The Youngest looked around and smiled. It was all going to work. The old man had everything he needed. As an added bonus, the people of the City of Shadows were being tortured for no particular reason. The good guys were going in totally the wrong direction. Even if they figured that out, they were still likely to be too late. It was wonderful. He flickered into the room where his frozen body was still imprisoned.

The floor underneath the Box of Sorrows was polished wood. The walls were covered in dark wallpaper, with mirrors set everywhere. Victorian furniture decorated several alcoves, all red velvet, gold trim, and wooden legs around little wooden tables. The only thing that spoiled the Victorian image was the ceiling, a gridwork of metal pipes with big, industrial lights suspended from it.

Under other circumstances, it might have been a fun place. Now, though, there was no one to play with. The Youngest checked the integrity of the locks on his cage. After the initial success, Mordakai hadn’t had any greater luck. Things were looking up, though.

Back in Covenshire, he looked in on Gwenivere Valentine. She was trapped in a dungeon, unable to use her Magick, or even move very much. Alistair would get home as soon as his pack had slackened its bloodlust, and he’d be thrilled to find her there, practically gift-wrapped.

The Youngest stopped and sniffed, brought up short by something that nagged at his attention. There was an unfamiliar purity within the tainted air of Covenshire.

"Family." the Youngest spat. "Him? But he never does anything."

* * *

Max woke up with the last light of day fading over his shoulder. He was lying in a bed, dressed in tattered rags, with someone next to him.

"Wow, that was freaked." His voice was raw. He reached over to his companion. "Hey Sabrina, wake... Oh my god"

Max backed away, rolling out of the bed and stumbling. He hit the wall behind him and would have backed away further. The girl on the bed wasn’t Sabrina, and she wasn’t moving. Her skin had been as cold as a block of ice.

"Oh please no. Please no." Max himself felt warm for the first time since he’d awakened in the old church with Debbie.

He forced himself to go back to the bed, to reach out with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking. The girl still had a pulse. It was weak, but her heart still beat.

"Thank you, god."

Max’s knees barely held him as he moved through the small room. He found extra blankets in a chest at the foot of the bed. The room had a small stove, too with a pail of coal next to it. The fire had died down in the night, so he stoked it.

When he’d done all he could, he fled the small house. Part of his mind told him to wait, to make sure she woke up alright. Other voices won out though: fear of what he’d done, of what he might have become, and longing, a nagging thought that he had somewhere else to be. He pelted into the night, running on unfeeling legs until he flew instead.

He didn’t exactly know what he was following. There was a spoor, a trail. He knew it was very important to get there. Not so much flying as leaping and gliding, because the trial wasn’t far from the ground, he traveled. The world around him was a blighted place. The crops left in the fields were thin, dry, and distinctly unhealthy. The place smelled of slow death and corruption. The image didn’t improve any as Max got closer to civilization. Buildings were uniformly grey stone, and always closed.

Caution led Max to slow as he approached the city. Getting past the walls was easy, and within he was able to avoid notice as by moving across the tops of buildings. Above about forty feet, an oppressive, sickly grey cloud hung, blocking out the sky. What few people moved below never bothered to look up.

The smog made it hard to follow his trail, though. Somewhere in the middle of the urban mass, he got lost. Finding the trail again required him to backtrack and circle the edges of the city, where salt laden air pouring in off of the harbor was able, almost, to dispel the stench. With something like clear air to breathe, he suddenly understood what he was following.

"Sabrina..."

There had been no sign of her or Gabriel since they got split up in the Village. Max rushed into the darkness, following a winding road through the forest. Wild howling sounded from within the trees. Max growled low, daring the unseen beasts to cross him.

* * *

Key was trapped. The hut she’d been secreted in had been enveloped by writhing, bleeding wood. She had to wonder if the harpies in the trees, or the Coventrys who commanded them, would be more merciful than a slow death of thirst and hunger.

The two children imprisoned with her were not taking the situation well.

"What are we going to do?" the little girl wailed.

Her brother had no answer except to hold her and to keep his own tears hidden. He patted her awkwardly.

"Stay calm," Key said, standing abruptly. "Your fear won’t do any good."

The boy looked up with hot eyes. "Do you have something better to do?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Key answered.

She curled up and went to sleep.

* * *

It had been what he wanted all along. Naturally, now that he had it, Jason was beginning to doubt the wisdom of entering Covenshire. He’d never been so close, even when the Ways still reached it. By all reports it had been an ugly place. Jason doubted that things had improved.

"So what’s our plan?" he asked.

He was standing with Colwynn and Kildare not far from the Knights’ chapter house. They had taken cover from the blood rain under a movie theatre marquee.

"We must discover what Mordakai Coventry is doing. Your sister may know, assuming she’s still alive. We will try to reach her first. Should that prove beyond our powers, or should we be too late, we must press on to the centre of his power and try to learn what we may in person. Whatever we do, our course of action begins with you, Colwynn."

Colwynn nodded and considered, then pointed down an alleyway so built over that it seemed to be a tunnel. "That leads to a Road. Gwenivere’s somewhere at the other end of it." She spurred Bella forward. "I think she’s still alive."

Jason gunned the engine of his Harley to life and turned to Kildare, who was standing in the cover of an awning. "Need a lift?"

"That will not be necessary."

The Sorcerer pulled a figurine out of the folds of his coat and held it in the palm of his hand. Jason picked out the design of a stylized horse in gold. Kildare cupped the statuette into both hands and blew on it. Light flared, and he dropped it to the ground. In moments the pulsing golden light grew and took on the shape of a dappled gold horse. It was barded in black, with gold trim. The sigil of the Knights of the Circle was emblazoned on the horse’s flanks.

"Show off." Jason said.

Kildare mounted fluidly. "Are you certain that will function in Covenshire?"

"It should. The technology is there, even if they usually use steam. Besides, this baby was born and raised in the Prime World. It should work just about anywhere."

The problem, of course, was that the motorcycle wasn’t really designed to move as slowly as a horse. Jason was a good rider, though. He coasted along behind the riders, only occasionally needing to add speed.

The Road linked the Netherlands to the Shard of Covenshire. There was no obvious border. The three riders simply passed buildings that were increasingly old, then crossed a bridge made of crumbling grey stone and corroded metal. Someone who’d never been to New York would never realize what had happened. Beyond the bridge, the road deteriorated to chunks of reasonably flat stone. Twisted, dark trees loomed up on all sides. The branches were thin and brittle. A pallor hung over the whole land.

When Gwenivere had to pause to get her bearings, Jason reached out to touch a rotting trunk. The Touch told him what he wanted to know. "He’s not using it all to feed his Shard. This wood wouldn’t even burn in the Prime Realm. It won’t burn very well here."

"What?" Colwynn turned back to face him.

"The Foundries. There were at least two in Covenshire, and the Coventrys have seized two more in New York," Jason explained. "With that much power I could... do a lot." He’d been about to say, "awaken mother and father," but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. That was something he was forbidden to speak of.

"And you are not a formidable Magician," Kildare added. "I would find the prize of four Foundries to be very tempting. A world with such support would be almost real, and almost totally malleable within its master’s hands."

Colwynn’s horse edged forward.

"Come on," Colwynn’s urgency was apparent. "We have to get moving."

Kildare nodded. "We learn nothing by continued speculation. Besides, these woods are infested. I can feel more of Alistair’s hounds. There is no point to an encounter with them."

The Circle Knight followed after Colwynn and Jason gunned his engine to catch up.

* * *

Key dreamt herself through the realms. In Covenshire, she found Gwenivere Valentine still trapped. Maxwell Duvall seemed to be following a trail that would lead him to her. The former Prime Worlder was in the grip of his Night Child nature, but another force drew him onward. Sabrina Lucas was here as well, within the city. Sabrina’s energy drew Key. There was now something alien about it.

There were others as well. Jason Valentine, almost hidden within the shadow of death, Colwynn, and the nearly overpowering sense of Roderick Kildare. There as another presence near them, one Key couldn’t identify, though she knew she’d experienced it before, and that it was dangerous. It seemed that almost all the key players had come to Covenshire, where her brother’s prison was hidden. His presence had grown slowly but inexorably stronger in the Prime Realm. Key considered that to be a bad sign.

"Curse it, brother. Why?" Key could not sense her youngest brother. The others were obvious, but trickery was his eminence. None of the others could find him if he didn’t want it. It had taken the entire rest of the family to bring him down after one of her brothers had managed to discover his location. If he awakened again, there’d be no way to do it.

Key followed Gwenivere’s presence. The Valentine mage had the best chance of stopping what was to come if she could be returned to play. There was little Key could do. In her present form her powers were very limited, even more so by the fact that her physical body was in another world. She’d have to think of something, though.

* * *

Elysia Coventry entered the Grand Facade as if she owned the place. For all practical purposes, she did, or soon would. The Facade stood on the Threshold. Due to the Thorn Queen’s Magick, it was the largest stable doorway between the realms in all of the City of Shadows. There were others larger, but none so permanent. The roses that grew in the rooftop garden had their vines in the Prime Realm but their roots deep in the Netherlands. Julie had been a promising student. She’d done well for herself since she started studying alone.

Elysia paused to admire the decor. A collection of murals decorated the foyer. Reproductions of pre-Raphaelite paintings hung on the walls. The furnishings were quite similar to those back home. Sighing contentedly, Elysia headed for the back rooms.

One of the staff attempted to bar her way.

"We’re closed," the boy said, well muscled beneath his black T-shirt.

"Get out of my way, dog. My errand doesn’t concern the likes of you."

The young man bristled at Elysia’s manner. Anger rose, providing Elysia an avenue for her spell. She touched the primal rage beneath the surface and flexed her will. The Foundry she now controlled gave her enormous power. With her thought, the world shifted around the Prime Worlder.

A small, black furred dog snarled up at Elysia from inside a pile of clothing.

The Thorn Queen, hearing the disturbance, came out to see what had happened.

"Little one, if you can’t control your pets, they’ll have to be put down," Elysia chided gently.

Julie looked at the growling mutt, comprehension dawning. "Elysia, what did you do to him? Put him back!"

"Careful how you talk to me, little one." Elysia’s eyes blazed. "Remember your place."

Under Elysia’s stare, the tattoos decorating Julie’s body began to writhe. The flat vines took on depth, and the thorns became painfully real, piercing through cloth and skin, drawing bright blood.

Julie fell to her knees with the shock. "Yes, mistress."

"Is everything ready?" Elysia did not release her spell. Blood continued to well from the wounds.

Defiance flashed briefly through Julie. She did not rise, but she looked up, meeting Elysia’s eyes. "Do you have what you promised me?"

Elysia laughed. "Of course I do. Have I ever lied to you?" She reached into a pouch and pulled out a vial of sparkling liquid, so gold it was almost white.

Julie sprang to her feet and surged forward, hands outstretched.

"Careful, pet. I might drop it." Elysia let Julie almost reach her before holding the jar out in her fingertips.

Julie stopped dead, almost trembling with tension. "Please, don’t drop it."

"You’ll get it back when this is all over. Now just show me the preparations." Elysia carelessly slid the vial back into its pouch and circled around behind her former apprentice.

"Yes, mistress." The Thorn Queen bowed her head and led the way to the club’s dance floor.

The large hall had been converted to a ritual space. The art had been removed from the walls, a pity in some cases, and the furnishings had been pushed out of the way.

Elysia Coventry stood before an elaborate diagram carved into the wood of one of the Rooftop Forest trees. Blood had flowed into the diagram and dried, marking out the cuts clearly. A semicircle of black candles burned in a radius around the drawing.

"What are you doing, mother?" Vincent had entered the room in the eerily silent way he had.

"Don’t bother mother right now, darling boy. Go play with your new pet. Mother needs to concentrate."

"She’s no fun. She ran up a tree, and now she won’t come down."

"Well, go up after her," Elysia smiled. "You’re very agile, and you’re at least as good a hunter as your uncle Alistair."

Vincent beamed under the praise. "You’re right, mother. Hey, is that a Dark Way formula?"

"Clever boy. Yes. I’m going home for a few hours to see what’s been going on in our absence. Everything should be fine here. Your uncle can watch things. I’ll bring your Grandfather when I return."

"Can I go play with the Knights while you’re gone?"

"No, dearest. We’re supposed to leave them alone for now. As long as they stay out of the trees they’re not important. I need you to make sure no one does anything untoward to the Foundry." Elysia stepped out of her circle briefly and kissed her darling sun on the forehead. He tilted his head back under her caress. "There’s a good boy."

Eventually she broke away and returned to her spell. The Darkways were cold, as always. She relished the feel of nothingness pervading her being, and the challenge of resisting the subtle call to join it. She stepped out of the other side of the portal in a house near the family estate. Father would not allow any of his children to have a private entrance to the homestead. Elysia maintained this residence purely for convenience. She kept her valuables elsewhere, since there was no way to really secure this place against her family’s intrusions.

The Coventry estate, however, proved to a disappointment. Lord Mordakai and his serving girl had ventured out into the city, to Master Elliot’s residence.

Poor Elliot, Elysia thought. He would never really earn the respect that his siblings had. The staff even gave Vincent the title of lord, rather than master, at least to his face. She ordered a carriage to take her to Elliot’s little shop of horrors and settled in to wait out the ride. She kept the curtains down to spare herself some of the smell of the city.

Gabriel Rider was waiting outside the factory, expression blank. Derdrie’s Magick was crude, but effective. One of Elliot’s ridiculous creations let Elysia inside. She found the others clustered together in front of a one of Elliot’s devices.

"You found an Oracle?" she asked, recognizing the design.

Elliot beamed. "Oh yes, Derdrie supplied the subject. She’s been quite amazing."

The subject, a young woman, was slumped in the chair bonelessly. Blood caked at her wrists and throat where she’d rubbed the skin raw against her restraints. Another trickle flowed from her nose.

"How soon will she be able to answer questions?"

"Tomorrow, I’d expect. It would be dangerous to use her again today."

"We wouldn’t want to hurt her, would we?" Elysia’s irony was wasted on Elliot, but Derdrie appreciated it.

Father, looking haggard, snarled from his wheelchair, "Is everything prepared?"

Elysia bowed her head. "Yes, Father. Elliot and I secured the Forest. The Witch had bound herself firmly to her Foundry, so I could not kill her without losing it. Instead, I bent her to my will."

"Sufficient. Her energies will be added to my effort when the time comes?"

"Yes, Father."

"And the rest?"

"I have a everything prepared exactly as you asked. The Thorn Queen," Elysia laced the club owner’s name with contempt, "was most cooperative, as you said she would be."

"I was certain the task would lay within your abilities. Now that your sister has acquired a key for us, we can begin." Dismissing Elysia from his mind, her father turned to his slave. "Anastasia, we are leaving."

Elysia fumed, actually having to close her eyes and will herself to unclench her fists. "I am pleased that you would think so."

Derdrie was insufferably smug. "We’ll accompany you, Father, if that’s alright."

"Yes, that would be... acceptable."

"I’ll be along in a moment, Father," Elysia said, but received no answer.

The white-garbed slave pushed Mordakai from the room with Derdrie following along behind.

Elysia watched them go, fury burning in her mind. The desire to destroy something welled up in her as fiercely as it ever took Alistair. Her anger was tightly focused. She wanted to hurt Derdrie. Her gaze fell upon the massive chair, and the helpless woman trapped in its embrace.

Whatever Elliot might think, the Oracle belonged to Derdrie.

"Elliot, how does your... contraption work."

Elliot, unsure of himself, never took well to any hints of inadequacy. "You... you’d probably find the theories fairly boring. It’s all rather technical."

"The theory is probably beyond my limited education, but I’m terribly curious. Do you think you could show me the process?"

"Oh, certainly." Elliot’s mood shifted easily. He scurried around to a control board and gestured at an array of dials and levers. "You use these controls to manipulate the flow of current."

Elysia crossed the room to join him. "How extraordinary," she breathed. "Like this?"

The lights dimmed as the generators howled under the protest. Elliot reached out to stop her, but it was far too late.

In the chair, the girl screamed, every muscle straining against the power flowing through her.

"No, you’ll kill her." Elliot tried to force Elysia out of the way.

The girl writhed in agony, and began speaking, babbling out a constant stream of words too jumbled to understand, though Elysia was certain they would have been fascinating to hear.

Elliot finally managed to get his hands on the power controls. The angry hum of the generators died away and the girl collapsed into the chair. She was still semiconscious, chanting a continuous litany in a language Elysia couldn’t even recognize.

"My, that was fascinating," Elysia smiled.

Another shriek rent the air, drowning out whatever reply Elliot might have made. Both Covnetrys spun to look in the direction of the great metal door, which was marred by a growing slash of boiling metal.

Fragments of the door blasted inward. A single figure stood in the smoking hole, waiting for a handful of breaths before striding into the room as a blur of motion. Elysia didn’t need to see his face to recognize Gabriel Rider. The blazing sword in his hand was more than enough.

The young man charged across the factory. His sword was a terrible presence carving through anything in his way. Two of Elliot’s servitors moved to stop him and were cleaved in half without even slowing him.

"What did you do to her?" the boy’s question was snarled to the room in general, but his burning eyes fell upon Elysia and bored into her.

She grabbed onto his anger, trying to turn him into something harmless, something that couldn’t hold a sword. The Sword of Glass would have none of it. The threads of her spell burnt in the air, destroyed by the Sword’s aura of power.

Elliot backed away, pelting out of harm’s way as soon as he was off the platform. Elysia was left alone with Gabriel’s fury.

"Gabriel, stop!" Derdrie’s voice cracked like a whip.

The Sword of Glass shrieked through the air, stopping a bare handbreadth from Elysia’s head. Hating herself for it, she had never been so grateful to hear her sister’s voice.

Gabriel Rider did not move. His entire body quivered with rage.

Elysia couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face. The light from the Sword hammered at her eyes. She would have ordered him away, or said something snide about his manners, but she couldn’t trust herself to speak.

Her father had no such reservations. "That was ill advised, Elysia. I believe it is time for us to go now."

Derdrie wrapped her arms around Gabriel’s waist. "It’s alright, Angel Eyes," she chanted. "It’s alright. Put the Sword away."

The Prime Worlder gradually calmed. Elysia could feel Derdrie’s Sorcery enshrouding him.

"Thank you, sister." she said. "I would have hated to have to hurt him."

Derdrie was having none of it. "Your idiocy might have cost us the Sword of Glass, and you might have killed my Oracle. Father, I don’t want to leave her here. I’m taking her home."

Elliot sputtered, but Derdrie cut him off with a venomous glare.

Mordakai smiled indulgently. "Very well. Your sister will accompany me back into the Prime Realm. You may join us when you are ready."

Elysia sighed in relief. If Father still wanted her in the Prime Realm, she was still useful. With Vincent to protect her, all would be well.

* * *

Key felt a stab of pain that echoed throughout the fabric of reality. She actually collapsed curling into a ball and whimpering until she realized the pain wasn’t hers. She would have sworn it came from one of her brothers, but he would be far from the struggle, safe in his study.

This agony emanated from within Covenshire. Key was certain of that. By the time she recovered from the shock, though, the impression was gone.

She had found Jason Valentine and the others. Now that she had them in sight, she stayed well back. Kildare had Arts that would allow him to see her if she tipped her hand.

"Immortality," Jason said.

"Perhaps," Kildare nodded. "By human standards he is incredibly old. How would he achieve it, though? I do not find the Green Witch’s solution to be within his character."

"Nope. Definitely not a treehugger."

Up ahead, Colwynn giggled. "Hurry up. She’s just over the next hill."

Bella reared, perhaps sharing her rider’s enthusiasm.

* * *

Derdrie had to almost completely sedate Gabriel. Every moan of pain from Sabrina Lucas brought an answering whimper from the boy. The Sword of Glass reacted as well, flaring in angry red. Derdrie had finally forced Gabriel to put it in the carriage’s luggage compartment.

The Oracle did not content herself with moaning, either. Bouts of painful coughing punctuated a sporadic stream of whispering. Whatever Elliot’s machine had done, the floodgates of prophecy were opened. The only problem was that there was no way to direct the flow.

"Chaos is coming," the girl said. "Pandora’s box will open, and all the sorrows will come out." She was almost singing, like a child’s lullaby. "There’s no hope in the box."

"So Father will succeed?" Derdrie mused.

"The key is near the box, but not so near... All the hope is outside"

"Key? There’s another way to open the Box of Sorrows." Another way to open the box, one close to it, might erode Derdrie’s advantage.

"Key is the key, like in the movie," the girl said.

"What key?"

"The girl with Gwenivere Valentine," Gabriel supplied. "She called her Key."

The Glamour on him was already dissolving. Derdrie delayed for a moment before restoring it. "A girl with Gwenivere? How curious. Tell me about her."

"She’s just a little girl, kinda cute. Quiet. She wears a key around her neck."

"Ah, then the key is some sort of Magick?"

Sabrina, still delirious, answered. "The key isn’t the key. Key is the key. If she is destroyed then all their coils are undone." After that, she fell into unconsciousness. Derdrie checked her pulse, and found it steady.

"But we already have another way to open the Box, so she really serves no purpose at all."

Derdrie smiled as the coach rolled home. Things were going well. The Oracle would recover. Derdrie was sure of it. If not, oh well. Derdrie already had the answers she needed. Yes, things were going very well.

* * *

"No guards," Jason said.

"Not human ones."

Jason hated it when Kildare did that. "Spells or spirits?"

"Spells. Derdrie has sown confusion. To cross the gates is to lose one’s mind. The packs of beasts outside will also be attracted by the Glamour. The only way in is through the front gate."

"That’s OK. There’s a carriage coming," Colwynn said.

The small company was hidden in a copse of trees as close to the road as they could get without being seen. They had a view of the gate, but not much of the rest of the house. Colwynn had been watching the back trail.

Jason turned to watch the carriage approaching. Even in the darkness, it was obvious that the cart was richly appointed.

"The mistress of the house turning in early?" Jason ventured.

"Perhaps. Whatever, it is our chance to gain entry. My Arts will shield us from notice. We must time our approach carefully."

Jason settled himself in the saddle of his bike.

"Leave that," Kildare ordered. "My spell will not hold something so large and inorganic."

"Killjoy." Jason dismounted and drew his sword.

The gates were thrown open by a pair of stunted, vaguely human creatures.

"Now," Kildare said.

* * *

The Youngest watched outside Derdrie’s house. Normally, he’d be inside, but things were getting very interesting out here. First of all, there were hordes of wild beasts bearing down on the house with murder at the forefront of their tiny little minds.

Lord Kildare’s spells had been perfect, of course. He always did everything perfectly, but the Youngest had taken steps. The puppies were getting bored out in the woods. Their master was off in the other world, and there was no one to play with.

That wasn’t the most interesting thing, though. What was really weird, and the Youngest had nothing to do with it, honest, was that one of the two horses Kildare and Jason had brought with them had methodically smashed Jason’s motorcycle to bits, then attacked the other one. The yellow horse didn’t do very well. Maybe if it had fought back or tried to get away or something it would have done better, but it just stood there.

The white horse was standing a little way off from where the other one had fallen. The yellow one didn’t so much die as shrink down to nothing. There was a cute little statue where the horse used to be.

The white one looked very smug. Obviously it didn’t know about the hordes of wild monsters.

These people were the most fun the Youngest had had since the dawn of time.

* * *

Gwenivere knew she was dying. The demon bound round her neck had cut off her power. Every time she so much as thought of a Magick Word, spikes of agony were driven through her skull. Even if she lay still and thought of nothing the demon tortured her, sapping her strength and causing pervading pain.

Sabrina had been taken some time ago, perhaps a day. No more than a few days could have passed, since Gwenivere didn’t have the energy to eat, and you could only go a few days without food or water.

The sad thing was that if she knew the name of the demon Derdrie had used, Gwenivere would be able to abjure it with five harsh words.

At that thought, the demon rose up again, turning Gwenivere’s blood to ice and her bones to fire. She curled into a ball of suffering.

"Oh god," she cried, but of course that only made it worse.

Dimly, through the pain, she heard the door to her cell open. She forced herself into awareness of her surroundings.

Derdrie Coventry stood framed in the door as two of her slaves carried someone in on a stretcher.

"I brought your friend back. Don’t worry. She can’t see how you’ve let yourself go."

Gwenivere forced herself into a sitting position. "Sabrina?"

The girl didn’t answer. She seemed to be breathing, but that was all Gwenivere could tell.

Derdrie laughed cruelly as the door closed. "We’ll be going now. I’ll say hello to Julie for you, since I truly doubt you’ll ever get the chance to do it yourself."

Gwenivere sank back against the wall. "Sabrina, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault."

"Kathizar," Sabrina’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

"What?"

"You’re wearing Kathizar, round your neck."

Hearing the name brought on a new wave of pain, but as her entrails grew spikes Gwenivere smiled in triumph. "You overplayed your hand, Kathizar," she laughed fragilely. A fresh wave of pain hit her so hard that she bit through her own lip. "That may have been a mistake..." she lost consciousness for a while.

"She’s right through here."

Gwenivere must have been delirious. That sounded like Colwynn whispering on the other side of the door.

"The guards won’t hear?" That sounded like Jason, and he sounded petulant.

"Nothing. Derdrie’s servants are very...limited. They are easy to beguile." Kildare, now. Gwenivere was beginning to believe she might be conscious. She never dreamed of Kildare.

Wood splintered and metal groaned under a series of hammer blows. That was another clue. Up until now it had been a very nice dream, but the sound of a door being bashed in was truly unpleasant.

"Nice to see she didn’t skimp on the doors," Jason was saying. He sounded a bit pained.

"Allow me." Kildare said something Magickal. Just hearing it gave Gwenivere another headache, but the Word he used caused the cell door to shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Hi, Jason," Gwenivere managed to say.

Colwynn pushed past both of the men at the door. "Gwenivere, are you OK?"

"Give me just a minute," Gwenivere gasped. Focusing her attention, she shifted into the language of Magick. "Kathizar, get thee to Hell."

Kathizar resisted, but she’d invoked his name. Her spell was ironclad. She felt the pressure he exerted relax all at once. The sensation was dizzying.

"Great," Gwenivere said once the world stopped spinning. Quickly, she took stock of the world around her.

Jason was standing at the door, looking nervous. Kildare hovered over the cot where Sabrina rested.

"Can it be...?"

Gwenivere got up carefully, still not sure of her footing. "I think she’s blind. Derdrie did something to her."

Kildare picked up the girl with remarkable tenderness. "We have to get out of here. Lord Valentine, aid your sister. Her ordeal has weakened her. Colwynn, lead the way. I will maintain our concealment."

Gwenivere frowned. Was Kildare powerful enough to create an illusion that large? Derdrie wasn’t the most powerful Sorceress alive, but she knew her stuff. Gwenivere would have trouble shielding two people from all the ways Derdrie had of finding them.

"I’ll be fine," Gwenivere said, only needing a little help from Jason to stand up.

Jason looked down at her, grinning. "I’m sure you were on the verge of escaping on your own. Let’s just get out of here."

Gwenivere could have screamed. He’d never believe she really was about to escape without his help. Curse it, she had the stupid demon’s name. The rest was just logistics.

Escaping was eerily easy. Whatever Kildare was doing, it was working. The staff just didn’t seem to notice that five people were walking out of the dungeons, even when Jason knocked over a vase on the way out.

Kildare looked at him vexedly. "Lord Valentine," he reproved.

"Oops," Jason answered with an utter lack of sincerity.

Gwenivere was walking on her own by the time they reached the ground floor. She filled the others in on what had happened, and they told her what was going on in the Prime Realm.

"So do you have any idea what we’re up against?" Jason finally asked.

"Not a clue."

"Um, I do," Colwynn interrupted. "There’s movement in the trees."

Jason knelt down to feel the ground. "More than twenty...somethings are coming this way."

"We must reach the horses," Kildare said. "Even with two riders, we should be able to overtake the

Easier said than done, it seemed. Colwynn led them to a stand of trees, but there was only one horse there, standing a little way off from the wreckage of a motorcycle.

"What the?" Jason was almost speechless. "What did your horse do?"

Bella looked on impassively. Whatever had happened, she was untouched.

"Bella? How did she get here?" Gwenivere walked up to the horse with her hand outstretched.

Bella snorted once, then tried to stave in Gwenivere’s head.

Gwenivere fell backwards, shocked rather than hurt. No one else moved. Surprise had paralyzed them. Gwenivere tried to back away, but she couldn’t get her limbs sorted out. Just as she was realizing that she had escaped from Derdrie’s prison only to die of a spooked horse, and that that was really stupid, something big and black leapt up and tore the horse’s head off.

The beasts were upon them. A pack of Alistair’s Hounds had seemingly coalesced out of the night mist. The small group was completely surrounded. Gwenivere stayed on the ground. She saw Colwynn raising her bow. Kildare lowered Sabrina to the ground and drew a sword from somewhere within his cloak. Jason was already moving to intercept the lead Hound.

The battle was joined in moments. Gwenivere tried to find something useful to do. She had no spell tokens, no weapons. As Jason passed her, he tossed a pistol into the air. She caught it and looked for a target.

Kildare’s sword was sheathed in darkness, actually hard to look at. It bit into the first Hound, and the thing's spectral flames dimmed. That was an interesting toy. He waded into the mass of them, driving them back by the sheer ferocity of his attack.

Gwenivere’s first shot missed her target. The pistol pulled to the left. She adjusted and missed again, nearly taking a piece of Jason’s leg.

"Gwenivere," he yelped. "There’s plenty of them on the other side."

Colwynn fired her bow into the mass of animals. There were two Huntsmen with the Hounds. One of her arrows found one of the horned warriors.

The revolver had only four more shots in it, assuming Jason kept it fully loaded. Gwenivere aimed at the other Huntsman.

The Huntsman fell, lost under the press of Hounds.

"This isn’t working," she said to no one in particular.

Kildare, sounding remarkably calm for someone fighting like a berzerker, answered. "The Darkways are our only hope. I have the capacity to open a Portal, but we need a destination. I can take us to any Chapterhouse in my protectorate. Where will we find the Coventrys?"

"The Facade," Gwenivere supplied, trying to line up another shot. "Derdrie said something about seeing Julie."

"Great," Jason said. "Anybody got a plan for pulling all these dogs off of us long enough for Kildare to get off a spell?"

Gwenivere had no time to answer. Two of the Hounds had pierced Jason and Kildare’s thin defense and were rushing straight at the prone form of Sabrina.

The battle cries of the Hounds were interrupted by a chilling howl as a dark, winged form descended upon the battle.

"Ok," Gwenivere said, "Who brought the Nightchild?"

"It’s your other Prime Worlder," Jason supplied. "I have no idea how he got here, though."

Max Duvall was literally an animal. He tore into the ranks of the Hounds with utter savagery, cutting a line through to Sabrina. The Hounds were cowed by his fury.

Kildare used the distraction well. He drove his sword into the ground. Gwenivere recognized it as a focus for a spell. What she would have plotted carefully, he did by pure will. The spirit he’d bound to his sword was released in a single service. Of course, Gwenivere’s way there wasn’t much chance that the person casting the spell would get bored in the middle and leave all the passengers trapped in the void.

She’d used the Darkways before, but always as pilot, never as passenger. Suddenly immersed in the darkness, particularly with her cheery thoughts about the relative problems of Sorcery, she began to understand why the Simonites didn’t like it.

She was very relieved when reality reasserted itself.

* * *

The last few hours had passed in a haze for Gabriel. He remembered something about Sabrina. She’d been hurt.

"Crystal," he asked, "Where’s Sabrina?"

"The treatment left her too weak to join us, Angel Eyes. I left her back at my place to rest. My servants will take good care of her."

That was good.

"Where are we going now?"

The carriage was moving down a stone roadway through the woods, approaching a bridge.

"Back to New York. The ritual Lord Coventry needs our help with is there."

"What will I have to do?"

"Long ago, the Valentines locked away a great source of power in a magic box. Your sword is the only thing that can open it. Lord Coventry will use the power to restore himself to what he was before the Valentines hurt him."

"Oh."

The carriage crossed a bridge into Manhattan. Crystal’s driver parked it in an empty warehouse where a limousine was waiting.

Gabriel helped her out of the coach and waited for her to enter the passenger compartment of the limo first.

The driver seemed to know where they were going. The familiar streets of Manhattan scrolled past the darkened windows. As the limousine slowed, Gabriel recognized the neighborhood.

"The Façade," he said.

"Yes. That’s where we’re going. There’s no live band tonight, but it should still be a good party." There was a dangerous edge in Crystal’s voice.

* * *

Derdrie brought her favorite plaything to the nightclub and found everything ready and waiting for her. The Box of Sorrows was positioned in the middle of the central room, surrounded by the paraphernalia of Magick. The largest Binding Circle Derdrie had ever seen had been poured onto the floor with molten gold, burning into the wooden floor. Fat candles marked all the key points, not yet lit, since their power was limited by their duration. Elysia would know what all the symbols meant, what all the diagrams did. Derdrie preferred simpler Magciks.

Father was standing, clad in an ornate robe of black silk. Derdrie could smell the aura of souls he’d absorbed to give himself the strength. His little cabinet must be almost empty. Of course, he wouldn’t need the vials for much longer. Anastasia was nearby, looking agitated. Father had replaced her leash and collar, something he had not used in several years. He held the chain loosely.

Gabriel followed Derdrie into the room.

"Ah, excellent. You’ve arrived." Mordakai Coventry was all confident strength.

"What do you need us to do, Father?" Derdrie asked.

"You, nothing." Elysia entered the room clad in a black robe only a little less impressive than Father’s. "Your pretty boy needs to light the candles, then we can begin."

So Elysia had managed to restore herself to Father’s good graces, or perhaps he needed a second for the ritual and she was really the best qualified. No matter, Gabriel was still Derdrie’s.

"Very well. Do as Lord Coventry directs you, Gabriel. I’ll be right here should you need me."

Father nodded. "Use the tip of your most remarkable blade to light the candles. Go round the circle widdershins. Then I will direct you in the opening of the seals."

Gabriel did as he was bid. Derdrie watched, curious, as the Sword of Glass ignited each of the black candles with a touch.

"Now, Elysia, place your hand over the first seal."

Elysia complied, a look of confusion on her face. "Yes, Father."

"Good. Now, Mr. Rider, upon my command drive your blade into the seal."

Gabriel paused before carrying out the raising his sword. Elysia, shocked, tried to pull her hand away, but some spell of Father’s held it there.

"Father, why?" she begged.

"Dear daughter, all Magick requires sacrifice. The Seals were placed in blood, and they must be broken in blood." Dismissing his daughter from his attention, Mordakai turned again to Gabriel. "Now, Mr. Rider, if you please."

* * *

The Darkway portal opened into the Chapterhouse, in an inner chamber, his bedchamber, Gwenivere would have guessed. Lord Kildare paused not at all. As soon as the portal closed behind him, he crossed the room to lay Sabrina upon the bed.

"You may arm yourself from my stores," he said to Gwenivere. "The Knights count several Wizards amongst their number, so you should be well suppl…urk." In the midst of speaking, the Lord Knight collapsed, clutching at his chest.

Colwynn rushed to his side. "Roderick, what’s wrong?"

"Sorcery," Kildare’s voice was strained. "It has begun."

To be concluded…

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Changeling Seed

A Novel of the Side World

The First of the Valentine Chronicles

Copyright 2000 David Goodner

Continued from Chapter 10

Changeling Seed Archive