Fablehaven: The Complete Series (161 page)

“To what end would you make this observation?” Graymane asked.

“Dark times have befallen the world,” Grandma said with severity. “Sinister forces are gathering talismans to open the great prison Zzyzx and unleash the demons of old.”

“Dire tidings, indeed,” Graymane acknowledged. “Yet how is it our concern?”

“We require the horn to access a key that will enable us to safeguard one of the talismans,” Grandpa said. “If we can protect the talismanic artifacts, we can prevent the prison from opening.”

Graymane shared quiet words with Cloudwing on his right, then Stormbrow on his left. “You would remove the Soul of Grunhold from Fablehaven?”

“We would return it within days,” Grandma said. “We ask no aid except to briefly borrow the horn.”

Graymane slowly shook his head. “Should the demon horde escape Zzyzx, the Soul of Grunhold would be our only defense. We cannot accept the risk. You ask too much.”

“If the demons escape Zzyzx, Grunhold will become a small island in a sea of evil,” Grandpa stressed. “Under assault from the demon horde, the horn will fail and Grunhold will fall. If, however, we prevent the demons from escaping Zzyzx, Grunhold may well endure forever.”

“We cannot send our prized talisman into peril,” Graymane replied. “When you removed the power from the shrine of the Fairy Queen, you destroyed it, leaving her sanctuary irreparably desecrated. My decision stands. Find another method to accomplish your aims. We will not lend you or anyone the Soul of Grunhold.”

“Could we at least look upon the horn?” Grandpa asked. “Another way to protect the talismans that unlock Zzyzx would be to ensure that our enemies will not be able to steal the horn from you. Such assurance is vital.”

Graymane smirked dourly. “You might also appreciate the chance to scout for ways to pilfer the horn yourself.”

“The horn must not be stolen,” Grandma affirmed. “We have no desire to rob you.”

“As you should know, the Soul of Grunhold
cannot
be stolen,” Graymane said. “The first horn of a unicorn can only be found or given. The object radiates such purity that even the most jaded scoundrel would be overwhelmed with enough guilt and remorse at the thought of stealing it to render him incapable of carrying out the robbery.” The imposing centaur gave Grandma a pointed look. “Even if the thief had convinced himself he only meant to borrow it.”

“What if our powerful enemies found a way to circumvent such remorse?” Grandpa inquired. “With your assent, I could station guards.”

“We have guards of our own, the finest inhabiting this preserve,” Graymane stated. “Furthermore, the Soul of Grunhold lies deep inside the hill, at the heart of a Tauran maze.”

“A maze of invisible walls?” Coulter exclaimed.

Graymane nodded. “The same as my kind used anciently. Fatal spells lace the unseen barriers. The intruder who touches any wall will be instantly struck down.”

“Such contact will also raise an alarm,” Stormbrow added.

“Our enemies have proven themselves unbelievably resourceful,” Grandpa worried.

“You still doubt?” Graymane scoffed. “At the heart of the unsolvable maze awaits Udnar the mountain troll as a final redundancy.”

“A mountain troll?” Dale exclaimed. “How did you win his loyalty?”

“We reached an arrangement,” Graymane replied flatly. “It involves copious quantities of food and drink.”

“What about the entrance to the maze?” Grandma asked.

Graymane fell silent, scrutinizing the humans one by one. “The entrance to the great hollow below the hill is sealed. I will refrain from relating the specifics to prevent any of you from imprudently coming to harm.”

“We wouldn’t dare make an attempt for the horn,” Grandpa assured him. “As you say, it would be impossible. You give us reason to hope our enemies would be equally daunted. Perhaps we can locate a first horn through other channels.”

“Wisely spoken,” Graymane said. “Do not forget, any attempt to steal the Soul of Grunhold would mean war with the centaurs. We have our allotted realm, but by treaty we remain free to roam most of the length and breadth of Fablehaven, with the exception of a few private domains. War with the centaurs would mean the end of your preserve.”

“Which is why we traveled here to solicit the favor according to protocol,” Grandma placated.

“It disappoints us that you refuse to lend us the horn,” Grandpa admitted. “Much evil abroad and at home may flow from that decision. Yet we acknowledge it as your decision to make.”

“Then our parley is at an end,” Graymane announced. “Return to your domain in peace.”

“We have it on good authority that our enemies are interested in the horn,” Grandma said. “Stay vigilant.”

Graymane turned his back on them.

“We require no such advice from humans,” Cloudwing clarified. “Permit us to escort you to the borders of our realm.”

“Very well,” Grandpa said, his voice formal. “Farewell, Graymane.”

Kendra followed the others out of the massive stone shelter. She noticed that a cluster of fairies continued to hover nearby, gazing at her curiously. When she showed them prolonged attention, several of the fairies fluttered away, probably in an attempt to appear disinterested. One of the fairies who remained looked familiar. Tinier than most fairies, she had fiery wings shaped like flower petals.

“I know you,” Kendra said.

The other fairies who had remained turned to jealously regard the small red fairy. “Yes,” the fairy chirped, darting closer to Kendra. Rolling their eyes, the other fairies dispersed.

“You were one of the three who helped us when we defeated the shadow plague.”

“Correct. I overheard your conversation with Graymane.”

“Didn’t go so well.” Kendra noticed Stormbrow watching her surreptitiously. She doubted whether he could understand the fairy, but Kendra spoke in plain English. She lowered her voice and resolved to choose her words carefully.

“The centaurs will never part with the horn,” the fairy informed her.

“Can you help us get it?” Kendra whispered, hanging back from the others, eyes on the centaurs.

The tiny fairy gave a light, tinkling laugh. “Not likely. But I do know where you can find the entrance to the maze.”

“Please tell me.”

“Gladly. By the way, if I refused, you could command me to reveal what I know. Just a little tip for the future. Many fairies are unhelpful. The entrance lies beneath the southernmost warding stone.”

“The gigantic one?” Kendra asked, nodding her head toward the tremendous megaliths at the base of the hill.

“Yes,” the fairy answered.

“They look too big to move,” Kendra whispered.

“Much too big,” the fairy agreed, “and bound in place by spells. But two hours before dawn, the stones march. They trade places. Takes them an hour. For that hour of the night, while the stones are marching, the entrance to the maze lies wide open. It is the only time the centaurs can enter.”

“Those humongous stones move by themselves?”

“All twenty of them. It’s quite a sight.”

“Do many centaurs go into the maze?”

“Not often.”

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“I’ve learned to pick up phrases in the Tauran language. I listen in on their conversations for practice. Only a few centaurs know how to navigate the maze. They only go in to bring food for the troll. They love the horn and would kill to protect it. Don’t go after it, Kendra.”

“Thanks,” Kendra said earnestly. “We better not talk too long. The centaurs are already suspicious.”

“My pleasure.” The tiny fairy zipped away.

Kendra walked with the others back to the cart. She sat in silence as they passed through the evergreen grove, the orchard, and the vineyard. When they reached the edge of the dreary, steaming marsh, the centaurs handed the wagon back to Hugo, who stood waiting exactly where they had left him.

Once they were well along the path, Kendra scooted near Grandpa. “Are we safe to talk about what happened?” she asked.

Grandpa looked around. “I think so, if we keep our voices down.”

“I know where the maze begins.”

“What?” Grandpa looked startled. “How?”

“A fairy told me. The entrance is hidden beneath the southernmost warding stone. That is what the fairy called the giant stones at the bottom of the hill. Two hours before dawn the stones move around, leaving the entrance accessible for about an hour.”

“Well done, Kendra,” Grandpa said. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure it changes our circumstances much. Few creatures have more raw power than mountain trolls. None of us can navigate a Tauran maze. And even without the obstacles, the horn can’t be stolen in the first place. If they don’t give it to us, we can’t take it. Am I wrong?”

Everyone was now huddled close around the conversation.

“I have no idea how we could borrow the horn without permission,” Tanu said.

“Nor do I,” Dale concurred.

“Our best bet is to start searching elsewhere,” Coulter suggested. “Somewhere in the wide world there must be another first horn.”

“We’ll be racing the Sphinx,” Grandma said. “And he has the Oculus.”

Grandpa frowned. “That may be so. But a glimmer of hope is better than none at all.”

Chapter 13

Shadow Charmer

The alarm on Seth’s wristwatch roused him from sleep. He fumbled with the tiny buttons until the beeping stopped. Leaning up on one elbow, he watched the motionless lump on Kendra’s bed. The alarm did not seem to have disturbed her.

Even so, he waited. Kendra could be crafty. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to preventing mischief. Minutes passed, but Seth stayed in bed. It gave his mind time to fully awaken.

Earlier that day, after the others had returned from their mission among the centaurs, they had related to Seth and Warren all they had discovered. The decision had been made to start hunting for a unicorn’s first horn outside of Fablehaven.

Quietly, Seth had begun to make his own plans.

He had spent the afternoon wondering about the voice he had heard while conversing with the satyrs. At first he had assumed the speaker was some random ghost wandering the woods. Later, a more convincing possibility came to mind. He now felt confident that the voice belonged to the demon Graulas.

After that realization, the plan began to fall into place. Graulas must have been impressed that Seth had helped overthrow the shadow plague, just as the demon had been astonished with how he had defeated the revenant. Seth felt sure that the demon was summoning him.

Since Graulas was calling to him, it must mean the demon had useful information. The possibilities were exhilarating. Perhaps Graulas could explain why Seth was hearing ghostly voices. After all, dark mysteries were his specialty. And hopefully Graulas could provide pointers on how they could swipe the horn from the centaurs after all. A visit to the demon might be all it would take for Seth to save the day.

His grandparents were always encouraging him to learn from his mistakes. And Seth had learned enough about his grandparents to know they would never permit him to visit the demon. They were relentlessly overprotective. If he brought it up, they would be on guard and do everything in their power to stop him. So Seth decided he would keep his plan to himself, leaving a note under the bed in case things went wrong and he never returned.

Could this be a trap? Yes. But if Graulas had wanted to kill him, the demon could have done so the last time Seth had visited. Could visiting Graulas place anyone besides himself in jeopardy? No, he couldn’t see how. What if he was mistaken and Graulas had not been summoning him? What if the mysterious voice had an entirely different origin? If he dropped by uninvited, might the demon kill him for intruding? Maybe. But the Sphinx was on his way to collecting his third artifact, and Seth’s friends and family were grasping at straws. Somebody had to make an aggressive move. Seth gritted his teeth. When all hope was gone, wasn’t it his job to fix things? Of course it was.