Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(77)

Kendra kept an eye out for fairies. If she could recruit a few of them to act as scouts, it would improve their chances.


At one point, where the trees became sparse, the roc soared across the sky, outstretched wings temporarily blocking out the rising sun. A huge beast thrashed in its claws.


"Does it have a rhinoceros?" Kendra asked, shielding her eyes as the sun reappeared behind the gigantic bird.


"A karkadann," Bracken corrected. "Bigger than a rhino, with a sentient horn. Pray we don't cross paths with a karkadann out here unprotected."


"I have my sword," Warren objected.


"And I have my little knife," Bracken said. "Neither would avail us if a karkadann charged. What I need are my horns."


"How did you lose them?" Kendra asked.


Bracken hesitated, as if uncertain whether to respond. He broke his silence after a small shrug. "The Font of Immortality is fashioned from my third horn."


"One of the five artifacts?" Warren exclaimed.


"How old are you?" Kendra asked.


"From your point of view, ancient," Bracken said. "Among unicorns, I'm still considered young. I have walked many roads, and I have seen much, but I still feel young. Like fairies, unicorns are youthful beings."


"You surrendered your horn?" Warren asked.


"I was willing to do anything to help lock those demons away," Bracken asserted. "I gave my first horn as a gift years ago. Many of my kind do not retain their first horns once the third has grown. My second horn was taken when the Sphinx captured me. I have no idea what he did with it."


"He should return it to us," Kendra said.


"It would help," Bracken said. "I can feel my horns out there. None have been destroyed. Without them I feel like a shadow of myself. They house much of my power."


"Your third horn is irretrievable?" Warren wondered.


"If the Font of Immortality is ever broken, it will disappear and re-form elsewhere, taking the horn with it. That horn would be retrievable only should Zzyzx open. Without my third horn I'm trapped in human form, but I would much rather live this way than see Zzyzx breached."


They continued in silence. Several times they crouched or fell flat or hid behind tree trunks as Bracken sensed creatures in the area. Kendra glimpsed lions with the heads of men and scorpion tails. She caught sight of vicious packs of scaly flying dogs. She observed burly, armored nomads half the height of the surrounding trees, laughing loudly and brawling without provocation. But all of these potential threats were viewed from a distance. Many of the hazards Bracken detected were never perceived by Warren or Kendra. Their little group would simply hide in silence until Bracken suggested they proceed.


After hours of fitful progress, Warren squatted behind a fallen log to confer with them. With the sun now high, the day was growing uncomfortably warm. Ahead, at the far side of a clearing, Kendra observed trees with foliage of remarkable colors. "The Beckoning Grove lies ahead," Warren said. "The Sphinx gave specific warnings about this stretch of our route. To go around to the left would take us along the river-bank through a community of river trolls."


"They would consider us extraordinary delicacies," Bracken said. "We would be devoured with much ceremony."


"To loop around to the right would take us into the domain of the chimera," Warren said.


"Which would also mean certain death," Bracken said.


"And if we go through the grove?" Kendra asked.


"The fruit smells are unbearably tempting," Warren said. "All have harmful effects. Most are lethal. The Sphinx said one might liquefy your bones, another might make you a lycanthrope, a third might cause you to burst into flames."


"I'll take fruit over trolls or a chimera," Bracken voted.



"We mustn't succumb," Warren warned.


"We'll help each other," Bracken said. "Make up your minds now. No matter what happens while we are under those trees, no matter what cravings strike us, no matter what desperate urges arise, no matter what argument we make with ourselves, we will sample no fruit."


"What if the fruit overpowers our common sense?" Kendra asked. "What if we can't resist?"


"I might prefer the type of threat I can stab," Warren muttered. "In the grove our enemies will be ourselves."


Kneeling, Bracken scraped together dirt. Spitting into his palm, he mashed the dirt and worked it into pellets, then slipped two into his nostrils. He held out his hand. Kendra hesitantly took a pair of dirt balls and pressed them into place. Warren did likewise.


"I have to believe our wills are stronger than the allure of some fruit," Bracken said. "To be slain by a troll or a chimera would be sad. But to destroy ourselves to scratch an itch would be so pathetic I refuse to accept the possibility. The dirt will help you, and so will I."


"Good enough for me," Warren said, his voice a little different with his nose plugged. "Kendra?"


"Let's try the grove." She spoke like she had a cold.