The Specter Key

by Kaleb Nation

  “I’d do anything to get back the people I love,” Bran said. “It would hurt me far more to leave my friend to die and know there was a chance I might have done something.”

  “I loved your mother the same,” Gary said. “More than anyone ever did or ever will.” He wiped his eyes. “I know what love is. I have felt it. I have suffered from it. And you damn well better go after your friend before the same curse that took your mother from me also takes Astara from you.”

  His words held bitterness and pain but also the strongest resolve. Gary then held both of his hands out and took Bran’s hurt wrist between his own, drawing him closer. He had something in a bottle next to the couch, and he unwrapped the gauze around Bran’s injury, pouring the liquid over it. Bran jumped because it stung at first, but a second later his whole arm felt different, and he realized that whatever Gary had poured on him had healed it.

  “You had that all along?” Bran said with shock, turning his hand in circles.

  “I thought I might convince you to stay,” Gary said. “But I see now that you will not be deterred in freeing those bound by the Specter Key’s power.”

  “You know of the Specters?” Bran said.

  “Yes,” Gary nodded. “You know much of your mother’s crimes. Think to her greatest: the stealing of those innocents in the desert, those souls she used for the Curse. That Key binds the lock that holds their spirits imprisoned, and he who holds it holds the power of their souls.”

  “Can’t we destroy it?” Bran asked.

  “It’s protected by magic,” Gary replied.

  “Then why can’t I simply set them free?”

  “There is only one place for that to be done,” Gary said. “The door to their prison. I do not know how to get there, but the map from the Key will guide you through.”

  “I don’t have all the pieces,” Bran pointed out.

  “You will have two now, though.” Gary picked up his flute again and unscrewed the mouthpiece. What was left was a metal rod with intricate markings, and Bran knew what it was: for the other piece of the map.

  “This map,” Gary said, after putting ink on the flute and imprinting it onto paper, “is many centuries old and separated into four pieces so that only those deemed worthy might enter the ground. It was not done this way by anyone who was part of the Project but by those who built the place to which it leads.”

  He slid the paper into Bran’s fingers in a slow but deliberate motion. “A piece was hidden on the Key, another on the flute. I don’t know where the others ended up after the police discovered Baslyn’s plan, but I assume they are with those few who escaped. You must find your father, and he will take you and the Key to its door.”

  Bran looked down at the piece of the map in his hands and then back up at Gary.

  “Come with me,” Bran said, but Gary only shook his head.

  “I have not left this island since before your mother’s death,” he said. “I don’t have the strength to leave it now.”

  “Just come with me,” Bran said fervently. “You’ll be better once you are over her.”

  “Not yet,” Gary said. “But the day will come.”

  Bran took a deep breath. It pained him to see Gary’s eyes fill with tears again.

  “You should be off,” Gary said.

  “Thank you,” Bran replied. Gary only nodded. And Bran left him behind with the photos of Emry and set off to save Astara.

  Part III

  Chapter 27

  A Deal at the Roadside

  Oswald was waiting for Bran when he stepped through the gates.

  “I got Gary’s signal,” he said. The trip to the mainland was quiet, with only the rumblings of the car and the sounds of the water rushing by outside. When the cab finally came to the surface and drove up an abandoned side of the mainland, Bran asked Oswald to leave him at the nearest pay phone.

  They spotted one just a minute away, planted outside an old grocery store, and Bran bid Oswald farewell. He walked briskly to the phone, put his money in, and dialed the number for home.

  It rang many times before he finally heard the other line pick up.

  “Who’s this?” came the irritated voice of Sewey, by way of greeting.

  “Hello Sewey, it’s Bran,” he replied. “I’m going to the Jenkins Plaza Mall. I’ll be in the food court.”

  “What the rot?” Sewey spluttered. “What are you even talking about?”

  “The Jenkins Plaza Mall,” Bran said again. “Probably in about an hour. I’ll be sitting somewhere obvious, in the food court.”

  “Are you drunk, young man?” Sewey said with horror. “There isn’t a Jenkins Plaza Mall anywhere in Dunce. What is all this absurdity?”

  “The Jenkins Plaza Mall,” Bran said a third time, speaking very clearly. “That’s where I’m going. Good day, Sewey.”

  “The rot?” Sewey nearly screamed with confusion, but Bran hung the phone up before he could say anything else.

  He managed to catch a bus and cross a few miles into downtown East Dinsmore, using up nearly all of the little cash he had left on him. He got off at the intersection he had written down before leaving Gary’s house. From the corner he could see a sprawling parking lot covered with cars, and beyond that a great collection of buildings and shops. There was a sign at the entrance that read Jenkins Plaza Mall.

  He went under the concrete overpass that supported the highway crossing and walked across the lot to the entrance. People were strolling in and out of the mall in small crowds. It felt so odd being outside after being secluded in Gary’s house, and seeing other humans actually felt strange too. Bran tried to act natural—he only wanted to attract the attention of one person in particular. Nim stayed hidden as he passed through the doors.

  Two escalators and a towering map of the mall later, Bran found a seat in the food court, which was packed with children and their parents who were desperately trying to bribe them with food so they could shop in peace. Bran had gotten two sandwiches, resting one in front of the single, empty chair across from him. Both sat untouched as he stared off into the distance, waiting and watching.

  “You’re far smarter than you appear, Bran,” came a familiar voice not ten minutes later. Nim, who had been on Bran’s shoulder, was taken by surprise and fell, clinging to his shirt.

  “I’ve had practice,” Bran replied, not turning as Thomas passed him and slid into the seat across.

  “Perhaps it’s hereditary?” Thomas replied with his half-smile.

  “Don’t think so highly of yourself,” Bran said coldly. “I figured if you were smart enough you’d have my home phone lines tapped, and you’d be somewhere nearby.” Thomas’s eyes moved from Bran to Nim, and she clung tighter to Bran, afraid that he was going to take her. But he merely glanced at her and returned his gaze to Bran. Thomas was wearing a dirty jacket and jeans, blending in well; his eyes scanned the crowd of people around them, silently studying each of their faces, but he masked any unease he might have meeting Bran there.

  “I’m still curious as to why you would choose to bring me straight to you,” Thomas said. “I mean, it is altogether dangerous, considering how little trust you have of me.”

  “I don’t have any other choice,” Bran said. “I want to make a deal with you.”

  Thomas turned so that he could meet Bran’s eyes. “A deal, with me?”

  “Yes,” Bran said. “I know you want the Specter Key. I don’t know what for, and I don’t really care. But I’m willing to give it to you if you help me.”

  Thomas seemed only slightly shocked at Bran’s words, but even that little bit was enough to confirm in Bran’s mind that he had taken him by surprise.

  “Just like that?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes,” Bran said. “Like I said, I don’t have any other choice.”

  Bran reached into the front pocket of his luggage
bag and slid both tiny pieces of the map toward Thomas.

  “Ah, I see,” Thomas said, and he smirked.

  “Where does this point to?” Bran said. Thomas gently lifted the pieces of paper from the table and brought them closer, studying the markings even though they were still far too small to be read in that manner. He seemed to confirm whatever he was looking for, and he set it back again without comment.

  “Is this for me?” Thomas gestured to the sandwich and drink. Bran nodded, and Thomas started to eat. His father seemed to be pondering something as he ate, not meeting Bran’s eyes even once. He kept looking at Nim, and each time she moved to hide from his gaze, so that finally Bran moved her to his leg under the table and out of Thomas’s sight.

  “That map you have there,” Thomas finally said, still chewing, “shows part of a labyrinth inside a temple. I’ve never been inside of it, but your mother was there, a long time ago.”

  He reached for his drink, but it was only a cover for him to study Bran’s face for a reaction. Bran did not give him the satisfaction.

  “There’s a place in that temple,” Thomas went on, “where that Key you’ve got fits. We found out about it while studying the Fearum scrolls. There’s deep, ancient magic there, one of few places where such a power exists in this world. Your mother turned it into a prison for the souls.”

  He drew a slow drink through the straw. “The door has been secret for thousands of years: hence, the labyrinth and its traps and dead ends. You’ve got part of the map there. Each piece was kept in a different place.”

  “And who’s got the rest?” Bran asked. Thomas swallowed his food.

  “I’ve got it,” he said simply. “One of the pieces, at least. The last is with Elspeth.”

  Bran could not keep himself from sinking back into his chair bleakly.

  “Don’t do that now,” Thomas said. “You were doing well acting confident.”

  “I don’t know how I could go through a labyrinth this big with only part of a map,” Bran hissed, trying not to draw attention to them.

  “You wouldn’t stand a chance,” Thomas replied.

  “Then we’ll need the other piece,” Bran said.

  “That’s the only thing that really makes sense, isn’t it?” Thomas said, and he seemed so at ease with the situation that Bran was irritated.

  “Calm down,” Thomas said, and his voice was low but held warning. “You don’t want to bring attention to us.”

  “If we don’t have the rest of the map, then there’s no point in me making a deal with you,” Bran said under his breath. “And you know very well you can’t pry the Key from me.”

  “I have no intention to,” Thomas replied. “If we need the other half of the map, then we’re going to have to get it.”

  “Well, then,” Bran said, crossing his arms. “I’d very much like to hear your plan.”

  Thomas looked up at him with an amused expression. “I think it’s about time I give Elspeth a call.”

  ***

  Thomas chose to meet with Elspeth in the daylight, down a long, empty highway that cut through the grassy land outside the city. When Bran saw a black van rumbling down the road, he stiffened as he felt her presence getting nearer.

  “You’re sure this is safe?” Bran asked. Thomas was leaning against the back of the car and had donned a hat. He didn’t reply, as if that was enough to assure Bran, but turned and opened the trunk. From it he pulled the same music box that Bran had found in Nigel Ten.

  Before Bran could react, Thomas began to turn the wheel, and Nim immediately dashed toward it. The familiar song was hurtful for Bran to hear now that he knew who had written it. Nim’s eyes glowed green, and she looked to Thomas with a wild expression on her face.

  “What are you doing?” Bran hissed, stalking forward.

  “Wait, Bran,” Thomas said, holding up his hand. “Trust me on this one.”

  “You can’t just take her like that!” Bran said through clenched teeth, even as he heard the van door pop open.

  “Does she belong to you or to me?” Thomas asked. “Do you want to have this argument right here, or do you want to look to Elspeth like we’re a team?”

  Bran’s anger simmered. “I’m not on a team with you,” Bran said.

  “Then we’re simply enemies forced to work together,” Thomas said. “Whatever you want to call it, neither of us has a choice. And I know a bit of what I’m doing here.”

  Bran clenched his teeth together and stood silently, glancing at Nim.

  Elspeth wore a dark, new jacket that was clean and zipped up the front, and her jet black hair was loose—a single white streak played in the wind. Her eyes were so blue that Bran could see their color even in the dusk sunlight. She was stunning, but Bran felt nothing but deep loathing for this was the woman who had killed his mother.

  To Bran’s greatest surprise, when Elspeth appeared, Thomas’s fingers rolled up into fists before he relaxed them and returned to a calm pose. Nim rested on Thomas’s shoulder, and Bran sneaked a glance at her, but she did not even recognize him.

  “You presented me with an offer I could not refuse,” Elspeth said, giving Bran a glance and then turning her attention Thomas.

  “As are all my offers,” Thomas replied, with equal lack of feeling.

  “Then why waste time speaking more of it?” she said. “You know I want the Specter Key, and you know the only way I might obtain it.”

  “And you have something that we want,” Thomas said.

  “I do have it,” Elspeth said. “An exchange, then? Mine for yours? Willingly.”

  She looked to Bran, and Bran nodded slowly, saying nothing as Thomas had instructed him.

  “Still, I think it’s only fair to ask for a bit of proof on your end,” Thomas said. Elspeth reached into the hidden pocket of her jacket, drawing forth a single, tiny slip of withered paper. It was just as small as Bran’s pieces were, though older and bent at the ends. She held it up flat between her fingers, and Nim flew from Thomas’s shoulder, drawing closer so that she could examine it. Satisfied by whatever was there, she darted back to Thomas without a sound, and Elspeth hid the paper once more.

  “Happy?” Elspeth said.

  “Very,” Thomas replied with a smile.

  “I shall follow you to the location,” Elspeth said. “When we arrive, the three of us will go down into the temple together, and I will provide my part when it is needed in the labyrinth. After we reach the end, and you know my piece bears no counterfeit, you will willingly hand over the Key.”

  “Agreed,” Thomas said. And they were done. Elspeth said nothing more, turning and going back toward the van.

  “That wasn’t right,” Bran whispered to Thomas as they started to walk. “I only agreed if Astara is freed first, then she would have the Key.”

  “Just get in the car,” Thomas commanded under his breath. Bran obeyed, closing his door as Thomas smoothly started the engine. He checked the mirror to see if Elspeth was following and saw her still walking to her van. Thomas, however, did not wait, and began to roll forward.

  “Hold the wheel for a moment, will you Bran?” he asked, so Bran reached across and held it straight.

  “What are you doing?” Bran asked as Thomas reached around for something on the floor of the back. Bran managed to glance there and saw Thomas throw a blanket aside. Hidden underneath was the biggest gun Bran had ever seen. Before he could react, Thomas spun it over Bran’s head and aimed it out the driver’s side window.

  Something launched from the end of the giant gun, speeding like a football toward the black van behind them, and Thomas slammed on the gas, with Bran being unable to do anything but hold the wheel straight as best he could as a rattling explosion shook the road beneath them.

  Chapter 28

  The Eyes of Nim

  Thomas tossed the gun into the back seat an
d grabbed the wheel from Bran’s grasp, swerving the car and speeding off.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Bran demanded, his voice masked by the sound of the explosion still roaring around them.

  “Be quiet for one minute, Bran—I can’t see if she was hit or not,” Thomas hissed, turning quickly to get a better look.

  “See if she was hit?” Bran shouted. “She’s got the other piece of the map!”

  “Forget that for now,” Thomas said, spinning to face the road again. “Looks like she’s sent some trouble after us.”

  Bran spun to look out the back window, and he saw Elspeth’s gruner launch out of the smoke and raining gravel of the van’s wreckage. The creature had a hideous, slobbering look of rage, and it shot after them at a startling speed, its long claws scraping against the road.

  “Speed up!” Bran shouted, and Thomas gunned the engine, which spluttered as it strained to speeds it was hardly meant to handle. Even then the gruner still sped after them, the hairs on its back bristling and its teeth bared in a roar.

  “Hold the wheel again, Bran?” Thomas said.

  “No!”

  “Just hold it still,” Thomas said and let go. Bran had no other choice but to grab it and right the car. Thomas reached down between the seats and produced a large handgun. He poked his head out the window again, taking shots at the gruner. He missed the first few because the car was swerving, but then the bullets began to strike the creature. It tripped and slid but was back on its feet in less than a second, even more incited and faster than before.

  “Cars are coming!” Bran shouted, trying to hold the wheel.

  “You’re doing fine,” Thomas said. “Just ease us a little more into our lane. They’ll get out of the way.”