Free Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders by Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian Page A

of her mother for ten years, and now she had to leave her family, her friends, and the place where she had grown up. And the old wizard seemed awfully frail to be defending her against the monstrous Master of the Bloodgraves.
    Tara turned to Chem, expecting something spectacular—like thunder and lightning and rearranged molecules—but he simply took her hand and they walked toward Besois-Giron Castle. Manitou followed, barking like mad.
    â€œConfounded Isabella,” he muttered. “Can’t even show she’s sad when saying goodbye. Gets on my nerves.”
    Tara said nothing until they reached the castle. She’d suddenly remembered what she had heard while crouching on the mantelpiece. Isabella had suggested—no, she’d ordered —that Fabrice go to OtherWorld. With a little luck, Tara would see her best friend there.
    When they reached the castle, the wizard didn’t bother ringing the bell. The gates opened all by themselves.
    â€œMagic?” asked Tara, very impressed.
    â€œNo, electronic,” he answered, pointing to the electric eyes on either side of the gate and the surveillance camera above it. “The count installed them a few days ago.”
    Count Besois-Giron was waiting for them at the castle forecourt. An impressive figure, he was totally bald, and his large beaked nose made him look like a plucked falcon. He was holding a scepter.
    â€œWelcome, High Wizard! Leaving us already?”
    â€œAlas, yes. As you know, I love your wine, and I’m practically catatonic at not being able to drink some. But I have to take Tara and Manitou to OtherWorld. Your son is already there, isn’t he?”
    â€œYes indeed,” said the count proudly. “He transferred two hours ago.”
    â€œPerfect, perfect. We better go right to the Portal then. We still have a long way to go.”
    The Transfer Portal was located in one of the towers overlooking the valley.
    Tara was a Stargate fan, so when she looked around for the Portal, she expected complex equipment, humming generators, and busy technicians. But there was . . . nothing. Just a big empty room hung with five tapestries woven with mythological scenes. One showed unicorns with what looked like dwarves. The second, giants carving—or were they eating?—blocks of stone. The third, men in green with pointed ears. The fourth, spellbinders in gray and blue robes around a pentagram like her grandmother’s. The fifth tapestry showed little multicolored creatures at a party, beneath a scepter.
    â€œStand in the center of the room, please,” said the count.
    â€œCome here, Manitou,” said Tara. The dog obeyed for once and came to sit next to her. Chem could feel the girl’s small hand tighten in his, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
    The count went to stand under the tapestry depicting the small creatures. He placed the scepter he was holding in a hollow on the wall, where it fit perfectly. He then waved goodbye to his guests, stepped out of the room, and closed the door.
    As soon as the latch clicked, the scepter began to glow. Rays of light from the four other tapestries, each a different color, formed a rainbow over the travelers.
    In a strong voice, the old wizard said, “The Living Castle of Travia.”
    They vanished.
    Tara felt a shock and a twinge of nausea, then found herself standing in an identical room, but one with an occupant that looked nothing like the old count. It had only one eye, sported bright orange hair, stood seven feet tall, and was waving a piece of paper in one of its four hands. Tara would have drawn back in panic, but Chem held her firmly.
    Armed guards in blue and silver livery were eying them carefully, their sharp lances at the ready to skewer intruders. Tara gulped as they glowered at her and decided not to budge without permission.
    â€œHigh Wizard, what a pleasure to see you again!” said the Cyclops in a high, fluty voice, waving them