Fablehaven: The Complete Series (169 page)

“I’ll s-s-s-second that,” Gavin said.

Trask set aside his crossbow. “According to the plan, Kendra will help guide Aaron to a meadow roughly two miles from the gate to Wyrmroost. If we tried to fly the helicopter over the wall into the sanctuary, none of us would survive—the magical barrier extends miles into the sky. After we leave the helicopter, Kendra will lead us to the gate, where we will use the first horn to enter. Making a guess based on the gate at Isla del Dragón, our assumption is that the gate locks from both sides, and that the distracter spell may function in both directions as well. We will probably need Kendra and the horn to get in and out. That is her main role in this mission. Warren joins us strictly as her protector.

“While Kendra and Warren stay with the caretaker, the rest of us are charged with finding this key hidden by Patton Burgess. Locating the key may be the biggest trick. All we know is that we may find a clue below the false gravestone of Patton Burgess. We may require Kendra’s help to translate the clue.”

Trask slid off the bed and began strolling around the room. “Throughout the coming days, we will have to rely on each other implicitly. I’ve said a few words about myself. I would like each of us to introduce ourselves and to sum up how we intend to be of service. Trust must unite us. When the Sphinx ran the Knights, his philosophy relied on secrets and mistrust. I never liked that system, hiding behind masks among friends. We were supposedly compartmentalizing information in case of spies, but in the end it kept us apart. That type of system made it easier for spies to operate among us and, yes, to lead us. Kendra, I know you have a big secret, and Gavin, so do you. The Society is aware of Kendra’s, and has most likely guessed Gavin’s by now. If our enemies can know our secrets, why not our most trusted friends? Each of you is free to choose how much you care to reveal. Try to be as forthright as possible. Let’s start with Dougan.” Trask sat down.

Dougan cleared his throat. “I’m a Lieutenant in the Knights of the Dawn. I am no dragon tamer, but I’m a seasoned adventurer, mountaineer, and survivalist. Trask is our team leader, and I’m here to support him.”

Tanu stood. “I’m Tanugatoa, call me Tanu. I’m a potion master and I’ve served with the Knights for almost twenty years. The dragon sanctuary should be rich with ingredients unavailable elsewhere. Hopefully mixing potions will be my greatest contribution. In a pinch, I’m also an experienced healer.”

They had been moving in a circle, and Kendra was next. All eyes turned to her as she started speaking. “I’ve only been a Knight for a few months. My one real ability is that I’m fairykind, which the Sphinx knows.” She noticed Gavin and Mara staring at her in astonishment. “I can see in the dark, command fairies, and I can understand just about any language related to Silvian, the fairy language. Distracter spells don’t work on me, which is why I’ll lead us to the gate. I think we’re hoping Patton may have left some clues for us in the secret fairy language, which I can read. I guess that’s it.”

Warren slapped his hands together. “I’m Warren Burgess, a great-great-nephew of the legendary and somewhat infamous Patton Burgess. I’m a Scorpio who enjoys badminton, snorkeling, and Chinese checkers.” He paused for laughter but only earned a couple of smiles. “I’m Kendra’s second cousin. I’ve worked with the Knights for about ten years, part of which I spent in a catatonic stupor at Fablehaven. I’m here to protect Kendra. We brought some useful items, including a knapsack which contains a fairly spacious extra-dimensional storeroom. We loaded the knapsack with lots of supplies, including powdered milk, walrus butter, and a man-sized wooden automaton called Mendigo. You’re all welcome to use the extra-dimensional compartment for storage. Claims to fame? I once broke half the bones in my body slaying a giant, two-headed panther.”

Mara stepped forward, standing tall and holding her head high. Her body language was defiant, as if ready for a fight, and she spoke in a serious, resonant alto. “I am Mara Tabares. I was about to inherit the stewardship of the Lost Mesa preserve when it was overthrown and my mother was killed. A dragon played a key role in the tragedy, as did a spy from the Society. I’ve always had an unusual connection to wild animals. I am a skilled tracker and wind watcher. Some say I may have the potential to become a dragon tamer.” She fell silent.

“More than potential,” Trask added. “I worked with Mara in October at Soaring Cliffs, and she remained self-possessed during a prolonged interview with a pair of adolescent dragons. No small feat. But I interrupt. Gavin?”

Gavin rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes only occasionally straying from the floor. “I guess you guys know that my dad was Charlie Rose. I b-b-basically grew up on the Frosted Peaks dragon sanctuary in the Himalayas. My dad had a tight relationship with the dragons there. After my mom died giving birth to me, he arranged for me to be accepted as a dragon brother. It is sort of like Kendra being fairykind—the dragons adopted me as one of their own and shared some power with me. I can s-s-s-speak their languages. If dragons kill me they would be challenged as if they had slain a dragon. My status as a dragon brother even affects me physically—I’m a little stronger and f-faster than I look.”

He combed his fingers through his hair. “Nobody has been a dragon brother for a very long time. My dad worried that my abilities would turn me into a target, so he kept me a secret. After he was killed, my dad’s best friend Arlin brought me to the Knights. Since the Sphinx was running the Knights when I joined, he knew the basics of what I could do, and so we’re p-p-pretty sure the Society has guessed what I am. But we’re still trying to keep the details of being a dragon brother quiet in case they don’t know everything.”

Trask rose to his feet. “Thanks for the candid introductions. As you can see, we have an impressive group assembled. All of you have at least been in the presence of a dragon, although a couple of you have never been to a dragon sanctuary.

“Let me convey a few thoughts about dragons, and then we’ll get to bed. Gavin, feel free to jump in. Dragons are magical from the tips of their fangs to the ends of their tails. The old ones are among the most ancient creatures on the planet. Highly intelligent, they have their own unique languages, but often speak hundreds of additional tongues. No two dragons are identical. They have diverse appearances, various breath weapons, and distinct spell-casting capabilities. Much like humans, dragons have a wide array of personalities. Some are just. Others are wicked.

“Communicating with dragons is difficult. Paralyzing fear radiates from them. In the presence of a dragon, most people find that their muscles lock up and their tongues stop working. With the unique exception of Gavin, you should never look a dragon in the eye. To do so will leave you entranced and incapacitated.

“Since dragons are not accustomed to communicating with other creatures, the best way to survive a draconic encounter is to hold an intelligent conversation. They find it amusing, and will often spare your life.

“Dragon sanctuaries are unlike other preserves you may have visited. Some protections are usually afforded to the caretaker, who also serves as the gatekeeper. Otherwise, there are no protections to visitors. For those of us heading beyond the abode of the caretaker, it will be like venturing into the wild. And we will have more than dragons to contend with. These sanctuaries were founded as a home for creatures too large and powerful to cohabit with the beings at the more traditional preserves. Little is known about Wyrmroost. Who can say what we might encounter? Gavin, do you have any words of advice?”

Gavin shrugged. “We’re going in there well armed. Our weapons might come in handy against some of the creatures we may encounter. But forget about your weapons if we face a threat from dragons. The first goal is to talk. The second is to flee or hide. Humans can’t stand against dragons. Once upon a time there were dragon slayers. That time is long gone.

“Here’s a metaphor my dad used: Dragons see us as we see mice. We’re not very tasty. We’re not a real threat. If they find us underfoot, they’ll kill us just to keep the area tidy. But if we talk to them, they’ll view us as we would a talking mouse. We become a surprising novelty, a cute pet. In the presence of a dragon, the goal is to amuse and impress. Play the role of a p-p-p-precocious mouse that no human would kill.”

“Sound advice,” Trask approved. “Any questions? No? Fine with me. We’ve gone over the basics. I’m proud to work with each of you. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will be an eventful day.”

Mara blew out the candle.

* * *

The splintery wall of the crate pricked Seth’s arm. The tin of whale butter in his pocket pressed against his thigh. He shifted position, but the movement bent his neck forward uncomfortably, nearly forcing his chin to his chest. The close, stale air inside the crate smelled of dust and rotting wood. He wished he could bore a hole in the side. Sweat slicked his skin. The carpet tented over him served as an unwanted blanket in the balmy darkness.

The saddest part was that the cramped stuffiness of the crate was almost certainly unnecessary. The odds were slim that anyone would descend the ladder until the next morning. He had clung to the ladder near the mouth of the knapsack, listening as Warren bade Kendra good night, and then descended to hide in case anyone decided to stow some final items before going to bed.

All remained quiet. It was probably safe to end the claustrophobic torture, but he refused to risk losing his chance to travel with the others to Wyrmroost. He had found a few roomier crates, but this one was up against the wall, well protected by other shabby containers. Inside this crate, with the lid on and a carpet draped over him, nobody would find him.

Tanu had missed him when he had searched inside the knapsack just before leaving. The big Samoan had thoroughly checked the room with a bright flashlight. He had even lifted the lid to the crate where Seth was hiding, but he had not looked under the carpet.

Seth wondered what Grandma and Grandpa were doing at the moment. As night fell, they would be freaking out, thinking he had roamed off into the woods and gotten lost or captured or killed. Any of those conclusions were fine with him, as long as they failed to guess the truth.

His decision to stow away inside the knapsack had not been made alone. On Christmas Eve, Grandpa had brought him into his office to deliver the news that he would not be part of the team sent to recover the key from Wyrmroost. Having already considered stowing away as a possible contingency, to allay suspicions, Seth had received the news with stoic acceptance.

After the seven members of the team had been announced to the rest of the family, Seth had retired to his room to think and found Warren waiting, spinning a basketball on the tip of his finger.

“Shame you won’t be coming,” Warren said, eyes on the ball.

“I’m used to it,” Seth replied. “I always miss the coolest stuff.”

“Think fast.” Warren chucked the ball at him. Seth caught it and tossed it back briskly. “How bad do you want to stow away?” the man asked.

“Stow away?”

Warren grinned. “Don’t bother with the innocent routine. I can spot fake innocence a mile away. Must be pretty tempting when you think about that knapsack. We’ll have to bring it for supplies, of course. Lots of room in there. Lot of places to hide.”

“You’re a jerk,” Seth said.

“Take it easy. I’m not here to rub it in. I kind of hope you do it.”

“What?”

Warren stood, dribbling the basketball between his legs. “I think you’re right. You’ve got unusual abilities that could come in handy. If you hadn’t pulled the nail from the revenant, I’d still be a mute albino. If you hadn’t been at the old manor when we went to retrieve the Chronometer, we never would have found Patton and Fablehaven would have fallen. I’m a believer, Seth. I’m not here to make you go. But if you
want
to go, I’m not going to discourage you. In fact, tomorrow afternoon, I’ll leave the knapsack in the backseat of the SUV, and I’ll make sure a door is unlocked.”

“This is some sort of trick. Grandpa put you up to this. It’s a trap.”

“No trick, I swear. We can’t afford to blow it at Wyrmroost. The Sphinx has the Oculus. We can’t let him have the Translocator. Think what will happen if the Sphinx can see anywhere and go anywhere! What will prevent him from grabbing all of the artifacts? How long will it be before he opens Zzyzx and none of us have anywhere to hide? Like it or not, we’re past playing it safe. If you want to be at Wyrmroost, I’d rather have you there than sitting idle at Fablehaven.”

That conversation had been all it took to thoroughly convince Seth. He had written the note to explain his absence, and, as Warren had promised, after Christmas dinner, the back of the SUV was unlocked, the knapsack waiting.

Since Seth had entered the knapsack, Mendigo had been his only company. Unlike Hugo, the overgrown puppet had no will, no identity. It did not speak. The big limberjack existed only to carry out orders. Once, the wooden figure had obeyed orders from the witch Muriel. Now it was loyal to the Sorensons.

Seth continued to wait inside the crate, perspiring in the stifling darkness. Aside from the ample provisions packed for the others, Warren had stashed extra food inside an old trunk for Seth. When he felt certain the others were asleep, his reward would be to grab some granola bars and peanut butter. But before Seth could reach that conclusion, he heard the rasp of wood scraping against wood, as if the lid of a container had slid open. He had heard nobody descend the ladder. Peeking out from under the carpet, he saw no light. He heard the faint creak of a trunk opening, the rustle of a bag, and the crunch of an apple.