Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1)

by Catanese, P. W

  The leviathan broke the surface with the fishing boat cradled inside the railings of the barge. Water poured away, baring the deck. The father and son were there, rising on their hands and knees to gawk, dumbstruck, at the miracle from the deep that had saved them. Nima ran from Boroon’s back onto the deck. She opened the hatch and waved them over, and they crawled into the safety of the cabin.

  “Nima!” screamed Hap, rubbing the bruise atop his head. She couldn’t hear him, of course, but it didn’t matter. He shouted both names again, just for the joy it brought: “Nima! Boroon!”

  Hap’s conscious life was only a few weeks old, but he wondered if he would ever love a pair of beings more than he did the leviathan and the web-fingered captain at that moment. There’s a memory for the book of your life, he told himself as the rain mingled with his own happy tears.

  Boroon’s mighty tail propelled the rescued folk away, seeking shelter elsewhere. Hap stripped off his rain-dampened clothes and threw a nightshirt over his head. He plucked a book from the basket and sat on his bed, still smiling.

  Before he could start to read he felt the symptom he’d known before: the crippling stiffness that froze every joint in his body. He squeezed his eyes shut. In his mind he saw Turiana, and heard her saying those terrible words, and he forced his mind away from that memory. This will pass, he thought. And it did pass, faster than the first time, driven away by a sweltering fever that also quickly faded.

  He stood with his chest heaving like bellows, still wondering what caused the brief affliction, and annoyed that it interrupted his moment of joy. Umber had told him that, if the chill and fever came again, he should watch for another thread of light. And there it was, hanging in the stormy air just outside his window. Just like the one that led me to Thimble. But this thread hung vertically, and didn’t point to him.

  He approached it cautiously, as if it were a wary bird he might frighten away. Pay close attention, Umber had advised him. It might be important.

  Whatever it was, it was unaffected by the ferocious wind. The thread just rippled with a sinuous motion. Hap reached the window and stared at it. There was something ominous and frightening about its color—a bruised, infected purple. But like the first thread, it had tiny pulses of light moving through it, originating from some point below. He reached out and touched it, expecting to hear the same faint whispering or music. He yanked his hand back an instant later. There was a sound—but it was cold and unpleasant, and his nerves jangled.

  This thread is different, he thought. The first was mine. But this belongs to someone else.

  He pushed his head between the bars—there was just enough room to squeeze through, though it hurt his ears to try—and looked down. And there, climbing like a spider, reaching up to slide his daggerlike fingertips into a crevice in the walls, was Occo the Creep.

  Hap pulled his head back so fast that it felt like his ears had been sheared off by the bars. He stumbled and fell, and pushed away on his palms and heels until his back was against the door.

  He’s coming for me! His mind paralyzed him with too many jarring thoughts to process: Run! Hide! Fight! Don’t move! Scream! Be quiet! Call for help!

  The glimpse had told him that Occo was climbing swiftly. Soon hands would rise up and seize the bars. But then what? The bars made it impossible for Occo to enter. Was he strong enough to wrench them right out of the stone?

  He doesn’t know I saw him, Hap thought. All Hap saw was the top of his uncovered skull as he searched for a grip. His head was hairless and smooth, ghastly white, and slick with rain. And Hap had noticed something else in that momentary glimpse—something coiled around the Creep’s shoulder. Never mind that—do something! his instincts screamed.

  Next to the door was one of the countless artifacts that cluttered the Aerie. It was a small figure of a gnomelike creature, made of iron. It was there to prop the door open on windy days. But as Hap’s eyes fell upon it, he saw neither a statue nor a doorstop. He saw a weapon. He seized it by the neck. I’ll throw it as soon as he shows his face, Hap thought. He’ll lose his grip and fall.

  As he crept toward the window, padding softly with the heels of his feet off the ground, he pictured the craggy rocks at the foot of the Aerie. That will be the end of him. He stood close enough to strike but far enough to stay out of reach, held the statue over his shoulder, and waited. His legs shook and his heart knocked against his ribs.

  The thread of light had disappeared.

  Where is he? Hap inched closer. You should have gone for help right away, a voice inside told him. His muscles twitched, and he sensed the metallic taste of blood—he’d bitten the inside of his cheek without realizing it.

  Occo should be at the window by now. Hap wondered if the howling wind had pried Occo off the wall and sent him plummeting to his doom. He edged closer, and darted his head to the window and back. Nothing reached for him, so he stuck his head out for a better look. Occo was not on the wall above or below or lying dead on the rocks. A terrible possibility leaped into his mind.

  The terrace. Umber!

  He raced for his door, threw it open, and tore down the hall. “Oates! Oates!” he screamed, even before he slammed Oates’s door open with his shoulder.

  The big fellow lurched up in his bed. “Who? Huh! What?”

  Oates couldn’t see in the pitch-black of his room. Hap tugged his arm, shouting with his words blurring together: “Get up, get up! The Creep is back! Climbing the wall! Heading for the terrace—Lord Umber, Oates, Umber!”

  Oates erupted from the bed and reached blindly for a stack of weapons he kept leaning in the corner. His grasp fell on a long-handled battle-ax, and when he seized it up, the rest clattered to the floor. Hap saw a short, light spear that he could wield. He caught it as it fell and carried it with him.

  They ran into the wide corridor, which was lit by a lantern with a candle inside. Other doors flew open. Sophie raced out of her room with her bow and a quiver of arrows tucked under one arm. In her good hand she clutched the hooked instrument that had to be strapped in place before she could shoot. For the first time, Hap glimpsed the pale stump at the end of her damaged arm.

  Balfour hobbled out of his room, and a shrieking, wild-eyed Lady Truden burst out of hers. “What is it? What’s happening!” She and Balfour collided, and they fell to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs.

  Hap didn’t wait to help them up. He seized the lantern by its ring-shaped handle and led the way up the stairs, bounding five steps at a time on his powerful legs. He heard Oates thump after him.

  The wind nearly knocked Hap off his feet when he raced onto the terrace. The rain stung his cheek like needles. The first time he tried to shout, the wind choked him. He turned his head and cupped his hand, shouting, “Lord Umber! Look out! Occo is here!”

  Oates charged forward. His deep voice took up the cry: “Umber! Umber!”

  Sophie arrived beside Hap, dropped her bow and quiver, and fumbled to strap the instrument onto her bad arm. “Hap, do you see him?” she shouted.

  Hap’s head whipped right and left. Umber’s favorite bench was unoccupied. Above it, the branches of the tree whipped about like tentacles.

  “Where did you see the Creep?” Oates shouted. Hap pointed toward the wall that faced the bay. Oates ran to the spot with the battle-ax poised over one shoulder.

  Maybe we got here first, Hap thought, hoping with all his heart that it was true. A clatter reached his ear, and he looked toward Umber’s tower. The howling wind blew the door open and sucked it closed again. “His door is open!” Hap cried. He saw a crack of light between the closed shutters of the window above. He can’t hear us, Hap thought. He put down the lamp—the others needed it, not him, and he wanted both hands on the spear. Leaning into the wind so he wouldn’t fall, he bolted for the opening.

  Sophie shouted something after him, but the wind tore her words away. The door blew open again, as if to let Hap in, and when he raced inside it slammed shut once more. Hap whirled and
pointed his spear, fearing that Occo had closed the door and not the force of the storm. Nobody was there. “Lord Umber!” he cried again. There was no reply.

  Hap looked frantically around. Despite his alarm he was keenly aware that he’d never set foot in here before. His gaze flashed over the scene: Curved walls inside a round tower. A jar of glimmer-worms hanging from a crossbeam. A chair and footstool beside a fireplace with cold ashes. A dining table for one with an undisturbed meal and a crystal glass filled with wine. A small stove.

  No Occo. And no Umber.

  A staircase hugged the wall. Hap heard something clatter above. His voice cracked as he called again. “Lord Umber?” The spear shook in his hands.

  The door flew open and Sophie came in. Her bow and arrow were ready.

  “Upstairs!” cried Hap, bounding five steps at once.

  “Hap—you can’t go there!” Sophie shouted, but Hap was already at the top. Two rooms were there, with a landing between them. The smaller room, a quick glance showed Hap, was filled mainly by a large bed surrounded by gauzy curtains. “Lord Umber, are you here?” he cried. And then he heard the clatter again, in the other room.

  It’s the room I’m not supposed to see, Hap realized as he leaped inside. He heard the clatter a third time. It was only the wind hammering against the shuttered window. His eyes danced madly across the scene, searching for Umber or the enemy.

  There was a desk in the room, with stacks of parchment sorted into piles. And in the middle of the desk was the thing Hap knew he was never, ever supposed to see.

  CHAPTER

  27

  Hap recognized the object by the strange metal it was made from: smooth as the surface of a pond.

  He’d seen the other side when he leaped up to Umber’s window. That was the side that glowed with strange, flickering light. This side was different. Its entire surface was that polished metal. It was hinged at the bottom, and opened like a case. And there was a word, Hap realized, engraved in tall letters on the vertical surface that faced him. But it was not a word that meant anything to him:

  REBOOT

  A jolt ran through Hap as he realized that he’d just done the one thing that was expressly forbidden by Umber. Besides, Umber was still missing. Get out of here! Now!

  His feet were a blur as he raced for the stairs. As he rushed down, Sophie stared with her mouth tightened into a disbelieving circle. He jumped the last seven steps, desperate to put his trespass behind him. Before his feet touched the floor, Lady Truden rushed into the tower. Her head reared back, and she pointed a trembling finger. “Where were you?”

  “Nowhere—I thought he needed help!” Hap pleaded.

  “You came in here! And you went upstairs?” Lady Truden asked in a scream. She turned to Sophie. “Did he?”

  Sophie staggered back. She looked at Hap and her jaw trembled. “I … I …,” she sputtered.

  Lady Truden didn’t wait for an answer. “Get out, boy! We’ll deal with you later!”

  “I heard something,” Hap said in a rush. “I thought Lord Umber was—”

  “Out!” Lady Truden shrieked.

  Hap bit his lip and ran. The wind slapped his face as he left Umber’s tower. Balfour had arrived and was turning in every direction, shouting for Umber. Oates was coming back from the balcony.

  “Did you see anything?” Hap called to Oates. Oates shook his head.

  Where’s Umber? Where’s Occo? Hap’s mind was frantic. Something round and red, the size of a fist, rolled across the stone terrace, blown by the wind. It came so close that Hap could stop it with the side of his foot. It was an apple, with a single bite taken from it. The bite was fresh, Hap saw when he picked it up, because the flesh inside was still white. Umber was outside. He picked an apple off the tree. Hap looked toward the place where Umber liked to sit, under the tree. Balfour was there on one knee, reaching under the bench for something. He lifted the small thing and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Umber’s black ring, Hap realized. He clutched his stomach.

  “I think he took Umber!” Balfour said, choking on the last word.

  “But … how could he?” Hap called back. From his brief glimpse, he was sure it was no easy task for Occo to climb up the sheer wall in this storm. He felt sure Occo couldn’t have carried Umber down the way he came up. Unless … Something tugged at Hap’s thoughts. He remembered what was looped around the Creep’s shoulder. A rope? His gaze followed the balcony at the edge of the terrace. He saw nothing on the side where Occo had climbed up—but at another corner, he spied a dark cord tied around the rail. “Over there!”

  Oates arrived at the spot a moment after him. They stared down. The rope dangled to the foot of the Aerie, whipping in the wind far below. It led to a narrow rocky space on the shore.

  “We’re too late,” Hap said, in a voice too weak for anyone to hear.

  Oates stepped over the railing and gripped the rope. His eyes met Hap’s for a moment. “Umber is gone because of you,” he said. He slid over the edge and lowered himself swiftly, hand under hand.

  The words stung Hap like hornets. He slumped to the floor of the terrace and his spear clattered on the stone beside him. Oates always spoke the truth. He’s right, Hap thought. Umber was lost, and it was his fault.

  Balfour had built a fire in the hearth of the main hall, where the stone walls muted the storm’s ferocious howl. Hap sat on the floor with his chin on his knees. Sophie jabbed at the fire with a poker. Balfour slumped in a chair, and Lady Truden paced endlessly across the room.

  Heavy feet squished on the stairs, and Oates and Dodd came in, mournful and rain-soaked.

  “Anything?” Lady Truden said, clutching her throat. She groaned as Oates shook his head. “What about you and the others, Dodd? Did you see what happened?”

  “No, Lady Truden,” muttered Dodd, staring at the water dripping from his shirt.

  “Useless idiots!” Lady Truden snapped.

  Hap pushed himself to his feet. “I want to go look for him.”

  “No,” Balfour said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his little finger.

  “Why not?” Lady Truden shot back. She glared from Balfour to Hap. “If anyone should risk their neck to find Lord Umber, shouldn’t it be him?”

  “Yes,” Hap said. It felt strange to agree with her. “It should be me. Besides, I can see in the dark.”

  “That’s right! Now get out of here and find him,” Lady Truden said. Her long arm pointed.

  Balfour thumped his fists on the arms of his chair. “No! What’s the matter with you, Tru? You want to send this boy into the night with that demon on the loose! What if it gets him?”

  Lady Truden’s face trembled with fury. “What if it does? Lord Umber might be hurt. He may have minutes to live! We have to find him!”

  “Calm down, Tru. And sit, Happenstance,” Balfour said. There was a command to his voice that Hap hadn’t heard before. “Listen, all of you. There’s no point trying to find Umber now. Occo got away with him—by sea, for sure, on that strange horse of his. If Occo wanted to kill him, he’d have left him dead on the terrace. Besides, Umber was alert enough to take off the ring that opens the black door, and leave it for us to find. So Umber must be alive, correct?

  “Now, I don’t know what we should do next, but I know what we must not do: allow Hap to fall into the hands of that wicked creature. Hap is what Occo wants. If you ask me, he only took Umber because Hap is too hard to catch.”

  “You’re right,” said Lady Truden. Her eager gaze fixed upon Hap. “We need Happenstance! We’ll trade him for Umber …” Her hands rose as if she planned to seize him.

  “We’ll do no such thing,” Balfour said.

  Lady Truden bared her teeth at Balfour. “Why not?”

  “He’s just a boy, Tru,” Balfour said quietly.

  “A boy, you say! What sort of boy never sleeps? What boy has strange green eyes that see in the dark? What boy—”

  “Enough!” shouted Balfour. “There’s mor
e to it, Tru. Umber told me the boy is important, and that he must be kept safe at all costs.” Hap looked at Balfour, who stared back and nodded.

  “And you expect us to believe that?” cried Lady Truden.

  Balfour pushed against the arms of the chair and stood, straightening his usually bent form. “Are you suggesting that I’m not telling the truth?”

  “I’m suggesting that you’re more concerned about this child than the lord of this house!” Lady Truden said. “But now that you mention truth—Oates, did Lord Umber say the same thing to you, about the boy?”

  Oates furrowed his brow. “No. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “And isn’t it Lord Umber’s command that I rule the Aerie when he is not here?”

  “Yes, it is,” Oates grumbled.

  Lady Truden lifted her chin. “Well, Lord Umber is gone. And my first order is to keep a close watch on the boy. Dodd, you or one of your men, go to the shipping offices and tell the captains what has happened. Make sure Sandar knows. As soon as the storm abates, they must put to sea and begin a search.”

  Hap watched out a window as poor Dodd, wearing a long coat against the storm, trudged down the causeway on foot. Fortunately for Dodd, the causeway was elevated. Even the biggest waves couldn’t wash over the road and sweep him away.

  Hap was still watching an hour later when Dodd trudged back up to the Aerie. This time the wind was in his teeth, and Dodd had to lean into the gale to make any progress.

  When Dodd was halfway up the steep road, something came out of the raging water. A tall wave dashed against the side of the causeway, and when it withdrew, a dark creature with a gaunt rider remained. Occo and his horse! Hap thought. In seconds, the ridged tail at the rear of the horse divided at the end and transformed into powerful equine legs. The creature stood, shook off the water, and clattered across the stones after Dodd, bearing Occo on its back.

  Dodd drew his sword and paused, as if considering whether it would be wiser to stand his ground or run for the safety of the gatehouse. He chose flight.