The Boy Who Went Magic Read online

  Bert coughed. “Is that a smoke screen?” he said.

  “It’s better than that,” said the Professor. “It’s a signal.”

  “What kind of signal?”

  A deep throbbing sound that Bert had been vaguely aware of before now grew suddenly louder and more intense. He looked toward the ocean. A huge green shape loomed over the rooftops. It was an airship. The sound of the engine grew to a deafening roar as its shadow fell over them. The bow guns fired, sending clouds of blue smoke all around the streets.

  “That’s the Lugalbanda,” said the Professor. “My ship.”

  Bert was stunned. Even in the fear and excitement, he felt a sense of wonder stirring inside him. The craving for adventure that he’d felt as a small child came to life again for one brilliant moment. But just then he heard something behind them. A running figure appeared through the smoke on the rooftop, drawing a sword and making straight for the Professor.

  “Look out!” yelled Bert.

  The Professor spun and raised his guard.

  The soldier’s weapon fell against the Professor’s parrying blade, sending white sparks across the rooftop. The Professor twirled his grip over his head and attacked.

  The soldier ducked and thrust one sword forward while he blocked the blow with a dagger. His lunge missed the Professor’s stomach by inches. “Surrender,” demanded the man.

  Bert felt a heavy impact between his shoulders and tumbled to the ground. An officer grabbed and pinned him. In another moment metal handcuffs were forced onto his wrists. “Let go of me,” he shouted in panic. He realized with a shock that there were soldiers all around. They raised their pistols and took aim at the Professor. Bert’s heart turned cold.

  “Ready,” said the officer. “Shoot to kill.”

  The Professor realized the danger too late. He knocked down the soldier he was sword fighting, then turned to see the row of weapons trained on him.

  “Fire!” yelled the officer.

  “No!” cried Bert. Time seemed to pass strangely. He felt a wave of energy in his palm and heard the rooftop creak beneath him. He placed his hand down on the rickety boards.

  The rooftop exploded in a mass of dust and splinters.

  He fell through the hole and the soldiers tumbled with him. A rotten wooden board snapped beneath his back and he fell again, hitting beams and debris as he went.

  Then he struck the floor and lay still.

  More soldiers were running over the rooftops above. Bert heard the clash of blades, and a strange swishing sound, like something flung through the air.

  “He’s getting away,” shouted an officer. “Stop him!”

  Bert caught a glimpse of the Professor swinging on the end of a rope. The airship soared away quickly, taking him well beyond the reach of the soldiers. It looked almost peaceful through the gap in the smoke. Then the wind changed and the view was obscured.

  Bert was relieved that the Professor had escaped. But whatever elation he felt was short-lived. The soldiers were climbing out of the rubble around him.

  “We’ve got him,” said one of the men. “He’s in here.”

  “Put your hands up,” yelled a gruff voice.

  Bert glanced around and saw that he was surrounded. Men were climbing through the window of the ruined wall of the building, training their guns on him.

  He stood unsteadily on the crumbling wreckage, covered in dirt and debris, assessing his cuts and bruises. An upright beam seemed to offer a handhold, but a soldier pushed him away and told him to stand against the wall. “All right,” Bert said, raising his hands. “I surrender.”

  It seemed unreal. He thought back to his cozy dormitory at school, his collection of toys and magazines, the pillow that had grown shaped to his head, and then further into the past, to a vague memory of his home as a small child, someone ruffling his hair and putting him to bed.

  He wished he could remember them clearly, see their faces and hear the words they’d said, but it was like there was a barrier in his mind separating him from those memories. There was no familiar warmth to be found in the world anymore. The soldiers barked orders at him and seized his handcuffs. His stomach sank as they led him out into the sunlight and he saw Prince Voss standing with his arms folded. It occurred to him that he had made a terrible, irreversible mistake.

  Bert opened his eyes. It took him a moment to realize where he was, but gradually the details returned to him: the soldiers forcing him into the battle wagon; the rushed journey through the town with the doctor at his side; and now this—the bare prison cell and the barred window. His bandaged hand was encased in a metal glove and his ankle was chained to the bed.

  He remembered the words of the prison warden as they’d thrown him into his cell: “I hear you have had some luck as an escape artist. Let me tell you this: There is no escape from my prison. We have the best guards, the best reinforced doors, unbreakable locks, double rows of walls and fences, and we are surrounded by an impassable moat. Your cell is six stories up. Even if you could get through the window—which is impossible—you would fall to your death. You’d better get used to the idea of staying here, because the only ways to leave are release, or death.”

  Bert understood the hopelessness of his predicament. He knew the reputation of Grimwater Prison: the place where the worst criminals were kept. But he still had to get out. It wasn’t just that he was terrified of what would happen; he was determined not to let Voss win. The man clearly had some terrible plan in mind. Bert didn’t want to help him gain power.

  He raised his hand and tried to will the energy to strike at the door, but nothing happened. He didn’t know if it was the metal glove, or something lacking in his strength, but he couldn’t seem to create the same power anymore. He raised his hand again. He tried to make himself angry, jumped up and down, imagined Prince Voss standing there. Nothing worked.

  He rested his head in his hands and tried to keep down his despair. Even the air in prison seemed harder to breathe than the air outside. Every noise was harsh and threatening.

  There was a knock at the door, and the lock turned.

  “You’re to come with me,” said the prison guard. “Put your hands on your head while I restrain you.” He entered the cell and opened a pair of manacles.

  “Where are you taking me?” asked Bert.

  The man took the heavy metal from Bert’s palm, then snapped the manacles over his wrists and detached the chain from the bed. “You’re going to meet Prince Voss,” he said, giving the chains a cruel tug.

  It was obvious to Bert that the guards were afraid of him. But he sensed a deeper fear in the man’s voice when he mentioned the prince. The thought made him shudder.

  The man took him down the corridor from the cell to a room with a thick metal door. He unlocked the door and pushed Bert inside. It was a small, plain room. There was a desk, two chairs, and what looked like a tall case of files. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside.

  “The prisoner to see you, Prince Voss,” said the guard.

  “Thank you,” said Voss as he stepped out from behind the case of files. He was wearing a black cape along with his royal uniform. It looked like something an executioner would wear. Even in such a small room, he still had his sword strapped to his waist. He looked coldly at Bert for a moment before addressing the guard again. “You may leave us,” he said.

  Bert felt a chill. He wondered if Voss intended to kill him.

  The guard gave a salute and stepped through the door. The heavy lock turned with a clank and the room was sealed. There was no other way out.

  Voss gestured to the empty seats. “Be comfortable,” he said.

  Bert looked down at his manacles and wondered exactly how he was supposed to do that. But he took his seat anyway.

  Voss sat across from him. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  Bert wasn’t sure how to reply.

  “I’ve been reading notes on you,” said Voss. “Not that there’s much left after that fire destro
yed your school records.” He stared blankly at Bert. “I hear you’re an orphan.”

  Bert nodded. “I never knew my parents.”

  The prince gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “That shouldn’t trouble you,” he said. “My mother died when I was born, and my father, well—he doesn’t like me very much.” He looked down at the desk and clenched his fist. “Do you know who my father is?”

  Bert felt this was an obvious question. “King Eldred?”

  “Eldred, king of Penvellyn,” said Voss. “Not that it means much anymore. The old man is so weak he can barely get out of bed these days, and everyone knows that the government has all the real power. We just have a little money, and a little influence—and the odd prison. I suppose in a few more years they might get rid of us completely—for the sake of a modern, neater world.” He shook his head. “But if I could show them what a real leader could do, then perhaps they might change their minds. That would truly be something special, wouldn’t it?”

  Bert felt it was safest to agree. “I suppose,” he said.

  Voss nodded. “I know a way to get real power,” he said. “I’ve studied all my life to find a way of surpassing even the most powerful kings of Penvellyn. But there’s something stopping me.”

  “What?” asked Bert.

  “You,” said Voss.

  Bert felt a chill. “I don’t understand.”

  Voss’s expression darkened. “I’m getting to that part,” he said. “You see, you happened to interfere with one of my experiments, a very important experiment at the museum.”

  “I don’t understand,” repeated Bert.

  “Guard,” yelled Voss. “Bring in the doctor.”

  The door opened and the guard shoved a nervous-looking man into the room. Bert recognized him as the doctor he’d seen in his vision at the museum.

  “Explain it to him,” ordered Voss.

  The doctor looked confused. “Explain?” he said. His gaze fell on Bert, and he gave a start. “You’re—you’re the boy.” He wiped his forehead. “How did you activate it?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Bert.

  “Has the spirit spoken to you yet?” asked the doctor.

  “What spirit?”

  The doctor looked nervously at Voss.

  “Tell him,” said Voss.

  The doctor swallowed and took a few breaths. “That mirror you saw is an old summoning device, made in Ferenor. It’s supposed to bring a spirit, made of magic energy, into our world. It’s how the mages got their power, back in the old days.”

  The doctor glanced at Voss again.

  “Go on,” said Voss. “Before I get impatient.”

  The doctor wiped more sweat from his brow. “Spirits bond with a particular mage when they enter our world. They need the energy of that person to survive in this environment, and the person, in turn, gets some of the powers of the spirit. It’s sort of collaborative. They can even see each other’s thoughts from time to time—like they’re sharing the same space.”

  Bert remembered the voice he had heard back at the bank, and the strange visions he’d had. What the doctor said made sense, but he tried not to show any reaction.

  “We had the mirror,” continued the doctor. “The prince retrieved it from Ferenor, along with a lot of research about how it’s supposed to work. We thought that if we followed the ritual, the spirit would have to come through the mirror. And then we would be prepared to trap it before it bonded with anyone. Once we captured it, we could use its power—”

  “That part is not important,” interrupted Voss.

  The doctor paused. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said. He looked at Bert again. “The point is, we did everything we were supposed to do to summon a spirit, but it didn’t work. I thought that was the end of it. Maybe it was a myth after all. We kept the mirror set up with the capturing device in place, just in case something happened over time. But I didn’t hold out much hope.”

  Voss tapped his fingers loudly on the desk.

  “Then the mirror started glowing,” the doctor went on. “I realized that something strange was going on but we weren’t sure what. To begin with, I thought we might have been tricked by the spirit. There are stories about them being able to control people’s minds and alter their perception of reality. I thought maybe it had appeared but we just hadn’t seen it.” He rubbed his hands together nervously and looked at Voss for approval. “Then we heard about what happened to you at the museum. I thought, What if the spirit arrived, but not through our mirror? We hadn’t anticipated that eventuality, but I knew there was a mirror in the museum collection that we’d previously dismissed from our research. After I heard what had happened there, it seemed to make sense. But if the spirit came into the world without being captured, it must have bonded with someone.”

  Bert tried to keep his expression level, but he could sense that the doctor had hit upon the truth. Whatever this spirit was, he’d certainly seen its effects.

  “And there’s more,” said the doctor. “We might not have captured the spirit, but if we could find out who it is connected to we could still trap it in our world and use its energy—”

  “I had another question for you, Doctor,” interrupted Voss.

  The man flinched. “Yes?”

  “When you realized the boy had been affected by the mirror, why did you contact the pirate Roberts and give him a key to my vault at Hammerton National Bank?”

  The doctor turned pale but he managed to hold the prince’s gaze. For the first time, Bert saw determination in his face. “I see,” he began, his voice shaking. “I did that, Your Highness, because I know that you are planning to use the power of the spirit for something terrible. And as soon as I realized there was a chance you might succeed, I knew I had to stop you.”

  Voss’s face trembled with rage. He slipped off his gloves and Bert was stunned to see a shining metal fist where his right hand would have been. The metal was the same hue as Finch’s legs and the fingers flexed in perfect imitation of life. Voss suddenly slammed the fist into the wall, pulled out a chunk of stone, and threw it at the doctor. “Traitor!” he yelled.

  The stone struck the man to the floor.

  “Guards!” The door was hastily opened from outside. “Take him away,” roared Voss. “Execute him immediately.”

  A guard rushed in and began to drag the doctor from the room, but the doctor blinked and looked at Bert before he left. “Don’t help him,” he whispered. “The weapon …”

  Voss pushed the doctor from the room and slammed the door. He breathed heavily for a few moments and looked at the floor. “Why must there be so many traitors?” he muttered. He staggered back to his desk and replaced his gloves carefully, covering his metal hand again. “Enough,” he said as he stood up straight. “Let’s begin the real interrogation.” He took up a small, dark crystal from his desk and strode toward Bert. Something about the object filled Bert with dread. “This is an artifact I found in the Far North of Ferenor. Do you recognize it?” He paused. “Do you notice anything strange about it?”

  Bert didn’t reply—he was still shocked by what had happened to the doctor, and by the frightening power of Voss’s metal hand.

  “I’ll ask you again,” said Voss. “Have you seen the spirit?”

  Bert’s voice shook. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Voss sighed. “Very well,” he said. He held the crystal closer to Bert. It glowed with a strange green light. “Then we will try this experiment.”

  Bert began to feel uncomfortable. The mark on his hand burned and his arm felt cold. He looked down and saw an inky black stain spreading over his skin.

  “It’s working, isn’t it?” asked Voss.

  Bert winced in pain. “What are you doing to me?”

  “This is the final part of the puzzle,” said Voss. He stepped closer and held out the crystal. His face was set with determination. “That is how I will capture it from you, Bert.”

  The world seemed to spin. Ber
t felt the pain from somewhere distant as the coldness traveled up his arm. It was like he was leaving his own body. “Stop,” he said. “It hurts.”

  Voss didn’t seem to be listening. “Why doesn’t it appear?” His voice grew angrier. “If it needs his energy to survive, why doesn’t it try to protect him?”

  There was a long pause.

  Bert felt warmth returning to him, and when he opened his eyes he saw that Voss had taken the dark crystal away. His arm still hurt, but the black marks were receding.

  Voss looked down at him with obvious disgust. “Why would it choose you?” he said. “A weakling child? It is as if it wants to fail.” He clapped his hands suddenly.

  A guard entered and went to grab Bert’s marked arm, recoiled, and grabbed Bert’s other arm instead.

  “Consider this,” said Voss. “I am not without mercy. If you can find a way to assist me in capturing this spirit, we could be friends. If not, I will continue the same experiment from today, day after day, until I have it in my power.” He went over to his desk and tapped the dark crystal that rested there. “I have complete power over this prison,” he said. “It’s not just you that I can trap here. You should think of your friends too.” He gestured to the guard.

  The guard gave a quick salute and led Bert back to the door. Bert’s body ached, but the long gray corridor and the heavy metal doors seemed almost pleasant after the pain and fear of the interrogation room. He tried not to think about what was happening to the doctor. He couldn’t forget how frightened the man had looked, or the terrible suddenness of Voss’s anger.

  He shook his head and thought over what the doctor had said about the spirit. It was a lot to take in, but he began to wish desperately that it would appear. It seemed like his only hope.

  Bert’s cell was dark when the guard pushed him inside. He recalled the threat Voss had made when he left the room. He didn’t understand what the prince meant exactly, about hurting other people. He didn’t have any family to care for and as far as he knew the Professor and Finch had gotten away.