Keeper of Reign

by Emma Right

  **************************

  For a second the shadow following them determined to strike Jules and his siblings again, but he stopped. They thought they were invincible with the dragonfly lantern, but direct attack wasn’t the only way to exterminate Elfies. Whisperer should know. He’d been perfecting the art through the ages. The proper time would come. It always did.

  He pursed his lips upward toward the clouds, first softly, then more intensely, his gaze never wavering from the siblings. His master had given him authority over the elements of the air. He could use it to his advantage, but this time he would use something that had worked before.

  Beta had told him about the Laceworks, and it was a perfect plan, assuming Beta’s trick had convinced the boy and his siblings to get inside. And once the Blaze kids were gone, he could finish his task and search the wreck left behind by the fire.

  It should be on one of them.

  Whisperer flew from the cypress he was perched upon, and several more pinecones dropped from the redwood tree.

  16 - BEWARE

  THE LACEWORK HOME stood under the niche of the tallest redwood in that part of the woods. The redwood poked above the rest in the canopy of green rivaling even some of the oldest spruces there.

  “Look.” Ralston pointed to a shred of green fabric on a branch, obviously torn by some brambles near a boulder.

  “Someone was in a hurry.” Jules picked the fabric and examined it.

  “Looks like Holden’s cloak.”

  Ralston parted the brambles and slipped, cutting his hand as he righted himself. “There’s a hole here in the ground.”

  “Stay away. Could be a gopher home. You don’t want to end up being gopher food next.”

  Standing on the Lacework’s front porch, a savory fragrance, maybe potato soup, wafted toward them. Which was an odd coincidence, Jules thought.

  His stomach rumbled and he was about to knock on the door when Tippy let out one of her infamous shrieks. He turned and there she stood, tangled in Fiesty’s blue ribbon as she and the dragonfly struggled to detangle themselves. Tst Tst and Bitha, in helping, only made things worse, so Jules strode over.

  “Here, take my lantern,” he instructed Bitha, who already had her hands full, what with their pillow-cased belongings.

  Tst Tst was handling the other one. “Maybe Mrs. L has a pair of scissors to cut her loose.”

  Jules motioned for Bitha to place her lantern over Tippy’s head. “Here’s the problem—pass me your stone and squeeze your palm inward really tight.” To free his hand he pocketed her stone. “Now, pass your hand through here.” Finally he freed her and pocketed the ribbon. “It could’ve strangled you.”

  He strode to the door again but a roar above stopped him from knocking. Thunder? He hadn’t noticed the lightning due to the canopy. Was this like the solitary flash last night, a single warning of a pending storm?

  The hair on Jules’s arms stood on ends. Static electricity. “Back away!” He pushed Ralston back and grabbed Tst Tst and Tippy’s arms. “Quick! The boulder!”

  Bitha and Ralston scrambled after him and dove under a groove beneath the boulder. The brambles cut their arms and legs and tore parts of their cloaks.

  The crack shattered the night’s quiet and sounded close. Jules had never heard thunder that close. But it was nothing compared to the explosion that turned the Lacework home and the redwood it was under into an inferno. Flames consumed the tree as if someone had doused the wood with alcohol. Even from behind the boulder the heat from the fire turned their faces red and the smell of singed shrubbery and smoke made their eyes tear.

  “Get away,” Jules shouted amidst the roar of the fire. He pushed them farther behind the boulder and they all fell into the gopher hole Ralston almost slipped into earlier. “Go, go!”

  He shoved the girls in front of him deeper into the hole and pulled Ralston who was coughing and sputtering behind him.

  “My eyes!” Ralston cried. “Help! I can’t see. I’m blind!”

  17 -UNKNOWN

  JULES SLID UNCONTROLLABLY, deeper and deeper down the tunnel, gripping Tippy in one arm. He hoped the others were close behind him but he wasn’t sure. It was dark and he was falling too fast. Screams from Bitha and Tst Tst echoed around him. Were they okay? Mustn’t let go of the lantern, he reminded himself.

  The bottom eventually came. Ralston smashed into Jules’s back, somersaulted and landed with a thump into the side of the burrow, followed by Bitha and Tst Tst. Puffs of dust clouded the air and everyone choked and spluttered. Between hackings Jules said, “Stay put. Let the dust settle. Here, drink water.” He passed Ralston a water pouch.

  “I still can’t see.”

  “Stop fidgeting and just blink,” Jules said.

  The burrow they stood in was large and, even though the air seemed cool, Jules didn’t think they could stay down there indefinitely. Especially if gophers lived nearby.

  “We need to stay alert,” he said once everyone had calmed down. Tippy and Tst Tst looked dazed and drowsy beside him.

  Ralston peered into one of the tunnels leading out of the burrow. The lantern high above his head lighted their dismal paths ahead. “There’re too many ways branching out. Which one should we take?”

  “One away from that fire.”

  Tst Tst and Tippy sobbed loudly. Jules felt like biting his tongue but he, himself, had to gulp down a sob. Were his mother and the Laceworks in there? He never liked Holden, but still, he felt bad for him. And what about Saul, and Miranda? He blinked at the shaft they’d just dropped from. Smoke drifted down in puffs from that shaft, as well as from some of the other tunnels next to it. He hoped the air was breathable. What if there were toxic fumes underground?

  He brought a lantern close to the page in his grandpa’s journal and studied the address and directions to Mosche Falstaff’s home. “Mr. Mosche’s home isn’t too far from here—in fact, it’s located by the river, about a mile from Saul’s. We can go to Mosche’s and ask him for help.”

  “What if he’s not there?” Ralston said.

  “Hand me the pillowcase. We need a compass.”

  Ralston took the journal and traced the route in the tiny map below the address with his finger. “But why don’t we just look for Dad?”

  Jules said, “Dad could be anywhere along the River front.”

  Bitha said, “But what about Mom? She might return to the house, and find us missing. Then what? We didn’t even leave her a note.”

  “And let the Scorpents know where we are if they returned?” Jules sat on his haunches and wrapped his fingers around his temple.

  “Do you think Mom was in the house with Mrs. L and Holden?” Ralston’s voice shook.

  Jules dared not think.

  Tst Tst said, “And Fiesty? You think he’s okay?”

  Fiesty had flown up to the trees. Had he been caught in the fire? Would they never see him again?

  18 - LOST

  FINALLY, THEY OPTED for the tunnel directly opposite the one they’d dropped down. It should lead them farthest from the burning redwood, Jules explained.

  Also the path up the tunnel ran gradual, and they could almost walk up the incline without having to grope up on hands and knees. Some sections were high enough to stand on; others had caved in and only allowed a crawl space. When they reached a large chamber they were all ready to catch their breaths.

  “There are some rusty rungs that lead up.” Ralston pointed to what could have been iron rungs spaced like a ladder up one side of the wall into a gaping hole above.

  Jules said, “Maybe someone used this for a home or a secret path.” But where to? And who were they? Handoveran spies? Scorpents?

  Jules peered at the lowest rung. It was still a ways above and the little girls would not be able to climb, as some rungs appeared missing between the spaces. Were these just gopher tunnels or something else altogether?

  They took a swig from their water pouches and were about to set off except that a glow f
rom another shaft next to the one they had emerged from alerted Jules.

  “Shh!” he motioned for the others to stay behind him. Gophers didn’t carry lamps.

  After some seconds the glow brightened. Jules glanced from one tunnel opening to another. Which one should they rush into to escape from whatever was heading their way? A part of him was curious to see who could be traveling in these parts with lamps. But if he stayed behind and it was an enemy, would he endanger his siblings? He shoved Tippy behind him and determined the direction to take. Hopefully toward the river. Hurry!

  “Jules!” a whisper echoed in the chamber.

  Jules swiveled toward the speaker.

  It was a gopher, all right! With his back to the tunnel he’d edged out from, Holden stood, a crude jar lantern in hand and with a stunned face. Even in the dim light it was obvious Holden had bruises and cuts on his arms and face.

  “Who pummeled you?” Jules rushed toward his neighbor, eyes wide.

  “We must get away.” Holden was still panting. His green cloak was in shreds.

  “What happened? Did you see my mom?”

  “Your mom?” Holden shook his head, eyes dazed. “But my mom….” He hung his head and slumped to the ground.

  They consoled Holden as best they could and Jules briefed him on their plight, with Ralston and Tst Tst breaking in the story to remind him of details. Bitha was too busy keeping Tippy awake.

  Holden said, “It started last night. My mother was reading during dinner. Someone knocked at our door. It was Miranda. Said we must hide and she didn’t have time to explain. So we grabbed some things and told her we wanted to warn you, except Miranda said she’d go instead. Did she get to you? Warn you?”

  “Miranda? Last night? No, no.”

  Holden took a deep breath. “That’s odd. She told us to wait for her by the elm tree next to the Bradley home. And no matter what not to go home. But then—”

  Holden rubbed his eyes.

  “What?” Jules said.

  “It happened so quickly. We were running past the arbor and one minute my mom was next to me, then a dark shadow swooped by and she—she vanished.”

  “Did you ask the Bradleys for help?”

  “They weren’t there. Not the Oakleys, Nor the Primroses. No one was in.”

  “Did you see Miranda again after that?” Jules said.

  Holden shook his head. “I waited all night at the Bradleys’ front steps and took their lantern.” He held out the jar lamp which had a crude hook upon its cover. Two fireflies fluttered within the jar and their lighted back twinkled on and off.

  Holden said, “I must have dozed off after. Then earlier this afternoon I went home, thought I could scrounge up some food, then head over to you, except I saw something enter my home. A swirl of smoke, and when it turned, I saw its red eyes. I ran and hid behind a boulder, but there was a rabbit or gopher hole and I fell in. I can’t say I wasn’t glad.”

  “Maybe Miranda somehow knew your house was going to be lightning struck,” Jules said.

  “But how? Like she has some hidden powers?”

  Ralston said, “Maybe she is the hidden power.” Both Jules and Holden shot him a glare.

  Jules said, “It’s a good thing you fell into the hole.”

  “Except I can’t find my way out. It’s useless. And I don’t know what happened to my mom.” He brushed his palm over his eyes.

  Jules handed Holden a water pouch and the small morsel of food they’d packed in their pillowcases. “We figured on a system to get out. We’re trying to always head east.”

  “Toward the river? Brooke Beginning?” Holden said between mouthfuls. “How’d you know where east is?”

  Ralston shoved a small object toward Holden’s chin. It was a tiny bowl of water with a thin piece of metal rod floating on the surface. “I made a compass with our dish and Bitha’s hair pin.”

  Holden’s eyes widened as he looked at the homemade compass.

  Ralston said, “I magnetized the pin.”

  Holden nodded slowly with respect. “But why Brooke Beginning?”

  “A Keeper lives near it.”

  “A Keeper? Then I’m not going with you.”

  “You have something against Keepers?”

  Holden locked eyes with Jules, then Ralston.

  “It’s just that Miranda told us that night that they’re after Keepers—”

  Jules said, “And why’d she say that to you? It’s not like you’re a Keeper family.”

  “Why so touchy? It’s just that, do we want to find a Keeper if Gehzurolle’s after them?”

  “Let’s go, Rals. Bitha, get Tippy.” Jules turned away.

  “Hey, you can’t leave me here.” Holden yanked Jules’s cloak. “I’m not prejudiced or anything—and why should that bother you?”

  “We’re going to Mosche’s. He’s our best bet to get answers. I have no idea where my mom is. Or my dad. Or what really happened to Gramps.”

  Holden held on to Jules’s cloak. “We should go to Saul’s. He knows stuff. Besides, Miranda might be there. They could be in danger, too.”

  Jules stared at Holden.

  Holden said, “If you want to see a Keeper, I think Saul’s a Keeper.”

  “Miranda told you this?”

  “You jealous?”

  “Of a pea?” Jules gathered some of their leftovers, shoved them into a pillowcase and passed it to Ralston. “Let’s try Saul, then. And if he’s not there we’ll get to Mosche’s.”

  19 - NO HIDING

  AWAY FROM THE blazing redwood Whisperer scoured the grounds for any signs of movement. The children had hidden behind that annoying boulder. Had the fire singed them to a crisp? He sniffed the air but didn’t detect burned skin or singed hair. Whirling down like a tornado he landed beside the boulder and sniffed at a burnt rag amidst the ashen twigs.

  Whose was this? A hole beneath that boulder? Sneaky. Smoke still seeped out of the hole in gray wisps of spiral threads.

  Whisperer floated about by the gopher tunnel and thought he heard steps far in the depth of the earth. One of the tunnels ran to the river, he was sure.

  A plan popped into his mind. Keeper children with his prize. Keeper children who couldn’t swim. Perfect.

  20 - TUNNEL SYNDROME

  JULES AND HIS company charged on deeper and deeper from one passageway to another with the meager light from their lanterns, the Blazes’ dragonfly ones casting sparkles like cut diamonds on the rough tunnel walls, while Holden’s firefly lamp glowed on and off yellow and muted.

  Jules told Holden about the rungs. “My Grandpa said the older homes that belonged to Keepers have tunnels to help Keepers escape if needed.

  Maybe this was one of them.”

  “Jules, look!” Bitha traced her fingers against the wall. “Why’s this all wet?”

  “We must be close to the Brooke,” Jules said. The air smelled damp. Mold. Mildew maybe. He strode over to her and fingered the droplets. “Water’s seeping.”

  The wall on the entire left side ran moist into one of the tunnels ahead. Heading south the mouth of the tunnel coursed in the same direction as the river.

  Ralston said, “Maybe the wall acts as a dam.”

  Bitha said, “The wall won’t collapse, will it?”

  Jules peered into the darkness even as his mind considered the moisture on the wall. He gestured to them to follow. “Let’s hurry.”

  Ralston said, “You think Fiesty escaped the fire?”

  “He must have sensed something since he wanted us to untie his ribbon.”

  Keeping a brisk pace, some hummed a ditty whilst others concentrated on their footwork.

  If Saul was a Keeper he’d sure kept the secret well. It also meant Miranda was his heir since her mother was gone. But would Saul share his Book to help him find his mother? And Mrs. L? But what if he was too late? And what about that flash in the sky, or the earth shivering right after?

  Jules clutched at his cloak pocket and fingered the stone
s in the pouch. Worse come to worse they could pay for information. His Grandpa would have wanted that.

  Suddenly, without warning, the ground quaked as if angry. The rolling and vibration intensified; it became more violent, and they struggled to keep their balance, unable to walk.

  Just when they thought the shaking couldn’t grow worse, a growling noise echoed about them and the girls screamed even more.

  “Lions don’t live in forests—do they?” Tst Tst’s shrill voice muted due to the rumblings.

  “Uh oh!” Jules and Holden said simultaneously.

  “Quick,” Jules shouted. “We need to—run—flash flood!”

  “Flood...?” someone said.

  “Behind us!” Holden dashed forward, the dragonfly lantern swinging, its hinges creaking in the mad rush.

  Jules gestured. “Up, this way!”

  He grabbed Tippy’s and Tst Tst’s hands, one on each side. He whisked them away with giant steps, their feet barely grazing the ground. He dragged them on, never looking back. He ran to higher ground up the chosen tunnel hoping those behind kept his pace. Holden pushed the small of Tst Tst’s back, and she half stumbled to keep up with Jules.

  Ralston, carrying most of what was left of the supplies in one hand and Holden’s firefly lamp in the other, sprinted faster than he’d ever done.

  Only Bitha, last in tow, trailed farther and farther behind as the roar of the torrent growled, growing louder and closer. She tripped and groped in the dim pathway, the light of the lantern in front always rounding another corner and another as she struggled up the incline.

  The dim glow from Ralston’s firefly lamp was barely enough to keep her from avoiding the stumps and bumps that littered their path. She tripped, slipped, and almost fell on her face a few times.

  Ralston, some twenty steps ahead of her, turned and saw Bitha faltering. His hands holding the hook of the firefly jar lamp shook even more when the rumbling of the roiling water grew. He wanted to shout to Jules but instinctively knew no one could hear him above the roar. He wanted to hasten his pace, wanted to follow the others, but he kept looking over his shoulder at Bitha.

  “Bitha!” He breathed out his pant.

  In minutes the torrent would engulf her. Ralston’s eyes darted here and there searching for something. Already he couldn’t see the flicker of the dragonfly lanterns ahead—Holden had rounded some bend ahead in one of the tunnels that climbed up. But which one?

  The light from Ralston’s firefly jar glowed dim and the rumbling from the roiling water roared loud, like angry lions. That was when he glanced up and saw something on the ceiling, a few steps away: what looked like a pocket as the ceiling bulged just in that section. And iron rungs similar to the ones before.

  Ralston flung the sack in his grasp upon the ledge, a protruding bit of stone. He scrambled up the jutting precipice using the iron rungs, one hand still clutching the lighted jar. But his foot slipped and the jar fell. He wanted to jump back down to rescue the fireflies in the cracked jar, but it was too late.

  21 - TRAPPED

  BEHIND THE RUNNING Bitha, a roll of white foam gained speed. Ralston’s panting came in short wheezing spurts. He clutched his chest. Something screamed in his ears. He wobbled as if about to faint. He covered his face with his hands, squeezed his lids tight.

  But then he looked down at Bitha, saw her struggling.

  “Grab my hands!” Ralston shouted above the grumble that surrounded them. He could barely make out her form with the glimmer from the lighted jar quivering on the ground below his niche.

  Bitha glanced up. Ralston reached his hands out and waved at her frantically. He leaned over more, grabbed both her wrists, and jerked her up the precipice, then into the pocket, the cleft in the stone. Below, the torrent growled into the tunnel and flooded the channel up to the ceiling. Except for that tiny alcove, the cleft in the stony ceiling, the water filled the entire passageway and rushed toward the tunnels ahead.

  It took several long minutes before the current ran its course and the water subsided. Not knowing if Jules, or any of the others, had escaped the flash flood, Bitha and Ralston waited in darkness, huddled and damp from the sprays of the passing waters.

  Ralston rummaged in his cloak. “I have a light stick.”

  Several minutes and after much rustling of his cloak, a tiny, and almost ineffective, glow came from a wand in his hand

  “I didn’t make a very good one.” Ralston’s eyes searched the ground for the firefly jar but it was gone, borne away by the current.

  “Good-bye, firefly,” Ralston murmured. And Bitha held his hand.

  When the water subsided, they clambered down the ledge. Careful not to slip on the sloppy mud, they groped and trudged up a tunnel that they hoped would lead to higher ground. Eventually, a glow grew brighter ahead.

  Jules and Holden!

  Jules slapped Ralston’s shoulder when they met. “You have to stop trying to get yourself killed.”

  “You have to see what Bitha and I found.”

  Ralston led them to the alcove and shone the lantern on the rough ceiling.

  Jules said, “A strange marking.”

  He climbed up using the rungs, the rusty metal smell rising to his nose. He fingered the circular hole with seven sharp prongs jutting out, each prong no wider than Tippy’s pinky, and all the prongs laid out in a circle within the shallow circular hole.

  “Nothing happens even when I tug at these. Strange. But we have to hurry. The later we get help the slimmer our chances of finding Mom and Mrs. L.”

  They went back into the tunnel and continued east. When they reached an opening, they saw that it was light outside.

  “We walked all night?” Tst Tst gave a deep sigh and yawned. “No wonder I’m so pooped!” She hopped up and down on one foot and somersaulted. “Maybe Fiesty’s here.”

  Bitha shot Tst Tst a frown. “I can’t walk another step.”

  “We can’t stop till we get to Saul’s. It’s not safe here.” Jules hoisted Holden up out of the shaft, grabbed a thin root protruding into the tunnel and yanked himself after Holden. The roar from the nearby river filled the air. Fewer trees grew here and the sky seemed to expand into a vastness he never thought possible. So this was where Miranda lived. She’d always visited them and for some reason Saul never wanted them near his home. He studied the branches. “Stick close together.”

  “Look, Tippy’s asleep.” Bitha pointed to the huddled form by her feet.

  Jules studied his grandpa’s contact journal and studied the direction for Saul’s. Every conifer looked alike. How would they find Saul?

  “I can get us there,” Holden said.

  Jules threw him a murderous glare. “You’ve been there?”

  “Miranda showed me.”

  But before Jules could argue more a giant net plopped down upon them. Trapped, the net reduced them to a tangle of arms and legs. Someone had heard them.

  “What’s happening?” Tst Tst shrieked.

  Jules said, “We’re trapped.” Obviously.

  “What’s that?” came one of the girl’s confused mumbled cry.

  Jules felt like kicking himself for talking loudly.

  As they struggled the net tightened even more like a noose strangling a writhing neck.

  “Stop fidgeting.” Jules whispered. “Maybe one of us triggered the trap. If no one comes along we can try to cut our way out.” He fingered Tippy’s sardius in his pocket. Its sharp edges might cut through the net’s twines. The mirror shard buried deep in a pocket could come in handy if he could get to it. Thank goodness he’d taken it.

  But then shadows loomed from behind the nearest conifer and a dozen figures emerged and advanced toward them at a hasty pace. The Elfie children could have sworn they were blazing bushes of fire, so impressive was their camouflage. Some of the flaming figures checked the net, tightened the bundle of Elfies further and, circling them, heaved the strategic lines attached to the net upon their shoulders. Numerous steps later the a
ggressors dumped them in front of a large oak with a void at the bottom, a natural cave, where its twisted roots converged and looped upward. A glow flickered from within.

  “Ouch! Ouch!” Bitha cried.

  “Stop that!”

  “Help!” The protests continued.

  At the doorway of the opening, silhouetted against the backlight, an imposing form stood with arms akimbo. For a long while the trapped Elfies stared at the apparition. Then Jules recognized the figure and gasped.

  “Why are you doing this?” Jules said when he could gather his wits.

  “Mr. Saul!” Ralston said.

  “Have you been tailing us? Where’s my mother?” Jules struggled to upright himself, wiping dirt off his cloak.

  “Where is Miranda?” Saul asked.

  “She probably found out you were a crook and tried to save herself.” Jules bit his lower lip and regretted his words.

  “She ran away from me, and she was going to look for you.”

  “To tell us to get away from you, no doubt.” Again Jules wanted to

  kick himself.

  “Boy, you have no idea what or who you are up against.”

  “Then maybe someone should start spilling the beans.” Jules felt Ralston behind him kick his ankle, and he was sure Tst Tst had pinched his arm.

  But his words had a strange effect on Saul, who slumped on to the ground and wrapped his hands over his head. Next to Saul, five camouflaged figures with masked faces whispered to one another.

  22- DECEIVED

  SAUL LOOKED AT Jules. “If I cut you loose will you promise not to run? Say you won’t run away! Say it. There’s something you need to know.”

  “We won’t run away,” Jules said.

  The strange figures cut the children loose and the girls cowered behind Jules and Ralston.

  “Come in.” Saul moved away from the lighted doorway under the oak and gestured for them to step across the threshold. “We don’t have time to lose.”

  “How do we know you don’t have a Scorpent in there waiting to pounce on us?” Jules eyed one by one the strange camouflaged figures.

  “Because I don’t need Scorpents if I wanted you dead. Don’t waste my time.”

  The room under the oak measured about ten steps by ten steps, with only a table at one end and four or five chairs arranged in a circle in the middle. But when they approached the table Jules noticed an open book upon the table. Was this an Ancient Book? Was Saul really a Keeper? As Holden said?

  Saul sighed. “I meant to tell your mother. Warn her. But I was too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  The furrows above Saul’s white brows deepened and his eyes glowed with moisture. “Your mother’s in Handover.”

  “What? Was she kidnapped?”

  Saul shrugged. “Word has it she’s looking for your grandparents.”

  “So, they’re not … dead?”

  “But they could be in grave danger, at least that’s what I’d heard.”

  “Who from?”

  “Gehzurolle’s forces? Handoverans?”

  Jules stepped forward and leaned in toward Saul. Would his mother leave them just like that? Without a note, nothing?

  Saul said, “I overheard someone, something. I fear Miranda’s in grave danger. I can’t afford to lose her. She doesn’t realize what she’s dealing with.”

  “What do you mean?” Jules stepped toward the old man. Was Saul going to confess that Miranda was somehow hooked up with evil as Holden suggested?

  “I had suspected it for awhile but refused to acknowledge the signs.

  She’s been deceived. My precious Miranda’s been deceived.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Holden stepped forward. “She really was the one who tricked us? She caused my mother to be abducted. But why?”

  “They told her Chrystle, her mother, was still alive, living in Handover and that if she helped them gather the Keepers they would take her to Handover to get Chrystle. So possibly Erin ran away from her, too.”

  Was that why Miranda knew of the potato soup? Because she’d been there? “Where is Miranda now?”

  Saul shook his head. “She went with them. I’m only guessing.”

  “Who’s ‘them’? Scorpents?”

  “Enemies. Miranda invited them—Scorpents, Gehzurolle’s agents— into our land. That explains the Scorpent sightings of late. For centuries they kept away, had to keep away, since none from a Keeper family had ever invited them over. None, till Miranda.” The old man sighed and slid onto a chair.

  Jules stared at the old man’s bald head and regretted his feelings of hatred toward Saul. “I have an idea. But first some answers. What’s this place? Your home?” He gestured about him.

  Saul looked up. “I needed a secret place away from prying neighbors so no one would suspect I’m a Keeper.”

  “Not even my Grandpa?”

  “Leroy found out, and that’s why we had that tiff. He felt cheated I knew about him but I kept my Keeperhood a secret. Well, I had to. What with Chrystle gone. I couldn’t risk Miranda.”

  “I have my grandpa’s contact journal and there’s an address for a Mosche Falstaff.” Jules told Saul his thoughts on Mosche. Jules felt hopeful.

  Saul shook his head. “For centuries our people have sought Falstaff’s descendants, but none has ever succeeded.”

  23 - BROOKE BEGINNING

  JULES TAPPED HIS forehead as his eyes scoured Saul’s dim den.

  He refused to believe he’d reached a dead end. If he didn’t find Mosche Falstaff, then what?

  “There must be a way we can locate him. If we find this Falstaff, we’d have located another Keeper. That’s a big plus for our Kingdom.”

  “‘If’, and that’s a huge ‘if.’ Besides, we’d only have four Keepers accounted for. The fifth Keeper, some say, would never be found. He and his family were killed by Gehzurolle.”

  “And his Book?”

  “Possibly lost forever. Maybe Gehzurolle has it. Or destroyed it. After all, without its Keeper, the Book is useless to Gehzurolle.”

  “Maybe the fifth Keeper left for Handover, too.”

  Saul shrugged. “The Ancients said Falstaff left for Handover afraid of the stigma his name had brought his family.”

  “But what about this address? Says here, Mosche Falstaff—by the River. See the map?”

  Saul leaned over and peered at Leroy’s journal. “That must be an old address. Or a fake one to throw off enemies. Or could be any number of so-called ‘Rivers.’”

  “Maybe my grandparents know where Mosche lives. Why else would Gramps have wanted to get to Handover? He must have guessed a storm was coming. Yet, he went. He must have had strong reasons to go despite the storm.”

  “I was never convinced your grandpa perished in that storm.”

  Jules’s eyes lit up. “Before he left, Grandpa said he wanted to check on our family’s secret but I don’t know how that’s related to Mosche.”

  “Did he say what the secret was?”

  Jules avoided Saul’s eyes and glumly shook his head.

  “So this Mosche knows something about your family. Maybe your mother has gone to him, too.”

  Jules nodded. “I still can’t believe she’d leave us like that.”

  “She must have had no choice. Things must have happened in a hurry.”

  Jules mentioned about the potato soup pot.

  “We had potato soup when Miranda came,” Holden said. “Maybe that wasn’t a message from your mom. Maybe someone wanted to trick you.”

  Ralston said, “To trick us so we’d go to Holden’s place before the lightning struck?”

  Saul said, “That’s irrelevant at this point. Get Mosche’s Book to me so we can use it together with mine to find your mother. The Books must always work with another in synergy.”

  “But why can’t you come with us?”

  “I can’t go to Handover in case Miranda returns, you understand, but I can help you cro
ss the big river.”

  Also known as Brooke Beginning, Jules had heard tales of it. Tales of Elfies who’d lost their lives braving the fickle waters of the Brooke that sometimes swelled and swallowed up Elfie explorers even in the calmest of days. With the recent storms and lightning episodes these recent days hardly qualified as placid. Let alone safe.

  “How will I get across? I don’t even have a map of Handover.”

  “You saw my helpers? They’re masters of disguises, and are from Handover. Half-breeds. They know ways and people there.”

  Jules looked uncomfortably at one of the guards at the door. The mask didn’t allow anyone to see his face and having never even met a half-breed before he was curious. “I didn’t know half-breeds were real.”

  “The real term is ‘Hanfies.’ It means half Handoveran, half Elfie. Just like how Elfie means half Elf, half fairy.” Saul beckoned to the guard, who stepped into the lighted center. “Take off your mask.”

  Except for his high forehead, no one could have suspected the guard had Handover genes. And so easily the forehead could be hidden under a heavy fringe of hair, or a hat.

  Saul dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. “I have ideas where Mosche could be. But if Leroy isn’t there, don’t panic. Tell Mosche he must help Miranda. She’s the grandchild of a Keeper and my sole heir. He’d understand the irreversible danger our Land is in if she’s taken. Once we get her back we can convince her of her deception. She’s still young, and the young always make mistakes. Make sure Mosche brings his Book to me. The more Books we collect the easier it’d be to find your mother.”

  “Provided she’s not with Mosche,” Jules said.

  “Naturally. I am just assuming the worst scenario.”

  24 - HIDDEN BRIDGE

  JULES AND HIS companions slept in Saul’s room for the night with the promise that Saul would take them to a hidden bridge that spanned Brooke Beginning the next morning. He seemed to know of things about the Brooke Jules couldn’t fathom.

  They surmised the bridge must be how the gangly stick insects walked across the river and wreaked havoc in some parts of Reign. Where these carnivorous insects now resided the Elfies could not determine. They appeared and disappeared like ghosts, and some were called ghost insects.

  The children waited for Fiesty but he didn’t appear. Fiesty’s presence might give them leverage if they met more bird attacks. Only Jules and Holden would go across the bridge to look for Mosche. They hoped Leroy would be with Mosche, and if not, Mosche might know where Erin, or maybe even Jessie Lacework, might be, having concluded that the two lady Keepers, if imprisoned, must be in the same place. Saul felt certain Scorpents must have abducted Jessie. He regretted that Miranda might have played a part in Jessie’s capture.

  Before Jules and Holden left, Tippy tugged at the edge of Jules’s cloak.

  “I can help, too.” She brought the sardius from her cloak and pressed it in Jules’s palm. “You can use it to pay.”

  Jules stroked the top of her shiny hair and stared at the red stone in his palm. “I have plenty in my pouch. But thanks.”

  Saul stalked over and stared at the stone in Jules’s outstretched palm.

  “Where did you get that?” He took it from Jules and examined it, turning it this way and that, in the light of the dragonfly lantern. Without another word, Saul shuffled over to the table with the big Book and flipped the pages furiously.

  “What’s the matter?” Jules said. “It’s just a sardius. We have plenty in our backyard. Grandpa and I used to collect them and other gems, too.”

  Jules patted about his cloak, and brought out the pouch filled with gems. “Here!” He poured out the contents of the pouch onto the table next to Saul’s tome. Some stones fell off the table and clattered to the wooden floor.

  “Leroy found all these?” Saul bent and picked up the fallen stones and arranged them on the table with the rest.

  “Mostly. But I found some, too.”

  Saul nodded. “May I keep this one?” He pocketed Tippy’s sardius.

  Tippy shrieked. “No!”

  “I’m sorry she’s possessive. She only has one.” But even as Jules offered Tippy others from his pouch she continued to wail, and Saul returned it to her.

  Jules said, “Why are you interested in that one?”

  “No particular reason except that I needed a sardius to complete my collection. As you know, I already have quite a display of aquamarines.”

  25 - INCANTATIONS

  UP ON THE bough of a giant cypress a pair of eyes that never blinked stalked them. The pursuer peered from between the leaves, his body a thick black smoke that obscured him from the most observant creatures. His master bestowed this cloak upon him so he could go about his business in Reign without detection.

  He floated like the clouds with only a dark, dense fog trailing him; his voice, the whisperings of the wind.

  Most Elfies had forgotten about Whisperer, but his evil marred their lives often enough. Even if they were unaware of it, or unwilling to acknowledge his presence.

  That evening Whisperer fixed his gaze from tree to lofty tree and spoke incantations beneath his breath that were too foul to repeat. Each tree scarred by his utterance, quaked and quivered as if struck by lightning. He then pursed his sunken, twisted lips beneath the dark smoke and launched his phrases, like arrows, at the darkening sky. The words shot out and pierced the clouds that hung low. The sky roared and growled in agony at his command.

  More and more thunderous crashes sounded as lightning struck tree after tree. The ground vibrated and rattled as though giants were stomping everywhere. Several of the conifers blasted into flames as the bolts shot down upon the forest in greater and greater fury. The affected trees instantly burst into flames and burned black before toppling with deafening booms. The fire swiftly consumed entire trees.

  Whisperer was furious.

  26 - THE GOING GETS TOUGH

  MANY STREAMS ORIGINATED from Brooke Beginning.

  Some of these rivulets were unlabelled in most of Reign’s maps although ancient inhabitants marked them with curious names like Lightning Rapids, Mammoth Burn, The Drowning Run, and Serpentine Crick.

  But the present watercourse Jules, Holden, and Saul came to was the main river, the one that plagued Jules’s dreams, and supposedly had taken the life of his grandparents. Brooke Beginning. Now Jules and Holden had to cross it.

  Saul said, “Few know of this bridge, so let’s keep it that way.”

  Jules wondered if he should have left the girls behind with Ralston at Saul’s hide-out. But taking them to Handover could spell trouble, maybe even death, if they didn’t find Mosche, or if enemy Handoverans found them. Whether the dragonfly lanterns would protect them totally no one knew since Handoverans were not Scorpents.

  “Brooke Beginning,” Holden focused his gaze on Jules, “and most of these tributaries have dark and mysterious tales linked to them.”

  Holden pointed to the white, foamy water venting its furor against tumbled logs and jutting boulders as it bubbled and gurgled furiously.

  “Must we discuss this now?”Jules said.

  “It makes little difference,” Holden said, “if we speak or not. The fact remains: the water of the Brooke is tainted.”

  “But don’t all these watercourses feed the lakes that are the very sources for our water supplies? How could it possibly be tainted?” Jules tried to gauge how far the other embankment was.

  Some parts of the Brooke spanned wide and the other side could not even be glimpsed, but this portion of the river seemed narrower than what Jules imagined.

  Saul gripped Jules’s arm, “Don’t trust the Handoverans. They tell many lies. I wouldn’t put it past them to be in cahoots with Gehzurolle. They’d certainly want us doomed. But still you’d need to ask around. Someone’s bound to have heard of a couple of Elfies living or traveling in Handover. They’re a rare breed, and tongues wag. Remember, the lives of the mothers and your beloved grandparents r
est in your hands.”

  “And Miranda, too,” Holden said.

  Saul cast him a look. “Naturally.”

  “And if she doesn’t want to return?”

  “Tell her I have news of her mother. That would motivate her to return. Now go. The clouds are moving rapidly. You need to hurry.”

  And just like that Saul scurried into the undergrowth and disappeared. Only Jules and Holden remained on the bank eyeing the toppled trunk that spanned the narrowest but, probably, deepest part of Brooke Beginning.

  Holden said, “Maybe we should have agreed to have those Hanfies with us. At least they know the terrain.”

  “But you were so adamant they can’t be trusted.” Jules tugged at a branch and edged himself up slowly. He planted his feet on the log, but then slipped back down. “We need to secure the ropes here to help us get up.”

  They tied knots on the rope and used these as footholds to get up. Once on top they noticed branches ran at intervals along the span of the burnt trunk.

  Jules said, “We’ll study Saul’s map once we get to the other side.”

  “If we get to the other side. How does Saul imagine we can get across those protrusions?”

  Jules peered at the long stretch they must cross and consoled himself that the redwood at least had a thick trunk and the path across ran broad. Some sections held more branches and twigs poking out than others. Unless he wanted to suffer the fates of his grandparents, he’d have to tread extra careful, he reminded himself. Still, this must be safer than the boat Grandpa took. Saul must not have thought Grandma could climb such a structure.

  “I don’t like those clouds.” Jules pointed upstream.

  Jules and Holden wove in and out of the protrusions across the trunk, taking each step in deliberation, afraid to dislodge the fragile sections of bark from the damaged and precariously poised tree. They moved at a crawling pace. A careless moment could cause a slip and a fall into the swift waters, especially since they had to cling to twigs and tread close to the edge of one side in some sections because some protruding branches smelled singed.

  The briskly rushing waters gushed against the underside of the trunk. Frosty splashes pierced through their cloaks like cold needles. They belabored protruding offshoots and kept glancing at the darkening sky when the first roll of thunder growled.

  As Jules placed one foot before the other, Holden muttered strange words that sounded like mumbling. His utterances were barely audible. Jules made a mental note to ask for an explanation. Sounds like something his grandma would say. Was it like his grandpa’s verse: Perfect love casts out fear?

  Jules grabbed at burnt bark to steady himself as a strong wind rushed against him. The roar of the water below made his fear of heights small in comparison.

  “What’s that?” Holden asked.

  Jules bent on to his knees and peered into the opening in the bark. With sandaled feet he punched at the frayed fragments of wood around the aperture and widened it so he could slide inside if needed. He placed his face near the hole and shone light into it.

  “This trunk looks completely hollowed out. Lightning must have bored a fissure right through.”

  Holden said, “Should we get in there and see if the going’s easier within the trunk?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “You mean the water below?”

  “Anyone can hear the water. I mean that echo inside the trunk—like someone talking?”

  Holden shoved Jules aside and put his face inside the opening. “About two or three of them coming toward us. Should we ambush them?”

  “Let them pass. The tree’s several hundreds of feet long. They won’t even know we’re here. Unless they’re Saul’s Hanfies following us.”

  But when the voices passed right below them, Jules could hardly believe it. He dropped into the cavern of the trunk through the aperture, lantern in hand.

  “Hey? Whatcha you doing?” Holden yelled from the top.

  “Ralston!” Jules held his hand out and stopped his brother in his tracks.

  “Jules!” Tippy said, shrieking.

  “Hide from Jules,” Tst Tst said.

  “Why are you here?” Jules demanded.

  So Bitha and Ralston told Jules their story. Jules had a good mind to make them walk all the way back to the opening they found at the uprooted side of the trunk and return to Saul.

  “Please, no,” Tst Tst said. “We saw a dark cloud, like smoke twirling outside the tree. That’s why we rushed inside the hole in the root—to hide.”

  “You sure it wasn’t a squirrel with a singed tail?” Holden said. “Cause I swear I saw a squirrel following us.”

  Bitha scowled at him. “What we saw had pursed lips blowing, blowing continuously. At the sky.”

  “You should have stayed with Saul.” Jules said. “Some porcupine could have spiked you. You know how dangerous it is in Handover?”

  “Saul said beware of mines,” Holden said.

  Jules touched Ralston’s shoulder. “Where’d you get that lantern?” “Miranda must have left it before she took off.” Ralston said. “It’s not like we’re stealing. It’s ours.”

  “I was hoping she took our lantern to Handover,” Jules said. “She’s an easy target without it. She’s still a Keeper heir.”

  “Look!” Ralston pointed to the aperture Jules dropped in from. “It’s raining.”

  Jules scratched his forehead. “We’re already half-way across. We’ll figure out what to do with you four when we get to the Handover side. I’m not saying you four come along further than that, or anything. It’s too dangerous with Scorpents and Handoverans running around, and we can’t even guess what sorts of wild animals await us.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can hide you somewhere.”

  The trunk passage filled their nostrils with the odors of incinerated wood, which seemed unbearable at first, but staying inside was a drier choice even though puddles started to form where the ceiling leaked with the rain.

  Later, Bitha tugged at Jules’s cloak. “Isn’t it strange Saul never advised Grandpa to get to Handover using this bridge?”

  “Maybe the bridge just happened with the recent storms. Or maybe he thought it was too hard for them with branches sticking out.”

  “It’s gotten pitch dark in here. We’d better stick closer together.” Bitha groped the wall of the trunk with her fingertips, blind to the objects before them. “Rals, I need the lantern.”

  Ralston turned the lantern on and handed it to Bitha’s free hand.

  Outside the rain pummeled the tree trunk with conviction. The Elfies recognized its pattering even as they trudged on. But something else bugged Jules.

  “Rals, do you hear that tapping noise?”

  “I was hoping it was my imagination.” Ralston’s blue eyes grew wider as he searched Jules’s face.

  “I don’t like how the trunk is wobbling.”

  “Let’s get out soon,” Holden said.

  “If,” Tst Tst said, one hand clutching Tippy’s small one, “we hadn’t lost our powers the King bestowed upon us—”

  “We wouldn’t be so annoyingly small!” Jules said, regretfully. At least this tunnel made going faster. He remained quiet the rest of the journey.

  “Hey, daydreaming?” Holden said.

  “With you around, Holden, it’ll have to be a nightmare. What was that you were muttering up there?”

  “Muttering?” Holden avoided Jules’s gaze.

  Suddenly, the trunk gave a violent roll and they lost their footing and fell.

  “See that opening ahead.” Jules said. “Let’s get out and see what’s up.”

  The rain seemed to have petered out, and they could see the Handover side clearly from where they stood. The tree’s apex rested on two boulders. Maybe another half hour and they’d reach the rocky beach.

  “What if we get separated?” Bitha said.

  Tst Tst tugged at Jules’s cloak. “Let’s have a code. Like ‘XYZ.’”

  Jules scowled at
her. “XYZ? What kind of code is that?”

  “Something simple. So if you hear XYZ you know it’s true.”

  Jules sniggered. “I don’t plan for us to get separated, so stop overworking your gray cells.”

  They were parting stubborn sprigs, moving fast as they could hope, when a “whoosh-whoosh” cut their concentration. Initially the noise was imperceptible, but in two seconds Jules knew what it meant. As the noise intensified, it brought with it bursts of wind that roared in giant spurts.

  “Hurry, Ralston, Bitha,” Jules shouted to those behind him, his blonde hair caught in the gale swept to one side. Mustn’t lose my footing, he reminded himself repeatedly, one hand grasping Tippy’s arm.

  Ralston was dodging the branches that whipped back and forth like the head of a mad cobra. Holden and Tst Tst, whom Holden was supposed to care for, were nowhere in sight. Jules hoped they hadn’t slipped into the turbulent Brooke. Were they separated as Tst Tst had feared?

  27 - SEPARATED

  AS THE GALE gathered speed and force, the trunk shivered and trembled even more. Leaves and smaller branches thrust about, assaulting and slamming against the travelers. Jules wondered if the tall tree would soon dislodge and topple into the swelling Brooke. But they were close to the end of their crossing.

  The whirr and whistle of the storm terrorized them as much as the wobbling of the bridge. Jules could hardly walk a step without tottering now. He focused on simply staying up and on the wobbly structure. Sprigs and offshoots tossed and jerked from side to side and battered him relentlessly. It was a feat to just hang on.

  Then they heard it.

  Louder than the fury of the wind, another sound was rushing their way. Jules felt it first. “Another storm’s coming—from downstream.”

  The bridge vibrated even more. The southern tempest gushing in hit the northern wind smack where the toppled trunk lay. It created a pocket of stillness for a few minutes. The air around them quieted down unexpectedly.

  “There’s a lull,” Jules said. “Hurry!”

  Please! Where were Ralston and Bitha? Holden ran past him and leapt to the ground like a flying squirrel with Tst Tst trailing behind him. Jules literally threw Tippy in the air toward the rocky beach and hoped she wouldn’t hit her head. He looked behind, but Bitha and Ralston were gone.

  I have to go back.

  His eye caught Holden on the ground scrambling to free Tippy from a branch she’d landed on. Tst Tst crawled on all fours up the sandy embankment.

  The tree joggled and jolted violently, as though the two winds had settled their duel, and the tree became their sacrifice. The redwood quivered, jerked, and slid backwards into the roiling Brooke with a loud splash.

  Jules stared in horror and he slipped on the trunk as it dislodged from the tangle of twigs and boulders on both banks. Free from spanning the Brooke’s width, the tree was borne by the current. Jules clung to the end of the tree pointing down river, even as it dipped into the roiling waters. He swallowed gallons of river water and sputtered when the tip he clung to rose above the surge. How long can I hang on to this?