Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (12 page)

The man was at arm’s length from Simon when a small pop rippled through the air. Simon felt like his heart might burst at the sight of Nathan appearing a few yards behind the strange man, who spun on his heal at the noise.

“Another trespasser, eh?” The man held his staff in front of him. “We won’t be having any o’ these today.”

Nathan locked eyes with the man, then cocked his head. “Cynric,” Nathan said, sounding beleaguered. “Not now, okay? Not ever.
Ever
. Got it?”

An excited noise escaped the man’s lips. “Nathan?” Then the man was dashing towards him, momentarily forgetting Simon. Simon distanced himself from the gray bear, who rolled onto its back and promptly fell asleep.

The strange man continued to pat down Nathan, running his hands over Nathan’s face and shoulders. “Dogs and devils, Nathan. It really is you! It
really
is.” The mountain man seized Nathan in another hug, lifting him clear off the ground.

“It’s me,” Nathan said, finally stepping back from the man. “Honestly, Cynric, don’t you ever check the bulletin? I sent word.” Nathan crossed over the stone platform to Simon. “You didn’t let Grisly frighten him too much, did you?”

Cynric shook his head. “How long has it been? Five years? Five years gone, and you just pop back in, a leaf on the wind?”

“I said I sent word.” A troubled look spread across Nathan’s face, followed by realization. “Archmancer Sterling, well that figures,” he said, petting the large gray bear, who let out a large huff and stayed asleep. “Don’t worry, Simon, Grisly is all grumble and no growl. She’d sooner sleep than chase after you.”

“Is this one yours?” Cynric rooted Simon with a piercing glare. “Have you brought home
another
makeshift apprentice?”

“Apprentice?” Simon felt a small surge of curiosity at the idea. “You have apprentices?”

“Where did you think the Freemancers come from?” Cynric kept his eyes fixed on Simon. “Think they just pop up out of the earth, all trained and proven?” He broke his stare to look at Nathan. “Honestly, Nathan, I hope you know what you’re doing, bringing in another bit of odd stock like this.”

“He’s not my apprentice,” Nathan said sternly. “He’s my guest.”

Cynric’s eyes widened, his large face folding slightly into a smile. “A...guest? Well, then, I assume you’ve sought all the proper permissions from the council?”

“All in the notice,” Nathan said, smiling and leading Cynric away from Simon. The two spoke in hushed tones for a moment, each of them glancing back at Simon off and on. Nathan then lead Cynric back, grabbing his oak staff from him. He turned to face Simon head on. “Simon Warner...” he said, his tone formal and stately.

“You even remember it all?” Cynric leaned against Grisly, who snoozed softly in the morning light.

“I remember enough,” Nathan replied, then added, “don’t break my chain of thought.” He focused his eyes on Simon, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled again. “Simon Warner, son of our brother, son of our sister, and one of the Folk...”
Son of our brother
. Had Simon’s father been here? Something screeched loudly behind Simon, startling him.

Nathan held out his hand to stop Simon from turning around. “Eyes on me,” he whispered. Simon barely resisted the urge to look behind him, and Nathan continued. “I welcome you now, now and forever, to the realm of your people and the place of your home.”

“Home
,” snickered the Other Voice in Simon’s head.

The forest groaned around Simon. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him and waited for Nathan to continue.

“You forgot the swearing of allegiance,” Cynric said.

Nathan smiled. “Close enough,” Nathan said. “Let’s go Simon. We’re almost there.”

“Where?”

“Where we’re going,” Nathan said, tossing the staff back to Cynric and walking briskly past Simon. “Follow me.”

“There isn’t anything that way--” Simon’s words were cut short. Where a thick line of trees had stood, a new path had appeared, twisting and writhing further down the hill, leading deeper into the forest. Nathan was already walking down the path, about to follow the curving path down around a ridge and out of sight.

“Better keep up,” Nathan called to Simon before disappearing around the large mossy rock formation that jutted out of the forest floor. “Unless you want to stand guard and wait for the boogeymen with Cynric some more.”

The gentle huffing of the sleeping bear was all the motivation Simon needed. He made his way down the path, eager to keep sight of Nathan. He caught up quickly, and together they hiked along the path. As they moved along, something odd began to nag at Simon. The forest floor was gradually succumbing to a worn stone path. It was overgrown with moss and covered with leaves, but it was there nonetheless. The sky overhead had lost its bright yellow sheen, and clouds began to stretch into long, colorless sheets, washing out the sky to a dull, endless gray. Where birds had sung earlier, the air now was filled with a distant, quiet humming.

They continued deep into the forest. Nathan gripped his grimoire always, never taking his eyes off the path ahead. The moss and leaves receded, eventually revealing the stone path completely. Up ahead, the path curved, and they found themselves crossing a large stone bridge over an deep, silvery blue creek. The path beyond cut deep into a large rock bluff, revealing steep stone stairs carved straight into the bluff.

“Where are we going?” Simon asked as he climbed over a large dead tree that had fallen across the foot of the stairs.

Nathan paused a few steps ahead of Simon. “We have folk here,” he said. “People like us, people who should be able to help us locate Sam and rescue him.”

Simon started up the stairs, but Nathan held out his hand to block him. “Are they hiding?”

“They live here,” he said. “This is their home.” Then, after an odd pause, he added, “All our home, really.”

“Our home?” Simon asked. This was his chance. “Did my parents live here?”

A pained look crossed Nathan’s face. Finally he said, “This was your parents’ home. There is Warner land out in the woods. That makes it your home too. You look back far enough, almost every one of the Witch Folk leads back to here,” he said, his fingers unconsciously finding his way to the small silver ring on his right hand. “Some more than others.”

“Our home,” Simon said to himself. The idea was so strange. He had never thought of anywhere other than the Paw as his home, really. “Why didn’t Sam tell me any of this?”

“To protect you,” Nathan said. “He wanted better for you, he didn’t want--” Nathan suddenly stopped, looking down at the carved steps with a forced interest.

“Didn’t want what?”

“Simon...” He put his hands on Simon’s shoulders. “Not now. Soon, I promise, but not right now. You need to understand where we’re going.”

Frustration breathed inside Simon. His anger was not going to die off any time soon. His inner voice had suddenly started screaming for answers, and Nathan wasn’t willing to share what he knew. All these years, Sam had been lying to him, keeping him in the dark, keeping all of this from him. Magic. His past. His
parents
.

They were holding out on him.

Simon eyes dropped to the ground. “Why?” he said quietly. Angry tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away, blinking furiously.

“Simon...” Nathan said quietly. “This wasn’t to hurt you. We were looking out for you.” He paused. “We all were.”

Simon kept his eyes closed, drawing in breath after deep breath, clenching his fists until his knuckles ached. Finally his anger quieted down, replaced by a heavy sadness. His shoulders slumped. He turned back to Nathan but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. “We, huh?” Simon said. “I guess you all must have thought I was really stupid not to figure out any of it, didn’t you?”

“No,” Nathan said solemnly. “Now, look, Simon. You’ll get answers, I’ll see to that, but for now we have to focus on the monsters ahead of us, so to speak. Monsters now, answers later, okay?”

Simon lifted his eyes to Nathan. “Who were they?” he whispered. “My parents.”

Nathan took a deep breath. “Good. They were good people.” Nathan started up the stairs. “We need to keep moving. C’mon.”

Simon followed slowly, letting Nathan get further and further ahead of him as they made their way deeper into the bluff. Nathan must have sensed Simon needed space, because even when he looked back over his shoulder he didn’t wait to let Simon catch up. When he reached the top of the steps he waited, his eyes alternating between his grimoire and watching the woods ahead.

“Be ready,” he said as Simon reached the top of the stairs. The stairs had cut deep into the rock--by the time Simon emerged from the stairs they were far from the cliff face. The air was colder up here, and Simon shuddered as he gazed over the forest stretching out below them, watching the woods swell and dip all the way out to the horizon, every last tree and branch bathed in sunlight. Large hills swooped and dipped throughout the forest, and other large rocky bluffs sprang up intermittently, sleeping stone giants in the early morning.

More intricate patterns and strange words emerged along the stone path. The patterns and words were so bizarre that Simon thought they may have been carved by a madman, and all the while neither of them spoke. Nathan paused one last time to check something in the grimoire, then motioned for Simon to follow.

“The hall of your fathers,” Nathan said. “Welcome to Silverwood.”

The stone path dropped suddenly down, revealing the edge of a small valley full of activity. Nestled deep on the west side of the valley was a marketplace full of stalls, and past the crowds of people and the numerous small buildings was an impossibly large mansion. It must have had hundreds of roofs, all running at different angles into each other, and several in different styles. It looked not like the work of one architect but of hundreds, maybe thousands, as decades of expansion had spread the manor out until it was almost an organic growth, no different from the forest around it. Numerous wings of the manor ran in every direction, and thousands upon thousands of windows shimmered in the morning light. Simon tried to count the floors but quickly lost track, as it was almost impossible to cleanly see where floors stopped or started. Around the valley was an impressively tall stone wall, topped with iron fences decorated with gargoyles, and seven watchtowers spaced evenly along the perimeter.

“Here we go.” Nathan called for Simon to follow. “Don’t let anybody sidetrack you. We need to head right up to the main house.” Nathan walked to the main gate, giving only a brief nod to the guards standing there. Neither of them made a move to stop Nathan, so Simon fell into step behind him and walked briskly down into the valley.

The path to the large house was lined with oak trees, and as Simon followed his eyes scanned all the other activity around them. There were other buildings scattered across the valley, with people hurrying from one to the next without paying attention to anybody around them, let alone Simon or Nathan. No one seemed to notice they were there at all. Despite feeling like a complete stranger, no one stopped or questioned either of them as they moved along.

A small flash of magenta light danced in front of Simon, drawing his eyes off of Nathan and into a nearby clump of bushes. Simon glanced at Nathan, but he had not seen it. After a moment’s hesitation, Simon broke off from following Nathan to investigate. They were, after all, in a safe place, weren’t they? It would only take a moment to check out, then he’d be right back along with Nathan, off towards the large house, and no one the wiser. He followed the light to see where it had gone, but as he approached, the magenta light stopped bobbing, then disappeared entirely, making a small sound as it
winked
away. Simon stood dumbfounded for a moment when he sensed something coming at him from behind. An instant later Simon was falling, tumbling down into the bushes. He rolled over, expecting to see his assailant standing over him, but instead he saw only trees and the endlessly gray sky above him.

Simon scrambled to his feet. He looked for his backpack, but it had disappeared. The magenta spark
winked
in front of him again, bobbing in the air for a moment before zipping around a tree. Simon sprang to his feet, this time determined to catch it. Running around the tree he collided with someone, a taller boy with short, dirty blonde hair. Simon bounced off the other boy, landing on the ground with a loud whump, then small stretches of vine erupted from the ground and wound around his ankle and wrist.

“Watch where you’re going,” the other boy said. He was half a head taller than Simon and athletically built--he had the bearing of someone used to working outside. He wore ratty jeans and a brown hooded sweatshirt that had definitely seen better days, black fingerless gloves, and around his neck was a silver necklace with two charms--one the silver leaf of the Freemancers, the other a silver skull with red gemstones. The boy moved quickly, his blue eyes darting around, constantly counting the variables around him. He held Simon’s backpack tightly, his fingerless gloves rubbing dirt and muck all over it. Looking at him, with his darting eyes and muddy-brown hair, Simon couldn’t help thinking of a fox.