Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)

Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5) Page 35

"Should all else fail," Bracken said, "swoop low and set us down."

"Or drop me now," Warren said.

Kendra looked down. They were thousands of feet above the desert. "Are you crazy?"

"If it means the rest of you make it out, it would be worth it."

"I won't drop anyone," Raxtus said.

"These harpies are only engaged in reconnaissance," Bracken said. "I see no other pursuers. If our enemies knew who we were, they would be throwing everything they have at us. It could be much worse."

"Can the harpies leave the preserve?" Kendra asked.

"Not over the wall," Bracken said.

"Unless," Raxtus gasped, "they don't belong ... to Living Mirage."

"They belong here," Bracken assured them. "The Sphinx keeps Living Mirage locked down tightly. He wouldn't want any creatures coming and going."

"Won't the wall stop Raxtus from leaving?" Kendra asked.

"Nothing can enter over the wall," Raxtus wheezed. "But most of the defenses ... are focused outward. I don't belong here. Finding a way in ... is the trick. After that, I'm free to leave. Same with you three."

"They're gaining," Warren said.

Kendra was facing forward, so she really had to contort herself to look back at their pursuers. Two of the harpies had climbed higher than them. One was flying lower. Their gaunt, greenish faces glared with determination.

"Don't let them scratch you," Warren cautioned. "I'd rather get bitten by plague tats."

Kendra held her palm against Raxtus, hoping her energy would give him a boost. He had not reverted to his invisible state.

"The one below is trying to cut off a dive," Bracken warned.

"I see her," Raxtus said, sounding flustered. The two above them were quickly gaining. One bared her pointy teeth.

Warren spoke up. "If you drop me from here, could you catch me?"

"Probably," Raxtus said.

"Good enough," Warren said. "Wait for it. Wait for it."

"I'm not going to--"

"Don't argue!" Warren snapped. "Now!"

Raxtus let go of him, then curved into a steep dive. Kendra craned her neck to watch Warren. The harpy below was on a course to intercept him. Plummeting through the air, Warren drew his sword. The harpy tried to swerve away, but with a brutal downward stroke, Warren hacked off a wing as he plunged past her. The momentum from the blow made him spin awkwardly as he fell. The caterwauling harpy went into a spiraling plunge of her own. Shedding feathers, the severed wing descended more slowly.

The desert rushed up toward Kendra with alarming haste. Fully committed to a whistling dive, Raxtus neared Warren, who had righted himself and was now falling spread-eagle like a skydiver. The dragon grabbed Warren and then tried to pull out of the hurtling dive. G-forces tugged dizzyingly as Raxtus wrenched them back toward level flight.

Blackness encroached around the edges of Kendra's vision, and then they were skimming along the ground with her feet inches above parched dirt.

Raxtus slowed, dropping them gently. Beating his wings, the dragon gained altitude and veered off to one side, becoming invisible.

"I take it all back," Bracken said. "I'm glad you have the sword."

"Are you all right?" Kendra asked.

Warren grinned. "I'm surprised to be alive. That would have been a very big belly flop into a very dry pool. Here they come!"

The two remaining harpies were soaring toward them. One was looking over her shoulder, an extended finger tracing the flight path Raxtus had taken. Either she could see him or else she was estimating. The other harpy increased her speed, coming right at them.

"Care to lend me your sword?" Bracken asked.

"I've got her," Warren said, holding the weapon ready. "Watch Kendra."

Bracken took her hand and pulled Kendra back. The harpy who had been tracking Raxtus swerved to one side, wings flailing, talons raised, and was suddenly jostled roughly from the sky. Raxtus flickered into view after the impact. The headless harpy flopped to the arid ground.

The final harpy swooped at Warren, shrieking with rage. He sidestepped and slashed viciously, chopping off a claw, but the other claw raked him, and he spun to the dirt.

Howling furiously, the maimed harpy hopped twice on her remaining leg, then leapt back into the air, flapping her wings and coming toward Bracken and Kendra. Bracken tossed a rock at her, which exploded with a blinding flash. The harpy closed her eyes but kept coming, her remaining claw outstretched. Bracken drew his little knife.

Just before the harpy reached them, she dropped hard to the dirt, as if an unseen piano had landed on her. Raxtus became visible again, standing on top of her, stamping and raking with razor claws. Feathers fluffed into the air. Kendra averted her eyes.

Warren staggered over to them, hand clutching his shoulder, a sheen of sweat glistening on his haggard face. "Rather ... be mauled ... by a pack of rabid dogs."

Raxtus stopped shredding his prey and flew off to inspect the one-winged harpy.

"Let me see," Bracken said.

Warren removed his hand. Ugly stripes had been slashed into his shoulder, the edges yellow, the blood almost black. Warren bit his lower lip. "I can feel the poison spreading."

Bracken placed his palm on the wounds. Flinching slightly, Warren gasped in pain. Bracken bowed his head and closed his eyes. His nose and lips twitched. His hand gave off a pearly glow. When he removed his hand, the edges of the wounds were no longer yellow, and the blood looked less dark.

"Wow, that felt hot," Warren growled through clenched teeth.

"I burnt away most of the poison," Bracken said, swaying. He shook his head as if to clear it. "Once upon a time that would have been simple."

Raxtus came gliding back to them. "No more harpies," the dragon announced proudly, landing nearby.

"Good work," Warren said. "How do they taste?"

"Terrible!" Raxtus exclaimed, baring his teeth in disgust. "I bit the head off one of them. I couldn't spit it out fast enough!"

"Warren got hurt," Kendra said.

"I tried to hurry," Raxtus apologized. "They were so intent on you three, it made them easy prey."

"You did great," Warren said. "Those harpies barely knew what hit them. I'm impressed."

"Want to try to heal him?" Kendra asked the dragon.

Raxtus chuckled nervously. "Bracken might be more the expert."

"I've done what I can," Bracken said. "With my horns gone, I'm a ghost of my former self. Trace amounts of toxin remain. I can't close the wounds any more than I have."

"I can try," Raxtus said uncertainly. "Kendra, it might help if you keep a hand on me."

The dragon brought his chrome-bright head close to Warren, and Kendra rested her hand against the gleaming neck. Raxtus glowed brighter. Lowering his nostrils to the wound, the dragon exhaled a glittering, multihued spray. The wounds closed, leaving three angry welts.

"Well done," Bracken said.

"It helped to have Kendra steadying me," Raxtus replied.

Warren rubbed his shoulder. "Much better."

Bracken stepped forward and felt his forehead. "You still have trace amounts of harpy venom in your system. We need to get you to a healer."

"How long do I have?" Warren asked solemnly.

Bracken frowned. "Maybe twelve hours. Maybe fourteen."

"What?" Kendra cried.

"He would have been dead within minutes without our intervention," Bracken said. "If I had a horn, curing him would be simple. But any decent healer should have the required antivenin."

Warren rubbed Kendra's shoulder affectionately. "I told you, it's better to get chewed up by plague rats. Harpies are foul."

"Try biting off one of their heads!" Raxtus griped, shuddering. "Sorry, I know, at least I didn't get poisoned."

"Do you know any healers in the area?" Bracken asked.

"The closest I know of would be in Istanbul," Warren apologized.

"Think you can carry us to Istanbul?" Bracken asked.

"I can make it," Raxtus said stoutly. "Might help if the attacks would slow down."

"Let's get back in the sky," Bracken urged.

Raxtus backed up, sprang into the air, snatched Kendra, Warren, and Bracken, and started climbing. Several minutes later, still gaining altitude, they passed over the border of Living Mirage with no signs of pursuit.

Chapter 19 Cormac

The sky had threatened rain all morning, but not a drop had fallen yet. Slow, gray clouds currently obscured the sun. Seth checked his watch. Almost 1:30. He hoped the leprechaun would make an appearance soon. Once the sun went down, the centaurs would certainly be after them.

Seth knelt behind a bush between Newel and Doren, watching a sack that hung from a limb over a sandy patch beside a stream. Not far upstream, the water tumbled over a series of ledges, sending up a fine mist around the rocky base of the final drop. According to Patton, the banks near the base of the waterfall were frequented by a leprechaun named Cormac.

"Do you really think this will work?" Doren asked.

Seth flicked the letter in his hand. "Patton seems convinced."

"Patton doesn't have a hefty sum of gold coins at risk," Newel grumbled. "I wish this design had been tested."

"No you don't," Seth said. "Patton made it clear in his letter that the same trap never works twice on the same leprechaun. He has caught Cormac five times with five different traps, and he feels like this new trap will do it again."

"If you keep talking, the leprechaun will never come," Vanessa hissed, making Seth jump. Since hazardous creatures were now free to wander Fablehaven, she and Hugo had been scouting the area. Seth still didn't see her, but apparently her prowling had brought her within earshot.

"Good point," Seth whispered back.

He surveyed the trap in silence. An irregular trail of gold coins led from the stream to a wide patch of sand ringed by rocks. Along the trail, a few of the coins were half-buried, a couple completely buried. In select places they had scattered multiple coins within a small area. Patton had explained that leprechauns couldn't resist unattended gold. Finding lost and hidden treasure was how the little men built their wealth.

In theory, the trail of gold would lead Cormac to a point where he would notice the hanging sack, which contained seventy gold coins. A small flask of whiskey, provided by the satyrs, awaited atop the coins inside the sack.

Minutes trickled by. Without the stimulation of conversation, Seth began to nod drowsily. He had not slept soundly the night before, and had awakened early. He was slipping into a colorful dream involving pie and llamas and water-slides when Doren elbowed him in the ribs.

Seth jerked his head up. A little man in a red frock coat was pulling a half-buried coin out of the sand. He stood not much taller than Seth's knees, wore an outdated hat, and had a bristly auburn beard. The leprechaun wiped the coin on his coat, sniffed it, and tucked it away into a pocket.

Cocking his head back, the little man studied the sack above him. "Foolish place to hide a treasure," he said in an Irish brogue. He spoke loudly, as if to a slightly deaf companion, although he appeared to be alone. "Might be the poor sap hoped to keep it out of the reach of animals. Might be he had no time to stash his savings properly. The fellow might be so rich he can afford to be careless. Might simply be an idiot--the world boasts an endless supply. Then again, might be a trap."

Glancing left and right, the leprechaun rubbed his knobby nose. Fortunately, Seth and the satyrs had chosen a thick bush a good distance from the bag.

Creeping forward, the leprechaun recovered another coin from under the sand. The little man flicked the coin, held it to his ear, then addressed it fondly. "Tell me about your brothers. Do you hail from a large family?" He squinted up at the sack. "I expect you do."

The coin disappeared into a pocket. The leprechaun stood with his hands on his hips, considering the bulging sack and the tree from which it hung. In his letter, Patton had explained that leprechauns tended to be clever, but that gold and whiskey had been known to cloud their judgment. Seth watched intently.

"Might be a trap," the little man repeated, peering furtively over his shoulder. "If so, what if old Cormac swipes the bait and leaves the rest? I see no evidence of sophistication. History has shown that few have the wits to get the better of me. That blighter Patton Burgess has been dead and buried for years. And what if it isn't a trap? I would be the prince of fools to leave a rich haul like this to another." He rubbed his hands together. "Very well, no use debating once my mind is made up."

The leprechaun scampered to the base of the tree and scaled the trunk. Newel and Doren crouched lower, and Seth mimicked them. The little man walked out along the limb to the spot where the bag was tied. There he paused, surveying the vicinity one last time. Satisfied, he shinnied down the cord to the mouth of the sack, loosened it, and squirmed inside.

The instant the leprechaun disappeared from view, Newel and Doren were up and running. Despite their haste, Seth didn't hear a single leaf rustle. He did hear the leprechaun talking to himself inside the sack. "Well, well, fancy meeting you here. Don't mind if I do."

Seth found it hard to hold still, but the satyrs had warned that the leprechaun would hear him if he tried to stay with them. He watched as Newel and Doren stepped softly onto the sandy patch beneath the sack. Newel used a knife lashed to a pole to reach up and sever the cord. Doren caught the sack and held the mouth closed.