One by one, each elemental fed magic into the symbols. Water flowing from Cascade filled the carvings in his fourth of the gate. Rock and soil filled the next. Wind gusted from Divum, and fire erupted from Magma. Lines of blue, brown, silver, and orange pulsed with energy.
The four elements flowed together at the center of the circle, and for a brief second, a glowing key formed there. Marcus reached out, whispering something Kyja couldn’t hear. But before he could touch the key, Magma’s flames flared, and Cascade’s water evaporated.
“Careful,” the Fontasian said. “You’re using too much. Calm your emotions.” Cascade refilled his section of the circle, but his water washed away part of Lanctrus-Darnoc’s soil.
“Watch what you’re doing,” the land elementals said. “Haven’t you studied the proper amount of magic for combining land and water?” They added more soil to replace what they’d lost but ended up extinguishing Magma’s flames.
Divum burst into delighted laughter as the Pyrinth gave a frustrated snarl.
“You think this is funny?” Magma asked.
“Very much so,” Divum said with a grin. “You look like a child who has lost its toy.”
Magma gave a blast of flame, which burned up her oxygen with a whoosh. “Now that’s funny.”
“Keep your balance,” Master Therapass called.
“More fire over there. Not so much air!’ Marcus pointed from one element to another, trying to get the perfect mix. Occasionally the key would appear, wavering, but every time he reached for it, one of the elements snuffed out one of the others.
“Stop blowing out my flames!” Magma roared at Divum.
“Stop washing away our soil,” the land elementals complained to Cascade. Soon all of the elementals were spending more effort on stopping each other’s magic than creating their own.
Was this what had happened when the Dark Circle had attempted to open the gate? The elementals were getting more and more frustrated, channeling greater and greater energy into the gate. Slowly, the whining that had started before began. Those standing outside the circle backed away.
“Stop!” Kyja shouted. The elementals pulled back their magic, and the whining cut off. The circle changed back to white. “We can’t fight each other. Don’t you understand that the reason you were all separated in the first place was to avoid this very thing? I hate to tell you, but none of your magic is powerful enough to do this alone.”
“What are you thinking?” Marcus asked.
Kyja looked from one elemental to the next, trying to figure out a way they could all help one another instead of canceling out others’ magic. She pointed to Lanctrus-Darnoc. “Fill your section of the circle until it reaches the center.”
“But fire—” Magma began.
With a raised hand, Kyja cut him off and watched as the land elementals followed her order. She pointed to Cascade. “Add enough water to make the earth elementals’ soil soft and moldable.”
“This makes sense,” Cascade said. “Much more orderly.”
As soil and water mixed, Kyja looked to Magma. “Can you add enough fire to harden the soil into stone?”
Magma sneered. “I can melt it to a puddle.”
“No!” Kyja said. “That’s exactly what we don’t want. Increase the heat gradually but consistently. Cascade, continue to feed enough water to keep the stone from cracking, but not enough to put out the flames. Lanctrus-Darnoc, keep feeding enough soil to give the stone more mass.”
“The flames aren’t hot enough,” Lanctrus said.
“The stone won’t hold its shape,” Darnoc said, his face furrowed with concentration.
“That’s where you come in,” Kyja said to Divum, who still wore an amused grin. “Fan the flames higher without putting them out.”
Blue, brown, silver, and orange filled the circle and flowed together.
“More flame!” Kyja shouted. “More air. Keep the water and soil coming.”
In the center of the circle, the key formed. It wavered, almost disappeared for a moment, then glowed brightly.
“That’s it,” Marcus said. “Hold it right there.”
He knelt on the circle, grasped the key in his right hand, and tried to turn it.
The key didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?’ Kyja asked.
“It won’t budge.” The muscles in his good arm stood out as he used all his strength to twist. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“We can’t hold it,” Lanctrus-Darnoc yelled. “The key’s about to break.”
“Try harder,” Kyja called. Leaning over Marcus, she wanted to help him turn the key, but she couldn’t help, not without magic.
They’d done everything right. Why wasn’t it working?
Marcus grunted. He gave one last heave, and the key disappeared from between his fingers. Water, land, air, and fire magic disappeared as well.
“Did we do it?” Kyja asked. “Did we open the gate?”
“No,” Marcus said. “It didn’t work.”
39: The Drift
“Maybe you weren’t turning hard enough,” Kyja suggested. “Maybe part of you doesn’t want to open the gate.”
“I was trying,” Marcus snapped. “I gave my word that I’d open the drift, and I won’t break a promise.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you would,” Kyja said. “But if part of you isn’t completely committed—”
“I’m committed!” he yelled.
Kyja pulled back, her face crumpling, and he felt like a complete jerk.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” He stared at his twisted left arm. “Maybe I’m not strong enough. Maybe it takes two arms.” He looked at Master Therapass and the rest of the wizards, who were sitting dejectedly around the gate. “Why don’t one of you try?”
The wizard shook his head. “Opening the gate does require strength, but it’s the kind you possess more of than anyone else here—strength of heart, strength of will. Lack of strength is not the problem.”
“Than what is?” Marcus’s face went red. Kyja had been so amazing with how she’d gotten the elementals to work together. It was the kind of thing she did all the time—making peace, helping those in need, figuring things out. She’d done her part. She’d managed to create the key, which even the Dark Circle hadn’t been able to do. All he’d had to do was reach down and turn it. And he’d failed, spectacularly, in front of everyone.
“I don’t know why the key didn’t turn,” Master Therapass said. “But you are the one to turn it, and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“What if I’m not?” Marcus whispered. He pulled up the sleeve of his robe. “What if this scar is fake, and I’m not special at all?”
The Wizard met his gaze with a steely stare. “It is not the mark that makes you special.”
Maybe, but what else did he have? Without the mark, he was nothing but a kid with a bad leg and arm, a dead mother, and a psychotic father. What did he have to offer? He stared at the image of the Elementals battling the Summoner—the Master’s last and greatest joke, continuing even after his death.
What was the stupid mark supposed to mean anyway? There never had been a battle between the elementals and a Summoner. The explosion had killed Bonesplinter, not . . .
Marcus looked around the field of dead bodies. He pushed himself to his feet.
“What?” Kyja asked. “What are you looking for?”
Marcus hurried back to the hill. He searched through the piles of bodies. It had been here, at the base of the hill when the explosion went off, surely it was still there; it couldn’t have disintegrated.
“Can I help you find whatever you’re looking for?” Kyja asked.
Master Therapass watched them both with a raised eyebrow.
“I think he’s finally lost his crackers,” Riph Raph said. “One too many bangs to the melon.”
Marcus looked left, and there it was—farther away than he had expected, but clearly identifiable by its bright-red body.
“The Summoner?” Kyja asked. “What do you want with that?”
“I’m just glad it’s dead,” Riph Raph said. “I don’t ever want to see another one again.”
Marcus approached the tattered creature. One of its wings was completely blown off, and the other was in shreds. Gashes covered its scaled body, and several large chunks of flesh were missing. Yet somehow, its chest raised and lowered slowly.
“It’s still alive,” Kyja said.
Marcus searched the bodies around the monster until he found a sword, which he dragged back to the creature. “This is why the gate won’t open. There’s still one thing left to do. The elementals have to slay the Summoner. That’s what the mark on my arm means. Only then will the prophecy will be complete, and we’ll be able to make the drift.
He held the sword out to the elementals. “Do you want to do it?”
Magma took the sword. “With pleasure.”
Kyja tilted her head as though listening. Her lips moved, but Marcus couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Cascade, Lanctrus-Darnoc, and Divum each all took hold of the sword with Magma. The elementals raised the sword above their heads, and the Summoner weakly opened one eye.
As the elementals began to plunge the sword downward, Kyja leaped in front of them. “Wait,” she cried. “Don’t kill it.”
“What do you mean, we have to let it live?” Marcus yanked up his sleeve and showed her his scar. “You have one of these on your amulet. Master Therapass says they are everywhere. Have you looked at it? The elementals have to kill the monster. It’s the end of the quest.”
“The boy is right,” Magma said, holding the sword in one hand and his mace in the other. “The creature must die.”
Kyja stood squarely between the Pyrinth and the Summoner. “There’s a person inside there. He’s been tortured and hurt. But deep inside, he is still a person.”
“I know who he is,” Marcus spat. “Bonesplinter has been trying to kill us for years. Now it’s our turn.”
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Kyja said, unwavering.
“I don’t care whether the monster can hurt me. It’s the last remaining piece of the Dark Circle. Until it’s destroyed, we can’t open the gate.”
She knew she was being stubborn, but she didn’t care. Killing the creature didn’t feel right, and if there was one thing she’d learned over the course of their adventures, it was to trust her instincts. Back in Icehold, when the Summoner had snatched her off the city wall, she’d sensed that there might be a way to free the poor soul trapped inside the creature. She felt that way now.
She took out her amulet and studied the image. “What if this doesn’t mean what you think it does?”
Marcus looked at Riph Raph. “Is she making any sense to you?”
The skyte waggled its ears. “Not really.”
“You see two creatures trying to kill each other,” Kyja said, holding the amulet directly in front of Marcus’s face. “But what if they aren’t fighting? What if they are embracing?”
Marcus’s mouth dropped open. “Uhhhh . . .”
Magma looked just as flummoxed. “You want me to . . . hug the creature?”
“You don’t have to hug it,” Kyja said. “But think about it this way: What do Earth, Farworld, and the realm of shadows all have in common? War. Fighting. Unhappiness. Is one more death what it takes to connect our worlds? Or do we need to prove that we’ve finally managed to find peace?”
Master Therapass grinned. “I knew there was magic inside you.”
Marcus eyed the Summoner dubiously. Its body, which the wizards had floated to the center of the gate, covered the keyhole completely. He had no idea how he was supposed to get at the key—if it would form again at all.
But Kyja didn’t seem to share any of his doubts. She squeezed his hand and grinned. “This is going to work.”
“If you say so.” He glanced at the elementals, who all seemed as unconvinced as he was, except for Divum, who still appeared amused by the whole thing. Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you want me to do?”
“Exactly what you did before,” Kyja said.
He shrugged. “Okay. Places everyone. And . . . lights, camera, action.”
As they had done the first time, Lanctrus-Darnoc filled their section of gate with soil. Cascade added water, Magma produced flames, and Divum fanned them with air. Except this time, the spot where the elements met was hidden by the Summoner’s body.
Standing with Marcus next to the Summoner, Kyja shouted, “Everyone together!”
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Marcus asked.
Kyja pointed down.
Something was happening to the Summoner. It was twisting, changing. Its body began to shrink. Wings turned into arms. Talons into feet. Fire, air, land, and water magic swirled around the figure in a pillar of twisting colors.
Then Bonesplinter was standing in the center of the gate. He looked around, clearly confused.
“It’s all right,” Kyja said. “We won’t hurt you.”
The key flared in its hole. Marcus dropped and clasped it between his fingers. He tried to turn it but still couldn’t. Another hand closed over his. He looked up to find Bonesplinter leaning over him. Kyja added her hand on top of theirs.
Kyja and Marcus met eyes, knowing it might be the last time they would see each other. She waited as though, giving him a chance to stop the drift from opening. But Master Therapass was right. This was about so much more than the two of them. It was the hardest thing Marcus had done in his life, but he smiled at her and nodded.
Together, the three of them twisted, and the key turned.
On an early Chicago morning, a boy was shooting baskets into a rusty hoop. As he stepped back to take a free throw, the ball suddenly blazed in his hands. Lines of color shot out from it like fireworks. He should have been terrified, but he wasn’t. He clutched the ball to his chest, looked up at the cloudy, gray sky and shouted—not entirely understanding his own words, but knowing they were true. “They did it!”
In an underground room deep in the center of the realm of shadows, King Phillip and his engineers were working feverishly on a bank of computers. It was almost time. He looked up at a screen showing hundreds of Spell Casters feeding his system. Suddenly, the screen in front of him blew out, shattering glass across the room. Then another and another.
“What’s going on?” he screamed.
His engineers backed away from their computers. One of them pointed at the screen on the wall, and the king looked over to see every one of the Casters wrapped in a glowing cocoon of color. The silver wires attached to their bodies snapped like short-circuited electric cables, and the Casters floated to the ground. Two guards, one with metal hands and the other with a metal jaw, raced toward the Casters, weapons drawn. A silver cable touched them, and they were thrown across the room, unconscious.
The King ground his teeth, much the way Marcus did when he was angry, then clenched his fists and muttered, “My son.”
In a small but neat apartment, a woman was feeding her baby before going to work for the day. Pink light filled the room, and the baby floated up out of its highchair, giggling. The woman froze with the spoon of baby food in her hand. She stared at the ceiling, but it wasn’t the cracked panels she noticed. In her mind, she saw the girl who’d brought her money and cloaks when she’d been about to give up. The girl who’d felt . . . different, somehow. In the world, but not of it.
All at once, as though someone else’s memories had been put in her head, she knew. Who the girl was, where she’d gone, where she was, and what she’d done. The woman dropped the spoon to the ground. “My daughter!”
A woman who had left her abusive husband was watching her son’s first horseback riding lesson when the old nag he rode turned into a unicorn.
Three women playing cards burst into tears of joy for no reason then hugged each other. “The children,” one of them said, although she wouldn’t
remember doing so later. “The children are safe.”
Strange things happened all over Earth. In Africa, a beggar realized he could fly. A pair of starving children in Bangladesh discovered that they could make as much food as they wanted. Volcanos that had been dormant for a thousand years erupted. Los Angeles skyscrapers turned into castles. People driving to work stared in shock as their cars changed into carriages pulled by winged lions. A man running through Central Park skidded to a stop as a group of white ball-shaped creatures with pink antennas scurried across his path.
Every elemental on Farworld looked up from what they’d been doing as requests for their magic came flooding in.
Mr. Z shook hands with two women, and with a man who looked more like a tree—or was he a tree who looked more like a man? The little man threw his tophat in the air and whooped with joy.
“I knew they could do it all along! Never doubted it for a minute.” He pulled a tiny whistle out of his pocket and blew it loudly. “Drymaios, get over those sniffles and come here. We have places to go.”
Magic blasted into the air like the spout of a fire hydrant filled with rainbows, and Marcus and Kyja both felt something roaring up from the gate. At the same time, something was sucked past them into it. Power like neither of them had ever imagined shook them from head to foot.
Around them, the elementals stood frozen in shock. Even Cascade—who was never surprised by anything—stood with his mouth hanging open.
Bonesplinter, who had once been a boy with a dream of becoming a great wizard so he could care for his ill parents, burst into tears for everything he’d lost, then realized that maybe he hadn’t lost quite everything.
The ground, which had been shaking like an earthquake to end all earthquakes, finally stopped rumbling. The pillar of magic subsided into the gate once more.
Kyja looked around. She was still here, in Farworld.
Marcus looked for a door, but there wasn’t one. The entire gate had disappeared.
Fire Keep Page 28
