holly knew he would enclose Grandor in his protection as well. But as the curtain of fire rose around them—Holly, Grandor, and Ranulf—the others skipped back, the Dvergar uttering creative curses. The knight's head darted around frantically, looking for a way out.

“Leave me go, sorcerer,” he gasped.

“Without the prisoner,” Holly insisted.

“Leave me
go
!”

Holly whispered to the Salamander, and the fire curtain vanished, leaving her eyes dazzled with the afterimage.

Grandor backed away, the tail of his tunic singed. The other knights had already fled back to the castle. “You cannot escape, Adept. A greater power awaits you. This time you shall meet him. Mark me: You shall not bide long in this world.”

Although there was no way for him to know this, Everett's thoughts were echoing Grandor's at that very moment: He would not bide long in this world. In fact, he reasoned, none of them would, except perhaps for Avery.

Before Bittenbender knew what had happened, King Reynard rose behind him and reached a riding crop over his head and braced it against the Dvergar's neck, holding him fast. Bittenbender gurgled, his arms pinwheeling as the king pulled the crossbow off the Dvergar's back and tossed it aside. He regarded Everett with a dead stare that flickered toward his scabbard. Understanding, Everett drew his own sword carefully and laid it on the writing desk, and motioned to Ben, who copied him. The king found Bittenbender's dagger and added it to the pile.