While he stood there, trying to figure it all out, he heard voices approaching. Startled by the noise, he darted into the shadows. He hoped that whoever was out walking about at this late hour didn’t call the attention of more German guards.
He waited and watched while the clomp of footsteps echoed loudly on the cobblestones. “We don’t even know if we can trust the baker!” said the approaching stranger. “How do we know his shop was next to one with a green door, kept vacant for years?”
Ian sucked in a breath. He knew that voice.
“What would you have me do, Sister—resurrect the witch from the rubble of that building and have her tell us whether or not the man was lying?”
“If you hadn’t made the witch attempt to retrieve the Guardian, she’d still be alive and able to tell us if this was the correct way to the door.”
“Bah! So what if the witch is dead? The boy undoubtedly died in the explosion too, so she was worth the sacrifice.”
“Still,” moaned Atroposa, “we did not discover his body in the wreckage. We cannot rule out that he survived.”
“Which is why we’re still attempting to find the green door,” Caphiera snapped. “Find the door, find the Keeper. Kill him, kill the quest.”
Ian squished himself deeper into the shadows, ducking next to a smelly can of rubbish. The two sorceresses were nearly upon him now.
“How much farther?” asked Atroposa.
“According to this map, it’s only a few streets.”
Ian held his breath as the pair passed by his hiding place. He then counted to ten and quietly moved back into the street again. He could see them in the darkness, passing under a streetlamp, and to his relief they turned left when they should have gone right. Without another moment’s hesitation he raced back to the shop, running as fast as he could until he reached the green door. Pounding on it until it opened, he cried out, “The sorceresses! They’re coming!”
Adrastus stood in the doorway, holding a piece of bread, while Iyoclease moved into the space right behind the general. “Where are they now?” he asked.
“Right behind me!”
The general stepped out of the doorway, pushing Ian back. “Get back to the tunnels!” he ordered. “Flee this city tonight and do not tell my wife about the sorceresses’ approach, do you hear me?”
“Y-y-y-yes, sir,” Ian stammered. He was taken aback by the anger in Adrastus’s voice and demeanor, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and hurried into the shadows again. Behind him he heard Adrastus say to Iyoclease, “It’s time to send you home, my friend.”
But before he could take another step, he also heard, “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Ian flattened himself against the side of the wall, hoping the darkness would conceal him.
“The Secret Keeper!” howled Atroposa.
“And another prize,” said her sister. Ian risked looking back, and he could see that both Adrastus and Iyoclease had come out to face the two sorceresses. Iyoclease drew his short sword and Adrastus moved to raise his arms across his chest but Atroposa was quicker. She shot a blast of air at him that sent the general hurtling backward into the green door, smashing it right off its hinges.
Iyoclease raised his sword and ran toward Caphiera, but with a flick of her wrist, he was stopped by a wall of ice. “Surrender your boxes, Keeper!”
Adrastus moaned on the ground where he lay; Ian suspected the wind had been knocked right out of both him and Iyoclease.
Ian knew their fates were lost unless he could do something to help them. He cast about for some type of weapon, anything he could use to defend himself, before stepping out into the open. He had to help, no matter what the consequences.
Finally, he spied a piece of metal pipe, but it was out a ways into the street. He turned his attention back to the sisters, trying to gauge his odds, when a hand came down hard on his shoulder, causing him to jump.
“Wait!” Carl whispered, holding fast to Ian’s shoulder.
Ian was too stunned by Carl’s sudden appearance to reply, and what was more, there was something odd about his friend—or rather, the air around him. It seemed to ripple with energy all about Carl’s body.
Carl ducked low, darting out, and retrieved the pipe. “I had so many dreams about metal,” he said, staring at the makeshift weapon in his hand. “I dreamt that I could do things with it. I felt I could bend it, shape it, force it into a new shape just by thinking.…” Carl’s voice trailed off as the bar in his hand actually began to transform. Ian gasped, and so did Carl. “I’m doing it!” he whispered excitedly.
“Keep going!” Ian urged him, hoping that Carl would make the pipe into something useful to fight the sisters with.
Carl focused hard on the object in his hand, and before their very eyes, the hollow tube collapsed in on itself, then elongated to something double in size. The tip of the pipe became sharply pointed, and when Carl looked up again, the metal tube had been remade into a thin but deadly spear.
Carl handed the weapon to Ian. “Aim for Atroposa!” he whispered. “Her back’s to us and she’ll never see it coming!”
Ian didn’t hesitate. He took the spear, aiming for the sorceress, and let the deadly harpoon fly.
It struck her in the upper back, and with a great shriek of pain, the vile woman pitched forward, collapsing to the ground.
Adrastus jumped to his feet, drew his own sword, and charged at Caphiera, whose attention had turned to her sister. He would have dealt her a deadly blow had she not seen the movement and at the last second protected herself with another shield of ice. Still, the impact sent the sorceress reeling.
Iyoclease also got to his feet and hurried to aid Adrastus. The two of them hacked at Caphiera’s icy shield until the sorceress was on her knees. “Get to the portal!” Iyoclease ordered. “Escape, Adrastus! Escape!”
“Not … without … you!” the general replied, striking again and again.
Iyoclease did the unexpected then: he shoved hard against the general, pushing him out of the way as he took over the battering of the sorceress’s shield. “The quest is more important! I’ll hold her here!”
Ian’s hands were curled into fists. He wanted to race to Iyoclease’s side, but he had no weapon. He looked about again for anything he could use when he noticed Carl bending low over a broken door. As Ian watched, his best friend pulled the handle cleanly off and began to melt it into a ball; then, using a brick, he mashed down the metal and formed it into two crude-looking daggers. Ian could hardly believe his own eyes. Carl stood and offered both of them to Ian.
“Your aim is better than mine,” he said, pale and sweating with the effort.
Meanwhile, Adrastus had gone into the shop, and Ian knew he was opening the portal, attempting to escape. Iyoclease, however, was now in terrible trouble. Atroposa had gotten to her knees, the spear still protruding from her back. She raised one hand and sent Iyoclease hurtling away from Caphiera.
When the sorceress of ice could stand again, she threw aside her icy shield, growling low in her throat and approached the fallen soldier menacingly. “Look into my eyes, you despicable mortal!” she screeched.
Ian snatched the daggers from Carl and bolted into the street, mindless of the danger the sorceresses presented. He took three strides, raised one of the daggers, and threw it straight at Caphiera.
However, Atroposa cried out a warning, and in that instant her sister turned and raised her arm, catching the dagger above the wrist. With a screech the sorceress turned toward him. “Guardian!” she cried, raising her good hand and preparing to strike. Ian took one more step and launched the other dagger, but just as he released it, something hit him hard in the chest and Ian was sent tumbling backward. He landed with a tremendous thud on the ground, dazed and struggling for air.
He was aware of bits and pieces of what happened immediately afterward. There was a horrible shriek, this one piercing and agonized, then a grating noise followed by an explosion so loud it
rattled Ian’s bones. He was showered with bits of brick and mortar and other debris, and he curled into a ball and lay still. A few heartbeats later, however, he was lifted under the arms and dragged over the rough cobblestones until he thought he couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop,” he finally managed to say. “Please, set me down!”
Ian’s head was spinning and his back hurt fiercely. His ribs felt as if a horse were sitting on them. Mercifully, however, he was let down gently, and Carl’s face appeared over his. “Mate,” Carl said, his hair soaked with sweat and his features pale and sickly. “Can you stand?”
Ian blinked dully. “I’d rather lie here.”
Iyoclease’s face appeared next to Carl’s. “Ian,” he whispered urgently. “The sorceresses will recover and they’ll be after us soon. You’ve got to move!”
Ian closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again and sat up. With help, he worked himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on Iyoclease, Ian limped along as quickly as he could, and the battered threesome made their way back to the square with the manhole.
Iyoclease used his sword to wedge the manhole cover aside, and with shaking limbs, Ian followed Carl down to the tunnel and waited for Iyoclease to move the cover back into place. When they were all at the bottom of the ladder, Ian asked, “Where are the others?”
“Down at the end of this corridor, waiting for us,” Carl said.
“Why did you come back to the shop?” he asked next.
“It was Theo,” Carl told him. “Or rather, it was her crystal. It started glowing red not long after you and Adrastus set off, and she whispered in my ear that she had a terrible feeling about you.”
Ian rubbed his temples. He had a splitting headache. “Well, I’m awfully glad you came when you did,” he said. “How did we get away?”
Iyoclease replied, “It was you. That last dagger you threw struck Caphiera in the eye and she fell to the street. Her sister made one last attempt to catch Adrastus, but he’d already opened the portal and stepped through. As he was closing it, Atroposa blew the shop to pieces, and as the dust was settling, we got away.”
“So Adrastus is safe?” Ian asked. He was still terribly worried about the general.
“He is,” Iyoclease answered. “But I am left here with no way back to my home.”
Carl picked up the lantern he’d left at the bottom of the ladder and eyed the long tunnel. “Come on,” he coaxed them. “We’d best get to the others and tell them what’s happened.”
Once Adria had heard their tale, she eyed Iyoclease, and seeing the woeful look in his eyes after he’d lost his chance at the portal, she said, “All is not lost, my friend. We need only return to England and the portal near the keep, and I will return you home.”
At this, Iyoclease brightened. “Thank you, Adria.”
“Now,” said their guide. “Let us set off for England before all routes out of France are closed, shall we?”
THROUGH THE PORTAL
It took the group five long days to make their way to Le Havre. They kept to the tunnels all the way out of Paris and then to the side roads and less-traveled pathways, moving steadily north and only at night. Twice they had to take refuge in the barns of local farmers, who took pity on them and offered them food and drink.
As they neared the port city of Le Havre, however, it became increasingly dangerous for them to be out in the open. There were more Germans there, and fewer farms. They had a bit of luck when they happened along a farmer taking his harvest to port to trade, and for a few franks he agreed to help sneak them in under a tarp in his wagon.
After arriving at the port, they waited under the tarp until dusk, then set off for the docks, sneaking under a wire fence, which Carl enjoyed using his new talent to make a hole in so they could slip through.
“There!” said Jaaved, pointing out the unmistakable mast of the earl’s yacht. “She’s right where we left her, my lord.”
The earl gripped Ian’s shoulder tightly, preventing him from dashing out into the road to get to the vessel. “Wait, Ian,” he commanded. “We must watch to make sure the guard doesn’t detect us.”
Sure enough, not a moment later a pair of civilian police wearing white armbands marched by. “They’re not Germans,” Ian whispered.
“No,” the earl remarked, eyeing the men suspiciously. “But I believe they work for them and would turn us over if they caught us. We will stay here until after midnight, when darkness and the late hour will give us the most cover.”
Ian sighed irritably. He was eager to get home, and it frustrated him to be so close and yet so far.
The earl seemed to understand. “A short wait, and then we’ll be off.”
“Yes, my lord,” Ian said, although his mood remained foul.
Their wait was all the more irritating due to the weather. Clouds arrived at the port shortly after they did, and a sharp wind whipped out of the west, cutting through their coats and chilling them all to the bone.
Poor Océanne was blue with cold, and Ian huddled close to her, rubbing her hands in his own. “Thank you,” she said shyly.
He forced himself to smile. “Only a bit longer to wait; then we’ll have you below deck, where it’s warm,” he promised.
Theo moved close to them as well, huddling on Ian’s right and shivering from head to toe. “Rain’s coming,” she said to him.
Ian pulled his eyes reluctantly from Océanne to the sky. “Rain?”
Theo nodded. “Within the hour.”
“Well, that’s all we need,” he grumbled.
He then inched over to the earl and told him what Theo had said about the rain. The earl frowned and motioned to Adria. She came near and the pair conferred for a moment before motioning to the whole group. “We’ll wait until the rain starts, then make haste to the boat,” the earl said.
“If it rains hard enough, it should give us some nice cover,” Adria agreed.
Ian nodded, but he wasn’t at all happy that they’d have to wait until the weather grew even worse to make a run for it.
Almost exactly an hour later, a deluge poured down on top of them. They were soaked through within moments.
The earl held up his hand, however, peering through the downpour for any signs of the port watchmen. After no such signs appeared, he motioned for all of them to hurry out of their hiding places and over to the boat. In just a few minutes, they were all safely down below.
Once everyone had found a blanket to warm up with, Ian, Carl, and Jaaved sprang into action, moving to the side of the boat and untying the lines from the pier. The earl and Iyoclease joined them, and before long they had the engine started and were inching out into the harbor.
The earl commanded the ship expertly, navigating the rough waters until they were well away from the pier. It was rough going, because the farther from shore they got, the larger the waves, and the boat was soon pitching and lurching. “Get below!” the earl ordered above the sounds of the wind and the waves.
“What about you?” Ian asked.
“I’ll be all right,” the earl said with a smile. If Ian hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn his patriarch was enjoying himself.
Ian scuttled below as he was told and found everyone there wide-eyed, clutching the sides of the boat. Within minutes most everyone on board—save Jaaved and Carl—was seasick.
The trip back to Dover was quite harrowing and took the rest of the night. Jaaved volunteered to stay above in the cold and the rain to help the earl with the navigation, and by dawn the White Cliffs were within sight.
Ian felt a surge of relief and happiness well up within him; despite his terribly upset stomach, his spirits soared at the sight of the magnificent cliffs he called home.
It was perhaps the final hours that made Ian the most anxious. He knew the channel was often patrolled by German U-boats, and he’d heard rumors that many a passenger ship was being targeted by their torpedoes. He had little doubt that if one of those U-boats happened to cross their path while the
y made their way steadily toward English soil, it’d sink them just for the sport of it.
But make it they did, and as they wound their way closer to the much crowded Dover port, Ian thought he’d never leave his home again.
They were stopped by two patrol boats, and the earl had to identify himself to be allowed into port. Ian nearly laughed at the astonished looks on the soldiers’ faces when they realized who was aboard the vessel.
A berth was cleared for them, and everyone aboard hurried to the dock, eager to get off the rocking boat. The rain was still drizzling down around them, and after an inquiry from the earl, two motorcars were sent for and the party was delivered to Castle Dover with much haste.
The earl’s butler, Mr. Binsford, met them in the drive, and he took in the earl’s haggard condition most anxiously. “My lord!” he said, moving quickly to the man’s side and offering him some assistance. “You’re injured!”
“I’m fine, Mr. Binsford,” the earl lied.
Madame Lafitte stepped forward and smiled kindly at the butler. “He’s not fine, Mr. Binsford. He needs rest and a doctor to look after those ribs immediately.”
“I’ll send for Dr. Lineberry,” the butler promised.
“Some warm tea and a meal first, if you please?” the earl said. “For me and for all of my companions. And prepare a few of the guest rooms, Binsford. I feel the need to keep everyone close tonight.”
The butler finally took note of the other members of the earl’s party and nodded. “Of course, my lord.”
Much later, after Ian was clean and rested and had had a bit of supper, he found the earl in his library, which was not at all where he’d expected him to be, given the late hour and the fact that he’d overheard Dr. Lineberry order him to bed for a week of rest.
“My lord?” Ian said when he spotted his patriarch staring out the window into the dark night.