Grip of the Shadow Plague

The satyrs and hamadryads withdrew from the gap. Kendra descended the gazebo steps and ran to Doren.

"Did they get away all right?" the satyr panted.

"Yes," Kendra said. "How awful about Verl."

"Nasty business," Doren agreed. "At least most of us made it back. The worst trouble came after a flock of dark fairies cornered one of the most powerful dryads. They changed her swiftly, and she went on to nab a bunch of us. I see the centaurs made it back." He nodded toward where Broadhoof and Cloudwing stood ringed by animated satyrs, grimly enduring the adulation.

"They were fast," Kendra said.

Doren nodded as he tried to wipe mud from his collarbone. "They can run. And they can fight. Cloudwing pinned a pair of dark satyrs to a tree with a single arrow. Broadhoof hurled the dark dryad into a ditch. Toward the end, a dark centaur showed up and forced them to retreat."

Broadhoof and Cloudwing trotted away from their admirers. Kendra gazed despairingly at the heavily muscled topography of Broadhoof’s back. If Seth survived the escapade at the manor, the brawny centaur would be waiting. Kendra wondered whether her brother might be better off as a shadow.

Beneath the tent with four other bodies, Seth breathed hot, stale air. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than his discomfort, imagining how refreshing it would feel to poke his head out and feel the wind rushing by as Hugo loped down the road. The day was hot and muggy, but nothing compared to the stifling atmosphere under the tent.

The morning had felt surreal for Seth, watching goats and deer roaming about the field, and groundhogs congregating in their camp by the pond. Grandpa had spent a good deal of time going over plans with a pair of horses and issuing commands to a strangely mobile pile of rocks.

Kendra had pointed out which goat was Doren, and had served as translator when they wished each other good luck. All Seth heard was baaing and bleating.

The entire scene around the pond looked so ridiculous that Seth had briefly wondered whether the milk simply made everyone crazy. But when the rock pile lifted him off his feet and gently set him in the cart, it was plain there was much more going on than his eyes could distinguish.

The cart jounced sharply, and Seth rapped his head against the side. Cradling his cranium, he wormed toward the center of the crowded cart, then rested his head on his folded arms, trying to relax as he inhaled the warm, stifling air.

For the first leg of the cart ride, he had been anxious, aware that dark creatures could fall upon them at any moment. But as the journey progressed, interference seemed less likely. The plan was apparently working. All they had to do was reach the manor without suffocating.

The uncomfortable tedium of the ride became Seth’s chief concern. Lying virtually motionless, his body slick with sweat, he pictured his face over the vent of an air conditioner, the coolness washing over him. He imagined himself gulping down a tall glass of ice water, the glass so cold it hurt his hands, the water so frigid it made his teeth tingle.

He was stretched out beside Warren, and wanted to make conversation, or at least exchange a few whispered complaints, but he had been strictly admonished not to utter a word. He resolutely followed orders, holding still and keeping silent, even choking back coughs when the urge arose. Meanwhile, the cart rolled endlessly forward. Seth slipped a hand into his pocket, fingering the dollop of walrus butter wrapped in plastic film. They each had a little, in case the time arrived when seeing magical creatures became preferable to deliberate blindness. He wished he could eat it simply for a sensation to divert his mind from his unfortunate surroundings. Why hadn’t he brought candy? Or water? He lamented to think of his precious emergency kit sitting under his bed. How had he forgotten to bring it when he had gone down the trapped staircase? He had jelly beans in there!

The ride became more jarring, as if Hugo were dragging the cart over a giant washboard. Seth clenched his jaw to prevent his teeth from clacking. The stuttering vibrations made it difficult to think.

At last the cart came to an abrupt stop. Seth heard rustling as Grandpa peeked out.

"We’re at the edge of the yard," Grandpa announced quietly. "As I feared, Hugo can go no farther. Out we go; I see no present threat."

Seth gratefully crawled out from under the tent, feeling validated that the others were at least as red-faced and drenched in sweat as he was. His clothes felt clingy and sticky, and although the air was not as fresh as he had hoped, it was still much preferable to the stuffiness in the cart.

Behind the cart stretched a weathered flagstone road, flanked by the remnants of old cabins and shacks. Many of the flagstones were out of place, and tall weeds throve in the gaps. The uneven stone road explained the washboard feeling at the end of the ride. Seth had walked that road before-he should have guessed!

Ahead of them, the road doubled back on itself to form a looping driveway that granted access to an impressive manor. Compared to the timeworn road and the decrepit shelters bordering it, the manor was in excellent repair. The building rose three stories, with four stately pillars out front. Climbing plants had invaded the gray walls, and heavy green shutters shielded the windows.

Seth gaped at the manor, taking in a ghastly difference since his previous visit. Now, hundreds of slender black cords converged on the mansion from all directions, entering through the walls, a few of them fairly thick, most slender and hard to see. The shadowy cords snaked away from the estate in all directions, many disappearing into the ground, some winding through the surrounding vegetation.

"What’s with all the wires?" Seth asked.

"Wires?" Grandpa questioned.

"Ropes, strings, whatever," Seth clarified. "They’re everywhere."

The others regarded him with concern.

"You don’t see them?" Seth already knew the response.

"No wires," Warren confirmed.

"I’ve noticed cords like this before," Seth said. "Connected to the dark creatures. It looks like all the cords lead to the manor."

Grandpa puckered his lips and exhaled noisily. "We’ve uncovered hints that the culprit was a creature who had somehow merged with Kurisock. And we had information that the apparition who haunts this property has some relation to the demon."

"What could the creature be?" Warren asked.

"Anything," Grandpa said. "When it merged with Kurisock, it became a new entity."

"But if it merged with the demon, how can it be here?" Dale asked. "Kurisock must remain in his domain."

Grandpa shrugged. "Best guess? Some sort of distant connection. Something like the dark cords that apparently unite the monster in the manor to the darkened creatures all over the preserve."