'It didn't seem real. Whatever spell that had been cast on the room was powerful, yet Godric found himself questioning every thread of it. What they were about to do. . . it couldn't be possible. After all, how could Salazar know?
'"I still doubt you should take these boys," Jonas repeated. He stood near the window overlooking the lake, his back toward Caspian, Salazar, and Godric. "Caspian, they are little more than children."
'"Children who know more than anyone else," Caspian said softly. "If Salazar here is correct. . ." He closed his eyes, teeth clenched. "Malak is a monster. All of them are. I will not stand for this, not when we can get Rowena back."
'"If Rose knew you were taking her son. . ."
'Godric felt Caspian turn to him, approval in his eyes. He had volunteered to go with Caspian; if his mother found out, it would his own fault.
'"I believe Godric can take care of himself." Caspian pivoted to the door, slivery wand clenched tight in his hand. "Well, then. We are off."
'"Caspian." Jonas' voice was not loud, but his nephew stopped just the same. The old man turned away from the window, his mouth twisted among his wrinkles into a frown. "I will not say this isn't foolishness. You can only be glad Lord Clearwater does not know of this. Salazar here. . ." He managed a small smile at the boy whose hands were thrust into the pockets of his robe. "I do not doubt what Salazar says. And I know that you love Heather. I've never met her betrothed, but if the Fighters have roped him into their game, he is no good. But perhaps. . ." He sighed, body trembling. "Perhaps it would be best to leave things as they are."
'Foolishness! Godric's hands instinctively balled themselves into fists. He wouldn't contradict his uncle, he couldn't. Yet he couldn't stop the words from tumbling from his mouth. "But they might kill her! She's just a little girl." He glanced at Salazar, expecting some sort of backup, some angry cry.
'But Salazar just stared a long time at Jonas, face calm and serious. Then, without a word, he opened the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him.
'Caspian dared laugh.
'"We'll be careful," Godric muttered, springing to the door. "Lord Clearwater spoke of a prophecy. Rowena has to be a part of it."
'"Ricky," he heard Jonas call.
'But he was out in the corridor, in no mood to listen.
'Salazar was already there, sitting on the floor with this legs curled into his chest. "Jonas is the fool."
'"Jonas isn't a fool, he's—" There was no point in defending anyone. Godric shook his head and dropped to the floor next to his friend. "Yes, he is a fool. He's a Squib, though; he can't be blamed."
'"Even Squibs would know what we should do." Salazar picked lazily at a loose rock in the wall. "And the Fighers. . . how can we ever be expected to stop them if we can't even face them?"
'"We can't just let them. . . live."
'"I don't think it's about life." He gave up on the stone and reached again into his pocket. "I know where to go. We'll find Rowe."
'The door opened and a third time, and Caspian appeared, face hard and red. Evidently there had been a fight. But one look at the boys and he smiled, a wild grin of determination. "Come on," he said brightly. "Before nightfall. Salazar, you know the way."
'Salazar nodded and stood up.
'Terminus Clearwater's castle had never seemed so large to Godric, not even the first time he had come to it. The halls twisted in on themselves in impossible contrast against what he had always seen. Why was it taking so long to get outside? He found himself trailing along behind Caspian and Salazar, his feet almost fatigued from walking.
'"Ricky." A shock of blonde hair appeared in the hall's torchlight as a girl stepped into his path.
'Godric blinked. "Helga." How stupid a greeting; he made an awkward bow. "What are you doing…?"
'His voice trailed off as she entered the torchlight, shadows tearing into her face like they shouldn't. . . "Demons and hell, what happened?"
'Helga gingerly touched the bruise at her eye and winced. "It's. . . nothing. Don't worry. I heard. . . I heard that Salazar knows where Rowena is." She finished with a smile, demanding a reply, and for several long moments there was nothing but an awkward silence.
'Godric, unable to take his eyes off her face, nodded. "Yes. . . we're. . .we're leaving now."
'She gave a small laugh. "You aren't."
'"I will be, once I catch up."
"Of course." She nodded. "I know you'll bring her back."
Finally, confidence. "We're going to try."
"You will. But. . . . oh, Ricky! Please be careful!" She jumped forward, quickly brushing her lips against his. "Sorry."
How bad he must be blushing. Suddenly he had an urge to grab her and kiss her back. "Don't be. And I will be careful."
She laughed again, louder. "You had better. Now hurry."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Yes, nothing seemed real.
How odd it was that it would be in that very spot. Salazar almost expected it a mistake, had it none been for Ethelinda's gently gnawing of his finger. He pushed his way through the trees, constant amazement at the idiocy of it all running through his mind. The old boulders of the altars almost melted into the shadows around them, as if trying to hide themselves. How lucky they couldn't.
"I don't believe it," Caspian Evans muttered behind him. The brush of the forest was not as kind to him, and more than a few spells had been necessary to make his way through. Some wizards would have probably given up against the forest's magic. But Caspian was stubborn; Salazar admired him for that. "You said. . . you said this is where they brought her afterwards, after she was taken from the Woodkeep land."
Rowena lying helpless on the ground like some sort of doll. . . Salazar's fingers went cold. And he had done nothing. He couldn't have done anything. But he would do something now. And if it took the rest of his life, he would make up that list time to her.
Godric entered last and surveyed the ruins with a laugh. "Here, of all places. They really are cowards, aren't they?"
"Cowards through and through," Salazar agreed.
"Cowards?" Ethelinda chuckled. "I wouldn't call them cowardly as much as wise. To hide here in the forest. . . why, that magic alone provides more than a decent fortress."
Salazar nodded grimly and walked among the rocks. Ethelinda had explained it earlier, though the instructions had required something of a translation – a serpent saw the world differently than a human, and vise versa. The end result had left him with some confusion. "Which one is it?"
"The swamp mist one." She wriggled in delight. "It feels very cool to slide under."
He sighed. "And which one is that?"
"You humans know nothing, Snake-Talker. Just. . . bring me near them. I'll find it."
Caspian and Godric cast oblivion, still taking in the ruins as it if were all something new. Caspian had a sword drawn, hilt aglow with what little sunlight came through. Resorting to a Muggle weapon. Silly.
"It's this one," Ethelinda announced.
Salazar stood next to one of the larger boulders of the ruins, though it was still broken. A gooey moss blanketed most of it.
"Just touch it." She poked her tiny head from his pocket, letting her tongue flick against the moss. "Yes, this is it. Oh, just like a proper swamp, it is!"
Somewhat dubious, Salazar pulled out his wand and forced the tip into the moss.
"Good. Now pull it down, and then make a sharp angle to the left."
He did so, and the rock began to shake.
Earthquake! He leaped back, only to realize that it was indeed just the boulder. Mouth dry, he turned to Caspian and Godric. They were already rushing over, Caspian's sword slicing dangerously into the air.
"What in all of hell?" Caspian drew out his wand, the tip aglow. "Salazar, what have you done? How did you know how to do this?"
"Silence, Snake-Talker." Ethelinda slid back into his pocket.
"I just. . . knew." A downright lie and humiliating. Well, he was used to that.
The rock continued to shake, the moss and stone whirling faster and faster in the single shape. And then, the boulder was gone. It had faded into the air, or vanished into whatever the forest held. In its place was a wide hole in the earth.
The three looked at each other. Then Caspian cleared his throat and knelt down to dip his hand into the hole. "Interesting. Salazar, I am most impressed." Sticking his sword back into its sheathe, he leapt into the hole.
It was not long before he dropped. Salazar could still see him, red hair visible against the darkness.
"It's not bad!" Caspian called back up. "Only about eight feet."
"What's down there?" Godric asked, jumping in as well. "Nevermind. I'm here. Come on, Sal."
Salazar stared down into the hole. Was she down there? Well, Caspian and Godric had survived.
Ethelinda seemed to find it amusing. "And you called others cowards? Jump, Snake-Talker."
Rowe, he thought dimly. He leaped down.
Beneath was a cave, a tunnel cramped and earthy. Salazar gasped for breath against the clouds of dirt that billowed into his mouth and nose. The only light were two orbs ahead stemming from lit wands.
"Lumos," he whispered, pulling his own out. Then he hurried forward. The path under his feet was firm, well-packed. Clearly it had been traveled on many a time. That was good, he supposed. Or it could be bad. As for the tunnel walls, he found them disappointing. He wasn't quite sure what he would have expected, but when one enters the domain of such a sect of the Order, well. . . there just might be more to everything.
"Bones," Ethelinda murmured.
"Bones?" Something crunched under his feet. He lifted back his foot and nearly screamed. Yes, bones. A carpet of loose bones extending for the next ten feet of the tunnel floor.
What did the Fighters think they were doing? And his father. . . Salazar bit his lip until the blood flowed. His own father was a part of this monstrosity. Deep hatred welled up inside of him.
"Salazar!" Godric called suddenly, his voice echoing. There was something. . . wrong. "Come here!"
Salazar glanced one more time at the bones, then squeezes his eyes shut and ran across them. His feet slipped over them, threatening to fall into that horrible mess. . . he finally reached the firm safety of the other side. He let his eyes fall open. Godric and Caspian were only feet ahead, staring at something on the ground.
No. "Rowe!" he heard himself scream, and he resumed running. They were too late. Damn it all, they were too late. What had happened? What had they done to her? Bile burned at his lips.
"Perhaps he shouldn't look—" Caspian started, raising a hand to block Salazar.
But he had to see. He pushed past Caspian.
It wasn't Rowena.
A man lay crumpled in a lake of blood, a scab of red only recently crusted over his slashed neck. Open eyes stared blankly before him.
Ethelinda gave a hiss of surprise.
Salazar felt his legs go limp as his stomach churned. It was his father. Lying there, dead. . . it wasn't right. Whatever he had thought earlier, this wasn't right. In a thousand nightmares, this wasn't what he had wanted for his father's punishment.
He hadn't wished it, had he?
He was going to be sick.
"Catch him!" a distant voice shouted. Strong arms grabbed his own and lowered him to the floor. Near the body.
"No!" He gasped for breath, his throat already aching with vomit and his scream, and struggled to his feet. "We can't. . ." Couldn't what? "Rowe. We still have to find her."
"But—" Godric started, but Caspian nodded.
"Yes." He gingerly pushed Salazar forward, safely past his body. The cold eyes were still on him. "Salazar is right, Ricky. We can't turn back."
"But your father," Ethelinda pressed. "Snake-Talker, this is your kin!"
And the one who had lied to him. The initial horror still held Salazar's body in throbbing shock. But if he could just keep that one thought in mind. . . Like sleepwalking he followed let Caspian lead him down the tunnel, leaving the corpse behind. It didn't matter; he could still see his father—the image may have been burned into his eyelids. His father. A sob choked at him. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't cry. . . the tears were coming. His hand found its way to his pocket, and he stroked Ethelinda's warm, scaly body. At least she was alive.
"I am sorry, Snake-Talker," she said. "I am most sorry. Perhaps you should turn around."
But the body lay back there. And he still had to find Rowena. That came first. He could think of the other later. Rowena couldn't be much farther.
She wasn't. They found her curled up in a nest of ragged blankets, eyes shut. Sleeping. Yes, she was but sleeping, Salazar thought. Her fingers clutched loosely at the edge of a blanket and her black curls hung around her pale face.
Too pale.
Godric was the first to her. He grabbed her wrist, then slammed his other hand to her forehead. "She's alive," he announced. But there was fear in his voice.
Alive. The words seemed to echo. "What's wrong?"
"Fever. She's burning up with it."
Salazar's hand whipped across the air toward her. They were killing her. They were letting her die.
"We got to get her out of here," Caspian said. "Your father—I mean, Siyth–must
have been the guard. I wonder who killed him. Marigold knows the healing arts." He scooped her up into his arms.
Instantly the tunnel changed. Salazar gasped, dropping to the floor as the walls spun. His hands did not touch the earth as he expected. Instead they touched. . . carpet. He brushed it again in disbelief. Yes, carpet. Expensive . . red. The color of blood. In a panic he jumped to his feet.
They were in a room, bed chambers, to be exact. The fanciest he had ever seen. Godric sat on the floor, gazing around him. Caspian stood near, Rowena still clutched tightly to his chest, staring in horror at the massive bed against the wall.
A man slowly sat up in the bed, a torn shirt exposing bare chest. For a moment he stared at them, just as horrified as Caspian.
What sort of sick mistake was this?
But then the man frowned. "Of course," he said slowly, nodding. "Of course. I should have never slackened in their request. To guard a young child. . . how hard was it to be?" He trembled, the blood draining from his face. "But the child is here. Their promise was kept. The child's kidnappers would be brought to me for judgment." A painful smile twisted onto his lips. "How ironic it would be my rival."
"Caspian?" A female voice, barely audible, sounded from the bed. "Caspian!"
A look of understanding came into Caspian's eyes. "Heather!" With one swift motion he lay Rowena gently on the floor and rushed to the bed. "Heather!"
She began to cry.
Caspian stared at the bed, his body rigid. Then he whirled at the man. "Malak," he hissed. "What have you done to her? Damn it!"
Malak laughed. "The angels said she would be my wife. She was promised to me."
"What angels?" Caspian whipped his sword back out and held it before Malak.
Malak glanced at the sword, his laugh stopping short. "I think this is hardly what we need."
Godric climbed to his feet, his wand out.
"It did no good to that poor man back at the hiding place."
His father! Another stab of pain zoomed through Salazar. He wiped at his eyes. Malak. So it was that bastard's fault. He had killed, and then he just wanted to leave Rowena to die.
"Caspian," Heather's voice muttered. "I'm so glad you're here."
Malak turned back to her. "You whore!"
"Don't touch her!" Caspian screamed.
Rowena's eyes fluttered. "Mama?"
"Rowe," Salazar whispered. He ran to her side just as Caspian raised his sword. Godric had not lied. She was like flame to touch.
He didn't watch as the sword, whirring in the air, was brought down. Malak's following scream didn't seem real, anyway.
Rowena. He had never seen anyone so sick. And left all alone in that filthy tunnel with. . . his father. . . Murderers.
"You are angry, no?" Ethelinda asked softly. "You must be very angry about all of this."
Caspian swung again, this time knocking a whimpering Malak to the floor. Blood from his arm oozed over the carpet.
Malak must have killed his father. . .
"How could you not be angry, Snake-Talker?"
"I could kill you!" Caspian raged. "I could kill you right now!"
Heather's sobs were louder than ever.
"I'll bind him," Godric shouted. Ropes shot from the end of his wand, wrapping themselves tightly around Malak.
Caspian stood above him, chest heaving, sword still ready.
He's going to kill him, Salazar thought wildly. Malak was going to die.
"The angels said I'd be protected," Malak said through his tears. "They said I'd be protected. . ."
"Silence!" Caspian kicked him hard in the face, leaving the nose broken.
"He's helpless," Godric protested. "You can't do that when he's tied. . ."
Caspian ignored him. He bent over the bed, gathering up Heather. Her bare arms hung loosely around his neck, too weak to grasp anything. Her heavy dress was slashed. . . Salazar tried not to look; that wasn't proper.
Malak.. .
Rowena whimpered again, and Salazar held her tighter. She was so little. . .
"Let's go," Caspian said softly. He glanced down at Malak, who sniveled and shrank back.
"Don't," Godric begged.
Caspian sighed and continued past. "We'll apparate back. Come." His eyes fixed on Salazar. "Can you carry her?" He seemed to regret his words. "I'm sorry, I just can't. . ."
Salazar nodded. "She's not heavy."
For a moment Caspian seemed ready to smile. "My sister can take care of her. Of both of them." Then, with a small pop, he vanished.
Godric was still staring at Malak, who still cringed like a pitiful worm. "Salazar," he said after a pause. "Maybe I shouldn't have come."
Salazar couldn't reply.
Godric said nothing else for a long time. The room was silent save for Malak. "We should go now." He apparated.
Salazar was alone. Alone in that horrible room except for Malak. How he hated him. The thought came sudden, bitingly. Yes, he hated him. He heard himself say it aloud.
There seemed to be no color left in Malak's face.
Salazar set Rowena onto the carpet, then walked over to Malak. How tempting it would be to kick him. No wonder Caspian had done so. But that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
Again everything whirled through his mind. His father's body, Rowena, Heather. . . Godric was right. Neither of them should have come. To see all of that. . .
"I have to do something," he said to Ethelinda. "I hate him."
"Pull out your wand," she instructed.
He obeyed, then pointed it at Malak's chest. "What will this do?"
"A little curse you can be sure he will not like."
"Serpents know magic?"
She laughed. "Sometimes we hear wizards say things, do things. We learn. Now, Snake-Talker, think how much you hate this human."
Embarrassingly simple.
"Repeat after me. No, translate to your own tongue."
He stared down at the squirming Malak. His tongue was ready.
Ethelinda hissed her approval. "Avada. Kedavra. In human speech."
He did.