Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (42 page)

“Ooooh! That feels so good!” said Tara, wiping away her tears.

Robin and Cal nodded in agreement. They were still in prison, and they were still threatened with a horrible fate, but they felt a lot better in that moment.

The soreness in Tara's neck brought her back to reality, though. She fingered her throat gingerly and swallowed.

“Why the heck is everybody always trying to strangle me? First the Ravager, and now Angelica. What have I done to her now?”

“Who knows?” said Cal, shrugging. “When I reverted to my normal shape she first screamed with surprise, and then she got angry. She muttered something like, ‘It's her! It's another of her tricks! I'm gonna kill her!' Then the guards grabbed me while Angelica raced off to the prison, head down like an angry brrraaa. You know the rest.”

“Angelica must have suspected you didn't have enough power to change your appearance that much,” he said. “She figured that Tara was the only one of us able to turn you into an Adonis.”

“I'm sorry, Tara,” said Cal with a chuckle. “If your spell had lasted just a few more minutes, I would've knocked her out and come to free you.”

Tara was about to warn him not to reveal too many details in the presence of the black smoke when she looked around in surprise.

“That's weird; the Ravager's smoke is gone!”

She was right. They could still hear the guards pacing like watchful zombies, but the terrifying smoke had disappeared.

“So much the better,” said the queen with a shudder. “Those horrible tentacles kept probing us, trying to possess us. And the less they succeeded, the harder they tried.”

“Do you have any idea why the Ravager wasn't able to overcome you, Your Majesty?” asked Robin.

“No,” sighed the king. “By the time we were aware of the danger, it was too late. We fought back, Titania and I, but without result. His tentacles seemed to suck our power, even though they couldn't possess us. And we're not the only ones. Salatar and Lady Kalibris were able to resist too. We think they managed to escape.”

“We ought to take advantage of the smoke's disappearing to do the same,” said Cal soberly. “I was able to walk around the castle a little before getting to Angelica's rooms. It wasn't a pretty sight.”

Tara chose not to ask for details.

“Before Angelica decided to strangle me,” she said, “I was wondering if dragon fire could melt these bars.”

“Afraid not,” said Cal. “They're forged of magical iron, which makes them immune to magic, but they've also been surrounded by a protection spell. The only thing you'd melt would be yourself. The way the spell works, any violence done to the bars bounces back against the attacker.”

“The prison's very well protected,” remarked the king approvingly.

“Darling, for once I wish Salatar had been a little less efficient,” said the queen. “What are we going to do?”

“You? You aren't going to do a thing,” said a voice like liquid velvet. “We, on the other hand, are going to set you free.”

Emerging from the darkness like a masked demon was Magister.

Tara reacted without thinking, firing a Destructus at the figure in black.

“Tara, no!” screamed Cal.

The spell had barely touched the bars when it ricocheted back at her. Warned by Cal's shout, she barely had enough time to erect a protective shield.

Magister hadn't stirred.

“Tut, tut, tut!” he said, shaking his head. “What impetuousness! What anger! And here I was coming to save you. That wasn't a very nice welcome.”

For a moment, Tara was speechless. Then she exploded.

“I'd rather be possessed by the Ravager!” she screamed. “How did you find me? I'm warning you, I'm not gonna let you manipulate me so you can appropriate the evil power of the demonic objects—even if it's to use them against him!”

Magister was silent for a moment, then his mask turned blue. Tara knew this meant the Bloodgrave was amused, which made her even angrier.

“That's an excellent idea, Miss Duncan. I admit it hadn't occurred to me. And we found you thanks to a simple locator spell. In fact the only reason for our presence was to bring you . . . this!”

With a magician's sweep of his arm, he revealed the White Soul!

Cal ran over to the bars.

“How in the world—”

“I brought it to him,” interrupted Master Dragosh, materializing like a silent shadow behind Magister.

“Everything's set,” said the vampyr, pointing at the stairs. “The guards have all been knocked out, and I took their keys. Let's go!”

“Very well, let's free them,” said Magister.

But just as Dragosh was about to unlock the cells, Magister said, “Wait a second!” Turning to Tara, he said, “I want your word that you won't try anything against me while we're fighting the Ravager together.”

Tara could hardly believe her ears. Is Magister offering to be my ally?

Cal and Robin were just as surprised, and Master Dragosh enlightened them in a bitter tone.

“I didn't have any choice,” he explained. “This Bloodgrave is the only person able to fight the Ravager. So I sent him a message by way of one of his acolytes. We retrieved the White Soul and also these.”

In his hand, glittering with a thousand points of light, was Tara's bracelet and the living stone!

Tara was overjoyed to see her luminous friend again.

Living stone,
she asked mentally,
how do you feel?

Tara, pretty Tara, nice Tara! Was afraid, very afraid. But vampyr swim and pick up. Whee! Back with Tara!

What the living stone didn't say was how completely lost she'd felt when the Ravager tore her away from Tara. Falling into the water, she'd almost accepted that the lake would be her tomb forever. Sensing her friend's anxiety, Tara tried to comfort her.

She then gave the vampyr one of her famous smiles, and he reeled a little under its impact.

“Thank you,” she breathed gratefully. Then she turned to Magister.

“Very well, I agree to a truce,” she said curtly. “But at the slightest sign of sneakiness on your part, I'll send you to join your ancestors. Got that?”

Magister nodded and his mask turned red. He clearly didn't like threats, but that was just too bad.

The left corner of the vampyr's lip curled—his version of a smile. He didn't like Magister very much either. In fact, he had much more cause to hate him than Tara did. Proposing an alliance to the Blood-grave had been the worst moment of Dragosh's existence.

“We better get out of here fast,” he announced. “The Ravager will soon start to sense our presence.”

The king, queen, Tara, and her friends were the only prisoners, so it didn't take long to open the cells. They used the Living Castle's tunnels to reach the hidden exit. The castle's spirit, or soul, or whatever served as its brain and gave it consciousness, had escaped possession. It projected scenes of crowds silently applauding along their way, to wish them good luck and to give them courage.

Once outside, they were still far from safe. Many of Travia's inhabitants were under the Ravager's spell, and the few who weren't kept a low profile and stayed out of sight. Tara and her friends did the same. Gallant scouted ahead and let them know when it was safe to move.

Tara observed Magister closely, straining to figure out who he really was. There was something in the Bloodgrave's current attitude she found unsettling, but what? Suddenly, it became clear. He was afraid! For the first time in a long time he was facing a power much greater than his own. So he actually hadn't only come to free them; he'd come to ask for their help. Perfect.

Magister must have felt Tara's eyes on him, because he abruptly turned around. “Miss Duncan, I would guess that it's taking you quite an effort not to carbonize me, right? Believe me, I'm also fighting the urge to kidnap you. I would take you to my new fortress, since you conquered the old one. Unfortunately, our friend the Ravager would soon get his red claws on it, so I don't think we have any choice. We have to cooperate.”

Tara's eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply. Magister waited a moment for her to answer. When she didn't, he resumed his cautious progression through the town.

Tara smiled to see his back rigid with apprehension. He must imagine I'm cooking up some sort of scheme. Which wasn't entirely wrong.

The gnome embassy seemed completely deserted, but Cal quickly ran into one of the two gnomes who had volunteered to stay behind.

“We have to leave right away,” he said.

The blue gnome bowed. “For what destination, sir?”

“The Gray Fortress, same as before.”

The king and queen spoke: “We'll come with you. You're going to need all the help you can get to fight the Ravager.”

“No,” said Magister shortly. “You have to go to Omois and warn the emperor and empress of what is happening here. Tell them to prepare the planet's defenses against the Ravager.”

Dragosh agreed.

“He's right, Your Majesties” he said. “You will be much more useful to us there.”

“But what if you aren't able to defeat him?” asked the queen anxiously.

Cal couldn't resist. “If everyone around you suddenly starts turning red, it won't be from a sunburn.”

“Cal!” exclaimed Tara.

“What? What did I say now?”

The queen shuddered and hugged the kids tightly. Then the portal transferred the two sovereigns to Omois.

As a precaution, the others colored their skin purple before leaving for the Gray Fortress. Busy with the transformation, they didn't notice what was happening behind them. A tentacle carefully hidden in the gnome's body emerged and touched Robin. The half-elf stiffened very slightly as he fought the possession, then slumped in defeat. As the portal transferred Tara's group, they also didn't notice the gnome turn completely purple and laugh sarcastically.

They rematerialized in the Gray Fortress prepared to do battle, but curiously, there was no one there.

They left the Fortress very easily, again by way of Fafnir's tunnel.

Once they were beyond the walls, Magister spoke.

“Something's odd here,” he said, frowning. “That Transfer Portal is the only one that gives access to the center of the Ravager's power. Why isn't it better guarded?”

Cal shrugged. “Hey, dude, the guy's busy conquering the world. He doesn't have time to worry about some little portal out in the boonies.”

“Sir Dal Salan?”

“Yes?”

“Let's avoid familiarity, if you don't mind. I am Magister, the Blood-grave Master. So ‘Master' or ‘Magister' is fine. ‘Dude' is not.”

Cal grimaced and said nothing.

“What say we make our skin normal again?” suggested Tara, who thought purple looked better on flowers.

“No!” cried Robin.

They turned, surprised by the abruptness of his reaction.

“I mean . . . that's not a good idea. If the Ravager has overcome the Mud Eaters, it's best if they think we've been possessed too. It'll spare us having to fight them.”

They agreed that he had a point.

“How are we going to get close to the island?” asked Tara.

The masked Bloodgrave turned to her, and she repressed an instinctive urge to back away.

“It's not far,” he said. “I've prepared a Transmitus. Kindly stand in a circle, with the familiars in the center. You must all be touching each other, please.”

Magister went to stand between Tara and Cal and took their hands. The glove he wore was so thin that Tara could feel calluses on his palm.

In this world, such calluses were usually the sign of a warrior. Was the Bloodgrave a mercenary? A fighter?

Interesting . . . very interesting. Tara tucked this new clue away in a corner of her mind.

Magister cast his Transmitus. The forest disappeared in a flash of bright light, and the next moment they were in the Swamps of Desolation.

Ko-axes croaked enthusiastically, huge blue-green dragonflies chased yellow flies, lots of the plants looked like insects, and lots of insects looked like plants. The dominant color palette ranged from gray to black to dark black. The air reeked revoltingly of stagnant water, outsized snakes slithered nearby, and glurps quarreled over a chunk of some poor animal who had gotten up too early. In short, they were back in the good old Swamps of Desolation.

It was nighttime, though hardly pitch-black dark. The silvery light from OtherWorld's moons made the landscape almost as bright as day.

The Ravager apparently hadn't yet extended his power to the swamp, because the Mud Eaters were their usual color, a crushed taupe. This is the first time I've almost liked that shade, thought Tara. Just goes to show how tastes can change with circumstances. Right now, she was seriously allergic to anything purple.

Magister pulled the White Soul from his pocket. When he did, Robin shuddered.

Cal noticed, and he frowned. Something very strange was going on. He'd better check on it and fast.

“Your Transmitus is a darned practical transportation system,” he told Magister, stretching. “It would have saved us lot of problems if we'd had it when we escaped from you the last time.”

Magister's mask turned brown. “Don't be so sure, Caliban. The Transmitus doesn't always work right, and the arrivals are, shall we say, fragmentary.”

“Oh, really? You mean people come one after another? That's not so bad!”

“Well, not exactly,” said Bloodgrave. “The pieces arrive one after another.”

It took a moment for Cal to get the picture.

“Yuck!”

“Yes, it can be messy,” said Magister. “That's why I use Transmitus spells very cautiously.”

Cal thought this over for a moment. Then he said, “Anyway, now that we're safe and sound and the Mud Eaters aren't possessed, why don't we go back to our normal colors? I don't much like walking around looking like a yummm.”