Fablehaven: The Complete Series (113 page)

With Hugo lolloping tirelessly in front of the cart, they traveled down the road toward where the Forgotten Chapel once stood, then took several other paths, until they ended up on a rugged, overgrown track that Seth had never traveled. The cart bounced and jolted over the uneven lane, until Tanu and Coulter waved them to a halt.

Grandpa switched on his flashlight, revealing a gradual, grassy slope that led to a steep hill with a cave in the side. “Tell me they aren’t pointing at the cave,” Grandpa said.

“Yes,” Seth replied. “They already jumped down from the cart.”

“We may as well turn around right now,” Grandpa said. “That is the lair of Graulas, one of the major demons of Fablehaven. To enter his lair would place us in his power. It would be suicide.”

Coulter gestured at the cave, then tapped a shadowy finger against his temple.

“Graulas knows something important,” Seth relayed.

Tanu and Coulter both nodded and motioned for them to follow.

Grandpa leaned close to Seth, speaking for his ears only. “Graulas is arguably the most powerful demon at Fablehaven, although he has hibernated in recent years. He would be the last being to share information with us willingly.”

Tanu pointed at the cave, gave a thumbs-up, opened and closed his free hand like a mouth talking, and pointed to Seth.

“Graulas wants to speak with me?” Seth asked. “Grandpa, they’re both giving me a thumbs-up. This is where they meant to take me. You wait here, and I’ll go see.”

Grandpa gripped Seth’s arm. “I came along to see what they had in mind. If the venture held promise, I would continue. But this is folly. Mendigo and Hugo won’t be able to set foot on his territory. The treaty will offer us no protection. We’re turning back.”

“Okay,” Seth said, slouching against the back of the cart.

Grandpa relaxed his hold on Seth’s arm. “Tanu, Coulter, this is too much to ask. We are going to return.”

Tearing free from Grandpa’s grasp with a sudden lunge, Seth sprang off the cart and started running up the slope toward the mouth of the cave. If Mendigo and Hugo couldn’t follow, then Grandpa couldn’t stop him.

“Mendigo, bring Seth back here!” Grandpa barked.

The wooden puppet vaulted from the cart, rapidly gained on Seth, then came to an abrupt standstill about fifteen paces from the road. Seth continued up the slope, but the puppet could proceed no farther.

Grandpa stood up, fists on his hips. “Seth Andrew Sorenson, you return to this cart this instant!”

Seth glanced back but did not slow. The shadowy Coulter and Tanu jogged along at either side of him. The mouth of the cave drew near.

“Seth, wait,” Grandpa shouted anxiously from down the slope. “I’m coming with you.” Seth did not like the resigned tone in his voice.

Seth paused, watching Grandpa trudge through the tall grass, flashlight in hand. “You can come, but don’t get close enough to touch me.”

Grandpa glared, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “The only thing more alarming than what is in that cave will be your punishment if we somehow survive.”

“If we survive, I’ll have made a good choice.” Seth waited until Grandpa was about ten paces away, then started toward the cave again.

“You realize we are going to our deaths?” Grandpa said grimly.

“Who better to tell us about an evil plague than a demon?” Seth countered.

A tall wooden post stood outside the cave. Rusted iron shackles dangled from the top. Evidently victims had once been chained there. The thought made Seth shiver. The shadows of Tanu and Coulter did not proceed beyond the post. Seth waved for them to follow. They shook their heads and motioned him forward.

The mouth of the cave was large enough to accommodate a school bus. As Seth tromped inside, he realized that worrying about Grandpa stopping him from saving Fablehaven had partly distracted him from properly thinking through whether he should be stopping himself. He hoped that Tanu and Coulter were not enslaved to the will of this demon.

The smooth dirt walls and floor gave Seth the impression that the cave had not formed naturally—it was an excavation. As he continued forward, the cave curved twice and then widened into a single, stuffy room with a domed ceiling through which protruded a few twisted roots.

Rotten, broken furniture mingled with disorderly piles of pale bones. A huge, sagging table bore numerous moldy books and the waxy puddles of melted candles. Ruptured barrels were heaped haphazardly against one wall, leaking rancid contents. Amid a jumble of crushed crates, Seth noticed the glint of jewels.

Against the far, curving wall of the room, cobwebs veiled a huge, hunched shape. The lumpy figure sat on the floor, back to the dirt wall, slumped to one side. Seth glanced over his shoulder at Grandpa. He stood motionless except for the quivering hand clutching the flashlight.

“Shine the light on the thing in the corner,” Seth said. The beam was currently aimed at the cluttered table.

Grandpa offered no response. He did not move.

And then a voice spoke, deeper than any voice Seth had ever imagined, slow and labored, as if on the brink of death. “You . . . do . . . not . . . fear . . . me?”

Seth squinted at the web-shrouded shape in the corner. “Of course I do,” he said, stepping closer. “But my friends said you wanted to speak with me.”

The figure stirred, making the cobwebs ripple and dust plume into the air. “You . . . do not . . . feel . . . fear . . . as you did . . . in . . . the grove?” The speaker sounded sad and tired.

“With the revenant? How do you know about that? I don’t feel fear like I did there. The fear there was uncontrollable.”

The figure shifted again. One of the largest sheets of cobweb tore, billowing lazily. The rumbling voice gained a little strength. “Your grandsire . . . is in the grip of such fear now. Take . . . his light . . . and come closer.”

Seth walked over to Grandpa, who had yet to move. Seth poked him gently in the ribs, but got only a slight twitch as a reaction. Why was Grandpa so incapacitated? Was Graulas directing magic specifically at him? A devious part of Seth’s mind wished that Grandpa would remain like this, so he wouldn’t get in trouble if they made it out alive. Seth yanked the flashlight from his grasp.

“Will Grandpa be all right?” Seth asked.

“He will.”

“You’re Graulas?”

“I am. Come closer.”

Picking his way through the decaying debris, Seth drew nearer to the demon. With one thick, gnarled hand, the demon was peeling away cobwebs. Dust fumed up from his clothes. Gagging, Seth covered his nose and mouth against the putrid stench. Although the demon was sitting on the floor and hunched to one side, Seth came no higher than his bloated shoulder.

Seth took an involuntary step back when the flashlight illuminated the demon’s face. His skin was like the head of a turkey, red and folded and droopy, as if horribly infected. He was bald, and he had no visible ears. A pair of curled ram horns projected from the sides of his broad skull, and a milky film clouded his cold, black eyes.

“Would you believe . . . I was once . . . one of the six . . . most feared . . . and respected . . . demons . . . in the world?” he asked, his breathing labored. His entire body rocked with the effort of each wheezing inhalation.

“Sure,” Seth said.

The demon shook his saggy head, folds of red flesh swaying. “Do not patronize me.”

“I’m not. I believe you.”

Graulas coughed. Webs flapped and dust swirled. “Nothing . . . has caught my interest . . . in hundreds of years,” he growled wearily. He closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, and his voice became steadier. “I came to this pitiful zoo to die, Seth, but dying comes slowly for my kind, so very slowly. Hunger cannot conquer me. Disease is no match. I slumber, but I do not rest.”

“Why did you come here to die?” Seth asked.

“To embrace my fate. I have known true greatness, Seth. To fall from greatness, from the dizziest heights to the deepest depths, knowing one might have prevented it, certain one will never reclaim what one has lost, cripples the will. Life holds no more meaning than one chooses to impose, and I quit pretending long ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said. “You have a big spider on your arm.”

“No matter,” the demon wheezed. “I did not summon you here to pity my condition. As dormant as I have become, I cannot submerge all of my gifts. Without conscious effort, without tools or spells, this preserve is open to my scrutiny, all save a few select locations. I dread the futile monotony of all that is out there and endeavor to ignore it, to turn inward, and even so I cannot help perceiving much that transpires. Nothing has intrigued me . . . until you.” Graulas opened his filmy eyes.

“Me?”

“Your courage in the grove surprised me. Surprise is a reaction I had all but forgotten. I have seen enough that I always know what to expect. I assess the odds of various outcomes, and my predictions are never thwarted. Before you were finished confronting the revenant, the potion failed. I saw the artificial bravado leave you. Your demise was certain. Yet, despite my certainty, you removed the nail. Had you been full-grown, a seasoned hero of legendary renown, well-trained, armed with charms and talismans, I would have been deeply impressed. But for a mere boy to perform such a feat? I was truly surprised.”

Seth was unsure what to say. He watched the demon and waited.

Graulas leaned forward. “You wonder why I brought you here.”

“To find out what I taste like?”

The demon regarded him morosely. “I brought you here to thank you for my first surprise in centuries.”

“You’re welcome.”

The demon shook his head slightly. Or had only his eyes moved? “I intend to thank you by bestowing what you currently need. Knowledge. It will probably not save you, but who can say? Perhaps you will amaze me again. Based on your performance in the grove, it might be poor judgment to consider you incapable of anything. Sit down.”

Seth squatted on a corroded, overturned bookcase.

“The revenant was nothing without the nail,” Graulas rasped. “A feeble being fortified by a talisman of tremendous dark power. Your friends should have striven more earnestly to recover it.”

“Tanu searched for it for hours,” Seth said. “He finally decided it must have been destroyed when I pulled it out.”

“A talisman of such potency is not easily unmade. By the time your friend started looking, he was too late.”

“What happened to it?”

“First consider what happened to you. Why do you suppose that only you can discern the shades of your friends?”

“Did the nail do that to me?”

Graulas leaned back and closed his eyes, a pained expression flashing across his revolting features, as if he was coping with a sudden surge of agony. After a moment, he spoke, dark eyes still squeezed shut. “The talisman left its mark on you. Be glad you did not touch the nail with your flesh, or it would have taken possession of you. You have been enabled to see certain dark properties that are invisible to most eyes. And you have acquired an immunity to magical fear.”

“Really?”

“My presence inspires a paralyzing horror in humans, similar to the aura that surrounded the revenant. Exuding terror is part of my nature. Look to your grandsire if you harbor any doubt.”

Seth stood up, shaking his arms and flexing his fingers. “I really don’t feel scared. I mean, I’m worried that you might be tricking me, and that you might kill me and Grandpa, but I don’t feel petrified like with the revenant.”

“This sight you have been endowed with might help you locate the source of the magic transforming the creatures of Fablehaven,” Graulas said. “Your darkened friends remain reliable. For such fragile creatures, humans sometimes have surprising strengths. One is self-possession. The same magic that has altered the creatures of Fablehaven has failed to overthrow the minds of Coulter and Tanugatoa.”

“Good to know,” Seth said.

Graulas paused, eyes still shut, his breathing loud. “Would you care for my insights on how the current trouble at Fablehaven originated?”

“Did it have something to do with the prisoner the Sphinx released?”

Graulas opened his eyes. “Very good. Do you happen to know the identity of the captive?”

“So the Sphinx really is a traitor?” Seth exclaimed. “No, none of us know who the prisoner was. Do you?”

Graulas licked his lips, his tongue a bruised color and marked by sores. “His presence was unmistakable, although most would not have been able to sense his true identity. He was Navarog, the demon prince, lord of the dragons.”

“The prisoner was a dragon?”

“The foremost of all dark dragons.”

“He looked human-sized.”

“He was in disguise, naturally. Many dragons can assume a human form when it suits them. Navarog did not revert to his true shape while on this property. His business at Fablehaven was of a stealthier nature.”