They edged another step closer to the opening, and Nizgar-Gharat’s wings suddenly bent forward like an umbrella snapped inside out by a storm.
“That’s it!” Nizgar shouted. “We aren’t going any farther.”
The land elementals released Marcus’s arm. Tide did the same, and Calem flung Marcus toward the portal. His body floated for a moment, like the scene from the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy’s house gets lifted into the air, and then an immense force took hold of him.
Right before Marcus was pulled through, the bird dove toward him. He tried to wave it away, but both of them were spinning and falling—not down, but sideways.
“Ge omf mer,” a muffled voice said.
“Huh?” Marcus rubbed his eyes, and something moved under him. He jerked away, thinking it was a spider or something worse.
“Get off me,” a familiar voice said. Marcus moved his arm, and the bird that been fluttering around the cave hopped out from beneath him and fluffed its wings. “Do you have any idea how much you weigh?”
“Riph Raph?”
Other than the blue color, the bird looked nothing like the skyte, but the voice was unmistakable.
“No. I’m Master Therapass in disguise,” the bird snapped. “See the gray beard growing under my beak.”
Marcus would have recognized that sarcastic tone anywhere. It was Riph Raph. He thought he’d never see the skyte again. He wrapped the bird in a one-armed hug.
“Stop squeezing me,” Riph Raph chirped, “or I’ll peck your eyes out.”
“How did you get here?” Marcus laughed, releasing the skyte. “How did you know where to look for me?”
“I’ll tell you after you turn me back into myself,” Riph Raph said crankily. “I keep getting this insatiable urge to sing. Besides, I want my fireballs back. I don’t like the look of this place.”
Marcus looked around. He was lying near the curb of a large city street. Tall, dark buildings were outlined by a darker sky. A yellowed newspaper flapped in the gutter.
“Are we back on Earth?” How could that be? The Master had meant to send him into the realm of shadows. The only way he could be back on Earth was if . . .
“Definitely not Earth.” Riph Raph’s blue head bobbed to the right. “Unless Earth has those.”
Marcus turned to see a large bubble rising out of the middle of the street. The bubble pulsated in and out for a moment, then headed straight toward them like a sea monster swimming through the ocean. He’d definitely never seen anything like that on Earth.
“What is it?” Marcus asked, scooting away.
“No idea,” Riph Raph said, flying into the air. “I’m guessing it’s not coming to offer a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”
Marcus tried to stand before realizing he didn’t have his staff. He searched the street for it, but either the elementals hadn’t thrown it in after him, or it had landed somewhere else. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping that whatever was moving beneath the street had gone in another direction. But it was close and coming straight toward him. It was bigger now too, stretching the surface of the street like a whale coming up for air.
With trembling arms and legs, Marcus scooted down the street.
“Faster!” Riph Raph shouted from overhead. “It’s getting close.”
As though sensing its prey was near, the creature sped up, rising higher and higher.
“Try this,” Riph Raph said, swooping over something discarded in the street. Sliding himself forward with his good leg and arm, Marcus found a piece of metal that looked like it might once have been a fence post. It was rusted and bent, but it looked solid enough to hold his weight.
He propped it under one arm, and pushed himself to his feet. The creature was right behind him now. He could feel the asphalt thrumming beneath him. How could it push the street up like that without cracking it?
“Cast a spell,” Riph Raph called, swooping and diving. “I’d burn it to a cinder, but birds don’t have fireballs.”
Magic! He’d been blocked for so long that he’d almost forgotten he had it. Did magic work in the realm of shadows? Only one way to find out. Pointing his good hand toward the bubble, which now towered a good ten feet higher than his head, he called for the elements of fire and air to blast it with a bolt of electricity.
Welcome power flowed through his body, and a bright-blue light flashed from the sky, piercing the bubble like a needle through a balloon. Black gunk sprayed everywhere. A drop of it splashed on his skin and burned him before he could brush it off.
Riph Raph did a loop-the-loop in the air, tweeting triumphantly. “That’s right. Don’t mess with me and my boy. We’ll cook you like yesterday’s leftovers. We’ll batter you, fry you, and serve you up for dinner.”
“Riph Raph, we may want to get out of here,” Marcus said pointing down the street. He’d managed to zap the creature closest to him, but the noise or the magic must have woken more. Marcus counted two black bubbles, then three, four, five. Everywhere, black shapes rose, and all of them were headed in his direction.
He glanced around and spotted a narrow alleyway between two soot-stained buildings. “Over here,” he said, hobbling onto the sidewalk and toward the alley.
As he crossed the sidewalk, he kicked a shattered black-and-gray lump with wires sticking out of one end. He paused for a moment, eyes locked on the piece of junk. It had buttons and a tiny controller—the kind he and his friends had used thousands of times. He could almost swear that this was a broken video game controller—from an old PlayStation maybe, or an Xbox. But what was a game controller that had clearly come from Earth doing in the realm of shadows?
Riph Raph, who had been dive bombing the first bubble, telling it what they’d do to it the next time it dared to mess with them, spotted the rest of the bubbles closing in and squawked. “We’re leaving now. But don’t think it’s because we’re scared. We’ve proved our point, and, um . . . good bye.”
Marcus looked behind him, and his throat tightened. The entire street was filled with bubbles like waves on a black ocean. Ignoring the controller, he hurried into the alley. Other than trash and an occasional dirty brick, there was nothing—no place to hide. Cracked and broken windows looked down on them like empty eye sockets, all too high for him to reach. If the bubbles followed them into the alley, they’d be in trouble.
“Over here,” Riph Raph said, swooping toward an opening in the building. The bubbles weren’t following yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
Marcus reached the opening—a narrow doorway—and paused to catch his breath. “I’m not so sure about this.”
The door, no longer attached to its hinges, lay in shattered pieces a few feet inside the dark entrance. Odd graffiti covered the walls and floor around the opening.
The reaping comes.
Creepers creep.
You feed me.
No way out.
What did any of it mean? A foul smell came from the room—a combination of burned wood and something chemical. Marcus created a baseball-sized flame that hovered in the middle of the room. What it revealed was at least as bad as the smell. A dried puddle of something dark stained the center of the floor, the walls were covered with oozing mold, and a metal staircase leading upward was bent and covered with rust.
“Maybe we should look for something a little more . . . welcoming?” Riph Raph suggested.
“My thoughts exactly.” Marcus said. He turned to continue farther, when a shrill whistling sound cut through the air. He spun around, sure that the bubbles were coming. The tar-like creatures were still crowded around the entrance to the alley.
The sound came again—a high-pitched whistle. The kind of sound people made at sporting events or to get someone’s attention by sticking their fingers in the mouth and blowing. Why did the whistle sound so familiar, and why did it send icy fingers down the back of his neck?
“I’ve heard that sound before,” Riph Raph said.
“I know.” Marcus edged back
toward the door. “I can’t quite remember—”
A insect-like shape the size of a large dog hopped into the other end of the alley, and Marcus felt his legs grow weak. All at once, he remembered where he’d heard the sound before and why it terrified him.
“Snifflers,” he moaned.
19: Closing In
Wrinkling his nose at the stench, Marcus ducked through the doorway into the room, hoping the creature hadn’t seen him. He peeked out and looked from one end of the alley to the other. They were trapped between the bubble creatures collecting in the street and the sniffler hopping in his direction. He remembered all too well the way one of the snifflers had attached itself to him and sucked away his magic when he and Kyja had been searching for Land Keep. He couldn’t let that happen again.
He pointed to the roof of the building across from them. “Fly up there and wait for me.”
Riph Raph landed on Marcus’s shoulder and pecked his ear. “After what happened last time, you think I’ll let you go? I don’t think so.”
“What are you going to do against a sniffler? Sing it to death?”
Riph Raph puffed out his feathers. “Just because I don’t have my fire doesn’t mean I don’t know a dozen other ways to kill. I am a living weapon.”
Marcus didn’t have time to argue. “Fine. But if you end up getting baked in a pie or something, don’t blame me.” He tried to memorize the layout of the room before putting out his flame.
“As the room was plunged into darkness Riph Raph squawked, “Are you crazy? How are we supposed to get away if we can’t see where we’re going?”
Marcus tapped his metal pole in front of him, heading in the direction of the stairs. Outside, the whistling was getting louder. Was there more than one sniffler?
“They can sense magic,” he whispered. “I think that might have been what attracted whatever was under the streets. The less magic I use, the better chance we have of losing them.”
His pole clanged on the metal staircase at the same time his hip banged against the railing. Putting his weight on the pole, he raised his left foot onto the first step and dragged his bad leg behind him. The stairs gave an ominous groan under his weight. “I really think you should go on your own,” he said, trying the next step. “This whole thing could collapse beneath me at any time.”
Riph Raph’s talons tightened on Marcus’s shoulder. “All the more reason for me to stay. Who else will drag you out of the rubble?”
Marcus smiled at the thought of the tiny bird trying to lift him. With his good hand clutching the pole, Marcus had no way of holding the rail. Instead, he leaned against the wall, trying not to think about the wet green coating he’d seen earlier.
They’d barely reached the first landing when clicking sounds came from below. “It’s here,” he said, so softly he could barely hear his own voice. He felt the bird’s body shift in acknowledgment.
He tried to keep his footsteps silent as he turned and started up the next staircase, but his bad foot clanged against the riser, echoing in the darkness. Immediately, the sniffler’s high-pitched call filled the air. Worse, the whistle was followed by a wet smacking and a deep voice that said, “I smell magic.”
“Unmakers,” Marcus muttered through gritted teeth. He tried to push himself harder, but he was already gasping for breath, and his legs shook. Below them, the metal stairs clanged.
Ignoring the sweat pouring down his back, he focused on keeping his legs moving. Pain burned in his calves and thighs. Maybe the creatures would have a hard time climbing the steps.
The stairs clanged again—closer this time. So much for that hope. Reaching the second landing, he banged his pole to the side, hoping for a door, but the wall continued uninterrupted. As he started up the next set of steps, something thudded below, and the entire staircase shuddered.
“You can’t escape,” the Unmaker’s voice called.
Marcus’s strength was rapidly disappearing, and although he couldn’t see the creatures, the clanging was growing louder and louder, and the excited whistles were so close that he imagined he could reach out and feel the sniffler’s tentacles stretching toward him.
“Change me back to a skyte,” Riph Raph said.
“No time.” Marcus wiped his sweaty face on the sleeve of his robe and gasped for air.
“Change me.” Riph Raph gave Marcus’s shoulder an urgent peck. “They haven’t seen us yet. They only sense magic.”
Marcus felt a chill as he realized what they skyte was suggesting. “I won’t let you act as bait.”
“I’m going one way or the other,” Riph Raph chirped angrily. “Will you change me back so I at least have fire to protect myself?”
“I’ll try,” Marcus said. “But I might screw it up.” He wasn’t sure he knew how. He thought back to everything he’d learned from the elementals. Maybe a combination of land and air magic would work?
“Master Therapass told me you’d be able to do it,” Riph Raph said. “Just don’t turn me into a lizard, or I’ll never forgive you.”
Was Master Therapass the one who’d sent Riph Raph to find him? How did the wizard know where he’d be? And why send the skyte? Marcus was missing something—something big. But he didn’t have time to figure it out now.
Closing his eyes, he focused on remembering exactly what Riph Raph looked like as a skyte—how he moved and flew. The sniffler sounded like it was right on top of him, but he didn’t dare look.
Hoping he was doing it right, he touched Riph Raph and let magic flow through his hands. Instantly, the texture under his fingers changed from feathers to scales, and the weight on his shoulder increased.
The talons, now larger and sharper, released his shoulder, and he opened his eyes in time to see three blue fireballs burst down the stairs.
“See me and be afraid!” Riph Raph screamed, diving straight at the eyes of the sniffler. Blinded by the unexpected attack, the creature leaped backward on its insectile legs.
Something thudded against the wall, and the Unmaker cried out, “Get off me. Seek the magic.”
“You want magic?” Riph Raph shouted. “I’ll give you magic.”
Celebrating his return to skyte form, he spat out so many fireballs that it reminded Marcus of a fireworks show. Using the glow of the explosions to light his way, Riph Raph flew over the creatures and down the stairs.
“Hate to tell you, you spell-sucking simpletons, but magic has left the building!”
Marcus wanted to protect Riph Raph, but the best thing he could do for them both was to escape while the shadow creatures were distracted by the skyte’s exploits. He waited until he heard the sniffler charge back down the stairs, then began climbing again. Every step was torture, but he couldn’t afford to stay put if the creatures came back.
As he reached the third landing, he noticed a sliver of gray light. A metal door was propped a few inches open. He pushed his shoulder against it. With a low whine, the door swung outward. Flakes of rust and dirt showered onto his head, but he didn’t care. The important thing was finding somewhere to hide.
The hallway beyond the door was dimly lit, which might have been for the best. Some kind of creatures had been here, gnawing the wood and metal of the floors and walls into jagged shards. Their dried droppings were scattered around in little faintly glowing piles, which smelled like motor oil. He heard scurrying in front of him and behind. He suspected that if he created more light, he’d see things that made the spider in his Dark Circle prison cell look like a fuzzy bunny.
Halfway down the hall, he found another door, this one mostly intact. The room beyond it had a solid floor and walls that were only mostly covered with mold. Given the other options he’d seen so far, this might be the best he could hope for. He used a plank of wood from a corner to jam the door closed.
There was no need to open the room’s single window; it only had a few dirt-grimed spears of glass in one corner. Keeping far enough back that he hoped nothing outside could see in, he peeked out to
the alley below—no sign of the sniffler or Riph Raph. Which didn’t mean it was safe. An entire army of Unmakers could be down there, and he wouldn’t have any idea until they sucked away his magic.
He leaned a little more forward, when a dark shape hurtled through the window and plummeted straight into him. He was reaching for magic when the shape landed on the floor and glared at him.
“Are you trying to give yourself away?”
Marcus collapsed to the floor and grinned. “Riph Raph.”
“Don’t ‘Riph Raph’ me,” the skyte said, sniffing the walls with clear distaste. “Do you have any idea what’s out there?”
Marcus shook his head.
“No, you don’t. Because you can’t fly. But I can. You’re lucky to have me around.”
Marcus tapped the skyte gently on the head with his knuckles. “Are you going to tell me what’s out there? Or should I take a nap until you’re done bragging?”
“You want to know what’s out there, waiting to devour you like a boy burrito?”
Marcus waited.
“Kyja appreciated me,” the skyte said. He scratched behind one of his ears. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Five or six snifflers, and at least a couple of Unmakers—you can sort of see glimmers from them when the light is right—plus a couple of dozen soldiers in black leather uniforms.”
Marcus sat up straight. “What kind of soldiers?”
“The kind that carry weapons and run around looking like they want to hurt somebody. I led them a couple of blocks in the other direction before flying into a building and circling back out the other side. They should be searching in the wrong place for at least a little while.”
“Good thinking,” Marcus said, rubbing a hand between the skyte’s wings. The realm of shadows was nothing like he’d expected. In the past, all he’d seen of it was a gray mist. But these buildings looked almost like Earth skyscrapers. And then there was the controller, which he was almost sure had come from an Earth video-game console. “When you say weapons, are you talking about magical weapons or ordinary swords?”
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