Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (9 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nat lapped the early morning joggers occupying the inner lanes of the indoor track. Her feet flew over the spongy surface. She lengthened her stride, pushing herself to run faster. Sweat poured from her brow and stung her eyes. She wiped it away and glanced at the vine and spear markings on her forearm before quickly looking at the massive clock hanging high on the wall. The thick black hands read 5:45. She’d been running almost an hour.

The white lane lines blurred and turned a hue of pink against the reddish color of the track. The color reminded her of the red boulder. She slowed her pace. Bright lights reflected off the bleachers set against one wall of the athletic facility. Estos sat on the lowest row and leaned over the tubular guardrail that separated the bleachers from the track. She ran by twice without lifting her eyes. On the third pass, she stopped right in the middle of the track and stared up at him.

“What do you want?” she said, her chest heaving.

“I need to talk to you, Natalie—please.” His eyes looked slate gray from where she stood. She tilted her chin and let out a long, slow breath. The tip of her ponytail clung to her sweaty back. She jogged farther down the track and grabbed a dented water bottle and towel. The metal stairs leading to the bleachers made a hollow ringing sound with each step she took. She draped the towel over her neck, unscrewed the water bottle, and walked along the narrow walkway toward Estos. He stood and rubbed his palms against his pants.

Good, he’s nervous,
she thought as she took a swig of water. She sat on the grooved bleacher and watched the joggers pass on the other side of the guardrail.

“May I tell you a story?”

“That’s an odd way to start this conversation, but go ahead. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” She kept looking at the track, but sensed each small movement he made when he sat next to her.

“There’s a place called Fourline.”

“Not Canada.” She pressed the water bottle against her lips.

“No, not Canada.” He laughed and Nat couldn’t help herself. She turned and gave him a wry smile. Little lines formed around his eyes when he smiled in return, but dark circles lingered under his long lashes. She wiped the towel across her neck.

“About six years ago, my sister was killed right after her coronation as regent of Fourline.” The laughter disappeared from his eyes.

Nat’s hand froze midair. She carefully placed her bottle on the bench.

“A man my family trusted for decades secretly ordered her murder. He took over as temporary regent. He lied to the people, making them believe the Sisters—people like Barba and Ethet—had a hand in her death. Then he began systematically destroying the Sisters’ Houses and everything that made our country prosperous and safe. He told my people that the Sisters had conspired with”—he paused and glanced at his clenched fists—“with an enemy that was wreaking havoc along our coastline and southern forests. He sowed so much fear that enough people started to believe him, thinking he was the only one who could protect Fourline after my sister’s murder.” His voice was full of bitterness, and Nat felt an overwhelming sense of loss when she examined his face. She held her questions and listened.

“I was too young to do anything, too young to rightfully assume the position of regent after her. And for a while, Mudug had me believing the Sisters had conspired against my family. But then he tried to have me killed as well.” Estos rubbed the scar running from his ear down his neck. “If it hadn’t been for Sister Barba and the sanctuary of your world, I’d be dead now, too. She helped us flee before Mudug could kill me.”

Nat closed her eyes and tried to push the enigma of the passage momentarily from her thoughts. “This man, Mudug, wants you dead?”

Estos nodded. “If I’m dead, he can rightfully claim the regency after my coming of age passes next year. In a year, if I’m alive and claim the throne, he’ll have to step down. If he doesn’t, there will be war.” His voice resonated with grave certainty. Nat looked at him in wonder.

“And you’ve been stuck here, hiding all this time?”

“For my safety, I haven’t been back since I passed through.” He averted his eyes from hers but not before she saw his pain. “About two years ago, Oberfisk, at great risk to himself, journeyed back. He was able to make contact with the rebels and apprise them of my well-being. Keeping me alive in the minds of the people of Fourline is critical. If the people think I’m dead, the country will support Mudug next year. He’s constructed such a web of lies about the Sisters conspiring with . . .” He paused and gripped the guardrail. “If I don’t return, they’ll believe he’s the only one who can keep them safe.”

Safe from what?
Nat wondered.

“We tried to send more messengers through after Oberfisk, but then little things started happening.” His forehead creased. “Less than a year ago, the trips became . . . Mudug seemed to know right where we’d be. Last spring, I sent Oberfisk in to do just what you did two nights ago, and an arrow barely missed his head. We even tried sending Annin in, but Mudug was able to track her movements.” He shook his head in frustration. “I doubt anyone would’ve believed her, anyway, even if she’d been able to deliver the message.” A shadow crossed his face. Nat wondered what he meant. “Mudug is somehow able to find us when we’re in Fourline.”

“So you decided to send me, some random person, into a place that shouldn’t even exist to see if I’d get attacked, too?” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.

“No, that’s not it at all.” He threw his hands in the air. “I would never have sent you in if I thought you’d be in danger. And you’re the furthest thing from random.”

“You just said Oberfisk almost got an arrow through his head!” A jogger looked up from the track. Nat lowered her voice, thinking Andris had it right—no one would ever believe any of this. “You sent me in like some guinea pig,” she said, anger seething in her voice.

“You aren’t a guinea pig. You’re our best hope.” He sounded defiant. His blue-gray eyes searched her face. She didn’t know what to believe, but the honesty in his expression kept her next to him, listening. “I know Mudug is targeting my guard and those who helped me flee,” he said in a low voice. “But he has no knowledge of you. He can’t even imagine that someone like you exists. Just like you wouldn’t have conceived that my world exists three days ago.” He spread his arms wide. “I bet on your anonymity and it worked. You did it. Those guards you saw proved you can travel freely through Fourline.”

“How?” she asked, cringing slightly at the thought he’d bet on her.

“Trust me, if they’d known you were there, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. None of my people have been able to move in and out of the passage without Mudug’s men honing in on them within a short period of time. But you did it.” He placed his hand over hers. “You did it.”

Nat stared at the metal bleachers under her feet. “Why me, Estos? There are hundreds or thousands of people you could have—”

He let go of her hand and leaned against the row behind them. “Sister Barba’s been assessing you since last year. You met her criteria.”

“Criteria?” She gaped at him.

“She used to select candidates—women who were trained to keep a needed balance in our world.”

“Sisters?” she guessed, thinking of the brief explanation Barba had given her before her journey.

“Yes, Sisters. You caught her attention when you arrived last year. She noticed something about you. We’ve been watching you ever since.”

Nat tried to imagine anything about herself worth watching, let alone assessing. She let out a rueful laugh. “What did she notice? That I’m a stressed-out mess?”

“You have a combination of strength, intelligence, and empathy that’s unusual, Natalie Barns.” The sincerity in his voice made her blush. “Sister Barba and I agree that if you lived in our world, you would make an extraordinary Sister.” He gently lifted her chin, sending a shiver down her spine, then dropped his hand to his side. “And we have something to offer you in return.”

“Money.” She arched her brow.

“It is a means to an end. But there’s more than money—there’s knowledge.” He shrugged and gave her a sheepish look. Silence fell between them, and Estos looked at her expectantly.

“Before my journey, I would have told you to walk away and never speak to me again,” she said. He nodded as if in agreement. “But I have too many questions now to do that.” She looked up at the ceiling. “What you just told me and where you sent me . . . I don’t understand how your world even exists.”

“Natalie, if I’ve learned one thing since I’ve passed into your world, it’s that the unknown far exceeds the known. With time, we can provide more answers, but unfortunately, time is not a luxury I have. Andris told you that you have a choice. I need you to help us again and go back in for me.” He sounded almost pleading. “My home . . .” He cleared his throat. “But it is your decision.”

She pressed her fist to her lips and regarded him.

“Will you think about it?” He brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face and stood.

She nodded, thinking she must be going crazy.

“Thank you.” He gazed past her. “Looks like my fifteen minutes are up,” he said and gave her one last hopeful look before clanking up the steps. He disappeared through a door high above the stands right beneath the clock. Nat sat on the bleachers for a long time, watching the hands of the clock tick by.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A week passed. The snow melted, creating a series of muddy quagmires on campus. Nat took her morning runs through town instead of at the indoor track. She didn’t want another encounter with Estos. She needed time to think about where she’d been, what he had told her, and his request.

Her thoughts constantly drifted away during class. Her preoccupation with Estos and Fourline was all-consuming. It was a good thing the registrar’s office had Nat’s tuition payment. She couldn’t imagine that stress on top of the crazy situation she found herself in. She’d half expected the office to reject the money when she’d made the payment.
Imaginary world, imaginary money,
she’d thought.

Paying her parents’ mortgage payment and late fee had been a little trickier than simply handing over the cash. She had to get MC to send her the account information without their knowledge. Even though she was in fourth grade, MC was the most tech-savvy member of the family. She snuck the statement into the scanner at their mom’s school, saved it to a flash drive, then e-mailed it to Nat. Sharing the information over the phone seemed the easiest way to Nat, but not MC. Nat called her mom after she’d made the mortgage payment.

“What do you mean you got a tuition refund?” Her mom’s voice held that weary suspicion that Nat had heard anytime she’d arrived home late at night past her curfew.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it?” Nat responded, hating the ridiculous sound of her voice as she told the bald-faced lie. “I guess I had the figures on one of my scholarships wrong.”

“Why didn’t they apply it to next semester’s payment, Nat?” She could hear MC in the background, trying to distract her mom.

“No idea.” Another lie. “Anyway, it was your money. I hope you don’t mind that I sent it to the bank. After our last conversation, that seemed like the most pressing bill.” Nat was trying to keep her voice casual.

“Strange that the overpayment was in the precise amount we needed for the mortgage payment and late fee, Nat.” MC’s voice grew louder in the background. “Even stranger that you had our account information.” Her mom was onto her like flies on honey.

“Uh . . .”

“Marie Claire, what is your problem?” Nat heard muffled voices, then her mom came back on. “Your sister is about to bust, talk to her. You and I will finish this conversation later.”

MC’s voice came on instantly. “Hey, Nat, guess what, Nat, Blue had twins!” She sounded like she’d gotten into the powdered lemonade mix. “We’ve got twin lambs!”

Nat played along with the conversation. “Great, MC, she doing okay?”

“Yep, she’s fine. She’s a good mom. I’ve got her in the back pen where it’s nice and quiet. You can’t even hear Cal’s boyfriend’s stereo when he picks her up in the morning.” MC made a deep thumping sound mimicking the stereo bass. Then silence.

“Is Mom gone?” Nat asked.

“Yeah . . . she’s in the kitchen,” MC whispered. “She was all over you. I couldn’t think of what else to do. Sorry for being so idiotic sounding about the lambs, they are totally fine and totally cute.”

“MC, I owe you. A lot. Thanks for getting me the bank information and taking care of Blue.” Nat grew silent as she remembered the blue animal or thing jumping through the trees.

“Are you still there?” MC asked.

“Yeah, I was just thinking of something I saw the other day. Keep me posted on Blue. And on Mom and Dad, too, okay? If you hear them talking or stressing out, let me know.” Not that she could help, but knowing never hurt anybody.

“Okay. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

Before she hung up, Nat promised to try to visit in the next few weeks. She knew she was lying even as she made the promise. The need to work and study to keep her grades up had not magically vanished after the windfall from Estos. The semester would be over before she knew it, and she would be out of work for three weeks before the interim term started.

Nat put her phone down and returned to the chemical diagram on the screen of her computer. She stared at it a moment and then minimized the screen. The cursor in the text box of the search engine blinked. She typed “alternate universe,” and her finger paused over “Enter.” She pressed the backspace key. It wasn’t an alternate universe. Maybe it was some kind of subterranean land? But subterranean meant no sunlight. The cursor continued to blink. Nat leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms. Her conversation with Estos left her with more questions than answers. She rubbed her hand. The puncture marks from the tree needles were fading but still visible.

“You got a tattoo and didn’t tell me?” Viv entered the dorm room and slammed the door behind her. “This isn’t even one of those little rebellious butterflies on the ankle, this is a serious tattoo.” She held Nat’s arm suspended in the air while she examined the vines.

“It’s not permanent.” Nat pulled her arm down. “Sis—Barba was just working on some ideas for a costume, and I was her guinea pig.” She thought of Estos’ face and the way he’d refuted her claim that they’d treated her like a lab experiment.

“Earth to Nat.” Viv waved her hand in front of her face. “What kind of ink is it?” She touched the tip of one of the tiny spears.

“I think it’s similar to henna,” Nat said, scrambling for some reasonable explanation. Not even Viv would believe her if she told the truth.

“How utterly disappointing.” Viv plopped into a chair and picked up a book. “What kind of costume?” She peered over her book.

“Huh?”

“What kind of costume was Barba working on? Is it for a play?”

“Some medieval-warrior-type character, I think. She was pretty tight on the details,” Nat said. She pulled up the chemical diagram, knowing she needed to focus on schoolwork.

“Make sure you charge them extra for using you as a guinea pig. If your mom sees that, she’s going to flip out.” Viv’s legs hung off the side of the circular chair.

“I did get money out of it.” Still distracted, Nat examined the vines. She grabbed her phone, took a picture of her arm, and uploaded it onto the computer. “Viv, what was the site you mentioned once where you can match designs and artwork to their source?”

Viv got up and pulled out her laptop. “Your computer is medieval, send the picture to me and I’ll run the search.” After a few moments, she turned the screen to Nat. “Does this look familiar?” A faded illustration made from an etching showed a long-eared rabbit sitting in front of four enormous boulders. Each boulder was covered with designs carved into the surface of the stone. Viv tapped the stone on the far left and magnified the image. The vines with little spears encircled the face of the boulder.

“‘
The Long-Eared Hare Loses the Race
by Thomas Gate.’” Nat read the caption aloud. “I wonder if Thomas Gate is related to Professor Gate.” She typed “Thomas Gate” into the search engine while Viv studied the picture. “Here he is. ‘Thomas Gate, born in Canada, died 1960. Author of children’s series Long-Eared Hare. Professor at Westin College, 1940–1960.’ There must be some relation.” Nat turned to Viv, who was holding her laptop at a distance.

“Nat, check this out.” Viv pulled the image down and enlarged it even more. A tiny figure with a smooth body crouched on top of a distant boulder. Nat couldn’t make out any features or expression, but knew that it was waiting to spring on the rabbit. “A little creepy for a children’s book.” Viv made a face.

Nat said nothing and handed the laptop back. She’d seen that figure before, jumping through trees in a forest that shouldn’t exist.