Fire Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  “I told you,” Marcus said to Kyja. “He’s a full-on lunatic.”

  “Crazy as a fuzz worm in a pond full of biter fish,” Riph Raph said.

  Kyja looked crestfallen. “So we can’t go on? We can’t open the gate to free the fire elementals?”

  Mr. Z tilted his hat forward nearly to his nose and scratched the back of his head. “Why would you think that? You’ve learned the importance of balancing emotion with logic, wisdom, and instinct. What more would you need to know?” He pointed a finger behind them. “You may open the last door any time you wish.”

  Marcus and Kyja turned to see a black door with a flaming symbol on it—a curlicue loop with what looked a little like a claw at the end—the magic symbol for fire.

  “That’s it?” Kyja asked. “All we have to do is open it?”

  “That’s all,” Mr. Z agreed.

  Marcus wasn’t buying it. He’d seen this kind of flimflam from Mr. Z before. There was always a hidden meaning to whatever he said. “What about the quest—or test or experience, whatever you want to call it? Don’t we have to learn something before we can open the last door?”

  Mr. Z pressed a finger to his chin. “If you choose to go through that door, you will have learned everything you need to know.”

  He knew there was a catch. “You said if we choose to open the door. Why wouldn’t we?”

  “That brings me back to the thing I have to tell you that I’d rather not tell you. But if I don’t and you do what you do, then you might come to the conclusion that I intentionally—”

  “Say it!” Marcus shouted. “Why wouldn’t we want to open the door?”

  Mr. Z took off his top hat and placed it over his heart. “If you open the door, freeing the Pyrinths, I’m afraid you will be unable to return Kyja to her body.”

  Kyja thought she’d misheard. “It’s too late for me to go back? I’m dead?”

  Mr. Z pulled his hat back on his head and tugged it into place. “Stringently speaking—that is, in the most factual format—you are dead. Poison will do that to you.”

  “But . . .” She patted her arms and legs. “If I’m dead, why can I be seen and touched and heard?”

  “Consider it a glitch in the system, if you will.” Mr. Z waggled his fingers. “A situation unique to Fire Keep. Those who have the dubious privilege of ending up there are given a sort of temporary physicality. As long as you remain here, you have a body—although not one of flesh and bones.”

  “She’s not staying here,” Marcus said. “Master Therapass magically preserved her body so she could return to it.”

  “A fantastic bit of magicating for a mortal. Should you return her to her body using your little rope trick, she will be fit as a French horn. Although perhaps a bit peckish. Long time with no food will do that, you know.”

  Kyja didn’t understand. “I thought you said it was too late for me to go back to my body.”

  “Not precisely.” Mr. Z blew his nose again. “If you go now, or in the close proximity to now—say in the time it would take to skim one of my books—Marcus can return you to your body. Not snail surgery by any stretch of the imagination, but an impressive feat nonetheless. However, should you choose to open the last door, I’m afraid that returning you to your body will be beyond the ability of even a master wizard.”

  “Then we won’t open it,” Marcus said. He grabbed Kyja’s hand. “Come on. Push me to Terra ne Staric now, while we can still get you back.”

  And make all of this for nothing? Kyja unconsciously chewed on a strand of her hair. “If we did open the door, what would happen to me?”

  Mr. Z wobbled the stack of books again. “Nothing. You would remain as you are—in Fire Keep, in a sort of limbo. If you should leave . . .” He waved his hands. “You would lose your corporeal nature and move on to wherever mortal beings go when they leave their bodies.”

  “Why are you asking that?” Marcus demanded, grabbing her arm. “Kyja, you have to come back. We can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”

  Kyja didn’t want to lose him either, but she had to know everything before she could make a decision. “If I return to my body now, will Fire Keep ever be opened?”

  Marcus stared at her, and she tried to avoid the hurt in his eyes.

  “Not likely,” Mr. Z said.

  “And without the fire elementals, Earth and Farworld . . . ?”

  The little man with the big nose and floppy hat tugged at the front of his vest. “Think of Earth, Farworld, and the realm of shadows as three kegs of explosives attached to one burning fuse. The fuse is . . .” He held his thumb and forefinger so close there was barely any space between them. “At this point, an explosion is inevitable. What that explosion will be, and who it will affect and how—I’m afraid all of that is now up to you and you alone.”

  Kyja slid her hand from Marcus’s grip.

  “Forget it,” Marcus said. “The door can’t be opened without magic, and I won’t open it for you. I know you want to help people. But I’m sorry, I will not let you sacrifice yourself.”

  Kyja whirled on him. “I don’t have any choice.”

  Marcus stepped toward her until they were bare inches apart, his face twisted. “I . . .” He swallowed. “I’m the one who killed you.”

  She stared at him. Was he joking? No, she could tell that he wasn’t. Was this some kind of trick then, to stop her from freeing the fire elementals? She might not remember their past, but she knew him well enough to know he could never do what he was claiming.

  His chin trembled. “There isn’t enough time to explain it all, but I’m the one who gave you the poison that sent you here. I’ve never forgiven myself for that, and I never will if you don’t come back. If you won’t return for yourself, do it for me so I don’t have to have this guilt eating me up for the rest of my life.”

  He was telling the truth. She didn’t understand why or how, but she realized that it didn’t matter. She’d been so terrified to discover how she’d died, but now that she knew, it didn’t hurt at all. She’d been so foolish to believe that living without her memories could ever be good. The woman in the mist was right. You did learn from your pain.

  She would never want to make Marcus hurt any worse than he did. But she couldn’t choose to spare him pain at the cost of the lives of millions of innocent men, women, and children any more than she could choose to save her own life instead of theirs.

  How could she face herself for a single day if she allowed the Dark Circle, or the realm of shadows, or anyone to hurt innocent babies like the one she and Marcus had found in the alley? If she had any way to stop it, she couldn’t turn her back on them. She wouldn’t.

  “No,” she cried, tears streaming from her eyes. “I forgive you for whatever you’ve done, and if I could save you from another second of guilt, I would. But I’m not going back to my body if it means abandoning the people who need me. I. Will. Open. Fire. Keep!”

  She slammed her fist against the door, and fire leapt from the symbol down her arm. Flames enveloped her whole body.

  “The last lesson,” Mr. Z said. “Sometimes logic, wisdom, and instinct are overruled by emotion.”

  Fire Keep burst open.

  33: Not Enough Magic

  “Kyja!” Marcus reached out for her, but she was gone. He spun around. The room with the books was gone, too. “Mr. Z!” he screamed.

  What had happened? Where was he?

  Riph Raph flew to his side. “I’m, I’m s-sor-sor—” The skyte couldn’t finish its sentence. Tears dripped down his blue-scaled face.

  Marcus knew this room. The fireplace, the shelves of bottles and potions. He was back in Master Therapass’s study. How did he get here? And why wasn’t Kyja with him? The last thing he’d seen was her reaching for the door, and—

  Realization of what must have happened hit him like an anvil to the back of the head. She shouldn’t have been able to open the door without magic. But somehow, she had. She’d opened the door, and with it, she’d
opened Fire Keep.

  He crumpled to the ground. “No!” he screamed. “No. No. No.”

  Master Therapass stepped into the room. His eyes went wide. “You’re back. Does that mean—”

  Marcus pushed himself to his feet and raced past the wizard without a word. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he ran faster than he ever had to the stairs, then down them. Slipping, stumbling, scraping skin off his arms and legs as he fell and got back to his feet. Behind him he heard Master Therapass calling his name. But he didn’t have time to answer. He reached the bottom of the stairs, and Riph Raph flew beside him.

  “Stop,” the skyte said, trying to land on his shoulder. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

  “I have to get to her,” Marcus panted. “I have to save her.” He shoved Riph Raph away then ran out of the tower and down the hill. Skipping the winding path, he tripped and rolled most of the way down the grassy slope. It was a miracle he didn’t break an arm or a leg. But he didn’t care. Ramming his staff into the ground with a burning fury, he raced through the western gate.

  There it was—the glass glittering in the afternoon sun. “I’m coming,” he cried as he stumbled to the coffin. “I’m coming.”

  She was there, lying on the white satin pillow exactly the way he’d remembered. The wizard’s magic had kept her body safe and protected from the Dark Circle. Now he needed to bring her back. Pressing his forehead against the glass lid, he grasped the coffin’s gold handles and reached for her with his mind.

  “The rope,” he moaned, focusing all of his energy on finding her. “Send me the rope, and I’ll pull you over.”

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again. He’d found her while he was in the realm of shadows; he could do it from here, too. All he needed was enough desire. “I won’t leave you,” he said, tears running down his cheeks and onto the glass.

  If she couldn’t come to him, he’d find her. Calling on every ounce of magic he could pull into his body, he drew in water, land, air, and fire. Combined, there had to be a way to bring her back. Mr. Z’s words echoed in his head.

  You will be unable to return Kyja to her body. But he didn’t believe it. There had to be a way. He couldn’t go on without her. No one and nothing would take her away from him.

  Pounding his hand against the glass, he screamed at the elementals. “Give her to me! Bring her back! I don’t care what it takes. Please. Please. Please. Please.”

  Arms closed around him, and Master Therapass lifted him up. Cascade was there, along with Lanctrus-Darnoc, Divum, and most of the town.

  “It’s all right,” the wizard said, cradling Marcus against his beard.

  “No,” Marcus sobbed. “It’s not. You have to bring her back, Master Therapass. You have to. My magic’s not strong enough. But yours . . .”

  The wizard shook his head, his old eyes wet. “I’m sorry. If I could do anything, I would.”

  Marcus turned to the elementals. “Please. I’ll do anything you ask. Take my life. Only save her.”

  Cascade stared at the ground.

  “We’re sorry,” Lanctrus-Darnoc said.

  Divum placed a cool hand on his burning cheek. “If there were any way, I would do it for you.”

  Marcus stared at the townspeople surrounding him. Surely with all of their combined knowledge, all their magic, there had to be a way.

  High Lord Broomhead shook his head. “We can’t."

  Riph Raph landed on Marcus’s shoulder, and this time Marcus clutched the skyte to him, drenching Riph Raph with his tears. She was gone. She was really gone. And there was no one who could bring her back.

  There was a rustling in the crowd, and Marcus lifted his head to see men and women falling over each other to get out of the way as someone approached the coffin. Two curved horns appeared, and then a face that would send children crying to their mothers. The creature had bulging biceps and shoulders broader than Tankum’s. A flaming mace rested on one of them.

  It was the fire elemental he’d seen Kyja arguing with before she went into the vortex. The flaming creature approached the coffin and looked down at Kyja with a clear expression of tenderness. He slammed the head of his mace into the ground and everyone stepped back—even the other elementals.

  The Pyrinth turned to Marcus and said in a deep voice, “I can bring her back.”

  Kyja dropped her head. She knew she’d made the right decision. So why did she feel so terrible?

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  Mr. Z took off his gold spectacles, tucked them into his pocket, and pulled out a pair with thick, purple frames. “That was a brave decision you made.”

  Kyja sighed. “I only did it because I was mad. I didn’t use anything we learned in those tests or whatever they were.”

  “On the contrary, you used everything you learned.” He balanced the purple glasses on his nose, opened a book, and squinted at the pages. “Logic told you that the only way to complete your quest was to open the final door. Wisdom told you that the fate of many often outweighs the pain of one. Intuition told you to follow your heart, even if it might cause pain for one you love. And your emotions were what gave you the strength to do what you knew was right.”

  She squeezed her hands together. “I wish I could get my memories back. I think they would have made whatever comes next easier to bear.”

  Mr. Z shut the book and tucked the glasses in his pocket. “Once you’ve lived a thousand years, your eyes are never the same.” He put the book back on the stack. “Perhaps, as a reward for your sacrifice, I could share one memory with you.”

  He waved his hand, and Kyja saw herself and Marcus standing on an Earth street. It was nearly twilight, and they were standing beside a boy with beautiful brown skin and curly hair. He was holding a basketball.

  Kyja saw herself notice a women and a baby in a metal cart—what Marcus had called a car—but it had no wheels. The Kyja on the street gathered up their money and cloaks and gave them to the woman in the car.

  “She was about to give up,” Mr. Z said. “When you noticed her, she’d been considering leaving the baby in the back seat of the car and taking enough pills to stop her heart.”

  “No,” Kyja whispered.

  “She’d had a hard life,” Mr. Z said. “Her first child was stolen years before and never found. She searched for years without success. She was never quite right after that. Eventually she had another baby, hoping it would make things right. But her husband left soon after, and she found herself homeless and hopeless.”

  “She didn’t, did she?” Kyja asked. “Kill herself?”

  Mr. Z shook his head and smiled. “The money you gave her was enough for her to find temporary housing. But the hope you gave her was much more important. It helped her realize there were still good people in the world. In fact, you reminded her of someone. She didn’t realize it until later, but something about you reminded her of the child she’d lost all those years before—a little girl with lots of dark hair.”

  Kyja looked up. It took a moment to understand what he was saying. When she did, her mouth dropped open. “You mean . . .?”

  Mr. Z nodded. “The woman you saved that night was your mother.”

  Kyja took Mr. Z’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m ready to go now—to that place you talked about where mortals go when their bodies are gone.”

  Mr. Z blinked. He grinned. He began to chuckle, and the chuckle turned into all-out guffaws. He waved both hands and fell over backwards off the stack of books, which made him laugh all the harder.

  “What’s so funny?” Kyja asked.

  “You’ll go there one day,” the little man said, his feet sticking straight up in the air. “But that day is not for a long while. You have a perfectly fine body waiting for you to return to it.”

  She didn’t understand. “But you said . . . Marcus couldn’t . . .”

  “He can’t,” Mr. Z said. “He could have before you freed t
he Pyrinths, because that magic was available. But once the fire elementals got their magic back, they were the only ones with that power. In fact . . .” He pulled his watch out of his vest pocket. “I should think right about . . .”

  Kyja felt odd. The flames which had been circling her body since she opened the door, swirled around her and tightened like a cloak. The fire lifted her into the air as though giant, invisible hands were picking her up.

  “Good bye,” Mr. Z called. “And good luck with the drift.”

  The flames roared around her, and for a moment everything went black. Then she opened her eyes and found herself lying on her back, her head resting on a white silk pillow. Magma was looking down at her. She tried to sit up and banged her head on clear glass.

  “Kyja!” Marcus was there. He threw open the lid of what she realized was a glass coffin and hugged her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Riph Raph hopped onto the edge of the coffin and licked her face. Sitting up, she saw Cascade, Lanctrus-Darnoc, and Divum. Most of the town was there too. Char Everwood raised her youngest child above her head and the babe opened and closed a chubby hand. Bella the cook waved a large metal ladle. They were all looking at her and cheering.

  Bella, Char, Cascade—she realized she knew the names of everyone there. She had her memory back. All of it.

  She reached up weakly to Marcus, taking one side of his face in her left hand. He leaned toward her. She pulled him closer, until his lips were only inches from hers, and . . . whacked him on the head with her right hand. “I can’t believe you blamed yourself for my death.”

  34: Daring Plans

  Kyja couldn’t stop eating. She was trying to keep up with the conversation, but every time she quit putting food in her mouth, her stomach began growling again. She was seated in the great hall of the tower of Terra ne Staric with Marcus, Riph Raph, Master Therapass, the elementals, and the city council.