Dr. Pym told Gabriel, “Go. We will catch up,” and the giant man turned and like that was gone. Dr. Pym instructed Robbie to put together a larger group and follow as quickly as he could. “Come, children. I fear your sister is about to make a grave mistake.” And the three of them set off after Gabriel.
As they hurried along the dark tunnel, Dr. Pym pressed Michael and Emma to tell him what they knew. There was no mistaking his seriousness, and Michael and Emma held nothing back. They told him about Kate’s vision, about the Countess gathering the children onto the boat, about the dam being destroyed, how all the children had died. They told him that Kate believed the vision was a warning.
“I should have been more careful,” Dr. Pym muttered, striding faster and faster. “I only pray we are in time.”
When they emerged from the tunnel onto the side of the mountain, Gabriel was kneeling, studying the earth in the moonlight.
“I do not understand. The tracks show the man ran off alone down the path. But the girl”—he paused, glancing at Emma and Michael—“her tracks say she stepped off the cliff. I do not think she was pushed. But nor do I see a body on the rocks below.”
“What?!” Emma’s voice spiked with panic. “No! You gotta be wrong! I’m sorry, Gabriel, but it’s dark and all; you probably just didn’t see it right! Read those tracks or whatever again!”
Dr. Pym was looking at the line the Secretary had drawn in the dirt.
“There is no body,” he said, “because Katherine is with the Countess.”
He explained that the line was a portal.
“So can’t we use it too?” Michael asked.
“No. It was designed to transport one person. Stepping across it now would mean stepping to your death.” He wiped it out with the toe of his shoe. There was the sound of footsteps, and Robbie and several other dwarves, along with a few men, came sprinting out of the tunnel. “We are too late,” Dr. Pym said. “The Countess has her. Gabriel and I and the children will go immediately to Cambridge Falls. When your forces are mustered, lead them down this path. It will take you to the town.”
“You’re mad,” the dwarf gasped. “If the girl’s with the witch, our goose is cooked. Anyway, take you bloody hours to get to town on foot.”
“Then we mustn’t dawdle. Just follow the path.” Nodding to Gabriel and the children, he started down the trail, moving with his brisk, long-legged stride.
“Dr. Pym!” Michael and his sister hurried after him, struggling not to trip as the rocky path snaked down the mountain, Gabriel following close behind. “King Robbie’s right. It’ll take us hours to get there like this.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, “why don’t you make one of those portal things?”
“Unnecessary. I know a shortcut. Stay close now.”
As he said this, the children noticed that they were walking into some kind of mist or cloud, which was strange since moments before the sky had been perfectly clear. Soon the mist became so thick that Dr. Pym ordered Michael and Emma to hold hands so that neither wandered off the edge of the cliff. They followed the wizard by the dim outline of his back, and, when that had been swallowed up, by his voice, calling to them through the fog, “Careful now, there’s a tricky bit here. Careful …” Then, as if not being able to see wasn’t bad enough, their other senses began playing tricks on them. They smelled trees they knew weren’t there, heard nonexistent water slapping against a bank; even the rocky slope of the mountain seemed to level out and become soft. Michael was just making a mental note to do more research on the disorientating effects of fog when Dr. Pym announced:
“And here we are.”
Michael gasped.
“How …,” Emma began.
“I told you,” Dr. Pym said, “I knew a shortcut.”
They had stepped out of the fog and were standing at the edge of the lake in Cambridge Falls, looking out across the moonlit water. Michael glanced back to see Gabriel emerge from a misty tunnel in the trees. Once he’d joined them, Dr. Pym went on:
“My friends, we have reached the most difficult part of our task. I needn’t remind you of the lives at stake. Katherine and the children are on the boat with the Countess. I will see to them. Gabriel, you’d best hurry to the dam. I fear the Countess may have sabotaged it. Do what you can.”
“I’ll go with Gabriel,” Emma said. “He might need me.” She looked up at the giant man. “You might.”
“Very well,” Dr. Pym said. “Michael, my boy, you’re with me. Quickly now, and good luck to us all.”
Kate closed her eyes and called up the image of the book-lined room: she pictured the fire in the grate, the snow falling outside, Dr. Pym at his desk with his pipe and cup of tea; she saw her mother enter, heard her say that Richard was still at the college; every detail was vivid and clear.…
Kate opened her eyes and saw the red satin curtains, the armchairs upholstered in deep velvet, the mahogany-and-gold table; from the corner, a Victrola played a high, haunting melody as gas lamps flickered on the walls, the light refracting through an ornate crystal chandelier. She sighed. She was still on the boat. Still in the Countess’s cabin.
“Katrina, you are testing my patience.”
The Countess was wearing a black gown that made her white skin almost luminescent, and in the wavering light, her eyes changed from violet to indigo to lavender in the space of moments. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked at Kate with a bored expression.
Since she had arrived on the boat, nothing had gone as Kate had planned. Starting with her demand to see the children …
“My dear, that’s quite impossible. But I admire how you’re always thinking of others. We’re very alike in that way.”
“If you’ve hurt any of them, I won’t help you get the Atlas.”
“Oh, oh, oh, look who’s learned the name of her magic book! Brava, ma chérie!”
“I mean it!” Kate had shouted, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep the quaver out of her voice. “I’ll let you kill me first. I know about the monster you keep here.”
“Aren’t you clever! As it happens, I released that nasty thing before I came aboard. I thought it could greet the townsmen when they arrive.”
“What? You can’t! You—”
“Now now, did you come to save the children or a mob of loutish townsmen? I’m afraid you can’t do both.”
“Fine,” Kate had snapped, telling herself that Dr. Pym and Gabriel were more than a match for any of the witch’s creatures. “Let the children go, and I’ll get you the book.”
The Countess had clucked her tongue. “I think you’re confused about the order of things. First, you bring me the Atlas. Then, my charges go free.”
“That’s not—”
“Darling, be reasonable. You must know the children are my only protection! Not that I need protection from you; you’re an angel! But I suspect you’ve been consorting with some less than savory characters, dwarves and wizards and the like? I forgive you, of course. We all make mistakes when we’re young. I could tell you about a certain Italian dancing instructor. No, no, book first, children second!”
“But—”
“The instant I have it, I’ll release them! I give you my word!”
The Countess had looked at her with a taunting expression, and in that moment, Kate realized how fully she had placed herself in the witch’s power. Gripping the arms of her chair, she’d thought of the children locked somewhere in the belly of the ship and asked what it was she had to do.
“My love, it is the easiest thing in the world!”
Apparently, Kate had only to imagine the desired moment; then, once she held it firmly in her mind, she would, with the Countess’s assistance, be transported to that time and place. Did Kate remember when she and her brother and sister had first traveled into the past? How they had placed a photo upon the blank page?
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, you can’t imagine that the Atlas was designed, all those thousands of
years ago, for use with photos! The photo merely provided a clear image. Given a specific destination, whether through a photo, a drawing, an image in your mind, or even—if you had enough control, which, sadly, you do not—the statement, ‘Take me here,’ the Atlas would obey. We do not have the Atlas. However, some of its power now resides in you, and the same principle applies.”
So again and again, Kate had closed her eyes and pictured herself in Dr. Pym’s study, and again and again, she opened them to find herself still in the cabin.
Her frustration boiled over.
“It’s not working! You said you’d help me!”
“I am helping you,” the Countess sighed. “In ways you cannot understand. But are you truly imagining yourself in the past? Envisioning the exact moment in time in which you left our precious book?”
“Yes! I’m doing everything! Maybe I just can’t—”
“Shhh.” The Countess came and placed a hand on the back of Kate’s neck. The cabin was uncomfortably warm, and the young woman’s hand was cool. “You must relax or the magic will never come. How far into the past are we speaking of?”
Kate exhaled, wanting to knock away the Countess’s hand and at the same time loving how good it felt.
“… Four years.”
“Four years. And where are you? Describe it.”
“It’s a room. Like a study. There’s a fire. It’s snowing outside. Dr. Pym is there.”
“Anyone else?”
Kate thought of lying, but what was the point? She needed the Countess’s help.
“My … mother. She comes in.”
The Countess let out a small “Ah,” as if Kate had just shown her something beautiful. “And how do you feel about your mother?”
“I love her.”
“Of course you do. But is that all? She did abandon you and your brother and sister.”
“She had to. They were protecting us.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
Kate had no answer.
“I see.” The Countess was caressing Kate’s hair. “And when she went away, who did she leave to take care of your brother and sister?”
“She told me to.”
“But you were just a child!”
Kate knew the outrage was an act, but part of her couldn’t help responding, the same part that was worn out with the strain of caring for Michael and Emma, the part that for so long had prayed for someone to come and say, “It’s okay. You can stop now. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
“Perhaps removing this will help.”
Kate saw the Countess’s hand pass before her; there was a flash of gold; and when she looked up, she had to stifle a cry. The Countess had somehow unclasped her mother’s locket.
“A gift from her, I’m guessing. You were touching it as we spoke.”
“That’s mine—”
“Oh hush. This memory is about your mother. That’s why the wizard chose it. Your feelings are the gateway. You feel love, yes, and loss. But that’s not all.” Her fist closed over the locket. “Magic such as this demands you lay yourself bare. Your parents deserted you. Tell me you don’t feel anger, frustration, even rage. If you want to save the children, you can’t shut anything out.”
“I’m not!”
“Continue to lie, and their deaths will be on your head.”
Kate tore away from the woman’s gaze. She found she was trembling.
“I know you’re afraid. But this is the only way.”
Kate could see the end of the chain, dangling; she could just reach out and grab it.
“Katrina.”
A long moment passed. Kate listened to the eerie melody from the Victrola, watched the gaslight wavering against the walls. She nodded.
“Good. Now close your eyes.”
Kate obeyed. Once more, she put herself in the study, imagining the falling snow, the smell of Dr. Pym’s tobacco, the fire. She pictured her mother coming in. And then, because nothing was happening, she finally let go, and all the anger and fear and doubt she’d held at bay for so long flooded her heart. Why had their parents abandoned them? What possible reason could they have had for leaving them on their own? For ten years, Kate had held their family together all by herself and the strain had almost broken her. She wondered if their parents had ever tried to find them. Or had they just walked away? Started a new life with—
There was a yank in her gut, and Kate knew it had happened.
She opened her eyes, and there was her mother, exactly as she’d left her, hand on the doorknob, mouth frozen in surprise. Kate glanced at Dr. Pym. He sat at his desk, smiling.
“Oh my.” Her mother took a step back. “You were just here, and then you … Oh my …”
Emma and Gabriel were crouched behind a fallen tree at the edge of the wood, forty yards from the dam. Three morum cadi with torches stood guard. Gabriel had unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. Two arrows more were stuck into the ground. He was waiting for a cloud to cover the moon.
Emma looked up past the mouth of the gorge to the wide black expanse of the lake. She tried to imagine the dam breaking and all that dark water rushing down and over the falls, carrying along the boat, the children, her sister, everything. They couldn’t let that happen.
“Gabriel …”
“Shhh.”
He’d turned and was staring into the trees behind them.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Something …”
A shadow swept over them, and Emma looked up to see the last glowing sliver of moon disappear from view. There was a soft swooft beside her, then another, and two of the torches fell burning to the ground and Gabriel was pulling back a third arrow; then it too was gone and Emma watched as the last remaining torch stumbled and vanished into the gorge.
“Quietly now,” Gabriel whispered. “There may be others inside.”
They ran across the open ground, Emma stepping around the smoking bodies of the Screechers as Gabriel paused to retrieve a torch. The top of the dam loomed over them, rising seven or eight feet above the lip of the gorge. Up close, the structure was massive, and Emma realized that she’d thought of the dam as a single solid block of wood. It wasn’t; there was a door, and Gabriel opened it, exposing a set of stairs going down. He went first, waving Emma forward when the way proved clear; then it was down two flights through the dank air, Gabriel’s torch lighting the steps, and out onto a kind of balcony.
“Whoa.” Emma stopped dead, staring.
Faint orangish lights were strung up throughout the dam, outlining a network of wooden beams that stretched from wall to wall like the ribs of some enormous beast. It felt strange to be standing there, with a dozen flights of stairs still below them and the body of the dam curving away; the impression was one of great space. At the same time, the front and back walls were only twenty feet apart, so everything seemed narrow and compressed. Emma gripped the railing to steady herself.
“Weird how it’s all hollow, huh?”
Gabriel didn’t respond.
“What’s that noise?” Emma asked.
An eerie, unmoored groaning rose and fell all around them.
“The pressure of the water causes the wood to rub against itself.”
Emma tried to picture the water massing against the curved face of the dam. It seemed to her she was in the belly of a giant wooden whale.
“There.”
She looked to where Gabriel was pointing. Far below, through the dim orange haze, she could make out a handful of green lights, spaced across the front of the dam.
“Gas mines. We have little time. When the light goes red, they will explode.”
Questions sprang to Emma’s mind: Exactly how long did they have? How did you turn a gas mine off? What was a gas mine? Before she could ask any of them, Gabriel shoved her to the floor and something flew past with a terrifying shriek.
Gabriel was on his feet instantly, whipping off his bow. Still flat on her stomach, Emma craned h
er neck upward. A dark shape was weaving between the beams of the dam, circling back in their direction. She watched as Gabriel’s arrow ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s hide. Two more arrows fared no better, and the creature landed vulture-like on a crossbeam a few yards above.
Nothing Emma had encountered, not the Countess’s Screechers, not the sightless, shadow-dwelling salmac-tar, nothing had prepared her for this. The thing had the body of a man—the same arms, legs, shoulders—but Emma’s first thought was of an enormous bat. It had leathery wings, long talons that gripped the wood, and a gray-black hide bristling with dark hairs. Its skull was oddly narrow, with eyes that were little more than black slits, and its lower jaw jutted out horribly, displaying dozens of needle-like teeth. Emma could almost feel them tearing through her flesh.
Gabriel dropped his bow as he lifted Emma to her feet.
“What … what is it?”
Gabriel unsheathed his falchion. The creature was watching them, hissing. “It is what the witch was keeping on the boat. I thought I sensed it in the woods.” He turned Emma so that she met his eyes. “You must defuse the mines. Everything depends on you. You understand?”
“What about—”
“Do not worry about me. And whatever happens, do not look up. Go!”
He gave her a shove toward the stairs. She paused to look back and saw the creature rise up, its wings spreading wide, jaws gaping, all those teeth gleaming in the darkness. She saw Gabriel raise his falchion.
Then she ran, the creature’s shriek following her down the stairs.
Michael and the old wizard were skimming across the lake toward the Countess’s boat. They’d found their own boat (“dinghy” was the word that occurred to Michael) abandoned on the shore.
“Ah, Providence!” Dr. Pym had exclaimed.
The boat’s oars proved unnecessary; Dr. Pym had merely whispered a few words, and the craft shot off, skipping over the surface of the water.
“But won’t they see us coming?” Michael was gripping the sides for support.
“Not to worry,” the wizard called back, the wind whipping away his words, “to the unfriendly eye, we will appear as no more than a patch of mist. Quiet now. We draw close.”
The Emerald Atlas Page 27