The Black Reckoning

by John Stephens

  Gabriel landed a kick in the man’s middle, which felt like kicking stone.

  “But your little Emma is quite the wonder,” the giant went on, unfazed. “My master sees in her an anger that could tear apart the world.”

  Gabriel blocked one of Rourke’s knives, but felt the other draw a hot, bloody line across his forearm.

  “Wouldn’t that be a magnificent end to the story? The child you work so hard to save destroys us all and herself in the bargain. Could it be your wizard has the same idea? Perhaps we should be allies after all.”

  With a cry, Gabriel brought down his sword with all his strength. Rourke caught the blade in the V of his raised knives.

  “I think, lad, you must be your own particular kind of fool.”

  He wrenched the sword out of Gabriel’s hands and flung it across the courtyard. He moved in, and Gabriel spoke for the first time.

  “There are many types of fool,” he said, and ducked.

  Rourke turned just in time to see the dragon’s great mailed tail as it swung about and knocked him through the wall of the fortress. Gabriel had seen the dragon over Rourke’s shoulder and read her intention, and now he watched as Rourke tumbled down the escarpment and out of sight. He turned to the golden dragon.

  “Thank you.”

  The dragon rumbled an acknowledgment, then spun around to roast a troop of Screechers behind her. Gabriel looked for his sword and, with some surprise, found it at his feet. He seized it, then took quick stock of the situation in the courtyard. Only a handful of the enemy remained, but it would not be long till reinforcements arrived from the valley. Or the Dire Magnus broke free from his makeshift prison. The time to leave was now.

  But, unable to help himself, Gabriel looked at Emma’s small form slumped in the chair and his mind went to what Rourke had said:

  An anger that could tear apart the world.

  What were they doing to her?

  —

  It was gone. Whatever the thing was that had been taken from her had been drawn into the fire. And then to where? All she knew was that it was somewhere else, somewhere impossibly far away. And perhaps gone was the wrong word, as she could still feel it. Like she was flying a kite on a very, very, very long string.

  But the farther away the thing had drifted, the fainter the connection had become, the thinner the cord bonding her to it, and now the slightest movement or jarring threatened to sever the bond completely.

  What was it that had been taken from her? She still didn’t know. She felt so cold and empty, as if she were a glass shell that might shatter at the slightest touch.

  Michael was kneeling beside her, that red book of his open on his thighs. Flames appeared over the surface of the book, and there was a sharp snap on the cord that connected her to that lost and distant part of herself, and she could feel Michael trying to reel it back in. Only it didn’t want to come.

  She heard him shouting to Dr. Pym that it wasn’t working, that he needed help.

  Suddenly Gabriel was beside her, his face bloody and urgent, and at the sight of him, Emma’s heart swelled in her chest, telling her that she wasn’t hollow after all. If she hadn’t felt so weak, she would’ve leapt into his arms.

  “We must leave now!” he said to the wizard. “While we can.”

  But Michael was arguing, saying that he still hadn’t brought back her spirit. Her spirit? Was that what had been taken from her?

  Then Dr. Pym opened his mouth to speak, but the explosion cut him off.

  Emma scarcely felt it, for she had realized that that missing part of her hadn’t just drifted away; there was something out there, pulling it on.

  And she knew what that something was.

  She felt the world around her falling away, and then, following some instinct—or was it her spirit, sending her a message down the cord that still connected them?—she closed her eyes.

  —

  For a few moments, all Michael could hear was a ringing in his head.

  When the smoke and dust had cleared, he looked up.

  He saw the golden dragon flying toward the figure of the Dire Magnus, who was emerging, seemingly unscathed, from the smoke and fire—

  He saw the boy sorcerer wave his hand and the dragon turn upon Wallace—

  He saw the blast of white flame that engulfed the dwarf—

  He saw Captain Anton leap away from the jet of flame aimed at him.

  Michael closed his eyes, choking on the dust, and when he looked again, the elf was astride the dragon with a rope lashed about her neck, the dragon bucking and twisting in the air, trying to dislodge her rider—

  He saw Wallace’s ax on the ground, black and smoking—

  He saw Dr. Pym nod at Gabriel and walk out to meet the Dire Magnus—

  It was then that Michael’s hearing began to return, and the first thing he heard was his own voice, shouting the wizard’s name, but the wizard did not turn back.

  A wind that had nothing to do with the storm overhead had sprung up in the courtyard. It swirled about, dispelling the mustard-colored smoke from the dissolving bodies of the morum cadi, lashing Michael’s cheek with small sticks and bits of stone, and creating a cyclone around Dr. Pym and the dark-haired boy.

  “What’s he doing?!” Michael shouted.

  But Gabriel was standing still as a statue and said nothing, and Michael watched as the old wizard and the dark-haired boy came face to face, the tornado tightening around them, and Michael lost sight of them in the whirl of dust and debris, though it seemed to him that they were lifted up into the air. He saw the golden dragon and her rider caught by the cyclone, spun about and thrown away, cartwheeling into the night. In the corner of his vision, Michael saw the courtyard doors burst open as Rourke charged in at the head of a horde of Screechers, then stopped, held in check by the tornado. Suddenly, anything that was not stone was lifted into the air, and Michael closed his eyes as Gabriel threw his body over him and Emma, anchoring them to the ground.

  Then a voice was shouting his name, and Michael knew that something was wrong with his hearing, for he couldn’t actually be hearing the voice.

  “Michael!”

  He opened his eyes into the swirling wind and saw Kate standing there, gripping his hand. Gabriel held Emma in his arms, and Kate was reaching toward him.

  “We have to leave! Now!”

  “No!”

  “Yes! We—”

  “No! Wait!”

  He had to try, once more, to call back Emma’s spirit, and he opened the book, placed his hand on the page—

  But then the wind stopped, all was still, and Michael, unable not to, turned and saw the Dire Magnus standing in the center of the courtyard, his hand resting on the shoulder of Dr. Pym, who was slumped forward, head down, on his knees.

  “If you leave,” he said, “the wizard dies.”

  —

  It was like being in a dream.

  Emma knew that her body was back in the courtyard, with Michael and Gabriel at her side. But her spirit was here, wherever here was, and she was seeing what it saw. She was flying over a land of smoke and fire, being pulled onward by the same inexorable force as before.

  She felt a shiver of terror: Was this what happened after you died? Had she died? What if she couldn’t get back?

  Then she was soaring up the face of an enormous cliff, moving faster and faster, and the question was forgotten.

  She saw a creature, perched on the cliff, turning to look at her; the creature had the body of a man, but the face and head of a great black bird, and then she was past it, moving through darkness, picking up even more speed. It was here, the thing that was calling her, pulling her on—the book.

  She reached out with ghostly fingers. She was so close—

  And then the cord tying her to her body, now worlds away, snapped taut—

  —

  The courtyard was still.

  Rafe stood with his hand on the wizard’s shoulder, smiling.

  “Kate, it’
s really you—”

  “Don’t!” Kate could feel tears burning her eyes. “Don’t do that!”

  Don’t act like you’re you, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t, for he was Rafe, exactly Rafe, exactly as she remembered, exactly as she’d seen him only moments before. And seeing him, hearing him, her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She told herself that if only she’d had more time to prepare, she could’ve been ready for this. But one second she’d been standing in the Garden, calling on the magic of the Atlas, and the next she was here, amid the chaos, Emma slumped beside her, Michael frantic, Wallace and Wilamena and Captain Anton nowhere to be seen, Dr. Pym on his knees, Rafe standing there, looking at her—

  And truthfully, no amount of time could’ve prepared her.

  “Kate!” Michael’s face was covered in sweat; his voice and body trembled. He slammed shut the red book; its fire went out. “I did it! I brought her spirit back!”

  What was he talking about? Brought her spirit back from where?

  “We can go,” Michael hissed. “Now!”

  “Kate.” Rafe’s voice pulled at her. “The wizard is your enemy. Not me. Did he promise that if you find the Books, you’ll defeat me and be reunited with your parents? It’s not true. The prophecy says that the Keepers will find the Books and bring them together, but it also says that the Keepers will die. Pym knows this; he’s always known it. To destroy me, he’s willing to sacrifice you and your brother and sister.”

  Kate’s eyes whipped again to Michael. Was this what their father had meant when he’d warned Michael not to let Dr. Pym bring all three Books together? She felt a nauseous lurch in her stomach. But it couldn’t be true! Dr. Pym wouldn’t have lied to them! Not about that!

  “I can promise you what the wizard never could. Life. Kate, help me—”

  “Lies…”

  Dr. Pym had raised his head. His face was ravaged with pain, the whites of his eyes shot through with blood, his voice weak and hurried.

  “Yes, the prophecy foretells the deaths of the Keepers, but there is a way that you and your brother and sister can survive. You must—”

  He groaned and pitched forward.

  Rafe shook his head. “See? He even admits lying. Trust me, Kate! Please!”

  Kate’s breath was coming fast and shallow, and she felt like the earth had shifted under her feet. She knew she should just take her brother and sister and Gabriel and escape.

  “Kate…”

  Emma had struggled back to consciousness.

  “I can find it, Kate. I can find the book. I can feel it.”

  Kate grabbed her sister’s hand and tried to calm herself, to think. If she left, Dr. Pym was as good as dead. However much the boy looked like Rafe, he was the Dire Magnus, and he would kill the wizard.

  But if she stayed, she would be dooming them all. And there was no reason to stay! Dr. Pym had lied to them; he’d said so himself! She owed him nothing!

  Then she looked across at the wizard, his thin shoulders and white hair, the ripped tweed suit; she saw his glasses on the stones before him, one lens now shattered; and she knew if not what to do, then the one thing she couldn’t do. For whatever Dr. Pym might’ve lied about or hidden from them, Kate knew what love felt like, and she knew the wizard loved her and her brother and sister. She couldn’t leave him here to die.

  She gripped Emma’s hand and took a deep breath.

  “Let Dr. Pym go.”

  The dark-haired boy shook his head. “You have to choose who you believe.” The courtyard became even more still and quiet, and it seemed that everyone else faded away, and there was only her and Rafe. “I’ve been waiting for you such a long time.”

  And he was Rafe, she saw that now; he was not the Dire Magnus, not her enemy; he was the boy she’d danced with on the street in New York, who’d held her hand, who’d saved her life….

  She took a step forward.

  “No.”

  The wizard’s voice broke the spell. Kate saw that Dr. Pym’s hands, his arms—his whole body—was beginning to shimmer.

  “Go,” he said, looking up to meet her gaze. “Find the last book. It is the only hope for defeating him. I swear to you, there is a way to survive. The prophecy is incomplete. There is more to it than you know. More than even I know.” He gripped Rafe’s arm as the light coming from him grew brighter. It was as if every atom of the wizard’s body was turning into an atom of light, streaming away behind him, and Rafe was caught in its wake.

  “I’m sorry I cannot guide you. But know that I will always be with you.”

  Kate felt dread building in her chest; something terrible was about to happen, but she didn’t know what, or how to stop it.

  “I won’t leave you!”

  “I know,” the wizard said. “That is what he is counting on.”

  Kate could see a black cloud pulsing about Rafe; the darkness seemed to be pressing back against the light pouring from the wizard, fighting it.

  “Foolish old man,” Rafe’s voice was tense with effort. “Destroying yourself will accomplish nothing.”

  Dr. Pym paid him no mind, but kept his eyes fixed on Kate.

  “And I have owed the universe a death for many years. It is past time I paid my debt. Now go.”

  Kate’s scream was cut off as time snapped forward, and the light streaming from the wizard gathered itself and exploded backward, blasting the boy out into the night, and the entire half of the courtyard, the fortress, gave way, tumbling into the valley in a great, crashing roar.

  Kate stared in disbelief. In the moment before the explosion, the wizard’s body had changed entirely into light and energy. He was gone.

  Then Rourke rushed forward, the horde at his heels, and Kate gripped her brother’s and sister’s hands, closed her eyes, and felt the ground vanish beneath her feet. A second later, she dropped to her knees on the soft, wet earth. The night around them was silent and still, and a sob of pain broke from her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The New World

  Kate opened her eyes feeling as if she had not slept at all, though she knew she must’ve, for it was now light, just barely light, just the gray beginnings of morning. The ground she was lying on was damp, as were her clothes, the early-morning mist having gathered and thickened while she slept.

  She saw that she was alone and stepped out of the hollowedout nook in the hillside where she and Michael and Emma had slept. She saw a country of rugged, treeless hills that fell down to narrow silver-blue lakes. She could see no town or city or houses. There were no roads or train tracks. No columns of smoke telling of hidden chimneys. The land was deserted.

  Standing there, Kate allowed herself to think back to the night before. Not to what had happened in the fortress, but afterward, when they’d arrived here, wherever here was. There had been tears and embraces, Emma clinging to Kate, Kate clinging to Emma, Emma seizing Michael around the neck and wrenching him into a three-way embrace, Emma saying how she’d heard Kate calling to her just before she’d been kidnapped and had known she wasn’t dead, known that sooner or later her sister would rescue her, telling them she wasn’t hurt, she was fine, really—

  Kate stopped herself. She could feel the black cloud of the night before yearning to envelop her. She had to focus on the here and now.

  Michael was sitting a few yards away. He had his journal propped up against his knees and was writing quickly, his face close to the page. As she walked over, Michael capped his pen and slid it and his notebook into his bag. He didn’t seem surprised when Kate hugged him.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  They were keeping their voices low, as if not wanting to disturb the stillness of the morning. Michael gestured to a flat rock beside him.

  “I’m afraid this is all I had with me.”

  On the rock were four small, neat piles of nuts and dried fruits. Kate recognized the “emergency rations” that he kept in his bag, and she felt herself smile. Despite how much he had c
hanged, Michael was still the person he always had been: prepared, organized, meticulous, and unashamed of it, certain that those qualities would pay off in the end, as they always did.

  She picked up a few almonds and ate them. They were hard and crunchy, and she swallowed dryly, wishing she had water.

  “Where’re Emma and Gabriel?”

  “They went to try and figure out where we are. Maybe find some food.”

  “You could have woken me.”

  “Gabriel said not to. He said you needed the rest.”

  The night before, after their first moments of reunion had passed, they’d discussed returning immediately to Loris and the Rose Citadel—escaping from the Dire Magnus’s fortress, Kate had, in fact, told the Atlas to take them to Loris, only somehow they’d ended up instead in this strange, lonely place—but the days of Emma’s abduction and the confrontation in the fortress had taxed all of them to the limit, and Kate had felt her confidence in her power to command the Atlas shaken, so eventually, they’d decided to spend the night here, on this empty hillside.

  “Anyway,” Michael said, “this place isn’t quite as deserted as we thought. I saw some sheep over there. And there was this weird shaking or rumbling a while ago. At first, I thought it was a train, only it didn’t really feel like a train. Gabriel and Emma will find out what it is.”

  “How’d she seem to you?”

  Michael shrugged. “Okay. Kind of like always.”

  “But…”

  “It’s just…the Dire Magnus forced her spirit out of her body. I could feel it out there. And when I tried to pull it back, something pulled against me. I think it was the book. Her book. There’s no way all that didn’t affect her.”

  “We’ll just have to ask her when she gets back.”

  “And if she keeps saying she’s okay?”

  Kate shrugged.

  “If Dr. Pym were here,” Michael said, “we could ask him.”

  They had spoken a little about the wizard the night before. As Emma had been in and out of consciousness during their last moments in the fortress, Kate and Michael had had to tell her how Dr. Pym had sacrificed himself so that they could escape. They’d said nothing of the terrible truth the wizard had kept from them, how the prophecy foretold they would find the Books, bring them together, and then die. That revelation, she and Michael had agreed, could keep till they were all better rested.