August - Chapter Five

“Oh,” said Jeremy, his legs going numb. “Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit,” said Aggie. She looked as stunned as Jeremy felt.

Colin said nothing. But he’d gone sort of pale, and he shuffled over to a nearby boulder. He sat down and braced his hands on his knees, staring at the dragon that, apparently, they could all see.

“A little decorum, if you would,” said Guibert, all but rolling his eyes. He was closer to the dragon now, standing by its flank. When he looked at it, his gaze became fond, reverent. It sort of made Jeremy want to puke. “She is the reason you are here.”

“She?” Aggie repeated, bypassing shock and gunning for outrage. “Are you joking?”

Guibert shot her a glare. “Of course not. I would never joke about such matters.”

“Sorry,” said Jeremy, who really couldn’t feel his legs now. “I need a minute, before we start the whole explanation-thing.” He stumbled over to Colin’s boulder and sat down next to him, grateful for the solidity of the rock beneath him. Damp began to seep into the backs of his thighs, a further reminder that this was all real, that he wasn’t out of his mind — his mind would never have the ability to come up with something this insane.

The dragon hadn’t reacted to their presence. It was quite large, about fifteen feet tall at its midpoint and twenty feet long, and it had spikes rippling down its spine and tail. It had a long, narrow snout, its scales were muddy-brown in color and the size of Jeremy’s palm, and there were small horns poking out of its forehead. It was practically a textbook dragon, as far as he could tell, if there were such a thing as a textbook dragon.

In fact, the dragon hadn’t so much as moved since their arrival — it was curled up in a manner that vaguely reminded Jeremy of Mozart, and its eyes were closed. Jeremy assumed this meant that it was sleeping, but did dragons need to sleep? Mozart herself seemed to buy it. She didn’t seem spooked at all, but had settled on a small rock next to their boulder, her tail curled around her paws as she watched the scene in front of her.

Beside him, Colin was a reassuring and warm presence, even if he wasn’t really moving or saying anything.

“Do me a favor,” Jeremy muttered to him. “And give me some sort of sign that you’re still alive, okay?”

“Dragon,” Colin muttered back. “Fucking dragon.”

“Good, perfect.” Jeremy fumbled for his phone. Guibert was making moony-eyes at the dragon’s rear-end, so he seemed distracted enough for the time being. Jeremy quickly clicked into his voice memo app and hit record, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. If Colin noticed him doing any of this, he didn’t mention it. Jeremy took a deep breath and stood up. “All right. I guess now is as good a time as any.” He faced Guibert, trying not to wobble where he stood. “Explain why you brought us here. And why there’s a dragon. But that part sort of goes without saying.”

“And why you stole from a local small business owner,” Aggie piped up, dropping her backpack on the ground. “I’d like to hear that, as well.”

Guibert looked sort of annoyed again, but then he nodded. “Now is as good a time as any. I would normally offer you better hospitality in the monastery, but you saw the situation there. Besides, what I have to say does involve this one—” he ran a hand along the dragon’s haunch, “—so perhaps it would be best to stay out here.”

Jeremy traded a glance with Colin, who looked vaguely nauseous. Jeremy felt the same, nerves and fear threatening to get the better of him, but he forced his expression into something bland and expectant.

“Tell us who you are, first,” said Aggie.

“Very well.” Guibert straightened up. “My name is Guibert the Small, and I am the current keeper and head acolyte of the Ordo de Ardenti Corde, the monastic order so fortunate to call this piece of land home. I was born just a few miles outside of Dunsegall in 1814, to a destitute farmer and his very ill wife—”

“1814?” Aggie repeated, looking ready to smack him again. Jeremy felt much the same. “You’re saying that you’re over two hundred years old?”

“Yes,” Guibert replied, annoyance filtering into his voice. “If you might give me a moment, I can explain.” He gave them all a pointed glare and, when no one protested, he cleared his throat and continued. “As I was saying, I was born to a destitute farmer and his very ill wife, who died not long after giving birth. My father was offered the option of giving me to the Order, in exchange for absolving a large portion of his debts, and he accepted. I then came to the monastery, where I was raised in the tradition of the Order by two of our most venerable fathers, Gregory the Red and Samuel the Meek.” He paused, and his gaze clouded over. “They taught me all I know, reared me according to the acts of scripture. I grew under their watchful gaze, in the glory and mercy of the Old One and the Son. I helped look after the dragons, tended to them as, over time, they were willfully overlooked and forgotten by those who had once sworn to protect them. We guarded them, hid them from a world that was changing too quickly, too painfully, for their liking. And in return, they protected us, just as they always have. Their benevolence, their compassion, was all too kind, all too generous, for our own mortal souls.” Guibert put his hand to the dragon’s haunch again, and Jeremy saw real emotion in his face, in his eyes. “We can never repay them, though we do what we can to keep them safe.

“When Gregory and Samuel passed, some eighty years ago, the care of the monastery and the dragons fell to me and me alone. I did what I could, while petitioning the clan for the selection of a new postulant.”

A thousand questions were already tumbling through Jeremy’s mind, but this pushed him into even wilder territory. The MacLewan clan knew about this Order? About the dragons?

“I was met only with reluctance, even resistance. The chief told me that there was already a severe drop in the number of eligible young men due to the devastation of some so-called World Wars. He wanted to protect the few families that were able to survive, and could not bring himself to force the children with dead fathers into a life of near-solitude and poverty.” Guibert’s expression clouded over. “All this, when the clan had already ceased its support of the Order, save for a few meagre donations every year. But even that small generosity came with a price. The Order had to keep its silence, to hide, all because of the Accords of 1858. We could not approach families ourselves, let alone put out a call to the nearest mother-seat, without the chief’s written permission. And so, I continued alone in the work, doing what I could to keep the monastery afloat and the dragons safe.”

At this point, Jeremy would’ve given several of the toes from his left foot if it got Guibert to tell this story in a linear, uncomplicated way. But he had a feeling that would be impossible. “Guibert,” he said, “I very much appreciate all the details you’re giving us, and I would like to hear more about the Order and these dragons. But right now, I need you to skip ahead. We need to know why you brought us here, and what it is you expect us to do.”

Guibert seemed to only hear half of what he said. He turned back to the dragon, his expression doing that besotted-thing again as he stroked her side. “This is the great Amalga, the last of her kind. She is growing old, but she does what she can to protect this island.” He swallowed, his voice catching. “There was a storm, a few weeks ago. One of the worst thunderstorms in years.”

Aggie shot a glance at Jeremy, and he nodded, knowing they were thinking the same thing. That was the night of the Not-Kiss, when he’d been woken by a thunderclap.

Guibert continued, “Amalga was able to fend off the worst, but lightning struck the roof of the monastery. The stone crumbled, creating the destruction you saw on your way down here. I lost the chapel and half of my food stores. What is worse, the Order lost some of its most sacred relics.” He turned to look at the three of them again. “One, a silver cross with the effigy of the Old One at its base.”

Jeremy’s stomach turned over, and once again, he had the urge to sit down. He forced himself to keep standing, hardly able to believe it. Every question, every idea that his mom had only guessed at, was unraveling before his eyes.

“We also lost a vial of blood from Scimguar the Blue, one of the last great dragons from this island. The vial smashed, and his blood was lost to the dirt outside the chapel.” Guibert took a long breath. “Without that cross, and without more blood, the monastery cannot be fully restored. What is worse, without the relics and the monastery, the island is now more vulnerable than ever. Crops will begin to fail, the rain will cease, the rivers will turn brown and dry.” His hand dropped to his beads, his thumb pressing into the cross. “We are at a point of crisis, and I cannot weather it alone.”

“Okay,” said Aggie, before Jeremy could begin to pour his brain back into his skull. She had her hands on her hips and a crinkle between her brows. “Just to recap — you are the last living member of a secret monastic order that’s been on this island for hundreds of years. You’ve been looking after the monastery and the dragons for most of your life, but now it’s just you and Amalga. She’s getting old, the thunderstorm wrecked your digs, and if you can’t find a way to rebuild and get those relics back, the island is going to—”

“Go to shit,” Colin said, his voice low. He was staring at Guibert, ashen.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Essentially,” said Guibert, though he looked pained to admit it.

Aggie cocked her head. “Prove it.”

Jeremy blinked at her, and he wasn’t the only one. Guibert’s eyebrows scaled his forehead and he said, “Pardon me?”

“As far as I can tell, you’re either lying or telling the truth.” She swallowed thickly. “But we won’t know that for sure unless you prove it. If you can’t, I don’t see much point in helping you.”

Guibert’s cheeks began to redden. “Of all the insolent, disrespectful—”

“She’s right.” It was Colin who spoke. He’d regained some of his color, and he matched Aggie’s defiance as he stared down Guibert. “We don’t know you from Adam.”

“Fine,” Guibert spat. He stepped away from the dragon, clasping his hands together. “You young-people are so single-minded these days.” He cleared his throat. “You, boy. The ginger one,” he clarified, when Jeremy and Colin traded a look, “you’re a farmer, correct?”

“Yes,” Colin replied, frowning.

“Good. Then can you tell me the last time a wheat or barley crop failed on this island?”

Colin hesitated, but he answered. “Nineteen seventy-four.”

“And why did it fail?”

“There was a flood. A huge flood. The whole island had to evacuate.”

Guibert nodded. “And now, if you can tell me the last time a grain crop failed on the Isle of Islay or Jura?”

Colin hesitated again, and Jeremy suddenly remembered the conversation they’d had on Irene’s porch, covered in mud and sticky with lemonade. His stomach jolted and Colin said, “They’ve been losing about half their grain crop every year for the past five or six years.”

“Correct.” Guibert clasped his hands behind his back, looking every bit like an unamused kindergarten teacher. “And why do you think that is? If it weren’t for Amalga’s protection, this island would already be feeling the effects of changing temperatures. If she can protect your crops, what else do you think she can do?”

There was a brief pause, and Jeremy had to admit to himself that Guibert’s explanation did make sense. It would explain the way that nothing bad ever seemed touch the Isle of Rowe, that no crops ever truly failed, no rivers ran dry, even as the planet turned into its own convection oven—

“That’s convenient,” Aggie said. “We only have your word on that, and we can’t prove you wrong. But somehow, you managed to find us in the middle of nowhere, and you broke into the general store in spite of a lock, a security system, and CCTV. That’s not some story, that’s real. So how did you do it?”

Guibert frowned. “I used magic. Only a small amount, but, then, we are only capable of minor magic, whereas the dragons—”

“I want you,” said Aggie, “to prove it. Show us.”

“Fine,” Guibert spat, his patience breaking. “If you want something concrete, I’ll give you something concrete. But it will take me a minute.”

“Good by us,” said Aggie, crossing her arms against her chest. “Take all the time you need.”

Muttering to himself, Guibert went behind the dragon and started rummaging around at the other outer corner of the cave. He did this for about a minute, then reappeared, looking even grumpier than he had before. He had a handful of what looked like dried sea moss, kelp, and grass.

“What are you doing?” Jeremy said, curiosity getting the better of him.

Guibert didn’t reply. He went into the cave, just a few feet behind the entrance, and pulled out a log of driftwood. After dropping to one knee beside it, he began weaving the various fibers together, muttering under his breath.

Jeremy tried to hear what Guibert was saying, but all he could make out sounded like gibberish. Then he caught the phrase “flamma et salis,” and his heart skipped a beat — was Guibert speaking in the same strange mixture of Latin and Gaelic they had found in the book? If it was, it sounded beautiful spoken aloud, rhythmic and guttural, but fluid all the same—

“Jeremy,” Colin said, under his breath, “he’s got a knife.”

Jeremy snapped out of it and lurched forward. “What?”

“He’s got a knife.” Colin stood up, his hand going to one of his pockets. He slid his own knife into his palm, his thumb ready on the catch. Jeremy recognized it as the knife Colin usually used to trim barbed wire, and his heart thudded in reply.

Guibert stood up, still chanting to himself, though his eyes had slid shut in apparent concentration. As they watched, he turned around and made his way towards Amalga, reaching for her flank, and there it was, clear as day — a small, shiny knife clenched in his right hand.

Jeremy held his breath and watched, stunned, as Guibert placed his hands against the dragon’s side, bowing his head as he chanted. Then, in one sharp, sudden movement, he sliced one of her larger scales in half, catching the piece that fell away from her hide. He hadn’t punctured the skin at all, and she didn’t react in the slightest.

What the fuck? Jeremy wondered, as Guibert took the piece of dragon scale and tucked it into the braided fibers, which he’d placed on top of the driftwood. Guibert’s chanting picked up again, and they were all watching when, without warning, the wood and the fibers burst into flame.

All three of them took a step back, but Guibert took no notice. His chanting got louder and louder, and he stood above the fire with his arms outstretched, his eyes fixed on a point far beyond them, out on the horizon. Then, another flash of his blade, and in a quick, sure motion, he sliced his own palm, reaching over the fire to let his blood drip into the flames.

“Holy shit,” Colin murmured, inching closer to Jeremy.

Guibert’s voice got louder, and louder, and moments later, the wind picked up. The day that had been still and relatively calm suddenly began to change. Above them, the clouds darkened, the sky turning gunmetal grey as the wind howled. Within seconds, thunder exploded over their heads and a torrent of rain began to fall.

Jeremy, Colin, and Aggie scrambled to put their hoods up, fleeing to the edge of the cave and its protective overhang. Mozart joined them, her tail held high, and disappeared deep inside the cave. The storm was so loud that Jeremy almost couldn’t think. He could barely hear Guibert’s chanting, which had risen to a shout. But the monk hadn’t reacted to the storm at all — his gaze was still fixed on the horizon, his arms stretched out to the sky. The wind was spraying rain across his body, soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“We get it!” Aggie yelled to him. “You can make it rain!”

Guibert seemed to hear her, because he smiled, but he didn’t stop. Rain lashed onto the surface of the water below them, and Jeremy noticed something strange. The ocean was going flat, and it was pulling away from the shoreline.

“Oh,” he said, his face going numb. “Oh, shit.”

It happened slowly, and the storm was distracting enough that it was easy to miss unless you were looking for it. About two-hundred yards from shore, there was a ripple, and slowly, it began to surge, turning into a wave.

“Guibert,” Jeremy yelled, “you don’t have to do this! You can stop now!”

“What?” Colin bellowed in his ear. Aggie was looking at him, her face a blurred confusion of anger and worry.

“Tidal wave!” Jeremy yelled to both of them. “He’s making a tidal wave!”

“What!” Colin shouted. He grabbed Aggie and Jeremy by the wrists and dragged them away from the cave, towards a huge boulder near the edge of the coastal path that was easily twice their height and big enough to hide all three of them. They flung themselves behind it, hunkering down, and Jeremy turned to Guibert once again, barely able to believe this was happening.

“Guibert!” he yelled to the monk. “I think you made your point!”

But Guibert didn’t stop. He seemed to be completely out of their reach, fused to the rock below his feet, absorbed in the sound of his own voice. His face glowed with energy, and for a moment, he looked nothing like the middle-aged (or two hundred year-old) man he seemed to be.

Somehow, the dragon was still fast asleep. Jeremy guessed she was used to this sort of thing.

“We have to stop him!” Aggie yelled to Jeremy.

“I don’t want to hurt him!” Jeremy yelled back, wiping at his glasses as the rain threatened to blind him.

“I don’t care!” Aggie screamed. “We can’t be the ones responsible for a tidal wave hitting this island because a maniac had to prove a point!”

She was right, because of course she was. Jeremy gritted his teeth and glanced at Colin. Colin was just as scared as they were, he could tell, but he was putting a brave face to it. Colin looked back at him, and only then did Jeremy realize that Colin was still holding his wrist.

Jeremy’s heart thudded painfully. Colin’s grip was warm, firm. He leaned back against the boulder and tried to breathe. “Okay. Follow my lead!”

He stepped away from the boulder, away from Colin, and the wind immediately forced him to bend in half. It was howling, relentless, like a tidal wave in its own right. Icy rain sprayed across his glasses, half-soaking his legs, so cold it was almost painful, but he steeled himself, facing Guibert head-on. The tidal wave was much bigger now, some fifty yards from shore, rearing so far above them that it seemed to swallow the sky.

“Guibert!” he bellowed. “I’m giving you five seconds to cut it out before we tackle you!”

His words cut through the air like a blade and hung there. For a few moments, the rain continued to pound the shore, the ocean continued to roar, the wind continued to howl, but then, just as Jeremy was getting ready to pounce, wondering what tackling a grown man would be like, Guibert went silent and let his arms fall.

Almost immediately, everything stopped.

The rain disappeared, the wind turned back into a gentle breeze, the clouds cleared, and the tidal wave collapsed. It hit the ocean with a smack and sent a rippling wave to shore, spraying a fine mist that tickled Jeremy’s face. Even the sun appeared, peeking out from behind a cloud, and the sudden light was dazzling.

Jeremy blinked at Guibert. The monk was nonplussed, brushing a few stray grains of sand from the front of his robe, which was now soaking wet. His palm was still bleeding, but he didn’t seem concerned.

“That,” said Jeremy, trying to get his breath to even out, “wasn’t necessary.”

“Wasn’t it?” Guibert replied. “Before, you doubted me. Do any of you doubt me now?”

Jeremy glanced at Aggie and Colin, who had stepped out from behind the boulder. They both shook their heads, mute.

“Okay, so, we get it. You can do magic. You can do magic that controls the weather.” Jeremy fought the urge to shiver. “If you were truthful about that, then I suppose it follows that you were truthful about everything else.”

“Quod erat demonstrandum,” Guibert replied, glancing at Amalga before turning back to the cave. “Shall I make us a fire?”

The fire that he’d used for his spell had shrunk to a few small flames on top of the driftwood log. From what Jeremy could see, the dragon scale and the woven braid of fibers had turned to ash. There was no sign of the blood, either.

“Sure,” Jeremy replied. “We need to dry out before we leave, anyway.”

Guibert hummed, disappearing somewhere inside the entrance to the cave. “I’m afraid I don’t have any tea!” he called out to them, his voice echoing inside the cave. “It’s not very hospitable, but what can I say? I make do.”

Colin and Aggie came over to what remained of the fire, still visibly shaken, though Aggie was beginning to look angry again, which Jeremy took as a good sign. “Are you guys okay?” he asked them, fighting off a shiver. He really needed to clean his glasses.

They both nodded. Aggie pushed her hood back, ruffling her hair, and Colin copied her. Jeremy noticed that Colin’s knife had disappeared back to wherever he was keeping it hidden, and he closed his eyes for a moment, thankful that nothing bad had happened. When he opened them, Colin was looking at him, his gaze steady but unreadable, and Jeremy tried not to feel anything about it whatsoever. Two unanswered texts, some weird, unhelpful corner of his brain reminded him.

Guibert reappeared, his hand bandaged with a rough bit of fabric and his arms full of logs, with Mozart right behind him. She looked ruffled but unhurt, and she sat down next to Jeremy before starting to give herself a very thorough bath. Within minutes, Guibert had built up a large, cheery fire that crackled and popped, its flames edged with blue as a result of the salt. “Here,” he said, gesturing to the logs that were too big to make it into the fire. “You can sit on these.”

Once they were all settled around the fire, their clothes steaming a little from the direct heat, Jeremy looked into Guibert’s face and once again tried to figure out if he was dealing with an insane person. Guibert met his gaze, as steady and unnerving as ever.

“All right,” Jeremy said, clasping his hands together. “You’ve proven your point. You aren’t lying about the connection you have to this island’s apparently fragile weather system. You aren’t lying about the dragons and everything they do to keep this place safe. So we can take you at word on everything else.”

Aggie made a low tch, and scowled when Jeremy shot her a glance.

“Yes,” said Guibert, ignoring her. His hair was drying in frizzy tufts that did nothing to make him look more sane. “You can.”

“Okay,” Jeremy replied.

“And I’m sure,” said Guibert, “that you have a few questions for me.”

“Yes,” Aggie piped up. “Do dragons really hoard gold and kidnap virgins, or is all a load of bullshit?” Jeremy dug an elbow into her side, but she didn’t react.

Guibert scowled, seeming to consider whether he should answer her. “No. They do not.”

Colin spoke up again. “What is it that you need from us, in order to get this place up and running again?”

“Manpower,” Guibert said. “And supplies. There’s only so much I can get on my own. And the relics, of course.”

“Right,” said Jeremy, his heart sinking. “The relics.”

“The repairs will be the easy part,” Guibert assured him. “We already have the stone, since most of it remained whole when the sanctuary fell apart. I don’t believe much of any of it will need to be replaced.”

“So you need mortar,” Aggie said, and Jeremy looked at her in surprise. “Or whatever you want to use as a bonding agent.”

“Yes,” said Guibert, clearly also surprised that she was cooperating. “I really don’t have a preference, so long as it is a long-term solution. I don’t want this to happen again in a couple years.”

Aggie nodded. “My mum’s done a few restoration projects around the village and in Glasgow and Edinburgh. She’ll know the best thing to do. And no,” she added, rolling her eyes at Guibert’s evident alarm, “I won’t tell her why I’m asking. Honestly, G-man, you don’t have to worry about any of us giving up your secret. It’s not like anyone would believe us, anyway.”

Jeremy thought of the voice recorder in his pocket and tried not to fidget. He could think of at least one person who would go practically catatonic if she found out about this.

“It’s all well and good to start planning,” said Colin. He still looked a little peaky, but color was slowly returning to his face. “But we haven’t thought of the obvious. This place isn’t exactly easy to get to. I mean, how far did we have to walk today? And we’ll have to do it all again each time we bring stuff, and I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t exactly fancy dragging a cement mixer up that hill.”

“I can help with that, to a certain degree,” said Guibert. “If Amalga’s feeling strong enough, we can transport you at least some of the distance back. But it takes a lot of power, and I’m not sure I could do that each time.”

Colin frowned. “Then we’re up a proper creek.”

“Maybe not.” Guibert stood up and walked over to the edge of the cliff. He pointed due north, to a spot that Jeremy could barely see. “There’s a natural harbor down there, and a disused path carved into the cliffside. It’s how they used to bring supplies to the monastery from the castle. I could rebuild the mooring, and you could take a boat up here instead. It only takes half an hour from the village, or so I’ve been told.”

“Wait,” said Jeremy, with a frown, “you used to get supplies from the castle?”

“Yes,” said Guibert, with a frown of his own. “Surely that’s just common knowledge?”

Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat, and he glanced at Aggie and Colin, who looked like they were doing some quick thinking of their own. He doesn’t know, Jeremy realized, swallowing a wave of sadness, he doesn’t know that he’s been written out of history. “I can’t sail,” he said instead.

“I can,” Aggie cut in, and Jeremy’s look turned to one of surprise. She shrugged. “My dad taught us. We’ve got a little fishing boat. I’m sure I could use it without anyone noticing.”

Guibert clapped his hands together. “There we are, then.”

From there, setting up the plan was relatively easy, and Jeremy listened to it all unfold as if from a great distance. Aggie and Colin seemed to have answers for everything — where they would get building supplies, how they would need to build scaffolding or jerry-rig a crane of some sort, the amount of food they could all bring Guibert to tie him over until his own little farm was up and running again.

“I don’t eat beef anymore,” he told them, “though not by choice. It’s difficult to butcher a cow on your own, let alone get the meat processed before it goes bad.”

“Right,” said Colin, who had been making notes on a spare bit of paper the entire time. Jeremy refused to think it cute. “What animals did you have, then?”

Guibert shrugged. “Couple of goats, couple of sheep, chickens, geese, ducks. Mostly poultry, and I milk the goats myself to make cheese.”

“How’d you lose all of them?” Jeremy said.

“Their paddock is behind the monastery. The storm knocked a huge hole in the fencing, so most of the animals were long gone by the time I made it back there. The ones that were left—well. They didn’t last long.”

Colin winced. “Well, don’t worry. We can start building up your farm again pretty much right away, if you’d like.”

They talked some more, and Jeremy began to realize the extent of Guibert’s self-sufficiency. His water supply came from a clean, cold underground spring that burbled up not ten yards from the monastery, running along a crude pipe to a sturdy pump in the middle of the kitchen. There was even indoor plumbing, and the residual heat from the cave system below the monastery kept the ground warm enough during the winter that the pipes never froze.

The forest supplied him with roots, fungi, and nuts. And, not only did he look after, butcher, and shear all of his own animals, and process all the fish he caught, but he used everything they gave him. Wool for his clothing — which he spun and wove himself — leather for his shoes, milk for cheese, fish scales for fertilizer and bones for needles, eggs from the poultry and meat from the aging sheep and goats. His vegetables and fruit came from the garden, which had taken a beating from the falling stones and needed some serious recovery work, and he even milled his own flour using a grindstone in the back of the monastery.

It was insane. But also quite impressive.

“As far as I can see it,” Aggie was saying, “the main problem is going to be time. This is a massive project, and both Colin and I work pretty much every day. We can’t just leave our families in the lurch, they’ll ask loads of questions that we won’t be able to answer.”

“Well,” said Jeremy, “maybe not.” He felt a blush threaten when they all turned to look at him, but plowed on anyway. “I’ve already got a cover, I can just tell my mom I’m doing farm rounds with Colin. Aggie, you can tell your parents you need to cut back on your hours because of A-levels, and Colin, you can tell your dad the same thing, or that you need to tutor me or something. We can be each other’s alibis.”

There was a brief pause, during which Aggie and Colin just stared at him. “You know,” Aggie eventually said, “that might actually work.”

“Good.” Jeremy cleared his throat and looked to Guibert. “How about we use the boat to come back tomorrow? We can bring you more food and do all those measurements Aggie was talking about.”

Guibert nodded. “That’s acceptable.” He turned to Aggie. “When you sail, follow the coastline due north. When you see a pointed rock coming out of the water, veer in towards shore. I’ll signal you and meet you down by the harbor.”

Amalga had hardly moved the entire time they’d been talking, and she didn’t move when they all stood up and began their goodbyes.

“Got some ham and Swiss,” Colin was saying, pouring what remained of his lunch into Guibert’s rough wool sack. “And some granola bars, fruit, crisps, and cookies.”

“Granola bars?” Guibert repeated as Jeremy stepped forward and did the same. Guibert hadn’t taken to the salami before, but maybe he’d feel differently now that it was one of his last options. “What on earth is a—”

“Oats,” Jeremy said. Aggie tossed in a couple more bags of crisps and a packet of turkey jerky. “Oats stuck together with honey, nuts, and dried fruit.”

“Oh.” Guibert blinked down at the sack. “That sounds… perfectly acceptable.”

Jeremy fought the urge to smile. They’d found a human-shaped time capsule. “So can you help us get back to the trailhead?”

“Yes, yes I can. Stand together, please.” Guibert tucked the sack inside the cave and cleared his throat, pushing his sleeves up his arms. “This may twinge a little. And whatever you do, try not to move.”

“Oh, good,” said Aggie under her breath, and she ignored the look Jeremy sent her way. Now was definitely not the time to push the monk’s buttons.

Once again, Guibert gathered the same assortment of dried kelp, seagrass, and moss. This time, he mixed in a handful of dirt, and when he cut away a small fragment of Amalga’s scales, Jeremy didn’t flinch. Mozart came up to him, meowing reproachfully, and he tucked her down the front of his windbreaker again, just to be safe.

Guibert sprinkled the ingredients at their feet, then picked up a small log from the fire, the flame blazing just inches from his hand. Then, with his eyes flashing and his figure rearing back, he began chanting.

It was the same garbled pidgin language he’d spoken before, but the words were different from the ones he’d used to boil the ocean. There was something slippery about his oration, something that snaked between the monk’s fingers as his hand swept through the air.

Guibert traced circles in the air, and at their feet, the dried grasses began to quiver. Jeremy felt a wind kick up at the back of his legs, buffeting his knees and his neck, and he fought the urge to grab Colin’s arm. Don’t panic, he told himself, and tried to swallow even though his mouth had gone very dry.

Guibert’s voice built to a throbbing crescendo, echoing around the stones behind them, and it sounded as if there were ten of him. The wind grew even stronger, tossing Jeremy’s hair into his eyes and cutting across his cheeks. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and he wrapped his arms around himself, clinging to Mozart. He had to see what Guibert was doing, but the wind was becoming stronger and stronger, forcing him to hunch over and clench his teeth. This was brutal, raw, astonishingly powerful.

Jeremy finally managed to glance up, and he saw Guibert’s face blazing with energy, his arms quivering as if he held the world in his grasp. Then, with a final shout, Guibert smacked his hands together, and the whole world went black.

Jeremy let out a yell, but it was swallowed by the wind, by a black void that surrounded them on all sides. He was floating, spinning, falling through the darkness. Don’t move, his mind screamed at him, and it took all of his willpower not to collapse, not to reach out for the others.

Then, a lurch. The ground reappeared beneath his feet, and Jeremy toppled into Aggie, who managed to catch him before they both went down. Grass, Jeremy managed to think, reaching for his zipper. Mozart tumbled out of his windbreaker, looking shaken and dazed.

“What the fuck,” Aggie panted, doubled over with her hands on her knees. “What the fucking fuck was that?!”

“That was horrible,” Jeremy groaned. His stomach was in knots, and his head thumped in reply. “That was the worst.”

Behind them, Colin made a noise of agreement. Jeremy glanced over to see him lying on the ground with his arms over his face. Red socks, he thought, then frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” said Colin, his voice muffled. Then, “Ugh, maybe not.”

“At least he was telling the truth,” Aggie said. She nodded at something behind them.

Jeremy looked up, and his head thumped some more. Some ten yards away was the same parking lot they’d left only a few hours before. There were a few more cars, but they were alone in front of the woods. “Yeah,” he said, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it, and, when he saw that his voice memo had kept recording the entire time, felt a wave of relief overtake him. He stopped it, and looked up to find Aggie staring at his phone.

“Holy shitballs, Jeremy.” She was staring at him now. “You got him on tape?”

“I think so.” Jeremy pulled up the memo and scrolled through it. It was just under an hour long, which fit the time frame, and the audio signature appeared to match their conversation. “I think I got all of it.”

Aggie shook her head, then smiled. “You’ve got some stones on you. I didn’t even think of doing that.”

Jeremy smiled back. “I figured we needed some kind of insurance, regardless of whether we ended up helping him or not. Plus, at least this way we know for sure that it was real. All of that actually happened.”

“What a relief,” said Colin, the words muffled by his arms.

“Ignore him,” said Aggie. “Do you really think it’ll come to that? Needing insurance?”

“I hope not,” Jeremy replied. “Last thing we need is a pissed off magical monk and his best friend, the dragon.”

Aggie nodded, and silence fell. Rain trickled down the forest leaves, birds flitted from branch to branch, a thin breeze curled in from the valley.

“Well,” said Aggie, brushing a hand across her forehead. “What happens now?”

“We need a plan.” Jeremy shoved his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker, feeling a bit shaky now that his adrenaline was wearing off. “And food.”

Colin slowly sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. His face was flushed and pinched. For a moment, all Jeremy could see was the boy who’d pulled him out of the ocean — bare calves and tangled hair and blue, blue eyes. “I second the food thing,” Colin said. “Definitely food.”

“Food it is.” Aggie clapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “You’re buying.”

By six o’clock in the evening, they were camped out in Jeremy’s sitting room, nose-deep in packets of fish and chips. Between them was one of Jeremy’s old notebooks, in which Aggie had already written several pages worth of notes and diagrams. Behind them, a fresh fire was blazing in the grate, because the weather had only gotten colder since they’d left the forest and it was difficult to warm up when all your clothing was half-soaked from a surprise monsoon.

“I still don’t understand how we’re going to rebuild the monastery with just the three of us,” Jeremy was saying, polishing off a chip.

Aggie rubbed her nose on the sleeve of the Nationals hoodie she’d borrowed from him, which was faded and well-worn from years of use. “Technically, it’s the four of us, with Guibert. And building the walls will be the easy part, the ceiling’s where it’ll get tricky. Rigging up some kind of crane will be the hardest part.”

“What are we going to use as a counter-weight?” Colin asked. He, too, had borrowed dry clothes from Jeremy, squeezing into yet another too-small shirt and a pair of basketball shorts Jeremy was pretty sure he hadn’t worn in years and might actually belong to Jo. The clothing looked ridiculous, and was, in all honesty, very unhelpful for Jeremy’s imagination, especially when he was still mad at Colin.

“There are some big slabs of rock,” Aggie said. “Or maybe a tree? If we can get the dragon to help us—” She broke off, staring at the chip she’d just plucked out of the tin foil. “Those words really just came out of my mouth, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Jeremy, guiding the hand holding the chip to her mouth. “They did.”

“It’s a big job,” Colin said. “You think we can have it done before school?”

“Call if wishful thinking, but yeah.” Aggie went in for another chip. “And Guibert needs it done just as quickly as we do, I’m sure he’ll do whatever it takes to help us out.”

Jeremy nodded along with Colin, staring down at his food. Mozart was curled up behind him on the sofa, dead asleep on a full belly, and purring so quietly he could barely hear her over the fire. He was glad that she was okay after everything they’d been through that afternoon, but it was difficult for him to accept that Guibert had played a part in getting her into his life. Something about that was just so pointed and conniving that it felt a little creepy.

But they had much more pressing things to worry about.

“I have to be honest,” Aggie said, “I don’t really like that we’re using each other as alibis. Feels a bit like building a house out of twigs.”

“I know what you mean,” Jeremy replied. “I just can’t think of a better way. Can you?”

The others were silent, and Jeremy ate the last piece of his fish. It would be a tricky situation, to say the least, and probably (definitely) the most disobedient thing he’d ever done. He couldn't speak for Aggie or Colin, but he had a feeling they would be in similar situations.

Unless, of course, he was honest with his mom. If he fessed up and told her everything they’d learned, about the monastery, about Guibert, the dragon, all of it. A part of Jeremy wanted to more than anything — to loop her in, to show her that everything she’d studied, everything she’d only guessed about, was real, and provable.

But he couldn’t do that without the others’ permission, at least not in good conscience. So far, one of the few things they’d agreed on was to keep this a secret from the adults for as long as possible. Part of this came from a desire to protect Guibert, who clearly didn’t know that the clan had done their best to suppress any public knowledge of the Order for a very long time. They weren’t sure how he’d react to finding out about it, either — if he’d be willing to work with them knowing that he would still be stuck in a space of silence by the end of it.

It was strange, feeling protective of someone they’d met less than twelve hours before, but, Jeremy supposed, it wasn’t like they had any other choice. If Guibert could summon a tidal wave at the drop of a hat, there was no telling what else he could do.

“It’s going to have to be airtight,” Aggie was saying. “We need to have our stories planned out in advance so we can’t get caught.”

“I think we can handle it,” Jeremy told her. “Besides, our parents trust us, and it’s not like we’ve spent the whole summer sitting on our asses. They know we spend most of the day outside. And that’s what we’ll be doing, just not in any of our usual places.”

“That’s true.”

“What about people seeing us in the boat?” said Colin. He’d polished off his second order of fish and chips and was staring down at the notes. “Won’t there be questions? You aren’t exactly a frequent fisher, Eggie. Nor’m I, I suppose.”

Jeremy sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “You’re right.” His gaze drifted to the window, where the ocean was rolling into shore beneath the muggy gloom. The waves were small, calmer than he would’ve expected for the weather, and tinged with a purplish hue that carried the faintest echo of sunshine. Then, suddenly, the idea hit him. “What if you came in here?”

Aggie frowned at him. “Sorry?”

“We could bring the building supplies here,” Jeremy said, “and load them up out on the beach instead of at the harbor. Colin and I could even wait here for you so it didn’t look like we were all going together, and you could keep the boat here between trips.”

Aggie followed his gaze to the shoreline and went a bit pale. “You’re putting a lot of faith in my very basic sailing abilities.”

“It’s actually a good idea,” said Colin, sounding surprised. Jeremy tried not to take it personally. “There’s a natural harbor at the end of the lane, Eggie — you wouldn’t have to land on the beach.”

“Okay,” said Aggie, though she still looked unconvinced. “We’ll need a way to keep everything out of sight, so your mum doesn’t get wise, Jeremy.”

“Not a problem,” he said, his mind elsewhere. “She has so much tunnel vision right now I don’t think she’d notice if I put a cement mixer in the middle of the kitchen. Didn’t Guibert mention something about getting supplies from the castle back in the day?”

“Yeah,” said Colin, and Aggie nodded.

“Does the castle have a harbor?”

Colin thought for a moment, then frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But my cottage does.” Jeremy swallowed, his vision going blurry. “D’you think—?”

“That would be one hell of a coincidence,” said Aggie quickly.

“It would.” Jeremy’s pulse throbbed in his throat. “But after the day we’ve had, how can we ignore it?”

“What does that mean?” Aggie said, her voice hushed. “Does it mean that whoever used to live here—”

“Must’ve worked for the Order,” Colin finished for her, his voice dropping as well, as if the cottage could overhear them. “And the clan. Both, at the same time.”

Before they could react to this, the front door banged open and Jeremy’s mom called out, “Hi! I can smell a fire, so somebody better be home!”

Jeremy’s heart leaped into his throat. He and Aggie stared at each other for a split second before they fell on the pile of notes and started shoving it under the sofa. “We’re in here, mom!”

“Hiya, Ms. Lefebre!” Colin called to her, his voice sounding normal even as he looked panicked. “Hope you don’t mind—”

“Is that Colin?” Rochelle laughed. There came a series of thuds — her purse and boots hitting the floor, followed by her coat on the rack. “I should’ve guessed. Are you boys hungry?”

Jeremy, busy trying to yank a piece of paper out from where it’d gotten caught between floorboards, glanced at the spent fish n’ chips wrappers. “No!”

“Yes!” Colin caught his gaze and had the grace to look sheepish.

“Are you kidding me?” Aggie hissed at Colin, reaching over to give him a smack. “This is not the time—”

Suddenly, the sitting room door opened and Jeremy’s mom appeared. She took them all in with a glance — Jeremy and Aggie sitting back against the sofa, Colin lying on his stomach next to the fire, the absolute picture of relaxation — and smiled. “Hi, Aggie, I didn’t know you were here!”

“Hi, Ms. Lefebre.” Aggie smiled back. “Hope you don’t mind, we all got caught in the rain and Jeremy invited us over—”

“Not at all!” Rochelle noticed the fish n’ chips wrappers and snorted. “Was that dinner or a late lunch?”

“Both?” Jeremy said, hoping his blush wasn’t obvious. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi.” She shot him a look that plainly read, Why are you being weird? “I thought you said you were hungry, Col?”

“I, uh.” It was Colin’s turn to blush now, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes, I suppose I did, ma’am.”

Rochelle laughed. “Not surprised. How about I whip something up, and tell you guys everything I was able to get out of the book today?”

“Sure,” said Jeremy, and as he returned his mom’s smile, he realized that keeping this secret from her might be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.