The Gypsy Morph

by Terry Brooks

  LOGAN TOM.

  He wakes on hearing his name spoken, but when he rises he cannot find the speaker. The night is deep and still, the darkness complete. There is no moon. The stars seem diminished and faint; they seem much farther away than they should, tiny and unreachable. He feels isolated by their distance, a feeling he cannot trace the source of. His lack of understanding disappears when he realizes that he is alone. The Ghosts are gone. The AV and the hay wagon are gone. The camp and its meager supplies are all gone.

  He looks around, taking in his surroundings. He is on a barren plain, a flatland stripped of anything even remotely suggesting life. No trees, scrub, brush, animals, insects, or birds. No sounds. No movement. Dirt and rocks and the vast, broad ocean of the night sky—that’s all there is. Nothing looks familiar. This is not where he went to sleep. Somehow he has awakened in a different place. He does not think he has come to this place of his own accord. He has been brought here, and his companions have allowed it to happen. He does not like to think that he has been abandoned, but he feels as if he has.

  “Logan Tom.”

  This time there is no mistake. The voice is high and sweet and clear, and he recognizes it at once. It is the Lady who speaks. He stands where he is, unmoving, searching for her in the dark. It seems impossible that she is there; he can see for miles and miles in all directions, the land flat and bare and empty, and there is no one. Nevertheless, he knows she will appear. She always does. He must be patient until she shows herself, allowing her space and time to do so.

  The seconds tick away. She does not come. She does not speak. He is still alone, and he grows anxious.

  Then all at once she appears right in front of him, a vision of white in the darkness. She hovers in the air, her feet not touching the earth, her gown trailing out behind her like white smoke. Her face radiates peace and comfort, and it brings him instantly to tears. He tries to move closer to her, but he cannot make his legs obey.

  “Lady,” he whispers.

  “You are needed elsewhere, Logan Tom,” she responds softly. “Your skills and talent and experience are required by others. Even though you are responsible for the safety of the gypsy morph, you must leave him now and travel south to the city of the Elves.”

  Elves, he thinks in disbelief. She said, Elves.

  “They are threatened by the one you seek, the one promised to you if you complete your charge. Demons and once-men close in on them, and if you do not reach them in time, they will disappear from the earth. The future we seek to preserve will not come to pass.”

  He says nothing, taking it all in and thinking how crazy it sounds.

  Elves.

  “Another Knight of the Word has helped secure a talisman for the Elves, but she is injured and cannot aid them further. So it is given to you to go in her place. The talisman must be put to use and those who use it protected and guided to where the boy who will lead you all will be waiting to take you to the safehold. To the old man of whom the boy has spoken. To the King of the Silver River.”

  Logan has no idea what talisman she is talking about. But he knows there is no point in asking for explanations. “How am I to find the Elves?” he asks instead.

  “Trim will guide you.” Her slender arm lifts and points into the distance. “Go south. He will meet you on the road. Go afoot. Go alone.”

  “Trim?” he repeats.

  “He is small but very durable. Trust in him to lead you.”

  He wants to know more. “Who am I looking for among the Elves? Is it someone in particular? Who possesses this talisman?”

  Her smile dazzles him. “You will know when you have found who you are looking for. You will know it in your heart.”

  Another enigmatic answer, but one that she seems to feel says everything. He shakes his head. “What of these children I am leaving? Who will protect them?”

  “As before, Logan Tom, they will protect themselves.”

  She is shimmering now, a sign that she is getting ready to leave him. He wants to hold her back, to preserve the feeling of comfort and peace he always finds in her presence. But he knows he can do nothing to stay her, that he has no hold on her. He watches her begin to fade.

  “Brave Knight,” she whispers to him.

  He cannot speak. Then she is gone, and he is alone again, emptied out inside, bereft of something important. He clenches his fists and teeth and by doing so manages to keep himself from crying out his dismay.

  THE SUN HAD BARELY RISEN, its golden orb hazy behind a screen of pollution and dust at the crest of the mountains east. Owl stared into the murky film and thought about what lay ahead. “Are you certain about this?” she asked him again.

  Logan nodded. He was packing food and water into a backpack, enough for a week if he was careful with his usage. He knew how to provision for a trek like this, even if he hadn’t been on one for more than a year. He thought he was fit enough, though, and ready.

  “But why would you be sent to us and then asked to leave before doing what you came to do? Especially if Hawk is so important to everything. I don’t understand it.”

  He looked over at her. “I don’t understand it, either. But it isn’t my place to refuse. If the Lady asks it of me, I am required to comply. It is in the nature of my oath as a Knight of the Word.”

  She could tell that his mind was made up, that there was no arguing the point. His sense of duty was too strong to be swayed by anything she might say.

  “Hey, Owl, we’ll be all right. We can manage without Mister Knight of His Broken Word.” Panther sounded angry. He practically sneered. “Come and go as he pleases, that’s him. No matter who saved his life, he’s gonna do what he wants to do. We can be damned, for all it matters.”

  “Shut up, Panther,” Catalya snapped.

  “Yeah, shut up!” Sparrow echoed.

  Panther stared at them, then shrugged and walked away. “Do whatever you ladies say,” he called over his shoulder. “You just ask.”

  “I’m leaving the AV,” Logan told Owl. He looked around, found Fixit, and tossed him the keys. “You’re in charge. You know best how she works. Take good care of her until I get back.”

  Fixit nodded but said nothing.

  Hawk walked over. “We know you have to go,” he said. He waited for Logan to look at him. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves. We’re together now, and we have Cheney. We’ll be careful.”

  “Yeah, don’t be worrying about us!” Panther echoed from twenty feet away.

  Logan shoved the last of his supplies into the pack and stood up. “I know I don’t have to worry. But I will anyway.” He glanced again at Owl. “Listen to her advice. She’s the one who will do the best to take care of all of you. Do what she says.”

  Hawk gave him a faint grin. “We know that.”

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can manage it.”

  “Quicker, if it’s possible,” Owl called to him.

  She watched him sling the backpack over one shoulder and pick up his black staff. She saw him start to say something and then stop. He shook his head.

  All at once Candle came running over to him and threw her arms around his waist. “Come back to us,” she said, her voice so soft that only Owl and Logan heard clearly.

  The Knight of the Word put a hand on the little girl’s head and pressed her against him. “I will, Candle.”

  He met Owl’s eyes briefly and looked away. Then he disengaged himself from Candle and began walking down the freeway. He took long, steady strides, the tip of his staff clacking softly against the pavement.

  Owl and the others watched after him until he was out of sight.

  EIGHT

  T HE DAY IMPROVED with the passing of the hours as the sun brightened, the haze lifted, and the sky cleared. Logan Tom made good progress following the highway south through the foothills, the slopes he was forced to climb gentle enough that they did not wear him down. He knew he hadn’t recovered from the aftereffects of his batt
le with Krilka Koos; he could feel it in the ache of his muscles and stiffness of his joints. But whatever Hawk had done to bring him out of his coma had also healed the worst of his injuries. Walking helped loosen him up, the blood and adrenaline pumping through him working like a restorative.

  He kept a sharp eye out for any sign of danger, but saw nothing. Now and then a bird would wing its way overhead, sometimes more than one, and once he saw what might have been a fox. He couldn’t be sure; he was too far away to make it out clearly. He passed abandoned, rusted-out vehicles and piles of debris. He passed downed trees and limbs, pieces of fence wiring, and old tires and axles, all reminders of what was past, all of it useless. Even after so many years, it made him sad.

  In the welter of his sadness, he found himself mulling over what he knew about the direction of things. The world’s destruction was imminent, its end a certainty. All the terrible things that had happened before were just a prelude to this finishing off, this endgame. When it was over, everything would be changed. What would the world be like then? What shape would it take in the aftermath? Would the people and creatures led to safety by Hawk be all that were left? Would anything else survive, anything outside the protection of the safehold? How long would it be before they could reemerge from hiding?

  So many questions, and no answers to be had. He wondered if even the Lady knew how things would turn out. He thought that maybe she knew better than he did, but perhaps not so well as he imagined.

  He wondered suddenly if he would live to see any of it, or if he was fated to go the way of the other Knights of the Word. Whatever the case, he had been promised a chance to settle matters with that old man, that demon that had destroyed his family. It would be enough if he were given that. He had always known it would be enough.

  Morning crawled toward noon. He was on the freeway bypass, a broader, less cluttered stretch of pavement. Buildings began appearing on either side of him, clusters of residences and businesses, some collapsing, some shuttered and barred, all abandoned. He kept looking for someone who might be his guide, kept looking for Trim, but no one appeared. He assumed that whichever way he went, whatever road he chose, he would be found. Nonetheless, he found himself wondering how long he would have to walk before that happened. He guessed he shouldn’t worry, but he didn’t like the uncertainty of traveling toward an unknown destination.

  Toward a city of Elves.

  Elves, he thought again, still astonished by the idea.

  He shook his head. What would they look like? He remembered fairy creatures from his childhood from stories read to him by his mother. But he couldn’t picture them. They were little people, weren’t they? Tiny and argumentative? But magical, too? He thought about it, trying to remember something more, but couldn’t. It would have to be a surprise.

  Like almost everything else in his life.

  Just after midday, he crossed a bridge over the Columbia River and entered Oregon. More hills awaited him, and in the distance to the east a huge peak loomed over everything. He kept walking, eyeing fresh clusters of buildings separated by broad stretches of grass and fields withered almost to dust. The landscape spread away like a still life.

  A shadow passed over him, causing him to flinch. He looked up in time to see an owl swoop down out of the sunlight and glide into the trees ahead. He stared, surprised. What was an owl doing out in the daylight? What was an owl doing out at all? He hadn’t seen one in years. He had thought them all extinct.

  He walked on a little farther and then stepped off the side of the road to sit and eat something before continuing on. There were buildings all around him by now, flat-sided, weather-beaten, and crumbling, but there was no sign of life. The air was heavy and still, and the smells of oil and decay permeated everything. He tried to ignore them as he ate, but it was impossible to do.

  He was midway through his meal when he heard a sound behind him and turned to find a girl standing ten feet away. She was maybe fifteen, ragged and dirty, thin to the point of emaciation, her brown hair lank and uncombed. She wore an old coat that hung open over a dress. Both were of indeterminate color, the leavings of some better time and place, the discards of a better world.

  “Got any food to spare, mister?” she asked him. She did not look at him as she spoke, her eyes lowered as if she had no expectation that he would even respond. “I’m awful hungry.”

  He looked past her for others, for the ones who might have sent her out here to distract him, predators seeking to take anything he had on him. But he saw no one.

  “Where is your family?” he said.

  She glanced up briefly, shrugged. “Dead. Mama died last week. I’m the only one left.”

  “It’s dangerous, being out here alone like this.”

  Another shrug. “The compounds won’t have me. They wouldn’t have any of us, when I still had my family. Street people, they called us. Trash. Sometimes worse.”

  He studied her for a moment. Then he sighed. “Come over here and sit down with me.”

  She did so cautiously, suspicious of his motives. When she sat, she was careful to keep out of arm’s reach. He supposed she understood the dangers better than he did. Wordlessly, he passed her food and water in their prepackaged containers. “Here. Take these.”

  She ate and drank as if she hadn’t done so in a very long time. He watched her devour everything, barely pausing to look up. “Tastes good” was all she said.

  He finished his own meal, and by then she was done with hers. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her coat. She was sullen-faced and not very pretty, but her smile was nice. She inclined her head in his direction. “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “You don’t have anyone you can go live with?”

  She shook her head. “No one close. Wouldn’t know if the ones farther off are even alive.” She hesitated. “I could come with you.”

  He furrowed his brow. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I can keep up. I’m a good walker. I could help carry stuff.” She licked her lips, looked back down at her feet. “I could keep you warm at night. I could do things for you.”

  “I’m going somewhere dangerous. You wouldn’t be safe.”

  She curled her lip disdainfully. “Safe? What are you talking about? I’m not safe here! I’m not safe anywhere! You know what happens to girls like me out here alone? You know what’s already happened, not two days after Mama died? Safe? Hey, mister, what world are you living in?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t come with me.”

  She stared at him a moment, then let her shoulders sag. “I thought you would say that, but I had to ask. You don’t look like someone who needs me or anybody.” She eyed him furtively. “Can you spare me a little more food? Just a little?”

  He gave her half of what he had brought. He couldn’t seem to help himself. When he looked at her he saw Meike, the freckle-faced girl he had left behind at the Safeco Field compound in the aftermath of Hawk’s disappearance. He had told her to run away, but had she? If she had, had she ended up like this girl—ragged and starving and alone? He didn’t like thinking about it, but there it was. All these abandoned children, tossed into a world of predators and poisons, bereft and hopeless waifs. He wanted to save them, just as Michael had saved him all those years ago. But he knew it was impossible. He couldn’t save them. Probably no one could.

  “You sure you won’t take me with you?” she asked him again. “I won’t be any bother. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

  He shook his head. “Tell you what you should do,” he said to her. “Go back up the road, cross the bridge into Washington, and keep going north on the freeway. First two-lane road you come to—only one you’ll pass that’s a real highway—you take it east toward the mountains. Some other kids are going that way. There are even more kids waiting for them, and some adults, too. They’re all heading for a place that really is safe. If you can catch up to them, you’ll be all right.”

  She looked at him doubt
fully. “For real?”

  “Better than staying here, isn’t it?”

  She nodded slowly, flicking back loose strands of her long hair. “Okay. I guess I can try. I can walk all right. I can find my way. Some other kids would be good company.”

  “If you leave now, you can get to the crossroad by nightfall. Just keep traveling east after that until you catch up to them. Be careful.”

  She grinned crookedly. “You don’t need to tell me that.” She paused. “Is it really all that dangerous where you’re going?”

  “Worse.”

  She studied him a moment. “Okay, I believe you. Good luck. Thanks.”

  He set out alone a short time afterward, waving good-bye to her as she began walking in the opposite direction. She didn’t appear to have any supplies or clothes or anything beyond what he had given her or what she was wearing. She was a skinny, ragged figure as she disappeared from view, and he wondered, as he had about Meike, if he would ever see her again.

  A short time after that, the owl reappeared, swooping down right in front of him, nearly taking off his head. He drew up short and stared at it as it circled away and then back again. He peered upward at the bird in disbelief, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. What in the world? The owl soared overhead, spiraled down, and landed on a split-rail fence not a dozen yards from where he stood.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he yelled at the bird.

  The owl stared at him, its yellow saucer eyes unblinking. It was a small bird but strikingly marked with a speckled white breast and black bands on its wings and rings about its eyes. It had a decidedly durable look about it, he thought, even though it was sort of small for a . . .

  He paused in midthought, remembering suddenly where he had heard those words before, realizing as he did so what he was looking at.

  “Trim?” he asked the bird.

  The owl blinked in response, spread his wings briefly, and settled back again.

  A bird, he thought. She’s sent me a bird for a guide. At first he found it ridiculous. The owl was an oddity that didn’t seem right for what he needed. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He had expected Trim to be a two-legged companion, one he could converse with and ask questions of. But that wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a creature who could go anywhere and could find the least dangerous path to where he must go. What better place to do that than from the air? If Trim could make known to Logan what he must do, he might prove to be exactly the guide he required.