Keys to the Demon Prison

Page 14

"I might have invited her when I used it," Kendra replied.
"You used the Oculus?" Patton exclaimed.
Kendra explained about getting kidnapped by Torina and being forced by the Sphinx to use the Oculus. She told how the Fairy Queen helped her break free from the hold the Oculus had on her mind.
"I see," Patton said. "Through you, as you willingly reached out to her, the Fairy Queen found a link to the Oculus. If she has preserved that link, she may have new information about the Sphinx. You must follow up on this."
"We will," Grandpa promised.
Patton nodded. "Let's discuss priorities. As I mentioned before, your first priority is to retain the artifacts you have. The Society cannot succeed without them. Second priority is to get the Oculus away from the Sphinx. Until that happens, destruction will constantly loom. My hunch is that if you find Seth and his folks, you'll find the Sphinx and the Oculus. Use the possible leads we discussed, especially Vanessa. You may want to task some of the Knights with locating and protecting the Eternals. No small assignment, but worth the effort. Since stealth no longer provides the protection that the Eternals expect, you must alert them that an enemy has the Oculus and try to direct them to safety."
Grandpa rubbed his mouth and chin, lost in thought. Raising his eyebrows, he locked eyes with Patton. "I wish we had a man like you in our time."
"You've done great work, Stan," Patton said tenderly. "You have surrounded yourself with more quality people than I've ever encountered." He switched his gaze to Warren. "I would not be surprised to learn that many of you surpass my accomplishments. Let's face it, Stan, you are dealing with greater challenges than I ever had to weather." He gave a perturbed smile. "Most of my hardships were self-inflicted."
"Speaking of quality people," Kendra said, "is Lena around?"
"Lena is fantastic," Patton replied. "More radiant than ever. How she can fake affection for an old bag of bones like me defies explanation. She is downstairs as we speak, with strict instructions not to disturb me. She has learned to indulge my senile whims."
"We can't see her?" Kendra asked.
"No, because time travel is rare, dangerous magic," Patton said. "I have no reason to believe Lena ever laid eyes on you until the day you first came to Fablehaven. In theory, I don't believe a time machine can really alter the past. I believe that anyone who tries will just discover that whatever actions they take were already part of the past. But I'm also not sure the wizards who designed the Chronometer fully understood the powers they were tampering with. I doubt paradoxes could be created, but I'm not eager to take any risks. As much as you all would enjoy seeing Lena, she knows none of you yet. She will, in due time. Perhaps it would be best to leave it that way."
"If the Chronometer can't change the past, what's the point?" Kendra asked.
"We know the Chronometer can affect the present," Patton said. "Your present. Like when I visited you during the shadow plague. And like I am trying to do now, by sharing information. The Chronometer can also make use of the past to affect the future. For those who wish to access Zzyzx, it is a necessary tool."
"You're starting to break my brain," Warren said.
Patton chuckled. "Mine too." His face took on a wistful expression, his eyes moistening. "I wish I could have done more, somehow averted all of this. I spent my life trying. I honestly gave it my best."
"You did more than we could have hoped or imagined," Grandma said, laying a hand on his.
Patton winked at Grandpa. "You married a good one."
"Course I did. She's a Burgess."
Patton pulled out his pocket watch and his monocle. "Time has a way of slipping by. You should have a few minutes still, but it might not hurt for you to move toward your original positions. You remember the latitude and longitude of Zzyzx?"
Coulter repeated the coordinates. Kendra went and stood where she had been when she had crossed into this time period. The others did likewise.
"Anything else you want to review?" Patton asked.
"We may visit you again," Coulter said. "If we want to come again, I'd give knob C-5 a three-quarter turn."
"You got it," Patton said. "I should have had Lena make refreshments. I did that for the first few years I waited for you. I guess I started to believe I might really make it to a hundred."
"It was good to see you," Kendra said, trying to keep from choking up. Her emotions were a mess lately.
Patton rocked himself to his feet, came over, and gave her a hug. "That brother of yours will be fine. Don't be surprised if he shows up on your doorstep with the Oculus in his hip pocket."
Kendra hugged Patton back. He felt bony.
"Not too tight," Patton laughed. "I've gotten brittle. I'm glad I got to see all of you again. Sorry it took the end of the world to provoke a reunion."
Warren and Coulter chuckled bitterly.
"Do something nice to Lena for me," Kendra said.
"I'll think of something special," Patton promised, stepping away.
"Thanks, Patton," Grandma said.
"My pleasure, Ruth."
They stood in silence. Kendra hated the tension, waiting for Patton to be gone. Part of her wanted to stay, to somehow hide from all the heartache waiting back in the present.
"Seth is going to be mad he missed this," Kendra said. "Send him my very best," Patton said. "I think he--"
All the breath went out of Kendra. The robe was gone, her clothes were back, and she was doubled over, trying to breathe. Once again, Grandpa, Grandma, and Coulter had fallen down.
"Are you all right?" Tanu asked. "What happened? Did it work?"
Warren got his breath back first. "We spoke with Patton for half an hour."
Tanu shook his head, helping Grandma up. "You guys didn't even flicker. Coulter flipped the switch, and you all crumpled like somebody slugged you in the gut. Was it productive?"
Grandpa gave a curt nod. "We have work to do."
Chapter 8 Bracken
Seth sat on the rickety cot in his gloomy cell, watching faint torchlight flicker through the barred peephole in the door. On the far side of the stone enclosure, water dripped with the regularity of a metronome, forming a puddle that slowly seeped into the cracks of the floor, perhaps to drip down to a deeper cell. Beside him sat the latest meal, a brick of tough meat, a wedge of moldy cheese, and a greasy mound of purple mush. He had gnawed at the scabby meat, unsure what he was eating. The stinky cheese had a sharp flavor. He had failed to convince himself that the mold was supposed to be there. The purple pulp had not tasted bad, almost sweet, but the texture was unbearably stringy, as if long, coarse hairs had been a deliberate ingredient.
This was not the dungeon at Fablehaven. This was the real thing. They had marched him along dank passageways, down crumbling stairs, and through a series of guarded iron doors. The smells were earthy and old, pungent odors of rot, mildew, filth, and stone. The wooden door to his cell was five or six inches thick. Meals arrived on woven mats through a slot at the bottom. A new meal did not come unless he made the previous mat accessible.
From time to time the echoes of distant screams interrupted the monotonous dripping. Less often, a deep voice would croak sad songs about the sea. Occasionally he would hear footfalls and see a torch pass by his peephole, the direct firelight seeming very bright.
Seth had not seen another person since he was locked in his cell. He longed for a conversation. How many days had it been? Several meals. He wondered how many times a day he received food.
Climbing off the cot, Seth crawled across the rough stone floor to the flimsy pan of water near the door. Without a cup, he had to drink on all fours like a dog. The pan was so broad that lifting it meant he would almost certainly spill, and he only got a refill with each meal. He had discovered that puckering his lips and sucking worked best. The water tasted flat and gritty, but it was wet and, together with whatever food he could stomach, would hopefully keep him alive.
Seth visited the small hole in the front left corner of his cell. The smell rising from it made him want to retch. After a brief hesitation, he decided to relieve himself later.
Alone with his thoughts, he returned to his cot. He wondered if the Sphinx had truly convinced himself that opening Zzyzx was a good thing. It had to be an excuse he gave to others. Nobody could really believe something so insane.
Seth wondered about his family. His parents might be imprisoned in this same dungeon. Judging by the many halls he had passed and the several levels he had descended on his way to his cell, the dungeon was immense. He tried to imagine the deepest cell, where Nagi Luna still lurked.
He tried not to imagine getting rescued. What were the chances that Kendra or Grandpa or anyone would ever find this place? People had been looking for the fifth preserve for hundreds of years. A rescue was highly unlikely. He would do better simply to hope that the others would not be captured as well.
How long would this cell be his home? It really might be for the rest of his life. Then again, if the Sphinx opened Zzyzx, the rest of his life might not be very long.
He picked up the brick of meat, nibbling at a salty corner. Would he learn to tolerate this food? Look forward to it?
Seth wondered if he could convince the Sphinx he wanted to be his apprentice. If he served him, eventually he might find a chance to escape, maybe even swipe an artifact or two. It would be worth a try, although the Sphinx seemed too clever to be conned that way.
The creepiness of his surroundings was his only defense against boredom. Over time, as worry and fear distracted him less, his boredom grew. Yes, the cell was miserable, but he was getting used to it. He wondered if eventually he might actually die of boredom.
A rumble from behind startled him. This was new! From the back wall of his cell came the low, heavy grating of stone grinding against stone. A portion of the wall slid open, and a mellow white light shed soft luminance into the room. A young man stepped through the opening, holding the white light in his hand.
Seth picked up the brick of meat, the closest thing he had to a weapon. The intruder froze in the doorway, a hand held up defensively. "Please, don't assault me with that meat amalgam," the stranger said. "It would surely cause an infection."
Seth lowered the mystery meat. The young man wore ragged clothing. Improvised moccasins covered his dirty feet. The white light in his hand was clearly magical, some kind of glowing stone. The illumination gave his grime-streaked skin a pearly sheen. Tall and lean, he had silver-white hair down to his shoulders and a handsome, open face.
"Who are you?" Seth asked.
"A fellow prisoner," the young man answered. Seth estimated he was around eighteen. "May I come in?"
Seth considered the stranger. What kind of prison had secret passages that allowed inmates to visit each other? This guy had to be an enemy sent by the Sphinx to squeeze information out of him. Still, at the moment, Seth would be willing to talk with just about anyone. Anything to relieve the loneliness. "Sure, I guess."
Turning, the young man retrieved a small three-legged stool from the corridor. He brought it into the cell and sat down. "Welcome to Living Mirage."
"Am I really supposed to believe you're another prisoner?" Seth said.
"I don't blame you for doubting," the young man said. "I have a similar concern about you. I'm Bracken."
"Seth."
"They stashed you down deep. That means either you're dangerous and they're done with you for the foreseeable future, or else you're a spy."
Seth fidgeted with the brick of meat, turning it in his hands. "And how am I supposed to know you're not a spy? What sort of prison has secret passages between cells?"
"This dungeon is old," Bracken said. "It has been expanded and rebuilt so many times that nobody knows all the half-buried corridors and sealed-up chambers. Centuries of tunneling prisoners have added to the abandoned shafts and forgotten cavities. I helped excavate some of these passages personally, but most existed long before I came here. Nothing leads out, mind you. Not even close. But we've connected many of the deep rooms."
"Nobody has caught on?" Seth said incredulously.
"We're not fooling anybody," Bracken replied. "If we're really obvious about our activities, they seal up some of our excavations and administer punishments, but later we chip our way through again. Our tunneling is relatively harmless, and it keeps us occupied, so if we stay quiet about it, our captors mostly look the other way."
"You talk like you've been here a long time," Seth said. "How old are you? Like seventeen?"
Bracken gave a wry smile. "I'm a tad older than I look. You would weep for me if you knew how long I'd been here."
"So when are you going to start investigating my secrets?"
"Still don't trust me? At least you're not stupid."
"Don't give me too much credit. I'm here, aren't I?"
Bracken studied him shrewdly. "Yes, you are here. And you are clearly a shadow charmer, which makes you such an obvious spy that I wonder why the Sphinx would bother."
"How can you tell I'm a shadow charmer?"
"I can tell more than that," Bracken said, moving the stool closer to the cot. "Mind if I conduct a little test?"
"Depends on the test."
"Nothing painful," Bracken assured him. He tossed the glowing rock onto the cot. "Just take my hands." He held them out, palms up.
"This is weird," Seth said, keeping his hands in his lap.