The familiar, chilly wind rose about them, and he hunched his shoulders against the gusts. After two icy breaths, the wind subsided and the scene cleared to reveal their destination.
Aran couldn’t hold back his whoop of triumph. They stood in the mirror-image clearing, and though he couldn’t see the coded wall, he knew it was there.
“What is this place?” Spark asked, glancing across at the other two clearings.
“The barrier between the realms. Look.”
He stepped forward, palm out, until he met the resistance of the wall. He gave it a slap, demonstrating its solidity. Spark followed him, her hand outstretched. When she reached the barrier, she glanced over at him.
“Fix it, and let’s get out of here.”
Crap. Aran looked down at his hands, then back up at her. His throat tightened with the taste of failure.
“I don’t think I can. Last time I had my tablet with me—that’s how I accessed the programming.”
“There’s no other way?”
He shook his head. Damn—why had he charged in without thinking?
Spark pressed her lips together, then held out her hand, palm up. The golden apple appeared, shimmering with light.
“How’s that going to help?” Aran asked.
“In a previous quest, I got three wishes out of a copper apple. I used them to get the silver apple, but now that’s disappeared for some reason.”
“Maybe you can only have one apple at a time.”
She frowned at the golden fruit. “Maybe. If you hadn’t been with me, I would have needed the power of the silver apple to help defeat the giant and fish up that girl. But I didn’t use it, so it disappeared when I got the golden one. I guess.”
“How does it work?” He leaned forward and inspected the apple.
“Rub it, and tell it your wish.” She held her palm out to him.
He picked up the golden fruit. It was warm to the touch, and heavier than he’d expected. Running his fingers over the rounded side, he concentrated.
“I need my tablet,” he said.
Bright light flashed, and he stepped back, almost dropping the apple. It had split in half, brilliance streaming from inside. Then it snapped shut, and the air felt colder, the shadows creeping closer.
Spark bent and scooped up his tablet from where it had appeared on the green moss.
“Okay,” she said. “Get to work.”
“Um.” Aran looked down at the apple again. “Three wishes, right?”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, her voice distrustful. “Maybe I should hold the apple now.”
“No—it’s just that I forgot something. The other thing I need to make this work.”
“Well, try it without.”
Before he could protest, she swapped, plucking the apple from his hand and giving him the tablet in return.
“Fine.”
He powered on the tablet. As he’d feared, it showed the normal menu.
“It won’t display the code,” he said. “I can’t tweak it if I can’t see it.”
Blowing an impatient breath out through her nose, Spark snatched the tablet and gave him the apple again.
Aran gently rubbed its smooth sides.
“The dragon toy, please,” he said.
This time he was prepared for the burst of light. When it faded, Spark bent and picked up the bright orange toy.
“What is this?” She shook it in his face. “Don’t tell me you wasted a wish on playing a practical joke?”
Her lack of trust hurt, but he supposed he deserved it.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Give me back my tablet.”
“You don’t touch this apple again.” She snatched it from him and vanished it back to wherever it had come from.
“I won’t need to. Watch.”
He brought the plastic dragon to the tablet. The instant it touched the screen the display flared, then reassembled to show lines of code. Aran’s shoulders dropped with relief.
“All right,” Spark said, which was close enough to an apology.
“Keep watch,” he said, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the velvety moss.
He balanced the tablet on one knee, the plastic dragon standing like a sentinel at the head of the device. Flicking his fingers over the display, he scrolled rapidly through until he found the protocols he’d changed. It shouldn’t take him long. Unravel this bit. Re-code that…
He was dimly aware of the shadows shifting, of the air growing colder, but he narrowed his eyes and focused all his concentration on the programming. Not only was he closing the gap he’d made, he was triple-encrypting the whole thing. No other hacker would be able to open the wall again. Ever.
“Done,” he said.
The wall shuddered, then closed with a whoosh and thunderclap.