CHAPTER NINE

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Future

Crispin filled Cordelia in on everything he’d told me as we began releasing everyone from their cells. The first familiar faces we happened upon were Alan and Gareth, who had been locked in the same cell. The centaur was never prone to emotional reactions, but he did look quite surprised as he took in the unmasked Kanin.

“Isn’t that your brother Crispin?” he asked me. “Looks like he’s aged twenty years.”

“He has. Roughly.”

“Ah. That explains it, then.”

Crispin glowered at him. “Watch it, pony.”

As Cordelia moved on to free more people, Gareth emerged from the cell alongside Alan. Always eager to smooth over potential conflicts, he quickly chimed in. “Nothing wrong with being old!” he said cheerfully. “I have an aunt’s who’s old. Or at least, I used to—”

“Oh, stop wittering on!”

This suggestion came from Sylvia the dryad, whom Cordelia had just released along with Bryn. She marched toward Gareth, and for a moment, I thought she was going to attack him.

Instead, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him. His goat ears wiggled, but he made no protest.

I gave Alan a sidelong glance. “I take it their relationship has evolved.”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Alan!” Bryn rushed forward, sprang into the air, and threw her arms around the centaur’s neck—not an easy feat, considering his height. The corners of his mouth twitched into a rare smile, and he returned the hug.

“Glad you’re okay,” he whispered in her ear.

I noticed a pained look on Crispin’s face as he watched the happy reunions. Memories of him with Molly flitted through my mind. He’d lost so much—there was no way I could ever make up for what had happened. My only hope was to undo it somehow.

That was cheating, of course. But I was perfectly willing to cheat time, death, and any other inexorable force of nature for Crispin’s sake…regardless of what the consequences might be.

We found Malcolm soon afterward. He’d been placed in solitary confinement, and chained to the wall. Once we got him free, Melody began bringing him up to speed on everything that had happened. She spoke with animation, and lots of hand gestures. Malcolm listened with quiet dignity, but I caught sight of a twinkle in his eye. It was hard for me to imagine Malcolm actually liking anyone, but clearly, Melody had been important to him.

Soon, everyone was free. Most of them didn’t look as if they’d be much help, however. They were pale, skinny, and wild-eyed, and quite a few of them seemed to have gone utterly mad. But we would have to make do with them all the same.

Crispin clapped his hands. “All right, everyone, we haven’t got a lot of time before the next loop, so let’s make the most of it. Nick has an idea for getting us out of this mess. I make no promises that he will actually be able to do that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered under my breath.

Crispin moved aside and allowed me to take the floor. “Go ahead.”

I cleared my throat. “As I’m sure all of you know, all the magic we’re caught up in right now stems from one specific fairy tale. The story of Cinderella.”

Murmurs of assent rose from the prisoners.

“In addition, the creature who’s imprisoned us here, the fairy godmother Beatrice, is herself an incarnation of pure narrative force.”

This drew only stares and confused blinking from my audience.

Cordelia poked me on the elbow. “You could just say ‘living story,’ you know. No need to complicate things.”

“Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is, we’re not simply fighting against magic here. We’re fighting a story. Does everyone understand that, at least?”

To my relief, all the lucid members of the company started nodding again, and the blank looks left their eyes. Mostly.

“And if we’re going to defeat a story,” I continued, “it would be extremely helpful if we had the main characters on our side. Or possibly tied up and forced to help us at gunpoint, whichever comes first.”

Cordelia was aghast. “Are you saying you want to kidnap Cinderella?”

“If necessary, yes.”

“But how are we supposed to find her in the first place?” Gareth brushed straw from his furry legs. “She’s not here, obviously. We’ve let everybody out, and we haven’t found her.”

“No,” I agreed. “She isn’t here.”

“I hate to stress the dark note,” said Melody, “but what if she’s dead?”

“People don’t die here,” said Sylvia. “Believe me, I know.”

“Perhaps,” said Bryn, “but it seems to me that Beatrice can do practically anything she wants in this place. If she wanted someone to stay dead, they probably would. So maybe she murdered both Cinderella and the prince.”

“It’s possible,” I admitted, “but very unlikely. Remember, she’s a living story. More specifically, she’s a living romance. Her existence is sustained by the characters in that romance. Killing them off would be suicidal for her, I imagine.”

“But if they’re alive,” said Alan, “and if they’re so important…then why aren’t they here?”

“I don’t have an answer to that. But right now, the why isn’t as important as the where. Beatrice’s still alive, and her magic is intact, which most likely means Cinderella and her prince are also still alive.”

“Very possibly,” Cordelia agreed. “The same magic that powers the time loop could stop them from aging even when they’re outside it.”

“So,” I said, “the question is…where are they?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” asked Gareth.

“No. It’s not.” I looked out across the gathering. “There must be someone here who remembers them. Everyone who’s ever been in the loop since the beginning is here, after all.”

“Yeah, but most of the older ones are doolally.” Alan jerked his head toward the freed prisoners near the back of the assembly. Some of them were milling aimlessly around in circles, others sat on the floor and hugged themselves as they rocked back and forth.

“If any of them still remember anything,” said Malcolm, “I doubt you’ll be able to get it out of them. Most of them don’t even speak anymore.”

“I do,” said a croaking voice.

Every head turned to look at the speaker. The old man was stooped and wrinkled, and wore a familiar-looking uniform with epaulets and gold braid. I realized it was the same uniform I’d seen on Gervase when Cordelia and I first arrived at the ball, albeit much shabbier.

The old man’s eyes twinkled, and he leaned hard on a wooden cane as he hobbled forward. Everyone moved respectfully out of his way. He gave me a gap-toothed grin, and lifted the walking-stick to point it at me. He had to jam its tip back into the floor right away to keep from falling. “Name’s Rutherford.” He pointed to the ceiling. “I was the herald up there, before they replaced me with that moron, Gervase. And I know what became of Prince Matteo and that girl he took up with.”

There was a babble of excitement, and all the prisoners leaned closer.

“Brilliant!” I said. “Where are they, then?”

Rutherford gave an arthritic shrug. “No idea.”

Cordelia frowned. “But I thought you said you knew—”

“I said I knew what became of them, dearie,” said Rutherford. “I didn’t say I knew their latitude and longitude. You young people never pay attention.” He elbowed Crispin. “Isn’t that right, friend?”

“I’m not old!” Crispin shouted. “I have prematurely white hair, that’s all!”

“Calm down,” I told him. “So what did become of them, Rutherford?”

“They left.”

I frowned. “You mean they escaped?”

“No, I mean they left. Beatrice let them go.”

“Why on earth would she have done that? I thought she needed them!”

“She may not have needed them to be on the premises,” said Cordelia. “If they’re the source of the time-loop spell, they don’t necessarily have to be anywhere near Basile. That’s the way spells usually work, after all. The source can be on the other side of the world from the spell itself, and it won’t make any difference.”

“But then why bother with the time loop at all, then?” I argued. “What’s the point of all this if Cinderella and the prince aren’t even here? Where’s the story?”

“You saw her when she was lording it over the people in the ballroom,” said Cordelia. “She’s clearly addicted to the feeling of power it gives her to keep them all trapped here. They’re enough to keep her happy. And she keeps bringing in new people on purpose. Fresh blood. More flies caught in the spider’s web.”

Rutherford spoke again. “She said she wanted Matteo and Ella to be happy. She sent everyone else who remembered to the dungeons, but it was different with the prince and the girl. She said it was very important that they stay happy and in love.”

“Of course.” I glanced at Crispin. “I’m going to pace now. Just warning you.”

He sighed. “Go on.”

I walked up and down the rows of cells, staying on two legs this time so that I could gesture with my hands. “She wouldn’t have put them down here.” I waved at the cells. “Look at what happens to the prisoners in the long run. If she’d done that, they’d have gone crazy, and the romance would be over. Cinderella and Prince Charming’s fairy tale would have become a nightmare, and Beatrice’s existence might be threatened as a result. She needed them to have their happily-ever-after. Otherwise, none of this would have lasted.” I looked at Cordelia and Crispin. “We have to find them. Wherever they are. The answer to stopping Beatrice isn’t in this Castle, it’s out there, with them.”

“That’s all very well,” said Crispin, “but how do you suggest we get out of here? And please bear in mind that whatever you’re about to suggest is almost certainly something you’ve already tried in a bygone cycle of the time loop.”

“Ah, but before, I was always in the ballroom. Now, we’re in the dungeons.”

“I don’t really see how that’s better, Nick,” said Cordelia.

“Tell me, Crispin. This magical barrier thing around the castle. Does it go underground?”

He pondered for a moment. Then he held a hand over the flagstones at our feet. They shimmered briefly. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”

I smiled in satisfaction. “That was careless of Beatrice, wasn’t it? And now that we’re on the ground floor—or rather, the cellar—we can make use of that little loophole.”

“How, exactly?”

“You’re the Second Merlin. You tell me.”

He glared at me. “I told you to stop calling me that. And you don’t understand; it doesn’t matter about there being no barrier underground. The barrier around the castle will still stop my portals from taking us outside. It’s very complicated; you don’t understand—ow!”

I gave him a gentle smack on the back of the head, disarranging his hair. “Stop thinking of everything in spooky magical terms. Maybe try thinking like an actual rabbit, for once. I’m not talking about your portals. I’m talking about a nice, ordinary tunnel.” I stamped a paw on the flagstones. “Albeit one dug by magic, because we obviously haven’t got the tools or the time to dig through all this rock the hard way.”

“You want us to blast through the stone foundations of an entire castle?” said Cordelia. “Even with magic, that’ll take a while.”

“Not to mention the fact that the clockmen will be all over us in seconds if we try it,” said Malcolm.

“But it can be done?” asked Bryn. She waited for Crispin to reply.

“Perhaps,” he said hesitantly. “But I’ll need Cordelia’s help, and I’ll need some time. Which I doubt very much that Beatrice’s monsters will be willing to give us.”

“We can hold them off,” said Alan.

“Alan, you four are brilliant, but I don’t think you’re quite strong enough to—”

“I don’t just mean us Mythfits. I mean everyone down here. We’ll fight off the creatures so that you and Cordelia and Crispin can get away.”

“Steady on,” said Malcolm. “Who are you to volunteer everybody like that?”

“Nobody. I’m a riding instructor. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I’m right, does it?”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Sylvia was the first to speak. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

I certainly hadn’t expected her to say that. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Of course not. I think it’s a rotten idea. But then again, this has been a rotten evening—every single time. I want it to be over. If that means a suicidal battle against an insane fairy godmother, then fine. At least it’ll be better than sitting in a dungeon for the rest of eternity.”

This little speech seemed to inspire everyone else. People started to nod and voice their approval. A few of them even clapped, and Alan said “Hear, hear.”

“All right, then.” I turned back to Cordelia and Crispin. “You two should get to work casting the spell. Once you’re through, go and find Cinderella, and work out a way to fix this.”

“I sense that you’re not planning to come,” said Crispin.

“I don’t think I should. I’ll be more useful here, helping them fight.”

“No, you will not.” Malcolm glowered at me. “This is your stupid idea. You need to see it through to the end.”

“I can’t send you into battle like this and not help you,” I protested.

Malcolm gave me a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “That’s what leaders have to do sometimes, Nick. They send people to their deaths, and then feel awful about it afterward while they’re sipping their tea.”

“It’s settled, then,” said Crispin. “All three of us are going. No more argument.” He turned to Cordelia. “The Hammer of Vulcan?”

“Yes, I think that would be the best spell to use. Although I’ve never been very good at casting it.” She laughed. “I was actually dreading teaching it to you for that reason.”

Crispin grinned. “I had a hard time learning it myself. But I’m pretty good at it now. Follow my lead.” He held out his hands over the flagstone, and Cordelia did the same. Red runes appeared around their fingers and plunged toward the floor like a shower of sparks cast from a volcano. A loud crack, like thunder, echoed through the entire dungeons, and the stones underfoot began to split apart.

“Here they come!” someone called out. I saw that clockmen were charging down the passage from both directions, their claws outstretched.

“Remember,” said Malcolm, “if you die, you’ll come back in the next loop. Probably. So don’t hold back. Give them everything you’ve got.”

“Let’s stop this foolishness before it begins, shall we?”

My heart sank. Beatrice was hovering in the air above the crowd, her bluebird wings flapping.

“I’ve commanded my warriors to stand down, for the moment,” she said. “I suggest you tell your people to do the same, Nicholas.”

“Steady,” said Malcolm to the others. “Remember—we have nothing to lose.”

“Do you really think I can’t make them die permanently, Nick?” said Beatrice. “I don’t have to bring them back for every single loop. I do it as a kindness. But under these circumstances, I may have no choice but to withdraw that courtesy.”

Don’t listen to her, I told myself. Out loud, I said, “I’m not afraid of you, Beatrice. And I am going to stop you.”

“I can hunt you down out there, you now. You can’t ever escape from me.”

“Actually, we can. I don’t believe you can come after us once I leave this castle. Cinderella and the prince are the spell-source, so they can go wherever they like, but you—you’re connected to this time loop in a different way. It’s what’s keeping you alive. I don’t think it would be very healthy for you if you strayed too far from it.”

She curled her lip. “This is your last chance, Nicholas. Tell your pathetic friends to surrender, or their blood will be on your hands.”

I almost did it. I looked at the Mythfits, at Malcolm and Melody, at all the people I hadn’t even met. How could I ask them to sacrifice themselves for a plan that might not even work? I’d end up free, and these people could all be trapped forever—or worse.

The word “Stop” wavered on my lips.

Malcolm must have noticed.

“Tally-ho!” he shouted, as he blasted a fireball directly at Beatrice’s face. She blocked it just in time, but a free-for-all had already begun between our fighters and her monsters.

I tried to focus, to pick out the people I knew and watch to see if they were winning or losing. But at that moment, fire began to swirl around me. Cordelia, Crispin, and I were sinking into a lava-filled abyss on a platform of stone. A whirlwind of flame surrounded us, keeping us inside a bubble of safety as we plunged deeper.

“Wait!” I cried.

“No,” said Crispin. “Let them do what they need to do. We have our own mission.”

“If we can find a way to undo everything Beatrice has done,” said Cordelia, “then nothing that’s going on up there will matter. It’ll all be erased. Focus on that, Nick.”

I tried. But it was difficult not to wonder if any of our friends were still alive.

For a few seconds, we were adrift in a dizzying landscape of fire and lava. Then we shot upwards, and the flames around us flickered and vanished. We were now outside. It appeared to be early evening, though the sky was so overcast that it was difficult to tell. My vision took some time to adjust to our new surroundings.

When it did, I saw another one of those lizard-men bearing down on us. Its rat-like steed snapped at the air.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Crispin. He fired a bolt of white light at the monsters, and with shrieks of pain and fury, they both exploded into charred fragments.

At last, I could see where we were. To our left loomed the Castle of Basile, but to our right, I saw a familiar skyline. Well, mostly familiar.

My jaw dropped. “Is that…Talesend?” It didn’t seem possible. The buildings were all in ruins, and strange flags with an insignia I didn’t recognize flew from every rooftop. But the glassy expanse of the Lake of Avalon stretched between us and the city, and while the buildings looked different, they were similar enough to what I remembered to confirm it. This couldn’t be anywhere else besides Talesend.

“I’m afraid it is,” said Crispin. “Or at least, it used to be.”

“It’s even worse than I’d expected,” said Cordelia. She cast a spell on her ball gown and changed it into a more modern jacket and skirt. She also made her shoes more sensible and dispensed with the high heels.

“Halt in the name of the Queen!”

At first, I thought the lizard-men were attacking us again. Then I recalled that the lizards didn’t talk. The five people that surrounded us now were very different. Three were male, and two were female. The men had bare chests and wore hooded seal-skin cloaks across their backs, as well as kilts around their waists. The women wore their skin-cloaks fastened around their torsos, and their skirts were longer. All the warriors had seashell pendants hanging from their necks, and intricate, bright-blue tattoos covered most of their exposed skin. None of them carried weapons, but I knew they were capable of doing plenty of damage with only their bare hands. I recognized them as selkies—half-seal members of the Undine race—but I’d never seen them in human form before.

“Oh, God,” Crispin murmured. “Not this. Not now.”

One of the female selkies lifted her seashell and spoke into it. Her eyes were fixed on Crispin. “Your Majesty, he’s come back. Along with the other two; the monster and the girl. We’re holding them on the west shore.”

Soon, the waters in the lake nearby began to bubble and roil. A pillar of water rose from the surface and swirled toward us, gliding across the land. In seconds, it evaporated to reveal a beautiful woman with honey-toned skin and dark hair. Her dress was blue-green, and she wore a crown made from seashells.

Crispin ground his teeth. “Honestly, could this get any worse?”

The woman smirked at him. “What’s the matter, my love? I thought you’d appreciate the warm welcome after being gone for so long.”

The familiar voice confirmed what I’d been unable to believe upon first seeing the woman. Her manner was completely different, her accent was Fionnish rather than Caledonian, and she was slightly older than I remembered…but still, I recognized her.

“Molly?”