The young Groundskeeper Tomasar was nowhere to be seen. The journal was still with him—thank the Gods—as was the magimeter.
Leo pulled himself upright. It was freezing cold out here. He needed to find shelter, quickly. Ceri’s room was gone, but could the magic still be in that space? There was a tower in its vicinity.
Were the rest of the objects still there? He’d left the lighter behind, but it seemed that the dwarf that had started the fire had gotten it anyway. Perhaps if he went to the wrong place in the castle, it wouldn’t matter that the objects were within the fairy magic ward.
What else was left? If the doll had been destroyed—and it seemed like it had, judging by the skip backwards in time—it would be just the dagger and the horn.
And maybe the lighter, although Leo wouldn’t mind it right about now.
Leo entered the tower through a door at its base. On the way in, he noticed the yew: all of the heartwood had returned, and the diameter of the trunk had shrunk a small amount. It was still an enormous tree, but it seemed as though Leo must have gone back centuries.
Of course, the castle was a decent clue to that itself.
Leo followed a narrow spiral staircase up into the tower after pausing a moment at the lowest hearth to warm his hands. There seemed to be no one around, but Leo didn’t count on that to last.
There was a landing and another hearth with a single bed beneath the staircase. On the floor, Leo saw the horn, the dagger, and the bag of food.
He placed the objects back into the bag. He knew it was a risk, but if the world kept changing, he worried he might lose them.
Then he collapsed onto the bed. His lungs still ached from the smoke.
Groundskeeper Tomasar saved him from the fire. Had that been the way he’d gotten his scars?
Was this version of this place somehow connected to the past? It seemed impossible—not just because time travel was impossible, but also because this clearly wasn’t the full version of events. Where were all the people? Why could he see some and not others?
As if the world could hear him, he heard sounds from outside.
There was a small rectangular window that peered out into the courtyard, or the bailey, as it would have been called in this time.
There was smoke from beyond the dining hall.
Leo heard something tinny in the distance like sword fighting.
Itwassword fighting, Leo realized.
Leo opened the bag and measured the dagger.
Oh, yes. It was definitely the dagger’s turn.
There was still the spell. He didn’t know if it had worked before, or if it had been the fire that managed to destroy the doll.
He looked down into the bailey. The ground was covered with snow now, but he could tell the location of the spot he’d used before from the location of the yew.
He heard a crash and saw dust and stone go flying from the ramparts across the way.
The castle was under siege.
Leo grabbed the bag and the thin woolen blanket from the bed and ran back down the stairs, sprinting across the bailey with what was left of his energy.
He made it to the spot. He placed the dagger on the ground, and as he did so, the ground rumbled.
A battering ram? Leo heard voices shouting in a language he could not understand.
He tried the spell.
Then he tried it again.
It was no good. Nothing was happening. The dagger read as high as ever on the magimeter.
