I wasn’t sure which hall he was talking about, but I didn’t want to hang out with my new bestie since he seemed to have more important things to do, like perfecting his scowl. I walked into the circular entry and past the large wall painting only to discover it had concealed a grand tiled hallway that stretched on behind it. My footfalls echoed as I walked by people carrying packages, crates and furniture.
When I reached the end, I looked through an archway to my left, leading outside. A cool breeze brushed against my skin. I stepped onto a rock path lined with a series of trees. Stone sculptures of men and women stood in a shallow canal beside the walkway. Dried up reeds and plants hung over the edge. Short hedges created a labyrinth and I found myself winding my way through. At its end, I spotted a tall stone tower. Beside it, a long balcony overlooked a valley of trees, offering a breathtaking view.
Not having come for the scenery, I went straight to the Hall of Record’s door and went in. My eyes had to adjust to the low light, which took a minute. Slowly, I made out the forms of bookcases trimming the walls. Multiple levels, with their own narrow balconies, rose above me. Crates filled with books and parchment were stacked on the floor, and open sections on shelves were left bare. A unique rounded crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. I thought I loved Grandpa’s study, but I’d never seen a place like this before.
“Who are you?” a scratchy voice asked from behind.
The unexpected company made my heart lunge out of my chest, or at least that’s what it felt like. With my blood pounding in my ears, I spun around to face a white-haired man wearing a dusty cap. His eyes widened from my quick movement, and I felt his pointer finger press into my chest. “Well, young man? Have you come to help me move my books?”
I stepped away from his hand, rubbing my chest and the sore spot he left behind. “No, I came because I was told you keep track of all people and events in the city. Well, I’m looking for my grandpa—Nimrod Vale. I wonder if you’ve heard of him?”
The record keeper coughed and shook his head. “You mistake me for someone who has the time for trivial problems like yours. Did you see the water line on your way in? There are more pressing issues right now. I’m packing everything for my travels east.”
“You’re moving?”
The old man brushed past me to one of the shelves. He picked up two books, then placed them in an open crate. “Not too smart are you? The Hall of Records is a place for educated people.”
“I’m educated,” I said, unhappy the old man had just insulted me. “I’m not from here, but I can see that you’re moving. I just don’t know why.”
“Ever since the earthshakes a few moons back, water flows slowly from the spring. One of the requirements of life is water. No water, no city. Simple as that.” The record keeper continued to pack away the books and journals, although at a very slow rate.
I palmed one of the pieces of parchment to skim it, desperate for anything that could point me to my grandpa. The old man walked up to me, pulled it from between my fingers and said, “If you’d like to find me in the new city once I’m reorganized in six months—eh, maybe a year—you’re welcome to visit again then. So, if you’re not here to help, then you best be on your way.”
The condescending way he spoke to me was aggravating, but there didn’t appear to be any way around him. He was the one person who was stopping me from getting what I was looking for. Unsurprisingly, I’d hit a dead end. I exited the hall defeated.
I walked along the path, leading back the way I’d come. To my right a balcony overlooked the side of a sharp cliff. Tall columns rose above me, holding up a rail made of stone. I stopped to take in the view and to feel sorry for myself. I may not have gone into a dangerous world, but I’d taken a chance coming here, and it hadn’t paid off. I pushed at a rock with the tip of my shoe, then leaned down to pick it up. I wrapped my fingers around the pebble and threw it as hard as I could, watching it hurtle over the trees far below.
“I used to do that when I was a child,” a soft voice said from nearby.
I turned my head and lifted my eyes. High above, sitting on the railway of stone, a girl gazed down at me. I returned her stare in silence not sure how to respond, because, well, I’m me. I quickly turned to face the view, uncertain of what else to do. Between the awkwardness and embarrassment at practically being called a child by a girl, I stared at the cliff in the distance.
I heard movement and felt sand rain onto the top of my head. She’d slid from her seat and was scaling down the ledges built into the column like it was as easy as walking. When she was five feet from the ground, she dropped with bent knees to the path beside me.
She straightened and joined me at the balcony. I realized my mouth was open, so I clamped my jaw shut before I looked like a drooling idiot. Trying not to appear obvious, I got a closer look. She seemed to be a few years older than me. Intricately braided black hair hung down her back, although a few locks had been ripped free around her hairline, giving her a wild look. She wore a pair of leather pants and a loose fitting cotton blouse. Dirt was smeared across her nose and cheek.
“I’ve never seen you in the gardens before. You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
I shook my head in response, my confidence lost. Why was it that I never fit in?
“You wouldn’t know it, but people used to come from distant lands to see the pride of Crystal Springs—the Crystal Falls. Now it’s been dammed so we can keep enough water to supply the town. And even that isn’t enough.”
I recalled the painting that hung at the entrance of the citadel and said, “I saw a picture of the waterfall—it must have been nice.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s beautiful, but my favorite is the fountain at night. It’s been over a month since the water flowed. I can’t help but wonder if we still employed masons we could have solved the problem.” She sighed and murmured, “But, father thinks it’s best to relocate from the city his parents created instead of looking for the builder’s records.”
“I was told an earthquake caused the problem? You can’t really fix that, can you?”
She gave me a melancholy smile and said, “That’s what everyone’s been told, but I don’t believe we’re helpless. This city was built by masons. They created the original aqueducts. There must be building records on Obo’s shelves, but he’s such a cranky old man he won’t let me in to look.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the Hall of Records. “Do you mean the record keeper?”
The girl brushed some dirt from the edge of the balcony and crossed her arms. “Yeah. He thinks he’s the most intelligent person here since he holds all the knowledge.”
“I was just in there asking for record of my grandpa. He wasn’t very helpful. Said he was too busy packing to look and to come find him in a year.”
“Sounds like old Obo.” She gave me a crooked grin and said, “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. I’m Kyrah.”
“Nim,” I said. “Well, it’s really Nimrod, after my grandfather.”
“Well, I hope you find him, Nim.”
I backed away from the balcony and scratched the top of my head. “Thanks. And I hope you find a way to stay and fix the water problem.”
Kyrah shrugged. “It may be hard, but I’m determined not to move if I can help it. It was nice talking to you, Nim—if you need company, you can usually find me in the gardens.”
I backed away from the balcony and nodded. I knew that wasn’t likely to happen. At present, I didn’t really care about this fictional town or their water issues.
Every step I took out of the citadel made me more and more angry. As far as I was concerned, I had wasted my time. I hadn’t gotten any closer to finding my grandpa, and I was without my friend. I’d readjust to being alone, but I couldn’t help but feel upset at Pepper for breaking her promise. I thought she’d been just as excited as I was to discover if Grandpa was still alive.
Out on the street I shoved through the line of t
ownspeople maybe a little more roughly than I should have, but I was angry. It took me some time to weave through the masses and away from the citadel.
When I made it back to the main road I’d walked in on, a crowd of people and their caravans were leaving the city. Shopkeepers were closing their doors and gathering their containers to walk back the way I’d come for their supply of water.
I’d had enough of this place. All I could think about now was how alone I was. There was no good reason to resent the fact that the portal into this story was so far from town, but I griped about it anyway. The wagons were moving faster than I was up the hill, so I tried my best to beat them, falling out of breath nearly as quickly as I started.
It didn’t help that I had on leather—probably the worst thing to wear while in movement. It irritated my skin and made me sweaty. Or more sweaty. And smelly. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the leather’s fault, but I was miserable and looking for things to complain about.
If I’d had my watch, which I didn’t, I’d know how much time had passed since I left the city. I felt as if I’d just run a twenty minute mile (everyone at school can do it in under six), but what do you expect out of someone who’s the equivalent of a human sloth?
The summit of the ridge came into view along with the dark rock wall, looming high into the treetops. I now knew why the soldiers didn’t care if people were coming or going from this dying city. After I was clear of the gate, and just as I reached the bridge over the stream, I slowed down. I was ready to be done with this place, but my body didn’t seem to be on the same page as me. My heart was still thundering in my chest from the exertion. This wouldn’t do. What if I’d needed to leave in a hurry? How did I know there wasn’t some giant goliath around the corner, ready to grind me into gravy on the side of the road? I didn’t like thinking about being turned into a grease stain. As much as I hated the idea, I decided that if I was going to continue going into stories to find Grandpa, I needed to get into better shape. I wasn’t ready to jump on the health train with Aunt Holly, but exercising more was a good start.
I walked all the way past the farm houses and forest until I spotted my stacked rocks on the side of the road. The leaf-covered slope was steep. I nearly whimpered as I looked at its crown. It had been quite easy to run down it, but now…
I surveyed the area as I took a moment to rest. The hill dropped lower a little further down the road, so I jogged to an easier place to climb up. Using an exposed tree root, I pulled myself up, and I was off through the forest, running in (hopefully) the right direction. While I moved between the white trunks of the trees, I wondered if a compass would even work inside of one of the stories. I decided it was something to try another time.
After running a short distance, I slowed down to listen to my surroundings. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of water. Relief overcame me when I saw the reflective surface of the lake through the trees. I rushed forward out of the wilderness. I looked to my left while I held my breath, eager to find the shimmering portal home.
Just beyond some bushes, I spotted it. Nothing could have stopped me from hurtling myself through. Nothing short of a zombie clown or land shark, that is. Lucky for me neither turned up, so I ran to the light-filled rectangle and stepped inside.
Unexpected News
I blinked.
I was at Grandpa’s desk again. Daylight no longer poured in from the window in the attic. It was nearly dark out.
I didn’t need a mirror to know my hair had rearranged itself into a shaggy mess, so I combed my fingers through it before grabbing my phone from the desk and turning it on. It wasn’t quite six thirty, which was a relief. Aunt Holly wouldn’t have dinner ready just yet. I peeled off the restrictive leather uniform. There was just enough time to squeeze in a quick shower.
With the day’s clothes wadded up in my arms, I went down the steep attic stairs in my underwear and peered into the hallway. It was clear so I rushed into the bathroom and cleaned up before dinner. Clothed in my sweatpants and T-shirt, I picked up my phone from the desk in my room. When I turned it on, it graciously told me that I was just as unpopular as earlier that day, and no, Pepper hadn’t contacted me at all. I dropped it onto my bed before going downstairs.
“Hey there—I thought I’d try out a new recipe. Feta and spinach stuffed chicken breast.” Aunt Holly paused to look at me. “Don’t make that face at me. You’ll like it, and if you don’t you’ll say you do, because you know how much work I put into it.”
I joined her at the counter to frown at the plates steaming with hot food. With a sigh I grabbed our dinner to put it on the table. Her voice trailed after me as I left the room. “Will it just be the two of us tonight?”
My jaw tightened, and I grimaced at the wall before setting down our dinner. Her constant questions were really starting to drive me crazy. The only thing that’s worse than knowing you don’t have any friends is everyone else knowing you don’t too.
Silence was my intended answer. She sat beside me and set a cup of tea next to my hand. She pointed her fork at my plate and said, “Try it. You can’t glare your way out of it.”
With a groan I picked up my silverware and cut off a bite. I waved it around before very deliberately placing it in my mouth. The flavors touched my tongue, and even though I was in a mood to hate it, I couldn’t help but enjoy.
“What do you think?”
I shrugged.
Aunt Holly took a bite, chewed and said, “I know why you’re so unhappy.”
“Yeah, I think we went over it earlier. Pepper.” And the list could continue all night.
“What’d she say to you?”
Aunt Holly had touched on the problem. Pepper hadn’t said a word, and the last time we’d talked it seemed as if everything was fine. At least to me. Though, I’m a guy, so I may not have the most sensitive “girl radar” for issues.
“I’ll take your speechlessness as an answer. Has she been giving you the silent treatment? It’s a powerful weapon, isn’t it? It can hurt more than words.”
Why was Aunt Holly choosing this moment to be all wise and level-headed with me? I wanted to hear her say what a mean, rude person Pepper was and to forget her as a friend.
Or did I?
Aunt Holly rested her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. She looked at me with sympathetic eyes and said, “What if she’s not trying to hurt you? What if there’s something wrong, and she doesn’t know how to reach out to you?”
That was rich. I couldn’t keep my laughter in and snorted. “Pepper not being able to talk to me? When has that ever happened?”
“Everyone has weaknesses. You may think you know her well, but do you even know what’s wrong now? Do you know why she’s been avoiding you?”
“How would I know that?” I spat. “She’s not talking to me.”
Aunt Holly tucked some of her frizzy hair behind her ear and said, “That might be the problem, Nim. A good friend listens, but knows when to talk. Do you ever talk to her? Ask her things?”
What was Aunt Holly’s point? Whenever Pepper and I were together, we were always talking. I mean, Pepper did most of the talking, or more like ninety percent. It would be humanly impossible for me to talk as much as her.
“You know I’m a boy, right? And that I don’t like talking?” I put another bite of food on my fork and thrust it into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say anything more.
Something soft touched my forearm, and I realized it was Aunt Holly’s hand. With a serious but gentle voice, she said, “I know. But, I also know you care about your friend. And friends care to find out about how their friends are doing. Maybe if she’s not contacting you, you could check in on her.”
“Pepper style?”
“Exactly.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “If she slams the door in my face, it’s your fault.”
“You’re always hiding away in the house, it would do you good to see daylight.”
“You’re just as pale as I
am,” I said, defending myself.
“Not what I meant. I have some things to do around here, but why don’t you stretch your legs?”
I sighed at the mention of exercise. “You don’t have a bike I can use, do you?”
Aunt Holly’s forehead wrinkled as she thought about it. “Yeah, last time I looked there were two in the shed out back. The tires are probably flat, but I think the pump’s around.”
I pushed away from the table without finishing my dinner, although I’d eaten more than half without noticing. While I walked from the room, I called out, “I’ll be back soon.”
“Did you get your homework done?” she asked hopefully.
There were more important things to worry about than homework, I decided. I wanted to know with confidence that I still had a friend. Because if I didn’t, I figured I could always go back to being a lonely social reject who cared about no one. But, I’d grown accustomed to being part of a team and having a sidekick. I wouldn’t have admitted it out loud though.
I flipped on the lights to the backyard and followed the pavestones to the shed. The latch was rusty. It took some effort to jiggle open, but when I finally did I discovered two cobweb-covered bikes. One had large swooping handles that would go well with a pair of bell bottoms and a paisley shirt. It appeared to have fallen straight out of a nineteen sixties Sears catalog, complete with a basket fastened to the front. Its pea green paint was faded, but I preferred the color and style of the other bike: gun metal gray. I didn’t know much about them, but written across its length it claimed to be a Rugged Mountain Bike. The only problem was, it had two very flat tires.
I looked under a utility table covered with tins of paint and found the tire pump Aunt Holly had mentioned. I’m not very handy, but I figured it was a simple enough concept. Squatting down beside the bike, I found a little metal tube that came out of the rubber tire and unscrewed the cap. Then, I fixed the end of the pump to it. My weak arms moved up and down like I was doing the chicken dance. It didn’t take long for me to get out of breath. I stopped to check the tire, sure that it had to be full after the amount of energy I’d put into it. I was stunned to realize that the metal frame of the bike tire was still sitting on the ground, not having risen at all.
The Stone Key (The Novel Adventures of Nimrod Vale Book 2) Page 3