The Magic Trick (The Card Game #2)

Ch 31 - Parallel Personas

CHAPTER XXXI

PARALLEL PERSONAS

A boy Viktor's age was the first to poke his head out from behind a door. He had red hair and freckles and scared eyes, and from his foreign dress, Viktor knew he was one on the enslaved circus youths, though probably not one from Aryk. Aryk's lost babes would have a Russian look. Soon enough, however, other youths began to emerge from their cells, ones with pale faces, high cheekbones, and blond or brown hair.

"It's alright. We're here to free you," Romulus said. "We're here to free all of you. But we have to hurry."

The sight of two lowly serfs must have been reassuring to prisoners who had been hoping not to see guards, because word spread like wildfire. Within moments countless others were flooding out of their cells—Gypsy youths, lost children of Aryk, and of course, the devious circus leaders, whether they were French, Russian, African, or descendants of the ancient Druids.

"Who are you?" some of the leaders called.

"What are you doing?" said others.

"Where are you going?"

"What have you done?"

"Everyone calm down!" Romulus shouted over the dungeons' echoes. "This is your one chance at freedom, and we're going to lead you out of here—all of you!" Romulus turned to Viktor. "Now where are the Ghosts? What about Feliks and R.E. Kamdrac?"

Viktor shook his head. "Feliks lost a lot of blood—he's probably passed out. Kamdrac was weak too, and the Ghosts, well, they've been down here for so long that I doubt they can even walk!"

Romulus turned back to the crowd. "Listen up! We need everyone to help check all of these cells! There are long-time prisoners here—and they'll need your help to climb out of here! No one gets left behind!"

The circus youths seemed to agree and were about to spread out, but it was the circus leaders who dissented, exercising their old authority.

"No! No!" the Frenchman said, beating any boy or girl in reach with his cane. "Ignore those bandits! The lost will be left behind! You'll follow me!"

"You?" Viktor shouted.

The Ringmaster swung around. His long hair and grey beard were more matted than usual, but his middle was just as rotund, his face just as perverse. "Yes me! I'm the leader of this company. What does a bandit like you have to say about it?"

Viktor pulled down his scarf mask. "I say Roksana, Cappi, Dukker, and Arseni. Remember them? You kidnapped them! And I'll die before I see you steal another—"

Crack!

The Ringmaster whipped his cane across Viktor's skull, putting him on the ground. Romulus stepped forward, but dozens of circus leaders flocked to their master's side, the Daughter of Druids included. The woman's curly auburn hair hung in her face as she looked from one blood brother to the other, no doubt remembering them from the night of their circus poisoning.

"Disobey me and have your throat slit!" the Ringmaster said to his performers as he sauntered backward for the exit. "Only the Druids and I give the orders. Now, Louvel, Albain, find the Magician and kill him. The rest of you, follow me!"

From Viktor's view on the floor, he saw the Frenchman turn for the exit, but as he did so, a sword suddenly sprouted out of his back. The blade was then yanked out of his enormous gut, and the Ringmaster fell, revealing a pig Masqueraider in his wake. Other masks appeared in the dimness, ones feathered or fanged or beaked or stenciled with Venetian diamonds. They had found a way through the rubble. More would be behind them. Battle broke out like a thunderstorm.