“The thing is”—Arthur sat facing the fire with his back to Jack—“this girl isn’t right. Just look at how she’s dressed. It’s not proper!”
The flickering firelight only partially illuminated the desk, so at first, Jack had trouble understanding what he was seeing.
“A girl should wear a dress, not trousers.” Arthur’s voice became higher by the second as he rambled on.
Quickly pushing Arthur out of his mind, Jack stared at a large number of cracked brown pages scattered across Mrs. Dumphry’s desk. The papers looked haphazard, overlapping one another and covering most of the surface, leaving only the edges bare. It seemed to Jack as if this had been done purposefully, though he couldn’t imagine why. Even though every page was a separate piece, they were linked in a way he didn’t understand. Covering the pages was a strange picture.
“It can’t be,” he said, though he was speaking to himself.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Arthur said. “You’d think she’d at least speak like a proper girl. And can you believe she carries a sling? A sling for goodness sake! And, I ask you, what kind of girl goes about climbing trees like that?”
Jack didn’t hear a word Arthur was saying; he was much too engrossed in the pages. The longer he looked, the more sure he was that it wasn’t a picture; it was a map of some sort. Great mountain ranges had been drawn, crossing several pages. Yet where the pages overlapped one another, the mountains seemed to rise upward, almost as if they came off the actual pages.
It reminded Jack of the pop-out book he’d seen at Mr. Hamilton’s bookstore last summer. When he’d opened the book, the characters inside had quite literally popped out, though they had been made of paper. Yet that book was nothing like what he was seeing now. The mountains linking the pages looked real. He was sure he could see snow falling on their peaks! As the mountains carried on into the middle of the pages, they once again became normal drawings.
Surrounding the mountains were large bodies of water. And where the pages overlapped, waves crashed, sending sprays into the air. Jack’s jaw dropped. The water was the color of … he didn’t know. He’d never seen anything like it. It wasn’t just one color—there were hundreds of them, and Jack couldn’t have named a single one. He began to laugh. The colors were dancing with one another as they spun in intricate patterns.
When Arthur heard him laugh, he glanced back in irritation. “Well, I don’t think it’s funny at all,” he said. “She could have killed you with that stone!”
Jack ignored his friend. He scanned the map and began to grin. It was so beautiful! The longer he looked, the giddier he felt. He placed his hands on the desk, leaning in to get a closer look. As he leaned in, Jack had a vision. Whether it was in his head or he was watching it play out in the center of the map, he couldn’t tell, but a scene began to flash before him.
There was a being made entirely of light. It was brighter than the sun and standing on the topmost peak of an enormous mountain. Whoever or whatever this being was, it was far too bright for Jack’s eyes. Even when he squeezed them shut, he could still see the blinding light. As he tried to turn away, the being’s voice boomed inside his head.
“I WILL ASCEND THE UTMOST HEIGHTS OF SIYYON.” It was the most beautiful voice Jack had ever heard—every word sounded like a magnificent symphony.
“I AM BELIAL, THE LORD OF HARMONY. EVEN THE GREATEST DRAKEONS TREMBLE IN MY SIGHT. THE STARS BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP ME!”
The voice was so bewitching, so melodic, it took his breath away. Although the voice was echoing inside his head, Jack was sure the being wasn’t talking to him.
“IF I RISE UP, THEY WILL FOLLOW. IF I MOVE NOW, I WILL UNSEAT THE AUTHOR HIMSELF!”
Although he didn’t understand what they meant, Jack knew the words were wrong. Whoever Belial was, he had to feel it too. It was like the time Jack lied to his mother about eating the apple pie. When he told her he hadn’t done it, he’d felt the words as they left his mouth. He’d known they were wrong before they formed on his tongue. Whoever was speaking, his words were like that. Except these words made Jack feel infinitely worse. Surely this strange being must feel it too.
“NOTHING IN ALL CREATION CAN BEAR TO LOOK UPON MY GLORY.”
Then, Belial began to sing. If his speaking had been both beautiful and terrifying, his singing was infinitely more so. It made Jack want to dance and weep at the same time. The song had such beauty, such foreboding, that it felt as if all of creation were holding its breath.
As Belial sang, Jack collapsed onto the desk. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the schoolhouse in Ballylesson, Ireland, but was now on the top of a great mountain, standing behind Belial himself. Belial was still singing the same song.
Jack looked around in wonder. There was no sun in the sky, yet light radiated from the mountain. Every tree, rock, and blade of grass vibrated with the most beautiful light. The mountain was so high that Jack could see forever, and he stood on the edge of a sheer drop.
Although Belial was still bright, something had changed. His light was turning dark. It wasn’t fading, but shifting to a different sort of light altogether. And in the sky above, tens of thousands of stars rained down.
As Jack watched the stars, images flashed in the sky. There were so many that he struggled to take them in. One was an image of himself. He was cradled in the arms of a creature with milky white eyes and black wings.
Next, he saw the girl in the crimson cloak running for her life. He couldn’t see who was chasing her, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would be captured by something terribly evil.
In another vision, Arthur Greaves stood at the entrance to a city of nightmares. Then, Jack saw his father hiding a small wooden box beneath a pile of stones; next, his brother, Parker, appeared, standing on the edge of a cliff as a number of trees glided toward him.
More images flashed, but Jack could barely make them out. A wild-eyed boy holding a bow; a beast that was part wolf and part snake; a city made entirely of chambers and bridges; a small log cabin on the sea; a young girl with emerald eyes; a feathered pen that had been snapped in two; a mountain crumbling into the sea; a young girl with whimsical eyes; a dark cloud that swallowed the sky; and still more images flashed, faster and faster.
“YOU ARE LIKE … HIM!” The voice exploded like thunder.
Jack turned from the vision to see Belial standing a few paces away and looking directly at him. In Belial’s eyes was a look of both hunger and fear. Yet he had changed with the singing of the song. His light had fused with darkness, and though he was still bright, Jack could look directly at him. It wasn’t just Belial that had changed, though; the entire world was different. It felt somehow more … dangerous.
“YOU ARE LIKE THE AUTHOR HIMSELF.” Belial was studying Jack, and though his voice was filled with rage, there was wariness in his eyes. Lifting his head, he screamed at the heavens, “THIS IS YOUR PLAN? THIS IS HOW YOU FIGHT BACK? A CHILD?”
Jack wanted to run, to hide, but he was already backed up against the edge of the cliff. One more step and he would fall to his death.
Belial looked at Jack and grinned. “I HAVE GREAT PLANS FOR YOU. I AM BELIAL, THE LORD OF HARMONY, AND I MARK YOU AS MINE.”
Belial reached out and placed his finger on Jack’s chest. And where his finger touched, a small trail of smoke began to rise. Screaming in pain and blinded by fear, Jack leaped from the cliff. As he plummeted downward, Belial called out.
“I AM COMING, BOY! YOU CANNOT HIDE FOREVER.”
Jack hit the ground hard, biting his lip as his chin bounced on the floorboards. He was lying beside Mrs. Dumphry’s desk. The fire crackled and popped. Arthur spoke loudly.
“Which is why you’d think she would just put on a bonnet or some kind of dress to—” Arthur stopped midsentence and leaped to his feet when he saw Jack lying face-first on the schoolhouse floor.
C
hapter 9
A BAD DREAM
Jack was lying on the floor and could taste blood from where he’d bitten his lower lip when he landed. Unsure of whether he’d awakened from a nightmare or if he was going insane, he sat up.
Arthur was standing beside him. “What are you doing down there?”
Jack felt his chest. A small, half-moon–shaped hole had been burned into his shirt from where the strange being had touched him. Yet when he pulled the shirt aside, there wasn’t a mark on him.
“How’d that happen?”
“I ... I don’t know,” Jack lied. He was careful not to disturb the contents on the desk as he stood. He trusted Arthur completely, but the events of the day were making his head spin. The dark fog, the other Jack who’d tried to kill him, and now the map all were making him feel very uncomfortable.
The papers still lay scattered across Mrs. Dumphry’s desk, but every one of them was blank. Jack took a step back. “I think I might be sick,” he said.
“If you are sick, then I am a spring chicken,” Mrs. Dumphry said wryly.
Both boys jumped, turning to see their teacher sitting in her rocking chair by the fire.
“What you saw was a Masc Tinneas. It is a map of sorts, though it does not show where, but when. This map always reveals both the past and future.” Mrs. Dumphry stood and poked the fire with her walking stick. “Tell me, child, what did the Masc Tinneas reveal to you?”
Jack had no reason to fear his teacher. She’d always been kind and was a close friend of his mother and father. She often came by the house to visit, though it was usually after Jack was already in bed. He’d spent many a night falling asleep at the top of the stairs listening to Mrs. Dumphry and his parents talk. But the idea of telling his teacher what he saw was unnerving.
Jack remembered what happened five years earlier. Mrs. Dumphry had sent a boy named Ethan Wild to the asylum. Ethan had been one of the older students at the Ballylesson Schoolhouse. One day during class he had gone mad, clutching at his eyes and rolling on the floor. Ethan kept screaming over and over again about the “searing light.”
Every student had stood against the far wall, watching Ethan writhe and claw at his eyes. That was the last day he’d been seen in Ballylesson. Everyone around town said Mrs. Dumphry had personally taken him to the asylum all the way out in Wallydrom, at least three days’ ride from the town. With this memory clear in his mind, Jack decided it best he not tell his teacher anything at all.
Yet Mrs. Dumphry wasn’t the type of woman you kept waiting. Everyone in Ballylesson sat up straighter when she walked into a room, and even Jack’s mother spoke to her only with the utmost respect.
“My mother is probably worried sick by now,” Jack said as he looked longingly at the front door. “I was supposed to be home ages ago.”
“Your parents are on their way.” Mrs. Dumphry’s voice held a demanding tone. “They will be here momentarily. You need to tell me what you saw, child.”
Jack felt like a worm being studied by a bird. “I d-didn’t see anything,” he stammered. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw something dark slithering across the schoolhouse floor. “The dark fog!” he screamed as he ran back a few steps. But when he looked again, there was no fog, merely Whinny, the black cat that lived beneath the schoolhouse.
Mrs. Dumphry’s eyes never left Jack. After a moment she let out a long, slow breath. “After so long, can this be how it begins? Can we have been so blind?” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Two children?” She sounded amazed. Mrs. Dumphry looked from the girl to Jack. “Child, you must tell me when and where you saw this dark fog. If the Shadowfog is here, then the entire town is in grave danger.”
Jack felt his chest tighten. Part of him had hoped he was crazy. But Mrs. Dumphry’s reaction was far too serious. “Just a few hours a-ago,” he said. “It was in the woods just outside the school.”
Arthur began muttering under his breath. “Dark fog, lions, crazy girls, and maps. What’s going on?”
“With the Author’s blessing, we are not too late,” Mrs. Dumphry said. “What you saw has many names; some call it ‘Shadowfog’ or the ‘Assassin’s Cloud’ or ‘Black Death’ to name a few. Regardless of its name, it is pure evil.” Mrs. Dumphry stepped closer. “Tell me, how have you been feeling since the circus fire?”
The question took Jack by surprise, yet before he could say anything, Mrs. Dumphry continued, “There is much to be done before morning.” Glancing at the mud on the floor, she spoke in a brusque tone, “Both of you have tracked mud into my schoolhouse. When I return from my trip, you will each write, ‘I will not treat the schoolhouse like a barnyard,’ one hundred times on the blackboard.”
Before either of the boys could think how to respond, Mrs. Dumphry turned toward the front entry. “Ah, it seems your parents have arrived.” Without another word she walked out the back door.
The boys just stared at the door with their mouths opened wide. A moment later, Arthur’s parents and Jack’s mother entered through the front.
“Arthur Reginald Alexander Greaves, just what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur’s mother was a large woman, yet much of her size was muscle that just so happened to be covered by a thin layer of fat. His father was even larger, but in his case, it was all muscle. Arthur’s father had spent his childhood as a blacksmith’s apprentice, and the muscles he’d gained in that time had not gone away. Mr. Greaves now worked as a tanner, but he still forged his own horseshoes.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but his mother cut him off. “Minister McCarty told us about the beast in the woods! When you didn’t come home, well, I thought … I thought …” When Arthur’s mother burst into tears, so did he. Without another word he ran into her open arms.
“What were you thinking, Jack?” Jack’s mother asked. “On your first time out since the fire, you pull a stunt like this!”
Jack didn’t know what to say. Had it only been a few hours since he’d left the house? It felt like a lifetime ago. Hot tears sprang to his eyes.
“I was—” Jack stopped. “I didn’t—” He cut off again, unsure what to say.
His mother walked over and wrapped him in a hug. “I was worried about you, especially after we heard about the beast in—” His mother stopped midsentence. Jack couldn’t see her face, but he felt her body tense. As he stepped back, he saw that she was looking at the girl lying by the fire.
“Jacksie, who is that?”
Jack had forgotten all about the girl. “She’s—”
“She is the one who was chasing the lion!” Arthur burst out excitedly. “And she can climb a tree like you wouldn’t believe. And when she tried to kill Jack with a stone, Mrs. Dumphry saved him. You should have seen it!” Arthur stepped away from his mother, becoming more animated by the second. “She wasn’t this dirty before, but Jack and I dropped her in the mud when we were trying to get back to the school. She is actually quite beautiful.” Arthur stared at her, lost in thought, but before anyone could say a word, he began again.
“When I first saw her, I thought she was a boy. Can you believe that? She’s far too pretty to be a boy. But then the lion came and jumped on Jack, and she”—Arthur motioned to the girl excitedly—“tried to save him. She is very brave. Except Jack didn’t need her help because the lion apparently just wanted to lick him!” He threw his arms in the air.
Arthur was breathing heavily now, his eyes wide as he remembered the events of the day. Jack’s mother walked to the girl and knelt beside her. “Oh yeah,” Arthur continued, “when we got back, Mrs. Dumphry was acting crazy! She’s going to make us write lines for tracking mud into the school, but it was only muddy because she left the girl in the woods in the first place.” Arthur shook his head dramatically.
“There’s a … lion in the woods?” Arthur’s father sounded more
incredulous than believing.
“It licked Jack?” Arthur’s mother was clearly alarmed.
Before anyone could say a word, Jack broke in. “She’s the girl from the circus, Mother—the one who was walking the tightrope.”
Jack’s mother had placed the girl’s head on her lap and was running a hand through her hair. He couldn’t see his mother’s face, but he could tell something was wrong. Was she crying?
“Megan, what wrong?” Mrs. Greaves asked, stepping toward her.
Standing quickly, Jack’s mother dabbed at her eyes and began to laugh. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing.”
“You know this girl?” Mr. Greaves asked.
His mother didn’t answer, but changed the subject. “I assume Mrs. Dumphry has gone, then?”
Jack nodded, confused.
“For the time being at least, this girl needs somewhere to stay. She will come home with us until we can find her parents.” She looked at Mr. Greaves. “Would you mind carrying her out to the wagon? Jack and I will clear a space in the back.”
“Of course,” Mr. Greaves said. “Whatever you need. And, Megan, you will let us know if there’s anything we can do. We are more than willing to help with the girl.”
“Thank you, but I am sure we will be fine. It’s late, and apparently”—she offered a rueful smile—“there’s a lion on the loose. It’s past time we all returned home.”
Alexia ran through a field of blood-red flowers. The sun shone brightly overhead, and she felt … happy. It had been many years since she’d been truly happy—ever since the day of her fifth birthday.
She slowed at this thought. “What happened on my fifth birthday?” she wondered aloud. For a moment, she felt a stabbing in her heart, but just as quickly, the pain was gone. She darted forward again, laughing as she ran.
I’m going to pick some flowers for Mother. I just know she’ll give me a big hug when I bring them home! Once again, the thought of her mother brought a sharp stabbing to Alexia’s heart. Pushing it aside, she slowed and began collecting the most beautiful red wildflowers she’d ever seen. Laughing aloud, she grabbed armfuls of them, so many she was barely able to hold them all.
Jack Staples and the Ring of Time Page 5