The End of Time

by P. W. Catanese

  Hap blinked back at her, and he nearly broke into a laugh, wondering how she would react if he did what she’d asked. All right, he imagined himself saying. About seven years ago I was a boy named Julian Penny. Then a stranger who we think is named Willy Nilly came and lured me to my death by drowning. He destroyed my memory and revived me as one of his own kind, something called a Meddler. That’s how I got these weird green eyes. Then he brought me forward in time and left me for Lord Umber to discover in a city buried under volcanic ash. Now I can see in the dark, I never sleep, and I can leap farther and higher than any man alive. Sometimes I see these strange threads of light called filaments that allow me to steer the course of fate. Lord Umber is delighted by that, because he himself came from another world without monsters or sorcerers or any magic at all, and that world was ruined when its technology went out of control and its civilization collapsed. Of course he brought some of that technology with him: All of the amazing inventions that he’s famous for have come from something called a computer, which contains his old world’s knowledge of science, music, engineering, medicine, and more. Now Lord Umber wants me to leap over to his world, back in time, and change its fate to save a billion people or more. I have no idea how to do that, and it scares the pants off me, but at least Lord Umber will come with me to help. And now you know all about me.

  Sable’s voice punctured his thoughts. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No,” he said, wagging his head and suppressing the grin that emerged while he’d been daydreaming. “But I don’t like talking about myself. I’d rather hear about how you got to Kurahaven.”

  “Oh, it was such a thrill!” she cried. While she told him, Hap tried to figure out exactly which part of the voyage she considered thrilling. She and Fay had found their way onto one of Umber’s merchant ships, which stopped at several distant ports before finally arriving in Kurahaven. The roundabout trip sounded blissfully uneventful compared to one of Umber’s hazardous jaunts. Sable was still recounting the nonadventure when Fay came down the stairs, looking grim and pale, with Balfour trudging close behind.

  “Let us go, Sable,” she said quietly.

  “My lady, please understand,” Balfour pleaded, raising his clasped hands. “I tried to warn you. Umber doesn’t mean to be rude when he’s in this state. Please don’t think poorly of him for it.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Fay said. Her eyes glistened. “That is not the man I knew.”

  “But he will be again,” Balfour said. “I promise you. And I’ll send for you as soon as he is. In the meantime, come downstairs and I’ll have the carriage take you to your inn. Later on I’ll escort you to the market and get anything you need. Those were Umber’s wishes.”

  They were in the gatehouse, waiting for Dodd to ready the carriage, when another, larger carriage with green doors and gilded wheels came up the causeway, pulled by a team of white horses. Balfour scowled as the carriage rolled to a stop.

  Hap recognized the sinewy, cold-blooded fellow who opened the door and stepped out. It was Larcombe, the head of Prince Loden’s personal guard. He licked his lips in a reptilian fashion, as was his constant habit, and smirked directly at Hap.

  “What can we do for you, Larcombe?” Balfour asked in a monotone.

  Larcombe grinned without saying a word and moved aside as Prince Loden stepped out of the carriage.

  Hap felt a jolt go through his body, and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. He hadn’t seen Loden in person since they’d returned. Once he had known Loden as the youngest of three princes. Now Loden was the only prince still living. Umber was convinced that Loden had murdered his eldest brother, Argent, by pushing him from the top of a mist-shrouded waterfall during a hunt. And Galbus, the middle prince, had died while Umber and Hap were away. It was said that Galbus tumbled down a flight of stairs in a drunken stupor—though he’d told Umber that his days of intoxication were behind him. As Umber was slipping into his dark mood, he’d mumbled that Loden was surely behind the death of Galbus as well.

  Hap and Umber had been fond of the middle prince, and now, with Loden before him, Hap battled to keep his temper in check. He wanted to scream; he wanted to pound that smug, handsome face with his fists.

  Prince Loden tugged at the hem of his embroidered tunic and jutted his chin. “I wish to speak to Umber.”

  “Lord Umber is not well,” Balfour said. “Your Highness,” he added dryly. His face, Hap saw, was flushed a dark shade of red.

  “What, moping again?” the prince asked with a sigh. “And after I’ve taken the trouble to come all the way up to this dreary rock.” He waited for a reply, but Balfour only stared back. Loden’s eyes narrowed. He seemed poised to rebuke Balfour when he noticed Fay standing nearby. In an instant his features rearranged themselves into an expert simulation of warmth and charm. “And who is this?”

  “My name is Fay. And this is my niece Sable.”

  “Fay,” Loden said, taking her hand and kissing it. “How can it be that you and I have never met before?”

  “We only just arrived, after escaping from Sarnica during the revolt,” Fay said. A blush flooded her cheeks.

  “Yes, I have just been informed of this uprising,” Loden replied. “A monarch overthrown, I hear.” Loden’s glance darted toward Hap, and Hap felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck quiver like grain in the wind.

  “A cruel tyrant, sir,” Fay replied. “And his son. The world will miss neither of those monsters.”

  “Aunt Fay was the princess of Sarnica,” Sable chirped. “But she didn’t want to be. Lord Umber and Happenstance saved us!”

  Loden bent with his hands on his thighs and smiled broadly at Sable. “Did they really! Still, we mustn’t make a habit of casting down monarchs, don’t you think?” He straightened and chuckled at his own joke, and Larcombe laughed with him. “Of course, I would say that—I am the prince of Kurahaven, and heir to the throne of this magnificent kingdom.”

  Bile rose in Hap’s throat when he saw Fay’s head tilt in admiration and heard the gasp of delight from Sable. Fay bowed her head. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not know whose presence I was in. I feel so ashamed, dressed in these ragged clothes . . .”

  This time Loden took both her hands. “My lady, no apology is necessary. You have my gratitude, in fact. I have spent many days mourning the death of my dear brothers. So my sadness has been as deep as Umber’s, but perhaps easier to understand. Now I find my spirit soaring again, just to look upon your face.”

  Fay bit her bottom lip. “I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness.”

  Hap glanced at Balfour, who looked ready to vomit.

  “You are as kind as you are lovely. But where are you staying while you visit my fair city?” Loden asked her.

  It’s not your city yet, Hap thought bitterly.

  “Balfour has arranged for us to stay at an inn,” Fay replied.

  “An inn! I won’t allow it,” Loden said. “I’d sooner plant a rosebush in a pigsty. You will come to the palace and stay in the rooms we reserve for visiting royalty.” Sable gasped again, and Loden turned to her. “Would you like that, little princess? The view will take your breath away, as your aunt has taken mine. Do you see my wonderful palace over there, the color of sand, rising above everything else? Do you see the balcony under the great clock tower? That is the porch outside your room!” Sable’s mouth hung open as she stared at the soaring tower.

  “Please tell me you’ll stay. I can always command you . . . I am the prince, you know!” Loden grinned and winked at Sable.

  “You are kind, Your Highness,” Fay said, looking downward. “But Balfour has—”

  “I’m sure my subject Balfour would want you treated like the royalty you are,” Loden said. He took her hand and gently pulled, leading her to his carriage. “Besides, I must hear about this revolt. A prince has to keep informed about such things. Really, I insist you come along, you and your lovely niece.”

  Fay shot back a look o
f regret, and called out as she stepped into the carriage. “Good-bye, Happenstance. Balfour, you will send word as soon as Lord Umber recovers?”

  “You can be sure of that,” Balfour said flatly.

  “That could be many weeks, unfortunately, if I know Umber,” Loden said, shaking his head. “These bouts of sadness are all too frequent.” He closed the door behind Fay and ambled back to where Balfour and Hap stood. “Tell me, you green-eyed whelp,” he whispered, leaning down. “Does Umber fancy this one?” He smirked as Hap’s eyes watered and his jaw trembled. “I think that answers my question!”

  Loden and Larcombe climbed into the carriage, the driver atop cracked his whip, and the white horses pulled the carriage in a tight circle and back down the causeway. Balfour watched it roll away with a hand clamped over his jaw, tapping his cheek with one finger.

  “Just think: That wretched sack of goblin droppings will be king one day.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Umber was brooding on the bench under the tree of many fruits. He lifted his chin an inch and stared at the trio before him. Hap’s heart ached to see the sunken cheeks and the dark crescents under his eyes.

  “What?” Umber muttered.

  “We’re going on a journey,” Balfour told him.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Please, Lord Umber,” Hap said. “Come with us.”

  Umber turned his face aside and tucked his hands under his armpits.

  “Go ahead, Oates,” Balfour said. “Gently, now.”

  Oates seized Umber by the arm, hauled him off the bench, and tossed him across his shoulder. Umber thumped the broad back weakly with his fists. “Put me down, you miserable oaf.”

  “Blame Balfour,” Oates said, and he led the way down the stairs, where they stepped onto the lift that would take them to the waiting carriage.

  Curious stares followed them as they walked up the plank and onto the deck of the Bounder. Captain Sandar watched with a bemused smile as Oates carried Umber through the hatch to the lower deck. Oates came out a moment later, shaking his head. “He said mean things to me.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” Balfour began to say, but Oates was suddenly staring at the crowded docks like a fox that had spotted a rabbit. Without a word of explanation, the big fellow raced down the plank, which bounced merrily under every heavy step. Hap saw a figure in the crowd spin and run. A terrible limp slowed his escape, and as Oates closed in, the stranger ducked behind a stack of cargo.

  Sophie peered down from the railing with her hand shading her brow. “Who is Oates chasing?”

  Oates looked left and right, and then leaned over to peer behind a row of crates. He reached down and pulled a flailing figure up by the collar, and then tossed whomever it was over his shoulder just as he’d carried Umber, but not as gently. When this fellow kicked and punched him, Oates squeezed his midsection, and the struggle ended. Soon Oates was back on the Bounder, where he dumped the man rudely onto the deck.

  The stranger landed on his stomach, and then turned over, coughing and wheezing. The face was covered with half-healed bruises, and the nose, which once was straight, had been bent to one side, but Hap still recognized the man. He spit the name out like a bug he’d nearly swallowed. “Hameron!”

  “Saw him skulking around on the dock, watching us,” Oates said.

  Hameron got to his knees, rubbing an elbow, and glared at Oates. “I would have come on board if you’d asked, you beast.”

  Balfour grinned down at Umber’s rival. “Hello, Hameron. Umber wondered if you’d made it through the rebellion alive.”

  “Barely,” Hameron said, standing up and wincing. “But this leg will never heal right. And look at my nose, my face!” He poked his bent, broken nose. Hap noticed that a third of his teeth were missing.

  “Looks like you took a beating,” Balfour said, trying to temper his smile.

  “Yes. Because somebody released a bunch of angry prisoners who decided to take their wrath out on me,” Hameron replied, glaring at Hap.

  “You’re lucky they didn’t kill you,” Hap replied. It wasn’t his way to talk back to adults, but he couldn’t help himself with Hameron.

  “Hmph,” Hameron said. “Well, I lost everything, thanks to you people.”

  “And you’re following us for what reason?” Balfour asked. “Revenge?”

  “Hardly,” Hameron said. “I’m not the vengeful type. But I am destitute, and it’s all Umber’s fault. It’s compensation I want.”

  “Compensation?” Balfour looked at Oates, and they both roared with laughter.

  Hameron puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “Restitution for my losses. And my suffering! It’s only fair. Those were my dragon eggs that Umber stole. And I had to escape from Sarnica with nothing but the clothes on my back and the coins in my pocket.”

  Balfour bent with laughter, and finally wiped the tears from his eyes and collected himself. “Oh, you are an amusing fellow, Hameron. Compensation, ha-ha!”

  Hameron’s mouth cinched tight and his face turned purple. “I demand to speak to Umber. And speaking of which . . . why did this great buffoon carry Umber onto the ship?”

  Balfour shook his head and chuckled again. “Oh, you’ll speak to Umber eventually. Not yet, though. But I think we may have something in the way of compensation for you, Hameron.”

  Hameron raised an eyebrow and waited.

  “See, you’re going on a journey with us,” Balfour told him, thumbing toward the sea. “And if you help us do something, Umber might see fit to reward you. How much of a reward will be up to him, but you know he’s a generous soul.”

  “Help you do what?” Hameron’s eye narrowed to a squint.

  “Ah—this is why your appearance is so timely,” Balfour replied. “You’re just the man to help us take the dragon eggs back where they belong. Since you’re the one who stole them in the first place.”

  Hameron’s jaw dropped like a trapdoor. “Take them back? Tell me you’re not that crazy!”

  “We truly are,” Oates said, shaking his head.

  “That is more dangerous than you can imagine,” Hameron said, backing away. “Sorry, Balfour. You can leave me out.” He turned to limp down the plank. But after a nod from Balfour, Oates’s meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. Hameron shrieked.

  “Lock him up till we’re at sea, Oates,” Balfour said. He tapped his fingertips together. “You know something, Hap? I think I’m getting the hang of this adventuring stuff.”

  The sea billowed with long, rolling waves, so that the Bounder was rarely level. She rose up one watery slope, burst through its foaming crest, and plunged down the other side.

  Sophie nudged Hap with her elbow and pointed to the starboard railing, where Hameron leaned over, sending a jet of half-digested food into the green sea. He turned toward them, sweaty and pale-faced, and wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “I despise ocean travel,” he said. A deep, wet hiccup followed, and he leaned over the rail once more.

  Sophie turned away to hide her smile. “Come on, Hap. Let’s go see Jewel,” she said. They fetched a pair of fish from the galley and went down to the hold, at the bottom of the ship. The steps ended at the carpenter’s walk: the aisle that ran the length of the ship and was used to find and repair any leaks that sprang up during a journey.

  The vessel was alive with conducted noise and vibration. There were groaning beams and planks, dim steps and voices of sailors above, and the muffled rush of water washing past the hull. It occurred to Hap that they were standing below the waterline, inside a bubble of wood. Don’t think about that, he ordered himself.

  The carpenter’s walk divided the hold, where barrels of food, fresh water, rum, and beer were stacked high. Plenty of storage space remained, since this was a merchant ship, but this journey was not for commerce. Their primary cargo was a small chest filled with crystalline dragon eggs, and a cage with an infant dragon that was small but growing fast.

  “Hel
lo, Jewel,” Hap said, as he and Sophie sat beside the cage, next to where the thick main mast was rooted at the bottom of the ship.

  The dragon had been sleeping with her head resting on her scaled legs. She lifted her face and opened her sapphire eyes. The long mouth cracked wide, and she squeaked out a yawn. The copper-colored scales shimmered as she stretched her limbs. Her tiny wings fanned out, experimented with a single tentative flap, and folded tight against her back once more.

  “Jewel is such a perfect name,” Sophie said. “Did you or Umber give it to her?”

  “It was Sable’s idea,” Hap said. Sophie’s head dropped, and she seemed to shrink beside him. Hap frowned, wondering what the problem was this time. All he’d done was answer the question. “Here, Sophie, give Jewel the fish,” he said. “I think she likes you better, anyway.”

  That night Hap was summoned to the main deck, where he found a small group waiting: Balfour, Oates, Sophie, Captain Sandar, and Hameron. Hameron was partially recovered from his seasickness, but he still clung to a stay with a handkerchief pressed to his mouth.

  Balfour nodded at them. “Follow me, please. Umber should hear this discussion.” He led them to a cabin at the front of the ship, knocked twice, and opened the door.

  They crowded into the room, with Oates pushing Hameron ahead of him. Umber was slumped on a chair with his chin on his chest. His eyes rolled up to look at his visitors, and then down again as if the effort was too great to sustain. “Told you I wanted to be left alone,” he mumbled.

  “My apologies, Umber,” Balfour said. “But we need to figure out exactly how we’re going to return these eggs.”

  Umber just shrugged. Hameron gave him a sour look. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “Put off by your presence, perhaps,” Balfour said.

  Hameron sneered and turned to Oates. “What’s the matter with Umber, Oates?”

  “He falls into these moods, and we never know when he’ll come out,” Oates replied.