Air Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  But what could possibly be taking the old wizard so long? He’d said it would be a few weeks at most before he found a way to bring Marcus safely through the gray place between their worlds, the shadow realm. He’d said Marcus was fine. But what if he wasn’t? What if Master Therapass was lying to keep her from using her one power? Once, Bonesplinter had nearly gotten Marcus by turning into a huge, black snake. If Kyja hadn’t discovered her ability to pull Marcus to Farworld at just that moment—

  Riph Raph waited on the windowsill as Kyja reached the level near Master Therapass’s study. Bits of brown mud clumped on the skyte’s beak. He must have stopped by the Two Prongs River before flying up to meet her.

  Kyja skidded to a stop, panting. “Is there any water at all?”

  “Nothing. What I wouldn’t give for a long drink and a succulent fish.” The skyte flapped his ears. “You’re in an awfully big hurry to tell the wizard that you haven’t learned anything.”

  “I was . . .” She couldn’t think of any reason to explain her running and had to satisfy herself with waving a hand at him. “Just be quiet.”

  Ignoring the skyte, she waited long enough to catch her breath before entering the wizard’s study. As she did, she was struck again by the clutter. Powders and potions were spread across the room—on tables and shelves, in boxes and bottles. Scrolls, some open, some rolled tight, covered every surface. Trinkets, charms, skulls, wings, talons, cloaks, crystals, and cabinets were scattered like a child’s toys.

  The room had been cluttered enough when she first started coming to practice magic. But when the Master had been thrown in prison by the zentan, leader of the Keepers, many of the other wizards had decided that his belongings were theirs to take. Now, bit by bit, he was gathering his things back—and putting them any old place. Surprisingly, nothing appeared to have been broken by the quakes. She guessed it was because of some sort of magic.

  What drew her attention most was what appeared to be an ordinary stained-glass window high on the wall—the aptura discerna, a window that looked inward instead of outward. In Kyja’s case, it allowed her to see Marcus’s world. It was one of the only magical items that worked for Kyja because, as the wizard explained it, the aptura discerna didn’t try to change people or affect them in any way. It was merely a window into what they cared about most.

  If she could just get a little peek . . .

  “I’d let you use it if I thought it would help.”

  Kyja turned toward the voice and smiled at the sight of a large gray wolf with a pair of silver spectacles balanced on its nose, leaning over a scroll. The wolf waved its paw and changed into an old man in a long blue robe. He took the glasses off and polished them on his sleeve. “Wolves’ eyes are sharper than a man’s. But even wolves get old.”

  Kyja glanced at Riph Raph, who was perched high on a shelf. The skyte was never completely comfortable here, although Kyja wasn’t sure whether it was the wolf or the magic that bothered him more. She turned back to the wizard. “I, um, just came to tell you that I’ve been studying some old maps.”

  The wizard put his glasses back on. “And?”

  “I didn’t find anything about the location of Air Keep,” Kyja admitted. “I might as well be looking for a three-headed dragon.”

  “Now that I could help you with,” Master Therapass said. “Unfortunately, I’m not surprised with your lack of success. Of all the elementals, air is possibly the most elusive. Other than the fact that they control the skies and are said to have a rather unique sense of humor, precious little is known about them.”

  “Then how are we supposed to get their help?” Kyja grabbed a cane-backed chair and held on before sitting. Items in Master Therapass’s study tended to move about without warning, and Kyja had gone to sit on a chair more than once, only to have it run across the room, dumping her rudely on the ground.

  The wizard tugged at the tip of his long beard. “Perhaps when Marcus gets here, we will figure that out.”

  Kyja gave Riph Raph a see-I-didn’t-bring-it-up look and casually said, “Speaking of Marcus, have you made any progress?”

  “Magic is not a science of progress as much as it is one of discovery,” the wizard said. It was just like him to answer without giving any information.

  “What have you discovered then?” Kyja asked, knowing she sounded cranky.

  The wizard glanced at a murky gray liquid bubbling in a glass tube and chuckled. “I have discovered many things. But no protection from the realm of shadows just yet.”

  Kyja gave an exasperated huff. “Then there’s no point in waiting any longer. Let me bring him here.”

  “On the contrary—we have all the more reason to wait. When one discovers that one drawer is locked, the logical answer is to try opening another drawer. Or one could look for a key. A key could very well unlock both drawers, assuming the second was locked as well. Of course, it might have a different lock entirely. In which case, one might need two keys.”

  “Who cares about keys?” Kyja shouted. “Can’t you at least let me check to make sure he’s all right?”

  Master Therapass studied Kyja. “You seem out of sorts. When did you last have something to eat?” The next thing Kyja knew, the wizard was shuffling her out of his study. “I’ll tell you as soon as I’ve discovered anything, child. Trust me; the boy is fine. Now go down and have some of Bella’s cornbread and gravy. Oh, and the bacon is especially good today. You could bring me back a slice or two if you are so inclined.”

  “There is no cornbread or gravy. Bella doesn’t have enough water to make it. And I don’t want any bacon,” Kyja muttered under her breath as she walked down the hall. She couldn’t believe the wizard was worried about filling his belly when he should be trying to find a way to bring Marcus to Farworld safely.

  When Kyja started up the staircase again, Riph Raph said, “I thought we were heading to the kitchen.”

  “I’m going to my room,” she snapped.

  “What about the bacon?”

  “Get it yourself. Food is all any of you seems to think about anyway.” She stomped up the stairs until she reached a small wooden door that led to an even smaller room. Since the Goodnuffs’ farm had been destroyed, this was her new home. It was stiflingly hot in the summer and drafty in the winter—and barely big enough to hold a bed, a chair, and a dresser. The only thing good about it was the tiny balcony that overlooked nearly all of Terra ne Staric.

  But Kyja didn’t care about the view now. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about the fact that as far as she could tell, she was the only person in the entire city who cared about Marcus.

  As she dropped onto the bed, something crinkled under her back. Curious, she sat up and pulled out a piece of parchment that must have been lying on her blanket. Where had it come from? It hadn’t been here when she left. Four lines were written in a small, neat handwriting.

  There was no signature of any kind. She turned the parchment over. Nothing on the back either. Who was it from? What did it mean? It seemed to be a riddle. For the moment, at least, her thoughts were pulled away from worrying about Marcus as she focused on the riddle.

  What disappeared at night? The sun. It was there in the morning and afternoon. And depending on which way you walked, it could appear to follow you or go away. But it definitely didn’t disappear at the brightest part of the day.

  What else came in the morning and afternoon? Hunger, if you asked Riph Raph. But hunger couldn’t follow you or run away. A person could follow you or run away. But what kind of person disappeared in the middle of the day and at night?

  Trying to work out the puzzle, she looked at the floor, where sunlight shined through the balcony. There was the answer, on the floor in front of her. Something that ran if you chased it and followed you wherever you went. It disappeared at night when the sun was gone and also when the sun was directly overhead.

  A shadow.

  Chapter 2

  A Change of Plans

  Marcu
s slammed his book to the patio stones in frustration. It made a bang that sounded thunderous in the quiet of the Arizona morning. A monk, startled from his work digging in a nearby flower garden, looked up quickly.

  “Sorry,” Marcus said, feeling his face growing hot. “Where is that scroll?” he whispered to himself, reshuffling the small stack of books and papers in his lap. He’d been looking at it just a few minutes before, and now he couldn’t find it anywhere. It wasn’t like he could have misplaced it. He was sitting in his wheelchair in the middle of an open stone courtyard. And because he was in a monastery surrounded by monks, the odds of someone taking it were fairly slim.

  But that didn’t change the fact that the scroll was gone.

  This seemed to be the way everything had gone over the past few weeks. His land and water spells, ones he’d been getting really good at, were suddenly either so weak as to be useless, or not working at all. His body felt like a wet washcloth someone had begun wringing every night. He’d gone months without a word from Kyja or Master Therapass. And now, every day seemed to have at least one instance of him losing or misplacing something.

  The only good news at all was that things couldn’t get any worse.

  “You dropped this?” Father Shaun picked up the book and handed it to Marcus with an uneasy frown.

  “Um, thanks,” Marcus said, taking the volume and turning it over so the cover faced down. He hadn’t heard the monk’s approach and wasn’t thrilled to see him there. Most of the fathers either seemed to enjoy Marcus’s company or at least tolerated his presence in their monastery. Of all of them, only Father Shaun appeared actively uncomfortable with their long-term guest.

  Although the monk had never said so, Marcus suspected Father Shaun’s discomfort was due to the books and papers Master Therapass had sent with him to study. Marcus tried not to do magic in the presence of anyone at the monastery, but more than once he’d been in the middle of an incantation when a father showed up unexpectedly. With Father Shaun’s habit of routinely arriving with catlike stealth, he was often the one who witnessed the spells.

  “How are your studies progressing?” the monk asked.

  “Good.” Marcus patted his stack of papers. “Just working on my, uh . . . algebra. Then some U.S. history. Gotta love the Industrial Revolution.”

  Father Shaun tugged at the sleeve of his raso, the long, black garment worn by all of the monks there. “I have some news that should make your studies go even better.”

  Marcus waited silently, seriously doubting that whatever news Father Shaun had would be good.

  When Father Shaun realized Marcus wasn’t going to say anything, he coughed into his fist and said, “We’ve received notification from the state. They have requested that we return you to the custody of Principal Teagarden at the Philo T. Justice School for Boys.”

  “Terrible Teagarden?” Marcus’s throat tightened. Had he just been thinking things couldn’t get any worse? “You can’t do that. Elder Benson said I was welcome to stay at the monastery as long as I wanted.”

  If the monk was disturbed by the outburst, he didn’t show it. Instead he smiled sadly. “We will miss you. But we have no choice. The state says this is not the proper place for a young boy. The monastery is not an orphanage.”

  Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Master Therapass had told him he could stay with the monks. He’d said the monastery was a place of safety, protected somehow from the reach of the Dark Circle. Then again, Master Therapass had also said it would only be a few weeks before Marcus could return to Farworld, and look how that had worked out—six months without a word of what was going on. “How did they even find out I was here?”

  The monk looked quickly away before raising his hands. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to that.”

  It wasn’t like Marcus had been able to talk to anyone outside the monastery. No phone. No Internet. Not even a TV. He’d been completely out of touch. Every day for the first few weeks, he’d waited for a message. Better yet, for the disorienting tug in the pit of his stomach that meant Kyja was starting to pull him to Farworld. But the tug never came. He was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

  What if Kyja and Master Therapass had decided to find the other elementals without him? He couldn’t imagine Kyja going along with something like that. But he couldn’t have imagined her leaving him here so long either. Maybe she’d forgotten about him completely.

  Or . . . what if something had happened to Kyja? The thought made Marcus sick to his stomach. He slammed his fist on his lap and immediately regretted it when a bolt of pain lanced through his bad leg. “If Elder Ephraim were alive, he would never allow this. I won’t go.”

  Elder Ephraim, founder of the monastery, was the one who had found Marcus as a baby. The one who had raised him and stayed in contact with Marcus until the old man’s death.

  Father Shaun straightened his raso again. “You’ll need to hurry and get your things packed,” he said in the same calm voice. “A van will be here soon to pick you up. The school would like you to be ready to go with them when they arrive.”

  The heavy book Marcus had thrown earlier slipped out of his withered left hand and dropped to the stones again, flipping open to a complex diagram showing how to combine the flows of air and land magic. Marcus barely noticed it. “They’re coming today?”

  Father Shaun glanced briefly at the pages of the book before averting his eyes. Is that why this was happening? Had the monk contacted the state because of Marcus’s magic?

  “Principal Teagarden said to expect him and a few of the boys from your school by lunchtime,” the monk said.

  Lunchtime! That was only a few hours away. “Please,” Marcus begged. “You can’t do this. Tell them to wait. Just a day or two.” He wanted to tell the father how dangerous it was for him outside the monastery, about the Dark Circle waiting for him. But if the monk had a problem with Marcus studying magic, he could just imagine how Father Shaun would respond to the idea of dark wizards who could change into huge black snakes anytime they wanted.

  “I’m sorry,” Father Shaun said. “We really don’t have any choice.”

  As Marcus watched the monk turn and walk away, drops of sweat trickled down his back—ice cold despite the harsh Arizona heat. He could deal with Principal Teagarden. Even the boys’ school held no fear for him now that he’d discovered his magic. The Dark Circle was another matter, though. With six months to plan, there was no doubt in his mind that they were just waiting for him to get back within their reach.

  He had to get out of here—now. But how? And where would he go? Kyja had all of their money. And even if he had money, what could he do with it? The monastery was located on a few acres along the edge of the Sonoran Desert. Miles of sandy emptiness stood between him and the nearest city.

  He could wheel himself out to the road. And then what, head into the desert? Try to hitch a ride on a remote road that might see two or three cars pass by in a day, if that? Even if he did get a ride, with no money, no food, and no place to stay, the Dark Circle would have no problem catching up with him.

  He spun his wheelchair around and headed back to his room, passing a group of monks walking sedately into the chapel. A few of them glanced in his direction. Did they know he was being thrown out? That it was putting his life in danger? If so, none of them did anything about it. No more than Kyja was doing, or Master Therapass.

  Fine. He was on his own then. He’d been on his own most of his life anyway, before there was Kyja, and Therapass, and all of the other people he’d met over the last year. He’d managed to survive before. He’d have to do it again now.

  He raced down the hallway leading to his room, rubber wheels whirring against the polished floor.

  It wouldn’t take him long to gather his things. He didn’t have much in the way of possessions, and his room was so barren it looked more like a jail cell. He tucked his staff into a Velcro strap on the back of his chair, hung his leather pack on a handle, and be
gan gathering Master Therapass’s scrolls and books, along with his clothes and personal items.

  At least there was one thing he had going for him: the motorcycle he and Kyja had driven across the country was still here. He didn’t know how much gas it had in the tank, and managing to start it and drive it the few miles to the monastery after his last jump from Farworld had been an ordeal to say the least. But it was his only chance. He couldn’t stay here and wait to be taken away.

  Marcus turned to put his things into his backpack, but it was gone. He looked under his chair, assuming it must have slipped off the handle. It wasn’t there. He looked on his bed, thinking he might have put it there. But he distinctly remembered hanging it on the back of his wheelchair.

  He wheeled his chair in a circle, already knowing what he would find. As impossible as it seemed, his backpack was gone. He looked at the door. Could Father Shaun have slipped in and silently taken the pack to keep Marcus from leaving?

  Marcus wheeled himself to the door and whipped it open, ready to confront the monk. But there was no one in the entire fifty-foot length of the hall. But something was lying on the floor at the far end. Marcus wheeled down the corridor to the intersection of the guest quarters and the wing of the monastery with the monks’ rooms. There, lying neatly on the stone floor, was his pack.

  He glanced down the hallway leading into the monks’ quarters and craned his neck to check the way he’d just come. Was this a trick? A joke? If so, who was playing it, and why?

  With his pack on his lap, he returned to his room. Whatever kind of trick the monk was playing on him, Marcus would not let it throw off his plans. As soon as he packed his things, he would locate the motorcycle keys, check for gas, and . . .

  When Marcus opened the door to his room, all of his books and papers were gone. His mouth dropped open. This was impossible. No way could anyone have come into his room without him seeing. He stretched to look under his bed, but the floor was as bare as the rest of the room.