“What happened? Where is everyone?”
“We’re moving the families. Just in case that scout ship reported our location to the enemy. But the army’s gone to Loris. Left just before sunset.”
“But they’re outnumbered! It’s suicide! Everyone said so.”
“Well now.” Hugo Algernon scratched his beard. “You’ve been unconscious a while. That attack sort of pulled everyone together. Made those nitwits remember who the real enemy was. And then King Robbie had this idea—for a dwarf, he’s not completely thick—he appointed a new commander, one that was acceptable to all three races. It’s mostly a ceremonial position, of course, but soon as word got out, new recruits started pouring in from around the world. Von Klappen and Chu and I must’ve had a dozen portals going nonstop. From noon to sunset the army doubled, then tripled in size. They’ve got a chance. Not a big one. But a chance.”
Kate turned to face him. “Who’s the new commander?”
Hugo Algernon grinned and actually looked sheepish. “Well, imagine there was a human who was also an honorary dwarf and who just so happened to be the boyfriend of an elf princess. If you can, try to see the humor in this….”
—
Michael stood on the deck of the ship. There was no moon, which was a good thing, but the stars were clustered densely overhead. The air was warm and heavy with salt. He was wearing the chain mail tunic King Robbie had given him, which was remarkably light and supple, and he also had on dwarfish battle leathers, which were thicker and stiffer than he would have liked. A sword and a knife, both given to him by King Robbie, were strapped to his waist. He stared out at the fleet—his fleet—spread across the dark water.
(Michael knew it was silly to think of any of it—the ships, the soldiers—as his, that he was commander in name only, but he couldn’t help himself.)
As all the ships were sailing at the same speed, they hardly seemed to be moving, but Michael could hear the sluicing of water across the hulls, the snapping of ropes, the creak and whine of wood.
All afternoon, as Kate had lain unconscious in their tent, watched over alternately by him or Hugo Algernon or Magda von Klappen or Wilamena—soldiers had arrived to swell their ranks. The first to arrive had been the fighters from Gabriel’s village, two dozen stern-faced, dark-haired men whose presence in the camp had filled Michael with confidence. Then there were dwarves from Lapland, who came with icicles hanging from their beards and axes as long as they were tall; river elves from Thailand, who spoke a language that even the other elves couldn’t understand; more elves from the mountains of Morocco, who dressed in long, colorful robes; human fighters from the Badlands….
So many, Michael thought. But would it be enough?
Magda von Klappen stood on the foredeck conversing with Master Chu. She had already had the same conversation with Michael that Hugo Algernon had had with Kate.
“But we still have to deal with the Dire Magnus,” Michael had said. “And we still have to rescue Emma.”
“Yes. If he gains control of the Reckoning, we are all dead anyway.”
“And if we beat him, then just me and my sisters have to die.”
“We’re working on that,” the witch had said.
Even now, Michael marveled at his own calmness. It was as if he’d split himself in two. There was Michael Wibberly the head of the army, who knew that the only way of keeping the world safe was to defeat the Dire Magnus. Then there was Michael Wibberly the thirteen-year-old boy, who’d do anything to save his sisters and who felt death and disaster breathing down their necks.
His hand rested on the shape of the Chronicle in his bag, and he wondered how much of the magic was in him. How long did they have?
With effort, he pulled his mind back to the present.
He glanced up to the outline of Captain Anton in the crow’s nest, the elf peering through the darkness for the first sight of Loris. All about Michael, men and dwarves were quietly checking their kits. He noted how, apart from the usual weapons and equipment, they had all been outfitted with an odd-looking metal apparatus fashioned by dwarf blacksmiths on the island. Michael had examined one of the objects, but could not figure out what it was or what it was intended to do. He’d asked King Robbie, who’d only smiled and said, “Let it be a surprise, lad. For you and for the enemy.” Then he added, “Besides, it may not even work.”
“Rabbit?”
Wilamena stepped toward him. She was wearing a dress the color of midnight and had a dagger at her waist attached to a silver belt; her hair, which shone faintly in the darkness, was in two thick braids down her back.
“What troubles you? Are you worried about Katherine? She will recover.”
“No. I know.”
“Then what is it?”
Michael thought of telling her what Magda von Klappen had told him about what the Books were doing to the world, about his and his sisters’ deaths being the only way anyone knew of that would fix the damage. Did she already know? No, he decided, she would’ve said something. Or written a poem about it.
“Nothing. I mean, we’ve got a plan. We’re all going to do our best and—”
Michael felt her hand, cool and soft, take his. He stopped rambling and looked into her eyes. As always happened, he was pulled into a private magical space that belonged solely to the two of them.
He spoke so only she could hear.
“I know this is necessary, that if we’re not at the portal when Emma comes through, the Dire Magnus will get the Reckoning, and life as we know it will end. But even with all these new soldiers, we could still fail, and…” He paused, feeling embarrassed by the chain mail and sword. He wished he was wearing his own clothes. “It’ll be my fault. Our fault. Mine and my sisters’. Because everyone here’s thinking we can defeat the Dire Magnus. I’m scared we’re just going to get them all killed.”
The elf princess put her finger under his chin and lifted his face till his eyes met hers again.
“This fight found us. What you and your sisters have done is to give them hope. That is magic in itself.”
“But…what if we lose?”
“Then we lose. There are things worth dying for. Friendship. Loyalty. Love. And if in fighting for those, this is the last stand of the elves, then so be it.”
Michael found himself struggling to hold back tears. “Thank you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Now come see what I’ve brought you.”
She led him down the deck to where a large object was covered with black cloth. She drew the fabric away, and at first Michael could make no sense of what he was seeing. It was made of leather, but he found it to be a leather of such softness and suppleness that he thought he was touching silk. Then he realized:
“It’s a saddle!”
“Indeed.”
“But we don’t have any horses!”
“Oh, it’s for something much larger than a horse.”
“You don’t mean—”
“There is no one else whom I trust to protect my Rabbit. We will fight this fight together.”
She kissed him again, not his cheek this time, and Michael felt a warmth spreading through his body and sensed he was on the verge of saying something extremely embarrassing when a sound as quiet as the footfall of a cat made them turn.
Captain Anton had leapt down to the deck.
He said, “Something is coming.”
—
Carrying the lantern from her tent, Kate made her way to the beach where she’d killed the Imp. The island was emptying out, the families from Loris almost completely loaded onto the boats. Hugo Algernon had already disappeared, saying he had a matter to see to. “No doubt a fool’s errand, but as Pym is not here to do it, I suppose I have to.” He’d told her to get on one of the boats transporting the refugees, and she’d promised she would.
But she had something to do first.
She’d discovered when she’d woken that her jacket had been taken from her. Apparently, it had been covered in Imp blo
od and burned. That was fine. But her mother’s locket was also missing. Kate surmised that the chain must’ve been broken when the Imp had fallen on her. So now she had gone back to the beach alone, in the dark, to find it.
The beach was empty, and the tide had come in a long way. Kate searched carefully, holding the lantern down low, and she found the locket along the water’s edge, nestled among the stones. The chain had indeed been broken, but both locket and chain were still there, and Kate lifted them with trembling fingers. She had lost the locket once before, in New York, and Rafe had recovered it and the chain and returned them to her.
She slid the locket and chain into her pocket.
She said, “You’re there, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She turned. Rafe stood just behind her. The lantern at her side lit only part of his face; his eyes remained in darkness. She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart.
“You think Michael and the others have a chance?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”
“I had that dream again.”
“What dream?”
“When I was in the church. In New York. You were there.”
“Did I say anything?”
“No.”
“Sometimes a dream is just a dream.”
Kate found herself wishing she’d been able to talk to Michael before he’d left with the army. She would’ve finally told him about Rafe appearing to her. She would’ve apologized for keeping it secret and would have asked him to forgive her.
She said, “Can we stop pretending?”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then he smiled.
“When did you figure it out?”
And that smile, the confirmation it held, was like a hammer blow. She swallowed and managed to speak.
“Just today. I think…I’ve known for a while, but I didn’t want to.”
She dropped her gaze to the stones at her feet. She couldn’t look at him, for to look at him was to see Rafe, and he wasn’t Rafe. Rafe was dead. He had died a hundred years ago, the night he had sacrificed himself so that she could live. The thing next to her was the monster that had killed him. That was what she had to remember.
“Why did you do it? Just to torture me?”
He actually managed to sound hurt. “Of course not.”
“So from the beginning, that first time in the Garden, that was…”
“It was me, yes.”
“But why?! Why appear to me at all?! Why trick me?!”
It was taking all of Kate’s will and strength to hold herself together.
“Because I needed you at the fortress, you and your brother. I already had Emma. And if I’d succeeded in bonding her to the Reckoning, I could’ve fulfilled the prophecy and my quest then and there.”
“But you didn’t! Michael pulled her spirit back, and Dr. Pym, he—”
“Sacrificed himself. It just made things more difficult. And anyway, I’d planned for the chance my first attempt might fail.”
“What do you mean?” She glanced up at him and had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She felt as if she was being ripped in two. She wanted to run to him, hold him. And at the same time, she wanted to kill him. Why did he have to look like Rafe? Why couldn’t he look like the murderer he was?!
“It’s difficult, I know.” He sounded almost sympathetic. “You’ll get used to it.”
She turned away, her arms tight across her chest, staring across the black water.
“To answer your question: I hadn’t waited thousands of years to risk everything on a single chance. I knew there was a possibility you three might escape. And I knew if you did, it would be by using the Atlas. So I took precautions. When I came to you in the Garden on Loris, I placed the image of the giants’ land in your mind. I made it so it would be the first thing the Atlas seized on when you tried to escape. From there, I hardly had to do anything. The three of you found the giants’ city and the Countess all by yourself. You brought her back to life—as I knew you would—and discovered where the book was hidden.”
“How long have you known where it was?”
“A thousand years or so.”
“I don’t—You couldn’t have planned it all!”
“It really wasn’t that hard. And now we’re almost done.” Then he said, “Come to me.”
“No.”
She felt him step closer, so close he could whisper in her ear.
“You believed I was Rafe because you wanted to believe. I am still him. But so much more. I told your sister, the only fight you’ll never win is the one against your own nature. I stopped fighting that battle long ago. I’m who I was always meant to be. A new world is about to be born, Kate. I want you there with me.”
Kate could feel the magic of the Atlas stirring within her. She could call it up, command it to take her somewhere, anywhere. So what if she wasn’t able to control it like she used to, so what if it hurt her. She would be far away from him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
You’re weak, she told herself. You’re weak and an idiot. And you betrayed the two people you love most in the world.
“Kate…”
She shook her head.
“Then I’m sorry about this.”
She was still staring across the water when she heard the roaring, and then the screams. She didn’t look at him; she just dropped the lantern and ran.
In no time, she was back on top of the cliff, and could see down to the harbor and beyond, to where the families from Loris were escaping, a jagged line of boats stretched across the water.
A pair of waterspouts, giant whirling funnels of wind and water, had sprung up and were tearing toward the line of boats. Kate saw the tip of the first funnel cleave its way through a boat carrying more than thirty people. She heard wood splinter and break, she heard screaming—
“Stop it! Stop it!”
“It’s your choice, Kate.” He was standing beside her. “Just say the words.”
Kate saw the second waterspout heading toward a boat carrying dozens of families. Despite the distance and the darkness, she could see the children aboard; she could hear their terrified voices.
“Yes! Fine! Whatever you want!”
Instantly, the winds died, and the waterspouts sank into the sea. Kate stared at the bay, at the other ships moving to rescue those who had been thrown from the boats, the water now littered with broken bits of wood and the luggage of the refugees, with people.
“But…how am I supposed to get to you? I can’t control the Atlas! It—”
He made a calming noise. “It’s okay. I can help.”
She felt the tingle as he reached up to touch her temple, just as he had in the Garden, days before. He said, “It’s almost over. Now. Come to me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Fog and Ice
It was fog. That was what the elf captain had seen, a gray mass in the distance where the island of Loris should have been, and moving toward them at a completely unnatural speed. Before long, Michael was able to see it himself, as the stars along the horizon began to disappear. At King Robbie’s order, the soldiers started to prepare themselves while a dwarf with a shielded lantern flashed a complicated staccato to the other ships.
“He’s trying to cut us off from each other,” the dwarf king explained.
“What can we do about it?” Michael asked.
“Master Chu?”
“Already working on it,” the wizard said.
That should have been reassuring, but as far as Michael could see, Master Chu wasn’t doing anything but standing there and smiling and fiddling with his beard.
Soon, the first tendrils were reaching over the prow of the ship, long gray snakes of cold, damp air. It was almost like sailing into a dream. Michael watched the other ships vanish, one by one, as their keel continued cutting steadily through the water, propelled by the enchanted wind that Magda von Klappen and Master Chu had summoned. Now and then, t
here was the muffled sound of a bell or a shout. Otherwise, silence. Michael felt Wilamena take his hand.
On they went, and time too seemed to be lost in the mist. Then the wrinkled dwarf helmsman said, “We must be no more than a thousand yards from Loris, I’d bet my beard.”
King Robbie muttered something, a curse, perhaps, then: “Master Chu?”
“Almost there.”
To Michael, Master Chu still appeared to be doing nothing but smiling and touching his beard, and he was about to ask why didn’t they stop until they got rid of the fog, when Captain Anton stepped in front of Michael and the elf princess, an arrow notched on his bowstring.
“What is it?” King Robbie said, and the words were scarcely out when the elf captain loosed an arrow up into the mist—another instantly on his string—and a swarm of black shapes swept howling down out of the fog, and King Robbie cried, “Cover!” and threw Michael to the deck. Michael’s breath was knocked out of him, but he could still see the creatures raking across the ship, tearing at dwarves and men with their claws and disappearing upward into the fog.
“Archers!” King Robbie roared, his ax gripped in his right hand. “Watch the captain! Follow his lead!”
There was movement everywhere now, shields were up, swords and spears at the ready, men and dwarves scoured the mist for any sign of attack.
“There!”
The elf captain shot his arrow into the fog, Michael heard a distinct, muted thud, and instantly a whispering hail of arrows followed it upward as the creatures swooped down. Three of the creatures fell clumsily onto the deck, more splashed into the water, wounded or dead, but others made it through the rain of arrows, and all around them dwarves and men were struck down or knocked into the sea. One of the creatures was flopping about on the deck just in front of Michael, an arrow sticking from its chest. The thing was the size of a vulture, with batlike wings, claws as long as Michael’s hands, a body that was all leathery skin and bone.
King Robbie swung his ax, and the creature’s head leapt from its body. The dwarf king heaved the carcass over the side.
“Princess,” King Robbie said, “any help, I’d appreciate it.”