by Ted Sanders
They stopped when they reached him. “What is that?” said Gabriel, cocking his head and listening.
“I told you,” said Joshua. “I felt what I felt. They found us.”
Another distant, deep thud shuddered through the air. Mrs. Hapsteade turned to Gabriel. “Stay here. Keep Joshua and Brian hidden.” She knelt in front of Joshua. “Keeper, if it comes to it, you must be ready to take us out of here.”
She wanted him to make a portal. But it was his portal—his terrible, careless portal—that had brought the Riven here in the first place. It was the sort of thing a Lostling would have done, Joshua knew that. A real Keeper would never have been so stupid.
“No more portals,” he said numbly.
A rumble of falling rock sounded in the distance. Mrs. Hapsteade stood. “Talk to him,” she said to the others—to Gabriel or Brian, it didn’t matter. No more portals. Not ever. Joshua reached out and shoved the Laithe away. It drifted a few feet out over the Maw and then circled gently back beside him.
Mrs. Hapsteade was already running down the Perilous Stairs, her skirts hoisted. Isabel followed. Nobody stopped her.
“This isn’t happening,” Brian said. “It isn’t happening, right?”
Something moved down below. A tiny black shape darted out of the tunnel on the other side and rose into the air. Arthur. Joshua got to his feet. The raven was croaking wildly, hoarse sounds of alarm. And now the pounding started again, closer and louder, pulsing out of the tunnel.
“Brian, go get Tunraden,” said Gabriel. “Be prepared.”
Brian hesitated, then turned and ran back into the Great Burrow.
“No one could have known,” Gabriel said, as the hammer blows went on and on.
“The real Keeper of the Laithe would have known,” Joshua said, watching Arthur.
“The Riven may be waiting for us on the far side of Vithra’s Eye,” Gabriel said. “A portal is our only safe way out.”
Safe, Joshua thought bitterly. “You’ll find a better way,” he said. “You were better off without me, better—” He sucked in his breath. Far below, April burst from the tunnel at a run, with Horace’s mom right behind her.
“What is it?” said Gabriel. “What do you see?”
Now Neptune emerged, leaping easily over the heads of the others. They ran and flew across the bridge. Joshua waited, his heart a heavy, tumbling stone. Where was Mr. Meister?
“What’s happening, Joshua?” Gabriel asked insistently.
Joshua couldn’t answer him. The hammer blows went on, like war drums. His friends spilled from the tunnel opening.
But Mr. Meister did not.
APRIL DASHED OUT of the tunnel and onto the narrow bridge, the golem’s enraged pounding chasing her. The heavy wind rising through the Maw threatened to upend her and drop her into the deeps. She sprinted on nonetheless, not sure if she didn’t care or just couldn’t stop. She kept her eyes locked on her feet, but through Arthur, circling above, she could see everything. Jessica, running right behind her. Mrs. Hapsteade, hurrying down the Perilous Stairs to meet them, with Isabel prancing past her like a cat. Higher up, Gabriel and Joshua standing at the edge of the cliff. Gabriel looked either angry or afraid, but Joshua’s eyes were dull and sad. The Laithe hung at his side.
Neptune soared over April’s head, clinging to her cloak and letting it fill with air, the wind briefly lifting her. She crossed the span easily and dropped onto the far ledge at the bottom of the stairs just as Isabel and Mrs. Hapsteade arrived.
Miraculously, April made it across too. “Riven,” Neptune was panting. “They’re coming. They brought Ravids.”
Mrs. Hapsteade scarcely seemed surprised, her face like stone. And the hammering of the golem was plain enough to hear for all. “Where is Henry?” she asked.
Neptune turned away, her eyes red. April tried to imagine how to explain what had happened, but then Jessica joined them safely on the ledge and walked right up to Mrs. Hapsteade. She took the older woman’s hands.
Mrs. Hapsteade nodded at the unspoken message. “Was he alive when you left him, Jess?” she asked steadily.
Jessica nodded. “Alive. And kicking.” She handed over the little silver compass. “He said . . . he said to tell you to go looking for him.”
For a frozen moment, Mrs. Hapsteade gazed at the red needle, pointing solidly across the Maw and into the Gallery. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, and tucked the compass into the pocket of her dress. “And so I will. But first we have to escape. Get upstairs, April. See if you can convince Joshua to open a portal for us. He’s refusing.”
“Refusing?” April said. But after a spurt of confusion and anger, she understood. Joshua thought all of this was his fault. He was checking out, not wanting to do any more harm. But without him, they had little hope.
As if to punctuate the point, a thundering rumble rolled out of the tunnel across the bridge. The golem had broken through the last wall and into the Gallery. There was nothing to stop it now. The greedy shrieks of the Riven pealed out into the Maw.
Mrs. Hapsteade stepped up to the edge of the bridge. “I’ll hold them off while I can,” she said. “Don’t wait for me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bony white wand. A phalanx. She caught April’s surprised look. “It’s quite fresh. We put Brian to work today. Now go.”
April turned to head up the stairs, but then Jessica spoke, freezing her in her tracks. “You can’t do it alone, Dorothy,” Horace’s mom said, and she began to unfold her harp.
April could hardly believe it. Jessica was planning to stay here and fight, to do what she could with her harp. But there was no chance—she wasn’t Isabel, and although April had the sense Jessica’s harp was more powerful than the little white one Isabel used in the meadow, it was certainly no substitute for Miradel. What would Horace say if he were here?
And then Isabel spoke, as soft and meek as April had ever heard her. Her eyes were locked on Jessica’s harp. “No,” Isabel said. “Not you—not either of you. It has to be me.”
Mrs. Hapsteade growled, but Jessica just gazed at Isabel thoughtfully.
“Give me the harp, Jess,” Isabel said. “I can do better than you both. I can help.”
Jessica hesitated only for a second. She held out her harp. The strings shimmered and danced. Isabel put her hand on it but didn’t take it away. “This is the end of it,” Isabel said.
“I’ve always been ready to let it go, this fragile hold it has on me,” Jessica said. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the same for you.” She released the harp and stepped back, her lip between her teeth.
Isabel tipped her chin into the air, blinking. “That’s not what I meant.”
Jessica put her hand on Isabel’s cheek. “I know.”
The golem burst out of the tunnel on the far side of the Maw. It reared up, as if searching, and then began to spread itself out over the far end of the bridge, creating a wide platform. On the instant, Mordin sprinted out of the hole, and the nasty Ravids too. The Mordin began stalking across the golem, straight for April and the others. The Ravids, meanwhile, began to climb the far wall of the Maw, spreading and skittering upward like a horde of insects, hissing and popping forward like spattering grease as they flickered in and out of sight.
“Go,” Isabel said. “Tell Chloe I . . .” Her eyes clouded over and her face seemed to crumple. But then she shook her head and turned away. “Go.” She sat down cross-legged at the foot of the bridge, the harp in her lap, and began to play.
A Mordin fell. And then another. A third actually toppled over the edge of the golem and into the Maw. But there were too many, far too many, and the Ravids—
Mrs. Hapsteade fired the phalanx, jolting one of the of Mordin to a painful halt midstride. “Up to the Great Burrow,” she said. “Now.” She turned and began running up the stairs, Jessica on her heels.
Neptune grabbed April around the waist. April felt all her weight leave her, and they launched into the air. Beneath her, Isabel grew
smaller and smaller as they rose, leaving her there. The Mordin kept coming, and falling, but whenever one fell two more came roaring from behind. And the golem was moving too, rippling across the narrow bridge like a flat-backed dragon, coming ever closer to where Isabel sat, still playing Jessica’s harp. There was no hope for her, but April understood—Isabel was giving whatever hope she could to the rest of them.
April shut her eyes. And when that wasn’t good enough, when Arthur’s keen eyes overhead could still see the flood of Riven bearing mercilessly down on Isabel, April pushed the bird out of her mind. She could still hear, of course—the furious cries of the Mordin, the deadly grind of the golem, the hiss and crackle of the Ravids.
But April believed that there were some things that should not be seen.
JOSHUA WATCHED FROM above as the charging Mordin began to fall. He leaned over the edge of the Maw and saw Isabel, far below, facing the onslaught alone. She was bent over something in her lap—a harp, it must be. The Riven continued to fall. But the golem underfoot made the crossing easy for them, and the Mordin kept coming fast. April and the others were still down there too, and they had to hurry. They had to get away.
Somehow.
Gabriel, meanwhile, had his head held high. A swarm of little Riven, a kind Joshua had never seen before, were scrambling up the far wall of the Maw. Every now and again, each one would disappear with a hiss and then reappear with a pop many feet farther on. It was clear they meant to avoid the bridge, and Isabel, entirely—they were going to climb up and over the Maw and right into the Great Burrow. Gabriel could obviously hear their approach. “Ravids,” he said. “We need to get back.” He grabbed Joshua by the shirt and hauled him back from the edge, but not before Joshua glimpsed a terrible sight below, the one sight he dreaded most in a day full of dreadful sights.
An Auditor, streaking out of the tunnel and onto the golem bridge.
Suddenly Neptune rose up over the edge of the cliff, carrying April.
“Gabriel!” Neptune cried. April stepped onto the ledge and pulled Neptune after her. Rather than alighting, though, Neptune simply drifted forward and wrapped her arms around Gabriel, pressing her face against his chest.
“Where are the others?” Gabriel said into her hair.
“Mrs. Hapsteade is coming,” Neptune murmured. “And Jessica too. But Mr. Meister—”
April grabbed Joshua’s hand. She led him away, out of earshot, and crouched down in front of him. “Joshua, we need you to make a portal.”
He pretended not to hear her. He could not make a portal while an Auditor was near. There was no point. There would be no escape, not really. “What happened to Mr. Meister?” he asked.
“He was captured,” April said. “And the rest of us will be too, if we don’t get away.”
“And what about Isabel?”
April just shook her head.
Arthur sailed in then, his huge wings hissing through the air. He landed at April’s feet and turned back in the direction of the Maw, where the Ravids had reached the top of the opposite wall and were beginning to swarm across the ceiling of the chasm. Arthur squawked his angriest squawks at them, his harsh voice echoing through the Great Burrow. “You’ve got to make a portal, Joshua,” April said. “For Arthur and me and everyone else. It’s our only hope.”
“No,” Joshua said. She didn’t understand. “A portal is how this all happened.”
“Yes, and a portal can fix it.”
Mrs. Hapsteade and Horace’s mom emerged from the top of the Perilous Stairs at a run. Mrs. Hapsteade paused and fired the phalanx out across the Maw. Far off, a Ravid squealed, pinned against the stone. But there were dozens more, still coming.
“Get to the Keystone,” Gabriel called. “I’ll try to slow them, but you don’t want to be anywhere near the Ravids—not even in the humour. They are as unpredictable as sparks from a fire.”
Neptune rose into the air above him. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll help.”
“May yours be light, then,” said Mrs. Hapsteade. “Slow them as much as you can, and meet us at the lake. We’ll need you.” After a nod from Neptune, Mrs. Hapsteade bustled toward April and Joshua, Jessica at her side. The Warden’s dark eyes were ablaze.
“Gabriel told us to get to the Keystone,” April said as she approached. “What’s the Keystone?”
“A desperate measure,” Mrs. Hapsteade said briskly. “One that will buy us only a few extra moments.” Then she looked sternly at Joshua. “I asked April to talk to you, but I don’t see a portal.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” said Joshua.
Mrs. Hapsteade squared herself in front of him, planting her hands on her hips. “Should we talk about who has already fallen tonight?” she said. “About who might be next? About who is to blame?”
Jessica laid her hand on Mrs. Hapsteade’s arm. At the edge of the Maw, where Gabriel stood beneath a hovering Neptune, a Ravid suddenly popped into existence at Gabriel’s side. The Warden swung his staff and knocked it over the precipice, then planted the tip of the staff in the ground. With a crackle and a roar, the entire cliff edge and the yawning Maw vanished, as the humour burst to life. The Great Burrow now ended in a massive wrinkle that couldn’t be seen, the swarming Ravids buried inside with Gabriel and Neptune. Joshua turned away, queasy and full of dread.
“Those are your friends back there,” Mrs. Hapsteade said, pointing at the unseeable sight. “Risking their lives to save you. And you’ll do nothing for them?”
Joshua felt tears welling up, desperate and angry. He couldn’t give them any help—only harm.
“Let’s get away,” Jessica said, soft but urgent. “Let’s give everyone a moment to think.”
Mrs. Hapsteade glowered, but nodded. “Get Brian. Get to Vithra’s Eye. I need to take care of something.” She stepped away, heading for Mr. Meister’s doba.
“What are you doing?” Joshua said.
“Whatever stays behind here tonight belongs to the Riven,” she called back. “I’m saving what I can, and destroying the rest.”
Joshua’s misery deepened. All the Tanu in Mr. Meister’s office, all those little wonders—soon to be lost, thanks to him. Mrs. Hapsteade ducked through Mr. Meister’s doorway, and a moment later, a flurry of the little birds that lived there burst out the door and scattered, chattering wildly.
“Let’s go,” Jessica said, taking Joshua’s hand. “Let’s find Brian.”
They hurried up the Great Burrow, through the dobas towering silently in the golden light. The humour loomed unseen behind them, silent. Arthur flew on ahead. Joshua let himself be dragged, the Laithe following him stubbornly. Was he being stupid? Piling one dumb decision on top of another? He had no idea. But better a bad nothing than a disastrous something—right? He reminded himself that Horace and Chloe were safe. There was that, at least. But no sooner had he thought it than the tears that had been threatening him broke loose, silent and wet.
They found Brian halfway up, shackled by Tunraden, waiting for them. His face was whiter than ever as he stared past them, back toward the Maw. “It’s not happening,” he said. “It’s not happening, right?”
Joshua glanced back, blinking through his tears. Because of Gabriel, he couldn’t see the far end of the Great Burrow, but he could certainly see that the massive chamber was shrinking. The patch of unsight that was the humour was slowly creeping closer. Joshua understood that the Riven were advancing, and Gabriel was moving with them, trying desperately to keep them from finding their way through the humour. Mr. Meister’s doba had been swallowed, and whatever Mrs. Hapsteade had done in there, it was over now. She darted to and fro now, just outside the humour, firing the phalanx whenever one of the Ravids managed to slip past Gabriel and Neptune.
Suddenly a Mordin materialized out of the nothingness. Mrs. Hapsteade pinned it immediately, but Joshua knew what it meant. The Mordin had made it across the bridge and into the Great Burrow. Whatever time Isabel had bought them, that time had run out.
“How many are there?” Brian asked, breathless.
“Too many,” April said. “We’re supposed to get to Vithra’s Eye. Gabriel said something about the Keystone.”
Brian’s eyes widened. “This is the day,” he whispered.
They hurried on, moving as fast as they could, April filling Brian in on what had happened. Joshua couldn’t bear to listen. They passed the doba where Ingrid was still held prisoner, and Joshua waited for someone to mention her, but nobody did. Nobody wanted a Lostling.
They were nearly to Vithra’s Eye now. Suddenly April stopped cold, her eyes hazy and distant, which meant she was using the vine.
“What it is?” Jessica asked.
“The owls,” April breathed.
And now Joshua heard them, ghostly cries up ahead, whistling and low. April sprinted toward them, and Joshua and the rest followed to the water’s edge, where the owls were swooping in and out of the darkness. Their worried cries filled the big chamber, echoing.
“The Riven are there,” said April, staring across the black lake. “They can’t cross, but they’re waiting for us. There’s no way out.”
Joshua could smell the brimstone, and thought he could hear movement across the water. Meanwhile behind them, the humour continued to retreat, coming closer. It was only a hundred yards off now. Neptune was outside it, fighting alongside Mrs. Hapsteade, as more and more of the Riven found their way through Gabriel’s void.
No way out. Joshua gazed at the Laithe, the perfect little earth orbiting him like the sun. “I don’t deserve this,” he said, and he thought no one would understand him, that they would think he meant he didn’t deserve what was happening right now.
But April—smart, sweet April—understood. She shook her head sadly and said, “Never say that again, Joshua. You are the Keeper of the Laithe of Teneves. You don’t deserve what happened to you, but you do deserve your power.” She put a hand on his head. “And I think you know it’s the only power that can help us now. Only you can make right what went wrong.”
