Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Isipped my mug of bergamot jasmine tea while Oren explained what I needed to know to undo the blocking Floracantus woven into Frank’s cells.
I used my fern and tree affinities to hover protective fronds over myself and Oren, which sent the rain droplets dripping around us in a dazzling curtain of water.
Callan sat on a tree limb about fifteen feet away, his legs dangling. Though he wasn’t standing next to me, a slight breeze to the back of my neck told me he was there if I needed him.
“The trick is to connect with as many parts of the tree as possible, since the blocking Floracantus is spread throughout it. Try to hold your attention on the roots, bark, and leaves at the same time,” Oren explained.
I closed my eyes and practiced, reaching out to Frank and connecting with as much of the majestic oak as possible.
Once I had successfully connected to the gargantuan tree a few times, Oren nodded. “Very good. Now, say the Floracantus I shared. I’ll join you. Make sure to hold on to each cell as you say it.”
“Solve venas,” I said, reciting a Floracantus I had never known until a few minutes earlier. I strained with all my might to hold on to my mental connection with every part of Frank’s mass.
“Solve venas,” Oren said, adding his power to mine.
As the words flowed out of me, a snapping sensation rippled through my body. I gasped as the tension broke, and I turned to Oren with my eyes wide.
He smiled. “Take a look.” He nodded toward Frank.
I returned my focus to the tree, and for a few seconds, the branches flashed a brilliant green before returning to their dull winter brown.
“The blocking spell is gone,” Oren said. “And since we removed it here, the magic in the other trees in the network, including the cuttings around town, should rapidly diminish.”
“Just like that?” I asked, a smile spreading over my face. Frank was still alive.
“Just like that,” Oren said, mirroring my smile.
An instant later, Callan was on the ground, standing at my side. He reached out a hand and placed it on Frank’s bark. “I can sense that the Floracantus is gone. And Frank looks none the worse for it.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat, overwhelmingly glad that the stately tree remained alive and well.
“What was that Floracantus?” Callan asked Oren.
“One my family’s been holding on to for a very long time. That and the one we used to boost the blocking spell each year are the only ones we know that aren’t in the Compendium Floracantus.”
“Think they came from the Vanished Compendium?” Callan asked, referencing the very book we were after.
“I’ve always suspected so,” Oren replied. “Where else would they have come from?”
“Should we try the quill now?” I asked the group, suddenly eager to see if our efforts had truly worked.
Callan glanced at Oren, and the man shook his head. “My involvement here is done. Wherever your next adventure takes you, I wish you good luck.” Before he climbed into the tree to return to his tree house, he spoke softly to me. “Your mom would have been proud of you, kiddo.”
A tingle of warmth filled me at his words. “Thanks for your help, Oren. I’ll see you around?”
“These trees aren’t going to tend themselves.” Oren winked, then he climbed the tree and was gone.
Callan shrugged off his backpack, removed the quill, and handed it to me.
“Are we ready for this?” I asked, placing my hand on the shaft of the quill.
In answer, Callan used his wind manipulating powers to draw the fern frond rain cover closer around us.
Barely daring to breathe, I knelt and removed the quill from the cloth underneath the protective ferns. It seemed to tremble in my hand, as if ready to be used. I took that as a good sign. With a deep breath, I drew on all nine plant affinities and said in a low, clear voice, “Simul simus.”
The quill began to rotate slowly in my palm. It made three full circles, and my heart sank. Nonstop spinning was a hallmark of the quill being blocked. We had witnessed it on the occasions we had tested it.
But then the spinning slowed, and the quill came to a quivering stop, pointing southeast.
I forgot how to breathe.
Callan took a step back, and I could see that the gears were already turning in his brain. “Southeast. That could be a lot of places. I wonder how far—”
My gasp cut him off. The quill was vibrating gently, and scratches formed on its shaft. “Something’s happening,” I said.
Callan leaned in.
As we watched the quill, 3200 miles materialized, engraved in tiny indentations along the shaft.
“It’s in English. This part of the magic must have been added later. Maybe one hundred years ago, by whoever last hid the book,” Callan said. “Thirty-two hundred miles.”
“This means the book is thirty-two hundred miles from here?” I asked, flipping the quill over and searching for signs of more guidance.
But Callan smiled. “I know something that is almost exactly thirty-two hundred miles from here.”
“What?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
Callan’s grin split his face. “The aquatics conservatory.”