“But then his right hand released its sword and found my arm. ‘Is the child safe?’ he asked with the last of his strength.
“When I nodded, he squeezed my arm one final time as the life slipped out of him.”
Marcus sat stunned, trying to absorb everything he had just heard. “He died saving me,” he whispered.
The wizard nodded.
Marcus swallowed. It was too much. “I . . . That is . . .” He wiped his hand across his lips, trying to collect his thoughts. “Do you know my name? My real name?”
Master Therapass shook his head. “The tower wasn’t provided a name. Only that a child had been born. I returned to the city to search for information about you, but if any records existed before the Dark Circle arrived, they were stolen or destroyed.”
“And my . . . parents?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then they really are dead,” Marcus said, feeling numb all over. Over the last few years he’d pretty much come to that conclusion himself, but to hear it stated as cold fact . . . He rubbed his hands on his pants.
“Why did you leave him on Ert?” Kyja asked. “Why not bring him back once you were safely at the tower?”
“It’s a mistake I’ve regretted ever since.” Master Therapass grimaced. “I can blame it on the speed with which I had to create the door or the limited amount of knowledge we have of such passageways. But the truth of the matter is, I miscalculated. You see, in order to move a person from one world to another, you must balance the scales.”
“What scales?” Kyja asked, shaking her head.
“The Scales of Order. From what little I had been able to discover about creating portals, I understood that to send Marcus to Earth, I would have to take a person back. A person of equal value to what I sent. In simple terms, I performed a trade—a person destined to change the future of this world for a person destined to change the future of the world I sent him to.”
Master Therapass rubbed his palms together as though trying to wash them with thin air. “I assumed the trade would only be for a brief time. No more than a matter of minutes, if I survived. Days, if another wizard needed to perform the return spell. My mistake was in assuming I could send the other person back to Earth, and thus return our child to this world. But you see, the person I summoned here could not be returned.”
“Why not?” Kyja asked.
Master Therapass studied her carefully before answering. “I could not send her back because she was immune to magic. The person I traded Marcus for was you, Kyja.”
* * *
Now it was Kyja’s turn to feel as if she’d just been slapped. She was from Ert? A world of flying machines and strange clothing? A place where magic was only for little children? The idea terrified her and angered her all at the same time.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, feeling her face grow hot.
“I wanted to.” Master Therapass reached for Kyja’s hand, but she pulled it away.
“You let me think I was a mutant. You pretended to be my friend.” She felt betrayed by the person she trusted most in the world. “How could you do that to me?”
The wizard let her take her anger out on him before saying, “It was the only way to protect you.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand. How could lying protect me?”
Confused, she now allowed Master Therapass to take her hand. “As soon as I brought you to this world, I knew I must keep your identity a secret. If word got out of what I’d done, your life would be in great danger. As long as you were alive, there was the possibility I might discover a way to bring Marcus back. If you were dead, it would be impossible to balance the Scales of Order. Marcus would never be able to return. The forces of darkness would prevail.
“I never even told the High Lord or the other members of the council. I let them think that Tankum and I had discovered nothing. Kyja was simply an orphan, a child who survived the attack.”
“But what about my family?” Kyja asked, her head spinning. “Do my parents even know what happened to me?”
“I’m sorry. If I’d only known.” The wizard shook his head, his face looking older than Kyja could ever remember. “It’s no excuse. The worst thing a wizard can do is practice magic he does not understand. If there was any way to undo what I’ve done . . .”
Master Therapass buried his face in his hands.
For a moment the three of them sat in quiet thought. Then Kyja reached out to the wizard, gently pulling his hands away from his face until she could look into his tired eyes. “It’s all right. I forgive you.”
Master Therapass squeezed her small hands with his long, wrinkled fingers. “If there is any way. Any way to get you home again.”
Kyja gave an understanding nod.
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Marcus said. “What was so important about the child? If I really am the child from the legend, what am I supposed to do that would make the Dark Circle want to kill me?”
Master Therapass sighed. “Every version of the story has two different endings. In one version the child turns back the dark evil and restores order to his world.” The wizard closed his eyes and spoke as if repeating memorized lines. “He shall make whole that which was torn asunder. Restore that which was lost. And all shall be as one.”
“And in the other?”
The old man studied Marcus with sadness in his eyes. “In the other ending—the ending spoken of only in the quietest of whispers around fires late at night—the child joins the forces of darkness, and Farworld is destroyed.”
Chapter 24
Questions and Answers
Something doesn’t make sense,” Kyja blurted out. Marcus and Master Therapass turned in her direction. “If the only way to bring Marcus back was to send me to Ert—”
“Earth,” Marcus corrected, but Kyja just waved her hand.
“If the only way to bring Marcus back was to send me to . . .
Er-at,” she tried to pronounce it the way Marcus had, but it still came out sounding like Ert. “Then how are Marcus and I both here?”
As Master Therapass stood, the food and place settings disappeared from the table. “That is one of the things I need to discover,” he said. “I have a hunch. If I am right, Marcus’s time here may be shorter than you think, and he still has much to do. I must return to the tower at once and search every scrap of information on the subject.”
“You’re leaving?” Kyja and Marcus said together.
“What are we supposed to do?” Kyja asked.
“What do you mean, my time here may be shorter than you think?” Marcus demanded, slapping his hand on the table.
Master Therapass held both hands in front of him, palms out. “Your questions will have to wait. I must go back to the tower at once. It would not be wise for my absence to be noticed right now. And it would be extremely dangerous for either of you to come with me. As far as I can tell, the Thrathkin S’Bae have lost your trail. But if they find out about Marcus’s presence here, that will change quickly.
“Just over a day’s ride north is the Westland Woods. You will be safe there until I return. If my suspicions prove correct, you will need answers I cannot provide. But there is one who may be able to help you. When you reach the forest, seek out Olden. I will send word ahead to expect you.”
“Who is this Olden person?” Marcus asked.
The wizard chuckled. “Olden is not a person. Olden is a tree—the most ancient in Westland and the first of the Weather Guardians. Olden has watched generations of man come and go. If there are answers to be found, that is the first place you should look.”
As Master Therapass turned to leave, Kyja stepped in front of him, arms folded across her chest, jaw set. “You can’t just tell us a story like that and then leave,” she said. “I’ve got a million questions.”
The wizard rubbed his chin and smiled down at her. “Very well, little one. I don’t have time for a million. But I’ll try and answer one question for each
of you before I go.”
Kyja didn’t have to consider which question she wanted answered most. She’d been thinking about it ever since Master Therapass told her she was really from Ert. “In the tower, you promised me I had magic. But now you tell me I am from a planet that doesn’t have magic. Why did you lie?”
The wizard scratched at something in his beard, and a small, glittering orange and gold insect buzzed angrily before crawling out from between the long whiskers and flying away. “I’ve been known to trim my beard less often than I should. I have been accused more than once—and rightfully so—of acting before thinking things through. But I never lie.”
His eyes darkened as his face grew stern. “You do have magic, Kyja. Every person on every world has magic. Some just forget how to use it, or neglect it for so long that it withers away and dies. Do not think for a minute that because your magic is less obvious it does not exist. If you won’t take my word for it, consider this:
“When I opened the doorway that sent Marcus to Earth, I knew another person would be brought to this world—it was demanded by the Scales of Order. But it wasn’t until I returned to the tower that I discovered who had taken his place here. You were drawn to this world precisely because of the strength of the magic you possess and your importance to the future of Earth.”
“But then, why—”
Master Therapass raised a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. “It is not wise to examine your own magic too closely. Let it show itself when it will.” He turned to Marcus, who sat quietly at the table. “Your question?”
Marcus swallowed and rubbed his bad leg as though trying to muster up his courage. “When I was on Earth, I couldn’t move my leg or arm almost at all. But here . . .” Marcus opened and closed the fingers of his left hand and, pulling himself up on the edge of the table, took a hesitant, limping step forward.
“Most intriguing,” the wizard said. “One thing that has always troubled me is how you managed to survive the Dark Circle’s first attack when you were an infant. The injuries you sustained should have killed you. The Fallen Ones destroyed every living thing except the one person they came in search of.”
Marcus’s face paled, and Kyja noticed how his hand unconsciously went to his bad leg.
“At the time, I assumed it was simply an almost unbelievable oversight,” Master Therapass continued. “The creatures which attacked the child assumed he was dead and left without making completely sure. It never set quite right with me, but what other explanation was there?”
Marcus shrugged. “But now you don’t think so?”
“I’ve always known there was a connection between the future of the child in the legend and the future of Farworld. What I didn’t realize was how strong that connection might be. What if the Fallen Ones did kill you—or at least injured you severely enough that you should have died?”
“But then how did I survive?” Marcus asked.
“Precisely.” The old wizard tapped his fingers against his robe-covered knee. “That your injuries seem less severe here on Farworld brings to memory a version of the legend I once came across recorded in a small village far to the northwest, near the border of the Trees of Before Time. According to the story handed down through generations of the farmers there, the child who was destined to save or destroy our world was linked to Farworld not only by his future, but by a mysterious connection much stronger.
“Marcus, I think it’s possible you survived the Dark Circle’s attack because your health is somehow linked inseparably to the health of this world. Perhaps the Dark Circle attacked you not just because you might one day lead a battle against them, but because your death might in and of itself bring about the fall of the world you are destined to save or destroy.”
Marcus rubbed at his leg even more fiercely. “So I didn’t die because . . . ?”
“Because Farworld—while weakened by the Dark Circle’s strength—was not yet ready to fall. Your near-death was a blow to Farworld, but you were saved by the magic of the world itself. When I transported you to Earth, you were robbed of this world’s sustaining magic. But by returning here you have reestablished hope for our world, and your injuries are lessened.”
“But if that’s true, then why haven’t I been healed completely?”
Master Therapass nodded slowly. “Because Farworld is still in danger.”
Marcus’s face lit up with sudden understanding. “You’re saying that if I save Farworld, Farworld will heal me?”
“I think that is entirely possible.”
“But what happens if the Dark Circle succeeds?” Kyja asked.
The wizard’s eye’s darkened. “If Farworld falls, I believe Marcus will die, and likewise, if Marcus falls, it spells the inevitable demise of this world.”
“If my health is tied to Farworld’s health,” Marcus said quickly, “couldn’t we just find a way to cure me and save Farworld at the same time? You said your magic couldn’t heal my injuries when I was a baby. But does that mean you still can’t . . . that magic can’t . . .” He let his words fade away.
Master Therapass knelt by Marcus’s side, wincing a little as he bent, and gently touched Marcus’s leg. “Magic is a strange thing,” he said with a measured look. “Who is to say what magic can or cannot do? Just because I can’t cure the wounds inflicted upon you—or upon myself, for that matter—by the Dark Circle, does not mean the wounds are not curable.
“But just because a thing can be done with magic does not mean it should be done.” As he got to his feet, the wizard took in both Marcus and Kyja with his deep, dark eyes. “Sometimes the things we view as our biggest weaknesses turn out to be our greatest strengths. Don’t be too eager to rid yourself of your burdens. Your burdens are what shape you.”
He began to turn away, then stopped and looked back at Marcus. “How are you feeling? Are you well?”
“A little confused,” Marcus said. “But other than that, all right, I guess.”
“Good.” A troubled look seemed to pass over the wizard’s face for a brief moment, but then he smiled. “Travel safely, keep your fire burning at night, and keep that skyte from terrorizing the local wildlife. I should join you shortly after you reach the forest.” With that, he changed into his wolf form and loped off across the meadow.
* * *
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and the night held only the ordinary sounds of nocturnal animals, which stayed away from the fire Kyja, Riph Raph, and Marcus kept blazing much higher than necessary. The next morning, Marcus awoke with a queasy feeling in his stomach and a slight pressure behind his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Kyja asked when he barely touched his breakfast.
“Sure,” Marcus said. He tried to eat another bite of egg. The flavor was every bit as fantastic as it had been the day before, but his stomach jolted in a way that made him quickly push his plate away. “I think I might be coming down with a cold.”
“What’s a cold?” Kyja asked.
Marcus grunted. “Believe me, if you don’t have those here, you don’t want to know. Let’s get packed up and moving. Maybe I’ll feel better by lunch.”
But by lunchtime, only a few miles from the Westland Woods, he was feeling worse. His head was aching, and sweat dripped down his face. Sitting beside him on a log by the brook where they’d stopped to rest, Kyja reached out and touched his forehead. “You’re hot,” she said, frowning.
“I don’t feel so good,” he admitted. The headache had turned to a pounding behind his eyes, and everything had taken on a slightly fuzzy look. He was starving, but just the thought of food made him gag. He wondered if he might be coming down with the flu. Did they have the flu here? Or maybe some worse Farworld illness to which his body hadn’t built up resistance?
Kyja dipped a handkerchief in the cold water and pressed it to his forehead. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not unless you have penicillin or aspirin.”
“Are those cures?” she asked w
ith a worried look.
He nodded, but even that slight movement of his head made the pain in his temples roar.
“We have cures here. But I didn’t bring any,” she said. “Most of them are magic, so they don’t affect me.”
“I’ll bet you’d love Extra-Strength Tylenol,” he said and tried to grin.
“Maybe you’d better rest for a while before we ride any farther,” Kyja suggested.
“I think you’re right.” He slid off the log and lay down on the cool grass. He hated to stop with the edge of the forest in sight, but he wasn’t sure he could handle riding on Chance’s back without throwing up. The wet cloth over his head helped a little—if only he could make the ground stop spinning beneath him.
He had hardly closed his eyes when something jerked him awake. His heart was racing, and his mouth had gone dry. Sitting up, he looked quickly around. Everything seemed fine, but a feeling of terrible danger roared through his body.
“What is it?” Kyja asked, sensing his alarm.
“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” he stammered. He couldn’t seem to breathe. The feeling of imminent peril was so strong he could practically taste it. “We have to get out of—”
Riph Raph dropped from the sky, cutting off Marcus mid-sentence. The skyte’s yellow eyes bulged with fear.
“Thrathkin S’Bae!”
Chapter 25
Thrathkin S’Bae
Riph Raph hopped about the ground, flapping his leathery wings wildly.
“Where did they come from?” Kyja asked. “How did they get here?”
“I don’t know!” Riph Raph squawked. “One minute there was nothing—no dust clouds, no movement—and the next they were here.”
Kyja patted the skyte’s wing, trying to calm him. “All right, then. Which direction are they?”
“Every direction!” Riph Raph flew three feet into the air and swiveled his head right and left. “Only two of the Thrathkin S’Bae, but lots of horrible looking dog things sniffing around searching for you.”
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