The Second Siege (30 page)

“Don’t chicken out now, Lucia,” moaned Connor.

“Shhh,” said Sarah. Footsteps sounded in the hall above them.

“There will be too many questions, and there’s no guarantee they’ll give it to us,” said Max. “You heard what Astaroth said—my mother doesn’t have much time! We can’t wait.”

“But—” protested Lucia.

“What are you worried about?” whispered Connor incredulously. “Getting
detention
? Lucia, the whole world’s going dark. Or haven’t you noticed? I don’t think anyone’s gonna lose sleep over your permanent record!”

Footsteps sounded in the stairwell; someone was approaching.

“Vola, vola!”
hissed Lucia, scowling and pinching Connor.

David muttered a word and tapped the doorknob three times. It swung open on well-oiled hinges and David stepped inside, hurrying over to the blackboard. He scratched at the board awkwardly with his left hand before abandoning the effort. Another command and the chalk bobbed into the air, writing the necessary words in a bold hand:
By right and necessity, David Menlo requests access to the Archives.

Max swiveled the board down and raised it once again to reveal the dark staircase below. In a quiet, even voice David gave the group brief instructions. Connor wrinkled his nose at the plan and shook his head.

“But we’ll get caught for sure!” he said.

“That’s precisely the point,” muttered David.

“But I want to come with you,” protested Connor.

“Me too,” said Sarah. “You can’t do all this alone.”

David said nothing for some time. When he spoke, his eyes glittered with tears.

“We’re not doing this alone,” he said. “You’re helping us right now. But you can’t come with us—none of you can. There’s no guarantee we’re coming back.”

Max said nothing as Sarah’s eyes locked onto his own. He had already suspected the terrible truth that David voiced aloud. He squeezed Sarah’s hand and kissed it as Cynthia removed her pearl necklace and enveloped David in a fierce hug.

“What’s this?” he asked as she pressed the necklace into his hand.

“This was my grandmama’s,” said Cynthia. “You bring it back or I’ll kill you!”

The six children laughed and hugged one another close again. Cynthia blew a long, lingering honk into her sleeve.

“We’ll make you proud,” she said, blinking away tears.

Max tightened David’s pack on his shoulders as the group stole down the warm, wet stairs and into the living heart of Rowan.

At the bottom of the stairs, the shedu stood flanking the door, as massive and imposing as Max remembered. The guardians stared straight ahead while David slipped from beneath the sheet to approach them. Speaking softly, David bowed low and made a supplicating gesture. There was a low rumble as the creatures lowered themselves to the ground, still towering over David. Max held his breath; they could have crushed the small boy at any moment. Gradually, the shedu closed their eyes and rested their heads on the clean stone floor.

“What did you do?” asked Max, leading the others forward.

“I suggested they have a nap,” said David simply. “They’re under a powerful spell, you know, to keep them alert. Poor things haven’t slept in centuries.”

Max peered through the double doors to the Archives. There in the center of the main reading room was Bram’s Key. Its silver was polished to a fine gleam; all about it were scholars huddled at surrounding tables strewn with charts and papers and parchments galore. Max squinted and saw Vilyak sipping coffee while he chatted quietly with nine men and women in dark nanomail.

“The Red Branch,” Max whispered. “They’re the best Agents in the world.”

Connor gave a low whistle.

“This changes everything,” whispered Cynthia. “Those are anything but scholars. How on earth are we supposed to fool them?”

“You don’t need to fool them forever,” said David. “You just need to be a distraction, nothing more. Who’s going to be the lucky one to get things moving?”

“I’ll do it,” said Sarah.

“Maybe I should,” said Connor.

“Please,” said Sarah. “I’m way faster than you—you’ll be nabbed in a heartbeat.”

“Once you’re caught, don’t resist,” Max said, peering out at the Red Branch. “Don’t even joke around, Connor—I
mean
it. Surrender right away and demand to speak to Ms. Richter. Those Agents are deadly serious. Don’t give them any excuse to hurt you.”

Lucia made a funny whimper; Connor swallowed hard.

Reaching into his pack, David removed a rolled-up pair of socks and squeezed it within his fist. The pair of socks suddenly grew and assumed a metallic luster. Seconds later, David held a perfect replica of the silver armillary sphere.

Sarah slipped under the blanket with Max and David while the others remained behind. Slowly, the hidden trio made their way into the Archives, creeping along the floor until they were crouched a mere foot from the table where Bram’s Key was perched. Across the way, Vilyak continued his conversation with the Red Branch.

David handed Max the replica sphere. Both glanced at Sarah. The beautiful Nigerian girl nodded and set her jaw.

In one fluid movement, Sarah dashed out from beneath the blanket and snatched Bram’s Key from its pedestal. There was a commotion as scholars sat up suddenly at their tables. Vilyak’s black doll’s eyes flicked onto Sarah. Before anyone could move, David flexed his fingers and Sarah shut her eyes.

“Solas!”

The room exploded in light. Scholars shouted and fell back from their tables; Vilyak and the Red Branch cursed, stumbling forward as the flash of light momentarily blinded them. Sarah dashed past Max, smoothly exchanging the real Key for the replica. Huddling close to a bookcase, Max and David waited for the scholars and Agents to stampede past them as Sarah bolted toward the entrance and the stairs.

Once they had a clear path, Max and David hurried for the opposite end of the cavernous room, walking quickly in lockstep beneath the displacement blanket. Behind them, Max heard shouts as Connor, Lucia, and Cynthia ran into the room. Sarah’s voice rose above the din, yelling, “Catch!” There was a triumphant whoop from Connor, followed by more shouts and the crash of toppling furniture.

Once they reached the great spiral staircases that led up to the stacks, Max and David turned to see their friends pinned on the floor, each in the arms of two members of the Red Branch. Vilyak stood above them, red-faced and barking questions that echoed in the room’s vast acoustics. Shaken scholars righted tables and lamps, stepping around broken chairs and a shattered vase.

David tugged at Max’s arm and the two hurried up the steps, winding up and around the Archives’ perimeter until they stopped, breathless, at a remote stack of dusty tomes and ribbon-bound papers.

“This is it,” David wheezed, stowing the sphere in the pack on Max’s back. “This is the secret way I used last year.”

“I thought you said I couldn’t follow you this way,” said Max.

“We need to try,” said David, catching his breath. Below them, Vilyak’s anger echoed off the walls and filled the great space. “I’ll go first to open the passage. Instead of going straight through, I’ll try to stay inside to keep it open. Hurry after me.”

Max nodded. Slipping out from beneath the blanket, David strode toward a stack of books on Divination. The books parted and let him pass with nary a ripple. Holding his breath, Max followed after.

He gasped as he felt his body suddenly squeezed under immense pressure. A faint clicking sounded in his jaw; there was a horrendous pull on his body as though a great and greedy giant were slurping him through a straw. The pressure in his head began to build. Strange lights swam before his eyes, and he feared his jaw would snap.

Suddenly, like a popping balloon, the pain was gone.

Opening his eyes, Max saw that he and David were standing on the path between the Manse and Old Tom. David’s teeth chattered. It was still dark, but it was Christmas morning and the campus looked serene as snow fell, clean and cold. David and Max trotted off across the lawns, past twinkling lights and holly boughs, as they made their way toward the slippery steps that would lead them down to the sea.

The
Kestrel
loomed black and huge against the graying dawn. Her stout planks creaked as she rocked back and forth, restless in the choppy water that splashed and steamed against her sides. The two boys hurried along the packed sand, up the steps, and down the dock like a pair of fugitives. In one spring, Max cleared the distance between the dock and the ship. He swung the gangplank over the side, pushing it toward David, who waited patiently on the dock, still in his pajamas. A moment later, David scampered up the platform and onto the ship, his cheeks pink with excitement.

“We’ll have to hurry,” he said, taking Bram’s Key from Max.

Boom!

The
Kestrel
groaned as some force took hold of it. The prow rose high in the air like a bucking horse and crashed down again, knocking the two boys off their feet and jarring the sphere from David’s grasp. Scrambling on all fours, Max dove for the sphere, which rolled and skittered toward starboard as the ship rocked nearly onto its side. He caught the Key by its stand, slamming painfully into the ship’s guardrails.

A familiar wailing rose up from the black ocean depths. The ship began to shake and pitch violently. As they and their classmates had discovered the previous year, the
Kestrel
had an unseen and most disturbing guardian. A horrific, weeping wail rose to shake their eardrums and rattle their senses.

The boys clung precariously to the ship as it bucked and rocked. Freezing water crashed over the side to drench the two as Max crawled toward the ship’s figurehead, squinting as snow and bits of ice whipped against his face in a sudden tempest. The wailing became an earsplitting scream.

“Hold on!” he yelled over the wailing and the crash of the waves. David had wrapped a bit of rope around his wrist and was slung about the deck. Max leapt over a barrel that had broken free from its fastenings and climbed the deck that rose again before him. Wind screamed through the sails and rigging as Max clambered forward. As the ship tapered toward the prow, he was able to seize the railing and pull himself up.

The figurehead, a stern-looking hawk carved of dark wood, bobbed just beyond reach. Max leapt and grabbed hold of it as the ship crashed against the sea again, nearly flinging him over the prow. A metal ring on the figurehead’s arched back grazed Max’s hand. His fingers felt the perimeter of a circle, carved like the lid of a jack-o’-lantern into the back of the figure. He tugged at the metal ring, but the lid remained fast—glued shut with grime and salt that had accumulated over the years. Max gritted his teeth and gave a tremendous pull, wrenching the lid open but throwing himself backward in the process.

He crashed onto the deck and braced himself to be flung overboard. Nothing happened, however. The terrible wailing subsided to a sigh, and the
Kestrel
settled back into its berth like a hen returning to its nest. A few residual waves slapped the ship’s side, and then the ocean was calm. Max scrambled quickly to his feet, clutching Bram’s Key. He turned to see David tangled hopelessly in netting like a towheaded fish.

“What made it stop?” Max asked as snow fell peacefully once again upon his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” panted David, untangling himself.

Suddenly, the ship was bathed in light as though a hundred spotlights had been turned upon it. Max shielded his eyes, stumbling toward the rail to see what was happening.

Standing on the beach, beneath floating orbs of light, was Ms. Richter, flanked by Commander Vilyak and other members of the Red Branch. Curious spectators were streaming down the stone steps, wrapped in robes and blankets to assemble on the beach. Max saw his father among them, hurrying down the steps with Bob, who clutched a lantern.

“Max!” his father called. “What are you doing? Is that
David
?”

“Hi, Mr. McDaniels,” said David, waving weakly.

“David Menlo, explain yourself,” said Ms. Richter, looking tired and grim.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” said David. “But Max and I have to leave now. Don’t be too hard on Connor and the others. They only meant to help.”

“McDaniels!” shouted Vilyak. “Disembark from that ship immediately! That’s a direct order!”

“Max,” called his father, looking horror-stricken. “Please come down here.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” said Max, ignoring Vilyak while he handed Bram’s Key to David. “I’m off to find Mom.”

“Then let me come with you!” cried Mr. McDaniels hoarsely, hurrying through the crowd and sputtering clouds of frosty air.

“You can’t,” said Max, shaking his head. “You can’t come with me this time, but I’ll find her. I promise! Look after Nick!”

Mr. McDaniels stopped, his mouth agape as he stared up at his son.

Vilyak barked an order to his Agents, who began striding purposefully up the dock’s steps.

“Stop!”
said Ms. Richter. The Agents halted at her command, alternating their gaze between the Director and Commander Vilyak. Ms. Richter turned from them and gazed back at Max. The Director gave a sad but understanding smile. Her voice carried, clear and strong, in the wintry air. “You carry our fortunes with you. Go with our blessings and look after David. You must be his keeper.”