Always October (32 page)

“In moments the Clock of Separation will strike the thirteenth moon. When the first chime sounds, the child and I will enter the Sphere of Division. Once within, we will be pulled in two directions as our human sides are separated from our monster sides. I would prefer to do this on my own. Alas, as we learned in our first disastrous attempt, I have been too long settled in my form and so need a key, a trigger. That is why it has been so urgent to obtain Dum Pling! Because he is only one quarter human, it will be easier to pull that part from him. The magical energy released by
his
separation will spark and fuel my own division. And the energy released by
that
transformation will power the silver blade that hangs above me.”

He walked to the tapestry and began to stroke it. “This has taken years to prepare,” he said lovingly. “It does more than merely represent both Humana and Always October. Through careful gathering of magic it has been imbued with their essences. When that blade, powered and driven by the rending of my human side from my monster side, lowers to slice through the tapestry, it will also slice apart the worlds. At last Always October will be free to be its own self!”

“But, Mazrak, what will happen to
you
?” called one of the monsters.

My half-uncle shrugged his massive shoulders. “I know not whether either the baby or I will survive. If death is to come, let it come. Freedom is not earned without a price!”

“That may be true, but you don't get to pay that price with Little Dumpling!” I muttered fiercely.

Listening to Mazrak describe what he planned to do had my guts churning. The idea of Always October dissolving—which Keegel Farzym and the Poets believed would happen if Mazrak and the Unravelers had their way—was horrible to think of. The idea of the human world descending into a crippling dark age of fear was terrifying. The thing was, I couldn't fully grasp what either of those events meant. They were too big for me to comprehend. But thinking of what Mazrak was willing to do to Little Dumpling filled me with a mix of rage and terror that drove out all other thoughts.
How dare he?

It was two minutes until the clock would begin to chime. The crowd of monsters grew ever more excited.

Creeping from stalagmite to stalagmite, I led my little band toward our captive friends. As we moved, I kept one eye constantly on the gathering at the center of the cavern.

I longed to attack on my own, to try to destroy that sphere and free Little Dumpling. But I knew I would be stopped before I could get anywhere near it. Our only hope was to free Keegel Farzym and the others so we could attack together.

Mazrak, still holding the baby, walked to the bubble. Like a magician demonstrating the trick he was about to perform, he rapped on it with his right hand. A clear, bell-like sound rang out. Placing his palm flat on the surface, he began to chant.

The clock chimed, a deep, slow bong that struck terror into my heart. As it did, the bubble let out a burst of light so strong that I had to turn my eyes away.

When I turned back, Mazrak and the baby were inside the sphere.

That was when Little Dumpling began to scream.

L
ittle Dumpling's screams pierced my heart. Looking toward the sphere where Jacob's half-uncle was clutching the baby, I saw that both of them had begun to vibrate!

Because the drama at the Silver Slicer had completely captured the attention of the gathered monsters, we abandoned stealth and raced to the stalagmites.

My grandfather was the first to spot us. His eyes widened, but he did no more than turn his head to the side and quietly inform Mrs. McSweeney we were there. Soon all four of our friends were aware of us.

As the second chime sounded, we darted behind the imprisoning stalagmites and began to slice at the ropes binding our allies. Jacob worked on freeing Keegel Farzym. Toozle was attempting to release Teelamun. I was torn between my grandfather and Mrs. McSweeney, but figured that with her magic Mrs. McSweeney might be more use in the coming fight. If only there were one more of us so we could free them both at the same time! Then Luna leaped up. Sinking her claws into the rope that held her mistress, she began gnawing at the knots.

The clock chimed again, a long, slow, sonorous sound.

I went to work on my grandfather's bonds, glancing around the stalagmite as I did.

LD was shaking so fast, he was little more than a blur.

On the next chime the silver blade began to swing. Back and forth it went,
swish
,
swish
, dropping slowly toward the tapestry.

It hit the fabric, and the threads began to part. As the blade descended, the pincers on each side of the tapestry plucked at the severed pieces of weft. Strand by strand the yarn was pulled outward, leaving a six-inch-wide patch of warp threads at the tapestry's center. They looked like the strings of a giant harp.

The nature of the world began to change. Things became less clear, less focused. Cutting the ropes that held our friends was made harder by the fact that knives and rope alike were becoming … mushy.

“It is as we feared,” murmured Keegel Farzym.

With a burst of horror, I realized what he meant:
Always October was starting to dissolve!

The fear gave me new strength. I slashed downward with the knife, then felt a wave of relief as the ropes parted. With a small cry of triumph my grandfather pulled his arms free. At the same time I heard a grunt of satisfaction from Keegel Farzym as he, too, pulled away from the stalagmite where he had been bound.

A moment later Teelamun was free, then Mrs. McSweeney.

As the seventh chime sounded, my grandfather darted forward to snatch up his pickax.

And the Silver Blade continued to swing, back and forth, back and forth, parting one by one the threads that bound the worlds together and, in doing so, bound Always October to existence … and Humana to sanity.

Keegel Farzym knelt before us and said softly, “Our only hope is to stop that clock. When I give the word, we attack. Whoever can fight through to the clock, do your best to destroy it.”

Tense, grim, we all nodded. The High Poet stood, then with a bellow of “Release Dumpling!” raced forward. Clutching my knife, I screamed and followed close behind him.

When I reached the line of monsters, I suddenly realized that my small size compared to them was an advantage. They were so focused on the Silver Slicer they didn't even notice me as I slipped between two of them. Then one monster—a hairy beast with a face like a plate full of death—did spot me. He snatched me up, and I thought I was done for. Suddenly a huge blue arm wrapped around my captor's throat.

“The clock!” roared Keegel Farzym as he freed me from the monster's grip. “Get the clock!”

Grampa, Teelamun, and Mrs. McSweeney were working to clear a path toward the clock. Each fought in his or her own style. Grampa, shouting curses, swung his pickax in a big arc. Mrs. McSweeney had pulled a knitting needle from somewhere and was blasting away with it. Teelamun was like some avenging angel of beauty who had spent several decades learning martial arts. With quick kicks and devastating blows, she knocked aside monsters twice her height. Luna had become a hissing, scratching, clawing bundle of energy, leaping from monster to monster.

I spotted Jake to my right. He nodded and the two of us shot forward, dodging between furiously roaring monsters.

At first I feared they would tear us apart. To my surprise, they ignored us. Then I understood why: They had come to the horrified realization that Mazrak had been wrong. With Always October trembling between being and not-being, threatening to dissolve into nothingness, they were confused and terrified.

Jacob and I reached the clock and flung ourselves against it as it was chiming for the eleventh time.

It stood solid. We backed up for another run, and I saw that Toozle had joined us. No, not just Toozle—he had somehow found his other half! We threw ourselves against the clock. It wobbled. Both halves of Sploot Fah scrambled to the top of it. The combined weight of the two bodies overbalanced the clock. It fell backward, landing with a crash.

The blasted thing was still ticking!

As the twelfth chime sounded I leaped into the air, then landed on the clock's face. My feet smashed against the glass. It shattered, and I sank into the clock. The hands stuck up between my ankles, which were bleeding with cuts from the broken glass.

We had stopped the clock before the thirteenth chime. Would it make a difference … or were we too late?

I looked up, and gasped. The Silver Slicer had moved nearly halfway down the tapestry. The monsters were like shadows, crying out in fear as they lost substance. Mazrak was roaring, but I couldn't tell if it was because we had stopped him or because he finally realized he had been wrong and had doomed his world.

He was in worse shape than the other monsters; I could see right through him, as if he were a ghost. He was no longer holding LD, who was on the cave floor in front of him. Like Mazrak, the baby was looking frail and ghostlike.

Bellowing with fury, Jacob ran to the sphere and thrust his hands into it. He tore it open, stepped inside, snatched up the baby.

Weeping, he carried LD back to where I stood.

The only ones not growing misty around the edges were Gnarly, Mrs. McSweeney, Jacob, and myself.

And Luna, of course.

No, there was one more: Toozle and his other half—were they Sploot Fah again yet?—weren't dissolving either. Puzzling, but I had no time to think about it … too busy wondering what would happen if the world continued to dissolve.

Would we be left floating in nothingness?

Then I thought of one last, desperate strand of hope. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out Octavia's silk, which I had put there after I'd unstrapped LD from Jacob's back the last time.

“Give me the baby,” I said.

Jacob looked startled. “Why?”

I held up the silk. “You're the son of a weaver,” I said. “Weave!”

I
stared at the silk thread Lily had pressed into my hands. “You can't be serious!”

Keegel Farzym spoke up. Though his voice was hollow, and sounded as if it came from some great distance, his words were clear: “It might work, Jacob. That silk has wondrous qualities. If you really can weave, you'd better start now!”

I turned to Mrs. McSweeney. “You work with thread,” I said. “You can do this.”

She shook her head. “Blood calls to blood, Jacob. This was all put together by Mazrak. You share blood with him. We'll have a better chance if it's your hands that do the reweaving.”

I stared at the silk, feeling as if I would crumple under the responsibility. The fate of Always October, and maybe Humana, had just been dropped into my hands.

Not to mention the fate of my baby brother.

As if he knew I was thinking of him, LD cried out again.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I'm the son of a weaver. I can do this.”

I stepped toward the tapestry, then stopped, stymied already. “We've got to get that blade out of the way if I'm going to weave this thing back together.”