Sorcerer's Secret (35 page)

“If you say so,” Abigail Hamilton said, though she looked dubious. Her father did not look hopeful, either. In fact, none of the council members, save Teddy, seemed convinced of their army's readiness.

“All we ask is that you fight with us,” Buckongahelas said. “As hard as we will fight with you.”

“Nicholas, may I speak with you?” Peter Stuyvesant asked, pulling his son aside. “Nicholas, you have to do something.”

“Me?” Nicholas pulled back in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Alexa told me how you've been searching for the right leader to inspire us, and how you thought Teddy was that man. Well, he isn't. The troops hear him talk about glory and bull like that and they fear he doesn't value their lives. And though it pains me to say it, I'm not the answer, either. I'm too dour. Hamilton is too divisive. No, there's only one person they all respect. You.”

“What are you talking about?” Nicholas asked.

“You recruited most of them,” his father told him. “They saw someone who wasn't a god, who could never be a god, ready to die for his city, and that awakened something in them. Some pride, maybe. A sense of being a part of something bigger. Youare the leader you've been looking for. Now go talk to your men. They need you.”

Peter patted Nicholas on the shoulder, then pulled him into an embrace. Holding back tears, Nicholas nodded. “I'll try.”

He climbed the ramparts, overlooking his army. The council members and the Munsee elders stopped talking as he began to speak.

“I am not a god,” he said. This caught the army's attention and they stared back at him intently. “I will never be a god. And I don't care. Some of you are gods, some aren't. Some of you are immortal, some aren't. But we are all a part of this city. We watch over it and keep it safe. That is why we are here. Kieft wants to kill this city. He is a murderer. He may promise riches and power and divinity, but all he delivers is death. And we are all that stands in the way of that death. And he knows that and he is afraid. That is why he tried to trick us at the smallpox hospital, to lure us into a trap. Because he is afraid of us. Because we belong here, and he doesn't. We are a part of this city, and he isn't. This city created us and loves us and needs us, not him. And when he comes here with his knives, the city will reject him. I know you're hurt and tired, but every stone, every blade of grass, every slab of concrete, every shining building in the distance wants us to win! Everything is with us! Can't you feel that?” The soldiers began to nod, standing up and clapping their hands. “Can't you feel how right we are? How wrong he is? He wants to tear down our home. And we are not going to let him! Who's with me?” Cheers erupted in the crowd. “I said, who's with me!” Louder cheers as the Munsees joined in. Soon everyone was stamping their feet. Glancing over, Nicholas spied the council members nodding, and even Roosevelt had a smile on his face.

“Nice speech,” Alexa said, patting his arm. “I hope you're right.” Nicholas smiled wanly as he looked out across the cheering crowd. He'd better be right. Or they were all going to regret it.

I
t didn't take long for Rory's small party to reach the dead end. As described in Adriaen's journal, a strange symbol sat in the middle of the wall. To Rory it looked like some kind of lizard. Hex did not hesitate; he walked right up to the sigil and put his hand on it, mumbling. After a moment a rumbling began to echo down the tunnel. Stones began to fall from the ceiling, and Rory belatedly remembered what happened next.

“Fall back!” Fritz cried at him, and Rory immediately turned and ran down the tunnel, away from the falling stones. The entire world seemed to shake as he fell to the ground, covering his head with his hands. Thankfully, nothing landed on his skull, and when the shaking stopped, he pushed himself to his feet and ran back down the hall to see if everyone was all right.

The wall had opened up, and the tunnel continued on the other side. Bridget was pushing herself out from under a mound of rocks, while Fritz rode Clarence out from behind a small outcropping. Hex had already started walking down the tunnel, and he turned back with an impatient look on his face.

“Come on,” he called. A sly smile spread across his face. “Told you you needed me.”

“You almost killed us!” Fritz scolded him, riding up to his feet. “Next time you want to do some hocus-pocus, give us a warning!”

“You got it, boss,” Hex told Fritz, smirking. Rory didn't like the magician's attitude one bit—but he also didn't know how else he'd have opened that wall. He helped Bridget, who looked no worse for the wear, to her feet and followed Hex down into the new tunnel. He heard Bridget muttering behind him.

“Didn't need no stupid magic. I could have run through that wall, too. Stupid Hex and his stupid magic.”

Rory smiled and walked on.

This tunnel felt older, with strange scribbles on the walls. Hex touched one, before pulling back with a hiss.

“Don't go near these,” he warned. “They're older than the Munsees, I'll tell you that much. Much older. But they still hold a great deal of power.”

Rory stayed to the middle of the tunnel, eyeing the strange markings warily. They looked like nothing he'd ever seen before—not pictures, not words, nothing. He was so busy studying them he tripped over something. Lighting the ground with his torch, he spied something white lying under his feet. He kicked at it, then backed away—it was an old, human bone.

“What is this place?” he asked out loud.

“Somewhere you don't linger,” Hex replied, walking faster. Rory, Bridget, and Fritz followed, moving as quickly as possible.

After a while, something strange began to happen. It started as strange sounds seemingly drifting in from the other side of the tunnel wall. Rory thought he heard someone crying, and someone else laughing uproariously. What was on the other side of the wall? Then he remembered Adriaen mentioning something similar in his journal. He'd simply walked past these sounds without incident—there was no need to worry. But then Rory saw something Adriaen never mentioned, something horrifying.

Three bodyless heads of ancient women were floating down the tunnel toward him. Their faces were ruined—Rory could see bone through their skin, their stringy hair fell out in clumps as they floated, and their eyes were bloodred. He froze, praying the heads wouldn't see him.

“Why did you stop?” Bridget asked at his side, worried.

“Can't you see them?” Rory whispered, avoiding the women's gazes.

“See what?” Bridget asked. Her voice seemed to grab the women's attention—their eyes swiveled in their sockets to fix on Rory, and their thin, cracked lips split into evil smiles.

“Yum!” one of them muttered, smacking her lips. Rory stumbled back as the heads made a beeline for him, mouths opening with hunger. He tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground as the heads dove toward him, ready to eat . . .

“Rory, what's wrong!” Bridget was crying, shaking him. The heads filled his vision—he could smell the rot on their breath and see their yellow, jagged teeth.

“Close your eyes!” Hex's voice commanded, and Rory was glad to comply. The last thing he wanted to do was watch himself get eaten. He curled up, eyes jammed shut, waiting for the pain to begin. But it never did.

“What did you see?” Hex's voice in his ear asked.

“Something horrible,” he replied, trying not to cry. Why wasn't he dead yet?

“It isn't real, Rory,” Fritz was saying by his feet. “There's nothing there.”

Rory didn't move, refusing to open his eyes. He could still see the ancient faces hungrily attacking him.

“Rory, none of it is real,” Hex said, helping him up. Rory opened one eye—the tunnel was clear.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Hex answered. “But it must only affect mortals. Which means you're not the only one who is going to have to endure apparitions.”

As if in response, Bridget squealed, pointing. “The dolls! They're marching toward me! You won't get me!” She began to punch at the air and kick with her steel-tipped boots at nothing at all. “Stay back, Beanie Babies!”

“We need to keep moving,” Hex said. “How long did Adriaen say they were in the tunnel?”

“A long time,” Rory replied miserably.

“Then the sooner we start moving again, the better,” Fritz said, before gasping. “Empty armor! Stalking me!”

“Come on,” Hex said, and walked on ahead. Rory grabbed his sister, who was still shadowboxing the air, and moved on down the tunnel.

He lost track of the number of apparitions that assaulted him. Everything from creatures out of his nightmares, to the kids from school, ghoulishly undead, threatening to eat him alive, to the Rattle Watch, overwhelming him with tales of despair about their losing battle against Kieft. Rory could barely take it, but he walked on.

From the sound of it, Bridget and Fritz were having trouble as well. Even Clarence had to be restrained from running headlong into the wall to escape some imagined predator. With every new ghostly attack, Rory's resolve weakened.

“How can anyone survive this?” he wondered aloud.

“You're being tested,” Hex replied.

“I don't know how much more I can take.” Rory averted his eyes from the sight of his second-grade teacher laughing at him as she chewed on a severed hand. She threw it at him and he shut his eyes, certain he'd feel the dead, clammy thing hit him square in the face—which it never did, of course.

“It looks like you won't have to,” Hex said suddenly. “Look.”

Rory opened his eyes and gasped. The tunnel had collapsed, sealing off the way forward. “No!”

“This looks new,” Fritz said, swatting at something invisible as he rode up to the cave-in. “Yeah, it definitely happened recently.”

“Did Kieft do this?” Rory asked.

“No,” Hex replied, inspecting the rubble. “I think it was probably the earthquake.”

“But Kieft didn't bring his treasure down here until after the Trap fell, so this cave-in must have been waiting for him, too,” Rory said. “Where did he go from here? Did he dig through?”

Before anyone could answer, Bridget let out a yell. She ran past Rory and hurtled herself, full speed, into the rubble. Unsurprisingly, she bounced right off, landing hard on the ground as some stones crumbled away to reveal . . . more stones.

“Worth a shot,” she mumbled.

“It was, actually.” Fritz pointed to the side wall, whose stones had loosened at the impact of Bridget's collision to reveal a hole. Rory stepped forward and pulled the stones free, uncovering a second tunnel.

“I guess Kieft decided to make his own tunnel,” Hex said, peering down the new passage. “It looks like he just blasted his way through with magic. Now, that is power.”

“Do you think he left any traps?” Rory asked, gazing down the new tunnel.

“Only one way to find out,” Hex said, climbing through the hole. “Coming?” No one had a better idea, so they all climbed through the hole, leaving the apparitions behind.

The going was much easier now that they weren't being constantly attacked by apparitions, but Rory was worried about traps, keeping his eye out for anything in the floor or ceiling. But it seemed as if Kieft thought no one could follow him, for it wasn't long before they arrived safely at another pile of rocks blocking their way. Pulling a few aside, they peered through a jagged hole into what looked like a storeroom. The room was old and dusty, with nothing but an old broom in the corner. A door sat in the wall opposite them. Bridget immediately climbed into the room, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” Rory called as they climbed in after her. “We don't know what's on the other side.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” she asked him, and turned the knob to throw open the door. Light fell on their faces as they stepped through, coming face-to-face with something they never thought they'd see down here.

“What is this place?” Rory breathed, gazing around in wonder.

“I couldn't even begin to guess,” Fritz replied.

The room they'd discovered did not belong underground. It stretched out in both directions like a long, opulent ballroom. Paintings lined the walls, flanked by lush red curtains. A grand piano sat slightly elevated at one end, its black finish covered in dust. Nearby stood a large, ornate fountain, light playing off the water inside to send shifting patterns dancing across the walls. Peering closer, Rory could make out small goldfish. How they remained alive down here, he had no idea. Gaslight torches lined the walls, flickering slightly; a few were crooked and one of them no longer burned at all. Above it all, glittering like a falling star halted only yards from hitting the earth, floated a magnificent glass chandelier. Three times as large as the piano, it presided over the room like a frozen sun.