“I am sure Kent is happy where he is now, too, Muriel. You need to have faith in the gods. They will take care of him. He served his people well, and he laid his life on the line for a war fought in their honor.” Arland takes my hand, helping me from the river. The last time we were here, he wanted nothing more than to stay in the water and stare at the sky forever, but this is different. We have too many people relying on us.
I glance at the river’s edge, then at boulders surrounding the swimming hole, checking for hikers. Once I’m sure we’re alone, I bend down and take off my boots. Pouring water from them, I plaster a happy grin on my face. This action seems so normal. Without any daemons here to chase us, removing shoes is normal. Well, most people don’t swim with their clothes on. I sigh.
Muriel wrings out the end of her tunic, then rushes over to a purple wildflower and picks it. She twirls the phlox between her fingers, then puts her nose up to the center and frowns. “I thought it would smell … better.”
“You girls preparing for a ball? We should move.” Arland laughs, but the sound seems loud. Too loud.
The forest is quiet.
I don’t hear birds, or the waterfall, or bugs—I don’t hear anything.
Goose bumps prick my skin. I look over my shoulder. The water isn’t moving.
“Arland … ?” Everything is still. Leaves float suspended in the air, not falling, not floating in the wind. They are stuck there. “What time was it when we left Encardia?”
“3:00 a.m.” Arland closes his eyes, as if reaching out for the sun like we do back home. “Something is not right.”
“Mom’s letter … it said something about them needing me here.” I gasp. What if Dughbal traveled here and hurt Gary? What … what if … there are so many possibilities I cannot possibly think of the right one. “We need to hurry. Keep up with me.”
I take off running down the path leading to my favorite campsite in the state of Virginia, ducking to avoid branches, jumping over fallen trees. Arland and Muriel stay right behind, huffing out tired breaths, but we can’t slow down. We can’t stop. Something is wrong. Something is affecting Earth. A war cannot come here. These people would never understand.
In a matter of minutes, we arrive at my magical meadow surrounded by chestnuts. The shaded area with lush, carpet-like grass and little purple flowers sprinkled throughout seems like a childhood dream from so long ago.
I run right through, following the path Brit, Brad, and I took to get here so long ago. My feet burn. Wet boots do not make good running shoes. Blisters burn my heels.
“Kate”—Muriel stops and bends over, panting as though she’s just run a marathon—”can we take a break for a moment?”
“Take a break?”
Arland points to the Moormans River not flowing in front of us. This is where I usually go through first to make sure it isn’t too deep or rushing too fast for us to cross. I don’t think we’ll have that problem today.
“If Dughbal has entered this world, Kate, we may not want to get back in the water. Is there another way around?”
The forest is thick here. Too thick to forge a new path through to the Turk Gap parking lot. “We need to cross.” I stare at the water. “We’ll go fast.”
“Use magic,” he says, urging Muriel to the water’s edge.
Releasing flames, I step into the river first. Without the flowing rapids, crossing is much easier. “Come on. Just run through.”
He takes hold of her arm, then they rush in. She’s on the verge of tears, face pale, lip quivering, but he keeps her moving forward.
I step onto the grass on the other side and then turn and help them out. “We’re going to have to cross the river one more time, but the water is nearly non-existent there.”
“Understood.” He glances at Muriel. “Are you okay to go forward?”
She nods. This is the most we’ve made her move or do since Kent died. Perimeter duty was just to occupy her time, give her something to do so she wouldn’t slip into a deeper depression.
Taking her by the hand, I run. Whatever’s going on here, there’s not enough time to stop until we get to Goat Ridge to rest for the night. We have to fix this and then get back to Encardia before the others return.
Chapter Twelve
Sitting under trees for as long as the Jeep has, my baby should be covered in bird droppings, pollen, dust—something—but her black body is as shiny and clean as the day I left.
“This is one of the cars you spoke of?” Arland asks, transporting me back to our room in Watchers Hall. The moments we spent getting to know one another are distant, fond memories.
“Yes. Genuine off-roading, takes-everything-you-dish-out, kind of car,” I say, patting her hood. Smiling, I open the door, move the seat up, then step aside. “After you, Muriel.”
“You want me to get in this … car?” She looks from me to Arland who’s awkwardly holding the door.
He knows the gesture is the right thing to do, just not sure what this hunk of metal is or how it works or why it has a door in the first place. And I don’t even have to poke around in his head to figure that out. His confusion displays itself all over his face.
“She’ll move faster than a horse. I promise the car won’t hurt you.”
Muriel climbs in, and Arland makes a move to follow her, but I stick my hand in front of him.
“No, you get in on the other side.”
“Okay … .”
“Give me your sword first. You won’t be able to sit with that.”
“Here.”
Metal clangs against metal as I place our swords on the floor in the backseat and then climb into my Jeep.
Walking around to the passenger side, Arland runs his hand across the hood, looks at the undercarriage, then shakes his head. How odd this must be to him.
I inhale the familiar scent of my former life, the vanilla air freshener mixed with new car smell, and for a brief second, I stop worrying. My leather seat is warm, comfortable, and feels so normal, so right. I reach over and unlock the door for Arland, then stick the key in the ignition.
The engine roars to life, shaking the frame a little—just like usual—and Muriel squeals.
“Put on your seatbelt. It’s next to you”—grabbing the belt, I pull it across Arland’s chest and secure the clip—”you, too, Muriel.”
Both of them look so out of place. I guess I do, too. Swords, tunics, tight pants with boots laced up to the knees. Armor. Thank God we haven’t run into anyone else … yet. But if we do, maybe I can convince them we’re part of a Ren Fair or something.
“There,” Muriel says, clicking her belt into place.
Arland watches me shift the gears, check my mirrors, turn the wheel … .
“I feel like I’m on display or something.”
“You are unbelievable outside your element, but inside … you are in control, focused. You are amazing to watch and are always surprising me.” He places his hand over mine on top of the shifter, but moves once I drive it into second and pull out of the Turk Gap lot.
Arland stares out the window, mostly up at the sky. He’s thinking. I’m not going to intrude on his thoughts. Not right now anyway. This place is a lot to take in, and as long as he and Muriel aren’t freaking out over the use of modern technology, that’s all that matters.
She touches everything, running her hands across the seats, poking her finger at the plastic windows. Muriel even adjusts the vents.
I should have taken off the top for them. There’s something about the sun on your head, the wind in your hair, and the sound of the big mud tires on the pavement … it’s settling. But we don’t have time for any of that. We have to get to Gary and then get back to Encardia.
We drive onto the highway, and I gasp. Cars are all over the road, and people are in them. Frozen. I don’t understand. Everyone appears alive, just still. Completely and utterly still. How will we get anyone to come back to Encardia with us if they’re paralyzed?
I weave in and
out of the vehicles, avoiding an occasional unmoving deer in the middle of the road. “This isn’t normal … .”
“I am beginning to think there is no normal left in any world.” Arland shakes his head, holding the handle in the center of the dash as I cut between two more cars.
The highway is packed with travelers, and if I keep driving around them, I’m either going to roll the Jeep or make one of my passengers throw up. So I move over and ride up the shoulder.
“The trees are green, the sky is blue, and the flowers are all blooming, Arland. It’s like nothing has changed.” I glance at the clock on the dash: 10:00 a.m. “My car says it’s early in the morning. You said we came through the portal at 3:00 a.m. We slept for a couple hours at Goat Ridge, then we got to my car almost a day later. The sun has remained in the same place in the sky—”
“Like time is suspended.” Muriel leans forward and wraps her arms around my headrest.
Arland’s eyes widen, and he turns to look at her. “What did you say?”
She sits back, staring at the seat as if she’s done something wrong. “Nothing.”
“Muriel, you aren’t in trouble.” I meet her gaze in the rearview and smile, trying to reassure her.
“I said time is suspended.” A tear falls from her cheek. Muriel shifts to look out the window. “My mother and father used to describe Encardia to me. This place is a lot like home.”
“Muriel?” Arland asks, leveling his tone, sounding calm and wonderful, almost parent-like.
She stares at him blankly but doesn’t speak, redness flashing on her face.
“It is okay to grieve, but it is also okay to move on, to talk, to enjoy things. You like where we are. You like the excitement of helping us figure out what is going on in Kate’s world, and there is nothing wrong with that. Do you understand me?” He’s always so quick to figure out why people are upset, and his gentle command to move forward is so well-spoken, no one could ever dare take him the wrong way. Arland is everything everyone needs him to be. Strong, stable, constant. No wonder Anna’s mother thought Arland would make the best High Leader for Encardia.
He already is.
Nodding, Muriel sighs. “My mother used to say if we could suspend time, we would be much better off. Chores would be finished, then we could start time again and enjoy ourselves. My father would laugh and say if time were suspended, so too shall we be. Here we have overcome my father’s only issue, and my mother would be jealous.”
“Your parents were wise, Muriel, and you are as well.” Arland rubs his chin. “Kate, when we returned here for Brit and your mother, she said something about time being suspended … .”
“Why though?”
He shrugs. “Balance? I am not positive, but she always has her reasons. How is the bigger question.”
How is right. Not only did Mom know time was suspended here, I’m going to guess she’s the one who froze all these innocent people and animals where they stand. Maybe next time she’ll wait until the middle of the night so I don’t have to drive like a maniac up the shoulder, and I can’t even wrap my thoughts around why my Jeep runs, or why we’re not frozen, or—well, none of this makes sense.
I take the exit for Route 250, and we wind along the road between the horse farms in silence. Black and white estate fencing, hundreds and hundreds of acres of rolling green pastures, hazy, tree-covered mountains set against a bright-blue sky full of wispy white clouds—I take a deep breath, but home doesn’t have quite the same relaxing pull on me. Not while the world is paused.
Our black mailbox, battered and dented from bored teenagers and their baseball bats, appears along the edge of the narrow, two-lane road. My heart hammers against my chest, and sweat moistens my grip on the steering wheel. I make the left turn into our driveway, rocks crunching under the tires, then ride up to my parking spot.
The house looks the same—light yellow siding, white trim, big wraparound front porch— but there’s no life. The barn is silent, and there are no employees milling about the property, working with the animals, or delivering supplies.
On a normal day, birds would be singing high above our heads, horses would nicker in the fields, chickens would cluck and roosters crow, goats would make their goatly noises and be plotting their world domination … or how to eat the world.
To them there probably isn’t a difference.
“Is this where you spent your childhood?” Muriel asks, sounding wistful, breathless.
“Yes.”
To Arland and the girl, my home probably looks like a mansion, but we aren’t rich by any modern standards. We’re farmers. A dying breed amongst Americans. Most of the properties surrounding us have a For Sale sign posted at the end of the drive, preparing for developers to move in and do what they do best: tear down and rebuild.
“Your home is similar to lands around The Meadows, Kate. I have no doubt your mother picked this place because of that similarity.”
“Maybe she didn’t pick it at all. Maybe the portal put her right where she and my dad needed to be. Just like the portals knew where we needed to go.”
“I love it,” Muriel says, eyes big and round. “Can we get out and see more?”
She barely gives me time to open the door and climb out before she barrels over the front seat then jumps onto the gravel next to me. The determination and maturity of the soldier who Muriel is inside Encardia has left. She’s nothing but a little girl again, spinning with her arms wide at her sides, smiling up at the sun.
“Can we leave her here?” I ask Arland, fighting back a laugh.
“Who would care for her? Are we not here to take back the only people you trust?” Wrapping his arms around me, Arland rests his chin on my head. “But you are correct, she is incredibly happy here. Maybe we can find a way. If she can survive the cruelness in our world, she can survive here. Muriel can tend the animals … .”
She stops her carefree twirls then runs up to us. “Animals?”
I unravel from Arland’s embrace then take her by the hand, leading her toward the barn. If I’m going to find Gary, that’s probably the best place to start. Mom said he would be under the impression they were getting a divorce; I’m positive he would have come out here to relieve his stress.
“Gary?” I call.
Arland chuckles. “Do you believe he will answer you? I am sure he is frozen along with everyone and everything else.”
I shrug. “It was worth a shot.”
Muriel tugs her hand free and wanders around the barn, oohing and aahing at everything. The quiet stalls will keep her busy. Even if she finds an animal, I can’t imagine the meeting being all that exciting.
“What makes you think your stepfather is out here?” Arland asks, opening the door to the tack room. “Not in there.”
“The time on my Jeep. If it’s really 10:00 a.m., then I know he’s out here somewhere.” I check the first stall on the left. Not clean yet. “I figure when my mom left, Gary was too depressed and sent away all the workers. That’s why no one is here. But the horses, the hard work, all of that calms him.”
Arland peeks into the other two stalls on the right, while I inspect the ones on the left. Nothing.
“You two have a lot in common, then,” he says.
I walk into the alley of the barn and push through the double doors leading to the back arenas. Gary is riding atop the horse he gave me before we left—well, he was riding, before Mom did whatever she did to them.
My face flushes. She left him, and he came out here to train my horse.
“Kate?” Arland shakes my shoulder. “Is that him?”
I nod; it’s all I can manage. Maybe Gary loves me more than I thought. Maybe he loves my mother more than I thought. I don’t want to take him to Encardia where I know he’ll likely die. He can watch over Muriel, here, and be happy.
Arland walks over to the split-wood fence, then steps on the bottom rail. “That is a fine horse.”
Finding my confidence again, I join him, but rather th
an stand on the fence, I open the gate and walk up to Gary. “They are our passion, our life. Everything else is just for food, but we train and breed the horses.”
He appears gray and tired, yet very much alive. His chest expands and contracts with each breath he takes. Gary blinks, but his brown eyes remain still, focused on the ground in front of my unnamed Paint.
I touch the horse. She, too, is breathing, warm. “Arland, come here.”
How will we break them of whatever spell they’re under? How long have they been like this? Close to two months have passed since Mom and Brit came to Encardia. There is no way anything can live that long without food or water.
“But time is standing still, Kate.” Arland runs his hand along my animal’s neck, down to her shoulder. “They will not starve because not a day has passed since your mother and sister left.”
“Okay, thought-snatcher. How will we free them?” I ask, propping my hands on my hips. “The whole world—minus things we need—seems to be paused.”
Arland pats his chest, right over his heart. “The other letter.”
“Right. Why didn’t you say that before?”
“Just thought of it.” He winks, then stares at the barn. “Muriel enjoys it here.”
Turning around, I laugh. Hard. Muriel is sitting in the hayloft, swinging her legs over the edge of the barn. She has a piece of straw in her mouth and more stuck in her hair. Clearly she’s been rolling around up there. I used to when I was younger.
“The view is gorgeous,” she calls.
I dig the letters out of the container then find the second one, the one I wasn’t allowed to read until we arrived here. Mom’s handwriting is drawn around the rounded edges, and a folded up square of parchment rests in the middle. The whole thing looks like intricate origami, nothing I’ve ever seen Mom create. “A decision must be made; one that involves leaving someone else behind. Although, this decision should be easy. Make your choice, make the arrangements, and when all is complete, one-by-one unfold each piece of paper in the center of this letter and then read it aloud.”
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