The Specter Key

by Kaleb Nation

  Elspeth shouted, but Nim bit harder, and Elspeth’s fingers wrenched open in pain, the Key and her wand clattering to the bridge as she stumbled backward. She flailed, sending Nim flying, but Nim flew back, hissing in Elspeth’s face.

  Bran saw the Key as it struck the ground, and he dove for it, sliding across the hard stone and seizing it in his grasp. Elspeth threw Nim aside and dove for him, grabbing her wand as she moved and slinging it out. Bran got to his feet, and he stood on the opposite edge of the circular platform, clutching the Key as strongly as he could.

  “Give me the Key!” she commanded, her voice hoarse, wand outstretched.

  “I won’t,” Bran seethed. He stepped back again and found his shoe touching the edge of the platform. His hands had begun to shake as his fist clenched the Key, and he saw the Specters moving about so that they might see what was happening below. They were staring at him with a look of fear.

  “Give it to me,” Elspeth hissed. Bran looked at her and clenched his teeth together.

  “You will not have this Key,” he said in the strongest voice he had heard from himself, strengthened in power by the anger and hurt and torment in his soul. And then he drew his hand back as if he was going to toss it to her, but then he flung it forward, launching the Key into the air straight over Elspeth’s head toward the wall of the Specters.

  Time seemed to slow as they watched the Key flying forward; the Specters fought one another, their hands scratching against their prison as they reached for it. The Key struck the wall, and an explosion of magic filled the cave.

  Chapter 33

  The Pool of Life and Death

  The green, vaporous hands of the Specters burst through the wall the moment the Key touched their crystal prison, spilling out over one another. They all seemed to seize the Key at once, and the moment their hands touched it, their forms hardened and were laced with lines that crumbled back to the wall. The wall blasted out into tiny, crystalline pebbles that spilled like waves, clattering and filling the chamber with a deafening noise.

  Everything had gone into disarray, and then Bran realized what had happened: when he had thrown the Key to the Specters, somehow the power to control them had been passed into their command, and this was enough to free them from their prison. Their souls poured out and fell into the water like stones. But through the noise and the flashes, Bran heard a voice scream, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone struggling in the water. Though the water was dragging her down as it rocked tumultuously, Bran only needed a glimpse to know who it was.

  “Astara!” he shouted, so loudly that his voice echoed off the chamber ceiling, which had begun to crumble around them, stones raining down and smashing against the pillars, as if the room were falling apart. He dashed in her direction, ignoring Thomas as he called after him, and dove into the water.

  Immediately he was pulled under, as if hands had reached from the depths and wrapped themselves around his ankles. The water was so cold that it burned as he flailed his arms and legs, breaking the surface once and drawing in a deep gasp of air.

  “Bran!” He heard Astara call his name, and it was the most glorious sound he had heard, for she was real and only a few yards away. He called back at her, but she was pulled under the water again, so he dove down and kicked toward where he had seen her. The waters, though, were eager to fight him, bubbles swirling and blocking his view, even as the waves themselves seemed to glow. He saw a tremendous motion near the source of the light where stones were still tumbling into the water from the Specters’ prison. As the stones were engulfed, they turned once again into the forms of people—opening their eyes and their mouths in a wordless scream, before their bodies sank into the darkness and turned to pale, lifeless corpses, their faces filled with final peace, disappearing into the black embrace of whatever was at the bottom of the abyss.

  Lights flashed above the surface, and Bran could hear gunfire and magic. In one of the flashes he saw Astara ahead of him, her body unlike all the others: she flailed about, struggling to get back to the surface. He realized that she, unlike the Specters who had been cursed, had been taken alive, and through this she must have still had mortality, though they had been freed to die. Seeing this brought new strength and hope to Bran as he pushed toward her, his muscles burning with the effort as he moved inch by inch closer. He saw Astara begin to sink and felt his lungs scream for air.

  But he could not go back to the surface. He saw her falling deeper, like she was being pulled down with the corpses by the water. Her eyes met with his, and there was a moment of recognition, but her motions became slower, her body losing strength.

  Bran struggled all the more to reach her. Her eyes were beginning to close, the darkness swallowing her body. She was so close, and Bran fought terribly. But Astara was slipping away from him yet again.

  No! he thought frantically, watching her fade and feeling his air running out. As it did, his feelings burst within him, everything that he had put into saving her seeming to rush forth into powers that flew to his fingers, and he threw magic toward her, only making the waters even more turbulent. His mind clouded, and he could not think over the roaring pain his lungs brought forth. He kicked his legs frantically as her head tilted up to look at him from below.

  Her gaze had become serene, and she ceased to struggle. She stared at him with a blank expression on her face, but her hand moved forward, reaching to him, as if in her last bit of strength she might touch his.

  Don’t leave me…he thought, wishing that he could say the words aloud to her and that it might convince her to fight just a little longer, his fingers just inches from hers. The thought seemed to cross between them, magic pushing it to her mind so that she heard his voice in her head; her eyes opened a tiny bit more, and her hand reached further, and for a second, the ends of their fingers touched.

  Bran curled the ends of his against hers, linking them together by one small finger. It was enough, and all thoughts of their imminent death seemed to fade away into the murky water.

  Astara, though, closed her eyes, and Bran was suddenly pushed away from her by a mighty blast. He could feel that she was using her Netora powers to push him back to the surface, so that he might live though she hadn’t the strength to save herself. He felt her finger leave his, but in a burst he shot forward with powers of his own, his mind screaming that he would not let her die after all he had done to save her. He thrashed about and caught her arm strongly, and they were flying toward the surface together. Bran gathered whatever strength he had left and felt a burst of power to add to hers that pushed them through the heavy waters, the lights and the sounds growing as their strength faded, until they broke through the water’s surface and landed on the bridge.

  Bran heard a gasp but could not tell whether it was his own or if it came from Astara, who lay beside him, coughing and choking. He could not move, for the final small piece of magic he had used had sapped his last bit of strength. He could only feel his hand still clutching Astara’s, his mind not allowing him to let her go.

  “Bran!” he heard her gasp, rolling over the stone bridge, the sounds of the crumbling chamber blaring in their ears once more.

  “Breathe!” he commanded Astara, struggling to sit up so that he could lift her, ignoring the pain that wracked his own body. She choked the water free from her lungs, gripping him tightly as if the pool might draw her back if she let him go.

  Bran held her so she could breathe more easily, and he opened his mouth to say something to her, though he didn’t know what—but he was stopped by a massive boulder falling from the cave ceiling and smashing into the bridge just a few feet from his leg. The very cave had begun to tremble as if by an earthquake, and he saw Thomas fallen to the side, Elspeth finally escaping him at the other end of the bridge.

  “Bran!” he heard Thomas shout frantically, just as Elspeth stumbled forward at the bridge’s end, and he saw her seize something that
had fallen there.

  “She has the Key!” Thomas yelled, trying to stand. “Don’t let her get away!”

  Another boulder fell, snapping the bridge from its end. The gem in the handle of the Key was empty of its light and power, though a wild smile of victory crossed Elspeth’s face, and Bran realized that she still had some use for it.

  He got to his feet but was thrown down again by the impact of a rock larger than himself slamming into the ground. He was up again though, pulling Astara with him, and he saw his mother’s wand rolling toward the opposite edge. He held his hand out, and it flew to his grasp.

  Thomas was going for Elspeth. She saw them but seemed unconcerned and drew something from her coat, flinging it at the bridge before her. There was a dazzling flash of purple light, and smoke burst from it, swirling into an oval before her, with a black space in the middle. She leapt toward it, but Thomas had gotten to her in that same instant. She fought with him and broke free just as Bran and Astara drew near. She leapt through the smoke, and half of her disappeared through it, but Thomas grabbed hold of her arm, and seizing Bran with his other hand, the four of them tumbled through the portal, leaving the collapsing temple caves behind.

  The noise of the chamber vanished and was replaced with a blast of echoes. Bran rolled and looked up and saw that he was in a manufactured tunnel, and his back rested against something metal. It was train tracks.

  Elspeth’s magic had not thrown them far, as proved by the sign against the tunnel wall that said they were in the Subway Imperial, which ran through Dansby and Harrison until it stopped in Wadsworth farther north. Everything was dimly lit by fluorescent lights, but far ahead, Bran could see the platform, which appeared abandoned, for there were no people or voices coming from it. Everything was very dirty, and columns separated the sets of tracks. Just ahead, Bran saw Elspeth running from them.

  “Elspeth!” Thomas roared, and Bran heard a blast from a gun; Elspeth spun with her wand in a blur and sliced the bullet in half. She still clutched the Key in her hand, her eyes filled with rage and determination.

  “Do you dare fire upon me, Thomas?” she said. She lifted her wand, and a burst of fire blasted from it in an arc. Thomas leapt to the side behind a column, where the flame struck in a magnificent beam and broke tiles free. Bran covered his face with his arm as they shattered and tiny pieces shot in all directions, sizzling and burning where they hit. He had his wand up instinctively, and without even thinking, he seized the shards of the tiles with magic and sent them flying in a whirlwind toward Elspeth. Caught by surprise at Bran’s quick action, she barely had time to dive out of the way, the pieces slamming into others like them and cracking into dust as they collided.

  “Are you all right?” Bran demanded of Astara, pulling her up and diving behind a pillar with her as another blast of magic shot from Elspeth’s wand. Their reunion had been so short-lived, and it had hardly sunk in that she was there at his side.

  “I’m OK,” she coughed, struggling to stand but falling against the wall. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t explain it all now, as you can see,” Bran said, ducking as Thomas let off a barrage of shots in Elspeth’s direction. “But if we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you everything.”

  There was an explosion behind him, and the ground rocked at its impact.

  “Just don’t die again!” Bran shouted. “That’s all I’m asking. Stay here!”

  Astara was about to say something, but Bran did not wait to hear it, spinning around the corner with the wand and just in time, as something black came hurtling toward him and the pillar. A blue, transparent shield erupted in front of him, deflecting Elspeth’s blast into the side wall, drilling a hole and sending dust flying all over the tunnel.

  “What missiv is she?” Bran shouted, because Elspeth had used so many magics that he could not tell, though she obviously held a wand that bore many enchantments of its own. Bran dashed after her, and Elspeth moved from behind her cover, throwing her wand out again. Bran was caught unprepared and was seized from the ground by the power of her rage, his back slamming into the ceiling and knocking the air out of him. He drew his hand forward, and a shield appeared again, blocking Elspeth’s power momentarily so that he plummeted toward the ground—but landed on his feet in a crouch, the same way he had done with Astara off the water tower.

  There was the sound of a different gun, and Bran saw another figure had leapt off the subway platform ahead. It was Joris, and Bran realized that this escape had been in Elspeth’s plans all along, for she had had Joris waiting for her. He fired at Thomas, but when he leapt into the light he spotted Bran and turned the gun in his direction.

  Astara, though, had regained her senses and pushed beside Bran with her hands out, and a shield surrounded both of them, the bullet and the second that followed both ricocheting and striking the walls. Thomas seized his chance and let out a blast of shots, rattling all across the tunnel wildly. Joris fell behind a column, and as bullets tore at the concrete, Thomas shouted with rage as bits of it flew into the air.

  He ran out of ammunition and fell back again, flinging his backpack onto the ground and drawing out more bullets. Joris didn’t hesitate to fire, and a bullet grazed Thomas’s arm, sending him back against the wall with a painful shout.

  “Thomas!” Bran called, but he was alive, though bleeding from the gash that had torn through his jacket and shirt. Elspeth began to walk backward, closer to her escape, with Joris covering her with his gun and firing at Thomas, who was forced to remain behind the pillar, covering himself as debris flew in all directions. Bran managed to pull his arm around, readying the wand to blast at Joris, but before he could, there came a sound.

  “Stop!” a voice shouted with such power and command that both Elspeth and Joris faltered. All eyes turned toward the figure who had leapt from the platform and onto the tracks between Elspeth and Joris’s escape.

  It was the last person Bran had expected to appear from the shadows: Gary, his eyes blazing with anger. He stood strong and still, his gray coat swept over his legs. In his right hand, he clutched the key-ring map, wadded in his fist with the red mark glowing on the subway stop. And in his left hand, Gary held a golden wand at the ready, pointing straight at Elspeth’s heart.

  “Gary,” Elspeth spat at him in recognition.

  “Elspeth,” he hissed in return, his voice taking on a power that made his words echo in the tunnel. He lifted his wand higher. “You shall die here tonight.”

  Chapter 34

  The Key and the Train

  Gary’s command struck Elspeth as an insult, and she flinched.

  “You?” she shouted. “You dare to order what I shall do?”

  Gary’s wand did not waver; he held it resolutely, his expression unchanging. Her hands had begun to shake with sheer rage, and Bran, seeing her back turned to him, flipped his wand forward, but she was faster, turning once to deflect his magic and then flying toward Gary, her teeth bared in a wild hiss. Gary leapt to the side in a blur, springing to the wall and grabbing hold of the tiles with the ends of his fingers, using magic to cling with one hand like a spider and moving his wand to throw Elspeth to the opposite end of the tunnel.

  She did not stop, rebounding from the wall with a shriek. It was as if suddenly she was ignoring everyone else in the room but Gary, flying toward him as he leapt from the wall and rolled across the tracks, bending his wand behind him. There was a deafening crack, and Elspeth hit the wall, sliding to the ground.

  Joris chose this moment to open fire on Thomas once more, but Elspeth—every ounce of her attention on killing Gary—swung her arm, plucking Joris’s bullets straight from the air and launching them back in a circle toward Gary. He only had to draw his hands apart in a swift motion, and the bullets turned once again in a loop back toward Elspeth, forcing her to dive to the side. As she rolled, she shot a beam of fire from her wand, the heat so powerful that B
ran had to cover his face to keep from being burned. Joris dove out of the way of her magic, though Gary only drew the fire upward, where it stuck the ceiling.

  All of this happened so fast that Bran’s eyes could hardly register what he had seen. But then Bran heard a distant rumbling, a sound he recognized.

  “There’s a train coming!” Bran shouted, his voice barely audible over the noise of the fighting. He could hear it coming rapidly from the direction of Elspeth and Joris, but the fighting continued, magic and bullets tracing through the air, until Gary flew back against the wall again, and the lights of the train appeared at the corner.

  Elspeth, seeing that she must escape then, began to run to the platform, with Joris ahead of her. Gary, seeing Elspeth was about to escape, lifted both of his hands over his head and began to speak words of magic that Bran could not hear from where he stood. There came a great crashing and cracking over their heads, one that caused the tunnel to tremble. And then, as if Gary was prying them loose with his very hands, the tiles on the ceiling above Elspeth peeled loose, rolling toward her. They whirled like a tornado, dust and concrete and tile all coming together at once, the wind from it throwing Bran’s hair as the magic collided with Elspeth, throwing her to the ground.

  The tunnel was filled with smoke and dust, but Bran saw the Key clatter from Elspeth’s hand. He gasped as she fell and, without wasting another second, dashed to reach it. Thomas was going after Joris; Astara and Gary had vanished in the cloud of dust. Bran could hear the train rumbling toward them, its light flashing in his eyes, so he ran even faster.

  He was almost to the Key, but Elspeth slammed into his side and drove her elbow into his jaw. He was knocked sideways, tripping across a metal rail, falling to the tracks. He saw that Elspeth nearly had the Key and that Joris had reached the platform and was escaping.