Midsummer Night's Mayhem (20 page)

Dovy and Cookie glided away from the maze, shaking their heads. They had obviously decided that the risks were too great and forfeited. Probably a smart move.

“You must let me enter the maze. It’s only fair. Who’s with me?” Felicity searched the crowd for support, but everyone was silent.

“It’s only you left,” Austin said. “I can’t let you put yourself at risk. I was foolish to let this take place in the first place. I take full responsibility for any injuries.”

Felicity’s face twisted into a snarl. “You did this on purpose. You let a few witches in and then when it was my turn you shut down the maze, knowing full well that I’m the only one who can navigate the labyrinth. You’ve known all along and you’ve sabotaged my chances.”

“That’s not true. I would never sabotage the labyrinth.” Austin threw up his hands. “If you want to go inside then by all means, go inside. Suit yourself.”

Sheriff Gardener stepped forward. “Enough arguing. What’s the verdict? We now have five witches left inside.”

Wilford cleared his throat, considering what Felicity had said. “We will let the last five witches continue on and then Felicity will be the last to enter. If she wishes to incur the risk. That’s all we can do.”

“I’ve signed the waiver already. That should be enough. I’m committed to doing this and claiming my inheritance. I won’t let you or anyone else stop me from fulfilling Oliver’s dying wish.”

The sheriff’s brow pinched. “I don’t know what’s going on with the enchantments this year, but from what the contestants are reporting, Oliver took his magic to the next level. As long as you know what you’re getting into, I won’t deny you this chance,” he said, but his expression showed his uncertainty.

“I’m prepared and perfectly ready to navigate the labyrinth. I know the magic better than anyone else here because I know Oliver.”

“Let her in,” the sheriff said. “But you’ve been warned. Don’t be afraid to use the beacon if you run into trouble. We’ll be right here.”

As Felicity entered the gate, another beacon exploded in the sky above in a glaring red ball of light and terrified screams filled the air. Before anyone could stop her, Felicity raced inside the maze.

“North side! We have a breach in the wall!” Juniper yelled and the sheriff raced in her direction to assist the witch inside the labyrinth.

The crowd surged to follow the action. Clover walked the opposite direction of the commotion to stay out of everyone’s way. The last thing the sheriff needed was another curious witch getting in the mix. She walked down the other side of the labyrinth where a melodic sound caught her attention. Music drifted from the other side of the hedge. Clover ran her hand along the dense green foliage of the boxwood shrub. The leaves were rounded and leathery and the outer wall was at least three feet thick, making it impossible to peer through. She rested her head against the side. The music faded. “Hello! Can anyone hear me?” she yelled. “Is anyone in there?”

The side of the maze undulated and trembled under her touch, forcing her to pull back.
What was that?
Clover thought. “Hello! Do you need help?”

Tearing sounds followed as if someone was trying to break out of the labyrinth. “Send up a beacon if you can hear me.” She knew it was futile. The labyrinth was its own little world. A spell enclosed the maze, muffling sound from the outside.

The side of the maze began to glow. Clover took a step back and bumped right into someone, but before she could turn around and see who it was, a hood was thrown over her head, and she was shoved to the ground. She instinctively sent a sharp elbow into the stomach of her attacker. A male voice grunted. During the ensuing struggle, she madly grabbed her wand, but just as her hand wrapped around it, it was snatched away from her. The wizard held her by the nape of the neck and pulled her to her feet.

“Get off of me,” she said.

His grip tightened. Pain shot through her neck. Her mind spun. She tried to think of a spell, anything to help her, but everything happened too quickly.

“This is what you get for meddling,” the voice was low and gravely. The only thing that Clover could glean was a smell—a sweet scent permeated the hood she was wearing.

A tearing sound surrounded her. Heat from magical energy hit the front of her body and she tried to recoil, but the wizard gave her nowhere to go. Suddenly, Clover was shoved hard from behind right into the warm energy field. She put her hands out to protect herself, her fingers raking through dense foliage. Clover jerked forward and dropped to her knees on the hard ground in a thud. Her pulse raced, her whole body shaking. Her knees hurt, and her palms were scuffed. When she regained her footing, she yanked off the hood, but she was alone. There was no one there, and she was no longer on the outside of the maze.

Clover was inside the labyrinth. She spun in a frantic circle, but the hedge had been sealed shut behind her. However she’d gotten inside—
pushed through some tear in the hedge by someone who knew how to crack the maze’s defenses
, she guessed—she was now sealed inside with no obvious way out. To make matters worse, her wand was gone.

21

W
ithout an immediate way to send a beacon, Clover dusted herself off and took stock of the situation. She might not have her wand, but luckily she still had the small satchel crossed over her shoulder and chest. Snatching up the black hood, she shoved it inside, hoping it would give the sheriff’s department some clue to the identity of her attacker. The two orbs that the Linders had sold her and the special one Rain had given her were nestled in the bottom of the satchel and were her best bet of getting some attention from the sheriff outside of the maze and getting out of there.

She fingered the orbs and selected a swirling red one that looked like it was made of molten fire.
This should do the trick,
she thought. She palmed the magical device and bounced it up and down a few times in her hand. The sky above was not the same sunny one she’d seen outside of the maze. It looked more like a dingy gray ceiling. The Linders’ firecracker would take care of those clouds, and she’d be out of the maze in no time.

Clover drew back her arm and threw the orb as hard as she could into the sky, while speaking the incantation to ignite it. The tiny ball of magical explosives cleared the maze easily and sailed up into the clouds. She waited, but nothing happened. A few seconds later, the orb plummeted to the ground with a hard thud. When she picked it up, it felt like a dead cold stone. The cloud had swallowed it and spit it back out, sucking it dry of magic. That didn’t work out as expected. Oliver must have enchanted the sky above the maze to cancel out all magic except for beacons.

After that display, there was no way Clover was going to waste the other two orbs. She shook her wrist, jingling her charm bracelet. She was glad she’d loaded up her bracelet at Lavender’s shop with a few wards, a sleeping charm, and some stunning charms at her disposal. Since the orb failed, she decided that she’d have to find one of the witches still remaining inside the labyrinth and have her send up a beacon for her.

The boxwood maze seemed harmless enough, if not a little imposing with the seven-foot high walls of dense greenery. She hurried along the path, navigating the corners as quickly as she could, while still remaining cautious.
Find someone, anyone
.

She heard a strange whining sound up ahead and raced toward the noise.

“Hello. Is anyone there? Felicity, is that you? It’s me, Clover Mayhem. I’m looking for a little help to get out of here.”

“Aren’t we all, dearie?” The voice was slithery, whispery, and then two beady eyes poked out of the hedge at face height.

Clover stopped in her tracks. A grimy opossum with vibrant pink eyes had crawled out of the hedge and was staring at her. It clutched the foliage with its tiny claws, its snaky tail tangled in the leafy maze wall.

Clover smirked. Animals didn’t talk, not even in Everland. Animating a creature or animal was a good illusion created by Oliver, which he’d used for years in the labyrinth. A creepy opossum wasn’t about to scare her or give her pause.

“I can help you if you wish,” the opossum said with a slippery voice.

“I’m sure you can, but no thanks.” Clover didn’t trust the beady-eyed animal. It had trap written all over it, so she dodged the opossum and kept going.

Around the next corner she stopped short just before she stumbled head first into a pool of water. A witch perched on the edge, staring down into her reflection. An illusion pool used the reflection to captivate the viewer with an enticing scene as a trap to keep her from continuing on her journey.

“Excuse me, miss.” Clover eased forward, not wanting to startle her.

The witch glanced up, her face filled with joy. “You’ve come. I’ve been waiting for someone else to come and see what we found.”

Clover welled with sympathy. “Honey, it’s not real. It’s just a trick to keep you from completing the maze. Turn away from it. It’s not real.”

“Oh, but it is. Look inside. There’s Beatrice. She jumped into the pool. She’s always been the daring one. Bravery has its reward and she gets the prize.” The witch pointed and Clover’s gaze followed.

Beneath the pool’s glassy surface was a lavish room filled with gilded chairs and tables heaped with food and goblets of wine. A glamorous, enchanting world existed right beneath their feet, or so it appeared. Clover had to admit the spell was impressive. She’d never seen such an elaborate illusion room. Inside the room, an apparently completely dry witch, presumably Beatrice, lay on an overstuffed chaise as a bare-chested wizard performed magical tricks for her, making jewels and candies appear out of thin air.

But the most interesting thing was the wizard himself. He had two huge wings of glossy black feathers sprouting out of his back. His hair was also made of black feathers and his eyes were giant black orbs. It looked as if the wizard were being transformed into a raven-like bird. Goosebumps cascaded over Clover’s skin. She’d never seen a wizard like him and could see how the witches had been easily drawn in. The captivating room was filled with sunlight, magical, and inviting. It would be so easy to dive in and forget about Oliver Yearling and all her troubles. Feeling the illusion’s pull, Clover quickly averted her gaze.

She shook off the magic and refocused. She bent down and touched the witch’s shoulder. “It’s not real. As good as it looks, it’s still a trap.”

“No, it’s my new home.” Her eyes were glazed over as if in a trance, probably from staring at the spelled pool for too long. The longer a witch stared at an illusion, the deeper the magical spell took hold. Clover didn’t want to get entranced by the illusion, so she pulled a compact from her satchel and used the reflection in the mirror to see what was happening down below.

Shifting his attention to them, the raven wizard slowly rose toward the surface. His arm reached out of the water, but instead of a hand, an ugly hooked claw breached the surface. The arm curled up out of the pool like a tentacle and latched onto the witch’s ankle.

Clover jumped back. “Watch out!”

But the witch didn’t listen. Instead she stroked the claw and said, “I’m going in. You should come with me.”

“No, you can’t.” Clover grabbed the witch’s shoulders and tried to pull her away, but it was no use. Her mind was totally enchanted, and she lashed out at Clover, desperate to get into the illusion room.

“Pass me your wand!” Clover yelled while yanking a stunning charm off her bracelet. In a last-ditch attempt at saving the witch, she threw it at the creature’s tentacle, but the magic backfired off the illusion and ricocheted toward Clover, who threw herself to the ground, avoiding the spell by inches. “That was close,” she gasped. It looked like Oliver’s spells didn’t react well to other magic. No wonder witches were getting hurt.

Water bubbled up from the surface and another clawed arm broke the surface. The witch pulled her wand out of her sleeve and extended it to Clover, but before she could grab it, the raven wizard rose out of the water and enveloped the witch in his huge black wings, glistening with water droplets, and pulled her down into the illusion room in his clawed arms.

Clover shuddered and recoiled from the pool. She took a few steps back and made a running leap over the pool and hurried along, into the center of the labyrinth. She hoped those two witches would be safe enough in the illusion room until she could get help. She had no idea how many witches were left in the maze when the last beacon went off. There had to be at least two or three witches still navigating the labyrinth, and Felicity was sure to be one of them.

Clover dodged corner after corner. Her strategy was to get to the center of the maze and work her way outward while searching for another witch. She passed through a beautiful swarm of glistening blue butterflies. One section of the maze was covered in massive roses and another was crawling with insects the size of her fist. She pushed on but found no one. Tension rippled through her body the longer she went without seeing anyone. She was losing her bearings. How far had she gone?

The sky darkened, thick gray clouds roiling overhead. Booming thunder rattled her bones. Frustration shook her to the core. Every move she made just led to endless corners and alcoves, and yet went nowhere at all. Clover didn’t know what to do or where to go. She raked her fingers along the maze wall and pulled at the leaves, wishing she could punch her way through.

Turning another corner, Clover stepped in something sticky. Her feet tracked through a black substance, leaving a trail of footprints. She bent down and touched the thick ooze, but when she took her hand away, she saw blood.

Her stomach lurched. “Felicity!” she screamed. “Anyone?!”

“Clover, is that you?” A voice called back to her.

Relief washed over her. Finally, she’d found someone who was coherent. She raced toward the voice. Turning a corner fast, she staggered back at what she saw. She’d reached a large alcove in the maze, but it was more than a simple alcove. It was the center of the labyrinth. Her pulse quickened. The area contained a huge carved out circle with an elaborate garden planted in the center, but the startling part was not the garden, but what grew out of it—a massive, gnarled tree with twisted blackened bark. The leaves were slick, waxy black, and thin limbs whipped back and forth in the wind that swirled up from the ground.

Ensnared in the upper branches was a trapped witch moaning in pain. Her clothes were in tatters, her face cut and bruised.

Crouched in a defensive posture, Felicity stood a few yards back with her wand raised, trying to get closer. But at even a flicker of movement, tree branches lashed out, making it nearly impossible to reach the ensnared witch.

“Don’t move,” she warned Clover in a low voice. “This place is cursed. The tree has been enchanted with black magic.”

A chilling ache radiated from the tree and right down into Clover’s bones. The air reeked of brimstone, causing her eyes to water. The ground trembled and cracked beneath her feet. What had Oliver done? Why would he corrupt his beautiful garden that he loved so much? Clover’s head began to pound from breathing in the noxious fumes.

Giant newt-like creatures with slick, rubbery skin and forked tongues crawled all around the base of the tree. “What kind of tree is that?” Clover yelled.

Felicity dodged a snapping tree limb and retreated to Clover’s position.

“It’s a poisonwood tree. They’re very rare. I thought they were a myth,” Felicity said, breathlessly. She was drenched in sweat. “I don’t know where Oliver found it or how he enchanted the tree. But on top of the black magic, the tree itself is filled with poison. It’s toxic to the touch.”

Clover’s body tensed. “A poisonous tree. What a terrible thing to put inside of the maze. Felicity, Oliver wasn’t in his right mind when he designed this. His illness had to be the reason he did this. He wasn’t thinking clearly to want to hurt his own kind,” she said, wanting to give her neighbor the benefit of the doubt.

“The maze was his pride and joy. He considered it his best work yet. The maze has been transformed. It’s more dangerous and powerful than ever.” Sweat gleamed on her forehead.

Clover wasn’t sure if she heard disgust or pride in Felicity’s voice. “I hate to state the obvious, but this game is over. Send up a beacon and get the sheriff in here now. We need help.”

“I’ve tried, but when I raise my wand the vine tightens around the witch’s neck.” Felicity pointed to the struggling witch in the branches. A thin black vine was tangled like a choker around the witch’s throat.

“You knew Oliver best. What do you suggest we do?” Clover asked.

“I’ve got to get to the tree, climb up, and free the witch manually. Oliver was building a game, a puzzle where witches had to solve problems.” Her brow knitted.

“I think he’s taken the game aspect a bit too far this time.”

Felicity practically marveled at her surroundings. “This is just the beginning. The game has stakes, high stakes. That’s what makes the maze so much more than it ever was. This time the game really matters, because lives are at stake. It’s brilliant.”

Clover narrowed her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “A witch’s life matters more than winning a game. It’s insane,” she snapped.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m only trying to get into Oliver’s head. How can we get close enough to the witch without the tree reacting? As harsh as it sounds, that’s the key to solving the puzzle and winning the game.”

Clover didn’t like it, but Felicity was probably right. The witch ensnared in the tree was turning blue. If they didn’t do something now, she would be strangled to death. “We need to attack with all the magic we have so we can get close enough to free her by hand,” Clover said.

“I’ll distract the tree, while you come up from behind and cut her down if necessary,” Felicity said.

The two witches formulated the plan of attack and got into position with Felicity taking the lead and Clover bringing up the rear.

Felicity threw stunning spells from the palm of her hand, but nothing was penetrating the poisonwood or damaging the tree. Clover heaved one of the orbs toward the target. The explosion of red sparks and a flash of heat filled the branches and washed over the entire area, allowing Felicity cover as she sprinted the final distance to the tree. Hopefully the explosion would alert the sheriff to the trouble inside the maze. Unfortunately, the tree reacted to the magical attack. Thick roots broke through the ground and ripped toward Felicity, but she tumbled out of the way like a gymnast. A branch flung back and forth, sending a barrage of poison darts directly at Clover. In the last second, she yanked a charm free from her bracelet, throwing up a ward just in time to avoid an onslaught of sharp spears.

Clover’s heart raced. Swallowing her fear, she pushed on. She knelt behind the ward and kept the side of the maze to her back as she slid toward the blackened tree trunk. The stench was wretched. The maze wall shuddered against her back, sending a chill up her spine. Suddenly, the opossum was back, peeking through the bush and whispering in her ear. “Need some help?” it asked.

“Beat it, creep. I’m busy.”

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” Its whiskers twitched. “Think of me as your guardian familiar.”

Clover rolled her eyes. “Now is not a good time. Unless you’re going to tell me how to get the witch down, I don’t have time for games.”

“This maze was designed by Oliver Yearling. I also am his creation. Everything is interconnected.”

She shot the opossum a warning glare. “Then I’m definitely not talking to you. In case you hadn’t noticed, this maze has been infected with black magic. It’s cursed. For all I know, you’re a part of that.”