The Emerald Atlas

by John Stephens

  “Like what?”

  Michael paused, straightening his glasses. “I’m not quite ready to share them.”

  Emma gave an annoyed huff, but it was obvious she wasn’t really annoyed, that she was glad things were back to how they used to be, with Michael driving her crazy. “I bet you that old man the Countess was talking about was Dr. Pym, though. You haven’t seen him, Michael. He really is a wizard.”

  “Really?! Did he do any magic?”

  “Well, me and Kate went to see him and he made a fire just like appear, didn’t he, Kate? And I think he’s got a magic pipe.”

  “What kind of pipe?”

  “How should I know? The magic kind, dummy.”

  “I meant, the kind you smoke or the kind you blow into?”

  “Duh, the kind you smoke. Does being in the past make everyone stupid?”

  Kate kept her ear near the door so she could listen to the sounds outside. But it was hard to concentrate. Her mind kept going back to what the Countess had said.

  Did you notice the oldest one, the girl? The book has marked her.

  She thought about what had happened in the bedroom, when she and Emma had been looking through photos, how she’d put her hand on the page and then watched as blackness spread across the parchment and up into her fingers. What had it done to her?

  “Kate …” Michael touched her arm. “I think Abraham’s led them away.”

  There were shouts and commotion from the other side of the house.

  Kate took hold of the handle. “I’ll go first. Just keep running. No matter what.”

  After the Screecher sent by the Secretary failed to find Kate and her siblings, pandemonium erupted in the dormitory. Children ran about, shouting, jumping on one another’s beds; a few of the younger ones began crying. Chaos reigned for several minutes. Then the door opened, and the Countess walked in. All became very still.

  She waved her hand. Instantly, candles were burning along the walls. She smiled, and the children felt themselves pulled toward her.

  “Where are they?” Her voice was comforting, sweet.

  No one answered.

  “I’m not going to hurt them. Goodness! I want to help them! They’re in great danger. Please. Tell me where they went.”

  There was something so gentle in the way she spoke. The children would tell her everything, about Abraham, about the secret passages, about Kate and Michael and Emma. She was their friend.

  “Where’re who?”

  The Countess looked at the boy who’d spoken. Stephen’s jaw was set tight and his arms were crossed. She bent close, letting her perfume drift over him.

  “The three who were brought here. Two girls and a boy. Oh, you’re just being silly!” She brushed his hair back playfully. “I know you know who I mean.”

  “They ain’t … they ain’t here.”

  “Yes, my love, that much I put together myself! Now, where did they go?”

  Stephen stared into the beautiful eyes. His fingers gripped his arms. He was fighting hard against the pull. She was the enemy. Like Abraham said. He had to show the others how to resist her. He forced a shrug.

  “Dunno. Just disappeared.”

  One of the children stifled a laugh. The Countess looked up, her eyes flashing.

  “They disappeared?”

  “Uh-huh. Like magic or something.”

  “Yeah,” another child said. “And there was a bang!”

  “And smoke,” said a third. “With lightning!”

  “Yeah! We had to jump out a’ the way!”

  “I see.” She’d lost them. Somehow they’d found their strength in this boy.

  The Secretary rushed in, panting and soaked, his hair webbed against his skull.

  “Did you find them?” the Countess snapped.

  He shook his head. “Just that crippled fool of a photographer. The lout was drunk again.”

  The Countess said: “Release the wolves.”

  The children gasped. Even the Secretary looked surprised.

  “Milady”—he giggled breathlessly—“forgive me, those beasts are not easy to control. They’ve been starved. Wisely, of course. Makes for more eager hunters. But what’s to stop them from tearing the children limb from limb?”

  “I suppose that’s a chance we’ll have to take, isn’t it?” She paused at the door and gestured toward Stephen. “Oh, and have that one taken to the boat.”

  “I hate this!” Emma cried as she landed face-first in another puddle. “I hate stupid rain!”

  Leaving the house, they’d sprinted the short distance to the trees without seeing a single Screecher, but since then, the going had been slow. The storm had turned the forest floor into a swamp, and their feet kept slipping into puddles or sliding off rain-slick leaves.

  Michael had fallen once, and they’d wasted precious minutes searching for his glasses. Emma had been particularly annoyed after she’d reached her hand into a mucky, nasty, wormy hole and the missing glasses turned out to be hanging from Michael’s ear.

  All three were soaking wet, extremely muddy, and tired.

  As she and Michael helped Emma to her feet, Kate wondered how far they had to go tonight. Where would be safe?

  Things seemed truly dismal.

  Then they heard the howl.

  It wasn’t a Screecher. But it came from the direction of the house. In seconds, there was a chorus of savage cries. Just as quickly, they died off.

  Kate said, “They’re coming.”

  The children ran like they’d never run before, ignoring the heaviness in their legs, the pain in their sides. Soon, Emma had pulled away. She disappeared through a tangle of bushes. As Kate ducked under a branch, she heard her sister shriek. A second later, she and Michael had pushed through the bushes, and Kate saw for herself.

  “No!”

  They were on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a dark valley lit up by lightning flashes. It was hundreds of feet to the bottom and nothing but sheer rock walls in either direction. Kate cursed herself, remembering their first day in the orphanage and how they had gone to the waterfall and savored the dizzy, excited rush of watching the river plunge over the cliff. She should’ve realized where they were heading.

  Another series of howls from the forest. Whatever was making that noise was getting closer.

  “What’re we gonna do?!” Emma cried.

  “There!” Twenty yards away, a narrow path twisted down the face of the cliff. Kate had no idea if it went all the way down, but it was their only hope.

  “Come on!”

  The path was steep and slippery, never more than a couple feet wide and usually much less. It zigzagged back and forth, and the children clung to each other as their shoes slid in the mud and gusts of wind tried to pull them into the void. They descended thirty feet, fifty, seventy-five, the rain lashing their faces.

  Bringing up the rear, Kate kept glancing over the side, hoping the valley floor would come into view. If only they could get to the bottom, they would have a chance. They could find a cave to hide in or—

  “Kate!”

  Emma had stopped and was pointing up the cliff. Kate looked upward as lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the outline of an enormous wolf poised at the top. The creature let loose a howl that echoed over the valley.

  “Run!” she screamed.

  Any caution that remained was cast away. They raced along the path, their feet miraculously finding the bits of firm earth amid the mud. Thirty more feet—fifty. Kate spared a glance skyward. A half dozen of the creatures were tearing down the path at breakneck speed, headlong and reckless. As Kate watched, the pack collided at a corner, there was a yelp, and one dark body dislodged from the mass.

  “Get back!”

  She grabbed Emma, and the two of them and Michael flattened themselves against the rock as the flailing, snarling creature fell past, inches away.

  “Okay,” she panted, her heart pounding in her throat, “we’re okay.”

  “No,�
� Michael said.

  “Yes, we just have to hurry.”

  “No! Look!”

  Kate peered around Emma to see where he was pointing, and her legs almost gave out. The path continued a few yards, then disappeared into space. Literally just stopped. She felt herself wanting to give up. To sit down and have it be done. But another, stronger voice spoke inside her and said it wasn’t going to end this way. She wouldn’t allow it. Squinting through the rain and darkness, she saw that the path did in fact continue, but twelve feet further on. She quickly weighed their options. The valley floor was finally visible, but it was still a hundred feet straight down. Retreat was hopeless. The wolves were on the path and getting closer with every second. There was no other choice.

  “We have to jump!”

  “Are you crazy?!” Michael yelled.

  “It’s the only way!”

  Just then a wolf let out a long, heart-shuddering howl.

  “Right,” Michael said, and he turned, took three steps, and leapt into the darkness.

  Kate and Emma held their breath as he hung in the air. Luckily, the other part of the path was lower, and he landed with a couple feet to spare, falling forward onto his hands and knees.

  Then the lip of the path gave way.

  Kate started to scream, but Michael was already scrambling to safety. Not wasting another moment, she turned to Emma. “You’ll have to jump farther. You can do it.”

  “I know.” Emma’s eyes had a fierce, determined gleam. She crouched and took off running, kicking back flecks of mud as she threw herself into the air. Michael stood at the edge of the path, ready to catch her if she was short.

  Emma landed on top of him.

  Kate heard the thud of impact and Michael’s “Oomph!” as they fell in a tangle. She couldn’t help but be impressed. Unfortunately, the impact had caused another two feet of the path to crumble into space.

  At the top of her vision, Kate sensed movement and without looking she dropped to the ground. A body passed over her, jaws snapping at the air where she’d been. There was a frenzied yelping as the wolf plunged over the side, unable to stop itself. Kate stood in time to see it disappearing into the darkness below. Looking up, she saw that the rest of the pack wasn’t far behind. There was no time to wait.

  She ran the few steps and leapt. But as she jumped, her foot slipped in the mud, and the moment she was airborne, she knew she wasn’t going to make it. She stretched out her arms, but she could see Emma and Michael falling past her, screaming her name as they reached out their hands. It was just too far. But then, miraculously, an enormous gust of wind swept up the face of the cliff and pushed her forward. Her chest slammed into the path. The breath was knocked out of her. She scrabbled for a grip in the mud, but she was sliding backward, falling.

  Then two pairs of hands were pulling her to safety.

  A moment later, all three children were on their knees in the mud, holding each other, shaking with relief. Even with the rain and the wind, Kate would happily have stayed like that all night. But she knew they still weren’t safe. The leap that had almost killed her would be nothing to a wolf. She pulled away and looked back up the cliff. The pack was rounding the last corner, close enough for the children to hear their harsh animal panting.

  “If only I had a sword!” Michael said.

  Kate seriously doubted that would’ve done much good, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “Help me.”

  She started jumping up and down at the edge of the path. The ground was soft and unsupported and the rain had weakened it even further. Twice Kate slipped as earth fell away, but both times her brother and sister pulled her back. In seconds, the children had widened the gap from fifteen feet to eighteen to twenty until by the time the first wolf launched itself into the air, there was a twenty-five-foot chasm.

  And perhaps it was fear, or exhaustion, or the knowledge that if the wolf did reach them, then further flight was pretty much pointless, but the children didn’t run. They just stood there, rain-soaked and mud-splattered, watching the great beast fly toward them.

  It’s not enough, Kate thought. He’s gonna make it.

  The wolf crashed into the end of the path. The children fell back instinctively, but the animal didn’t attack. Kate saw it hadn’t actually made the jump. The lower half of its body was thrashing in the air as it clawed at the loose rocks and mud, its huge jaws snapping furiously. Then the creature lurched forward, heaving itself upward, its hind legs finding purchase. And just as the cry to run rose in Kate’s throat, four feet of earth gave way, taking the wolf with it.

  Kate exhaled, unaware till then that she’d been holding her breath. She squinted through the rain at the three remaining wolves. They were crowded at the end of the path, a growling, quivering mass. She could feel their hunger, but she knew they wouldn’t chance the leap.

  “What’s a’ matter, you big chickens!” Emma yelled. “Come and get us!”

  The wolves spun about and raced up the path, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Look at that!” Emma said, turning to Michael and Kate in triumph. “They’re giving up.”

  “Unlikely,” Michael said. “They’re probably looking for another way down.”

  “Come on,” Kate said.

  It was only another sixty feet to the bottom, and they reached it quickly. The bodies of the wolves who’d fallen lay broken on the rocks. Kate looked up the cliff, but she couldn’t see the rest of the pack.

  She heard Emma saying that she bet Miss Crumley had planned all this, and Michael replying that he very much doubted that, and Emma saying something about Michael’s head being shaped like a turnip.

  She shut them out and tried to think. It was raining harder than ever. They were all exhausted. She had no idea how long it would take the wolves to find another way down; the question was, should they keep running, or did they immediately start looking for a place to hide?

  “Kate …”

  “Let me think.”

  “Kate.” Emma tugged on her arm. Kate turned.

  Thirty yards away, a dark shape was moving over the tops of the boulders.

  “Run!”

  They broke for the trees. A growl erupted behind them. They struggled up a small rise. Every second, Kate expected to feel the weight of the animal on her back. Keep going, she told herself, just keep going.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she emerged from the trees to a clearing at the top of the hill and slammed into Michael and Emma, almost knocking them down.

  “Don’t stop! We—”

  The words died in her throat. A wolf was crouched in front of them.

  For a long moment, no one moved. The creature’s gray fur was matted with rain; its mouth hung open, teeth bared in a hideous grin, as a low growl emanated from its gut. Emma and Michael were frozen. It was up to her to do something. What if she ran right at it? The beast wouldn’t be expecting that. It might give her brother and sister time to get away. The fact that she wouldn’t survive didn’t faze her in the least. Readying herself, Kate saw another wolf step out of the rain, its head low, its eyes fixed and murderous. Then a sound at her back told her the first wolf had closed the circle. And she finally understood: there was nothing she could do. They were going to die here.

  “Kate—” Emma said, her voice shaking.

  “Hold hands,” Kate said. They did, standing back to back in a circle. “Now close your eyes,” Kate commanded. “Do it!”

  Michael and Emma obeyed, but Kate kept her eyes wide open, watching the wolves circle. This was her responsibility. Her failure. She wouldn’t spare herself seeing it through.

  She locked eyes with the largest wolf, letting it know she wasn’t afraid. She no longer felt the rain whipping at her face, the fatigue in her body. Her mother flashed through her mind. I’m sorry, Kate thought, I did everything I could.

  The animal crouched low, gathering itself.

  Kate squeezed Emma’s and Michael’s hands and whispered, “I love you,” as the wolf
launched itself into the air.

  The animal’s teeth never reached her.

  There was the sound of fast, heavy footsteps, of something swinging through the rain. The wolf saw it coming and tried to change directions but was already committed. The object, a long gray blur, was in Kate’s vision for an instant, then it struck the wolf in the head, close and loud enough for Kate to hear the creature’s skull shatter.

  Then a man was beside them. He was huge, a giant. His long dark hair obscured his face, and thick chains hung from either wrist. With fierce growls, the two remaining wolves threw themselves at the man. He caught one in midair and broke the creature’s neck with a dull crack. The second fastened itself on the man’s arm, sinking its fangs deep into his flesh. He wrenched the creature away and threw it as a normal person might a cat. It struck a boulder and fell to the ground, dazed. The man took two long strides, put his boot on the animal’s neck, and stepped down. There was a thick crunch. The wolf lay still.

  He walked back to the children. Michael and Emma had opened their eyes and were staring up at the man with wonder. He loomed over them, his face hidden in shadow, but even so, Kate recognized him. He was the man who’d attacked the Countess that day at the dam.

  He said: “Come with me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gabriel

  It went like this: Kate would pick out a tree or boulder and she’d tell herself, That far, I’ll just go that far, and while she walked, she wouldn’t allow herself to think about how wet and heavy her clothes were, how they chafed against her skin with every step, how the muscles in her legs had been replaced with so much unresponsive mud; she would only think, That far, I’ll make it that far. Then, when she reached whatever rock or tree she’d picked out, she’d look forward, past the giant man, through the rain and the darkness, to single out another tree or rock, and do it all again.

  She glanced at Michael. He had entered a state of numb, mindless plodding. His head had drooped to his chest, and water was sluicing off his nose as he put one wobbly foot in front of the other. But even so, he was doing better than Emma. She had actually fallen asleep while walking. The third time it happened—after she’d tripped and woken herself up with a “Huh? Who did that?”—the giant man had turned and scooped her into his arms. Kate had expected protests. Emma never let adults coddle her. But her sister had just curled up and gone to sleep.