45. Sam The Duel #4
“And so, when Hornsby noticed me at Commonwealth, he wished to avoid a similar derailment. He’d already fallen out of grace once.
It was perceptive of you, Hornsby.” Clem smiled with condescension.
“Most at Commonwealth barely noticed me,” she said with false cheer.
“I also learned a thing or two from you, albeit not in the nature of extortion.” She gestured upward.
The enchanters looked back up at the skies, where the dark, conical shape of a tornado whirled over the trees, dipping up and down before veering sharply toward the oblivious bat creature.
I could see now, as it drew closer, that it was made of pine needles.
Ah! So it was Hornsby who had written the vicious messages; I should have known.
I’d been too focused on Simeon to realize the truth: Hornsby was as much a villain, and far more inventive in his attacks.
The whirlwind surged suddenly, enlarging and widening, swooping upon the bat abruptly and continuing uninterrupted, touching down upon the lawn.
I could see the bat struggling inside the vortex.
Every now and then a wing would shudder outward, but as the seconds passed, the movements of resistance grew weaker, and then the creature tumbled limply, like a fly caught in a savage web.
Clementine gestured with her open palm, and the vortex began to drift toward the enchanters.
Draken was enraged at the defeat of his creature, and the fury seemed to electrify him.
He threw his arms up and shouted, “Carpia!” His words had no immediate effect.
Instead, the whirlwind spat out the bat creature, depositing its limp form on the lawn, and then continued its march toward the assembled enchanters.
Clementine snapped her fingers, a sound barely audible amid the rushing of the whirling pine needles.
“Encender,” she said. The whirlwind caught fire at the base and went up like a torch, scorching the grass as it progressed across the lawn.
But she held back. With a contained smile, she made the whirlwind follow the enchanters as they retreated, though I knew she was fully capable of plunging the fiery vortex upon them.
Then I saw the birds. They were the Carpia: the birds of ill omen that had, in Murcia’s time, brought death and misfortune to anyone touched by their shadow.
They were as large as eagles, and they swooped over the mansion in a flock of at least thirty before diving toward us.
Their dark shadows skipped across the lawn.
“Clementine!” I called, pointing toward the birds.
She moved swiftly. Leaving the whirlwind to fall apart, she shot her hand out toward the grove where the portal had stood and made a rapid yanking motion, as if pulling a blanket over her head.
“Erigir!” she shouted. As she crouched down, she pulled me down with her.
Before I understood what she’d done, I felt the sudden darkness, and I heard the crashing of stone upon stone.
Then, not a moment later, the birds fell upon us, their hard beaks and claws pecking furiously at the structure Clementine had made from the charred stones of the cottage.
It was disorienting, being suddenly plunged into darkness.
We were in a space with a domed ceiling, surrounded by stones.
The clattering of the birds was constant, and I felt certain that they would pry the stones loose at any moment.
I felt a surge of panic, and then I heard Clem whisper, “Lucir.” A small light appeared in the space between us.
It grew brighter, making a warm, orange glow.
It was one of Clementine’s marbles. She gripped my shoulder with her free hand.
“Sam,” she said earnestly. “The next move is yours.”
“What move?”
“Draken would have been happy to spend half the afternoon trotting out his menagerie of beasts, but I’ve made him angry. Now he’s only interested in destroying us.”
I couldn’t disagree.
“It’s time for you to use your full powers,” she said.
I stared at her blankly. “What do you mean?”
She smiled. “Were you watching when Wister first explained to me the principles of advanced enchantment?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Then you remember that she talked to me about how a thew might alter thoughts.”
The scrabbling of the birds was driving me to distraction. Were we really having a leisurely conversation about the principles of advanced enchantment while under siege in a cairn? “Clem, for spirits’ sake, hurry.”
“That’s it. That’s my point. You can change Draken’s thoughts.”
This was Clementine’s idea for how we would win the duel? I looked at her in dismay. “It’s not possible, Clem. No one’s ever done that.”
“You’re wrong. Other thews haven’t achieved it because their enchanters are jealous with their shared power. I’m not. And you’ve already done it.”
I stared at her, trying to ignore the birds and comprehend her meaning at the same time.
“You did it just now, after you pulled me out. You changed my thoughts. And with your disguise, Sam. At the Lyceum. None of the enchanters or their thews saw past your disguise. You saw how surprised they were when they saw you here. That means you altered their thoughts. You can go further. You can turn Draken’s thoughts in another direction. ”
“Clementine—” I began.
“Sam,” she interrupted, squeezing my shoulder.
“I’ll give you every ounce of strength I have.
Consider how far we’ve come. You brought me back from the dead.
Twice.” She looked at me earnestly, and I knew what she meant: once in body, once in mind.
“Now, Sam. Let’s end this together. They’ve earned it. ”
I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I said. “They have.”
“When the stones have done their work,” she said, “you begin.” And I saw then in her thoughts a vision of what she intended. I felt a surge of confidence, a sense of conviction. She was right. We had come back from the dead. What could we not do?
Clem tipped her head down in concentration.
Still on my knees, I leaned forward and put my arms around her protectively.
I felt the stones around us shuddering, and then they blew outward as if shot by a geyser.
I heard, rather than saw, how the stones collided with the Carpia, battering and crushing them, not flying in a single arc but chasing and pummeling, mercilessly clobbering the birds in furious imitation of the Cisneros Society’s own chosen method of execution.
I caught a glimpse of the enchanters’ faces—surprised, for the most part—before I turned my attention back to the Carpia’s destruction.
When the stones have done their work, Clem had said. There were fewer than a dozen birds left, and now the last several were falling with broken wings and pitiful cries. Only one remained, and two scorched stones chased it into the trees.
Clementine took my hand and stood still. She closed her eyes. I looked at her. That dear, calm face was covered with dust, and her left sleeve had torn at the shoulder. She looked like she’d survived an earthquake. Her grip on mine was strong, but her face was tranquil. She trusted me to do this.
I turned my attention to Draken, who seemed to be already preparing for his next act.
“I call the Drago,” he shouted, raising his arms.
With a suddenness and force that surprised me, I crashed in upon his thoughts.
I realized at once that I’d made a mistake.
I’d only attempted anything like this with Clementine, and the experience had led me to believe that qualities particular to her were universal.
Clementine’s mind was airy and spacious, almost spare.
Even when her mind dwelled on the realm of the dead, it was tranquil and light-filled.
Draken’s mind was the opposite. A dank, dark, murky space, filled with buzzing at the edges: a warren with no exits, and whispering voices came from everywhere, their words full of breathless want.
I would get nowhere in this place, in the putrid labyrinth of Draken’s thoughts.
Urgently, I tried to pull away. But Draken had sensed me there, and now he eagerly held me close.
I began to lose sight of the lawn around me, as if I were deep in a summoning, but the realm was not the spirit world: it was Draken’s twisted mind.
He was strong. Much stronger than me. His embrace was asphyxiating and total.
But I wasn’t alone. I felt Clementine’s strength adding to mine, pulling me out of Draken’s putrid mind just as I had pulled her from the earth. With all her clear-eyed certainty she pulled, and suddenly my vision cleared.