The Second Siege (41 page)

“We’re not leaving her behind,” protested Miss Boon. “She deserves a proper burial!”

A member of the Red Branch interrupted Cooper’s reply.

“William,” called the man, staring over the bluff. Cooper stood and strode toward the overlook.

Max hurried over and saw the beach crawling with vyes and goblins, whose bent backs dripped with seawater and glistened under the moonlight. Upon landing, the creatures set to assembling pontoon bridges that were anchored into bedrock like a dozen jetties, extending farther and farther through the chop toward the galleons, where Max could see the silhouettes of great siege engines being hooked onto heavy cranes.

There was a hoarse cry from the beach as Max and the others were seen. Goblin arrows flew at them in lethal arcs. Max felt one thud against his torso, snapping harmlessly on Señor Lorca’s shirt. Following the volley of arrows, vyes began to swarm up the ruined remnants of stairs that led from the beach.

Cooper yanked Max away from the edge of the bluff.

“Run!” he shouted.

Cooper gathered up Miss Boon and dashed back toward the Manse, whose windows were all alight and looking strangely festive. Turning, Max saw the dark shapes of the first vyes rise above the windswept rim of the overlook. Several stooped over the body of Ms. Richter. Max stopped running as rage boiled in his chest.

A firm hand seized him.

“Don’t you dare,” growled Cooper, pulling him forward.

More vyes scrambled over the bluff and fanned across the lawns in pursuit, some running upright while others galloped through the rain on all fours. Miss Boon began falling behind, unable to keep pace with the Agents. Without breaking stride, Cooper swept the teacher up onto his shoulder. The group sprinted past the Manse, Max and the others practically flying down the worn paths that wound past the orchard and Smithy, until they neared the Sanctuary door.

Dozens of people were already clustered about it, chattering in the cold as they waited helplessly in the downpour. Max recognized Mr. Morrow among the crowd. Bob stood in the group’s center, towering above them and doing his best to shield them from the storm.

“Why aren’t you inside?” yelled Cooper. “They should know we’re coming.”

“Vilyak came first,” replied Bob with a growl. “We can’t get in.”

Cooper set to pushing and tugging at the great ring in the door’s center. The door did not budge.

“Bob has already tried,” muttered the ogre, a hint of grim humor in his voice as he watched the far weaker human tremble with exertion.

“Hazel,” said Cooper, his voice even, “can you open this?”

Miss Boon hurried forward, muttering several spells even as howls and cries echoed from the woods around them. Despite her efforts, the door remained fast.

Snapping branches and hoarse calls sounded from the woods. Cooper yelled a word of command and the closest tree ignited like a sparkler whose flames leapt from tree to tree until the whole forest seemed ablaze despite the rain. Hideous screams rang out, sending the freed prisoners and elderly refugees into a gibbering panic. Practically frantic, Miss Boon tried spell after spell with no success.

Something galloped into the clearing.

It was a jet-black vye, its fur badly singed and its face hideously half human as it leapt over the fence of the stable’s riding ring and hurled itself at Mr. Morrow. Max saw a great hand surge forward; the vye gave a strangled yelp as Bob caught it by its throat.

With sudden uncharacteristic savagery, the ogre dashed the vye repeatedly against the rain-spattered earth, continuing to snap its bones well after the monster was dead.

Bob stood panting over the vye’s misshapen carcass a moment, a primal, horrifying gleam consuming his once friendly features. Cooper began to approach, but a low rumble emanated from Bob’s chest and the Agent stopped dead in his tracks. Max knew there was language in that rumble—a nearly subsonic warning to keep well away from an ogre that had just killed for the first time in decades. Cooper backed away slowly while Bob leaned heavily against the fence, taking slow gulps of air as his massive head scanned the forest.

Other wolfish silhouettes arrived at the fringe of the burning woods. They rose onto their hind legs and assessed the situation, considerably more cautious than their maddened comrade who lay broken behind the ogre. One of the vyes lifted its head and howled. The others followed suit and soon the whole forest was alive with terrifying calls that led yet more vyes to the clearing.

Bob reached for a rusted spade nearby, hefting the heavy tool as though it were a toy. Straightening, the ogre stalked toward the vyes and gave a roar.

Even within the Course, Max had never heard anything so awful.

Only a cornered creature could make such a sound. It was a booming, defiant bellow that mixed fear and rage and love in equal measure. The vyes shrank back initially, preferring the shelter of the forest, despite the falling embers. But their courage grew as their numbers swelled and they began to encircle the ogre, baring their jagged teeth and clawing at the muddy earth for purchase.

Several vyes leapt forward and Bob swung the shovel, shattering one’s muzzle with a heavy clang. With another swing, the ogre flattened a second vye. But then the others were upon him, snarling and snapping as they crashed into his hulking form and scrabbled for his throat. Bob roared again and pushed them back with his free hand, swinging the dented shovel wildly about as other vyes rushed in like the tide.

Max went to Bob’s aid, but Cooper yanked him backward by the shirt.

“He needs help!” screamed Max.

“I’ve got it,” muttered Cooper, taking ahold of Max’s wrist. “Protect the others.”

“No!”
yelled Max, pulling away his hand with such force that Cooper almost lost his footing.

Max hurried toward the fray, trying to reach Bob, who was now surrounded and straining under the weight of four vyes that clung to him, sinking their teeth into his flesh and wrenching their heads from side to side like feeding sharks. Seizing the first, Max yanked its head back and exposed its throat to the cold moon.

Vye after vye fell to Max’s knives. Their matted forms collapsed into the mud as Max moved among them, a lethal blur against the backdrop of rain and burning trees. From the corner of his eye, Max spied a particularly thick vye, almost boar-like in its visage, sneak close to Bob to venture a nip at the wounded ogre. Furious, Max whirled and split its head in two. He kicked its body aside and turned, looking wildly about for another nearby adversary.

There were none. Hundreds of vyes had gathered by now, ringed about the burning forest and peering at him, but none would venture close.

Panting, Max turned and looked at Bob. The ogre had collapsed into a bleeding mound, his hand blindly groping for the shovel that lay beyond his reach. Tears burned Max’s cheeks as he crouched in the rain by the ogre amidst the dozens of fallen vyes that lay about them, their tongues lolling from lifeless jaws. It was several seconds before Max realized Cooper was calling to him.

“Max, come here.”

The Agent’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet urgency to it. Max glanced back and saw the Red Branch in a defensive ring around the refugees. Beyond the people huddled by the door, Max saw Nolan’s concerned face peering out from the Sanctuary tunnel.

“Inside, Max!” cried Nolan, pushing the door wider. “Hurry now!”

Max looked back at the cowardly vyes slinking among the trees. Blood drummed in his temples and his fingers twitched while he fought to master the Old Magic that surged and strained against his will. Max heard footsteps behind him and whirled. It was Cooper.

“Help me bring Bob in,” said the Agent, taking hold of Bob’s wrist.

While the refugees streamed inside the open door, Max and Cooper dragged Bob’s thousand-pound body swiftly through the mud. The vyes crept forward from the trees as they retreated. The Red Branch entered the tunnel last, backing sinuously through the doorway, their eyes never leaving the advancing vyes.

Once all were through, Nolan slammed the heavy door shut. Cooper left Bob’s side and helped Nolan slide its heavy bolt into place.

“Will it hold them?” asked Cooper, looking dubiously at the door.

“For a while yet, I think,” said Nolan. Even as he spoke, however, dirt rained from the door’s hinges as heavy blows fell upon it from the other side. “She’s stouter than she looks, anyway—been strengthened by a heap of spells.”

“How did you know to come?” muttered Cooper, ushering the others away from the door and through the canopy of trees, whose warmer air was fragrant with pine. Max followed quietly after, listening to the men’s conversation.

“Vilyak showed up alone,” muttered Nolan. “All by his lonesome and full of stories. He should know better than to lie to YaYa. . . .”

YaYa was waiting where the tunnel met the clearing, huge and majestic against the starlit waters of the lagoon. Her black fur shimmered in the dark as she stood panting, having evidently come a great distance at a great pace. YaYa was the oldest living thing at Rowan, and Max feared the journey had taken a hard toll on the ancient ki-rin.

It was YaYa, however, who volunteered to transport Bob, insisting that the wounded ogre be draped across her back until Nolan could fashion a crude stretcher at the Warming Lodge. The once welcoming building was now silent and dark, its stalls empty, as all the young charges had been evacuated. While Nolan built the litter, Max saw the extent of Bob’s injuries. Deep puncture wounds riddled his back and arms, like stitching. In some places, whole chunks of flesh had been ripped away. The ogre lay silent while Miss Boon and several others did their best to stanch the bleeding.

Max could not watch.

He walked back outside and stood at the edge of the lagoon, stirring the water with his hand and calling softly for Frigga and Helga. But the selkie sisters did not come; no winking seal’s face or bawdy joke greeted Max from the cool water. The realization that the sisters had gone—fled, most likely, to whatever distant waters fed the lagoon—somehow infused Rowan’s predicament with a reality and weight that Max had not yet had the opportunity to feel. He felt it now, however. The siege and its many implications washed over Max in numbing waves while he stirred the waters and hoped the selkies were safe.

By the time the stretcher had been built, Miss Boon’s spells had managed to halt Bob’s bleeding and put the injured ogre to sleep. Once Bob had been secured to the stretcher, the group began the long, slow march into the Sanctuary’s depths. While they walked, Max’s rage subdued into a simmer and he finally felt capable of speaking. He turned to Cooper, who walked beside him as they trailed behind the group.

“I’m sorry I didn’t obey,” said Max.

Cooper waved it off.

“I learned things,” explained Max. “In the Sidh. I knew I could—”

“I understand,” said Cooper quietly. “It was right for you to be the one.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

They walked in silence, Max surveying the landscape, until Nolan came back to check on them.

“Have you seen Nick?” asked Max hoarsely.

“Not to worry, son,” drawled Nolan. “He’s with your dad. Most of the charges are safely in the cliffs by now and the others can best look after themselves. The wild ones are out, though—seen a few lurking around. I think they know something’s wrong.”

Max thought of the wild charges that had tracked them the previous year when he and his friends had visited Mr. Morrow’s distant cottage. Bob had warned that wild charges could be dangerous, having long since forgotten that humans ever looked after them.

As Max reminisced on that fateful evening, he found himself glowering ahead at Mr. Morrow. The disgraced instructor seemed to sense he was being watched and halted to peer back at them. Upon meeting Max’s gaze, he looked away and hobbled ahead to engage an elderly couple in quiet conversation. Max swallowed his disgust and walked in silence, thinking instead of the wild charges and how he belonged among them.

They made their way across the wide clearing, guided by starlight, until they arrived at the low, forested hills that rose toward the first snow-capped peaks. They hiked along a path that had now been traveled many times, the way worn smooth by recent traffic. As they walked, however, Cooper lingered behind, muttering spells that masked their progress. In their wake, grass, rock, and soil were scattered and rearranged until the land looked wild and untouched.

Footsore, the stragglers trudged toward the river, following Nolan across a path of low stones that lay just beneath the swift, dark water. Max marveled as the ki-rin walked across the water unimpeded, her great paws making nary a ripple as she towed the injured ogre across. Once they crossed the river, it was over a mile of trudging progress until they reached the base of the cliffs. Gazing up, Max saw openings cut into the rock face, many so high that they appeared no larger than mouse holes.

Nolan cupped his hands and yelled up. A head peered out far above and soon a large fenced platform was lowered on a system of ropes and pulleys. They stepped onto the sturdy platform and were promptly whisked up the rock wall, climbing some two hundred feet until the pulleys ground to a halt and the platform was lowered onto a smooth rock ledge.

Looking about, Max saw sacks of grain and bushel baskets of apples stacked next to oil paintings and bronze statuary. The people and property of Rowan had been stuffed into every nook and cranny of an enormous series of connected chambers and tunnels. Stepping off the platform, Max shouldered David’s pack and gazed in wonder at the high arches and smooth stone. Nolan departed with Mr. Morrow and the refugees, while Max, Miss Boon, and the Red Branch escorted YaYa and Bob toward the hospital.

As they walked, Max gazed about, watching hundreds of Rowan students, faculty, and families busy as bees as they organized the spaces into storage or living quarters. In one cave, they spied people busily reassembling greenhouses whose bulbs were powered by humming generators. Max saw a familiar face overseeing the work and trotted toward Dr. Rasmussen.

“Did you get them here?” asked Max. “My father and David?”

“I did,” said Rasmussen, wiping a smudge of grease from his chin. “They’re safe, but it was not an easy trip for David.”

Max thanked him and hurried across the cavern where some First Years were helping Mum, Bellagrog, and the kitchen staff as they unpacked mountains of crates containing canned and jarred foods of every description. As the convoy approached, Mum sniffed and spun on her heel, dropping a can of tuna fish. The hag blinked at Bob, who might have been a bandaged pile of masonry. With a shriek, Mum skittered over.

“What happened to him?” she bawled, practically bowling over an Agent as she hurried to Bob’s side. YaYa came to a halt as the hag climbed about the motionless ogre, sniffing into every nook and cranny while her beady eyes inspected the more serious wounds. Mum slowly dissolved into sobs, a pitiful series of gulping wheezes, until Bob gave an irritated grumble and managed a squeeze of the hag’s finger. Mum wept with gratitude, clinging to the ogre’s massive body like a stubby starfish.

A shadow fell across the pair as Bellagrog waddled over.

“Oi!” she said, looking the ogre up and down. “Seen better days, eh, Bob? Shoulda kept yer nose outta trouble, I reckon, like me Nan always said. Whatchoo thinking about, anyway, love? You ain’t in no shape to be scrapping awa—”

Bellagrog never finished the sentence.

With a shriek, Mum launched herself at her sister, swinging wildly at the bloated hag’s protuberant nose. The pair toppled over in a snarling, scratching tangle of flowered skirts and skittering beads. When the Agents separated them, Bellagrog was bleeding from a nasty gash in her lip and Mum’s crocodile eye was swollen shut. Flushed at the apparent draw, Bellagrog shook a meaty fist at her sobbing sister.

“I’ll
kill ya
for that, Bea!” she bellowed. “Sentimental gobbledygook done rotted yer brain, ye silly thing!” A fiendish hush came over her. “You just made the top of me list.”

“Ha!” screeched Mum in a peal of mad laughter. “You been yapping away about ‘the list’ since I was a hagling. . . .”

The two shrieked and threatened each other with an impressive array of grisly deaths until several Agents managed to gently but forcibly escort the feuding hags down separate corridors.

Despite the ugly scene, Max felt his mind shift into an assessment of Rowan’s situation. Looking about, he felt somewhat heartened. The caves seemed almost impregnable and with all their supplies and preparations he thought they might indeed hold off an army until David was strong enough to join the fight. Max harbored no illusions regarding Rowan’s chances—
everything
hinged on David Menlo and the Book of Thoth. As YaYa dragged Bob’s litter onward, Max hurried after, anxious to see his friend.

They passed several caves with many tents and resting families until they came upon a vast cavern that had been converted into a sort of hospital. Moomenhovens scurried about, hovering over patients who were arranged in neat rows of cots. Against the far wall, Max saw his father sitting by David’s bedside. Max, Cooper, and Miss Boon crept up, so as not to disturb David. Mr. McDaniels turned at their approach and stood to greet them, practically engulfing Max in a bear hug.

“How are you?” whispered Max.

“Snug as a bug in a . . . cave, I suppose,” replied his father.

Max looked at his roommate, who lay on the cot. A bit of color had returned to David’s face in the weeks since he’d been stabbed, but he still did not look well. Max stood by his friend’s side for several moments, but David did not stir.

“I’ll check back,” he said at last, his gaze lingering on the wrap that covered David’s ugly wound. Miss Boon nodded and kissed Max on the forehead before pulling up a chair next to Mr. McDaniels. His Mystics instructor had held up well since Ms. Richter had fallen, but now Max saw the event etched in the young woman’s face. Taking a seat by David, she stared off into space, murmuring thanks when Cooper draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“This is particularly hard on her,” said Cooper once he’d ushered Max away. The pair continued on, walking past more tents and cooking fires in long strides. “She idolized the Director, as I’m sure you know....”

Cooper trailed off, his hard eyes staring at Max’s training knife.

“I’d meant to ask you earlier,” grunted the Agent. “Where is the
gae bolga
?”

Max had been dreading the question and almost winced as he replied.

“Here,” said Max, shaking David’s pack. “In a hundred little pieces. It broke in the Sidh, Cooper. The training knives are all I’ve got.”

“That won’t do,” said Cooper, frowning as they followed the sound of hushed voices. They arrived at a cave, dark but for a cluster of lanterns at its center. Max saw the senior faculty, including Miss Awolowo and Miss Kraken, in quiet conversation. Several members of the Red Branch had already arrived, but Max looked past them to a shadowy corner where Yuri Vilyak dabbed gingerly at a bandage on his scalp. He nodded in greeting, but Max did not acknowledge him.

“If you’re here to finish this coward, you’ll have to wait,” said Miss Kraken, gesturing for Max and Cooper to sit. She narrowed her eyes and offered Vilyak a scornful look. “It’s a pity YaYa isn’t a bit younger.”

Vilyak shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

“I’ve already said I believed the others lost—there was nothing else I could do,” he muttered.

“A leader does
not
leave his people behind, Commander Vilyak!” erupted Miss Awolowo. “A leader does
not
bolt the door and leave his comrades to the Enemy!”

“Any verdict regarding Yuri Vilyak will have to wait,” said Miss Kraken decisively. “We have other matters to discuss. It is my view that we cannot simply hide,” she said. “We must seek to distract and delay them however we can until better options present themselves. We must send the Red Branch out to meet them.”

“We already sent the Promethean Scholars,” muttered Vilyak, earning a furious glare from Miss Kraken. The man raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. “You did not see the invading force, Annika. I did. And I tell you it would be folly to meet them in the open. Better to defend a strong place until David Menlo heals and can spirit us away or hide us again using the Old Magic. Until then, the Red Branch is needed here.”

“You don’t speak for the Red Branch,” said Cooper. “I do.”

“Nonsense,” said Vilyak. “I never relinquished command. It’s mine unless I’m—”

Vilyak went silent as Cooper drew his knife, testing its weight in his hand.

“We can honor the ritual if you like,” said Cooper. “But we both know the outcome.”

For long seconds, silence filled the chamber. Finally Miss Kraken spoke.

“Cooper, we don’t have time for this,” she muttered.

“It’ll be over quick, Miss Kraken,” replied Cooper, his voice taut as wire. “I promise.”

Miss Kraken turned to Vilyak, who fidgeted uncomfortably while he searched Cooper’s unblinking face. With a sudden cough, he dismissed a potential duel, affecting a good-natured laugh.

“Annika is right,” he said. “This is a time for decisions, not misunderstandings and infighting. You take command, Cooper. After all, I’m hardly fit with this unfortunate wound. We can revisit that issue later. . . .”

“Fine,” snapped Miss Kraken with brisk authority. The old woman’s eyes turned toward Max and her voice softened. “Max, I think you know where our hopes lie. . . .”

Max nodded, feeling all the eyes turn to him as Miss Kraken continued.

“When he returned, David Menlo shared some of his adventures in the Sidh. He said he could understand the Book; he claimed that he could use it. Is this true, Max?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The gate cannot hold and we cannot hide forever,” said Miss Kraken, her keen eyes searching his face. “The Enemy is coming. Our only hope lies with David and the Book of Thoth. We have David, and the Moomenhovens say he is healing. We must know whether we have the Book.”

The question was pointed, and Max was aware that Miss Kraken already knew the answer. He glanced at Cooper and the tall Agent nodded. Slinging David’s battered satchel off his shoulder, Max retrieved the golden Book and held it to his chest.

“It goes to David,” said Max. “Only David. Do I have your word, Miss Kraken?”

“You do, my child,” said the old Mystic, offering a solemn bow. “I understand your misgivings—you have seen Rowan betray her own. We must learn to trust again. Let it begin with me.”

Max crossed the chamber and placed the Book of Thoth in the old woman’s hands. She did not even glance at its exquisite cover but promptly wrapped it in the folds of her shawl. Vilyak grunted.

“So we have it,” he said. “But how will we keep the wolves from our door, Annika?”

“I will,” said Max. “I’ll keep them away until David is strong enough.”

“And how do you intend to do that, my boy?” snapped Vilyak.

Pride quickened the Old Magic in Max’s blood. His fingers twitched and the leviathan within him began to stir once again. He glanced at Vilyak and thought how small and weak the man looked, propped as he was against the wall, nursing his wound. Max controlled his impulse and swallowed.

“I’ll do it with fear,” he said quietly. “The Enemy will fear to venture beyond the clearing.”

Vilyak laughed with disbelief.

“Ah, the exuberance of youth!” he said. “Where does it go?”

Several members of the Red Branch smiled, but Cooper did not. Miss Kraken turned to him.

“You have seen the army and you know this boy,” said Miss Kraken. “What is your counsel?”

Cooper’s taut, shiny face stared at the ground in patient repose. He closed his eyes and spoke only after long seconds had passed.

“Max and I will meet the Enemy in the Sanctuary and delay them as best we can.”

“And why is that your counsel, William?” asked Miss Kraken, ignoring Vilyak’s muttering.

“Because I’ve never seen anything like Max before,” replied the Agent. “And neither have they.”