Ian nodded. “Wait here with the earl. I’ll be right back.”
Ian left the lantern with Carl, taking the torch and making his way back down the hallway. Squeezing in through one of the flats right next to where they’d found the earl, Ian took two steps and stopped dead in his tracks. In an instant he was so shocked and so frightened that he stopped breathing.
Lowering the beam of the torch a fraction, he saw it glint off the metal object at his feet, and it was a very long moment before he found the courage to inhale.
He stepped slowly and carefully away, mindful not to disturb anything in the room as he left.
Once he was back in the hallway again, he paused to catch his breath and heard Carl say, “Did you find the water?”
Ian swallowed the large lump in his throat and looked toward his friend. Carl’s face was illuminated by the lantern, and for a moment or two Ian debated whether to tell him what he’d found.
“Ian?” Carl said. “What’s the matter, mate?”
In reply, Ian held his finger to his lips and said, “Shhh!”
Carl’s brow furrowed. “What is it?” he whispered loudly.
Ian moved slowly and steadily back down the hall to Carl and the earl. He noticed that Carl had managed to find a torn but otherwise intact cushion to place under the earl’s head, and he also saw that the earl’s eyes were open and staring up at him.
Crouching down beside the pair, Ian leaned in and said, “There’s an unexploded bomb in the flat next door.”
Even in the dim light, Carl’s face went starkly pale. He made a sound much like a sharp squeak, then clamped his hand over his mouth as if the noise might set off an explosion.
The earl’s breath wheezed in and out, but even in his dreadful condition, he still managed to lift his hand to grip Ian’s arm and gasp, “Get … out!”
Ian nodded. He fully intended to get as far away from that ruined building as possible. “We’ll have to make a stretcher,” he told Carl. “I can’t leave you here with the earl while that bomb’s next door.”
Carl’s eyes were wide and staring hard at Ian, but eventually he took his hand away from his mouth and whispered, “Right.”
The earl still had hold of Ian’s arm, however, and he inhaled a shaky breath and said, “No! You … Carl … out now! Leave … me!”
Ian looked kindly down at the earl. “I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but in this instance, I shall have to ignore that order.” With that, he gently pried the earl’s fingers from his arm and motioned to Carl. “Leave the lantern so the earl has some light,” he instructed.
Before turning away, he looked again at the earl. “We’ll be back, my lord. I promise.”
A DARING ESCAPE
Ian and Carl tiptoed down the corridor. Ian had his sights set on the wooden planks they’d had to clear out of the way in the stairwell, but Carl had a better idea. “There was that door to the wardrobe in the upstairs flat, Ian,” he whispered when Ian began to hand him the planks. “The one that hit me on the head. I believe it’s strong enough and wide enough to support the earl, and light enough for the two of us to carry him between us.”
Ian eyed the rest of the stairs up. He hated to go up to that rickety floor again, but they had little choice. The planks in front of them weren’t wide enough and were far too long. “Very well,” he said, but put his hand on Carl’s chest when his friend attempted to move up the stairs. “I’ll go,” Ian told him.
“You’ll need help,” Carl insisted stubbornly.
Ian shook his head vehemently. “That floor’s too unstable. If something happens to me up there, then you’ll need to get help for the earl. We can’t risk the both of us being injured and unable to save him.”
Carl glared at him. “Then I should be the one to go up,” he insisted. “You’re the Guardian, remember? The Guardian who must protect the One? The prophecy says that you can’t die, Ian, or we’ll lose Theo and we’ll all be doomed.”
Ian felt torn by Carl’s words. He knew that going back upstairs was terribly dangerous; how could he let his friend face it instead of him? But Carl was right. There was an extra prophecy they were aware of that had suggested that if he, the Guardian, died, then the One—Theo—would quickly follow. He knew that he needed to stay alive to protect her from the dreaded four sorcerers.
In the end, Ian decided that he would risk it. Carl was always stepping in to volunteer for the more dangerous missions, and Ian knew that someday his luck would run out. “No, mate,” he said, placing a hand on Carl’s shoulder.
“I’ll go.”
Not wanting to argue any longer, Ian hurried up the stairs with barely a backward glance.
Sweat dripped from his temples and inched its ticklish way down his back while he crept along. Finally, he made it to the flat and tiptoed through the hallway to the place where he and Carl had clambered up the side. He picked up the wardrobe door, which was surprisingly light, and turned to make his way back to Carl when a sound from below stopped him.
He thought he heard voices in the distance, and a wave of relief flooded through him. He could ask them for help! Ian squinted into the dark street, attempting to gauge where the voices were coming from. After a moment, he determined that the people speaking were on the other side of a large pile of rubble, just out of sight. He set down the wardrobe door and the torch and cupped his hands around his mouth, ready to shout out to the strangers, when he felt a cold prickle on his skin.
Lowering his hands, he looked down at his bare forearm, lined with goose pimples. And then a voice, sharp and clear, reached his ears. “Which way, witch?”
“Somewhere over there, mistress!”
“Are you certain?” asked another voice, this one like a low moan.
“Yes, yes! The magical instrument is quiet again, but I know it came from somewhere down that street.”
Ian clicked off the light of the torch and felt his mouth go dry. Very carefully and quietly, he took up the wardrobe door again and ducked down the hallway and into the main corridor.
Tucking the torch into his pocket, he held the door in front of him and, on his tiptoes, eased along the side of the wall, moving far faster than he had earlier, and in the dark, no less. He heard the floor groan and felt it vibrate but he dared not stop or even slow down.
“I was about to go looking for you,” his friend said when he reached him.
Ian was panting and soaked with sweat. “We’ve got to hurry!” he whispered. “The sorceresses are here!”
Carl’s eyes grew large, but he didn’t say a word.
Ian decided not to tell the earl about the approaching danger, and focused on getting him out of the hallway as quickly as he could. “My lord,” he whispered, “Carl and I will need to move you onto the stretcher, and we must do it quickly. We’ll go carefully, but as there is a bomb in the room next door, if you could try to be very quiet, that might be best.”
The earl nodded. “I understand, Ian.”
Ian moved the door of the wardrobe alongside the earl, and together with Carl, he managed to slide the door under the man without a terrible amount of fuss.
Once the earl was safely in the middle of their makeshift stretcher, Ian asked, “You all right, my lord?”
The earl’s face was a mask of agony. He was gritting his teeth, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. After a moment, he was able to nod. “Yes,” he whispered, although his face had grown paler still and his breathing sounded a bit thick and liquid. Ian locked eyes with Carl. They had to get the earl out and to someone who could help him immediately.
“I’ll take the front,” Carl said, moving to the head of the door.
Ian placed the lantern at the earl’s side and asked him if he felt able to hold on to it. “Yes,” the earl said, moving his feeble fingers to hold the lantern still.
To have said that it was a difficult task, moving the earl through a dark hallway littered with debris while thoughts of a nearby bomb pulled at their psyches and the two
sorceresses closed in, would have been to understate their predicament immensely. Once they’d made it to the stairwell, Ian motioned to Carl to set the makeshift stretcher down and they took a very brief rest. Ian pulled Carl to the side, and the pair thought through their options. “How are we going to get him out of here?” Carl asked.
Ian’s eyes roved to the main entrance, which was completely blocked by debris. There was no sense taking him out the front anyway; Caphiera and Atroposa were out there. He looked next to his left and studied the doors of all the flats. He knew he’d never get them open because of the sloping ceiling. Finally, with few options left to them, Ian pointed up.
Bending down, he said to the earl, “My lord, I’m terribly sorry, but we will have to move you up the stairs.”
“Can’t get the front entrance open?” the earl asked, his eyes moving to the door, which was so close by.
Ian looked at Carl. He was hesitant to share the additional danger they were in, and he thought the earl was already in terrible distress, but Carl nodded, as if confirming that Ian should tell the earl the whole of it. “The sorceresses are outside,” he said. “We need to move up the stairs and find a place to hide.”
The earl’s eyes widened. “The sundial?”
“I had to use it to locate you, my lord. I believe that was enough for the sisters to find us.”
Carl glanced worriedly at the door. “Ian!” he whispered urgently. “We’ve got to move!”
Ian went to the earl’s head and bent down to lift the cot. Just as he and Carl had hoisted the earl, there came a great cackle from outside. “I know you’re here!” said Caphiera in a voice that chilled him to the bone. “We’ve sensed your whereabouts, Guardian! There is no escaping our keen eyes. Come out and we might spare your life!”
Ian froze, daring not even to breathe, but a push from Carl at the other end of the stretcher pulled him from his terrified thoughts and he began to shuffle backward up the stairs.
“Guardian!” moaned Atroposa. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“Quickly!” Carl urged as Ian struggled to keep their makeshift stretcher as steady as possible while climbing the stairs backward.
After a few more steps, they reached the second-floor landing. Ian was panting very hard, and his arms were aching with strain. He took one look at the floor, however, and motioned up to the next story. Carl, who was also breathing hard, nodded and they continued on silently.
After reaching the third story, Ian was immensely relived to find the floor, for the most part, flat and even. It appeared able to withstand their combined weight. “Let’s set him down for a moment and see if we can’t find a place to hide,” he said.
Lowering the earl as carefully as they could, Ian and Carl ran down the hallway, trying all the doors as they went along. One door was slightly ajar and Ian almost cried out in triumph. But as he swung the door open, he nearly fell straight through a huge hole in the floor, which allowed him to look a full two stories below. A small bit of mortar set free by his feet fell all the way down, clinking onto something made of metal. Ian held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the explosion he was certain would come.
Carl gripped him by the shoulder, and Ian could feel the tension in his friend’s hand. But after a few seconds’ pause, Ian realized that the bomb wasn’t going to explode, and he stepped carefully away from the door.
Swallowing hard, he motioned for Carl to try the remaining doors. All of them were locked tight. They had made it to the other end of the building with no small amount of frustration when Ian tapped Carl’s shoulder and pointed to a window just opposite them.
The entire pane of glass had shattered to the floor, leaving the window wide open. Through it, Ian could see another building, close to the one they were in, of identical shape and size.
Peering out, Ian gauged that the distance between the two buildings was perhaps six to seven feet, which was close, but not quite close enough.
There was no way out of the building they were in—Ian was certain of that—but perhaps there was a way out of the building next door?
“Guardian!” Caphiera screeched. “I know you are here!”
With no small amount of horror, Ian and Carl heard her near the front of the first-story entrance. “We’ll have to try and get across!” Carl said.
Ian squinted down into the alleyway below. It looked very far away. “How?” he asked simply.
Carl’s eyes lit with an idea. “The planks of wood in the stairwell!” he said. “They’ll be long enough!”
Ian looked to the stretcher where the earl lay. The task seemed impossible, and they were running out of time. Below, Ian could already hear the sorceresses pushing on the door they had abandoned in their flight up the stairs.
And Carl didn’t seem to want to wait for Ian to make up his mind. Dashing down the hallway, he ran for the stairwell. Ian had no choice but to follow him and hope they found enough sturdy planks to hold both their weight and the earl’s.
Racing quickly and quietly down the stairs, Ian found Carl on the landing with the planks, scrambling to carry as many as possible. Most of them were quite long, and Ian helped him get them angled up into the stairwell.
Behind them there was a sudden crash, and dust and debris blew into the first floor, coating the area inside the stairwell.
Ian tried his best to keep moving up, but the stairwell was very dark, and they had only Carl’s torchlight to work with.
“Guardian!”
The noise buffeted into the building, bouncing off the walls and echoing to every corner. Ian tensed, certain that the noise would be enough to set off the explosive, but he didn’t slow down as he and Carl flew up the stairs.
Reaching the third floor, the boys stretched the planks out between them and raced down the corridor. They paused only to insert the wood onto the sill of the window and slide the planks across. Ian laid two on top of each other, giving them as much strength in the middle as possible, and Carl motioned to him, once they were in place, to retrieve the earl.
The boys sprinted back down the corridor, but no sooner had they lifted the earl than they heard the clank of metal on the stone of the floor somewhere below. “They are nearby, mistresses!” a third voice shrieked. “I can hear someone afoot and I sense that they are somewhere upstairs!”
“Quickly!” Carl whispered.
Ian needed no added encouragement. “You first, mate!”
Carl’s face suggested he wanted to argue. Whoever went last would be the most at risk of being caught by the sorceresses, so Ian grabbed Carl by the collar and roughly shoved him to the window. “No arguments!” he hissed. “Now get across and pull the earl from your end!”
Carl handed Ian the torch and climbed up on the sill. He then moved over the top of the wardrobe door, making sure to step carefully around the earl until he had a firm purchase on the bare planks. Carl lowered himself to his hands and knees, crawling forward with haste. Ian made sure the earl’s stretcher and the planks were well anchored on his end and he watched with a pounding heart as Carl inched his way to safety.
“Ian!” gasped the earl.
“Yes?” Ian replied impatiently. He didn’t want anything to distract him from making sure Carl made it across.
“Leave me.”
“No.”
“Listen to me, young man,” the earl said, attempting to sound stern. “You’ve no time! Follow behind Carl and get to safety. The sorceresses might not bother with me if you’re away. And perhaps I can even slow them down.”
And just like that, Ian had a brilliant idea.
Well, either brilliant or completely mad. The outcome would determine its merit, he decided.
The moment Carl reached the opposite windowsill, Ian pushed the earl forward to the middle of the planks, straining with the effort. “Don’t move!” he whispered harshly when he saw the earl stir. Ian managed to get the earl to the three-quarter mark, far enough for Carl to reach the other end and pull him
the rest of the way, then Ian pushed himself onto the windowsill and reached out to grab the lantern off the wardrobe. In its place he dropped the torch, and called, “Carl! Get him through the window as quickly as you can! I’ll be back, but don’t wait for me!”
Ian didn’t explain further; he turned and bolted back down the corridor, stopping in front of the partially opened door to the flat with the gaping hole in the floor. “Aha!” cackled an evil voice. “I knew we’d discover you!”
Ian forced himself to stare down at the sorceress’s silver boots. He knew better than to look her in the eye.
“Sister!” Caphiera called. “Our Guardian is attempting to flee into one of the flats on the third floor.”
A cool wind floated up the stairwell to Ian, but he held his position even as every fiber in his body insisted he run away as fast as he could.
Someone else stepped up beside Caphiera, but it wasn’t Atroposa. “I have done well, mistress?” asked the newcomer.
“Yes, witch,” said Caphiera. “Now fetch the lad and bring him here, won’t you?”
The figure next to Caphiera began to move down the hallway toward Ian. This was quite troubling, as he’d hoped that Caphiera or her sister or even both of them would attempt to capture him, but he supposed there was nothing for it; he was too deep into the thick of it to back out now.
“Where is he?” moaned Atroposa from the stairwell.
“Here, Sister,” Caphiera said smugly. “Come see.”
Ian waited, watching the hemline of a raggedy-looking skirt swish down the hallway. He dared not look up to see who was coming to fetch him, because he couldn’t be certain the woman didn’t have powers of her own.
But the witch seemed to catch something in his face, because she halted abruptly when she was only ten feet away. “The young man is up to something,” she remarked.
“Bah!” Caphiera said. “Bring him here, witch!”
“No,” the ugly woman said stubbornly. “Mistress, he means a trick of some kind.”
Caphiera’s impatience was palpable, and the air around Ian became noticeably colder. “Sister!” she barked. “Send a gust of wind to knock the boy over, won’t you?”