Kate searched the sky, but there were no birds to be seen.
As she walked back along the path, she wondered again why she had chosen this place of all places. But there had been so little time to decide. Everything had happened so fast. She kept replaying the scene in her mind….
Sword in hand, she had been charging forward when Rafe had turned, and then the tip of the sword had been at his chest, her momentum carrying her relentlessly onward, the blade so sharp there’d been almost no resistance. He’d staggered back, collapsing against the tree. Instantly, all her anger had melted away. She’d screamed his name, the sword dropping to the ground, and rushed to his side, pressing her hands against the wound in his chest, sobbing—
And she’d seen a shimmering rise from his body and she saw and felt it pass into her, filling her up, warming her, and she knew it was her own spirit returning, that it was returning because Rafe was dying, and she’d watched two more shapes rise from his body and one drift toward Emma and another—Michael’s spirit, it had to be—rise up out of the Garden, vanishing into the darkness.
“Please,” she’d begged, “please don’t die.”
And then she’d seen another shimmering form, and there had been something about it, some emanating malice, that had made Kate shrink back in revulsion and fear, and then it too rose up and was gone.
And Kate had still been staring after it when she’d felt a hand touch her own.
“Kate…”
He’d sat up, getting slowly to his feet, and she’d risen as well, too stunned to speak, and they’d stood there, she looking at him, he at her, the rain drenching them, and she’d known, with every fiber of her being, that it was him, only him, and then he’d stepped forward and kissed her.
He’d said, “I’ve waited a hundred years for that kiss.”
“Rafe…how…”
“Your sister stripped away the spirits of each Dire Magnus that came before me. All save the first one. He wouldn’t let go. Till you stabbed me through the heart. I should’ve died, only the Chronicle wouldn’t let me. It had bonded with my spirit. But he couldn’t hold on. His spirit was pulled into the world of the dead. It’s over.”
Then he’d looked off, as if seeing beyond the confines of the Garden and Citadel. “Your parents are here. They’re in the harbor with Michael.”
“Are they okay?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?” For there was a strange expression on his face.
“Your parents discovered something and told your brother. I learned about it when I took on his spirit. I wouldn’t have known otherwise. Though it makes sense.”
“Tell me.”
“Not now.” His eyes were closed. “It’s amazing, the power of the magic, the sweep and depth of it. And it’s all in me. Even this”—he’d held up the small black book—“is just a book.” Then he’d lowered it, saying, “Your friends are near. I have to go.”
“But it’s over!”
“The others won’t trust me. They don’t…”
He hadn’t said it, but she’d known what he’d meant: they didn’t love him.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Yes. I’m coming with you.”
“Kate—”
She’d glanced at Emma on the ground, still unconscious. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. So’s your brother. He and the others will be here any moment.”
She’d stepped closer. “I believed in you when no one else did. You owe me this.”
He’d stared at her then as the rain sheeted down. Finally he’d nodded and taken her hand. “Think of somewhere safe.”
And the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.
—
Kate found Rafe sitting on a bench in front of the cabin, gazing out over the valley. He had on a set of well-worn clothes he’d found in the cabin, and as she approached, he rose, took the bucket from her, and placed it on the ground.
“It really is beautiful here. I’m glad you chose this place.”
Then he took her hand and drew her down beside him.
When Rafe had told her to think of somewhere safe, she’d known he’d meant somewhere they could hide, and the first place that had come to mind had been Gabriel’s cabin, outside of Cambridge Falls. Perhaps she’d thought of it because of Gabriel’s sword, lying in the clearing under the tree. But whatever the reason, the cabin turned out to be the perfect choice—alone on the mountainside, with no one nearby to disturb them. At least, she hoped that was the case. They’d found the cabin well-provisioned, making Kate suspect that it was now used by people from Gabriel’s village. So far, though, no one had stopped by.
They had arrived just after dawn, one moment standing in the darkness and storm in the Garden on Loris, the next here, the sun rising over the mountains, the air cool and still and heavy with mist. Then the release that had been building for days had finally come, and Kate had collapsed against him, sobbing. He’d half led, half carried her into the cabin, and they’d lain together on the bed where she’d slept with Michael and Emma years before, and he’d held her as she cried. Neither of them had spoken, content just to lie there, long after her tears had stopped.
It had been midday when they’d finally risen, impelled by hunger and thirst, and they’d found food in the cabin, and Kate had made her first trip to the stream. Alone, she had allowed herself to think about her brother and sister, about her parents, to wonder if they were okay—Rafe had promised they were—and to hope that they weren’t worrying about her, though she knew they must be.
Neither had yet mentioned the future, as if by not doing so, the future wouldn’t exist, and there would only ever be this present. They had spent the day wandering together in the woods, never straying far from the cabin. Kate had imagined they looked like any normal boy and girl, and there were moments, like now, sitting beside him, his hand solid and warm in hers, that she could almost convince herself that was true.
If only it hadn’t been for the birds.
She and Rafe had been returning to the cabin when they’d heard a great rushing that had grown louder and louder. They had climbed a large rock in a clearing and looked out over the trees to see a dark curtain being drawn across the sky. As the massive flock had come overhead, the sun had been blotted out, and all around them, birds had launched themselves out of the trees to join the migration.
It had taken more than an hour for the flock to pass, but even that had only been the beginning. All afternoon, they had watched animals—bears and deer and foxes and raccoons—moving through the forest in the same direction as the birds, as if heeding some silent alarm.
Kate knew what it meant, and knew Rafe knew, but neither spoke of it.
We’re together now, she told herself. That’s all that matters.
After the sun had set, the temperature dropped quickly, and she and Rafe rose from the bench and went inside. Rafe lit the fire, and together they made a stew out of the carrots and onions and salted meat they’d found in the cabin’s hutch, adding in sliced bits of ginger and sprigs of parsley from jars in the cupboard. While it cooked, Rafe asked her to tell the story of the first time she and Michael and Emma had come to Cambridge Falls, and she told about leaving Baltimore on the train, arriving at the house, finding the Atlas, being captured by the Countess, escaping, fleeing from the wolves, how Gabriel had saved them and brought them here through the rain….
She stopped and looked at him.
“You must already know all this.”
“I like hearing you tell it.”
They ate sitting on the hearth, shifting as the heat from the fire became too great. When she finished the story, she was silent for a moment, then looked at him, the shadows and light moving over his face.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What was it like?”
She didn’t explain what she meant, but he understood.
“It was like I was pus
hed down deep inside myself. Like I was watching the world through someone else’s eyes.”
“Like you were a puppet.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, partly, yes. But I was also the Dire Magnus. It’s important you know that. Those other voices in my head, they urged me to do things, pushed me, but they played on things that had always been there: anger, bitterness, hunger for power and revenge. All that was in me already.”
Kate looked down for a long moment, and when she lifted her gaze, her eyes glistened in the firelight. “But love too. That was in you.”
He nodded. “Yes. That too.”
He set his bowl on the hearth and leaned toward her. “I can’t stay much longer.”
She shook her head, not so much arguing as refusing to listen, as if by talking about what was coming, he had broken some compact between them.
He took her hand. “You know what the Books are doing. The fact that the magic is in me instead of in you and your brother and sister hasn’t changed what’s happening to the world. You saw the birds. The animals. They sense it too. Things are coming apart.”
“Hugo Algernon said that maybe there’s a way—”
“There isn’t. Remember I said that your parents had found out the end of the prophecy?”
Kate looked up; she couldn’t help herself.
“I told you in the Garden, I learned about it when I took on Michael’s spirit. The prophecy says that three will become one. Three Books in one; three Keepers in one. And it says the Final Keeper must die to heal the world. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?!” Kate said furiously. “The world’s going to end?! I don’t believe it! And I don’t care! It’s not fair! Not after everything!” She stood, flinging her bowl across the cabin. “I don’t care! I can’t—I can’t…”
But she couldn’t even finish her statement.
Kate let him hold her then, and time passed. All day, she’d tried not to think about the power of the Books being inside him, and how that included the power of the Reckoning. Did that mean all he had to do was wish himself dead, simply think it, and it would be so? She hated the idea of him having that power.
“Kate…”
She sat up, turning to face him. He was staring at her intently.
“Do you understand what Emma did in the world of the dead?”
“She…gave the dead back their memories.”
“But do you understand what that means? Now, when someone dies, they carry with them all the love they had in life. Forever. It’s a great, great thing.”
“Why’re you telling me this?”
“Because it’s important you know it. What happened to your locket?”
“The chain broke. But—”
“Show me.”
She paused just a second, then reached into her pocket and pulled out the locket and chain. Rafe pressed the broken links between his fingers, and when he opened them, the chain was whole again. He slipped it over her head, and she felt the familiar weight settle on her chest.
“Do something for me,” he said.
“Anything.”
“That locket, it always made you think of your mother, the promise you made?”
“Yes.”
“And you kept your promise. Your brother and sister are safe with your parents. So maybe now, when you wear it, you can think of me.”
Kate turned away. Tears ran down her cheeks and fell into her lap.
He took her hand. “Promise me.”
And she nodded and said, quietly, “Yes, I promise.” Then she gripped his hand with all her strength and looked at him, her vision blurry with tears. “Isn’t there anything I can do? There has to be something!”
“There is,” he said. “You can live.”
—
All day, there had not been a cloud in the sky, and so when the storm came, it came without warning. Rain beat against the side of the cabin, the windows and doors shuddered in the gale, the wind screamed down the chimney and scattered ashes across the room. It had seemed to Kate that this was the same storm that had been over Loris the night before, that the storm had somehow followed them here.
She’d resolved not to fall asleep; she would stay awake as long as she had to, she would not lose a single moment, and she wondered later if Rafe had done something to make her sleep, or if the days of struggle and strain had finally caught up to her. She had a vague memory of being carried to bed.
When she woke, the cabin was filled with sunlight, the storm had ended, and all was still and peaceful. She looked at Rafe beside her, then rose and walked outside, glancing on her way at the black leather book on the table.
She sat down on the bench. The morning was cool, and she closed her eyes and listened to the birds, all across the mountainside, calling the new day.
It had been his choice in the end; the power had been his, and he’d used it to save them all, to save her. She tried to keep that thought in mind.
But inside her was an emptiness she had never imagined possible.
She was not surprised when, a while later, she heard noises and looked to see Michael and Emma emerging from the trees. She stayed where she was, waiting till they got to the cabin and she could take them inside and show them where Rafe’s body lay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Goodbye, Farewell
Kate chose to bury Rafe close by the cabin, in sight of the bench where they had sat on that last day and watched the sun sink below the mountains.
And she stayed with him all night in Gabriel’s village while Granny Peet prepared his body for burial, cleaning his hands and face, combing his hair, whispering blessings. It had been Granny Peet, of course, who had sensed her and Rafe’s presence at the cabin and spread the word that had drawn the others. In the end, Kate was glad that she was not alone, and Emma, Michael, her mother and father, they all took turns sitting with her throughout the night. In the morning, with the help of Robbie McLaur and his dwarves, they carried Rafe back up the mountain to where the grave had already been dug. The only ones in attendance were Kate and her family, Granny Peet, Hugo Algernon, King Robbie and his dwarves, and Princess Wilamena, who was dressed almost demurely in black silk.
Once he was laid in his coffin, Kate placed the Reckoning on Rafe’s chest, beneath his folded hands. Then she stepped back as the lid was settled into place and the nails hammered home. With her mother and Emma beside her, she watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
They spent that night as well in Gabriel’s village, eating dinner in the tribe’s main building. Michael knew many of the men to nod to, having fought alongside them during the battle. They slept—though Kate did not sleep—in a cabin given over to their family, and though no one said anything directly, it felt strange to Kate, and she knew it must’ve been strange for Michael and Emma, to be spending the night under the same roof as two adults they scarcely knew, even if they were their mother and father. But her mother seemed to sense it, for as she kissed her good night, she whispered:
“I’m sorry about this. It will get better.”
“What will?” Kate asked.
“Everything.”
The next day, Hugo Algernon left, as did Wilamena, though she promised to return as soon as possible, and so there was only Kate, her family, Granny Peet, and King Robbie, who came dressed in his finest armor, and a few attendant dwarves when they climbed the mountain to bury Gabriel in the grave that had been dug alongside Rafe’s.
Gabriel’s body had been recovered from the village on the Arabian Peninsula, and Emma placed his sword, brought from the Garden on Loris, in the coffin beside him. After the coffin was lowered into the ground, Granny Peet asked Emma if there was anything she wanted to say.
“No,” Emma said, “I already told him.”
And King Robbie himself filled in the grave, and it was done.
Their parents and Granny Peet and the dwarf king all moved off, and Kate stood with her brother and sister beside the pair of fresh graves, and th
ough none of them spoke, Kate thought—and she imagined Michael and Emma thinking the same—of how both Gabriel and Rafe had died for them, and that was a thing impossible to repay.
That afternoon, after saying goodbye to Granny Peet and thanking her for everything, they followed Robbie McLaur over the mountains to the house in Cambridge Falls, the house where they had first found the Atlas, where they had met Dr. Pym. It was perhaps a strange place to return to, but none of them, neither the children nor their parents, were quite ready to reenter the real world.
Once in sight of the house, the dwarf king said his farewells, hugging each of the children and kissing them on both cheeks, assuring them they would always be welcome in his kingdom and inviting them to return as often as they liked and more often still. Then, shaking hands with their father and bowing to their mother, he walked off into the woods and was swallowed by the gathering dark.
Kate, Emma, Michael, and their parents walked on to the house, where they found Abraham, the old caretaker, and Miss Sallow, the cook, waiting for them on the front steps. After having been hugged and exclaimed over by Abraham and nodded curtly to by Miss Sallow, who had to rub her eyes with her apron because “the blasted stove’s so smoky,” though she was outside at the time and nowhere near the stove, the children and their parents were brought inside, where they found a hot and bountiful dinner already waiting.
It was the first time they had felt truly alone as a family, and as such, it was a vision of the future. Their parents talked nervously throughout the meal, as if trying to fill the silences, but in truth, the children hardly noticed the awkwardness. Being in the house and eating Miss Sallow’s food, they had realized how utterly, deeply, bone-crushingly tired they were. They found they could hardly chew, and soon they were being led upstairs, almost dropping with fatigue, to their old room, which Abraham had made up hours before.
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