The Stone Key (The Novel Adventures of Nimrod Vale Book 2)

by Natasha Brown

  That meant I was on my own again. Fine. I’d made it through twelve unpleasant years without any close friends. I didn’t need her or her annoying habit of inviting herself into my personal life. I leaned down and picked up the journal that contained the story I’d just set on my “safe” pile. The title of the story was scrawled in my grandpa’s handwriting across the center of the page: Happy Ever After.

  I didn’t like the thought of going on adventures by myself, but I wasn’t going to find Grandpa from the comfort of my own home. And I wasn’t willing to risk the possibility that he was alive, needing my help. I had to try to find him. If I took a baby step into a world that didn’t seem too dangerous, then maybe I could ease into it.

  It was decided. I would start my search tomorrow. With or without Pepper.

  Crystal Springs

  I was half expecting Pepper to breeze into the library the next day at school and announce that she’d been kidnapped by gypsies, which was why she’d fallen off the face of the earth. No such thing happened.

  While I sat at our usual table, my eyes combed across the room, searching for her lurking form behind bookshelves and desks. I only saw the librarian busy at work at her computer and the usual group of boys playing Dungeons and Dragons.

  This was so unlike Pepper. My mind immediately went to Grandpa’s magic pen. Last time Pepper disappeared, she’d slipped into the story I’d created to help the fictional characters. I thought of the rolltop desk in the attic. Nothing had appeared out of place before I started going through everything yesterday. There was no way I’d missed a note from her. With my mind put at ease on that subject, I thought of the next logical thing.

  She could be sick. There was a nasty stomach virus going around. Maybe that was it. I drummed my fingers on the table and watched the clock count off five minutes before I slung my backpack over my shoulder and stood up. I was sure about one thing—being alone really blew. For the majority of my life, I’d been friendless. Now that I knew what it was like having someone to talk to, to hang out with, it was hard going back to silence. Even though my tablet was loaded with eooks and packed in my bag, I knew what would happen if I even tried to focus on something my mind wasn’t connected to. I’d reread the same section for as long as I stared at the screen.

  I adjusted my jacket’s hood over my head before walking out of the library. With my eyes to the ground, I went straight to the office before the bell rang, announcing the next period. When I entered the secretary looked up at me and asked, “What do you need, hon?”

  I took a step forward. “I was wondering if Pepper—” My mind went blank. I knew she’d told me her last name at some point, but I didn’t have the best memory recall when I needed it.

  While I was lost in my own thoughts, the secretary prompted me. “Yes?”

  “Hathaway!” I blurted out, proud of myself. The woman frowned, appearing to wonder if I was mentally stable. “Sorry, do you know if Pepper—I mean, Temperance—Hathaway, was called in sick today?”

  “Hathaway,” the secretary murmured under her breath while she turned to her computer screen. Her fingers tapped away at the keyboard, then she turned to me and said, “Unexcused absence. Again.”

  The bell rang throughout the building. Moments later, a mass of students milled through the hallways outside of the office. I looked at the clock. There were two more periods before the end of school. I wasn’t sure how I’d make it through without my mind totally checking out, but I didn’t have a choice.

  Without saying anything more to the secretary, I joined the other students in the hall. I let myself be pushed along with the rest of the traveling bodies to my next class. For the next few hours, my eyes remained on the clock, which moved way too slow (think golf championship).

  Out on the street Aunt Holly waited for me in her beat up silver sedan. Maybe it was the expression on my face, but when I climbed into the passenger seat, her regular smile faded and she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  I looked at her. My lips clamped together in a tight line. I knew she cared and was trying to do what Mom would have done, but it just wasn’t the same. Mom could get me to talk—well, I don’t mean open-up-my-soul-all-secrets-told, but she usually got to the bottom of my misery. What I wouldn’t give to have her in the car with me now.

  Aunt Holly made a funny face, resting her finger on her cheek. “Hmm, what would bother a kid your age? School possibly—” She stopped to study my face, then shook her head. “No, that’s not it. Well, the only other things I can think of are friends and girls, and those two overlap for you.”

  My head tilted back against the headrest. “Pepper’s not a girl—I mean, she’s not—”

  “Right,” Aunt Holly said as she put the car in gear and drove off.

  I found it incredibly annoying that she figured out what was bothering me. I folded my arms and glared out the window.

  We went a few blocks before she spoke up again. “Are you mad at me?”

  It took her asking the question for me to realize I wasn’t really upset with her. I was angry at Pepper for ignoring me. She was the one responsible for my mood.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Mm, hm. Well, I’ve got some coffee ready for you in the kitchen. It should help you through your homework today.”

  That wasn’t very subtle. I didn’t care though. Homework could wait. I’d made up my mind. If Pepper didn’t care about me anymore, then I wouldn’t give a second thought about her either. It was time to find the person who’d always been my true best friend: Grandpa.

  We pulled onto the driveway, and I went straight to the kitchen for my steaming mug of coffee. I scavenged for a bag of chips and granola bar, muttered a form of thanks to Aunt Holly and went upstairs.

  It was time to do some reconnaissance. I left my backpack in my room and took my snacks with me up to the attic. With the chip bag in hand, I shoveled fistfuls into my mouth while I looked around the room. I knew from experience that my modern clothing would stand out in a fictional world, especially one that was more like a fairy tale. I didn’t want the embarrassment of walking around looking entirely different from everyone else—not any more than usual, that is.

  My eyes rested on the folded leather uniform I’d worn out of my last book. It was medieval-ish. At least it was better than the jeans and sweatshirt I was wearing now. I wiped my greasy hands off on my pants, then set the chips down. As quickly as I could, I changed into the uniform. The boots that went with it were still too roomy, so I decided to leave my tennis shoes on. Comfort above blisters, that’s what I say.

  The pocketknife that went with me into the last story was clipped onto my waistband. I checked the time on my phone. It was three thirty now, so that meant I had a few hours to poke around to see if I could find a trace of Grandpa before having to come back out for dinner. Easy.

  I made sure to leave my electronics on the desk before I collected the stack of papers I’d read the day before and cradled the golden pen in my other hand. With a firm voice I recited the words I knew by heart, “Ars imitatur vita.”

  Just like the previous times, a brilliant light surrounded me. My hair lifted on end in the flurry of wind, although my eyes remained pinched shut. I’ve never been a thrill seeker. I don’t like wild carnival rides and this ranked up there with the worst of them. My stomach muscles clenched tight and I waited for the excitement to stop.

  Stillness interrupted my travels and the light faded nearly as fast as it had come. This was the part that left me anxious. I had no control over where the portal into (and out of) the book was placed. Not knowing what to expect, I lifted open one eyelid.

  I was standing on a bush-covered hill looking over a lake that spread across at the base of a forest. Water trickled nearby. I could hear it, but wasn’t able to see its source. Birds chirped in what looked like birch trees. Their white trunks reached nearly fifteen feet before pale green tear-shaped leaves spread out from wiry branches. The leaves rustled together, making a soft
hissing noise.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was beautiful here. I couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to visit a place like this, not even me. I also couldn’t imagine Grandpa getting trapped in such a picturesque location, but it was worth investigating.

  Pivoting in place I searched for any sign of human existence and found it at the opposite side of the lake. Some sort of wheel was set at the mouth of the stream that flowed into the basin. It moved so slowly it almost seemed to be sitting still. I’d seen pictures of something similar in an old picture book of nursery rhymes. Mom had explained to me that it was a water wheel—a machine used to move water or to create power.

  I ran down to the water’s edge and noticed signs of a lowering water level. The dry beach area had a line over ten feet back from the still surface. I leaned over to pick up a stone and threw it as far as I could. Ripples traced their way across the lake. I took a few steps toward the water wheel when a shout rang out, “We’ve got movement!”

  At the sound of the man’s voice, I stumbled. I threw my hands out to catch my balance. My eyes scanned the treetops in the direction where the shout had come. The edge of a wooden lookout was visible, and I thought I made out the gleam of metal between the leaves. Of course this would be my luck. I only hoped things would go better than the last time I’d entered a story.

  I heard rustling from the forest. Moments later, two soldiers emerged dressed in red uniforms with iron breastplates and pointed helmets. At first, it appeared they were holding thick spears, but instead of sharpened points at their ends, large metal mallets were affixed at the top. This didn’t make them any less dangerous looking. Getting smacked by one of those would surely ruin my afternoon, or anyone’s.

  The soldier closest to me growled with annoyance, “Aren’t you old enough to know better? No one’s allowed near the water supply. You get your share in town, and if it’s not good enough for you, then leave with the rest of them.”

  My mind raced for a good response. If Pepper were here I wouldn’t have needed to say anything. She would have come up with a quick answer, risking angering the soldier, but giving an answer just the same. I was beginning to regret my choice of coming alone.

  I took a breath and said, “Uh, sorry. I was looking for my grandpa. He gets confused and wanders. His name’s Nimrod—met him?”

  The man shook his head and growled. “No, I haven’t met anyone with a name like that. If I see an old man, I’ll do just what I’m going to do now—send him back to the city where he belongs. Go on, get back onto the road, and let me do my job.” He waved behind him and said to no one in particular, “Children.”

  I thought it was best to listen, so without another word, I rushed past him in the direction he’d motioned. Getting back to the portal later when I was ready to leave might prove tricky. I didn’t want to anger anyone that held such a menacing weapon (a good rule to live by).

  White tree trunks surrounded me as I jogged in search of the road. I slowed when it came in sight. At the top of a low ridge, I rushed down its slope to the crushed gravel road below.

  Now what? I looked to my right and then my left. Which way was the city?

  To my left, I saw a few rooftops peeking through the trees in the distance. I decided that was where I’d start. Before I started off, I leaned down and picked up two rocks and stacked them at the side of the road. As pretty as it was here, I didn’t feel like getting lost when it was time to go home.

  While I moved past the forest, another thatched roof appeared between the foliage. Birds sang to the sky, and for a brief moment, I forgot why I was there alone. A little out of character, I began to feel a twinge of hope. Nothing so overpowering that I’d skip down the road or whistle a happy tune, but the fresh air and the situation I just got myself out of made me light on my feet.

  I passed quite a few farmhouses until I reached a bridge that stretched over what must have been a wide river at some time. As I walked across, I moved close to the rail to look down at the moving water. I’ve seen rough currents with white peaks that would make me grip the protective barrier even tighter, but what passed beneath could only be described as a trickling stream.

  When my feet were back on the gravel road, a stone wall loomed ahead of me. It reached into the treetops and stretched out beyond sight through the forest. I counted five soldiers on either side of the entrance gate. I took a deep breath and did something so strange Pepper would have snorted with laughter if she’d seen it. I smiled at the guards as I walked past. Then, something equally strange happened in response. They completely ignored me. I expected to be yelled at for being on the wrong side of the gate, or for wearing a strange outfit (which I was), but I might as well have been invisible to them.

  Ten feet beyond the wall, the land dipped down into a valley, and at its base was a city. I’ve seen pictures of historic cities in Europe, and this reminded me of just that. This place was regal and vivid, like I’d actually stepped into history.

  Maybe it’s my optimistic personality, but I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything had been too easy and everything was too perfect. I hadn’t been jailed or had my life threatened. With this in the back of my mind, I hurried down the road toward the city.

  Horse-drawn carriages loaded with furniture and belongings fastened down with canvas tarps passed by me. Wooden shops lined the streets side by side, without more than a body-width between them. After passing by a few, I noticed the closed signs hanging in many of their windows.

  I wasn’t sure what was happening around here, but I hadn’t just come through the portal to sight see. A man, wearing a leather apron and sweeping off his front stoop, paused to look at my hiking boots. I glanced up at the sign in his front window: Master Cordwainer. Shoes were displayed just behind the glass. I didn’t know what he thought of my footwear, but it didn’t matter. I took a deep breath and asked my first question. “Hello, I’m looking for my grandpa. Nimrod Vale—that name sound familiar?”

  A woman and child brushed past me, so I stepped off the main street, closer to the shop. The man rested against his broom and his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. “Can’t say that sounds familiar, young man. The record keeper has documented everything that’s happened in Crystal Springs since the beginning, but he’s too busy these days packing up, I imagine. But you could try.”

  “Where can I find the record keeper?” I asked.

  The man pointed to the center of town and a domed stone citadel. It was a long shot, but I figured I might as well go ask since I was already there. I muttered my thanks before continuing downhill.

  The closer I got to the center of the city, I noticed that the construction materials changed from wood to stone. Dry, brittle moss, that must have once been lush and green, clung to stone chutes that traveled across the tops of buildings. Many of these narrow canals led toward the domed citadel, which I could see peering above the rooftops.

  I came to a town square. At its center was a stone sculpture of a woman holding a pitcher who sat in the middle of a large, empty basin. The closer I got, I noticed water stains on the inside of her vessel and along the edge of the circular stone cavity. At one time it must have been a functioning fountain. Pale limestone cobbled away from it, leading toward the domed citadel. Long silken flags lined the way to the stronghold and waved in the breeze. More soldiers like the ones I’d passed at the wall edged the streets leading to my destination.

  I wasn’t alone. Men, women and children stood, holding pots and containers. They seemed to be waiting in a long line. I stopped behind a man who wore a series of jugs over his shoulder fastened by a rope. I leaned in to ask, “What’s going on?”

  The man frowned at me and answered, “This is the water line. Must not be from here.”

  I shook my head and moved past the waiting townspeople. They all kept their eyes on me as I walked by. It gave me the chills being watched so closely, but I tried to remember why I was there—to find Grandpa.

  Be
fore the entrance of the citadel, an enormous basin the size of a football field was partially filled with water. The stone aqueduct system that I’d noticed running through town led to this point. Although, it didn’t appear much water was traveling down its intricate and beautiful channels. Soldiers posted at the front of the line were filling canisters and jugs of water.

  When I’d entered this land, I thought it was pretty, but it was clear it wasn’t without troubles. I realized that since I’d arrived, I hadn’t seen anyone smile or laugh. The people were so solemn it was depressing—even to me.

  I passed the water line and approached the entry doors to the citadel which were opened wide. Just inside hung an enormous painting of the side of a mountain and a breathtaking waterfall. Birds flew in the sky between clouds and waving flags.

  Before I could gawk any longer, a man dressed in a red uniform greeted me with a sour expression. “I think you’re lost young man, the water line’s outside.”

  “Oh, no,” I answered. “I’m looking for the record keeper.”

  “Very well,” the man said, lifting his chin. “If he is available to talk—which he may not be—you would find him in the Hall of Records.”

  I waited for directions. When it was clear they weren’t coming, I asked, “And where is the Hall of Records?”

  The man sneered at me. “Go down the hall and exit into the gardens. At the end of the hedgerow you will find the Hall of Records.” He returned to his post a few feet away and proceeded to ignore me.