Land Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  As soon as the land elementals began tunneling, Zentan Dolan raised his arms and called out, “Now!” Around him, all the other Keepers raised their arms. Marcus felt something like electricity fill the air. Overhead, lightning flashed, and the clouds began to swirl. A rush of wind, stronger than anything Marcus had ever felt, knocked him backward.

  The dirt that had been piling up beside Lanctrus-Darnoc’s tunnel, rose in a funnel of swirling debris and was thrown back into the hole. Dirt and rocks coming out of the ground collided violently with what was being sent back. The land elementals kept tunneling, but every time they seemed to make some headway, the Keepers increased their efforts and threw more dirt back where it had come from.

  Marcus cupped his hand over his nose and mouth. It was impossible to see through the swirling cloud of grit, which sounded like a pair of freight trains smashing repeatedly into each other.

  At last the crashing stopped, and the air began to clear. Coughing at the dirt, Marcus strained to see what had happened. Little by little, the falling rain cleared away the dust. The hole was gone—and in its place sat a low mound of dirt and rocks.

  “That’s not good,” Riph Raph said, edging behind Marcus.

  “Is that the best you can do?” Zentan Dolan smirked.

  “It is pointless to continue the effort,” Lanctrus-Darnoc said.

  “What about you?” the zentan asked Cascade. “Care to test your water powers against the Keepers of the Balance?”

  Cascade lifted his ball of water. The clouds seemed to rip open. Marcus ducked his head as a torrent of water poured down. But it never reached him. Instead, the water poured waterfall-like into the stream, raising it nearly to the footbridge. Six glittering water dragons rose from the rushing water. Their scales gleamed like diamonds as they lifted their wings, roared, and prepared to charge the Keepers.

  As before, the zentan raised his arms in the air, as did the rest of the Keepers. A column of fire shot down from the sky. For a moment, the dragons seemed impervious to the heat, though Marcus was forced to drop face-first to the ground to keep his skin from being roasted. Then, one-by-one, the dragons began to disintegrate. Steam rose in billowing clouds from their backs.

  The dragons moved in stuttering steps toward the zentan, and Cascade pulled more water from the stream to rebuild them. It was no use. As fast as water replenished the creatures, the fire evaporated them until the air felt like a sauna. Sweat soaked through Marcus’s robe, but it was clear that the Keepers’ strength matched that of either of the elementals.

  “Had enough already?” the zentan taunted when Cascade lowered his ball and the last of the dragons disappeared.

  “It would seem our power is equally matched,” Cascade said.

  “Equally matched?” the zentan laughed. “You haven’t seen a tenth of my power.”

  Marcus turned to Kyja. Was it time to give up and jump to Earth? He knew Cascade and Lanctrus-Darnoc would be safe without them, but how could they desert Master Therapass and the people of Terra ne Staric—everyone who had supported them?

  The zentan seemed to read his thoughts. “Thinking of running, coward?”

  “It might be best,” Lanctrus-Darnoc said. “We will do what we can here.”

  “They will not be able to harm us,” Cascade said.

  “We’ll never run,” Kyja said.

  They couldn’t run out on Master Therapass, but maybe they could use a trick that had worked for them before. “Remember Water Keep,” Marcus whispered.

  Kyja nodded.

  The walls of Water Keep had seemed impenetrable. But by jumping to Earth, walking forward, and jumping back, they’d been able to get into the city. Maybe the same trick would get them into the tower.

  “Take them!” the zentan shouted.

  “Now,” Marcus said. He felt the Keepers’ hands grab at him, but he slipped through their grip, turning and falling. As he reached back for Kyja and Riph Raph, he thought he heard the zentan’s laughter.

  Landing on the rocky desert soil, Marcus could still hear the laughter. He opened his eyes and looked into a face he remembered all too well. The man standing before him grinned—the scar that ran from the base of his jaw to his right temple, twisting like a snake.

  “Okay, bad plan,” said Riph Raph, who was a shivering green rock lizard.

  “Surprise,” the man said, his silver eyes gleaming. He lifted his forked staff, and fire jumped between its prongs. Marcus turned to run and bumped into Kyja, who was staring at another Thrathkin S’Bae. It was a trap. They were surrounded by dozens of the wizards of the Dark Circle.

  “Thought you lost me?” Bonesplinter said. “We’ve known where you were all along. We could have taken you any time we wanted.”

  Marcus searched for some way out. But there was none. The Thrathkin S’Bae reached for his throat, and he felt himself falling again—back to Farworld.

  “Welcome back,” the zentan said as Marcus, Riph Raph, and Kyja got to their feet. “I trust your trip was an educational one.”

  “What do you want?” Kyja asked.

  “She sees reason!” The zentan chortled and the rest of the Keepers echoed his laughter. “What I want is quite simple. The pathetic worm who calls himself a Master Wizard stole something of value from High Lord Dinslith. I’ve kept him alive in the hopes he would see the error of his ways and reveal its location. Now that you are here, I can finally kill him. You will tell me where it is—and if you do, perhaps I will let you live.”

  “We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kyja said.

  But do we? Marcus wondered. Master Therapass had gone back to the tower when he’d sent the two of them to the Westland woods. He’d never explained exactly what he’d returned for. What if he’d hidden whatever he’d taken within the tower? Could that be what the dreams were about? If so, revealing the location of the item could destroy Farworld.

  “I think you know where it is,” the zentan said, his eyes boring into Marcus. “Should you fail to tell me, I will kill each of the men you brought with you, one by one. Then I will kill their wives and children while you watch them beg for their lives. Finally, I will kill the two of you, slowly and painfully. Your deaths will last weeks, and before they are over you will break. The decision is yours. Tell me now—or tell me later.”

  Marcus felt his will slipping away. What choice did they have? He thought he could stand to lose his own life if he had to. But could he watch innocent children be killed because of him? He turned to Kyja and saw the same uncertainty on her face. They’d been too cocky, walking into the Dark Circle’s trap without thinking things through. It was the story of his life. But this time his arrogance would hurt many more people than himself.

  “I believe you are still underestimating your adversaries,” Lanctrus said, as though teaching a student. Her dark fox eyes glittered, and her muzzle wrinkled in a smile.

  “What are you blathering about?” The Zentan threw his hands in the air. “I thought you’d realized you were outmatched.”

  “Not outmatched,” Cascade said, the amused smile back on his face as he met Lanctrus’ gaze. “Just outnumbered.”

  “Outmatched, outnumbered. What difference does it make?” the zentan asked. “Either way, your magic is no match for mine.”

  “Maybe not directly.” Darnoc grinned, his tusks glittering in the torchlight. “But apparently, you’ve never heard of a flank attack.”

  For the first time, the zentan looked taken aback. He turned to his second in command. “You told me they were alone.”

  “Th-they are,” the Keeper said, shrinking back from his leader. “There’s no one else out there except the trulloch, and we’ll track him down soon enough.”

  “Enough of these games,” the zentan said, his arrogance returning. “There is no flank attack. You brought no others with you.”

  “We had no need to,” Lanctrus-Darnoc said. “They were here all along.”

  What were the land elementals talking about? Who w
as the they that had been here all along? If this was a bluff, Marcus thought, it would be a short-lived one.

  Lanctrus tilted her head in an oddly human gesture. “Your magic is indeed powerful. But you wield it as a weapon. You see only black and white, sword and shield. That is your strength, but it will also be your downfall.” The land elementals stretched their wings, and Marcus heard a sharp crack behind him.

  He spun around and peered through the west gate. At first he couldn’t understand what had made the sound. Then he realized something was missing. What was it?

  A figure moved in the darkness. A pair of Keepers flew through the air, landing face first in the dirt. A tall, broad-shouldered shape bulled its way through the crowd. Just before it stepped into the light, Marcus realized what was missing: the statue outside the gate was gone—its pedestal stood empty.

  “Tankum,” Kyja breathed as the warrior stepped into the clearing and stopped. He was still made of stone, yet he moved like a living person.

  “Nice work,” the statue said to the land elementals. “Gets kind of old standing up there all the time.” He stretched his arms above his head with a groan of pleasure—massive marble biceps bulging as his twin swords gleamed. He looked at Marcus and nodded. “You’ve grown some since the last time I saw you, kid. Any good with a sword?”

  “What is this?” the zentan howled.

  All the way along the path to the tower, stone wizards and warriors climbed down from their pedestals, greeting one another with shouts and calls of recognition.

  Tankum clanged his swords together—the sound ringing through the night—and the rest of the statues turned to face him. He winked at the zentan. “Looks like the numbers just evened out.”

  Chapter 44

  The Dungeon

  Kyja watched Tankum—amazed to see the statue she’d passed every day as a child come to life—when a fireball exploded halfway up the tower hill. Someone—she couldn’t tell who—raised a battle cry, and suddenly the sound of steel meeting steel split the air.

  Bodies hurled at one another as stone wizards and warriors charged down the slope into the Keepers, who attacked back with blasts of fire. The zentan shouted for his men to form ranks, but Cascade calmly lifted the glittering orb in his hands, sending bursts of water that extinguished the torches, plunging the city into a darkness lit only by blasts of magic. All hope of an organized battle was lost.

  An explosion shook the ground, and Kyja fell against Marcus.

  “This way,” a familiar voice spoke into her ear. Somehow, Screech was at her side. His cold fingers closed around Kyja’s wrist and lifted Marcus completely into the air. All around them spells flew and weapons collided. The battle ranged from the side of the hill into the city streets, but the trulloch guided them with unerring accuracy through the tumult.

  “Over there,” Kyja said, spotting a metal gate. It was locked, but she knew she could squeeze through the rusted bars because she’d done it before—several months ago, the last time she’d been in the city. Marcus had more difficulty getting through, but the trulloch easily folded his long limbs and twisted his shoulders as though he were made of nothing more substantial than tissue paper.

  “How did you find us?” Kyja asked once they’d reached the relative safety of the tall hedges beyond. “Can you see in the dark?”

  Screech held out his broad hands. “One of the few benefits of being a trulloch.”

  “Where did you disappear to before?” Marcus asked.

  “The night,” the trulloch answered enigmatically. “It was too late to warn you when I realized the Keepers were waiting.”

  “Either that, or you were part of the trap.”

  Obviously, Marcus didn’t trust Screech. Kyja wasn’t sure she trusted him either. She hadn’t forgotten Cascade’s warning that the trulloch had motives of his own for helping them, or the fact that the Keepers had recognized Screech back at the swamp. But this was the third time he’d come to their aid.

  “Do you know where Cascade and Lanctrus-Darnoc went?” she asked him.

  “I’m here.” The water elemental appeared from a puddle of rain water. “The land elementals are supporting the statues in battle.”

  “We have to get to Therapass,” Kyja said.

  Marcus looked up at the tower with either fear or fascination. “How? There’s no way we can reach the underground river with all that going on.”

  Kyja pointed to the path winding past a low, stone wall. “That leads to a back entrance into the kitchen. With the battle as a distraction, we might be able to sneak past the guards.”

  “What about the unmakers?” Marcus asked. “Rhaidnan said there were at least two guarding Master Therapass’s cell.”

  “I sense three,” Cascade said. “But I can’t tell exactly where they are. They are difficult to see, even for a water elemental.”

  “Can you help us get past them?” Kyja asked.

  The Fontasian shook his head. “Unmakers are creatures of shadow, so normal magic does not affect them. That’s why the zentan is using them to guard the wizard.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Screech said. “Do I smell apples?”

  “Yes.” Kyja pointed past the hedges. “The orchard is just over there. But what do apples have to do with anything?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re hungry at a time like this,” Riph Raph said. “Although if anyone has a few spare fish, I could eat them.”

  “Did you ever notice a certain smell when the unmakers were near?” Screech asked, ignoring the skyte.

  Kyja tried to remember. She’d been encased in ice when they were first captured and later, she’d been running for her life. But Marcus nodded at once.

  “I remember. They had a moldy smell but sweet too. Like . . .” he looked up at Screech. “Like rotten apples.”

  The trulloch nodded. “They love spoiled fruit even more than emotions or magic. If we brought a couple of bushels to the dungeon, I might be able to distract them long enough for Cascade to open the lock.”

  “Let’s do it,” Kyja said. She started up the trail but stopped when she saw that Marcus hadn’t followed. He was still staring up at the tower. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just thinking.”

  “Well, stop thinking and start walking.” She could barely keep from breaking into a run. The zentan had said Master Therapass was going to be executed. Who knew how long they had? Minutes?

  The rotten apples were even easier to come by than she’d expected. A big stinking pile of them sat just outside the pig pens, and several empty bushels were stacked nearby. She and Screech quickly loaded a basket each.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Marcus.

  “Sure,” he said pulling his gaze away from the tower. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He hadn’t helped load a single apple, and he seemed lost in another world. Kyja leaned closer, “Are you still worried about the dream?”

  He paused for a moment as if pondering her question before answering. “Surprisingly, no.”

  She sensed he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but she’d have to wait until later to ask more. Holding the basket to her chest, she led the group up a stone passageway slippery with mud and damp hay.

  This was the back entrance to the kitchen, used for delivering slaughtered animals and fresh produce. Bella, the head cook, had taken her this way to escape the tower what seemed like a lifetime before. Back then, Kyja had no idea what the Dark Circle was. She knew Marcus only as a face in the aptura discerna.

  She hoped to find Bella in the kitchen, but when she reached it, the big room was empty. Normally good smells filled the air here no matter what time of night or day. But even though magical torches burned on all the walls, the place had a deserted feel to it, as if no one had cooked here for days or weeks. It smelled of spoiled meat and rotted vegetables. Bella would never have left her kitchen like this. Had something happened to her? Kyja hoped her friend hadn’t been punished for helping her es
cape.

  “This way.” She gestured to the group and passed the stairs she used to take to reach Master Therapass’s study for her magic lessons, avoiding the front entrance to the tower. It always had at least two guards. She cut through the back of the dining hall.

  “The pig sties looked cleaner than this,” Riph Raph said.

  If the kitchen had normally been clean, the dining hall had always been immaculate. Kyja couldn’t remember a time when the long, wooden tables weren’t polished to a golden honey-like gleam. Silver candlesticks provided a warm glow over the whole room, while china and goblets were laid out for the next royal meal.

  But now the room looked as if a group of wild animals had been let loose in it. Wine had been splashed across the tabletops. Chunks of meat were strewn across the floor, and fruit splattered the walls.

  Unwilling to see the tower in this kind of condition, she hurried from one hallway to another until they were one turn away from the door to the dungeon.

  “If there are guards, they’ll be just around this corner,” she whispered.

  Screech held a finger to his lips and eased around the wall. A moment later, he returned. “They are gone, but the door is locked.”

  “Leave that to me.” Cascade led them around the corner and stopped in front of the door. He put his eye to the keyhole.

  “Can you open it?” Kyja asked.

  “Splash and spray,” he said. “You humans ask the most foolish questions.” He held out the blue globe. A finger of water slid into the lock, and a second later, the globe and water froze solid. He turned the “key,” and the lock opened with a click.

  Kyja paused before going through the door. She’d been in the dungeon only once—helping Bella take dinner to a man accused of killing another over a woman they both loved—but the memory of the cold walls and dark cells had stuck with her.

  “Maybe Cascade and I should go alone,” Screech said.

  “No,” Kyja said. “We’re all rescuing Master Therapass. Right, Marcus?” Kyja turned for Marcus’s confirmation, but he was gone.