The fish disappeared, and the number and intensity of the bubbles increased until the entire pool was roiling like a pot of hot water.
“Have you—or we—ever seen anything like this?” Kyja asked, clutching Marcus’s arm.
“No.” Marcus began planning what kind of magic he might need to defend them. Air to block an attack? A fireball to fight off whatever was coming?
“Look,” Riph Raph said, poking his head out between them.
A shape rose toward the surface of the pool, much larger than the fish. Marcus started forward, ready to attack or defend at the first sign of danger. Kyja’s fingers dug into his arm.
Kyja leaned forward and smiled. “It’s a woman.” She started toward the pool as a figure with flowing, green hair and pale skin came into focus beneath the water, but Marcus tugged her back.
She did look like a woman. As he’d quickly discovered, though, things in Farworld weren’t always as they appeared. The figure rose almost to the surface then stopped. Hair that was either intertwined with, or possibly made of, water plants floated in a nimbus about her face. Her body was wrapped in a flowing, green gown.
His first thought was that she was young, but as the woman’s dark eyes met Marcus’s, he realized that wasn’t the case. There were no wrinkles on her skin and he saw no other physical signs of aging. Yet he sensed in the being a presence so old as to be almost timeless. If she were a tree, her rings would have gone back to before civilization existed.
“She’s not dangerous,” Kyja said, sliding toward the edge of the water.
“No,” Marcus agreed. He didn’t know what the woman was exactly, but he felt no threat from her. Instead, an almost overwhelming impression of peace emanated from her expressionless face as her gaze took in the three of them. He moved to the side of the pool and looked down on the figure.
“Why have you come here?” Although the woman’s mouth was still under water, her voice echoed in the chamber without distortion.
“To free the fire elementals,” Kyja said.
The woman waited, limbs floating with a casual elegance, which, for some reason, reminded Marcus of lily pads.
“We’re trying to open a drift,” Marcus said, “between Earth and Farworld. We have the help of a water elemental, a pair of land elementals, and an air elemental, but we still need fire.”
The woman’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “The Fontasians have chosen to interact with the rest of the world,” she said in a musing tone of voice. “The”—she said something Marcus would never have been able to pronounce, but which he was sure meant land elementals—“have at last decided to do something instead of only documenting events, and the Aerisians have been freed.”
Marcus nodded, although it wasn’t a question.
“The time has come at last. Danger presses from inside and out. Darkness eclipses light. Evil overcomes good.” Her eyes shifted from the ceiling to give Marcus a penetrating stare. “He shall make whole that which was torn asunder. Restore that which was lost. And all shall be as one.”
Marcus recognized the words of the prophecy.
“Or he shall bring chaos,” the woman said. “Pull down that which was built up. Destroy all, so that none may restore it.”
Marcus went cold. He’d heard that there was another version of the prophecy in which he failed. But he’d never heard the words.
Her eyes burned into his soul. “You come to undo that which was done much longer ago than you can imagine,” she said. “Do you understand the risk?”
His voice shook as he said, “I’m not sure.”
The woman’s head bobbed ever so slightly, as if that was the correct answer. “I am one of the four,” she said. “Those for whom time and distance have no meaning. We are they who locked away the elementals at the first breaking. We who swore to protect, and wait. Now the time of breaking has come again. You alone stand to restore that which was torn asunder, or to destroy it once and for all.”
Marcus didn’t know what to say. He had the power to destroy Farworld forever? The Master of the Dark Circle had said that he’d been the one to put the brand on Marcus’s arm. His own father had all but confirmed the truth of the claim. Did that mean he was only some random kid the Master had picked? If so, putting Farworld’s future in his hands would be crazy.
“He doesn’t stand alone,” Kyja said. “I’m here to help him.”
The woman’s eyes moved to Kyja. “Two. That is as it should be.”
“Three,” Riph Raph said, and pushed forward. The woman stared at him, her eyes glittering beneath the dark water, and he eased away from the pool. “I mean, I’m just, you know, kind of tagging along. You can forget I’m here.”
She turned back to look at Marcus at Kyja. “Once you choose to open the gate, there is no turning back. What you do here cannot be undone. Do you still wish to proceed?”
“Yes,” Kyja said, softly.
Marcus's throat felt almost too dry to speak, but he croaked out a “Y-yes.”
Riph Raph nodded.
“Very well. To free those who have been locked away and restore their magic, you must pass through four gates. At each gate you will be . . . evaluated.”
“Like a test?” Marcus asked, thinking about the trials they’d had to pass through in Land Keep.
“Do not think of them as tests,” the woman said. “Think of them as opportunities to learn. If you learn what is required, you may pass to the next gate.”
“And if we fail?” Kyja asked.
“Then you are not the right ones to open the gates,” the woman said. She lifted a hand out of the water. “If you are ready . . .”
Marcus looked at Kyja. It wasn’t fair to get her into something like this with no memory of how hard it had been to gain the help of the other elementals. He was about to ask her if she wanted to wait here, but Kyja took his right hand in her left. Before he could say anything, she reached out and grabbed the woman’s hand.
“It is done,” the woman said, and she pulled them into the water.
28: The First Gate
They were standing at the end of a dimly lit alley. Trash overflowed from dumpsters teeming with flies. The air smelled like raw sewage and exhaust, and somewhere above them, music pounded.
Kneeling on the asphalt, Marcus felt dirty water seep through his robe.
Kyja looked around and wrinkled her nose. “Is this Farworld?”
“No,” a voice squeaked. “It’s not.”
“Riph Raph?” Kyja bent over to look at a sharp-nosed rat. “Is that you?”
“For some reason, he doesn’t travel very well between Farworld and Earth,” Marcus said. “He’s turned into a lizard, a chicken, and a frog.”
Riph Raph wiggled his whiskers as Kyja scooped him in her hands. “Why don’t I ever get turned into something powerful? Like a fire-breathing dragon?”
“No dragons on Earth,” Marcus said. “Although you’d probably make an adorable kitten.”
Kyja petted Riph Raph’s furry head. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“I have no idea,” Marcus said. “It’s not like that woman gave us instructions or anything.”
A faint whimpering came from somewhere nearby. Marcus grabbed a dented trashcan and pulled himself up. “Do you hear that?”
“Yes.” Kyja tilted her head, and the whimpering turned into all-out crying. She handed Riph Raph to Marcus. “It sounds like a baby.”
The two of them started down the alley, Kyja walking, Marcus scooting through the debris.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to a sheet of newspaper that shook and rustled. The crying sound came from beneath it.
Kyja lifted the paper. Lying on the ground, wrapped in a pink blanket, was a baby who couldn’t have been more than a month or two old. Kyja picked up the baby and cradled it her arms. “Ohh,” she cooed, rocking it. “You poor little thing. Who could have done this to you?”
A group of shadows appeared from the open end of the alley, and
Marcus turned to see four men walking toward them. They looked to be anywhere between sixteen and twenty years old—dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and jackets. One of them carried a length of pipe, and Marcus caught a flash of metal under the hoodie of another.
Remembering what he’d learned about deflecting weapons from Divum, Marcus reached for air magic, but found nothing. It was as if his magic had been cut completely off again. He tried to ready a fireball, and the same thing happened.
“Give me the kid,” said the biggest of the four—a muscular man with red hair buzzed short.
“You can’t have him.” Kyja stepped away, clutching the baby to her chest.
The teenager with the pipe swung it back and forth like a pendulum. “Give him the kid. Now.”
“Leave us alone,” Marcus said, clutching the edge of a dumpster to pull himself upright. “We’ll call the police.”
A tall guy with a bald head grabbed Marcus and threw him against the wall.
After that, everything happened fast. Riph Raph jumped out of Marcus’s hand and ran at the men, squeaking, “Nobody messes with my friends!”
“A rat!” the bald man squealed, backing up against the wall.
Kyja broke for the end of the alley, holding the crying baby in her arms. The man with the pipe grabbed her and spun her around. Marcus felt the ground for anything he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed on a chunk of concrete. He picked it up and threw it at the man with the pipe, hitting him square in the back.
The man with red hair darted forward and pulled a knife from under his hoodie. Before anyone could respond, he leaped at Kyja and stabbed her in the stomach.
She looked at the man, in shock, before slumping against the wall. He snatched the baby from her, and the four men raced out of the alley.
“Kyja!” Marcus screamed as a red circle bloomed on the front of her gown and she fell to the ground.
At first Kyja felt nothing at all—a flash of metal and a sense of surprise. The pain came a second later, sharp and tearing. She fell against the wall and watched in shock as the man yanked the baby from her arms. The strength went out of her legs, and wetness spread down the front of her gown.
She heard the boy shout to her. Marcus, she reminded herself woozily. His name is Marcus. She put her hands to her gown, and they came away red. “Why?” she tried to ask, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was a wet clicking sound.
“Do something!” Riph Raph squeaked. “Use magic.”
“I can’t.” Marcus was at her side, taking her hand, talking to her. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll find someone to help you. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop them, but I couldn’t touch air or fire or . . .” His words began to slur together.
Was he having a hard time talking, or was she having a hard time hearing? She looked up. The stars seemed especially bright. Like fairies watching over her. Her head slumped to the side, and she couldn’t see them anymore.
“She’s dying,” Riph Raph said.
“I don’t know what to do,” Marcus cried. “What kind of test is this? Why did you take my—” He stopped yelling, and Kyja felt his hand tighten on hers. “Water,” he said, his voice rising. “I have water magic.”
He leaned over her, whispering something that sounded like a poem All at once, the pain was gone. The weakness was gone too. She sat up and touched the spot where she’d been stabbed. It was completely healed. She stared up at Marcus.
“Are you . . . okay?” Marcus asked.
“Yes,” she said, unable to believe it. One second she’d felt her life draining away, and the next, she’d never felt better. “How did you do that?”
Marcus beamed. “Water is the strongest healing magic. I learned about it from Cascade while waiting for Master Therapass and Tankum.”
“Way to go,” Riph Raph said, pink rat tail swishing trash behind him like a broom.
Kyja tentatively stood up and didn’t feel wobbly at all. She felt good. Strong. “What about the baby? We can’t let them take it.”
“We won’t,” Marcus said.
He seemed so confident and determined. He stared at the brick walls, although there didn’t seem to be anything to see in them. “There,” he said, pointing at a spot a little to her left. “They’re about a block away, heading east on foot.”
Kyja stared from Marcus to the wall. “How can you know that?”
“Water’s good for more than healing,” Marcus said. “Fontasians can see for miles.”
Riph Raph’s whiskers quivered as he crawled up Kyja’s arm. “We’ll never catch them. And even if we do, how are we supposed to get the baby back?”
Kyja petted his gray fur. “We’ll figure that out once we’ve found them. This has to be what we were sent here for. Recusing the baby will prove that we are the right people to save Farworld and Earth.” She reached out to Marcus. “I’ll help you walk.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got this.” Marcus pointed at a puddle of dirty water, and a glittering ice staff rose from it. “Water magic has lots of uses. I’ll bet that’s the test—to show that we know how to use magic that fire elementals can’t.”
He and Kyja walked out of the alley to the street. “What kind of magic do those use?” she asked, pointing to metal carts rolling by in both directions.
“They’re called cars,” Marcus said. “And they use engines, not magic. But don’t even think about it.”
“Cars,” she repeated, eyeing them hungrily. “We have to find those men before they hurt the baby,” she said.
Marcus nodded. “Leave it to me.”
Sprawled in the filthy alley, watching Kyja get stabbed, Marcus had never felt more helpless. All of his years of being picked on, the many times his damaged body had let him down, the weeks he’d spent with no idea whether Kyja was dead or alive, with no way to help her—it all come back in a wave of anger and despair.
He didn’t understand why the other elements were blocked, but now, with water magic surging through him, he’d never felt more powerful. He planned to use every ounce of that power to stop the men who’d stolen the infant. How dare they attack Kyja? How dare they steal an innocent child? Anger throbbed in his temples and made his muscles shake. If the thugs wanted a fight, he’d bring them one.
“The first thing we need to do is slow them down,” he said. He raised his withered arm, and thick, gray fog billowed from the clear sky. “Let’s see them try to find their way through that.” The kidnappers would be the helpless ones, while he was more powerful than ever.
Next they needed transportation, but he could do a lot better than a car. He pointed to a sewer grate. Water streamed up between the metal bars, freezing into shape as it hit the sidewalk. An ice-scaled body with crystal wings formed in front of them.
Riph Raph blinked his beady rat eyes. “Since when can you make a frost pinnois?”
The ice creature wasn’t as big as the real thing, and Marcus probably wouldn’t be able to hold it together for long—especially not if the weather were warm. But on a cold, damp night with only a few blocks to cover, it would work.
Kyja looked at him with wonder in her eyes, and he stuck out his chest a little. “You didn’t say you were such a powerful wizard.”
He shrugged as they climbed onto the miniature pinnois. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Where do you wish me to take you?” the pinnois asked in what sounded like a rather bad French accent.
Marcus pointed in the direction the men were walking, and the pinnois took off.
“Whooooo-weeee,” Kyja whooped as they flew through the foggy night air, zipping above taxis, under stoplights, and around phone poles. Her dark hair blew back from her head, fluttering like a cape. “This is incredible.”
“Please tell me he has a license for this,” Riph Raph said, flattening himself against her palm.
With his water-magic-enhanced vision, Marcus watched the men with the baby walking cautiously through the swirling mist. They seemed to be headed toward a nearby
apartment building, but he would make sure they never got that far. His hand tightened on the ice staff. After years of being bullied, it felt great to have a way to fight back.
In minutes, they landed in front of the building the men were walking toward.
“Stay quiet,” he whispered as they climbed off the pinnois. It melted back into a puddle. “The men will be here any second.”
“Should we try talking to them?” Kyja asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Talking didn’t work.”
Huddled together, the men stepped into the light from the building entrance. The baby had stopped crying, and it seemed to be okay—for now.
Marcus leaned casually against the wall. “Look who it is,” he called, startling the group.
“How did you get here?” asked the man with the infant. His eyes went to the red stain on Kyja’s gown; he was clearly wondering how she was still standing.
“That’s none of your business,” Marcus said. “Give us back the baby, and we won’t hurt you too much.” Kyja glanced at him, and he winked.
The red-haired man clutched the child to his chest. The teen with the pipe stepped forward, brandishing his weapon.
Marcus tapped the end of his ice staff on the ground, and steaming hot water gushed from the end of the man’s pipe.
“Ahh!” he screamed, dropping his weapon as hot water soaked his jeans. Marcus thought it looked comical—like something from a movie.
The man with the baby pulled a knife, but Marcus made it wet and slick in his hand. The handle slipped through his fingers, and the knife fell to the ground.
Clearly spooked, the men backed away. “We don’t want no trouble.”
“Then you shouldn’t have messed with us,” Marcus said.
“Maybe we should—” Kyja began.
But Marcus was already tapping his staff again. The rage he’d felt before thudded in his temples. Bullies like these needed to be taught a lesson. Just because they were strong didn’t mean they were allowed to hurt other people. What they needed was a taste of their own medicine.
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