Air Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  Kyja pinched her lower lip, thinking. The problem did seem overwhelming. What would she do if this were a game of Trill Stones? “The biggest advantage they have is the weather. If only we knew where Cascade is.”

  Suddenly an idea occurred to her. She turned to Graehl. “Do you remember exactly when you saw Master Therapass talking to Cascade and Lanctrus-Darnoc?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I was talking with the blacksmith when I saw the three of them gather by the stables. It seemed to be a rather serious conversation, so I headed over to listen. By the time I got there, they were finishing up. All I heard was the wizard telling them to be careful.”

  “But if you’d been there earlier, you might have overheard the whole conversation?”

  Graehl tapped his knife blade against the wood. “I suppose.”

  Kyja leaned over to Marcus. “Tell me more about the Abyss of Time,” she whispered. “How does it work?”

  Marcus gave her an odd look, almost like he was scared of her. “There are four doorways,” he whispered back. “The first is called the Is. That’s how we got here. The second one is called the Was. It takes you back in time.”

  “How far back?”

  “I think as far back as you want,” Marcus said.

  Kyja’s mind raced. “We could go into the past, return to where Master Therapass is speaking to Cascade and Lanctrus-Darnoc, and listen in to what he says?”

  Marcus started to nod, then shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work that way. You can only return to places you’ve actually been. If you try to go outside the area of your own memories, everything turns dark.”

  Kyja chewed on the tip of her thumb, thinking. There had to be some way. Finding out what Master Therapass had told the elementals might be vital to figuring out where they were now. And in turn, learning what the water and land elementals had to do with the Dark Circle.

  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Graehl asked. “I might be able to help.”

  “No,” Marcus said. “Go find someone else to spy on.”

  “Actually,” Kyja said. “Maybe you can.” She turned to Marcus. “What if we took someone with us? Could we visit places they’ve been?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus said. “I’ve only . . .” He looked from Kyja to Graehl, and shook his head. “We’re not taking him with us. I totally don’t trust him. We don’t even know if his story is true. For all we know, he could be lying about the whole thing.”

  “Why would he lie?”

  Marcus shifted his leg and grimaced. “Who knows why he does anything? Besides, he didn’t hear the conversation back then. So we probably won’t be able to hear it in his memory.”

  “There’s one way to find out,” Kyja said. She turned toward the door and called, “Mr. Z! Mr. Z, where are you?”

  At her call, Mr. Z appeared. His legs were bent, as though he’d been sitting on a chair, and in his hands he held a group of cards. With nothing to support him, he fell over backwards, spraying cards everywhere.

  “Who’s this?” Graehl asked, clearly shocked by the little man’s sudden appearance.

  “No one,” Marcus said. He shook his head at Kyja. “I don’t think we should do this.”

  “Give a body a little more notice,” Mr. Z piped, dusting himself off and grabbing his cards. “I had the seven of giblets, the four of tarts, and the queen of abnormality.”

  “There’s no time for games,” Kyja said. “We want to go back to the Was. Right away. All four of us.”

  “Four?” Mr. Z shoved his cards into his coat. “That is highly irregular. Extremely unusual. I’m not sure I’m allowed—”

  Graehl had reached for his sword, but now he seemed more curious than concerned. “What is this was? And why are we going there? Does the wizard know about this? I don’t think—”

  Kyja pulled out the Exsalusentia just enough so that the little man could see its silver edge. “If you don’t want to help us, I’m sure . . .”

  “Fine,” he squeaked. “I’ll do it.”

  Chapter 33

  Memories and Messages

  The group of four stepped out of the mist and into the Was. Riph Raph clung to Kyja’s shoulder, looking about nervously. The hallway was exactly as Marcus remembered it—the same bright yellow walls, same red floor, even the same gold-framed paintings. He looked around for the little boy but didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he was scared off by such a big group, or maybe his absence had something to do with Mr. Z being with them.

  “Where are we?” Graehl turned quickly around, his eyes darting every direction. His hand was back on his sword. “Is this some kind of Dark Circle trap?” He looked at a painting. “This is me just a few minutes ago.” He reached for the frame.

  “Eh, eh, eh,” Mr. Z squeaked holding up a finger. “That would be unwise. Unless you are the kind of person that pokes his head into a fire dragon’s mouth to test the heat, it’s best not to disturb one’s past.”

  Graehl pulled back his hand and stepped away from the wall.

  “It’s okay,” Kyja said. “The air elementals sent us here. It’s safe.” She glanced at Marcus. “At least I think it is.”

  “Look,” Riph Raph said, standing by the other wall. “It’s us.”

  Marcus looked at a painting showing him and Kyja flying above Air Keep on the backs of the ciralati. Riph Raph was a little way behind, struggling to keep up. Apparently the hall was now divided into two sides—one for Graehl and one for him and Kyja. He turned back to the other wall with Graehl’s painting, but found himself looking at another painting of Kyja and himself. This one showed him and Kyja listening to Jaklah’s report.

  He turned back to Kyja’s wall; there was the picture of Graehl. “Who keeps moving the paintings?”

  “Don’t be obstreperous,” Mr. Z said. “The paintings are not moving.”

  Marcus had no idea what obstreperous meant, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment. But the paintings were definitely moving. He pointed to the left. “That wall’s Graehl.” He looked right. “And that’s Kyja and me.” He looked left again. “But now this wall has a different painting of Kyja and me.”

  “He’s right,” Kyja said. “They keep moving.”

  Mr. Z gave an exasperated sigh. “Use your eyes, lad. That side is Graehl. That side is Kyja. And that side is you. Simple arithmetic.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to argue that there couldn’t be three sides to a hall, before realizing that Mr. Z was right. There were three walls. He didn’t notice when looking at one wall. But if he let his eyes relax, not focusing on anything specific, he could see three walls at the same time—like one of those optical illusions, where the stairs always went up in a square. It made him feel a little sick to his stomach.

  Riph Raph looked from one wall to another and made a gagging sound. “Simple arithmetic, my beak. More like sickening arithmetic.”

  “Do I dare ask what’s behind the doors?” Graehl asked, not coming close to touching anything after Mr. Z’s last warning.

  “This is called the Was,” Marcus said, trying not to look at the paintings as he walked. Just like before, he had no pain in his leg or arm; he walked easily. He would have to try not to get used to the feeling, remembering how much worse the pain felt when he left the Was. “The paintings are like bits of memories, and the doors open into those memories. Except you can only visit places you’ve been. And if you try to leave your memories, you can’t. The farther we walk, the further back in time we go. ”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Z said, skipping impatiently ahead of them. “Memories, doorways. All well and good. Let’s move along, shall we? Time is wasting. Important things to be about. Mustn’t take all day.”

  “But it’s not wasting, is it?” Kyja asked, hurrying to catch up. “I mean, time isn’t moving while we’re here.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mr. Z said. “Well, be silly if you’d like. Just do it more quickly.” He hurried them down the hallway like a dog herding s
heep. “Of course time moves. Can’t stop it any more than you could stop a rampaging nerite. Just runs more slowly there when we’re here. Runs backwards here when we’re there. Runs sideways if you’re here and there, and the other place, which makes for delightful racing conditi—” He looked up as though realizing what he was saying, and quickly closed his mouth.

  Marcus caught up with him. “Back in Air Keep you talked about losing a race.”

  The little man gave him a sideways glance.

  “Is that the only reason you tricked me into leaving the monastery? And left Kyja the note? Just to settle a bet?”

  Mr. Z gave him a crafty look and rattled a pair of dice in his hand. “There are more ways than one to win a wager. And not all wagers are created equal.”

  Like that answered anything. Marcus didn’t know why he even bothered asking the little man questions.

  “How did you two discover this Was ?” Graehl asked, his long legs covering twice as much distance as Marcus and Kyja with each step. “And who’s your little friend with the interesting taste in clothes?”

  “Ask him yourself sometime when we’re not around,” Marcus muttered. “But make sure you have nothing else to do for a while.”

  Kyja ran a hand along a wall with paintings of her poring over scrolls and practicing sword fighting. “This doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, it’s kind of fun.” She looked at Marcus. “Why were you so scared of coming here?”

  “I wasn’t scared.” Marcus hesitated. “There’s just more to the Abyss than you think. It’s like this place is all one big trap.”

  Kyja studied him, but Marcus couldn’t meet her eyes for fear she’d read what he was thinking. What if she realized he was trying to keep her out of the Will Be and decided they should visit the future? He could imagine her expression when she saw the glass coffin being lowered into the ground and realized who was inside it. He wiped his palms on his pants.

  “This is it,” Graehl said, stopping by a painting.

  Marcus—who still had serious doubts that the man he continued to think of as a cave trulloch had witnessed any conversation between Master Therapass and the elementals—examined the painting. In it, Graehl was talking to a broad-shouldered man in a leather apron, but there was no sign of Master Therapass.

  “That’s Graham, the blacksmith,” Kyja said, looking over Marcus’s shoulder. She pointed to someone in the top left-hand corner of the painting, nearly out of sight. “Look, that’s Master Therapass.”

  Marcus squinted, managing to make out a figure in a blue robe. He guessed it could be the wizard. But that still didn’t mean he’d spoken to the elementals, neither of which was in the painting.

  Graehl pointed to the door. “Shall we? Or would you rather stay here and continue to doubt my story?”

  Marcus grunted. “Let’s go.”

  Graehl, Kyja, and Marcus opened the door, but Mr. Z stayed in the hallway. “Aren’t you coming?” Marcus asked.

  “You paid me to bring you here,” the little man said, rattling his dice. “That’s exactly what I have done. No more. No less.”

  “Actually, we didn’t pay you at all,” Kyja said.

  Mr. Z tapped his nose. “Of that, my girl, I am all too aware.”

  “Whatever,” Marcus said, wondering how Kyja managed to surround herself with such an untrustworthy bunch—Riph Raph, who whined and complained all the time; Graehl, who up until a few months ago had spent his time feeding people to the Unmakers; and Mr. Z, who was plain nuts. He almost said something about her choice of companions, before remembering what he’d seen in the Will Be. What he’d seen there—what he’d done—made him by far the worst of the group.

  They stepped through the door, and Kyja looked around, filled with wonder. “It’s like we’re back in Terra ne Staric all over again. Except right before you left. I think you’re in the arena, practicing fencing with Tankum.”

  “Is that before or after you embarrassed Turnip Head?” Riph Raph asked.

  Marcus felt his face go hot, remembering how Kyja had stepped into the practice arena and made his pathetic attempts at sword fighting look childish.

  Kyja glanced around. “Where’s Graehl?” She checked the doorway still open behind them. He’d been right there, but now he was gone.

  “Probably freaking out,” Marcus said, remembering how he got stuck in his old body the first time he’d entered a door in the Was. He crossed the open plaza to where Graehl and Graham seemed to be discussing swords. “You want an angular cut,” the brawny blacksmith said, making a chopping motion with one calloused hand.

  “No.” The Graehl from before shook his head, long hair flapping on his shoulders. “Stabbing. Light yet supple.”

  “How do you like the past?” Marcus asked the tall man. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” He knew Graehl couldn’t respond while he was inside the copy of himself, but he enjoyed the thought of him panicking when he realized he couldn’t change his actions or words as long as he was locked in the other body.

  Kyja walked cautiously up behind him. “Can’t they hear you?”

  “The blacksmith can’t. And the Graehl from back then can’t. They can’t see or hear us.” Marcus walked up behind the brawny man and pretended to pat him on the shoulder. “Blacksmith, anyone ever tell you your face looks just like your anvil? I hope that sulfur smell is coming from the forge.”

  Kyja glanced toward Master Therapass. “Hurry. Here comes Cascade.”

  “Fine.” Marcus walked directly in front of Graehl, who was explaining exactly the kind of blade he was looking for. He waved his hands before Graehl, like an eye doctor giving a checkup. “You know, you can come out of your body anytime you want. Unless you like being stuck in there.”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then the Graehl from now stepped out of the Graehl from then. It was actually kind of cool to see it happen from the outside. The long-haired man turned to look at himself. He stared into his own eyes and shook his head. “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t quite what I expected.” He looked at Marcus, one side of his mouth rising in a wry smile. “Thanks for the warning, friend.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Any time.”

  “Come on,” Kyja said, trotting toward the stables. “Here comes Lanctrus-Darnoc.”

  Marcus and Graehl ran after her, Graehl glancing over his shoulder as though he couldn’t believe what he had just experienced.

  As they reached the stables, Master Therapass was pulling the two elementals out of sight around the corner of the building. Things appeared a little grainier the farther they got from the blacksmith shop, as if Graehl’s memory wasn’t quite as clear. Marcus was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, since Graehl hadn’t heard anything in his memory. But apparently the past didn’t work that way.

  “You got my megrsshktes?” the wizard said.

  “What did he say?” Graehl asked.

  Marcus shrugged. “I couldn’t make out the last word.”

  “Yes,” Cascade said, and both the fox and boar heads of Lanctrus-Darnoc nodded.

  “I think he said messages,” Kyja whispered, moving closer.

  “Then you know there culdghts be spies anywhqrts.” The wizard’s voice faded in and out like a poorly tuned radio. He glanced toward the blacksmith shop then turned his head to look straight at Kyja, Marcus, and Graehl.

  Kyja—who had been sliding along the edge of the stables—froze at the wizard’s gaze. But Marcus walked straight into the group. “They can’t see or hear you.”

  Therapass turned back to the elementals, his expression grave. “I had hoped I was wlkirths about the vhareticl, Cascade. But it is clear that at least one elemental has shytuu wintf the Dark Circle.”

  Kyja frowned. “I can’t understand everything he’s saying. Some of his words are garbled.”

  “I think it’s because we’re near the edge of Graehl’s memory,” Marcus whispered. “But it sounds like Master Therapass knew there was a traitor al
l along.”

  Graehl shook his head. “If the land and water elementals are involved, there’s more than one traitor.”

  Cascade’s nostrils flared as he spoke to Lanctrus-Darnoc. “If hyryb is a betrayer, jih rix not a Fontasian.”

  “No land elementals yehytrup stoop to slurger thing,” the fox head said.

  “It graunch the stink of water,” the boar snarled.

  Kyja shook her head. “Listen to them, arguing like selfish children—and within days of fighting against the same enemy.”

  Master Therapass ignored their bickering and placed a hand on the water elemental’s shoulder. “Someone has hrkstn relaying inshteuyion to the enemy. Information that kratch ligert come from the vision of a water edbygdhgky or the jyuifthet of land elementals. I need you to find the informer and fghurling back to me.”

  Marcus strained, trying to decipher what the wizard was saying.

  “Why not us?” Lanctrus-Darnoc said. “Whether the elietery be land or water, we axthir hornetrgbind to see it stopped.”

  Master Therapass looked around the corner of the stables, where the Graehl of the past had finished speaking with Graham and was now walking in their direction. The wizard turned to Lanctrus-Darnoc and spoke quickly. “I have another trighur for you. I am sending you erg with Tankum’s forces. As far as they clegert you are going to sirght for the Keepers.”

  As Graehl approached, everything looked less grainy, but the wizard’s words were just as difficult to understand. Maybe because Graehl hadn’t actually heard them?

  “When you ritdge the Windlash Mountains,” Therapass told Lanctrus-Darnoc. “I need you to explore the caburts of the Unmakers. I fear a prectigggkle has been ophurter there. A passage directly to the shaflowerg ruleffs.”

  “What did he say?” Graehl asked. “What about the cavern of the Unmakers?” As the tall man pushed closer, his hip brushed against a shovel leaning against the wall.

  Both Therapass and the elementals spun around as the tool clanged to the ground. Marcus froze in shock.