Fablehaven: The Complete Series (80 page)

“Why did they write it in English so many times?” Kendra asked.

“I only see it in English once,” Warren said.

“Oh, fairy languages,” she said.

They reached the bottom ring. “Stay near me,” Warren instructed. “Step only where I step. Be ready for anything.” He tapped the ground with the handle of the key before stepping down. Kendra followed him.

“Which door should we try?” Kendra asked.

“You pick,” he said. “It’s a toss-up.”

Kendra pointed at one of the doors. Warren led the way, prodding the floor with the key like a blind man. The door was of plain, heavy wood bound in iron, and appeared to be in good repair. Warren probed the ground off to one side and had Kendra stand there holding the ax. Standing still, she disappeared. Holding the key like a spear, he pulled the door open.

Nothing waited behind the door except a stairway curling downward. Warren got out the dying flashlight. He tried to tap the top stair with the handle of the key, but the handle went right through it.

“Kendra, look,” Warren said. The handle of the key disappeared through the first few steps. “False stairs. Probably masking a drop of hundreds of feet.”

They crossed the room and repeated their cautious actions at the other door. Again the door opened to a stairway, and again the stairs were only an illusion. Warren leaned out far, testing with the key, to check if perhaps only the first few stairs were counterfeit, but nothing within reach proved to be tangible.

Warren led the way around the perimeter of the room, tapping the floor and the walls. They reached a place where the key passed through the wall. Warren leaned through the illusion, and Kendra heard him tapping with the key.

“Here is the genuine stairway,” he said. Kendra passed through the insubstantial wall and saw a stone stairway winding downward. White stones set in the walls emitted a soft light.

“You never know what might be a mirage in places like this,” Warren said. He poked one of the glowing stones with the key. “Ever seen a sunstone?”

“No,” Kendra said.

“So long as one stone sits under the sun, all the sister stones share the light,” he said. “It’s probably atop one of the nearby hills.”

As they descended the stairs, they found a few places where illusionary steps disguised gaps in the stairway. Warren helped Kendra leap across the empty places. Finally they reached the bottom of the stairs and another door.

Again Warren had Kendra move over to one side as he opened the door. “Strange,” he murmured, testing the ground. Warren stepped through the doorway. “Come on, Kendra.”

She peeked through the doorway. The room was large and circular, with a domed ceiling. White stones set in the ceiling illuminated the scene. Deep, golden sand covered the floor. On the far side of the room a door was painted on the wall. On the left side of the room murals of three monsters decorated the wall, with another three on the right side. Kendra saw a blue woman with six arms and the body of a serpent, a Minotaur, a huge Cyclops, a dark man who from waist up looked human and from waist down had the body and legs of a spider, an armored snakelike man wearing an elaborate headdress, and a dwarf in a hooded cloak. All the images, though a tad faded, had been rendered with supreme skill.

Warren raised a hand for Kendra to halt. The key sank into the sand in front of him. “There are places where the sand becomes treacherous,” he said. “Watch your step.”

In order to avoid sinking in quicksand, they took a circuitous path to the painted door on the far side of the room. The painting depicted a door of solid iron with a keyhole below the handle. Hesitantly, Warren touched the painting. The image of the door rippled for an instant, and suddenly the door became real, a mural no longer.

Warren whirled, key held high, and eyed the other murals in the room. Nothing happened. Finally he turned back to the door and tried the handle. The door was locked. “Notice anything all the creatures on the wall have in common?” Warren asked.

Kendra focused on comparing them. “A key around their necks,” she said. The keys were not obvious. They were small, and subtly drawn, but each painted being had one.

“Any theories on how we get through the door?” Warren asked, obviously with an answer in mind.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kendra said.

“Don’t we both wish,” he said. “The old guys who designed this place sure knew how to throw a party.” He led Kendra around the perimeter of the room, avoiding quicksand, and scrutinized the depiction of each individual creature.

“The keys appear identical to me,” he said after studying the dwarf. “I think the game is selecting which foe we believe we can overcome.”

“I hate to be cruel,” Kendra said, “but I’m thinking the dwarf.”

“I would choose him last of all,” Warren said. “He carries no weapon, which leads me to believe he must be strong in magic. And he looks the easiest at first glance, which almost certainly means he is the most deadly.”

“Then who?” Kendra asked. The Minotaur carried a heavy mace. The Cyclops wielded a cudgel. The blue woman held a sword in each hand. The hobgoblin, as Warren had named the snakelike man, clutched a pair of axes. And the half-spider man bore a javelin and a whip.

“I suspect the Minotaur may be the lesser of these evils,” Warren said at length. “I would no sooner choose the woman than the dwarf, and a Cyclops is nearly as adroit as he is strong. Of the others, the Minotaur carries the most cumbersome weapon. His mace will limit his reach and hamper his ability to avoid the tip of my spear.”

“You mean your key,” Kendra said.

“We’ll use one key to get another.”

Kendra regarded the Minotaur. Black fur, wide horns, bulky musculature. He stood a full head taller than Warren. “You think you can take him?” Kendra asked.

Warren was testing the sand and outlining the sinkholes. “I’ll want you to stand still,” he said. “The Minotaur may catch your scent—I want to keep him in doubt as to your location. You’ll keep the ax, and if I should lose the key, you may be able to toss it to me. If I should fall, the Minotaur will roam the room searching for you. If you keep still, you may have one free swing at him.”

“But you think you can take him?” Kendra repeated.

Warren looked at the image of the Minotaur and hefted the key. “Why not? I’ve made it through some tight scrapes before. I would give a lot for a few of my regular weapons. Maybe you could use the ax to help me mark all the quicksand?”

They spent much longer than Kendra liked delineating the areas of treacherous sand. She knew Vanessa and Errol were on their trail. Once the sand had been marked, Warren positioned Kendra so that the largest region of quicksand was between her and the Minotaur. He approached the mural.

“You ready?” Warren asked.

“I guess,” Kendra answered, squeezing the handle of her invisible ax, her heart pounding.

“Maybe I can get in a cheap shot right at the start,” he said, touching the image of the Minotaur and raising the key, holding it ready to strike. The mural wavered for a moment and then vanished. The sharp tip of the key clinked against the wall, and the Minotaur appeared behind Warren.

“Behind you!” Kendra screamed.

Warren ducked and lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have brained him. The Minotaur swung the mace briskly. The weapon was big and heavy, but the Minotaur was strong enough that it did not look very cumbersome.

Warren faced the Minotaur, staying a few paces away, key held ready. “Why not just hand over the key?” Warren asked. The Minotaur snorted. From across the room, Kendra could smell the beast, an odor like livestock.

The Minotaur charged, and Warren nimbly danced away. Warren pulled back his arm as if to throw the key, and the Minotaur raised his mace protectively. Feinting like he was hurling the key, Warren leapt closer and used the long reach of the key to scratch the Minotaur on the snout.

The Minotaur roared, chasing Warren around the room. Warren ran from his pursuer, trying his best to lead the Minotaur toward quicksand while keeping the beast away from Kendra. Either the Minotaur understood what the lines in the sand meant, or he instinctively knew where not to step, because he skirted the quicksand just as effectively as Warren.

Sniffing the air, the Minotaur turned toward Kendra. “Over here, you coward!” Warren shouted, moving in closer and brandishing the key. The Minotaur strode boldly toward Warren, holding the mace off to one side, tempting Warren by leaving his chest exposed.

After a few feints, Warren took the bait, driving the tip of the key toward the Minotaur’s chest. The Minotaur grabbed the key just below the slender spearhead with his free hand and wrenched it from Warren’s grasp, yanking him closer in the process, and swung the mace.

Warren saved himself by diving backwards and managing to keep his feet. The blow had missed by inches. The Minotaur quickly reversed his grip on the key and hurled it like a javelin, burying the head in Warren’s abdomen despite his attempt to dodge it.

Roaring triumphantly, the Minotaur rushed at Warren, who pulled out the key and stumbled away, the spearhead red with his own blood. Scrambling, spraying sand, Warren managed to get a small area of quicksand between the Minotaur and himself.

Kendra flung the flashlight and struck the Minotaur in the back. The brute turned, but she was invisible again. The Minotaur picked up the flashlight, sniffed it, and then sniffed the air, moving toward Kendra.

Using the key like a crutch, Warren came around the quicksand, approaching the Minotaur from behind. The Minotaur whirled and gave chase. Warren skipped away, ending up with his back to a broad expanse of quicksand.

“Warren, quicksand!” Kendra cried.

Too late, he stepped beyond the line in the sand, one leg sinking to his thigh, the rest of him collapsing forward onto the sturdier sand. The Minotaur dashed forward, mace held high to issue the killing stroke. Quick as a mousetrap, Warren thrust upward with the key, the razor tip of the spearhead entering the Minotaur just below the sternum, angled up to pierce his heart. The Minotaur stood still, impaled, and snorted. The mace fell from his hairy hands, landing heavily on the sand. Warren twisted the key and shoved it in deeper, toppling the Minotaur backwards. Panting, Warren withdrew his leg from the mushy sand.

Kendra ran to him. “That was an amazing trick!” she shouted.

“A desperate one,” he said. “All or nothing.” His hand covered the wound on his abdomen. He swatted at the damp sand coating his leg. “Probably wouldn’t have worked, except the Minotaur thought I was mortally wounded. Course, he might have been right.”

“Is it bad?” she asked.

“It pierced me deep, but clean,” he said. “In straight, out straight. Belly wounds are hard to read. Depends what got punctured. Go fetch the key.”

Kendra crouched beside the supine Minotaur, enjoying the livestock smell even less up close. The key hung on a fine gold chain. She pulled hard, and the chain snapped. “I have it,” Kendra said.

“Get the big one too,” Warren said. The big key was still lodged in the Minotaur’s chest. Kendra had to brace a foot against the beast to tug it free. Warren had taken off his shirt. The blood stood out sharply against his white skin. Kendra averted her eyes. He wadded up his shirt and pressed it against the wound, which was a couple of inches to one side of his belly button. “Let’s hope this stanches the bleeding,” he said. “Can you cut me a length of rope?”

Using the sharp spearhead of the bloody key, Kendra did as he said, and Warren used the rope to bind his shirt in place over the wound. He wiped the blood from the spearhead onto his pants. “Can you go on?” Kendra asked.

“Not much choice,” he said. “Let’s see if the Minotaur’s key works.”

Groaning, Warren used the tall key to pull himself to his feet. He walked to the iron door, inserted the Minotaur’s key, and opened it.

Chapter 20