Chapter Five

 

 

 

“Wake up, Brianna!”

She cringed away from the rough shaking on her shoulder and the intrusion into her dream.

“Come on, Brianna! Wake up! The girl has gone! She must have gotten loose last night,” Conal bawled in her ear.

The meaning of Conal’s words finally penetrated the clouds of exhausted sleep, and she rubbed her eys to dispel her vagueness. “Where?”

“She’s headed up the valley after the others. Hurry or we’ll never catch her!”

“Let’s go, she mustn’t reach the castle. Where’s Amon?”

Conal shrugged. “Dunno.”

Rubbing sleep from her eyes and trembling from her abrupt transition to wakefulness, Brianna gathered up her weapons and scrambled down the slope with Conal and they bounded across the meadow into a narrow gorge cut in the rock by the fast-flowing stream. Conal plunged in and waded upstream without even a glance back at Brianna. She hesitated a moment and wondered if there was an easier way up the valley, but there was no time to search for one. She jumped into the icy water and followed Conal.

The narrow streambed had steep sides and was littered with sharp, broken rocks. Brianna used her sword for balance as she struggled to keep her footing against the gushing force of the water. Mist swirled through the gnarled trees, and Brianna shivered as cold tendrils seeped through her leather jerkin and touched her skin. An air of decay hung over everything. Not a shandina whistled a dawn greeting song or a mud firozt croaked. Unease squeezed around her and dread sat heavy in her gut.

The ground rose steeply where the stream gushed noisily out of the spring. Conal pointed to the rocky slope on the right of the small waterfall and without a word they began to climb. The ground was damp and covered in slime that seeped into her clothes. Brianna’s body was aching by the time they were halfway up the ridge. Her pants were torn and sweat beaded under her bangs.

“There she is. Almost at the top!” Conal cried.

Brianna threw down her weapons and sprinted up the hill. Her breath came in tortured gasps. Fortunately Tulia’s lameness slowed her, and as she topped the rise Brianna lunged, closing her hand around Tulia’s good ankle in a desperate grip. The younger girl toppled onto the wet grass as Brianna thudded to the ground, sludgy mud caking her face and filling her mouth and nostrils.

“Yuk!” she spluttered, blinking her eyes and wiping the putrid mud away with her spare hand. As her vision shimmered and cleared, she stifled a squawk.

An enormous castle fashioned out of black rock, shining with weeping dampness, filled half the plateau, carved out of the hillside. Four turrets jutted into a black cloud of mist that swirled around the slimy walls. Flesh scavengers hovered on black leathery wings in rising drafts that brought an awful stench wafting across the gully.

Conal landed beside her with a grunt. “Curse the Luna Goddess, look at that!”

Brianna frowned at his expletive but focused her gaze on the valley floor. The villagers of Kenon and Oroton shuffled in and out of a small opening leading to the underground shafts of Okana’s biggest zeltic mine, bringing baskets of rocks from underground—heads down, shoulders hunched. Brianna stared in morbid fascination as her gaze shifted from one familiar face to another. She couldn’t see her mother. Where was she? Was she still alive? Brianna cringed against the painful contraction of her heart and almost lost her grip on Tulia’s ankle.

Sharp cracks and thuds filled the air. Brianna shifted her gaze and found a group of men in one corner breaking rocks.

“Da,” she murmured.

Her stepfather was in the center of the group, flanked by two of the grotesque Gomahras. He was chipping laboriously away at a huge block of stone.

With a light scrabbling and a couple of garbled curses, Amon suddenly crouched by her side. He dumped a large hare between them and grabbed Tulia’s free leg as it snapped up and down in front of him. “I wondered where you two were going when I saw you dashing down to the stream. I thought maybe the Gomahras had come.”

“Sorry, Amon,” she said. “There was no time to find you or leave a message. Tulia escaped. I don’t know how.”

Amon’s face colored slightly. “I loosened her bonds this morning before I left. They seemed so tight and I was sorry for her, but I didn’t mean for her to escape.”

Brianna choked back tears and the censure that was on the tip of her tongue. “We would never have found them if she hadn’t escaped, but I don’t think we can do anything to rescue them. Look at it, it’s awful, all of it!”

Amon nodded, his expression shamefaced. “At least we know they’re still alive.”

In front of them, the mute girl wriggled against Brianna’s imprisoning hands. Brianna tightened her grip on her ankle, determined that Tulia would not join the others. “We have to go. There’s nothing we can do here.”

“See those moldy moon dust Gomahras guarding them.” Conal’s face scrunched in disgust.

Amon screwed up his nose. “Where’s the Tyban?”

“I have no idea. Gone to get more slaves, I guess,” Conal spluttered, his hatred and frustration almost tangible.

“What does he want them for?” Amon asked.

“As miners. This is one of Okana’s richest zletic mines,” Conal grated.

Brianna felt a flutter in her mind—soft and gentle, but intrusive. She shook her head to clear it. She wondered if it was Zelig calling, but the others didn’t appear to be affected. It came again, this time more insistent. She slapped her hands over her ears. It made no difference.

“Don’t fight me, Anna—it’s Da.”

She heard her stepfather’s voice as clearly as if he were standing right beside her. Cautiously she lifted her head and peered across the gully. Her da was staring straight ahead, his hands stilled on the rock.

“Go from here, Anna—now. Zelig is too powerful to fight. Get your father. Your mother is safe for the moment, as am I. Go, Anna, before he smells you, smells your magic. Go. Go. Go. Get help. Do not fear your gift—use them on the journey. Now go. Zelig comes this way.”

“The sleeping sickness… A cure?” Brianna whispered in her mind.

She saw her stepfather shake his head now. “Hakon will know.”

Zelig appeared in a swirl of black smoke and her head was immediately empty of words. Below, she saw her stepfather bend to his work. All that remained were the emotions left by her da’s intrusion into her mind.

“Come on. We’ve got to leave. Now!” The depth of Brianna’s urgency was fired by the feelings that had flooded her mind. They were strong and unrelenting—fear, anger, impotency and frustration, but even stronger the urge to get away from the castle.

“Let’s go.” Fear made her words clipped as she jumped up.

“But aren’t we going to do something?” Conal asked, still staring at the castle.

“No!” she snapped. “We need to go!”

Ignoring both boys, she struggled to scramble down the slope with Tulia perched on her hip. She didn’t wait to see if they followed her, the feelings from her stepfather so urgent they were almost a painful throb in her mind— ‘Go, go, go!’

“Silly young fool! We can’t tackle that lot. There were a hundred Gomahras at least.” Amon’s words were a low growl as he caught up with her headlong flight and matched her frantic strides down the slope.

Conal careened behind them in a landslide of rocks. “We can’t just leave them there!” His whining voice was a high-pitched statement of reproach.

Brianna didn’t even spare him a glance.

Amon shrugged. “What do you suggest? We go charging in there? All three of us—sorry, four—with our swords and crutch swinging and a battle cry to scare the enemy out of his magic?”

It was not fear that held Amon back, but common sense. Unfortunately, unable to admit the hopelessness of such action, Conal could only see his reluctance. He wanted someone to blame, to take responsibility for his pain, and he went on the attack.

“Don’t tell us you’re afraid, Amon,” Conal sneered. “You’re the warrior. Fighting is your specialty.”

Amon’s mouth tightened and his face paled as he swept Tulia out of Brianna’s arms and onto his shoulder before he turned away.

“So you won’t help. You’re going to walk away without a backward glance.”

Brianna touched Conal’s shoulder in warning. “We’re all going to walk away. It’s the only way to save them. We must go!”

Conal jerked his shoulder out of reach of her hand. “I can understand him, but you, Brianna? You’re going to leave your own mother in that hell? How can you?”

Brianna gave Conal the evil eye. She wanted to shake him, to make him understand what she and Amon already understood but restrained her impulse because she appreciated how he felt. Every step down the slope was a struggle with her own desire to charge in there and fight. Uncertainty tortured her mind. Instinct and love would have sent her hurtling over the hill, sword slashing. But deep down she knew the foolishness—the futility—of that, and with that knowledge her tentative plan to find her Abrasaxon father hardened into certainty.

“It’s what she would want, Conal.”

“How would you know?” he sneered.

Brianna smiled vaguely. It was no use trying to explain because she didn’t understand it herself. “I just know, that’s all.”

Conal lapsed into sulky silence but fell into step beside her as they hurried after Amon.

Back at the cave, Brianna ignored Conal’s flouncing and sulking and calmly went about her preparations. She knew exactly what she wanted to take, and began to add some extra potions and liniments to a large leather bag that could hang over her shoulder. Her hand hovered over the last small pot, the one that contained a glistening red powder and was marked with the symbol of the scorpion.

As she lifted it out of the drawer, a stabbing pain seared her hand. “Ouch!” Holding her bleeding hand, she peered into the drawer, for a moment thinking she had been bitten. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” The zletic dagger glowed with a sharp black gloss from where it nestled in a bed of velvet.

Apprehension sizzled along her skin as she reached for its deadly beauty, but as her hand hovered over it Amon reached past her, his strong muscular fingers almost caressing the glowing metal.

She grabbed his wrist. “Oh no you don’t! That dagger is mine!” She couldn’t explain her sudden need to possess the weapon, but she knew she must have it, and that knowledge shocked her.

Amon glared at her. “What gives you the right?” he snarled.

Annoyance flushed over her as she lifted her chin and glared at him. “I found it first. It’s mine.”

Her fingernails clawed into the softness of her palms as their eyes locked in a deadly battle of wills. Her mother had always accused her of being strong-willed and stubborn, and this was one fight Amon was not going to win.

“It’s mine!” she stated again.

Amon ignored her statement of ownership, snatched the dagger from the drawer and backed away from her. Deep inside, Brianna felt an intense pulse grow—the same unidentified power that had felled Conal. She stared hard at Amon, willing him to give her the dagger. The tension built around them, an uncontrolled vortex of power. With a sudden, unexpected twitch, the dagger wrenched itself from Amon’s grasp and flew across the room to slam, point down, into the bench right in front of Brianna. They both stared at it in stunned silence. It quivered gently as Brianna grappled with the emotions swirling through her. There was a sudden rush of black wings and a loud, angry caw. A raven’s talons dug into her shoulder. She stood motionless, unsure what the bird intended. Hildegarde’s raven cried again and fixed beady yellow eyes on Amon. His face paled and he retreated, hunched over in a protective stance. The raven cawed again and in a flutter of wings swooped at him before disappearing out of the cave. With the threat gone, Amon straightened.

“Have it then, if it means so much to you. It’s only an old woman’s toy,” he said scornfully as he turned and stomped away.

Sweat poured from her brow and she felt drained of energy and scared at the sudden awareness, for the first time, of the unknown, untested power that throbbed within. The Abrasaxon magic she hadn’t wanted and genuinely feared had somehow become part of her, and it might prove useful before the end of this nightmare.

She examined Tulia, tied in the chair. The younger girl desired and expected to have the gift of magic, felt entitled to it as Hildegarde’s granddaughter. Brianna was sure Tulia would handle her gift more competently when it came than Brianna was handling hers A shiver of trepidation vibrated down her spine about her unknown destiny, but her future was here, now, whether she wanted it or not. While she fretted for the old Brianna, lost to her so unexpectedly, and was apprehensive about the new one taking shape out of the ashes, she also worried how she would be shaped by the journey ahead, and if she would indeed survive it at all.

The dagger fit her palm so well it could have been made for her. Still feeling guilty about snatching it from Amon, she studied its beauty for a moment before slipping it into her boot with her hunting knife. She had no idea why she wanted to possess it, or what use it might be, because it was too small for fighting or cleaning game. All she knew was it felt right to possess it. And at this time of uncertainty, that was all she had to guide her—what felt right.

It was raining again, a fine, silvery mist drifting down and leaving everything shimmering with glistening drops. Brianna was worried about Tulia. She hadn’t eaten or drunk since they found her, and she didn’t know for how long before that. It was beginning to show. Tulia’s aristocratic face had thinned, her nose was pinched and her beautiful eyes sunken and lifeless. The paleness of her skin seemed almost translucent as it stretched over a fine bone structure, accentuated by the hated freckles. Brianna didn’t know how much longer Tulia could go on. Already she had become so frail—her dark red curls fluffed like a fiery cloud around the small face with its fading, yellowish bruise. The green eyes remained open, the unblinking stare unnerving.

Brianna regretted the argument over the dagger, so leaving Conal to guard Tulia, she carried her pack down the slope to where Amon was constructing a crude stretcher.

“Can I help?”

As Amon gave her the once-over, a mixture of emotions flitted across his face like shandina through trees. He didn’t reply, merely handed her some twine as a gesture of acceptance. But Brianna had seen the wariness in his eyes and knew Amon was now apprehensive of her. She didn’t blame him, for she was a somewhat nervous of herself at the moment.

Half an hour later, they had a sturdy structure. Amon kicked it halfheartedly. “It will have to do. Let’s get Tulia onto it and get out of this awful valley before we die with it or worse, are pressed into slavery.”

Tulia didn’t struggle as they strapped her onto the litter, although her legs still moved. Brianna hadn’t seen Tulia’s baby brother with the others and she wondered where he was. Tulia had been fiercely protective of Dodi since the mysterious accident that had left her with a lame leg and Dodi unable, or unwilling, to talk. Tulia would never have left him on his own unless forced to.

 

* * * *

 

Tulia whimpered again. They’d been walking for hours under gray clouds. Conal had been complaining for ages he was hungry, but Brianna and Amon both ignored his pleas—not because they were unsympathetic, but because they wanted to reach the village before the freezing cold and soaking rain that came with the dusk drove them to shelter. Neither of them wanted to spend a night in the open. The floor of the valley had turned into a steady slope upward. Side by side Amon and Brianna continued to trudge relentlessly, backs bent under the weight of their burden. As the path steepened on the last rise before the village, he grunted with renewed effort.

“Give us a push, Conal,” Brianna ordered.

Conal frowned at her, readjusted his pack, and began to push. Brianna tightened the rope over her shoulder and tugged harder, digging her feet into the loose shale that littered the path. All three gasped in labored breaths as they struggled.

“Come on, you two. Tulia’s village is not far over this rise.” Brianna panted as they dragged the stretcher loaded with Tulia and their two packs up the hill.

At Tulia’s cottage, they didn’t bother to knock. The remains of the family’s last meal moldered on the table.

Amon inspected the room, his thick blond eyebrows drawing low over his eyes in a deep, furrowed frown. “I’ll get some wood,” he muttered as he beat a hasty retreat from the smelly room.

Brianna screwed her nose up at the odor. “Come on, help me get this clean then we can eat.”

He gave Brianna a pained flick of the eye, but obediently set down his pack and began to clear the table. They didn’t bother washing the plates, just dumped everything in the bin, which Conal took out the back.

Moments later, he walked back into the room. “Phew, that stank so bad even the terrates scratching in the dirt wouldn’t eat those scraps. But see what I found in the terrates’ house.”

He opened up his jacket and nestled in a grubby bundle were ten eggs.

Brianna grinned. “It appears we feast tonight. I’ve found more breket, bread and some greens in Phoebe’s garden.”

The door flung open as Amon lurched in, a bucket in one hand and a neat bundle of wood tucked under the other arm. “I’ve milked the gort that was bellowing in the stable yard.”

With three sets of hands, the meal was soon on the table. They ate in silence. Brianna tried to get Tulia to swallow a sip of gort milk but it was hopeless. The child was fading away before her eyes and a terrible ache knotted in her stomach. What if Tulia dies?

“Please, Tulia, just a drop of milk,” Brianna pleaded.

She even tried forcing the milk between Tulia’s lips, but it merely dribbled out and ran down her chin. Brianna mopped her dry and turned away, a mixture of desperation, fear and anguish choking her throat closed. Conal had retreated to his blanket, claiming exhaustion, so Brianna squatted down beside Amon and stared into the flames. She could feel the precious map rustle next to her breast, but one glance over her shoulder told her Hakon’s help would be too late for Tulia.

Intent on their individual thoughts, they didn’t hear Conal’s return from his failed attempt at slumber until he hunkered down beside them. He poked a blackened stick through the coals, stirring up a shower of orange sparks.

He shuffled his feet uncertainly as he cleared his throat. “Are you sure we can’t rescue them? There are plenty of villages to the south. Surely they would help us attack the castle.” His voice was soft, imploring almost, with no trace of his customary whine.

Amon sighed. “I don’t know, Conal. I’ve had plenty of experience fighting Yabix, but this is different. I don’t think more swords or warriors are going to help.”

“It seems like we’re running away, not fighting. I could fight, use a sword.”

Brianna shook her head.

“What if the Tyban has…everybody”—he flicked a glance in Brianna’s direction—“including Hakon, under”—he pointed at Tulia—“that spell? What if we’re the only ones he hasn’t got?”

“Hakon’s much too powerful for that. Besides, he has the Abrogative Direktorate to help. Don’t worry. My Abrasaxon father will know how to fix it… We simply have to ask him.”

Conal leaped up. “What if your father won’t help us? What if we can’t find him?”

Brianna stared into the flames for a minute or two before she met Conal’s expression with a worried one of her own and said very softly, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Conal’s face crumpled at her words. He said nothing, though, as he turned and went back to bed.

Amon poked the fire and added another log. “There are no guarantees in this, are there?”

Brianna stared into the embers. “No, Amon, but we have hope for the moment.” She stood. “Will you take first watch?”

Amon nodded. “Get some sleep, Brianna—if you can.”

 

* * * *

 

She moaned in protest, rolled over, and burrowed back into her blanket the moment Amon touched her shoulder, desperate to recapture her precious dream. The bright meadow, her mother laughing as she unpacked the picnic, Da pushing her on the swing, high into the warm summer air, thick with flemikos. His cheerful, funny, fatherly jokes to her each time she whizzed by that made her giggle so much she had nearly fallen off.

“Brianna.”

“No, go away,” she grumbled.

Amon jiggled her shoulder gently. “It’s your turn to keep watch.”

She sat up, surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears. Hurriedly she wiped them away, acutely aware of the searching look Amon gave her. She stood. “Sorry. I was dreaming.”

He touched her shoulder lightly, a grimace twisting his face. “It’ll be all right, Brianna.”

She nodded then shuffled to the fire, her blanket wrapped around her. After adding a couple of logs to the already crackling blaze, she huddled down in the chair and stared into the flames. It was a lonely vigil and every minor noise in the unfamiliar house sounded threatening, and in between, when the silence closed in, her fearful thoughts grew large. In the distance Brianna heard a mournful wail and trepidation crawled along her spine at the unknown creature calling into the night. Seeking solace, she added another log to the fire and huddled closer to the comforting glow.

At last the green dawn seeped into the room. Brianna sat up, discarded the blanket, and eased the map from her jerkin. In the soft firelight, she carefully examined every detail of the journey to the Crystal Castle. The rivers, swamps and mountains appeared daunting obstacles on the flat page and Brianna could only guess the dangers of the real things, but deep in her heart she knew this was the only way. She sensed Amon behind her.

“Here is Kenon,” she said softly, taking a quick peep at Amon’s grave face. “We are now here in Oroton.” She laid a grubby finger on a group of cottages marked on the map. Then she traced a path directly toward the mountains. “All we have to do is follow the setting sun to find the Crystal Castle and Hakon.”

Conal joined them, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and peered down at the map. Brianna waited for objections to her plan.

Amon seemed very thoughtful. “It’s a dangerous journey through unknown wilderness—swamps, mountains and Nixets,” he muttered. His finger slid across the cute diminutive people drawn on the map. “I don’t fancy taking on a Nixet, but at least we won’t have to worry about Yabix.”

“What’s a Nixet?” Conal asked.

“Hmm…” Amon hesitated. “Nixets are little people, about as big as my foot…”

Conal gave Amon a skeptical look. “Have you ever seen one?”

Amon grimaced. “No, but I don’t doubt they exist. Legend has it that they used to help the big people—us—but sometimes they liked to play tricks as well. One day they played a trick on an old man who was actually an Archon, and he was so mad he took away their ability to become invisible. According to legend, he comes every year to check if they’ve collected enough jewels to buy their ability back. This is why the Nixets won’t help us, they’re obsessed with finding jewels to pay the ransom. If they think you might have a jewel, they can be pretty nasty, and they have powerful magic.”

Conal shuddered. “Perhaps we should stay here.”

“And wait for the Gomahras to come?” Amon asked.

Brianna frowned at Amon. “Don’t worry about the Nixets, Conal. We don’t have any jewels they might want. Besides, it’s only a legend from old times. Even if they did exist once upon a time, I doubt they still do.”

“All right, I’ll go. I have my compass.” Reverently, he pulled it out of his pocket. “Kenton gave it to me, before he left for the war.” Conal touched the map with his forefinger, the bitten nail ragged and dirty. He traced a line across the map. “I reckon we need to head due west with perhaps a couple of detours for rivers and swamps.”

Amon chuckled. “Yes, Conal, straight into— Ouch.”

Brianna glared at Amon to reinforce her kick to his ankle. “Great, Conal. You’re chief navigator then,” she announced.

Conal grinned, and his face glowed with importance. “But I’m eating first.”

Amon chuckled again. “Got to get those priorities right.”

When Conal turned away, Amon raised his eyebrows and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Brianna.

She smiled back. It was a nice feeling, knowing Amon would do his bit to head off Conal’s tantrums and sulks. Hastily they scraped together a meal then, while the boys went in search of more supplies, Brianna tended Tulia’s wounds. Feeling safe in the cottage with the door closed, she left Tulia unbound and the girl marched around and around the cottage like one of the wind-up toys Tryton had always made for each child’s birthday.

Conal returned with his pack bulging and an untidy bundle for Brianna in his hand. She unpacked her herbs again and stowed the new contents at the bottom of her pack. Tulia wandered aimlessly about, getting in the way.

“For a red moon’s eclipse! If you’re not doing anything, Conal, please try to keep her under control,” Brianna huffed as she was bumped a third time.

Conal scowled. “Why me? She’s not mine, you know!”

“Somebody has to do it,” Brianna snapped as Tulia brushed past her again, eyes staring vacantly. “I don’t want to tie her up if I don’t have to.”

Conal sighed. “You’ll expect me to do it instead.”

Brianna continued to repack her herbs. Suddenly she was shoved sideways. The small gray bottle flew from her fingers and spun in the air. Brianna lunged to catch it, but it slipped past her fingers and crashed onto Tulia’s head. The stopper burst open, releasing a fine red powder.

“Oh no!” Brianna moaned. “Now it’s wasted.”

Tulia sneezed violently and doubled over in a fit of coughing. Brianna felt a shiver of fear—she didn’t even know exactly what the powder was. What if it was dangerous?

“Seven moons, Brianna, what the moon dust are you doing?” Conal complained. “You’ve spread that stuff everywhere.”

Tulia sneezed again, rubbed her eyes, and brushed the powder from her head. She fixed her gaze directly on Brianna. “What’re you doing here in my house?”

Brianna froze, then lunged forward and swept Tulia into her arms. “Tulia! Oh moonbeams, you’re awake. You’ve come back to us.”

Tulia wriggled against her confinement. “Don’t hug me, Brianna.” She pointed at Amon. “Who’s he?”

Amon stood stock-still in the doorway with a large bundle held to his chest. “Moonbeams, she’s awake. What happened, Brianna? How did you wake her?”

“So, who is he?” Tulia demanded in an imperious voice as she pushed free of Brianna’s hold.

“He’s Amon, a warrior. He’s going to help us.”

Amon continued to stare at Tulia as he placed his bundle on the table. “Is there any damage, you know, from the spell?”

Brianna glanced from Tulia to Amon. “I don’t think so…”

“I’ll have you both know I’m not damaged, merely a bit confused as to why you three are in my house.” Tulia scowled around then. “Where are Mama and Dodi?” Even as she asked, her eyes filled with fear. Her memory had returned. “Dodi, Mama,” she wailed.

Brianna put an arm around the frail shoulders, but Tulia pushed her away. “Are they still here?” she asked.

“No, the Gomahras are gone.”

“And what are Gomahras?”

“Whitukas,” Conal announced. “They’ve come to get all us mortals.”

Tulia’s expression crumpled and she plonked into the chair. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she hiccupped instead of humiliating herself by sobbing. The child looked up at Brianna. “Well, that’s all very well, but what are you doing here?” she asked again this time perching her hands on her hips.

“The Gomahras took everybody in Kenon Village but Conal and me. We’re going to get help. We found you in the valley. Everybody else is captive in a big, black castle at the top of the valley.”

Tulia frowned, her eyes wide. Her bottom lip trembled slightly. “Not Grandmamma too?”

Brianna shrugged. “I don’t know, Tulia, but she wasn’t at her cave.”

Tulia pouted, vigorously wiped the tears from her eyes and studied her new companions. Brianna knelt before her and pulled her into her arms.

Tulia extracted herself from Brianna’s embrace. “So it seems I will have to find a spell…” Her gaze flicked from one to the other, her lips pursed into a thin line. “Seeing as there is no one else to save them.”

“Well, actually, Brianna has a plan,” Amon said.

Tulia grimaced at Brianna. “And this plan is?”

Brianna hugged her tight. “We’re going to find my life-force father.”

Tulia pulled away from her. “Your life-force father? You don’t know who your real father is.”

“My father, according to Tennille, is Hakon—the Grand Archon. He’ll help us.” Brianna deliberately didn’t meet Amon’s glance. She didn’t want him seeing her doubts.

Tulia stared at her, eyes wide open and unblinking. For a moment Brianna thought she had gone back under the spell.

But then she spoke in a tiny, high-pitched squeak. “Hakon is your father?”

“Yes, Tulia.”

Tulia folded her hands in her lap and continued to stare at Brianna. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?” she said. A sharp edge of disdain made her words clipped.

“So why did she wake up, Brianna?” Amon asked, still watching Tulia closely. “Do you know what suddenly broke the spell?”

Brianna bent to retrieve the jar. “I spilled this red powder over her. You know what this means?”

Amon nodded, grinning. “If we can find enough of that powder, we can release everybody.” His smile faded. “Unfortunately, we don’t even know what it is, let alone where to get it.”

Brianna dropped the almost empty jar into her bag. “It has the scorpion’s symbol on the lid so maybe my father—”

“It’s pollen from the blooms of the Scorpion’s Heart Syniah,” Tulia said quietly, rubbing the powder between her fingers.

“Where do we find it, Tulia?”

She shrugged. “It’s very rare. Only Grandmamma or the Archons would know.”

“Well, she’s disappeared and the Archons are far away.”

Tulia nodded, fresh tears welling up in her eyes even as she stood up straighter. “Then it will be up to me, as Hildegarde’s granddaughter and future Keeper of the Wisdom, and you, Brianna, to find her.”

“I think we should follow Brianna’s plan,” Amon said.

Brianna pulled out her map. “We will use this, Tulia, to find my father.”

Tulia’s eyes opened wide as she stared at the pages in Brianna’s hand. “You took pages from the Destiny Books! You’ll be punished for that, Hakon’s daughter or not.”

“Yes, Tulia, I know, but for now it’s time to go.” A sense of foreboding weighed Brianna down as she turned toward the door.

“But I can’t go, I have to find Dodi.” Tulia crossed her arms and stamped her foot.

“The Gomahras have him,” Conal informed her bluntly.

Brianna shook her head. “No, I didn’t see her brother with them.”

“Is there anybody else left?” Tulia asked.

“No,” Brianna said.

Tulia followed them outside, but her brow puckered in disbelief when she saw the stretcher. “You can’t take me on that, I’m too heavy.”

Amon frowned. “We brought you all the way from Hildegarde’s cave on it, and yes, you are heavy, but you won’t be able to keep up with us. Do you have any other suggestions?”

Tulia nodded. “My domnak might still be in the stable down there.” She pointed along the street.

They walked at her slow pace to a rickety stable behind the bakery. By the time they were halfway down the road the domnak was braying a hungry welcome. As Tulia opened the stall a shadow darted past, sending her tumbling into an inelegant heap.

“Got you!” Amon yelled. A thin, dark-haired child hung from Amon’s strong hand like a limp tunnel digger. He whimpered plaintively.

Tulia scrambled up. “Thank goodness! It’s Dodi.”

The child stopped wriggling. Amon lowered him to the ground and he scuttled into his sister’s arms. After a quick hug, she held him away from her and studied his condition before she asked, “Oh, Dodi, they didn’t enchant you?”

He shook his head, his tight, dark curls bouncing around his chubby, tear-streaked face. He pulled away from her and mimed the grotesque face of a Gomahra. He tugged at Tulia’s arm and signaled with his hands. She shook her head. “I couldn’t stop. It was a magic spell.”

Dodi slapped his own chest hard then held his hands under the side of his face, his eyes shut.

Tulia grinned. “You couldn’t hear because you were asleep in the cellar. You’ve been into Father’s fermented anjoa juice again. Well, I suppose at least Mama’s not here to punish you this time.”

When Amon appeared from the stable with the saddled domnak, Dodi darted behind his sister.

Tulia placed her arm protectively around him. “Dodi, this is Amon. He didn’t mean to frighten you. He’s going to help get Mama, Father and Grandmamma back.”

As Dodi sidled around Tulia, Amon smiled at the child then he pulled two roasted gark nuts from his pocket, squatted down, and held them out to Dodi. “I’m sorry I grabbed you. I was protecting your sister and Brianna.”

Dodi reached out with a grubby hand and took the nuts. He immediately popped the biggest one into his mouth and grinned around it, showing juice-stained lips and indicating to Amon that he didn’t hold a grudge.