Air Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  “Caelum,” Marcus said. “He still hasn’t shown up?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Master Therapass said, coming through the doorway behind Marcus. “It would appear that he has joined Tide and Nizgar-Gharat in siding with the Dark Circle.”

  Marcus couldn’t believe it. After he and Kyja had freed the Aerisians from Air Keep, how could he turn his back on them? “They promised that if we freed them, they’d fight against the Dark Circle and help us open a drift.”

  Master Therapass nodded, and Marcus again noticed how old the wizard looked lately. The battles and late nights poring over scrolls and books had taken their toll. “Apparently Caelum feels the Aerisians kept the first part of their bargain by fighting against the golems here and against the Summoner in Icehold. We wouldn’t have survived without their help. Divum has committed to join you in your attempt to open the drift. And I think she feels disappointed by Caelum’s actions as well, but she would never say so out loud.”

  Two little girls ran by, chasing a boy with a wooden sword. One of the girls waved a hand, turning the boy’s ears into tiny brown owls, and the girls exploded into giggles.

  “I still don’t understand why any of the elementals would side with the Dark Circle,” Marcus said. “What’s in it for them?”

  Master Therapass shifted his weight, seeming as uncomfortable in his fancy robe as Marcus was in his clothes. “Wicked men have always been good at discovering what others desire and then using it to their advantage. What one desires isn’t always the same thing for another. For one, it could be power, for another, freedom from the rules of normal society. For the Aerisian, it may be as simple as the opportunity to player a bigger game with higher stakes.”

  The wizard reached into his robe and pulled out a stoppered vial filled with gray liquid that Marcus thought looked sort of like rat guts. “This is for you.”

  Marcus opened the vial, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. “It’s not more goblin slime, is it?”

  Master Therapass chuckled. “No. In my research on the realm of shadows, I have yet to find a way for you to jump between worlds without some level of danger. Mr. Z’s suggestion of jumping when there is little or no shadow in either world appears to work. I have no idea why. I did, however, discover a way to extend your stay on Farworld, and Kyja’s visits to Earth. Two drops of this potion will double the number of days you can go without getting sick. Four will triple it. Never take more than that.”

  “Awesome.” Marcus tucked the vial in his pocket. “Speaking of Mr. Z, have you seen him?”

  “No. As a creature of pure magic, he can probably spend only so much time around humans without getting bored.”

  Servants came into the hall, carrying platters and bowls of steaming food that made Marcus’s stomach gurgle. He and the wizard headed toward the table reserved for them near the front of the room.

  “I guess we’re just lucky he lost that bet,” Marcus said, squeezing past two men with hanging bellies and triple chins.

  “Bet?” Master Therapass made an almost unnoticeable motion with one hand, and the men’s chairs scooted tightly against their table, forcing them to suck in their considerable guts with a surprised whoof—so he could pass behind them.

  “Yeah,” Marcus said. “The only reason Mr. Z helped us at all was because he made a wager that his racing snail could beat one of the Aerisians’ creatures, and he lost.”

  The wizard burst into laughter, but Marcus didn’t understand what the joke was. “Highly unlikely,” Master Therapass said, still smiling. “No creature on air or land is faster than a good racing snail.”

  “But the Aerisians said Mr. Z lost a bet with them. That’s how they convinced him to bring us to Air Keep so we could open the Exsalusentia.”

  Suddenly, Marcus remembered Mr. Z’s answer in the Was when asked about the bet. Not all wagers are created equal. “They didn’t convince Mr. Z to help them. He tricked them into bringing Kyja and me there. He knew about the box and everything. He must have lost the bet on purpose so they’d think it was their idea the whole time.”

  “Imagine that,” the wizard said, with a twinkle in his eye.

  By the time they reached the table, every seat but theirs had been taken. Kyja sat by Divum. Cascade sat across the table from them, next to Breslek Broomhead. Tankum, who had several major chunks of stone missing from his body—and many cracks—sat on a stone chair constructed especially to hold his weight.

  “Looks like you could use a good stonemason,” said a skinny woman seated next to him.

  “Ha!” roared the warrior. “I always wanted a quick way to take off weight. Looks like I found it.”

  The woman smiled uncomfortably and fiddled with her silverware.

  The only ones missing from the celebration were Graehl and Lanctrus-Darnoc. “Have you heard back from the search party yet?” Marcus asked Master Therapass. “I still can’t believe we forgot to warn Scr—I mean Graehl, about the flying octopus things the Aerisians showed us over the Windlash Mountains.”

  “I have heard nothing yet.” Master Therapass slid out his chair and lowered himself carefully onto it. “I wouldn’t worry, though. Graehl explored every inch of those mountains as a cave trulloch, and Lanctrus-Darnoc is as powerful as he is wise. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  Marcus hoped so. He’d never had a chance to give Graehl a real thanks for the wand, or to apologize for the way he’d doubted him. “You look great,” he told Kyja as he sat beside her.

  “What?” Kyja blinked.

  “I said you look awesome.”

  She wore a dark-blue gown with tiny gems sewn into the fabric, and her dark locks were braided and curled around her head with blue flowers that matched her dress.

  “Who did your hair?” he asked. “It looks sort of familiar.”

  “My hair?” She touched her head and smiled distractedly. “Oh, Divum helped me with it.”

  “It looks nice.”

  Their table and all the others were filled with so much food Marcus couldn’t imagine how anyone could eat it all. He piled his plate with roasted chicken, fish in a buttery crust so light it dissolved on his tongue, potatoes that made their own creamy gravy whenever you cut into them with a fork, a fruit that looked a little like a starfish but changed flavor with every bite, and so many other things he couldn’t count them, let alone taste them all.

  “Have you thought about how we’re going to find the fire elementals?” he asked Kyja between bites.

  She didn’t seem to be eating much, and he wondered if she’d been down in the kitchen sneaking food before the dinner. “Actually,” she said, jabbing at a piece of melon with her fork. “That’s what I’ve been talking to Divum about. Caelum didn’t want her to tell us until we freed them, but now that she’s on our side, she says that the fire elementals are blocked from coming to Farworld—like the Aerisians were. Reaching Air Keep was tricky, but getting to Fire Keep will be much harder.”

  Marcus took a bite of a roll that grew piping hot and swelled in his mouth. He fanned his lips. “Does Divum have any idea how we can get to Fire Keep?”

  “Yes.” Kyja stared at her plate before looking up and smiling. “She knows a way for you to send me there. Once I’m inside, I can pull you over. And then, when we free the fire elementals, we can come back together.”

  “Great,” Marcus said. What was so hard about that?

  More kitchen workers arrived, carrying away the dinner plates and bringing in pies, cakes, crystalized sugar balls filled with jams and jellies, and many other desserts. Marcus clasped his stomach and groaned. “I’m going to weigh five hundred pounds when I get out of here.”

  High Lord Broomhead stood and tapped his glass with the edge of his spoon. “Quiet, everyone! Quiet!”

  Around the hall, conversations slowed, and then they died out completely as parents hushed their children.

  “These desserts look delicious, and I’m sure you’d rather eat them than listen to me.”

  Laughte
r filled the room, and someone shouted, “Keep it short!”

  “I intend to,” Breslek called back, to a rousing cheer. “But first I want to thank a few people who made it possible for us to be here now. First, for the sumptuous meal, our cook, Bella, and her staff.”

  “Huzzah!” the crowd shouted. Bella, who stood near the kitchen in a food-stained apron, curtsied.

  “Second, for protecting our city, the guards and our good friends the stone warriors and wizards.”

  “Huzzah!” Marcus joined in.

  Tankum raised his stone hands to his mouth. “We just wish we could enjoy the food as much as you!”

  Breslek rubbed his belly. “Third, our good friends the Aerisians, the Fontasians, and the land elementals, whose names I’m afraid I can’t pronounce.”

  Another huzzah, mingled with laughter.

  “And you, the people of Terra ne Staric. Because every man, woman, and child did their part to hold out against the golems. You should all be proud of yourselves.”

  Marcus hooted along with the rest of the room, clapping until his palms ached.

  “Lastly,” Breslek said, looking directly across the table at Marcus and Kyja, “the two people who freed the Aerisians, removed the land curse from Water Keep so the Fontasians could free Land Keep, saved Terra ne Staric, rescued Icehold, and generally saved Farworld. Am I missing anything?”

  Marcus’s face turned bright red as the room went wild, cheering and stomping. Many people wiped tears from their eyes, as they clapped furiously.

  Master Therapass lifted his hands, signaling Marcus and Kyja to stand. Holding the table for support, Marcus pushed himself to his feet. “Kyja,” he whispered when he realized she was still sitting.

  “What?” she looked around, noticed everyone was watching her, and quickly stood next to Marcus.

  “Toast!” someone shouted. “Give a toast.” And soon the whole room was repeating it. “Toast, toast, toast.”

  Marcus lifted his glass. “To Master Therapass, who sent me away when I was a baby, but did bring me back.” The crowd howled with laughter as the wizard took a pretend bow. “To Mr. Z, wherever you are.” Polite clapping and some confused whispers, as most of the people in the room had no idea who Mr. Z was. “And most of all, to Kyja, who taught me the real meaning of trust.” He lifted his glass and drank the sweet berry juice in it, while the crowd roared with approval.

  Kyja lifted her goblet before realizing it was empty. Marcus reached for a pitcher to fill it, but Kyja pointed to a small silver decanter in front of Divum. Marcus grabbed it and filled her glass with a gold liquid that smelled like flowers. He would have liked to try some of it himself, but there was barely enough to fill Kyja’s glass halfway.

  Kyja held up her goblet and waited for the crowd to grow quiet. “To all of the people here tonight. For so long, I thought I didn’t fit in here. That because I couldn’t do magic, I was alone.” The crowd was silent, and more than a few of them looked down at their plates.

  “But I was wrong. I’m not alone. I may not know who my birth family is. But you, you, you, all of you, are my family. I know that now.” She turned to Marcus. “Thank you for helping me remember that even the things we think of as our weaknesses—our flaws—can become our strengths if we trust others enough to help us through them.”

  The crowd started to clap, but Kyja held up a hand to stop them so she could continue. Marcus noticed her hand was trembling slightly. “I also want to say that even if I have to leave for a while, know that I love you all. And . . .” She swallowed and brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I will always be here. Even if you can’t see me.”

  There was a smattering of confused applause as Kyja quickly drank the liquid from her goblet and sat down.

  “What was that about?” Marcus whispered to her, taking his seat. “Where are we going?”

  Kyja rested her hands flat on the table. “Mortals can’t enter the doorway to Fire Keep. It’s . . .” She took a deep breath and relaxed back into her seat. “It’s designed to keep humans out and fire elementals in.”

  “Then we’ll figure a way around that,” Marcus said. “Maybe Mr. Z can help us.”

  “He can’t,” Kyja said, looking up with her deep green eyes. “No one with magic can enter into the doorway. That’s why I need to go first and then pull you over.”

  “Are you all right?” Marcus asked. Her face seemed too pale, and her breathing was slowing down.

  “I’m fine.” Kyja smiled softly. “The last rule about Fire Keep is that I can’t go through the door by myself. I have to be sent by someone I love.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her fingers were ice cold.

  Suddenly, Marcus remembered where he’d seen her hairstyle before. The flowers, the braid resting on a silk pillow in the glass coffin. He looked from her empty goblet to the silver decanter. The decanter he had poured her drink from.

  I couldn’t go through the door myself. I had to be sent by someone I love.

  “No!” he screamed. “You can’t do this. There has to be another way.”

  Kyja smiled at him one last time. She whispered, “I . . . love . . . you,” then closed her eyes and stopped breathing.

  Chapter 46

  The Cell

  Marcus heard the footsteps on the wet stone floor, but he didn’t look up.

  Breslek Broomhead stopped outside his cell door. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be out there, at her funeral.” He waved his hands at the dripping dungeon walls. “You don’t belong here. Master Therapass told us everything and no one blames you for what happened.”

  Marcus gazed at his hands—filthy from the grime and dirt of the unwashed floors and walls. They were the hands that had killed Kyja by pouring the poison into her goblet. He would never wash them again. “This is where I belong. The law against murder is clear. If you let me go, you’d have to let every killer go too.”

  Breslek knelt before the cell and gripped the iron bars. “Did you do it?” he asked “Did you kill her?”

  “Yes,” Marcus repeated the words he’d heard twice before—the words he’d sworn he would never have to say. “I did it. I murdered her.”

  Something rustled in the upper corner of his cell. “You didn’t know what was in the glass,” Riph Raph said. “Even a turnip head like you should understand that it wasn’t murder.”

  “I should have known!” Marcus snapped, the nails of his fingers cutting into his palms. “If I’d figured out what she was doing even a few minutes earlier, I could have stopped her. I could have thrown the poison away. We could have figured out something else, another way.” He frowned up at the skyte. “You don’t have to stay here with me. You didn’t kill anyone.”

  Riph Raph’s ears drooped. He flew down from the torch bracket he’d been perching on to land beside Marcus. “Since the day she rescued me, I’ve spent every waking moment of my life with her.” Tears dripped from his gold eyes, spattering on the muddy floor. “When she pulls you over, I’m coming.”

  “I know,” Marcus whispered. “I’m sorry.” He pulled the skyte onto his lap and hugged him to his chest.

  “Master Therapass is placing powerful protections on the coffin,” Breslek said. “Nothing will be able to open it until she returns. Her body . . .” He wiped his eyes and sniffed. “Her body will remain just as it was the moment she stopped breathing.”

  Marcus nodded. “I know.”

  “He wants to talk to you.”

  Marcus shook his head. “It’s against the law. No one but the High Lord can visit a murderer.”

  Breslek stood. “Is there anything I can bring you?”

  “No.” Marcus stared at his hands until the High Lord disappeared.

  “She’ll come for you,” Riph Raph said.

  Marcus swallowed. “I know.”

  But what if she didn’t? What if she couldn’t? It had been five days since she died. Five days without a word. Without any tug in his stomach or any kind of signal at all that she
was still out there.

  He pulled out the silver box he and Kyja had opened together, running his fingers across its cool, smooth surface. “I trust you, Kyja,” he whispered, “I do. But please come soon.”

  Epilogue

  Caelum wrinkled his nose at the stink of sulfur in the dank room. Used to the clear mountain skies of Air Keep, the smoky chamber made him anxious and fidgety.

  “You don’t approve of my home?” the master asked.

  Caelum glanced uncomfortably at the figure seated before him, wishing he could see the face hidden under the dark cowl. Instead he stared briefly at the glowing eyes before dropping his gaze to the wrinkled gray hands clutching the arms of the throne.

  “The girl is still dead,” Tide said.

  The master looked at the land elementals. “Can you get to her?”

  “She is protected,” the purple lizard head hissed.

  “The wizard’s magic is strong.”

  The master cackled, his white tongue poking out between his withered, gray lips. “That surprises you, doesn’t it? That a human could cast magic too strong for a mighty . . .” He made a sound that was a series of hisses, clicks, and pops. Caelum assumed it must be what the land elementals called themselves.

  “I taught Therapass everything he knows. And I am ten times as powerful as he is.” The master’s red eyes glowed like fire. “Let that be a reminder to you. In case you ever think about leaving my service.”

  Caelum chafed, wanting to be outside again in the fresh air, but he didn’t dare show it. “And if she doesn’t come back?”

  The master cackled again, clapping his wrinkled gray hands. “If the girl remains dead, the boy will soon follow, and Farworld will be ours. You will win your game. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Caelum had hated being trapped in Air Keep. The idea of an entire world to play his tricks on was almost too good to imagine.

  “And if she does?” Nizgar-Gharat asked. “What happens if she manages to return from Fire Keep?”