Inked (The Ink Keepers Book 1)

by N. I. Rojas

  “Wait.” -Mackenzie stood in between Kyra and the crowd. - “I brought her here and you promised to make me a normal boy again. You talked about my mother and my family… I did this to be free. I’m the one who must receive the award. You cannot trick me now, Wizard.”

  “I have done more than you to bring the girl here.” -The Wizard yelled back.

  “That’s not true. You tried to kill us many times. The giant elves and the carnivore plants? I’m sure they haven’t attacked me before. And what you want with her father? He’s a good man.” -Mackenzie protested.

  “I have no time for your childish things! My power is growing now with every passing second. Soon, the moon will be shinning high where I want it, and we can perform the sacrifices. You’ll get your prize then. But now we have work to do.”

  Trying to be as stealthy as a ninja, Kyra took the Graphylux in her right hand. Her fingers were sweaty and a cold current traveled from her neck to the bottom of her spine. Every passing second seemed to bring her closer to death. Now she truly felt as a character of a book, one of those stories with tragic endings in the middle of the last chapter. A story with more sacrifice as unique reward to all the blood spilled in the cracks of the soil.

  Kyra couldn’t think straight. Hearing Mackenzie asking for his spell to be broken, to be a normal boy again, to grow, to recover his family, destroyed Kyra’s heart. Much to her regret, Mackenzie betrayed her, a total stranger, to get his life back, to have his family again. Could she blame him? Wouldn’t she have done the same? Suddenly, everything made sense. He was a boy unable to grow. A boy condemned to be a child in a world of fantasy and adventure. She always thought a boy like him would have enjoyed the treatment, but he seemed unhappy, almost living under an eternal punishment. He was too tired of living that way. His own never-aging hell.

  What could she do? She couldn’t let herself be sacrificed just to make Mackenzie grow old. She entered this alternative world just to free the Graphylux and she wasn’t close to it. Thinking it twice, she came inside that story just because her father pushed her in against her will. Her father was in there too, probably needing to be rescued. She stood in Alter Land just to free her father. For Kyra, the Graphylux could remain enchanted forever, but her father wouldn’t stay there another day.

  The thought flown as water from a spring, clear, precise, and she just let her hand work in conspiracy with her mind to do magic words in the stained skin of her hand.

  A fortress grew around Kyra, protecting her from the crowd, opening a magic path to rescue her father from dangers.

  The books from the bookshelves started flying around the salon. A parchment twister that created a strong blizzard, surprising everyone, even Kyra. She raised her hands, trying to make a shield to protect herself from been hit by one of the thousands of flying books, but the books seemed to recognize her and their command was to protect this girl, the so-called witch raised among humans, the one and only Keeper. The Book Whisperer.

  The castle was filled with the sound of book pages turned in unison, and the noise was as lasting as a hive coming directly to Kyra from far away. The books traveled around the salon and only impervious walls were visible. She walked to the left and the right while the books kept flying, being stacked over one another, and Kyra climbed on one of the empty bookshelves to see what was happening at the other side of the protective wall. To her surprise, an amazingly huge maze of books was under construction, and the few visible guests were divided in between the twisted walls.

  “Excessive…” -Kyra managed to say with surprise, as she knew the Graphylux would be awaiting for one of her flattering observations.

  “Half my nature. Half my spell.” -The Graphylux defended his work. As always wanting to show off, exaggerating the things, the Graphylux created a maze of books so tall and twisted that even Kyra didn’t know how to move inside. This may keep everyone busy for the moment, delaying Kyra’s execution.

  “Any idea how to get out of this maze?” -Kyra asked the Graphylux.

  “Don’t look at me! Start walking, dear. Start walking.” -Was all the Graphylux said.

  Chapter 20: War of Words

  How many days had passed by over him, the dentist didn’t know. He was delirious for sure, as the thirst and hunger were taking the best of him. Accepting his fate, Kyra’s father closed his eyes and remembered the time when Jadline told him about the pen. A mere mortal would keep it tamed, she had said.

  He was just that.

  A mere mortal.

  He was just a mere mortal to the woman he loved.

  A simple man whose only passion was cleaning other people’s mouths. But she had said more. Someone with his kind of patience and charisma would make the pen asleep of laziness. Poor man! Now that he thought about it Jadline only used him as decoy. She took the calmer man she could have found and made him the dreamy guard of a crazy pen.

  He was just a mere boring man.

  This was all crazy. He was crazy. He was losing it now. His sanity abandoned him already. His righteous courtship and love were just something more to prove how wrong he had been during the last sixteen years.

  His eyes managed to open again. His head hurt so bad he cannot force himself to continue thinking about Jadline, or even thinking on Kyra. The wind was blowing the best scent he had felt ever, bringing a soft murmur, calming and soothing as river waters. In an instant, the sharp mouths of the weed seemed glorious sunflowers dancing under the best spring morning.

  *****

  This world, Alter Land, was a place where emotions were easy to find but hard to express. Everything was full of sensations and feelings. Kyra sensed it the first second spent in this world. Every single flower blooming between the wet soil and the blue sky was meant to express a specific feeling. Each fruit growing was the right way to identify emotion and life. Every blown of the wind meant Alter Land was alive, feeling, growing, creating, changing.

  It was funny how all the things around seemed to change so suddenly or to think that they had own mind. Just like the thousands of butterflies that escaped from the book Kyra touched, those that now where fluttering over her head, urging her to move forward. It could be the help she needed to find her father, or another betrayal waiting for her.

  The walls of books were taller than what Kyra’s eyesight could follow, maybe touching the high ceiling by now, closing the maze and leaving just one way for her to escape. Walking forward or going back, two paths to choose. Two trails that guided her right to the same direction: her perdition. Voices were coming closer, following her from behind, and Kyra chose to walk forward, her feet making noises like if she was walking with rubber shoes on sticky tiles. Strange lights were moving ahead and the voices faded soon, but that didn’t mean danger was far away. Her head was spinning with all the information she knew and with what she still needed to learn. The lights were closer and Kyra stood still, trying not to touch anything or make any noise. Her hands were frozen, her finger shaking with fear. Despite the cold, drops of sweat slid from Kyra’s forehead and across her cheeks leaving a trail between the dirt glued to her face.

  Night was falling over her accompanied with a coldness she hadn’t felt before. She was chilled to the bones. The light was over her head now, big and bright as a train about to crush her. She panicked and tried to avoid that bright light, her hands coming up her face as if the gesture could protect her from everything, but she stumbled and felt to her knees.

  Her fingers barely grazed the cover of one of the books.

  Kyra cursed to her insides. Why she had to touch? Why she didn’t just fall to the floor, hands and knees against the hard, cold material? She could live with more scrapes and scratches, but it was wiser not to touch anything, considering the butterfly swarm that escaped the first book.

  The touched book felt to the floor and everything started to shake. Some of the books stacked nearby started falling over Kyra’s head, forcing her to lie in the ground, curled in fetal position. Trying to protect
her head and neck, Kyra tried to resist the pain of dozens of books that left her buried under the pages in which so often she had fallen asleep. The light was passing by, without noticing Kyra sprawled on the ground, masked by books. Kyra tried to retreat from her grave of pages, but a heavy load didn’t allow the movement. She wanted desperately to see what was happening, what was the source of such bright light, but she just couldn’t move. A melodious voice filled the maze. A song Kyra had never heard before. Kyra’s curiosity grew more and more. The light and the voice were together. Desperately she wanted to see what was happening, who was traveling just inches above her head, singing like an angel, but a soft childish voice interrupted her concentration.

  “Don’t listen. You’ll fall under her spell.” -The voice whispered softly in Kyra’s ear. She tried to focus on the song, but it was hard with someone crushing her like mashed potato. - “Stay down and focus on my voice.” -It said again.

  It was childish, but rough. It has an accent, too, but Kyra cannot precise which at the moment. Her ears were buzzing, the voice and the song intermingling in an understandable mishmash. Kyra was sure beyond doubt that neither of those voice were Mackenzie’s.

  The song was stronger now. It was getting closer. The sound clashed against the walls of books, bouncing from side to side, electric, challenging, creating a faint echo, a lullaby whose lyrics were impossible to figure out. She wanted to see what the light was, where the song was coming, but she feared too.

  “I want to see.” -Kyra argued back, trying to keep her voice down, while fighting to take the excess of weight off her back.

  “Can’t say I didn’t warn you!” -The voice sang softly in Kyra’s ear, seconds before receiving a muffled thump on her head, which left Kyra unconscious and dreaming.

  Kyra loved the times her father sat in her bed while she was a little girl. He always had this big smile nothing could compare with. What a gifted man he was! Just before going to sleep, the dentist enjoyed telling her stories. The awe in their faces as the story was developing was matchless. Many times, he allowed Kyra to build up a new twist in a story they knew by heart, making the storytelling a new adventure every night.

  “You’ll learn the signs, baby Ky.” -He used to say. - “You’ll tie together all these loose ends.”

  Kyra didn’t understand those words. But how wonderful was the world he painted with words just for her! The castle was just magical and the characters he described so vividly were just as alive as her talking teddy bears and dolls. There was one character her father claimed to know better than the others. Her name was Jadline. He talked of her with devotion, almost with love. That name coming out of her father’s lips was a poem recited with a passion he didn’t even show while talking of white teeth, and he loved white teeth almost as strong as he loved his daughter. Sadly, the story always changed. Jadline ended up missing and a mysterious pen came to scene.

  “A battle will come. A war of well-expressed words. Sometimes, a fight can take place without blood. You’ll just need to free the pen and hopefully all this will end.” -Her father used to say. His face changed every time he pronounced that phrase, making Kyra grow hating fiction and fantasy, and clinging to reality and history to avoid asking her father to stop the storytelling. It would destroy him and separate them.

  Kyra woke up feeling stiff and dizzy. Keeping her eyes still very closed, Kyra reviewed the recent events. She wasn’t sure if seeing her father was a dream or a memory, but she had a sense of déjà vu impossible to shove away. She tried to fall asleep again, wanting to summon his image one more time. Needing to fell sheltered and protected under his care.

  “It’s safe for now.” -The rough, childish voice told her. Now Kyra remembered everything. The hit in the head. The voice. The song. The light. Or it had happened the other way around? Yes. She was sure. The hit in the head was the last thing before falling unconscious.

  Kyra sat immediately. Without even worrying to avoid touching, she pushed the books aside. She took her left hand to her head as it hurt so bad Kyra felt she had brain damage. Feeling something wet and warm running in her head, she panicked. Confused, Kyra moved her hand to her face, discovering a red fluid staining her fingers.

  “You hurt me! You cracked my head in two?” -Kyra growled at the shadow in front of her.

  “It’s just a little lump! It’s superficial.” -The shadow said, defending itself. - “You’ll heal as soon as you go back to your own story.”

  “My own story? I don’t belong to any story.” -Kyra said, the blood boiling in her face, hotter than a volcano spitting lava. She felt the pressure reaching the highest level ever, and she was about to lose control. She couldn’t afford that mistake now that she had a chance to fix it all. - “I’m real. From the real world. As real as the writer who put you inside your story.”

  “Yeap, right.” -The mysterious shadow said sarcastically. - “And in your world of reality, people don’t know that if a mermaid is out of the water, safe and singing, is a deadly threat?”

  “What are you talking about?” -Kyra asked, now completely puzzled. Coming out of the shadows, the mysterious creature revealed itself for the first time. Her semblance surprised Kyra. She never thought possible to meet face to face with one of her childhood’s characters.

  “Maybe I hit you harder than what I intended.” -This girl, wearing a red hoodie, walked to Kyra, rummaging between Kyra’s hair to examine the damages. - “No. It’s just a scratch. A tiny lump, red as my dress, but soft as one of my honey buns. It’ll heal soon.”

  Kyra was so surprised, her mouth opened ajar, the impression clinging from her neck, making her look like a humpback. The girl was young just like Kyra, with cooper hair, wearing a hoodie-like red dress. Fancy white, ruffled lacy petticoats underneath. Some unruly hair locks escaped from the sides of the hoodie, creating a sponge of coppery threads on both sides of the girl’s neck. An axe was held in the girl’s hand, swaying and swinging around with great skill. Her catlike eyes watched Kyra slowly, trying to understand this strange girl whining in front of her.

  “By the way, I’m Rouge.” -The girl said, extending her free hand for Kyra to shake. Kyra doubted for a second. What will happen if she touches the girl? Of course, besides bringing someone out of a book would be too much to deal with for the moment. It was absurd, Kyra thought, and took Rouge’s hand quickly.

  “I’m Kyra. How did you get in here, Rouge?” -Kyra tested her words. Pronouncing this girl’s name was just not normal.

  “You called me.” -Rouge answered.

  “I didn’t call you!” -Kyra protested in surprise, very certain she hadn’t asked anyone for help this time. The pen was well hidden, tight in her pants belt.

  “Yes, you did call me.” -Rouge said back, feeling impatient now. - “You touched my book. A whisper asking for my help. You called me and I came to your aid, as it’s written. The heroin will come to the Whisperer’s aid, while the villain will make her afraid .”

  “You’re wrong. I stumbled and while I fell to the floor I touched some undetermined book.” -Kyra tried to explain.

  “Yes, you touched my book. You called me because you needed help. You were in trouble.” -Rogue said while her axe swung harder and faster. - “Besides, I know everything about you. You are the Book Whisperer. You are the one who command books to come to life with just your touch. With your magic pen you can bring everything to life, create a new story and a new world. I don’t mean to cut this conversation, but we better keep walking unless we want to die petrified by the mermaid’s song.”

  Rouge helped Kyra to her feet. They started walking, following the path Kyra was taking before the light and the song appeared. Before all this chaos. Just minutes before being hurt with an axe in the head.

  “Everybody knows who you are.” -Rouge explained while she took a bend in the maze, one Kyra had ignored the last three times they circled around the same place. - “Every creature from every fairy tale knows about you. Maybe you know nothing ab
out us, but every page, every word, every character of every book knows what you are capable of doing. We were waiting for you, to change the curse of our stories.”

  “Listen. I really appreciate your help, although I’d rather live without my head being smacked with an axe, but I need to rescue my father and I’m trying to run away from an irksome traitor. Can you go back to your own story, or I have to send you back?” -Kyra asked full of curiosity.

  “Take note, Kyra. Sometimes the wolf of your story isn’t as bad as you may think. Maybe the woodcutter ends up being the real beast in disguise.”

  “But Rouge, your story isn’t like that.” -Kyra said convinced.

  “It’s the story behind the story. Everything has a beginning and an end. But what lies in the middle is an open book, a place to swage or program whatever you want to do. Every story is full of loose ends, we just work with them to our benefit. After our book is closed, we’re still there, without people knowing. We continue living despite the bottom line says we were devoured by the wolf.”