by Jake Kerr
Mister Ali followed right behind me. The building shook again, and the hatch fell downward, barely missing his head. As we both stood still, we could hear the moaning and crashing of immense blocks of stone falling above our head. I cried out, “Grandfather!” and turned to leap up the steps. The light from the cane was blinding.
Mister Ali gripped my shoulder and leaned toward me, his eyes very close to mine. “Master Thomas. Your Grandfather is a powerful and resourceful man. You must trust that he found a way to escape. I do.” His kind eyes and smile were too much for me to ignore. I couldn’t help but trust him. Still, the sense of loss was overwhelming. Grandfather was all I had left in my life. The thought of his dying staggered me.
Mister Ali grabbed the arm I was using to hold the cane and pulled it up, placing the light between us and above our heads like a beacon. “Be strong, Master Thomas. Your grandfather would expect nothing less. Do not look to the past, we must look now to the future.”
I took a deep breath, and in the fetid air and magical light knew that Mister Ali was right. My grandfather wanted me to bear his cane—the staff—and I owed that to him. I wiped my tears even as they continued to flow and turned my head, looking down into the deep darkness which concealed a river somewhere below. “Where does the river lead, Mister Ali?”
He let go of my arm and stood up, the torchlight glinting off his eyes. “I know not, Master Thomas. No one does.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HRUMPH
Each step left the screams, explosions, and falling stone further behind, while ahead of me lay tomb-like silence. The stillness of the descent reminded me of how alone I was now in the world. I had always dreamed of being free and on my own in Manhattan, but it was a bitter thought now. My parents were gone, and now my grandfather was gone, too.
I had only one memory of my parents, waking up on Christmas morning and finding a rocking horse under the tree. I ran to them both and hugged them tight. My father patted my back. My mom kissed my cheek. After they died, there were many times when the memory of those hugs kept me going.
I grasped at that memory, at the warm hugs of my departed parents, but there was a key piece now missing—the knowledge that my Grandfather was at least still with me. I felt empty and numb and scared at the thought that he, too, was now nothing more than a comfort from my past.
Even with the bright light of the cane in my hand illuminating our way, I felt the walls pressing against me. Our steps echoed slightly, and that only made things worse, as it was the only sound I could hear. The presence of the cane—the rough outline of the runes against my hand; the tingling of energy I could sense, even if I couldn't understand it—was calming but also frustrating. I had performed some kind of magic, but it was no different than carrying a torch.
I once again felt useless, and step after step of bare stone and quiet wore on me.
Mister Ali didn't speak, and I couldn't bring myself to break the painful silence. I didn’t know how I would have reacted if he had mentioned my grandfather, somewhere in the broken building above me.
The staircase was broad and circular. I tried to distract myself and focus on details, but each stone step looked like every other one—hewn from rock and smooth from years of use or erosion. Eventually, my arm tired, and I lowered the cane and tapped it on the ground with each step. At the second tap, Mister Ali stopped and turned. "What are you doing?" His tone was curious, not accusatory.
"My arm was getting tired."
He nodded and replied, "Your grandfather loved the sound of the staff. He would tap the ground with it constantly."
Memories flooded into me: Afternoon walks with my grandfather, his cane tapping the cobblestones, alerting the entire neighborhood to his approach. The school play that started without him in the theater and me devastated at his absence, only for me to hear a tap, tap, tap, down a theater aisle in the middle of the first act. I smiled on stage, knowing he was there.
“I know!" I answered, excited that Mister Ali and I had shared at least one memory of my grandfather. I felt a little less alone.
Mister Ali sighed and sat down on a step. "We should rest for a bit."
I looked up the staircase as I sat down. "Will they follow us?"
"The elementals?" Mister Ali laughed. "Goodness no. They know where this staircase leads."
I was sitting next to Mister Ali, the cane resting on its point between us, the light shining down and lighting our faces from above. Mister Ali smiled, and patted me on the knee. "Don't worry, Master Thomas."
I smiled my bravest smile and decided that the time was right to ask some questions. “Do you think Grandfather is alive?”
He stared at me, the light glinting off his eyes. I felt like he was sizing me up, wondering whether I could handle a hard truth. “Yes,” he eventually replied.
A surge of happiness filled me. If Grandfather was alive, that meant he could be saved. I clenched the cane. “I will save him then.”
Mister Ali put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “We will save him, but first we must get to safety.”
I looked down into the shadows where the staircase led. “Will the river at the bottom take us directly to the ocean, or will it lead us to deeper rivers underground?”
“This is not that kind of river. It is a deep magic from within the Earth, a spirit of reckless impudence that plays games on those that dare to travel upon it.”
“It’s alive?”
“It is alive in the sense that everything around us is alive, including magic. Your staff is alive, which you will discover in time.” I looked at the staff as I ran my fingers over some of the runes. I could feel the power and sense the complexity. It didn’t feel alive, but it certainly felt natural in my hand.
“So is the river dangerous? You said it was evil.”
“I did not say it was evil, Master Thomas. I said it was impudent. That makes it even more dangerous. Those that enter the river never know where or when they will end up. It is the whim of the river itself that guides us, and it is a spirit with a devious sense of humor.”
I tried to understand a river that could play tricks on those that floated upon it. After a short while, I spoke again, “What do you mean ‘when?’ Can the river take us to other times?”
“It can, but it will not with us. The staff can exist in only one time, and even the river cannot change that. We will end up somewhere in our time, Master Thomas, but whether it is in the midst of our enemies or four thousand miles away, I cannot say.”
I loved the idea of time travel, which I had marveled at in H.G. Wells' novel The Time Machine and had dreamt about ever since. “But for those without the staff, they could travel through time?”
“Dismiss such thoughts!” Mister Ali stated emphatically. “Such a journey leads only to madness, or worse.” Standing up, his face looked troubled, the smile gone. "We should continue," he added, taking a step downward while I scrambled to my feet. Mister Ali walked ahead, while I followed. I couldn't see his face, but I was horrified that I had made him angry. I didn’t want to be alone and already missed our conversation.
We walked long enough that Mister Ali’s torch began to sputter. After countless turns I had no idea if we were descending for ten minutes or sixty. The only noticeable change was the awful smell getting stronger. It was not just the smell of stale air. Everything smelled of age and decay and lack of movement—the air, the water, even the stone. After a few more minutes Mister Ali stopped in front of me and tossed his torch to the ground.
“Let me rest for a bit, Master Thomas. I am strong, but I am still old.” He laughed and sat on a step, his previous anger at me apparently gone. I sat down and dropped the tip of the cane on the floor. The sharp sound of the brass tip hitting the stone couldn’t help but make me smile. I felt a surge of emotion for Mister Ali. He was my grandfather's friend. He saved me from the collapse of the restaurant. He could train me in the use of the cane. And, perhaps more than anything, he seemed kind and genuinely c
oncerned about me. Even his anger over my question felt more protective than petty in hindsight.
“Can you please call me Tommy, Mister Ali?” He looked at me and smiled.
“Of course! Declan—your grandfather—always hated titles, too. I believe I cuffed him around the head a few times when we first met and he didn’t call me ‘Archmage,’ but I finally gave up.” Mister Ali laughed again, the laughs breaking the deathly silence with a welcome joy.
“Archmage?”
“Ah, Tommy,” he smiled as he said my name, “it is a title for those that have borne the staff. In fact, come to think of it, I have been rude—I’ve been calling you master Thomas when it should now be Archmage Thomas!” He paused, but then added, “But I like ‘Tommy’ better.”
He stood, then stretched. “But enough lounging around. We must be off.” His torch was dead, but the light of the cane was easily bright enough to light his way, even with me a step behind.
I stood up and as Mister Ali started again I asked another question. “You had the cane before my grandfather?”
As we walked, his answers echoed lightly off the walls. “For but a short time. His father..." Mister Ali paused. "Well, let me put it this way, his father’s talents with the staff were not what the world needed at the time, and he agreed that it would be better that Declan wield it. It was my duty to take it to your grandfather. It was an honor and a burden. I am not meant to bear the staff, and its magic is useless in my hands.” He paused, turned, and nodded toward the cane, its light filling the staircase all the way to the turns above and below us.
I was about to ask more questions when I heard what sounded like the lapping of water. Mister Ali paused, and then whispered, “We are close, Tommy.” He increased his pace, and after a few more twists of the staircase we arrived at a stone landing.
When Mister Ali had said “underground river” I had expected us to come along the banks of raging waters, flowing through stalagmites and stalactites, but the reality was far different. We emerged in a large room whose floor slanted down to a pool of water that flowed into a large tunnel in the far wall. There was a wooden boat sitting in the water, its prow resting on the slanted floor. It was attached to a stone post by an iron chain. The fetid smell was overpowering.
I couldn’t make sense of where the smell could be coming from. The pool in front of us was moving gently and lapping against the stone, as if the water was flowing into the room from another source, but the smell was of stagnation and decay. I covered my mouth, and Mister Ali noticed. “Yes, Tommy. The water hasn’t left this room in many many years.”
We walked further along the landing. I guess you could call it a landing, but it really seemed more like the room was flooded on the other side. With the dank smell, I couldn’t imagine where the river was. Perhaps it was blocked further down the tunnel, fouling the water.
As we walked toward the boat I got a better sense of the room. The floor was solid rock, smooth but uneven, stretching twenty feet beyond the base of the staircase, and it had the appearance of what you would see at the bottom of an ancient natural cavern, worn down not by human hands but rather water erosion over many years. The ceiling was perhaps 20 feet above my head and also smooth. Everything appeared normal, but it all felt strange in some way. I shivered when my foot touched the water.
Our feet got wet as we walked down the slanted rock and approached the boat. The boat and chain were the only things in the room that looked like they were made by human hands. Even that perception proved false, as the stone post the chain was connected to appeared to be an odd-shaped stalagmite on closer inspection. The chain looked like it had been melted into the stone during a volcanic eruption eons ago.
I looked down, expecting to see scummy and brown water staining my khaki pants, but to my surprise the water was crystal clear. Despite the smell and Mister Ali’s comment about the water not having moved in many years, it looked clear and refreshing.
Mister Ali climbed into the boat and then took my hand to help me in. It looked like a large rowboat, although there were no oars. The wood was old but in fine shape. There wasn’t a drop of water inside. I sat down on a wooden plank near the back that acted as a seat, facing Mister Ali, who sat on a similar plank near the center of the boat. The boat was larger than it first appeared and could have fit two or three more men easily. As I twisted on my seat to make myself more comfortable, I noticed that the boat barely rocked as I moved.
I watched as Mister Ali turned his back to me and started fiddling with the chain. He cursed in Farsi using a word I didn’t understand and then turned and sat down with a hrumph. “Tommy, I was going to discuss the staff with you later, but I’m afraid you must free us,” he said. He didn't sound happy. “So let this be an exception. Otherwise, the staff is too powerful and you too young to use it." He held out his hand and helped me forward.
I felt both hurt and annoyed at Mister Ali's comment. After all, hadn't I used the cane to light our way, and hadn't my grandfather given it to me for a reason? But these thoughts were fleeting, as the challenge of the chain awaited me.
The chain attaching the boat to the post was connected to an iron ring on the top of the prow. It was a solid chain, with no visible way of removing it. A quick glance showed that it was similarly attached to the post. Without some kind of saw I couldn’t think of any way to free us. “Use the staff, Tommy,” Mister Ali directed. I shrugged and tapped the chain with the bottom of the cane. Nothing happened. I turned back to look at Mister Ali, not knowing what else to do.
“Tommy, think of how you brought forth the light. You didn’t provide the light, the staff did. You cannot hack at the chain as if the staff is a garden tool. You must guide the staff, not simply wield it.” Mister Ali smiled and waved at the chain again.
I closed my eyes and gripped the cane tight in my right hand. I sensed the power inside and tried to connect it to the chain. I felt the rough shapes of the runes under my fingers as I imagined the chain falling away at a single touch. Something about what I did was close to the solution, but the actual key was just beyond my grasp. I tried to focus on what I was missing when Mister Ali interrupted. “Tommy, you must communicate with the staff. Find a way to tell it what you want, and it will happen!" He smiled an encouraging smile. "Keep at it. You can do it!"
I paused. I didn't know what to say. Mister Ali was wrong. I knew it instinctively—the entire concept of telling the staff what I wanted made no sense; the connection wasn’t like that. I didn’t know what to say, however, so I looked at Mister Ali and gave him a nod. He smiled and slapped me on the back.
I turned back to the chain. What was the key? I knew that I couldn’t request or command the staff to do my bidding. It wasn’t communication. It was something more primal. Yet every thought that filled my mind not only didn’t offer a solution but came up completely empty, as if there was no connection to the staff at all. Dissolving the chain, turning it into a mist, breaking a link, breaking the ring connected to the boat—I felt like I was doing little more than daydreaming. But I knew there was a solution. It was achingly similar to how I brought forth the light and yet different enough that I couldn’t grasp it.
I lowered the staff and just thought about needing to be off and onto the river so I could save Grandfather. And with that thought I felt it. It was so obvious. How could I have not realized it? It was like the time a few years earlier when I was playing baseball with my friends. I was a horrible hitter. Nothing I did improved my batting, and my friends mocked me endlessly. One time I was at bat, and I missed a pitch. My friend Travis, who was pitching, asked me if he should throw underhanded. I angrily swung the bat back in the opposite direction to get in position for the next pitch and experienced an epiphany—swinging the bat from the other direction felt natural. I moved to the other side of the plate and hit left-handed from then on. I became one of the best hitters on my street, solely due to my no longer holding the bat how everyone else did but rather holding it the way that felt n
atural to me.
I moved the cane to my right hand. Not because that was the correct thing to do but because it simply felt more comfortable. I then raised the cane above my head, and, without any additional movement, the chain disappeared. I can’t even recall if I thought about it at all. Maybe not thinking about it was part of the solution. It was still quite confusing to me. All I knew was that something felt right.
The chain didn’t collapse into a pile as if I broke a link. It didn’t change into a mist. It didn’t even make a sound. The chain was there one moment, and the next it was gone. I looked at the empty ring for a moment, stunned at what I saw, and then turned to sit back down. I could now free a specific boat and create light. I smiled. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something.
I looked on the face of a stunned Mister Ali. “How did you do that?” he whispered.
I smiled. “You told me to free us.” I felt pleased that I did it, but Mister Ali’s response started to make me feel a little uncomfortable that it was so easy. What was I missing? Was Mister Ali alarmed at what I did? What was Mister Ali trying to tell me that I didn't know? Could I end up hurting us by taking short cuts? Despite my success, I considered what I had just done and promised myself to listen to Mister Ali more and my instincts less.
Mister Ali shook his head. His voice was full of awe as he replied, “I expected you to labor over the runes for hours and, even then, I expected us to struggle with nothing more than partially opened links or even a damaged boat." He helped me back to my seat, and I heard him whisper, "I haven’t seen such a keen connection to the staff since…” Mister Ali stopped. I had the feeling he wanted to continue but perhaps felt it unwise.
Impressing Mister Ali erased my earlier hesitation. I was a natural! I sat down facing the front of the boat, my back to the tunnel, wondering what else I could do with the staff. Mister Ali faced me from his seat on the plank in the middle. He was quiet, so I asked, “What do we do next?”
