The Black Reckoning

by John Stephens

  “You think I’m wasting time with her.”

  “My lord, I do not question—”

  “But you do.”

  Rourke took a breath, as if he were treading somewhere very dangerous and knew he had to be careful. “It is simply that the sooner we perform the Bonding, the sooner we will have the Reckoning. And forgive me, but I’ve had more opportunity to observe her. She is fiercely loyal to her friends and family. She will not betray them.”

  “That is just what I’m counting on.” The boy moved, allowing Rourke to see into the bowl. There was Emma, sitting in her cell, her back against the stone wall. Her head was down and her shoulders shook as if she were crying. “Anger is a dangerous thing. It can burn a person up, and hers burns very hot indeed. When she learns that Pym has planned the deaths of her and her brother and sister, when she feels the depths of that betrayal, it will burn even hotter.”

  Rourke looked confused. “And you think she will help us?”

  “Yes. Whether she knows it or not.”

  “So, you do not show her mercy because of the other girl, her sister—”

  The boy turned. Despite the apparent difference in ages, the difference in their sizes, the look in the boy’s eyes caused the giant man to take a step back, staggering, as if from a blow. The bald man bowed his head.

  “Forgive me.”

  “Go,” the boy said, and turned back to the bowl.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Council

  Kate didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Why didn’t Dr. Pym just ask if anyone had any information about Emma and be done with it?

  “War is upon us,” Dr. Pym was saying. “Since last night, refugees have been arriving at our port by the hundred, and every hour brings word of some town or village that has been attacked and destroyed. So far, Loris and the other islands of the Archipelago have been spared. But for how long? The enemy is coming. Yet we still have no idea where his army is based or how great a force he actually commands—we must work together or we will all perish.

  “So please,” he said, “stop squabbling and behave.”

  They were sitting at a round table on an open terrace high up in the Rose Citadel. There were twelve of them in all: Kate; Michael; Dr. Pym; King Robbie; a red-bearded dwarf named Har-something; Wilamena; her father; a beautiful silver-haired elf lady; a bald-headed, white-bearded man named Captain Stefano who was apparently in command of the city guard; the stern witch from Vienna whose name turned out to be Magda von Klappen; a plump, green-robed wizard from China; and finally, a stocky, wild-haired man who, Michael had whispered, was named Hugo Algernon and was a friend of their parents and “a little crazy.”

  From where she sat, Kate could see the white rooftops of the town terracing down to the port, which was clogged, as Dr. Pym had said, with boats carrying refugees. Beyond that stretched the wide blue sweep of the sea. The sun hung at midday, and the air was hot and still and tinged with salt. Things had gotten off to a poor start when, half an hour after the meeting was scheduled to begin, there had still been no sign of the elves. By the time Wilamena; her father, King Bernard; and Lady Gwendolyn, the silver-haired elf, had finally stepped out onto the terrace, tempers were beginning to fray.

  “Nice of you to make the time,” Robbie McLaur had growled.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” King Bernard had said, not looking the least bit apologetic. He was tall and slim, had the same golden hair as his daughter, and his eyes—Kate had gotten a look at them when the elf king had taken her hand and bowed—were the dark blue that precedes the dawn. “Our boat only just arrived.”

  “And I wager you had to stop and get your hair done too,” Haraald, the red-bearded dwarf, had snickered. Together, he and King Robbie made up the dwarfish delegation.

  “Why yes!” Wilamena had said, and spun so that her hair flowed about in a shimmering golden arc. “Do you like it?”

  “Well, um, it’s, uh, very nice,” the dwarf had stammered, turning as red as his beard, before catching himself and snorting in annoyance. “Elfish piffle.”

  As Dr. Pym had welcomed everyone, Kate had glanced at Michael and seen that all the color had drained from his face. Clearly, Wilamena’s being there was a surprise. For Wilamena’s part, as soon as she’d taken her seat, she’d begun trying to catch Michael’s attention with a series of winks, waves, the sort of tongue clucks you might use to call a horse, and flamboyantly blown kisses.

  Michael had kept his focus steadfastly on the wizard.

  Dr. Pym had started by discussing the newest reports from around the globe, and Kate had found herself again thinking of Emma, wondering if she was scared, if she was cold or hungry, feeling again the dull, empty ache in her chest. How could she have failed her sister so badly? And how was it possible that she, who commanded the power of the Atlas, who could stop time, who could jump a thousand years into the past as quick as thought, was unable to find her? It didn’t seem right.

  She’d been called back to the conversation by the sounds of an argument.

  “Lady Gwendolyn,” Dr. Pym had said, “be reasonable—”

  “But a dwarf? Oh no, no, Doctor, I think not.”

  “Please understand,” King Bernard had said, gesturing about with a large peacock feather (where had that come from?). “We think dwarves are marvelous at certain things—pounding bits of metal with other bits of metal, getting insensibly drunk. But large-scale strategic thinking is not really a dwarf’s forte. Or small-scale strategic thinking, for that matter. Or, well, thinking—full stop.”

  Kate had leaned toward Michael. “What’s going on?”

  “Dr. Pym told them that he’s putting King Robbie in charge of the defense of Loris and the Archipelago, and the elves don’t like it. Typical.” Then he’d added, “Did you notice how Wilamena’s hair seems to have its own private breeze?”

  Kate had ignored this last, noting that it wasn’t just the elves who objected to King Robbie being in charge. Captain Stefano was purple-faced with fury, and Magda von Klappen, the Viennese witch, was leaning forward and rapping her knuckles on the table.

  “Pym, Captain Stefano has led the city guard for forty years! He should command the defense. And honestly, you can’t expect a witch or wizard to take orders from a dwarf!”

  “Exactly,” King Bernard had said. “Now, if he were giving counsel on belching—”

  “Listen here, blondie.” The dwarf king’s eyes were dark with anger. “I’ve been patient this far—”

  “ENOUGH!”

  And that was when Dr. Pym had admonished them for fighting, warning them what would happen if they didn’t band together, and Kate had begun to wonder how much longer they would bicker and dither before discussing the real reason they were all here: rescuing Emma.

  “Captain Stefano has put in great service over the years,” the wizard went on, “and we will need his help and expertise. But he has never actually fought a war; King Robbie has. Not to mention, I shall be working closely with King Robbie on all details of the defense. Does that satisfy everyone?”

  There was a general, if grudging, nodding.

  “In any case,” Dr. Pym said, “all this talk of war is mere preamble. It is my suspicion that these attacks, perhaps the Dire Magnus’s entire war, represent little more than an attempt to occupy us while he pursues his true purpose, namely, the recovery of the Reckoning.”

  A deep silence fell on the gathering. Kate could hear distant voices drifting upward from the town.

  Finally, she thought.

  “However,” Dr. Pym said, “I would first like to acknowledge the debt we owe to two of our company. Without their courage and sacrifice and steadfastness, the Chronicle and the Atlas would already be in the enemy’s hands and our cause lost. We owe them our most profound thanks.”

  Kate saw the whole Council, dwarves, elves, witches, and wizards, giving her and her brother small, deferential bows as Michael nodded and made “it’s no big deal” gestures.

 
“But our greatest challenge lies before us,” Dr. Pym said. “Five days ago, Katherine and Michael’s younger sister, Emma, who is destined to be the Keeper of the Reckoning, was kidnapped by the Dire Magnus. The Reckoning, as you all well know, is the Book of Death. Should it fall into the enemy’s hands, all our lives, indeed, the life of every being in both the magical and nonmagical worlds, is forfeit. It cannot—it must not happen.”

  “And how close to finding the Reckoning is Mr. Dark and Terrible?” asked Hugo Algernon. “Must be close or you wouldn’t have dragged me here to listen to you palaver and play referee to these dunderheads.” And he gestured to include pretty much everyone present.

  “I fear our enemy is very close. In fact—”

  “But perhaps you panic a bit too much, Doctor,” interrupted the plump Chinese wizard, stroking his long white beard as he spoke. “The Reckoning has not been seen in thousands of years, yes? What truly are the chances?”

  “Master Chu is right,” said Magda von Klappen. “The Reckoning has been missing since the fall of Rhakotis. I think it very unlikely the Dire Magnus will find it anytime soon. Even if he does possess the girl.”

  Dr. Pym shook his head. “Magda, you of all people should know that things have changed. The Atlas and the Chronicle have both been recovered. The Reckoning will sense this. It will attempt to reach out to its Keeper. Every moment she is in the Dire Magnus’s control, his chances of finding the book increase. And as you all must have noticed, he is not the same being we faced before. His power seems to have increased tenfold. He may have means of finding the book we cannot even imagine.”

  “Ha!” Hugo Algernon barked. “That shut you up, von Klapper. Congrats, Pym, that’s the least stupid thing you’ve said this century.”

  The dark-haired witch and Dr. Pym both ignored this, and Dr. Pym went on.

  “I know you’ve all had meetings with your various clans and subcouncils, and I am hoping that you are here to tell us that you have a lead on where the child is being held, that we have some clue that might help us forestall this catastrophe.”

  This was it. Kate held her breath and looked about the table.

  No one spoke.

  Then Haraald exploded, “Well, it’s not like they’d tell us if they did know!”

  He was glaring across at the elfish delegation.

  “And what precisely is that supposed to mean?” asked King Bernard.

  “Oh, so you’re saying that if the elves knew where this wee lass was being held, you wouldn’t try to get her and the Reckoning for yourselves? You could be sitting here now just to throw us off while your elf commandos or whatever are out grabbing her! Maybe that’s why you were late! Off making your secret plans!”

  “Now, brother,” King Robbie said, “there’s no proof of that.” But he was looking at the elves suspiciously.

  “Preposterous,” King Bernard sniffed. “It is well known that we care very little about such things. The same way dwarves care little about personal grooming or bodily cleanliness.”

  “If there’s anyone who’d like the Reckoning for themselves,” Hugo Algernon said, “she’s sitting right there.” And he jabbed a stubby finger at Magda von Klappen. “But she’ll be disappointed, ’cause last I heard, there’s no recipes for apple strudel in the Book of Death.”

  “Oh be quiet, you hairy fool,” the witch snapped. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Von Klapper, you’ve been obsessed with the Reckoning for decades, and everyone knows it.”

  “Of course I have. It must be found before it falls into the wrong hands.”

  “And I suppose that yours would be the right hands, would they? Ha!”

  “Tell me”—King Bernard leaned toward Robbie McLaur—“have you heard of this invention called shampoo?”

  “That’s it!” Robbie McLaur jumped up, pulling his ax from his belt. “I’ll part that pretty hair a’ yours right now!”

  “STOP IT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL?!”

  In the silence that followed this outburst, Kate just had time to realize that she was standing, that everyone was staring at her, and that it was she who had spoken. But by then, more words were pouring out of her.

  “Didn’t you hear Dr. Pym?! If you don’t work together, you’re going to die! And you know what, go ahead! Let the Dire Magnus kill you, I could care less! I’m here for my sister! She’s only twelve years old and he has her! And all I want to know is, can any of you tell me anything about where she is? Can you?! Can any of you help?”

  Wilamena was the first to speak. Her voice was gentle and surprisingly unsilly.

  “We just heard from the last of our scouts, the ones who left the night your sister was taken. They have found nothing.”

  “Nor have any of our colonies around the world detected any hint of her,” King Bernard said. “I am sorry.”

  “But someone”—Kate’s voice was cracking, and she could feel tears burning the corners of her eyes—“someone must’ve found something!”

  She looked at Robbie McLaur, but the dwarf king shook his head. “Haraald and I have just come from the dwarfish Council. Not a whisper.”

  Kate turned to Magda von Klappen and Master Chu. The witch shook her head, and Master Chu murmured, “Regrettable. Very regrettable,” and for a moment, he gave off stroking his beard.

  “Katherine—” Dr. Pym said.

  But Kate had heard enough. She turned and ran from the terrace.

  —

  She ended up in the Garden. She had not planned on going there. She had run from the Council blindly, knowing only that she had to get away, rushing down hallways and staircases as if she could somehow outrun the despair that was threatening to crush her.

  Then she charged out a door and came to a sudden halt.

  The day before, she’d seen only a small piece of greenery through the end of the tunnel. Now, up close, she was struck by the Garden’s size; it appeared to be more forest than garden, albeit one enclosed by the rose-colored walls of the Citadel. A path lay open before her, and Kate, still with no distinct plan in mind, began walking forward.

  Unlike the vegetation on the rest of the island, which was dry and Mediterranean, the Garden was lush, the trees and plants seemed to hum with life, and, strangely, Kate found that the farther she walked and the more the Garden closed in about her, the better and calmer she felt.

  Kate’s hand had found its way to the golden locket that hung from her neck, the one her mother had given her the night, more than ten years earlier, when their family had been separated. All her life, it had comforted Kate to worry the locket between her thumb and forefinger and recall memories of their parents and tell herself that if she just held on, if she kept Michael and Emma safe just a little bit longer, their family would be together once again.

  But as she delved farther into the Garden, Kate found herself thinking not of her parents, but of Rafe; in particular, of a dream she’d had the night before. In the dream, she’d been dancing with Rafe in the snow in New York. The thing was, it wasn’t just a dream. She and Rafe had danced in the snow, on New Year’s Eve, more than a hundred years in the past. Even now, she could recall the chill of the night air, she could feel Rafe’s arms around her, the warmth of his body, she could hear the thud of his heart as she lay her head against his chest. All of that had been in her dream. But there had been more: in the dream, Rafe had leaned down and whispered in her ear:

  I’ll never leave you.

  That hadn’t happened in real life. So why had her mind added it?

  And she was still wondering about that as she stepped out into a clearing.

  Before her stood a giant tree. The trunk was enormous, wide, and deeply ridged, a gray-brown contour of gullies and crevices, and as the tree climbed upward, it split again and again, sending out thick, knobby branches in all directions. Kate had seen bigger trees, just days before, in Antarctica; but this one was different. Those trees had just been trees; this one felt almost like a person. It had a pres
ence. And the tree seemed to be spreading its arms not just over the clearing but over the entire Garden, and beyond.

  Nor was that all; before the tree was a small, still, very dark pool. Kate tried to peer into it but could see nothing, as if the water itself were black.

  She realized then that all the time she’d been walking in the Garden, something had been drawing her forward; it had been the power she’d sensed the day before, and this place, the tree and pool, was the source. But how was that possible?

  Kate placed her hand against the ridged bark, closed her eyes, and felt the power humming through her. She suddenly had the thought that if she opened her eyes, she would see Rafe standing beside her, and she couldn’t tell if she was more scared that he would be there, or more scared that he wouldn’t be.

  “Katherine.”

  Kate opened her eyes and turned. Dr. Pym was stepping into the clearing. Rafe was nowhere to be seen.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  The old wizard came and sat on a large, flat stone near the base of the tree. He took out his pipe and began to pack it full of tobacco. “I want to apologize. That must have been disheartening. Remember, we’re dealing with centuries of suspicion, distrust, and prejudice between the magical races. Sometimes I fear that the Separation, in isolating them further, has only made matters worse.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled.”

  “On the contrary, I’m glad you did. It shocked them into acting like adults.” He had his pipe going and he blew out a cloud of bluish smoke. “But the reason I followed you was that we have not yet spoken of what happened in New York.”

  Dr. Pym gestured to a stone beside his. There were perhaps a dozen of them, spaced in a circle beneath the tree’s branches. Hesitating just a moment, Kate took a seat.

  “Of course, I know much of the story. I’ve had a hundred years to research it. I know of the children whose lives you saved; many of them grew up to be fine witches and wizards of my acquaintance. I know you met Henrietta Burke, such a fierce, proud woman. I’m glad you got to know her. I know too that you met the boy who became the Dire Magnus. But some details I have never been able to uncover. I would very much like to hear your side; also, I think speaking of it would do you good.”