13. Chapter 13
13
BEATRICE
Enraged, I charged back up the slope and ripped my pack out of her grasp. “Don’t you dare touch me or my pack again. I will carry one of the eggs whether you like it or not.”
Ashen faced, she gaped up at me. “How . . .?”
Gripping her egg sling, I dragged her after me into the dark tunnel. She thrashed like a dying animal and screeched curses, some that I’d never heard before and none of which I care to recall. She tried to punch and kick me, but I fended her off while striding down the slope. To be fair, she was wailing “You’ve killed us all! We’re gonna die!” and weeping too hard to focus her attacks.
When she briefly paused for breath, I said: “No, we’re ‘gonna’ hike to the Forbidden Palace as we planned, and you will lead the way.” I may have spoken with a hint of mockery there . . .
Amid her responding spew of vulgarities, threats, and curses, some useful information escaped. “Ah!” I exclaimed while she sucked in a breath, “so you’ve never been to the Forbidden Palace? Cool! This will be an adventure for both of us! Go on ahead.”
The fight left her all at once. “But I don’t know the—”
“You will walk in front because I don’t trust you out of my sight. You will lead us to safety at the Forbidden Palace. And while you walk, you will explain what beast you hoped would eat me and why you shoved me through that doorway. Honestly, what did you hope to accomplish?”
Her sullen gaze shifted between me and the opening we’d passed through, barely visible now by our egg-light. Before I could react, she dashed back up the slope to the doorway, clutching her egg in its sling to her side.
I shouted in dismay just before she bounced off an invisible barrier and fell flat. When her back hit the floor, a shimmering golden egg popped out of its sling and flew straight into my bare hands, free of its wrappings. As I stared down at the pulsing molten gold in my hands, a powerful love I’d never felt before flooded my heart.
The baby inside that egg loved me too. She spoke into my mind, her voice plaintive and sweet. Beeetrice! What my name?
“I’m so sorry! I don’t know your name.”
Beeetrice name?
Who could resist? That wistful little voice did things to my heart. Her parents would certainly disapprove, but they could always rename her. “Yes, I will think of just the right name for you, sweet little chicky.”
Her happiness radiated in warm waves. Love name. Love Beeetrice.
A despairing groan interrupted us.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! You ruined everything!” Win, still flat on the floor, tipped her head back to glare at me upside-down. “You’re so dead—you’re touching its shell ! Now they’ll tear me limb from limb too!”
“You should be grateful I caught her. We’re all four still alive, no thanks to you. Get up and start walking.” Cradling my darling baby egg in one arm, I jerked a thumb at the void behind me.
The girl sat up, rubbing the back of her head, then stared at me in dazed disbelief. “Why did the Beast’s barrier let you back through but not me?”
A barrier? By the eggs’ light, I studied our surroundings with greater attention. Rock and more rock, cold and deep. And there was magic in the aperture, an invisible barrier that I’d passed through both ways with no trouble.
Win had pushed me through it, intending to trap me in the caves without my pack. Without my egg.
Anger flared. “Maybe because, unlike someone else I know, I didn’t plan any treachery.”
She sulked. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m not the one with a splitting headache. Why try to run? You already knew I could pass through the barrier. Come on. Get moving.”
“My head hurts. My vision is blurry, and I bit my tongue.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I might have a concussion.”
“I sincerely hope not, but we either start walking or sit here until we freeze or starve.”
“If we don’t starve or get massacred by goblins or cave trolls, the Beast will swallow us whole.”
I shrugged, feeling oddly lighthearted. “Ooh, let’s get going and find out which! My choice is ‘arrive safely at the palace.’ Maybe someone’ll throw a creepy-costume ball just for us.”
Win slowly stood up, clutching the back of her head. “Give my egg back.”
“Not a chance. You’ve proven yourself untrustworthy, so I’m carrying both eggs until you start behaving rationally.”
“But I need it to see the way.”
“Tough. I don’t trust you.” I tucked the gold egg into my backpack beside her sibling, who glowed silvery blue as if in greeting. “Now, let’s go.”
The eggs’ light easily penetrated my backpack, illuminating the tunnel’s sandy floor. Although it sloped downward, the tunnel’s height and width would have allowed a large horse to pass through without scraping its ears. Winifred started walking. Head and shoulders bowed, she stumbled over every irregularity in the floor.
I didn’t react.
She complained about her aching head.
I let her moan.
The path led steadily downward, and when it widened into an actual cavern, Win kept walking straight ahead until we reached a wall with two tunnels, one leading upward, the other leading down.
“Which path do I take?” she asked.
I felt a vibration from the eggs.
I took a step toward one tunnel. Nothing. I moved toward the downward-sloping tunnel and instantly felt something like approving purrs. “Thank you!” I purred back, then told Win, “The right tunnel.”
This pattern continued. Every time we reached a fork or branch in the path, the eggs chose a tunnel—sometimes sloping upward, sometimes down. We munched on snacks along the way, and I finished my bottle of water. I had no way to measure time, but we must have hiked for several hours before the tunnel suddenly opened into a huge cave complete with amazing rock formations that reflected our egg light in vivid colors. Winifred soon located a trickling stream. “It smells fresh, and there’s no steam, so go ahead.”
I eagerly drank from my cupped hands. The water was icy and clear with a slight mineral taste. Having slaked my thirst, I splashed my face and moved to refill my bottle. But it was already full.
It took me a moment to realize the bottle was enchanted. As was everything else in my pack. We wouldn’t be running out of food or water. Or clean underwear.
Win watched me, her narrowed eyes glinting.
“Aren’t you thirsty?” I asked.
“I’m waiting to see if you keel over.”
My mouth dropped open, but no words emerged.
Once she was certain of my survival, she took her turn.
This kid.
Would be lucky if she survived the day.
Instead of dawdling after her drink, she hurried off across the cave, where several openings appeared. As I approached each one in turn, the eggs didn’t react. I began to wonder if they were asleep, but they purred for the last door—the one furthest to the right.
“Why do you always turn right?” Win asked, sounding less aggressive than usual.
“Because it’s always the right path. Get it?”
Utter silence was my reward. But after leading us up the gradually climbing tunnel in silence for what felt like hours, she filled the conversational void: “The Beast will be on your trail now, since you’re the Enemy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No need to beg. It’s not like you can help being horrid.”
I set my jaw. “Okay, fine. I give up. What is this Beast you keep talking about?”
“The Beast that guards the Forbidden Palace.”
“You might have mentioned its existence before now.”
“I did. You didn’t listen.”
I realized her accusation was true. “So, how am I this Beast’s enemy?”
“You’re trespassing. This part of the tunnel is beneath Forbidden Palace land.”
“You’re trespassing too,” I pointed out.
She shrugged loosely. “You forced me through the boundary door.”
“As I recall, you pushed me through it first. And since we were ordered to take shelter at the Forbidden Palace, we could hardly avoid walking on or under its land.”
Blessed silence followed. But my feet began to ache, and a blister developed on one heel. To distract myself from the pain, I asked, “Why do the eggs glow?”
She huffed. “Ask them.”
She must not know either. “When were they laid?”
“Last summer. I never saw them until Mirka disappeared.”
“I thought you were their nanny.”
“Until the eggs hatch, my job is to protect them and clean the cave. And cook for myself. Mirka hates me. She pretty much hates everybody. Vlad says she’s always like that when she’s brooding eggs. She’d probably rip your eyes out, drop you off a cliff, then swallow you whole for touching one of her treasures.”
“Sounds like severe postpartum depression,” I remarked.
Win snorted. In amusement this time.
Score!
“Vlad taught me how to turn the eggs before he left to find her,” she said quietly. “He said he’d be right back.”
“When was that?”
“Right before sunset.”
Which was early at this latitude, so maybe seven or eight hours before Auntie Bella sent me to the cave. I almost broke down and asked Win what griffins look like, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit my ignorance.
During our brief rest stops I caught glimpses of Winifred’s face. She really was deathly pale—I had some excuse for mistaking her for a ghost at first—and lines of sweat and tears streaked her filthy forehead and cheeks. The kid must’ve had a rough time of it even before smashing into the barrier. If the cave floor hadn’t been so sandy, she probably would’ve gotten a concussion.
I might have felt more pity if she weren’t so unrelentingly nasty.
Our journey had a dreamlike feel to it, but I knew it was real. Not even my weird subconscious imagination could invent a personality like Winifred’s. Or glowing griffin eggs.
“Do eggs grow?” I asked after a long silence.
“Magical eggs do,” she answered, then looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Don’t get attached. They’re not puppies.”
“They’re babies that just lost their parents.”
“Babies that will happily eat you for their first meal.”
On that cheery note, conversation died. We were both too exhausted to do more than keep our feet moving forward. By the time we reached another large cave, I agreed to a rest stop. Aching in every limb, I sat down and leaned against a stalagmite. Win built a fire with some dirty straw and sticks she had pulled out of her sling, lighted it with a match that flared magic, and sat down across the flames from me.
Sometime later, when the tiny magical fire had burned down, Win’s chin dropped, and she let out a surprisingly deep snore. Jerking her head upright, she looked at me, but I focused on the shimmering coals. Wrapped in a threadbare jacket she’d pulled from her egg sling, she slowly settled down. When she snored again, I couldn’t help wondering if anyone had noticed or cared when she went missing. Poor kid.
Pity aside, I did not feel safe in her company. I wouldn’t put it past her to pretend to sleep, wait for me to doze off, then steal my pack and the eggs and sneak off to parts unknown. I pulled my backpack into my lap and twined my arms through its straps so that Win couldn’t possibly steal it without waking me.
I heard a contented little voice sigh in my heart: Chicky make Beeetrice happy.
Next thing I knew, someone was knocking. Warm and comfortable, I opened my eyes and sat upright, blinking in confusion. Embroidered bed curtains surrounded me.
Wait. Where was Winifred? And my backpack! The eggs!
I heard voices. Female voices. A door opened, and footsteps clicked across a hard floor, then padded on a rug or carpet. “Miss, I fear we must interrupt your nap if you’re to be ready for the ball in time.”
Arabella
My hasty research on golden griffins had resulted in nothing more than a couple of sayings little better than aphorisms. The first I found was two lines from an old folk song: “When the Golden Griffin flies, everything will be all right.” Nothing useful there. The second, which I found in an old copy of A Child’s First Book of Magical Flora and Fauna, was more specific: “When the Golden Griffin Flies, Evil Fay Will Surely Die.” However, no one knew which was the original song or prophecy or nursery rhyme, let alone what it meant.
I couldn’t begin to guess how much time might be passing in the Forbidden Lands while we dealt with the first wave of attacks on the resort’s boundary protections. Why the enemy had chosen to attack from the south, where the boundary lines lay farthest from the castle itself, we couldn’t guess. As Kai, who had taken leave from his fterotó-training job to join the defense of Faraway Castle, observed, “If they make tactical mistakes, we’ll let them.” Since we had no way of knowing where the Mirror was, our only option was defense until the newlywed mages returned with Pukai. At present, I was the most powerful mage in the castle.
Most of the guests from the wedding reception had managed to slip away before open war broke out, thanks to brave staff members, some brownie magic, and bodyguard dwarves. Those of us in the defense force focused on strategies for survival and repelling enemy curses.
Our greatest disadvantage was the Mirror’s ability to steal our allies’ minds and wills and turn both them and their inside information against us. Our greatest advantage in outright battle lay underground, where the Mirror’s use was constricted. Most of the region’s many dwarf clans familiar with the labyrinth of tunnels that was their homeland fought on the Trollkarl’s side.
Sadly, the Mirror had already stolen the minds of most of the area’s griffins, several centaurs, and many human mages from the towns and cities at the foot of the mountains. It had no need to enchant our usual cast of enemies since most of the local harpies, ogres, babaus, werewolves, and suchlike were eager to take down the Gamekeeper, who had run them out of his inherited territory long ago.
We did have at least one volunteer spy behind enemy lines—Prince Briar’s sidekick pookah, Bane. Few people trusted a pookah to be of any use whatsoever, but I had confidence in Briar. If he trusted the weird creature, I was willing to give it a chance.
I longed to check on Beatrice, and on my beastly cousin, for that matter, but I didn’t dare butt in and risk ruining everything. My current role was to support the Gamekeeper’s defensive barriers, filling in with my magic wherever and whenever his faded. At some point, if his magic continued to weaken at its current rate, he would be forced to retrench—to draw his power inward to defend only the Forbidden Land, which was the last refuge on earth for many rare and endangered magical beings.
At some point in Adelboden’s long history, one of my cousin’s royal ancestors must have recognized the unique qualities of these mountains and offered them as a refuge to the rarest of terrestrial magical beings, just as Pukai’s ancestors had done for marine magical beings in her domain. Time itself worked differently within the Forbidden Lands, which could either benefit or defeat Beatrice in her quest to figure out and solve the mystery.
I had taken a terrible risk, sending my girl to the Forbidden Palace, but I trusted her to solve the riddle. Just as I trusted Briar to bring back my dear friend Pukai. Once those two returned, along with my little helper Ellie—now Princess Marielle—and Rosa the brilliant botanical enchantress, the five of us high mages should be able to hold off the Mirror and its minions until Beatrice could solve the mystery of my beastly cousin.
“Dear girl,” I muttered, “please think with your head and your heart.”