Cirque Periculum

Chapter 17.1

Someone pounded on the door outside. Eve's hands shot up towards it, ensuring it stay closed.

"Eve! Is everything alright? What's going on?" a voice shouted from outside.

Evette's face paled. "It's Wesley. Find what you need and get out of here. Hurry!"

Connor threw open drawer after drawer until he found it. The skeleton key, sitting neatly in a box. He shut the box and grabbed it. Underneath he noticed something else. A stone tablet.

The little liar, Connor thought. He had the tablet the whole time, not Mr. Summertin.

He picked it up quickly. Mr. Summertin will help me stop him.

"Evette, open this door right now!" Captain Summertin bellowed, banging on the door even louder.

"Quick, out the window," Evette said, hands still facing the door. "And Connor. I love Wesley, but he has become consumed by this search for the mirror. Destroy the keys, do everything you can to stop him. Maybe then, my love will see the light and come back to me. Good luck, Connor."

Glancing up, Connor ripped open his backpack, shoved the key box and tablet inside, and grabbed the glass dragon for good measure. He threw open the window and flew out and straight up into the night sky. Captain Summertin's shouting faded as he sped to the edge of the island.

Sean's voice echoed through his head. The only way on or off this island is on the bridge. As soon as you hit it you'll have to walk, it's a no magic zone. And there are always guards right before the bridge, but you should be able to fly right over them and then drop onto the bridge when your magic cuts out.

Let's see if it'll be that easy, Connor thought as he sped across the field toward the bridge.

Captain Summertin's voice boomed across the island. "ATTENTION. THERE HAS BEEN A BREACH IN SECURITY. BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR A FLYING BOY. REPEAT, IF THE FLYING BOY IS FOUND, CAPTURE HIM IMMEDIATELY. ALL GUARDS REPORT TO THE BRIDGE. NO ONE IS TO CROSS."

I guess not.

Lights blazed to life and voices began to fill the air as people ran out of their cabins. Beams from flashlights stretched across the field. Connor dropped to the ground and began to run, pulling his own flashlight out and letting the beam run across the field. A group of kids ran past him in the opposite direction without so much as a glance. As soon as they passed, Connor leapt into the air and rocketed toward the bridge.

A beam of light passed over him, then backtracked. "There he is!" a voice shouted. Connor glanced back to find three kids flying through the air towards him from the other side of the field.

Sorry about this I guess¸ Connor thought as he lit his hands on fire. He flew higher, then focusing all his energy into his hands, shot a beam of fire across the field. The wooden beams and flags lit up immediately, and the grass soon followed suite. The three flying figures arced higher, but the smoke quickly caught up with them.

Connor raced ahead, and the bridge finally came in sight. A crowd now gathered in front of it, and two more figures floated above them.

Crap crap crap crap crap

Arms pressed against his sides Connor willed himself to go faster. How am I getting by?

Lights flashed at the bridge, and the two flying guards fell to the ground. The others on the ground began shouting and swarming into each other. Sean. He sure is risking a lot for me. Connor sped over the crowd and onto the bridge, and immediately let go of his power.

He hit the concrete hard, rolling a couple of times. His head slammed against the ground. Dazed, he struggled to his hands and knees.

Voices shouted in an angry chorus from behind. "That's him! Get him! Get on that bridge!"

Connor looked back to see a group sprinting onto the bridge. He stood up, disoriented, and ran the best he could. Voices shouted at him, closing distance fast.

What do I do? How do I get out?

Into the water.

Without a second thought, Connor leapt off the bridge, met by unnaturally freezing cold water.

"He's done for," a voice above him said.

Just then, Sean's warning echoed in his head. Whatever you do, once you're on the bridge, stay on the bridge. It's in the middle of the shield, and heavily charmed. Don't go in the water.

Aw crap.

Connor felt himself sinking deeper and deeper, much deeper than he assumed the lake went. He tore at the water, kicking himself upward, but he felt his descent quicken, as if he were strapped to lead weights.

Think Connor, think! There has to be a trick to this.

The water pushed thick against his chest, trying to squeeze the breath out of him. He tried to swim forward, and found that he could do so, but he sank deeper. Beneath him he couldn't see the bottom, but still he swam forward. Forward and down. Deeper. Tighter.

His lungs burned. Ahead of him, he saw a shadow looming in front of him. Giant. A giant wall.

The shore?

How do I get back to the surface?

Meridian's voice came to mind, surprising him. Today I'm going to teach you how to meditate. Close your eyes. Relax. You'll be alright.

Connor closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the freezing water and his complaining lungs. He stopped moving, relaxing his limbs. Slowly, a familiar feeling came from the meditation, but it wasn't from using magic. He was rising.

He opened his eyes, and a dark film broke above him. The surface broke, and Connor's lungs rejoiced with the warm air filling them. He glanced around in the dark, and seeing no one, swam to the shore, sinking only slightly below the surface as he went. He sat silently in the dark water to rise to the top again, and pulled himself on shore, shivering and coughing. Just to be sure he was clear of the protective spell, he crawled a few more yards away from the still water.

Finding a cluster of trees, he pulled himself into them, freezing. Glancing around for any sign of life, he pulled off his all his clinging clothes. Standing naked, he lit his entire body in a dull flame, dispelling the cold that clung to his bones.

I guess being a pyro has its advantages.

Still on fire, he moved closer to his clothes. He waved his warming hand over them slowly until steam rose off of them. Ceasing the flame and ensuring his clothes were dry, he dressed quickly and dried his backpack, pulling out the contents to ensure nothing was damaged. The skeleton key sat in its box, seemingly dry. The stone tablet was just as dry. The map and pictures he took, on the other hand, disintegrated as soon as he pulled them out, sopping wet. It didn't matter.

Repacking the bag, he slung it on his shoulders and tightened it against his back. He leapt into the air, soaring above the trees. The island of Camp Caute was alive with lights and faint sound just growing fainter as Connor flew higher into the night sky. In the distance, lights of a city twinkled. He'd have to go there to get his bearings. And food, he realized as his stomach growled.

Then I'm going to San Francisco.

***

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