Marcus had never seen Mr. Z so angry. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just . . . I didn’t think you were going to come, and I have to go back into the Abyss one last time.”
“No.” Mr. Z folded his arms across his chest.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I won’t take you.” Mr. Z picked up his coat, folded the torn pieces, and wrapped them in a bundle. “We’re done. Finished. Complete. Kaput.”
“Please,” Marcus begged, fighting the panic rising inside him. “One last time. I have to go back.”
“Don’t you understand, lad? Have you been hit on the head too many times? If you enter the Abyss now, you will never come out.”
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if I come back. You don’t even have to go with me. Just get me to the pit, and I’ll do the rest myself.”
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Z turned to walk away, but Marcus dove toward him, tackling the little man to the floor.
“You will take me,” he snarled, jabbing his wand into Mr. Z’s chest. “Or I swear . . .”
“Marcus!” Kyja cried, stepping into the room. “What are you doing?”
A weight lifted from Marcus’s chest. “You’re okay,” he sobbed. “You’re not . . .”
“What are you doing to Mr. Z?” Kyja pulled him off.
“The lad’s gone crazy,” Mr. Z said, his voice high and squeaky. “He wanted me to take him into the Abyss again. I said it would kill him. But he didn’t care. He attacked me.”
“Is that true?” Kyja asked.
Marcus turned away, but she walked around him, forcing him to look at her. “Why did you want to go back into the Abyss? What haven’t you been telling me? It’s about whatever is behind the last portal, isn’t it?”
Marcus tried to speak, but his throat was locked. After all of their time together, he couldn’t lie to Kyja. But he also couldn’t stand for her to know the truth—to know what a terrible person he really was. Tears dripped down his face.
Kyja sat beside him and took his hand. “The one thing we have over the elementals is trust. With all of our mistakes and flaws, we still have that. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me whatever it is that you’ve been hiding, what do we have left?”
Marcus looked into her eyes for a moment, unable to stand what he saw there. She did trust him, and how was he going to repay her? He had to let her see what he really was.
He turned to Mr. Z. “Show her.”
“Eh?” Mr. Z cupped his ear. “Afraid I didn’t hear you.”
Marcus swallowed, the salty taste of tears thick in his throat. “You’re a creature of pure magic. If you won’t take me into the Abyss, show her what I saw in the Will Be. Can you do that?”
Mr. Z took off his glasses and turned them between his fingers. “Well, I . . .”
“Please,” Marcus begged. “Do this one last thing, and I promise I won’t ask you for anything ever again. Show her what’s going to happen. Show her what I really am, and your bargain with the Aerisians will be fulfilled.”
The little man placed his glasses on his big red bulb of a nose and sighed. “Very well.”
Chapter 42
Trust
Kyja found herself standing in a heavy, swirling mist. All sounds of the battle outside the tower were gone. Marcus was standing beside her. “Where are we?”
“In the future,” Marcus said, his voice thick with emotion. “When I went through the mirror in Elder Ephraim’s office, I entered into the Is, the Was, and then the Will Be. There was a man there who warned me that if I went any further, I would lock my future in place. But I didn’t listen.” He swallowed. “I wish I had.”
For a moment Kyja thought about turning back. Did she really want to see what had terrified Marcus so much? But if she turned away now, how could she help him face whatever he was afraid of? She reached out to take his hand, but her fingers went through his. Apparently neither of them was really there. “Show me,” she said. “Whatever it is, I’m ready.”
Together they stepped out of the fog and into a room she recognized immediately. She’d spent countless hours there studying magic, trying to understand why she was different from all her friends.
The tower seemed oddly quiet. “Where is everyone?”
Marcus turned and led her out of the study and down the hall, to a window that looked out over the city. Kyja sucked in her breath. It seemed even worse now than it had during the battle. Terra ne Staric was in ruins—walls crushed, gates burned, farms and houses destroyed. The thought of how many lives must have been lost made her sick.
Turning to the west, she saw a large group of people gathered together. “It looks like most of the town. What are they doing?”
Marcus’s face was as white as the bedding Kyja used to hang on the Goodnuffs’ line at the beginning of every week.
“It might be better if you didn’t know.”
Kyja’s stomach churned. There was something she was missing here. “Whatever it is, I want to know.”
Marcus sighed. “All right.”
Suddenly, they stood outside the west gate—one of the few areas where grass still grew and the ground wasn’t torn up by the golems’ attack. Kyja moved through the crowd. Every face was someone she knew. All of them were weeping. This had to be a funeral.
Of course, many lives had been lost in the battle. There would be many funerals. But who was loved enough—cherished enough—to bring the entire town out like this? Suddenly, she knew, and a ball of ice lodged in her throat. There was only one person who had affected this many lives for good.
“Master Therapass!” she screamed, racing through the crowd. She ran to the glass coffin as they prepared to lower it into the ground. She skidded to a halt. Master Therapass stood at the edge of the grave, openly weeping.
If he wasn’t being buried, who was?
On wooden legs, she walked to the coffin and looked inside. Her mouth went dry as she saw who lay on the white satin pillow.
“No,” she whispered, feeling dizzy. She turned to Marcus just behind her. His head hung, hair covering his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping from his lips and chin. She felt numb.
“How? How did I . . .” She couldn’t seem to form the words. “Was it the battle? An accident?”
Marcus couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled himself out of the vision, knowing what Kyja would see—what she would discover about him—unable to see the vision again. That made him a coward as well as a murderer. Outside, he still heard the sounds of the battle going on, but none of that seemed to matter anymore.
Pacing the small tower room, he imagined Kyja going to the dungeon, discovering the cell holding her murderer. Learning who it was. What would her reaction be when she realized the truth?
First shock, then revulsion, and finally, horror.
Mr. Z watched him silently, but Marcus couldn’t bear to meet the little man’s eyes.
When Kyja finally returned, he buried his face in his hands, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he cried, his body shaking. “I’m so sorry.”
When Kyja returned, Marcus was shaking in the center of the room. A hundred questions filled her mind, but the first thing she did was hurry to him and put her arms around his trembling shoulders.
She held him close. “It’s all right.”
“Don’t you understand?” he cried, jerking away from her. “You’re going to die, and it’s going to be my fault. I murder you.”
Kyja searched her heart for anger or a sense of betrayal. But despite all her questions, none of her feelings for Marcus had changed.
“Now can you see why I couldn’t tell you?” Marcus asked, his voice muffled. “I wanted to change the future, but I can’t. It’s too late. You must hate me.”
She drew him back into her arms, squeezing so tightly he couldn’t pull away. “I don’t hate you. I love you.”
Marcus looked up at her, his eyes red. “How can you say that after what you just saw?”
Kyja struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want to die. But if I have to, I’d want it to be with the person I trust most. And that’s you.” She wiped her eyes. “You trusted me enough to show me the worst part of you. And I trust that whatever you do will be for the right reasons. You’re the person I care about most in my entire life. That’s not going to change.”
Something clicked in Kyja’s pocket. She reached into it, trying to remember what was there, and pulled out the silver box. “The Exsalusentia,” she murmured. “It’s open.”
Marcus stared at it as Kyja lifted the lid. A pearly blue light rose from inside the box and disappeared. “How?” he asked, turning to Mr. Z.
The little man was grinning. “I trusted you’d find the key eventually.”
“Trust,” Kyja said. “That was the key to open the box. It’s why the air elementals could never open it—because they don’t have trust.”
Marcus ran a finger across the symbol for air. “But if the box is open, that means . . .”
From outside of the tower came a rushing sound Kyja didn’t recognize. She helped Marcus up, and the two of them hurried to the window.
“Look!” she cried, pointing upward. The sky was filled with hundreds of sleek, silver-gray creatures. On the back of each one was a figure. Kyja couldn’t tell for sure, but she was almost positive the first two were Caelum and Divum.
“It’s the air elementals!” she shouted. “They’ve come to help us.”
Kyja turned to find Mr. Z climbing back into his snail. “Are you leaving?”
Mr. Z examined his coat, which was still ripped completely down the middle, and his hat, which had a large chunk missing from the brim. “I’m afraid I’ll be spending some time with my tailor. Frightful fellows, tailors. Always keeping me on pins and needles.”
“Thanks for your help,” Marcus said. “Will we see you again?”
Mr. Z rattled a pair of dice in his hand. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” He opened his fingers, looked at the dice, and smiled just a little. “Then again, I wouldn’t bet against it either.”
Chapter 43
The Battle
Come on,” Kyja said, wrapping Marcus’s arm around her
shoulder. “Let’s go help.”
As they started down the spiral staircase, he felt a new sense of optimism in the tower—a new energy.
“Take up your swords!” someone shouted.
“Drive them back!” a skinny man yelled, and Marcus recognized the cranky little wizard who had complained about being woken up by Jaklah’s message.
“Did you hear?” Jaklah called, racing past them. “Help has arrived. From the air. I hear it might be angels!”
Marcus grinned. The Aerisians were definitely their saving angels. Outside, the battle still raged at the base of the tower. Wizards of all ages fired blasts of light, fire, and air into the golem army. At the same time, unseen hands from above sent them reeling.
The golems seemed confused, unsure whether to concentrate on the fight in front or above them. One of the giants grabbed a stone that had fallen from the tower wall and lifted it over his head, taking aim at the nearest air elemental.
“Put that down, big boy!” Tankum charged at the golem, twin blades glinting in the sun. “You won’t be needing that!” His right blade flashed, and the golem’s leg separated from his body just above the knee. His left blade swung, and the arm holding the rock dropped to the ground.
“I’ll be back!” Kyja yelled. She lowered Marcus to the grass on the side of the hill, then ran straight into the middle of the fray. “No one takes our city!” she shouted, her silver-blue sword a blur of motion. Dirt flew about her head in a dark brown cloud as she stabbed and slashed.
“You heard the lady!” Riph Raph screeched, raining blue fireballs that did little but looked impressive.
“Wait!” Marcus called, afraid that she’d get hurt. But Kyja seemed to be having so much fun that he couldn’t bear to call her back. Instead he pulled out his wand and attacked the closest golems with all the spells he knew. It felt great to have the hot power of magic flowing through him again. He discovered that he was just as good as the older, more experienced wizards.
From the top of the tower, Master Therapass rained down fire while calling out directions and encouragement. “To your right, Graham!” he called to a blacksmith swinging a heavy axe. “Behind you!” he yelled to a pair of soldiers wielding swords that burned with a bright red fire. “Good work.”
A huge black caldron bounced down the hill, passed Marcus, and knocked a golem flying like a bowling pin. “That’s for trying to burn down my kitchen!” Bella shouted. “And believe me, there’s more where that came from!”
Slowly, the golems were driven back outside the city wall. Encouraged by their success, the citizens pressed their attack to the edge of the Two Prongs River.
Reaching the muddy banks, the golems seemed on the edge of defeat. But almost as though their goal had been the river all along, dozens of new golems rose from the mud. Injured golems grew new limbs and healed their wounds.
With a sick feeling, Marcus watched the army grow and regroup. Repaired, and with greater numbers, the golems drove their attackers back again, forcing them toward the city walls.
“Not so fast,” a voice called.
Marcus craned his neck to see Divum flying straight over his head. The rest of the Aerisians formed a V behind her. “Wind!” she screamed. “All the wind you have!”
At her words, a huge gust of air blew across the battlefield, then another, and another. Wizards and warriors were thrown from their feet. Wands blew away, and staffs flew through the air like toothpicks.
“No!” Marcus screamed. Didn’t the Aerisans realize what they were doing? The wind was knocking down the humans, but the golems were too big to be affected by it—too strong. Heads lowered, they marched into the tornado.
The Aerisians had just guaranteed Terra ne Staric’s defeat.
Then he saw something that didn’t make sense. One of the golems’ arms cracked and blew right off its body. Another golem took a step, and its leg crumbled. One of the monsters tried to turn, and the top half of its torso broke away from the lower half, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.
The golems were drying out. The wind was so strong that it was drying the clay, making it weak and brittle.
Seeing what was happening, the humans got to their feet. With the wind at their backs, they charged toward the weakened golems.
Kyja and Tankum fought side by side, raining blows that shredded the creatures.
“You’ve learned a thing or two, girly!” the warrior called.
“You’re not too bad yourself!” Kyja yelled back. “I’ll teach you a few things when this is over.”
“Get ’em!” Marcus whooped from his spot on the hill.
Once again the golems were backed to the edge of the shallow river. With the muddy riverbed to draw on, they withstood the Aerisians’ attack. Slowly, their forces rehydrated. The battle was a standoff. As long as the golems had water, they were unbeatable. The Aerisians managed to keep them from advancing toward the city. But how long could they keep it up?
A deep rumbling sound filled the air. Marcus looked to the north. Lightning flashed, and clouds were filling the horizon so thickly they looked like a solid gray wall. Rain was the last thing they needed. In a storm, the golems would have all the moisture they needed.
As if the thought of a storm had rejuvenated them, the golems gave one last surge. Air elementals and humans fought in a desperate battle at the edge of the river. But it couldn’t last. Already, the human forces were tiring, while the golems didn’t seem to need any rest at all.
Thunder roared again, the rumbling growing louder. He couldn’t tell what was making the sound. Then he saw it. Racing down the bed of the Two Prongs River came a wall of churning water at least fifty feet high. Perched at the very top was a figure in a blue robe. Cascade!
“Get back!”
the Fontasian shouted, his white hair rippling in the wind.
Just above Cascade, Raindrop flew, her robe snapping behind her in a rainbow of color. The storm boiled at her heels. Rain so heavy that it seemed to fall in blankets instead of drops pounded the ground.
“Get away from the river!” Marcus screamed, cupping his hands to his mouth.
Tankum recognized the danger and drove his forces back, carrying those who were too injured to move.
The golems saw what was coming. But either they were too stupid to understand the danger, or they were too slow to avoid it. As the wall of water came roaring down the riverbed, the golems turned into it, raising their fists as if they could fight the water itself.
Cascade pumped his fists in the air, shouting, “This is for you, Tide!” It was the most emotion Marcus had ever seen from him.
The wall of water lifted the golems like toys, ripping them limb from limb as they tried to attack it. Chunks of brown mud swirled in the melee, then disappeared.
Two minutes later, the flood was gone, and so were the golems.
For a moment, no one seemed to understand what had happened. Then a cheer went up.
“Victory!” Tankum yelled, raising his fists in the pounding rain. “Victory!”
Soldiers pulled off their helms and held them in front of them to catch the water. Townspeople celebrated—husbands and wives kissing each other as they slipped in the mud, parents picking up their sopping wet children and spinning them around.
Marcus found an abandoned staff and limped to the overflowing riverbank. His body felt better already. Not completely healed, but some.
“We did it!” Kyja screamed, throwing her arms around Marcus’s neck and kissing him on the cheek.
Cascade rose up out of the river, his expression serious again. “I apologize for my late arrival,” he said. “I was not aware of how long it would take to empty Land Keep. Nor did I account for the small amount of water available in local tributaries for the flow I wished to create in the Two Prongs River.”
Air Keep Page 27