Vespers Rising

by Gordon Korman

  Dan looked out over the breathtaking vista. They were past the tree line now, and he could make out skiers on the trails, tiny dots that zigged and zagged.

  He was glad that he and Amy were still wearing their parkas. It was cold up here, and the wind rattled the car.

  “We left Fiske and that poor woman down there. Do you think she’s dead?” Amy whispered, her face pale.

  “No,” Dan said. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure. He took another discreet puff on his inhaler. His heartbeat was slowing down, but he was having trouble focusing.

  At first this had seemed so cool, to be back on the run, outwitting the bad guys. But the Vespers — he didn’t know these guys at all, and that scared him. He could still hear the sickening thunk of Fiske’s head hitting the wall. Casper had treated Fiske like an insect, something in his way to be squashed under his shoe. The look in his eyes … it was as though Fiske were something less than human.

  He wasn’t ready to get plunged back into this. He wasn’t ready at all.

  But he couldn’t tell his sister that. She’d worry even more than she was worrying now.

  Amy pressed closer to the glass. She pointed down the mountain. “Take a look at that helicopter.”

  A copter was heading across the sky, casting a shadow on the pristine white snow.

  It powered closer, its propeller whirring. They could see the pilot now, and a man sitting in the seat next to him.

  “They’re arguing,” Amy said.

  “Look. That copter is getting awfully close,” one of the women in the car said nervously to her companion.

  Someone else said something in French. The cable car operator looked out and frowned. He spoke into his headset.

  Suddenly, the passenger in the helicopter lunged forward. They saw the pilot jerk violently backward.

  “He has a gun!” someone yelled.

  The passenger began to push the pilot out of the seat. The helicopter tilted crazily.

  An American man yelled, “Call the authorities!”

  “He shot the pilot!” his wife screamed.

  The pilot, they saw, was fighting for his life. Helplessly, they watched as the passenger clubbed the pilot with the butt of the gun. He hung on to his seat while the passenger pushed him toward the open door. Someone next to Dan hammered on the glass of the cable car and cried out something in German.

  Then they all screamed with one voice as the passenger reared back and kicked the pilot halfway out the open door. The pilot gripped the side of the helicopter, but with one brutal thrust the passenger pushed him off. They screamed in horror as the pilot’s body fell, gaining velocity as he went down, until he was lost to sight.

  Someone sobbed. The cable car was a babble of voices in different languages, calling out in anguish.

  Dan swallowed quickly. He felt sick. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Amy looked at him, her eyes wide with horror.

  “I’ve called the police,” the operator shouted. He repeated the phrase in German and Italian.

  Amy had turned back to the window. “It’s not over,” she whispered.

  The passenger was now piloting the helicopter. It was heading straight for the cable car. Instinctively, everyone moved away from it, and the car lurched crazily to one side. Several people screamed.

  “Stay calm!” the operator yelled. “Keep the car stable! The police are on their way!”

  Dan cast a quick look up the mountain. They were far away from the top, and the drop must be hundreds of feet down. Now he could see the passenger’s face. He felt the shock of recognition. It was the bank president’s assistant, the one in the silver glasses. “It’s Bruno!” he told Amy. “The guy from the bank who dissed us. He’s a Vesper.”

  Amy was pale and glassy-eyed. “He’s going to cut the cables.”

  Dan looked at her in alarm, then at the helicopter. It was higher than the cable car now and tilted to one side. The whirring blades were getting closer and closer. So close he could see the intent expression on the Vesper’s face, the way his gaze stayed on the cables above.

  “He can’t —” Dan started, then swallowed. If the guy was trying to scare them, he was coming awfully close.

  Screams erupted throughout the cabin. Instinctively, everyone moved back, and the car rocked again. Dan hung on to Amy as the helicopter loomed in their vision, Bruno’s black-gloved hands steady on the controls.

  Then a terrible shrieking sound resounded through the cabin, and the cable gave way. The car lurched, and some of the passengers were slammed to the floor. They began to slide toward the closed doors. Dan and Amy barely stayed on their feet. Screams filled the cabin.

  “What’s happening?” someone yelled in terror.

  “We’re all right!” the operator shouted above the screams. “We can’t fall! There’s one cable left. We’re all right! We’re all right,” he kept repeating in English, then French, then Italian, then German, as though by saying it over and over it would make it real. But there was a sheen of perspiration on his face, and Dan could see fear in his eyes.

  “He’s coming back again!” a man shouted.

  Amy took Dan’s hand. He knew now what Amy had already guessed. The Vesper wasn’t trying to scare them. He was going to kill them.

  The whirring blades angled to the left, ready to cut the final cable and send them plunging to their death.

  It’s going to end here, like this?

  The formula was in his head, the formula that could make him the most powerful person in the world. They had decided months ago that it was too dangerous to exist. Too dangerous to ingest.

  But if he had done it, if he had taken it, could he have dispatched Casper Wyoming back in the chalet? He would have had the strength of a Tomas. If he’d had the cunning of a Lucian, would he have seen ahead and baited a trap instead of walking into one? If he’d thought more creatively, like a Janus, would he have come up with another way to escape, instead of climbing aboard a death trap? If he’d had the inventiveness of an Ekaterina, could he now figure out a way to get the cable car moving and away from this madman in a copter?

  If I had it all — every power — could I have escaped this moment?

  Dan faced the helicopter. He hadn’t learned not to be afraid, but he had learned that turning away was not an option. He wanted the last thing he saw to be that guy’s face, so the Vespers would know that Dan Cahill hadn’t been scared. The terror that gripped him — his enemy would not see it.

  “Polizia!” someone yelled.

  Someone else was sobbing as the police helicopter flew at terrific speed toward the rogue helicopter. Dan could see Bruno’s furious face as he dipped his copter sharply to the right and zoomed away, with the police in pursuit.

  A few people were crying. The American man hugged his wife and rocked her from side to side. A tall German skier gave a short, strangled laugh. Relief made them all giddy for a moment. Until they remembered that they were still dangling over a staggering drop on only one cable.

  “The rescue helicopter is on its way,” the operator said. “We should see it in a moment.”

  “And then what?” Amy asked. “How will they fix the cable?”

  The operator looked at her kindly. “They can’t fix it,” he said. “They’re going to airlift us out.”

  “Air — airlift?”

  “A rescue worker will be lowered by cable from the helicopter and he’ll take one group out at a time. Don’t worry, they are very good at their jobs,” the operator said.

  Dan suddenly realized that he was freezing. The car wasn’t heated, and condensation was beginning to build on the windows and ice over. It was difficult to see out now. Which was probably a good thing, being that Amy was a weenie about heights.

  “Did they catch the helicopter pilot?” Dan asked the operator.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. They’ll get him.”

  Soon they heard the whirring of the blades. They could just glimpse the rescue helicopter approaching. Dangling at the
end of a long cable was a rescue worker in a red parka. The helicopter flew higher, and they felt the slight bump as the rescue worker landed against the cable car. A second later the doors opened, and he swung in.

  The noise of the copter was loud in their ears. He motioned to the man and wife close to him, and then to Dan and Amy. Slings were attached to the cable, and the man and his wife were already slipping into them.

  “I have to sit in that and be towed in midair?” Amy asked. Her face looked terror stricken. “Dan, I can’t do this.”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course you can. You’ve been on the top of Mount Everest! This is cake.” He didn’t like the look on Amy’s face. His sister was madbrave when she was in the moment. It was the waiting that did her in.

  “Come on.” He urged her forward. “Can this be any worse than the time I made you jump off the balcony in that Cairo museum?”

  Amy laughed weakly, but she moved forward and sat gingerly in the contraption. The rescue worker snapped her in.

  Dan stepped into the sling.

  “Ready?” the rescue worker shouted.

  Everyone else nodded, and Amy’s weak “Not really” was swallowed by the rush of wind as they stepped off the cable car into midair.

  Dan felt the jolt of the cable and the blast of cold air in his face. Clouds were building in layers around the mountain, and the tiny pellets of snow striking his cheeks felt like ice. They swung at the bottom of the cable as the helicopter started down the mountain. Dan looked down and gulped. Amy kept her eyes closed.

  They were probably in the air for about five minutes or so, but it felt longer. Finally, he saw far below a cluster of rescue workers clad in red parkas standing in a clearing near an alpine hut. The helicopter flew lower and lower, and he saw them waiting, arms outstretched. The helicopter hovered above, and in seconds, a rescuer had grabbed his legs. He almost toppled onto the guy. Now that relief was coursing through him, his muscles felt like slush.

  “Are you okay?” the rescuer asked.

  Dan nodded, even though he wasn’t sure. Would the guy think he was crazy if he kissed the ground? He decided to skip it.

  He could see now that the hut was bigger than he’d thought, and was a small restaurant. Skiers sat inside, most of them sipping at hot drinks while they watched the rescue operations. Some of them were in their stocking feet. It was odd to come back to a world where people sat around, warm and comfortable in their socks, eating soup, while he’d almost been turned into Dan Jam, smashed into goo on a mountainside.

  He walked on unsteady legs toward Amy, who was already sitting on a bench, a mug of soup in her hands. Next to her, skis had been planted in the snow and were sticking straight up like a small forest. Snow boots were piled on a mat. There was a jumble of goggles in a basket.

  Dan took the offered cup from a rescue worker and tasted the best soup of his life. Everything looked so sharp and clear — the blue shadows on the snow, the crazy clouds, the creamy ceramic sheen of the cup.

  “You can go inside and warm up, if you wish,” the rescue guy said. “Do you see the person talking to the couple over there? He is going to come over here and talk to you as well — he is a medic. You don’t appear to be in shock, but we must check. Then you may take the tram down the mountain. There are escorts waiting.”

  “Thanks.” Dan sank down next to Amy. “That was close,” he said.

  Amy turned to him. “We almost died, Dan. We really almost did this time.” She shook her head. “I thought all this … was over. Is it ever going to be over?”

  Dan didn’t want to answer that question. Because they both knew the answer was no.

  “We should call Fiske. But I don’t have a signal,” Amy said, snapping her phone closed. She scanned the area. “Casper Wyoming could be anywhere. Not to mention the other guy. We should get off the mountain. Didn’t that guy say a rescue worker would escort us down? That’s our best bet.”

  Dan didn’t answer. He was studying the rescue worker who stood waiting patiently by the tram station. He was dressed in the same red jacket the other rescuers wore, his fleece cap pulled down to his eyebrows and a pair of goggles obscuring most of his face. Something about him was familiar, and not in a good way.

  The worker patted his parka pocket for a minute. Like he was making sure something was there. Like a weapon.

  He turned his back and spoke quickly to Amy. “Don’t look, but that rescue guy is our friend Casper. He’s waiting by the tram.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “What should we do? Should we tell someone?”

  “Tell them what? That we’re protecting an ancient ring? Or that there’s this secret society called the Vespers?”

  “I guess not. But we have to get down this mountain.” Amy glanced over at the skis. “And there’s only one way.”

  Within minutes, they were schussing down the slope. The cloud cover was thicker, and the snow was falling more steadily now. Amy and Dan weren’t experts, but luckily the run wasn’t too steep … yet. They made good time down the mountain. Far below, they could see the lights of Zermatt beginning to twinkle on.

  All they could hear was the schuss, schuss of their skis. Once in a while a skier would pass them, going down straight and fast.

  Amy gave a quick glance behind. Her heart sank when she saw a skier in a red parka heading off from the hut. To her dismay, a skier clad in navy kept up the pace next to him. “Bad news — they’re both behind us,” she told Dan. “Bruno must have gotten away. And here’s the other bad news — they look like experienced skiers.”

  “Apparently Casper is Outdoor Dude,” Dan said through gritted teeth.

  “We have to go off the trail. They have the advantage if we go straight downhill. They’re much faster.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Dan said.

  Amy skied off the trail. The snow was icy and bumpy. She gripped her poles. It would be a disaster if one of them fell. She tried to forget the warnings she’d read about skiing off trails on this mountain — how treacherous crevasses could lie off the ski runs, ready to swallow up skiers. The wind bit at her cheeks, and she ducked her head slightly, trying to focus on the best pathway through the snow. At least the direction was easy — downhill.

  They made better time now. The Vespers had longer skis, faster on the trail but not as maneuverable as their shorter skis. Their path snaked through large boulders, and crags and cliffs lay on either side.

  Amy squinted through her borrowed goggles. She saw a problem ahead. There were two natural divisions on the route they were on. To the right was a small stand of trees. To the left, large boulders rose through the snow, and the terrain grew increasingly rocky, ending in what appeared to be a huge crag that would qualify as an Olympic ski jump.

  She went right. She heard Dan struggling for breath next to her as they tracked back and forth, finding a path through the trees. It should have brought them ahead, but it didn’t. When they cleared the trees, she glanced behind. The two Vespers were right behind them. They would catch up in a few seconds.

  She saw the inevitable end of this chase, and she pushed back against her panic.

  Amy felt the ache in her legs and arms. Her muscles burned, and her chest hurt. She heard the sound she was dreading — Dan had started to wheeze. His breath was giving out.

  Her muscles quivered. She gripped her poles and stared ahead fiercely, telling herself not to give up. When had she ever given up, even when she was exhausted and discouraged and sure she’d never succeed? That determination had kept her going. It had sustained them through the Clue hunt. Dan had it, too.

  She glanced behind. The two skiers were moving so fast. They were close enough now that she could hear the schuss of their skis. They weren’t flailing like her and Dan. They were like machines.

  Her leg muscles had gone past burning. They were shaking uncontrollably. The whole day had been too much, the lack of sleep, the shocks, the near-death experience. Amy felt tears well up and begin to fall.

&
nbsp; They weren’t going to make it.

  She’d made the wrong choice, coming off the main trail. With another quick glance behind her, she could see that the Vespers were almost on them now.

  Looming ahead, she saw an outcropping of snow, a small cliff, and she cried out to Dan and turned to miss it. They’d never make it over without falling. They made the turn, avoiding the outcropping, but the maneuver had cost them. The Vespers caught up.

  It was over.

  The Vespers stopped in front of them, turning in a spray of snow. Amy and Dan were forced to pull up. The only sound was their labored breathing and the hiss of the wind. She noticed how dusky it was, how the lights of the village seemed so far below them. How alone they were. To the left was the crag she’d avoided earlier. To the right, more forest. The snow ahead was wide and empty, but the Vespers blocked them from it.

  Casper spoke. “The ring. That’s all we want.”

  Was he telling the truth? They were certainly willing to send them plummeting to their deaths just a little while ago.

  Amy gripped her ski poles while her mind worked frantically. Had she reached a dead end? If she handed over the ring, would there be a chance for them? She couldn’t let anything happen to Dan. She was his older sister, his protector. He hated that, but it was true.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dan murmured to her. As usual, he knew what she was thinking — she would sacrifice the ring for him.

  She felt the ring, snug on her thumb under her glove. Suddenly, in the midst of all this terror, she felt the shimmer of memories. One after the other, cascading down — Grace, her gaze so intent, handing her a new book in her library. Grace, lying on the window seat near the end, pain etched in every line on her face but turning to Amy and summoning up some inner light that somehow transformed her back into a vital person. Shielding Amy from her pain, shielding both of them from the terrible knowledge that death was in her bones and it was coming soon.

  That was courage. That was strength.

  How could she answer that with anything less?

  “It’s stuck,” she told him. “I can’t get it off my finger.”

  Casper withdrew a long, glittering knife. “Darling, that isn’t a problem.”