Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (44 page)

“As if a braaa trampled me. But the Ravager's gone, and that's the main thing. Did I hurt anybody?”

“You sort of knocked Magister out, but that's not real serious,” answered Cal. “The rest of us are fine.”

The Bloodgrave said nothing, but his mask turned an irritated red, suggesting he didn't much appreciate Cal's humor.

“The gnome was possessed,” said Robin with a shiver, still feeling shaken. “It was a trap. The Ravager let us escape so he could see if we'd brought the White Soul back. He knew we would spot him because of the purple, so he didn't change the gnome's skin. In my case, when Cal suggested we go back to our normal color, he drained the purple from my hands and face. By the way, Cal, how did you guess I was possessed?”

“I wasn't sure, and when your skin turned white again I thought I'd made a mistake. It was only when Tara said she was going to risk her life and you didn't react that I got it.”

As he spoke, the little thief gave Robin a sly look, who turned beet red.

Seeing Robin's embarrassment, Tara decided not to press the matter. No point in making the handsome half-elf feel more awkward, she thought. But she promised herself to have a serious conversation with Cal and maybe extract some vital information from him.

Magister grumbled: “The cursed elf hit my head so hard, I'm not sure I'm in any condition to fight.”

Tara couldn't believe she would ever say what she said next: “Come over here. I'll treat you.”

Magister raised his head and looked at her through his mask, seeming to hesitate.

“Oh, for crying out loud, I'm not going to hurt you!” she cried. “I understand the equation: you + me = dead Ravager. So c'mon, let's do it.”

Magister came over and Tara reached out to him, her hand easily passing through the mask. Her fingers felt a wide forehead sticky with blood. She quickly cast a Healus and pulled her hand back.

Magister moved his head cautiously.

“That's perfect, Miss,” he said approvingly. “I feel much better.”

“It was a deep gash,” said Tara, bending down to wash her hand in a small pond. “You better take it easy for a while.”

“In that case, I'll leave you the task of raising the first shield,” he suggested. He was moving slowly, so as not to revive a killer migraine.

Cal drew a rough sketch of the island and its surroundings.

“Robin and I will take the east shore of the lake,” he said. “The vampyrs can take the west. The rosebushes are thickest in the north, so you should be out of sight until you're above the water. With a little luck the tentacles will be too busy fighting us to realize that you're attacking at the same time.”

Tara carefully studied the sketch.

“That's fine,” she said. “We'll ride Gallant, which will save us having to cast a levitation spell. He's able to carry us for as long as an hour, so a few minutes won't be anything for him.”

“In that case, we're all set,” said Magister.

They climbed onto the pegasus, who didn't flinch under the double weight. Master Dragosh shifted into wolf shape and called his pack. The vampyr wolves appeared in a few minutes. Half of them had gone back to Krasalvia to warn of the danger they faced, but there were still a dozen left—plenty for a diversion. Five of these shifted into bats. They agreed that the signal for the attack would be a wolf howl, and silently disappeared. The half-elf and the little thief left just as quietly. Soon only Magister, Tara, and Gallant were left.

“Your friends are very loyal,” observed the Bloodgrave.

Great! Now he wants to talk. Tara was so afraid of Magister that she was struggling not to throw up, and he was feeling chatty. Super.

“Of course they are,” she answered distractedly, praying that he would shut up. “They're friends.”

Magister seemed to have trouble grasping the concept. “They're drawn to your power. That's why they're loyal to you.”

For a moment, Tara wandered if the Bloodgrave was a complete idiot, or just pretending.

“No. I'd do the same thing for any of them. Wouldn't you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If one of your friends was in danger and needed your help, wouldn't you risk your life for them?”

“If it served my purposes, of course I would,” he answered arrogantly.

Tara sighed. “No, I mean if you weren't getting anything out of it. You just help them, that's all.”

Magister mulled this over.

“No,” he admitted. “In that case I'd have no reason to risk my life.”

“That's the main difference between you and me,” Tara concluded. “I don't help people because I expect something in return. I help my friends because I love them. And love is a lot more powerful than greed.”

“And you don't love me.”

“Not in the least!” she exclaimed. “Why would I? You killed my father and you kidnapped my mother. You robbed me of ten years of life with her. Besides, you've been trying to kidnap me just to get your hands on a few powerful objects. You already have power. What more do you want?”

“I want to get rid of the dragons,” he shot back. “And I won't be able to fight them until I have supreme power.”

This came as a surprise. It had never occurred to Tara that Magister might want to seize demonic power for a specific reason.

“What have the dragons ever done to you that you should ally yourself with the demons to destroy them?” Tara asked.

“I have no intention of allying myself with demons,” he said scornfully. “Once the demonic objects are in my possession, I'll seal the rift forever, and no demon will ever be able to enter our universe. That's what Demiderus should've done.”

“But what about your hatred of the dragons?” Tara insisted. “Where does that come from? To me, they seem pretty benevolent toward the peoples of OtherWorld.”

“They control us!” said Magister sharply. “There's no reason for humans to be controlled and directed by overgrown lizards, supposedly because of a battle between them and the demons. We're powerful. We don't need them!”

Tara didn't quite agree. “But the dragons saved our race, didn't they? I heard the demons had already invaded Earth when the dragons intervened.”

“That's actually not clear. The archives don't spell out exactly whether the demons or the dragons invaded Earth first. It's commonly believed that it was the demons, but maybe history was rewritten by the winners.”

“But the dragons are peaceful, and they don't enslave people, the way the demons do.” She paused. “For the sake of argument, let's say that the dragons exercise some control over the peoples of OtherWorld and Earth. So what? Everyone here seems pretty happy. People are free, and the dragons don't ask for anything. In fact, aside from Master Chem, I don't know that there are dragons on the other nations' High Councils.”

“Except for Omois, and among the dwarves and the giants, there are dragons everywhere,” said Magister bitterly.

Tara was about to ask another question when they suddenly heard a wolf howl.

“Let's go,” she whispered.

Tara activated the shield and cast a spell that combined a Protectus with the Camouflagus Cal had used, making them completely invisible. From the outside it looked as if a giant hand had erased the pegasus and its two riders.

Gallant took off, and within a few seconds they were over the lake-shore.

The battle was raging. The vampyrs had borrowed the Mud Eaters' rafts, crude craft that they used to harvest the lake's blue water lilies, whose root was a favorite food. The rafts had been launched, and a magic spell had peopled them with dark figures, one of whom was holding a white statuette! It was a very clever ploy. The tentacles immediately attacked the rafts, while carefully avoiding the one carrying the fake statuette. Meanwhile, Robin and Cal had done the same on the other side of the lake, and the tentacles didn't know which way to turn.

There was a lot of noise, splashing, and screams.

As a result, Tara, Magister, and Gallant flew over the lake and were able to reach the island's north shore undetected.

Magister took the White Soul from his pocket.

“We'll be over the center of the island in a minute,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” answered Tara. “As long as the tentacles don't touch the shield I can maintain it almost indefinitely.”

Eventually, though, they were detected, but it was completely by accident. One of the tentacles was racing toward the attackers when it bumped into the cloaked bubble. The Ravager immediately realized that an invisible enemy had infiltrated his lines and gotten terribly close to the middle of the island.

A dozen tentacles immediately fastened onto the shield, and Tara began to struggle. She was joined by the living stone and its enormous power and this fried the tentacles like hot dogs on a grill, and they fell away. Gallant forged ahead, beating his wings with all his might. Then new tentacles gripped the shield and the struggle began again.

Tara and Magister had underestimated the Ravager's power. The tentacles were immobilizing them. They were inching ahead when Tara felt her shield about to collapse under the strain.

“Now!” she screamed.

Magister immediately created a shield a little smaller than the first, just in time. Tara's shield collapsed and the victorious tentacles closed in . . . only to slam into the second shield.

They clearly heard the Ravager's scream of fury.

Tara, who had stopped breathing in the thick of the struggle, began again. Magister seemed to be blocking the tentacles' attacks easily, but looking at his clenched hands and tense body, Tara knew he was actually struggling.

Gaining ground inch by inch despite the tentacles, they finally flew above the center of the island.

The blackish magma that filled the pit had doubled in volume. It was now blistered like some horrible boil oozing black, nauseating pus.

“Your turn, Tara!” Magister suddenly cried.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, Tara took over. By now, the tentacles had gone berserk and were sucking her power with all their might. It was an accomplishment just to hover over the pit.

“So, what do we do now?” asked Tara, gritting her teeth with the strain.

“Drop the shield! Now!”

Without thinking, Tara obeyed and Magister dove headlong toward the tentacles, which immediately reached for him. Screaming in horror, Tara instantly raised her shield again, in the process lopping off the tentacles stuck to Gallant. As she desperately strained to see what was happening in the furious bubbling around Magister's almost inert body, Tara could feel tears of despair running down her cheeks.

Now completely powerless, the Bloodgrave had stopped moving. They had lost.

Gallant, who was beating his wings furiously, gave a piercing whinny. They couldn't give up now! But the tentacles had surrounded them and were sucking Tara's power. She could feel her strength ebbing. If she'd been alone, she probably would've succumbed under their number. But the need to save her pegasus was stronger than her fear and her pain, and she reinforced her shield.

In the center of the blackish pit, Magister's body was gradually sinking out of sight.

Suddenly he waved, like a dying man in a final spasm, and Tara started.

His arm was holding something. Something shaped like a statuette!

The panicked tentacles tried to get clear, but it was too late. Magister firmly pressed the statuette into the magma.

And the White Soul made contact with the Ravager.

Amid something like an explosion of light, the Ravager's scream of pain practically shattered their eardrums.

With incredible speed, the tentacles turned white, and so did the roiling magma pit. The change spread outward to the entire island, and the black roses became white as well.

The tentacles surrounding Tara faded to white, then disappeared. The white magma sloshed furiously and for a moment Tara thought the Ravager had managed to resist the White Soul's power. Then, to her disbelief, the magma condensed into two pale clouds that gradually took human shape.

Tara cursed. Instead of a single Ravager, now there were two of them! Determined to fight, she gritted her teeth and reinforced her shield again. To her alarm, though, the two translucent shapes suddenly soared out of the center of the island. One had taken the form of a beautiful young woman, the other a stocky spellbinder with a somber gaze. They came to stand in front of Tara.

“Are you responsible for this?” growled the spellbinder figure.

Tara hesitated for an instant, then answered curtly: “Yes, and I'm prepared to fight you—”

The spellbinder interrupted her: “You have our deepest thanks, Miss. You've just accomplished what Demiderus undertook thousands of years ago. I never realized what he was up to, but now I understand. And I regret all the harm I've done.”

Tara was wide-eyed for a moment. Then it dawned on her. “You're Drexus, right? And the White Soul is—”

“Deselea, my beloved wife. Demiderus was forced to kill my wife and our children during the battle against the demons. To counter his horrible but unavoidable action, he spent years trying to find a way to reunite us. The White Soul wasn't a weapon against me. It was my salvation!”

“You've always been so stubborn,” said Deselea sweetly. “I tried to communicate with you during all the time I was held by the Mud Eaters, but you weren't listening!”

“I . . . I know. My hate and my thirst for vengeance were too great. Let's leave now. I don't want to remain in a place that has seen so much pain and sadness. Let's go find the children.”

Under Tara's and Gallant's shocked eyes, the two figures joined in a sparkling whirlwind and disappeared.

She was speechless. What? All that pain, all those deaths, all that destruction and fear, all that for . . . nothing? Just a thanks and goodbye! She felt her anger rising, as great as the terror she had just experienced.