by Ted Sanders
These sights and sounds were recent, too. Baron hadn’t seen them, she thought, but had definitely smelled them. Baron swung his head and looked back at the rear of the barn, and she grasped that Brian and Joshua had gone that way. And now she heard voices talking low. Whispers.
“They made it to the barn,” she reported. “They’re hiding, I think.”
“It’s clear, then?” Gabriel asked.
“I smell brimstone. But it’s everywhere. I don’t see anyone.”
“Chloe has the golem’s ring. She’ll help Horace. Go to Brian and Joshua. Be their eyes and ears. It won’t be safe in here soon.”
“What about you? What about Mr. Meister?”
“He hasn’t arrived yet.”
That was worrying. Mr. Meister was supposed to be traveling right behind her. He should have come through the last falkrete a minute or two ago.
“Help them,” said Gabriel. “We’ll find you.”
April nodded weakly—and she didn’t know if Gabriel could read the doubt and worry on her face, but suddenly he spoke words that she hadn’t even been aware she needed to hear.
“I will not leave without you, April,” he said solemnly.
April nodded again. Firmly this time. Joshua and Brian needed her. Everything would be okay.
She stepped out of the humour. Through Baron’s eyes, she watched herself emerge out of nothingness into the dark night. Her own girlish scent flooded her nose. And there Baron was, frisking and wagging his tail at her, flooded with a happiness that almost brought her to her knees. He wiggled so hard it made his wounded ribs ache—and hers too—but he didn’t mind. And neither did she.
She sank to her knees, burying her face in his fur. “Good boy,” she said, her own too-high voice looping through her ears. “I’m sorry I left you. Good boy.” He licked her face. She felt it from both ends—the rough tongue on her cheek, the taste of her own sweat.
She struggled to her feet, still clinging to Baron’s fur. “Come on,” she said. “Friends.” He gave a single, sharp bark of agreement, making her throat jump.
She strode across the grass toward the barn, Baron at her side. As they came closer, they crossed the scent trail of Joshua and Brian. The dog’s nose was so sensitive, she could even tell which direction they’d been traveling—the trail was ever so faintly stronger in one direction than the other. Thanks to Baron, she could still hear them whispering. And now she heard another voice too—tinny in her own ears, but loud and clear in Baron’s.
“Horace! Horace!”
April spun around. Chloe, somewhere out past the unseeable humour. April’s eyes wouldn’t fix on anything, but above the wrinkle of the humour, she thought she saw the top of a dark tower, looming over the meadow. The golem?
Baron was watching too. He let loose a little whine bark, tickling her throat. He was worried.
“It’s okay,” she murmured softly. “Chloe has it under control.” Saying the words didn’t help her feel any better.
She kept on. She crept in under the collapsing eaves at the back of the big barn. Lots of insects here, and more. Spiders. Lots of them. She didn’t mind spiders—she admired them, actually. But now that the Ravenvine was repaired, she sensed them in a whole new way, reminded that they weren’t insects at all. Insects were mostly oblivious to human activity, but the spiders here in the barn were much more . . . aware. Wolf spiders, probably. And with a start, she realized they could actually hear her. Not with ears, exactly—spiders didn’t have ears. But they were hearing her footsteps, vibrations in the air felt through the hairs on their bodies, their legs. It tickled her as she walked. She suddenly felt very loud.
She tried to shake it off, letting Baron’s mind wash the spiders out. Through him—through the vine—the whispers coming from up ahead were plainly audible now, the words clear.
“They’re coming closer,” she heard Joshua say. He was definitely frightened.
“Open a portal,” said Brian. “Get us out.”
She opened her mouth. “It’s me,” she said. “April.”
She still couldn’t see them, but she knew right where they were. She knew the barn well—here at the back end, there were stables and storage rooms, grain bins and pens. Some walls were broken open or collapsed, while some corridors were blocked by fallen timber, so this end of the barn was a bit of a labyrinth. She passed through a crooked doorway into a leaning hallway lined with narrow stalls. Baron swept past her, tail wagging madly, and trotted into the first stall—right over to the boys, who were cowering against the cobwebby, broken slats of the far wall. Tunraden lay on the lumpy ground in front of Brian, looking monstrously out of place. A faint blue orb was floating near Joshua’s head, shining and casting crisp shadows. April nearly gasped at the sight of it—a tiny, perfect earth. The Laithe of Teneves.
“Oh, thank my dry pants,” said Brian when he saw her. “We thought you were the Riven.”
“I don’t want to take that as a compliment, but it’s nice to be scary for a change.”
Joshua stood up, facing April like a schoolboy who’d done something bad. “Did you find Horace?”
“In a way. The golem caught him. But Chloe is going to save him, don’t worry. Gabriel sent me to find you guys.”
“I’m sorry,” Joshua said stiffly.
April’s heart broke a little for him. She wrapped him in a hug. His posture was as stiff as his words. “Don’t be sorry,” she told him. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a Keeper now.”
Joshua looked away.
“I’m sorry too,” Brian said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Isabel forced you,” April said. “You didn’t have a choice.”
Now it was Brian’s turn to look away. What exactly had happened here tonight?
“Where is Isabel, anyway?” April asked. “I smelled her outside—or Baron did.”
“She was in the humour, fighting with Ingrid,” Joshua said. “Dr. Jericho ate Mirabel.”
April shook her head. “Wait . . . what?”
“Ate it,” said Brian. “Swallowed it. It’s gone.”
“But Isabel’s alive?”
“Last time I checked,” said Brian. “I was about to—” He shook his head, looking guilty and confused. “She’ll be fine. But you said Chloe was going to save Horace. How?”
“Chloe was looking for a ring,” said Joshua.
“The golem’s ring,” said April. “The golem has Horace. Chloe’s trying to save him. But what about the Riven? How many are there?”
“We only saw Dr. Jericho,” said Joshua.
April frowned. Horace had reported seeing lots of Riven, and Baron’s nose seemed to confirm that Dr. Jericho wasn’t alone. But where, then, were the others?
“I am in way over my head,” Brian muttered, watching her. “Aren’t you?”
“I can swim,” April told him. “And so can you. Gabriel sent me to find you, to be your eyes and ears. He’s got his hands full in the humour, but he said he’d come for us.”
“He will,” said Joshua firmly. “And Chloe will rescue Horace. And then I’ll open the Laithe so we can escape—all of us.”
April rubbed his head. “I know you will,” she told the boy. Horace had seen it happen, after all. “I know you will.”
The ground shook slightly, startling her. A huge rumbling erupted far out in the meadow, beyond the humour. Joshua flinched and put his hands over his ears. April forced herself not to cringe in pain. It was loud in her own ears, and through the vine—through Baron—it was a rocket blast. It had to be the golem. Baron danced in place, excited and terrified. April bore the clamor as best she could, and in the midst of it, she heard a tiny voice cry out.
“I think I just heard Chloe,” she said. “Calling for Horace again.”
As quickly as it had come, the clamor died down. Silence returned.
“The golem has them both now,” Brian groaned. “We’re screwed.”
But April could hear faint voices out i
n the meadow. Chloe for sure, and . . . was that Horace? “Chloe can’t be caught,” said April. “And anyway, I think I hear her.” She frowned and cocked her head to hear better—pointless, since she was using Baron’s ears now and not her own.
Abruptly, a new shiver of alarm coursed through her. Her throat rumbled as Baron began to growl. He growled not out into the meadow, toward the golem, but deeper into the barn, toward the front, where—beyond the half-collapsed labyrinth of the barn’s back end—a wide-open loft soared high and the barn’s crooked front door stood jammed slightly open. Open enough for a human to get out, or a dog. Open just enough for a Mordin to get in.
She felt pain inside her nose. A stinging that came as a surprise. This was Baron’s pain, but instead of running away from the sulfurous stench, the dog hurried toward it, his hackles rising, still growling low. She hissed at him, but he ignored her, disappearing into the deeps of the barn, headed for the front.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Joshua.
“Brimstone,” April whispered. There were Riven inside the barn, coming from the other side, opposite the way she’d just come in. “We’re not alone in here. Be quiet.”
Joshua’s eyes got wide and watery. “What are we going to do?” he whispered.
April shook her head. She couldn’t leave Baron—he was her eyes and ears—but obviously couldn’t leave the boys either. Or maybe she should. If they all just sat here, they were sure to be found. If they went back out the rear of the barn, they risked the golem. But April alone had the power to track and avoid the Riven in the darkness of the barn. Maybe she could lure the Riven away, keeping the boys safe, and find a way back here with Baron. Above all, she knew she had to keep Brian and Joshua safe.
“Don’t move,” she told them. “I’m going to distract them. I’ll be back when I can.” She glanced at the gleaming blue Laithe. “Keep it covered. Stay dark.” And then without waiting for an answer, she slipped into the shadows after Baron.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Sky Falling
JOSHUA WATCHED AS APRIL LEFT THEM, TIPTOEING AFTER Baron. She vanished into the maze of the dark barn before he could stop her. He could smell the brimstone now too. He grabbed the Laithe and buried its dim light in his arms. He dropped into the corner beside Brian.
“I’m scared,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” said Brian, his knees snugged to his chest. “I won’t be if you won’t be. Quiet now.”
Joshua tried to be as quiet as he knew how. He got so quiet he could hear his own blood, sloshing through his ears. Maybe the leestone Brian had repaired would protect them. It didn’t work against Dr. Jericho, no, but Dr. Jericho had been watching them all along. Now they were hidden. Maybe the leestone would help them stay that way.
Seconds passed. And then a terrible sound crept out of the shadows. A hollow grinding sound, long and slow, rattling in Joshua’s teeth. Something sharp being dragged through wood. A nail. A claw. And now a footstep, far too heavy to be human. Another, not twenty feet away, inside the barn. The rotten-egg smell of brimstone burned in his nostrils.
A Mordin appeared at the entrance to the stall, stooped over beneath the low ceiling like some nightmare dinosaur, like the skeleton of a raptor. Its knuckles dragged on the ground. Joshua held his breath, hugging the Laithe of Teneves hard. For a split second, he thought the Mordin would pass them by, but then it paused at the opening, took a half step back, and sniffed the air. Once. Twice. Long, rumbling sniffs. It turned its head.
Suddenly Baron began to bark, out on the front side of the barn. The Mordin spun around. In the same instant, from the opposite direction, a huge crack! pounded the air. The Mordin went flying like it had been hit by an invisible train.
“Whoa!” cried Brian.
Joshua knew that sound. It was the weapon he’d seen Mr. Meister use once before, on the riverbank. Sure enough, Mr. Meister himself came sprinting into the stall a moment later, his brilliant white jithandra hanging from his neck.
“Keepers,” he said breathlessly. “Gabriel told me I would find you here. Are you quite all right?”
Joshua nodded, shielding his eyes, not too stunned to notice that Mr. Meister had called him Keeper. And Mr. Meister wasn’t alone. Isabel stood behind him, looking miserable. Sad, or mad, or both. She held something in her hands—a small white circle laced with glittering strings.
Brian stood up, looking worried. “I’ve been rather dumb,” he said.
“Agreed,” said Mr. Meister, “but no doubt brave too. Where is April?”
“She went after Baron,” said Joshua, pointing deeper into the barn. “Her dog.”
“Was she using the Ravenvine?”
“I think so.”
Mr. Meister frowned. “If Dr. Jericho senses her, I fear he may go after her.”
“But Dr. Jericho was pinned, inside the humour,” Brian said.
Mr. Meister shook his head. “No longer. Chloe was—”
Abruptly, the rotting wall of the little room exploded into splinters. A Mordin burst in, bellowing angrily. It knocked Mr. Meister to the ground and then swiped at Brian, grabbing him by the leg. It lifted him into the air. It grasped one of Brian’s dangling arms as if it meant to tear Brian in two.
But then it stumbled, dropping Brian as it clutched at its head in obvious pain, crashing through what was left of the wall like a wrecking ball. Joshua dove out of the way. He looked over to see Isabel on her knees, fumbling with the white circle in her hands.
“It’s no good!” she cried. “I can’t cleave. I can only sever for a second.”
Joshua understood. She had a new harp—Mr. Meister must have brought her one. But it was weak. She couldn’t sever the Riven long enough to . . . well, to kill them. The Mordin shook his head groggily and started to rise, but Mr. Meister rolled over and fired his weapon again—something small and unseen in his hand. Joshua’s hair flew up as the blast zipped past him. It struck the Mordin head-on, throwing it back against a thick wooden beam. The beam cracked, buckling a little bit, and the Mordin fell limp to the ground in a shower of dust from above.
Mr. Meister stood, brushing off his vest. He turned to Isabel. “Find April. Bring her back. You owe her that, at least.”
Isabel frowned at him, but then nodded. She hurried off into the darks of the barn.
Brian struggled to his feet. “You brought her a new harp?”
“A weak one, yes,” Mr. Meister said. “Something that could be of use, but nothing that would be a danger. I thought it best to keep her close.”
“But how did you know that Miradel—”
“Horace saw Isabel through the Fel’Daera,” Mr. Meister explained. “He saw that something was amiss, that the wicker harp was gone. Before I came here, I dug through the pockets of my vest. It took me a while, but I found a suitable substitute.”
“Horace saw her before you came?” Brian said dreamily. He was clearly figuring something out, but Joshua didn’t have any idea what it was.
“Tell me, Keeper,” said Mr. Meister, leaning close to Brian, “how did you and Tunraden fare, attempting to fulfill Isabel’s wishes tonight?”
Brian opened his mouth, then shut it again. At last he said simply, “I was close. But that’s over now.”
“When I found Isabel in the humour, she told me about Dr. Jericho. About her harp’s demise. But when Horace first reported that the wicker harp was missing, I confess I rather wondered if . . .” He trailed off.
“If I had blown it up or something?” Brian asked. “No. No, I was doing it. It was doable. I think.” He shook his head. “But now all this calamity. My fault. And I am not equipped for this kind of stuff,” he said.
“On the contrary,” Mr. Meister said. “You seem to be handling it quite well. Tunraden has survived. Now we must ensure that she returns to the Warren, where she belongs. Prepare yourself. When the others return, we will go.”
“I’m on board, believe me,” Brian said. He stooped and slipped his hands in
to Tunraden’s surface, lifting her.
Mr. Meister crouched down in front of Joshua. “Very soon, we will need you to make a portal, Keeper. Can you do it?”
“I’m not even sure I am a Keeper,” Joshua said. “I think I’m a Lostling.”
“Did Dr. Jericho call you that?”
“Yes.”
A loud crash shook the barn, far away toward the front end. Mr. Meister ignored it, smiling kindly at Joshua. “Don’t tell me you would let the word of a Mordin cast doubt on what you know yourself to be, in the purest waters of your deepest heart.”
Joshua gazed down at the Laithe. It sounded like Mr. Meister was forgiving him. It should have brought him relief, but it only brought another worry—could the old man help Joshua? Would he let Joshua do what he needed to do? He wasn’t sure he had those pure waters, and even if he did, he needed room to find them. Joshua forced himself to nod, just once, his throat bunching up. The barn shook again, louder and closer this time.
“Whoa,” said Brian, as a shower of dust rained down on them. He slid to the doorway, peeking out.
“Now listen,” said Mr. Meister. “In a moment, Isabel will return with April. Then we will enter the humour again, and there you will open a portal for us. Understand?”
As he spoke, strange sounds began to echo through the barn’s walls. It sounded like hammers on a pile of gravel. It had to be April, and Isabel. They were in trouble.
“Do you understand, Joshua?” Mr. Meister said again. His huge left eye leered at him, and now Joshua thought he saw, deep inside that eye, a tremble of worry. Mr. Meister was hearing those sounds too, and he was afraid.
Somehow, it was a comfort. Joshua told him the most honest thing he could think of. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You can, and will. Horace witnessed it.”
Joshua stopped breathing. “Through the box, you mean? He saw me opening a portal in the humour?”
