Fablehaven: The Complete Series (155 page)

“You were really hearing voices?” Kendra said.

The voice from the cell continued to implore him. “Help me, Great One, free me.”

“You guys really hear nothing?” Seth checked.

“I’m not sure what this means,” Grandpa said, studying Seth intently, “except that you had better leave this place immediately.”

Seth nodded. “I think you’re right.”

Grandpa blinked. He shot Coulter a worried glance. “Take him upstairs.”

“Right.” Coulter took hold of Seth’s elbow and guided him back toward the blood-red door.

“I will wait,” the voice from the cell promised. “Please.”

Seth pressed his hands over his ears as he exited. He began to hear faint, pleading voices from other cells, so he started humming to himself until he was back in the regular part of the dungeon.

As they walked toward the stairs to the kitchen, Seth uncovered his ears. “What was going on back there? What’s the matter with me?”

Coulter shook his head. “I keep remembering how you were the only one who could see us when we were shades, back when the plague was overcoming Fablehaven.”

“Graulas said that was because of removing the nail to defeat the revenant. I thought once the nail was destroyed and the plague reversed, there wouldn’t be any more shadow creatures left to see.”

Coulter stopped walking. The torch threw strange highlights and shadows across his features. “Whatever explains your condition, if I were in your shoes, I would steer clear of shadowy creatures.”

“Makes sense,” Seth said, trying to keep his voice steady.

* * *

Standing beside Grandpa, Kendra stared at the door through which Coulter and Seth had departed. She felt deeply worried for her brother, but it was hard to tell how much of that concern was a reaction to the dark emotions stirred by the atmosphere of the hall.

“Have you heard of anything like this?” Kendra finally asked.

Grandpa looked at her, his expression suggesting he had momentarily forgotten she was with him. “No. I’m not sure what it means. I know I don’t like it. You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

“Not a word,” Kendra said. “I
feel
plenty. I feel scared and sad and alone. I have to keep reminding myself the emotions are false.”

“We should retrieve the information we need and get out.” Grandpa placed one hand on the sconce and the other on the stone block he had decided contained the clearest vein of silver. “What do I say?”

Kendra read from the journal. “‘Nobody deserves these secrets.’”

Grandpa solemnly repeated the words.

The entire center portion of the wall dissolved in a cloud of dust.

“Look at that,” Grandpa murmured.

“‘Those who came before me were wiser than I am,’” Kendra read, coughing softly.

Again Grandpa repeated the words.

“That second part disarms the traps,” Kendra explained, closing the journal.

Grandpa took a torch from the wall and led the way through the mist of dust. Kendra placed a hand over her nose and lips as she followed, squinting to keep the gritty particles out of her eyes.

After about fifteen feet, the dust cloud ended abruptly. A hall stretched ahead of them. To the left and right stood a final set of iron doors. Kendra tried not to envision what might lurk inside those secret cells.

Grandpa led the way down the hall, eventually descending a flight of two dozen stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, they passed through an archway into a spacious room. The smooth floor, walls, and ceiling were composed of white marble swirled with gray. A stone fountain dominated the center of the chamber. No water flowed, but the basin was full. Diverse objects lined the walls: full suits of armor, upright sarcophagi, ornate jade sculptures, grotesque masks, laden bookshelves, colorful marionettes, statues from various cultures, archaic maps, painted fans, framed scrolls, antique carousel animals, elaborate urns, bouquets of glass flowers, the skull of a triceratops, and a heavy golden gong.

“Many of these items would be priceless museum pieces,” Grandpa remarked, surveying the room, torch held aloft.

“Did Patton bring all of this here?” Kendra wondered.

“He and others before him,” Grandpa said. “I’m most curious about the books.” He approached the nearest bookshelf. “Lots of German and Latin. No English. Some languages I don’t recognize. Some might be fairy dialects.”

“I don’t see any words I recognize,” Kendra said.

Grandpa turned, eyes scanning the room. “The message from Patton is on the ceiling?”

“I’m supposed to use the mirror to read it.”

Footsteps resounded from outside the room, slapping down the stairs. Coulter trotted into view, bearing a torch and Seth’s flashlight. “Would you look at this,” he murmured, shining the flashlight beam around the room.

“We’re looking for a message on the ceiling,” Kendra informed him. “Probably a fairy language written backwards.”

“Watch for elaborate patterns,” Grandpa instructed.

The three of them separated and roamed the room, eyes on the ceiling. Kendra held the flashlight, the others carried torches. With her eyes upward, she stumbled against the edge of the fountain, nearly tumbling into the glassy water of the basin. After almost taking a plunge, she proceeded with greater caution.

Patches of unusual markings decorated several portions of the ceiling. Each time one of them found a suspicious cluster of designs, Kendra stood below the markings and viewed them in the mirror from various angles. After several disappointing attempts, Coulter spotted a particularly elaborate pattern of symbols above the gong. When Kendra viewed the symbols in the mirror, she beheld a lengthy message seemingly inscribed in plain English.

“I’ve got something,” Kendra said.

“What does it say?” Grandpa asked.

Kendra read silently at first.

The Oculus is located at the Rio Branco preserve in Brazil. The caretakers have the key to the vault, which is located near a point called Três Cabeças, where three huge boulders overlook the main river. You will have to climb to reach the entrance.

She recited the words to the others.

“We’re a little late on that one,” Coulter complained.

“There’s more,” Kendra said.

“Read on,” Grandpa prompted.

The Translocator can be found at Obsidian Waste in Australia. The caretakers know the location of the vault. Since the vault is virtually impregnable without the key, I took extra measures to make this artifact more difficult to recover. I hid the key to the vault at Wyrmroost, one of the three dragon sanctuaries closed to human interference. I have a false grave there. Below the headstone you will find a clue to the location. Wyrmroost is inaccessible without a key to the main gate, and is protected by the most potent distracter spell I have ever encountered.

The key to the gate at Wyrmroost is the first horn of a unicorn. I know of only one such horn, and I presented it to the centaurs of Fablehaven. They guard it as their most prized talisman.

“Is that all?” Grandpa asked after Kendra finished relaying the words.

“Yes,” Kendra said.

“Sounds like the best way to keep the Translocator hidden might be to leave it alone,” Coulter grumbled.

“You’re probably right,” Grandpa acknowledged. “Patton created some serious obstacles.”

“What is the Translocator?” Kendra asked.

“The artifact with power over space,” Coulter replied. “Most likely some sort of teleportation device.”

“Read the inscription again,” Grandpa said.

Kendra complied.

Grandpa and Coulter stood in silent contemplation after she finished.

“What does he mean about Wyrmroost being closed to humans?” Kendra asked.

“Four of the dragon sanctuaries are open to human visitors,” Grandpa said. “Few know about them, and fewer would actually take the opportunity to enter one, but those few are generally welcome. The other three sanctuaries are considerably less hospitable.”

“But the three worst ones can’t be totally closed to humans,” Kendra said. “Patton went there.”

“In theory, humans could visit if they managed to get past the gate and secure permission from the caretaker,” Coulter said. “I can’t imagine what unspeakable dangers would await. Dragon sanctuaries make Fablehaven look like a petting zoo.”

“Then I’m with Coulter,” Kendra said. “Even if we recovered the artifact, how could we hope to hide it in a better place?”

“We couldn’t,” Grandpa said. “We now have our information. Let’s go check on your brother.”

Chapter 10

Hotel

Snowflakes flung by shifting gusts silently assailed the attic window. Powdery drifts covered the lower panes. Seth paced the room, bouncing a rubber ball, unable to stop wondering about the ghostly prisoners who spoke only to him. It was tough to decide whether he should be afraid or intrigued.

Seth heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The bedroom door opened and Grandpa entered.

“Did you learn anything about the artifacts?” Seth asked.

“Yes. One message concerned the Oculus. The other discussed an artifact that remains hidden. How are you feeling?”

Seth bounced the ball. “Fine. Weird. I don’t know.”

“Let’s sit down.” Grandpa took a seat on one of the beds. Seth plopped down on the other. “What happened in the dungeon clearly rattled you.”

Seth bounced the ball, tossing it forward with a spin that brought it back to him. “You could say that.”

“Hearing spectral voices strikes me as an experience that would normally excite you.” Grandpa stared at him searchingly.

“It does. I mean, it’s really cool that I could hear them. They offered to serve me, and part of me would love to have a zombie servant. Who wouldn’t? But it felt wrong. Too creepy. Grandpa, what if destroying the revenant made me evil? I don’t fear deadly creatures. I can see invisible shadow people. I hear whispers from your freakiest prisoners.”

“Recognizing dark elements imperceptible to others doesn’t make you evil,” Grandpa said firmly. “Neither does having courage. We all possess different gifts and abilities. How we use those gifts determines who we are.”

“I didn’t feel any fear,” Seth said. “Not the paralyzing kind. The voices were freaky, but I could get used to it. That’s what scares me. The voice kept flattering me, calling me wise and powerful. I don’t want phantoms to admire me! I’m sure it was setting me up for some nasty trick. I don’t know if I can trust myself, Grandpa. I wanted to peek in the cell. If you guys weren’t there, I probably would have!”

“You’ve always been more curious than most,” Grandpa said. “Curiosity doesn’t make you evil. Neither do flattering words from sinister entities. The wraith hoped to use you to get free. Nothing more. The fiend would have said anything to convince you.”

“The worst part is, I really am curious. Sick as it sounds, I’d love to go hear more of what the wraith has to say. Not because I intend to let it out. It’s just interesting. See why I can’t trust myself? I’d go down there because I’m interested, and then that thing would probably find a way to trick me or hypnotize me, and pretty soon Fablehaven would be under attack from evil wraiths.”

“But here you are instead, anticipating the possible dangers,” Grandpa said. “You’re doing what any sane and responsible person should do. Just don’t succumb to your curiosity.”

“Why exactly can I hear them?”

“I honestly don’t know. But I do know that there is a difference between hearing and listening. You can’t always help what you hear. But you can control what holds your interest, what you choose to dwell on.”

Seth tossed the ball up and caught it. “I guess that makes sense. The whole thing still creeps me out.”