Edna and the children came out from behind the topiary and rejoined the familiars. The tremor hawks remained tied up in the canopy cover.
Aldwyn could see by the look on Edna’s face that she was deeply unsettled. She stared blankly at the garden fountain, which was no longer flowing. Dalton was watching the topiaries, which were now motionless, standing as still as any common shrub. Jack’s attention was on the sky.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a pillar of grey smoke that was rising into the blue in the distance.
Curious and with a growing sense of dread, Aldwyn hurried to the hedge wall and scaled it. From the top, he surveyed the Vastian countryside. It was worse than he had feared: the enchanted dam that stood beyond Black Ivy Manor was gone, and water from the lake above had flooded the grazing fields. Cows and horse carts drifted aimlessly, while fish swam in and around stalks of corn. Further in the distance, the floating torches of Bronzhaven, which were always magically held aloft as a symbol of Queen Loranella’s great power, had fallen, igniting the palace walls. And lightning storms and thunderclouds, normally held at bay by the queen’s weather-binding spells, were forming over the lush green hills to the south, moving in on the great expanse of plains west of the Yennep Mountains and east of the Ebs River. This stretch of grassland, once known for its tranquillity and peacefulness, was in ruins.
Aldwyn felt his stomach do a somersault for the second time today. But unlike before, it wasn’t adrenalin or gravity that was twisting his insides. It was the realisation that something terrible had befallen Vastia: all the spells and enchantments that wizards had cast upon the land had vanished. Human magic was gone.
“Have there been any reports of humans casting magic since the green flash?” Queen Loranella enquired of the council and the concerned citizens who had gathered in the grand hall of the New Palace of Bronzhaven. Not a single voice called back from the room – the only response was a shaking of heads and anxious murmurings.
Aldwyn sat in Jack’s lap in the back row of the high-ceilinged chamber, alongside Dalton, Marianne, Skylar and Gilbert. The six of them had travelled here with Sorceress Edna, who had received word of the emergency meeting from one of the queen’s courier eagles shortly after the disenchantment. By the time they had taken to the roads, most of the water released by the dam had sunk into the earth, so at least the group was spared having to swim to the palace. Instead, they made the short trip on foot, witnessing some of the profound effects already being felt by the loss of magic: the enchanted scythes that were responsible for chopping down the wheat and corn crops lay lifeless on the ground, awaiting human hands to manually use them; healing wizards were turning away sick patients from their doorsteps, unable to help them; and rock beetles were pouring out from the ground now that the bug plugs were broken – an unpleasant nuisance to everyone but Gilbert. While their old teacher, Kalstaff, would have surely kept his concern and worry hidden from his young pupils, Sorceress Edna wasn’t shy about sharing her own. “This is bad, very, very bad,” she kept repeating until they had reached the castle, whose walls were charred and smoking from the fires caused by the fallen torches.
Aldwyn looked to the front of the grand hall, where the queen was standing at the head of a long, crescent-shaped table, five chairs to her left, another five to her right. The men and women occupying the chairs wore different-coloured wizarding robes, all distinct to their local region. Each was accompanied by their familiar – ranging from the common pot-bellied weasel to the truly bizarre wall-crawling dingo.
“Those ten sitting on either side of Queen Loranella are the council elders,” Dalton whispered to Marianne. “They represent each of the ten provinces of Vastia.”
The room itself was grand, with high-vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, the largest of which depicted a swirl of silver dust rising up above the Peaks of Kailasa. Hundreds of notables had gathered to fill the benches that stretched in long rows across the hall. Wizards and non-spellcasters alike sat side by side, waiting impatiently for answers.
“The spirits from the Tomorrowlife have come back to curse us,” a voice shouted from the crowd.
“No, it’s an estriutus burst,” another citizen interrupted.
“I’ll wager my goat farm that those ore miners in Kailasa struck a spell vacuum – sucked all the magic out of the world!” said a country villager. Aldwyn thought his theory even more desperate than the first two.
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” said Queen Loranella in a steady voice that was comforting in spite of the gravity of the situation. “This is neither a cosmic event nor an accident. It’s a purposeful attack, and a focused one at that: not all magic has been displaced from Vastia, only that cast by humans. And it is no coincidence that animals have retained their gifts. I am certain that it is an animal who is responsible for bringing this dispelling curse upon our land.”
Aldwyn knew just who the queen was talking about.
“Paksahara,” Queen Loranella continued. “A spell so powerful and encompassing could only have been cast from the Shifting Fortress. And since she stole my wooden bracelet, Paksahara is the only one with the ability to harness its powers.”
Aldwyn had been told of the Shifting Fortress, a secret tower whose location changed each day. From the top of the Fortress, powerful spells could be cast that affected all of Vastia. He knew that while under the control of the queen, the Fortress had been used to protect the lands – but he shuddered to think how Paksahara would wield its ancient magic.
“Well, I will not just lay down my wand and give up,” a bearded wizard called from the crowd. “I’ll defend myself with sword, and shield, and bare fists if needed!”
“Urbaugh won’t be the only one. I’ll be at my brother’s side,” said another citizen in the hall, who definitely shared a family resemblance to the bearded wizard. “Who here is frightened by a carrot-eating hare anyway?”
Defiant laughter briefly lightened the mood. They wouldn’t be laughing, Aldwyn thought, if they had seen Paksahara’s skills of sorcery or the coldness behind her pink eyes.
“Her spell will never hold!” shouted a townswoman. “This will all be over by the morning’s sun.”
These boasts, as unsubstantiated as they might have been, still seemed to lift the morale of the masses and rally the hall.
Queen Loranella raised her hand to quieten the people. “I’d like to hear what the council—”
Just then, what sounded like nails scraping across a mirror screeched through the hall. Aldwyn looked up to see the circular pane of stained glass – the one that depicted the Kailasa mountains – begin to transform. The triangles of different-coloured glass began to shift, rearranging on their own to form a different picture – that of the grey hare, Paksahara. The image smiled down menacingly on the assembled, and then the lips of the stained-glass hare started forming words.
“Question: What’s a wizard without magic?” Paksahara’s voice taunted them. “Dragon food,” she continued, as her nose twitched happily.
Dalton had to hold Skylar by her tail feathers to keep her from flying up, so spitting mad was the blue jay.
“Now, I’d love to take all the credit for this cruel turn of events, but you have Loranella to thank as well,” continued the face in the glass. “If it wasn’t for my old loyal foolishly underestimating me, I never would have been able to betray her.”
“I know how much you desire my crown,” said Queen Loranella, “but what good will it be if no one is there to follow you?”
“You may rule with the will of the people,” replied Paksahara, “but I shall do it under the fear of clenched paw.”
“When