The Emerald Atlas (25 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Raven

Emma and Gabriel, along with the girl Dena and the rest of the band, climbed the mountain along no trail that Emma could see, but that Gabriel and the others seemed to know by heart. Gabriel explained they would circle the peak to a secret tunnel that the village scouts used to spy on the Dead City. The way was steep and rocky, and they had been climbing for less than half an hour when Gabriel abruptly picked Emma up and swung her onto his back.

“We must move more quickly.”

Gabriel had not wanted to take Emma. But Granny Peet had insisted.

“She is tied to the
Atlas
. If you find it, you will need her.”

“That’s right,” Emma had said. “And you gotta take Dena too. Or I’m not coming.”

And so Emma had been outfitted with new clothes and boots and a knife and, an hour after the meeting, she and Dena and the small band of men had been given a blessing from Granny Peet and had set off up the mountain.

Gabriel called for them to stop in a stand of pines just below the summit while he sent a scout to the tunnel entrance. The men squatted and checked their weapons in silence. Gabriel was conferring quietly with two of his men, so Emma wandered off through the trees. Ten yards in, the mountain gave way to a sharp cliff. Emma found a boulder jutting out past the trees and scrambled up the side.

Lying on her stomach, she had a view out across the valley, and for the first time in two days, she saw Cambridge Falls. The blue expanse of lake shone jewel-like in the midday sun, and on its far side, Emma could make out a dark clustering she guessed was the houses of the town.

Seeing Cambridge Falls again, the place where everything had begun, made her think of her brother and sister. Granny Peet had said Dr. Pym was with them. That gave her hope. Perhaps Kate and Michael would even be waiting in the village when she and Gabriel returned. Wouldn’t that be something? Arriving in the village having defeated the Countess’s Screechers, leading all those poor, grateful men. Michael would no doubt want to hear the details of the battle, but she’d just wave her hand and say, “Oh, you know how battles are. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” And if Kate scolded her for abandoning them back in the tunnels, Emma would apologize and tell Kate she was absolutely right. “Though,” she would add after a moment’s pause, “if I hadn’t gone back, I couldn’t have saved Gabriel’s life, but you know best, Kate dear.” Emma smiled, and for a moment she actually relaxed, allowing herself to savor the warmth of the rock beneath her, the cool of the wind against her face, and what was, in many respects, a beautiful summer’s day.

“You oughta get down from there.”

Emma lifted herself up and looked back over her shoulder. Dena stood just inside the trees.

“Someone could see you.”

Emma laughed. “Who’s gonna see me up here?”

“You don’t know. The witch, she’s got ways. You shouldn’t take the chance.”

Emma sensed the girl was right; unfortunately, whenever someone told Emma she “should” do this or “shouldn’t” do that, her lifelong habit had been immediately to do the exact opposite.

“Let her see me. I’m not afraid of her.”

Just then a
caaawww
echoed across the valley. Emma looked up to see a large black raven soaring high above their heads. She felt a sudden queasiness in the pit of her stomach as she remembered what Abraham had said the night they escaped from the mansion, that the Countess used birds as spies. Emma was trying to make up her mind what to do when she heard feet pounding down through the trees, and Gabriel was there, calling to her in a fast, angry hiss:

“Get down! Now!”

She scrambled off the rock, skinning the heels of her hands.

Gabriel unslung his long rifle and put it to his shoulder. The bird was flying away from them, and though it grew smaller and smaller with each wingbeat, Gabriel didn’t fire. He merely followed it, as if there were an invisible string stretching from the bird to the tip of his rifle. With each passing second Emma’s panic rose, and she prayed for him to shoot, as if by killing the bird he could erase her fault. Finally, he did, when the bird was no more than a black speck against the blue. For a moment, nothing happened, and Emma was sure he’d missed. Then the bird torqued sideways and fell in a twisting spiral into the trees.

The other men were beside him now, gathered at the edge of the cliff.

“One of her messengers. She knows.”

“Perhaps.” Gabriel slung the rifle back across his shoulder. “Our only hope is speed. We leave immediately.”

As one, the men disappeared into the trees up the hill.

Emma seized Gabriel’s hand. She was on the verge of tears. “Gabriel, I’m … It’s my fault. Dena told me to get down, but I was stupid.… I …”

Gabriel knelt beside her. She expected him to be angry. The mission was already dangerous; now it was only more so. But when he looked at her, he seemed simply disappointed. Somehow, it made her feel even worse.

“If the raven was tracking us, it has been tracking us since the village. Seeing you made no difference. Come.”

He turned and allowed her to clamber onto his back. She locked her arms around his neck, burying her head against his shoulder as he rose and started up the mountain. Hot, silent tears streamed down her face, her fantasies of a minute before, of acting haughty when she saw Kate and Michael, returning to haunt her. She promised herself she would be smarter. She would do whatever Gabriel said, sacrifice whatever was asked, if only it meant seeing her brother and sister again. She would be better.

Emma closed her eyes and let herself be borne, effortlessly, up the mountain.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Battle of the Dead City

Hamish had refused to get out of the pool. He stood there, waist-deep in the black water, knife in one hand, roaring at the Secretary and his Screechers to come get him. But something must’ve brushed his leg, for he gave a yelp and, with one remarkably nimble leap, flew out of the pool. He was fallen upon and bound immediately. Even then, with a Screecher’s boot on his neck, he kept up a string of curses.

The Secretary ignored him. Grinning victoriously at Kate, he jerked his football-shaped head toward the stairs, and the
morum cadi
yanked the dwarves to their feet and began marching them up toward the Dead City.

Kate and Michael, the only two whose hands weren’t tied, were allowed to walk together, in the middle of the group. Wallace and the white-bearded Fergus were at the head, while Hamish, who sounded like he was being dragged protesting up each step, brought up the rear.

“Kate …”

“I know. It’ll be okay.”

“You always say that. How is it going to be okay?”

Kate had to admit Michael had a point. “I don’t know. But it will be. I’ll think of something.”

She took his hand and for a moment they walked in silence, listening to Hamish cursing the Screechers behind them.

“So what did you see?” Michael asked, even more quietly than before. “What were you going to tell me?”

Kate opened her mouth to tell him about their mother, but the words that came out were, “I saw … Dr. Pym.”

“You saw Dr. Pym? In the past?”

Kate had to shush him, and he continued in an excited hiss:

“Oh, Kate, that’s not a coincidence. Absolutely not! The odds would be … Well, I’d need a calculator, but it would be highly, highly unlikely that the book would happen to take you to Dr. Pym. You’d better tell me everything.”

So as they climbed the steep corkscrew of stairs, she told Michael about Dr. Pym, the study, the snowy city outside the window. But though she commanded herself—Tell him who you saw, he deserves to know—each time she started to, she was seized by an inexplicable fear. In the end, she said nothing, and the memory of seeing their mother stayed locked inside her.

“Amazing,” Michael said. “He’s up to something. Some wizardy plot; I can feel it. But how were you able to come back without the book? You need it to move through time. Then again, the book took you to Dr. Pym and you didn’t need a photo. It’s all very curious.”

“I kno—”

Suddenly, Kate heard something and looked over her shoulder. The Secretary, wheezing from the climb, had come up behind them. “What are you two birdies talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure. Just so happy to see you again. Very bad losing you in the tunnels. Couldn’t tell the Countess that. Thought to myself, Where will they go? Clever little birdies like them. To the book, of course. So off I hurried to the Dead City. And came you did. Saw you and the little dwarvsies, sneak-sneak-sneaking around.” He coughed violently and hacked something gray against the wall. “But where is little sister? Separated? Lost? Dead, perhaps? Such a shame.” He clucked his tongue in exaggerated sympathy, and Kate had to fight the urge to knock him backward down the stairs.

She gripped Michael’s hand fiercely. “Don’t listen to him.”

They climbed on in silence and, half an hour later, entered the Dead City.

The Screechers led Michael and Kate and the dwarves down rutted, debris-littered streets between the shells of ancient buildings. Overhead, dozens of lamps hissed gassily, casting everything in a yellow-green hue. Everywhere they passed Screechers. There seemed to be no end to the black-clad ghouls. Finally, the party stopped at the edge of what Kate guessed had once been the main square. Four enormous open-air cages had been erected, and the children watched as a line of thin, hollow-eyed men were driven into one by a crew of Screechers. More men—perhaps fifty total—huddled in the other cages. They sat or stood about listlessly, like ghosts, but as awareness of the dwarves and even more—or so it seemed to Kate—of her and Michael spread among them, the men began to gather at the bars of their cages, staring at the children with wide, sunken eyes.

The Secretary hissed an order, and she and Michael were wrenched apart—Michael and the dwarves herded toward the cages, while the Secretary, with a clammy hand locked about her wrist, dragged her toward one of the shattered buildings that ringed the square.

He brought her to a room on the second floor and shut the door.

“Have a seat, my dear.”

The room was empty save for two chairs, a desk, and a gas lamp that hung on a chain from the ceiling. The setup of the furniture, along with the air of displeased authority, reminded Kate of Miss Crumley’s office at the orphanage. How long ago had that been? A month? A year? Had it even happened yet? Of course, Miss Crumley’s office wasn’t missing a wall the way this one was. Kate stepped toward the edge, hoping to see Michael in the square below.

The Secretary slammed his hand on the desk, startling Kate.

“Little birdies should do what they’re told. Now pleeeeaaasssse, have a seat!”

Reluctantly, Kate came and sat across from him. The man folded his hands and attempted something like a smile. It was then Kate saw the tiny yellow bird peeking out of his jacket. The head and beak were visible for only a moment, then disappeared. The man seemed not to have noticed. He was staring at Kate with a hungry expression.

“So, my dear, you opened the vault?”

Kate shrugged.

“Don’t know what that means, do you? But I do. Didn’t I see it, hmm? Yes, moment you arrived. Before even the Countess, I saw.” As he spoke, his fingers twisted themselves into knots. “The first dwarfie we caught told me how you opened the vault when no one else could. How you touched the book and, poof, disappeared. Then came back, but no book. Just you. Dim-dumb Hamish couldn’t have been happy about that, could he?” He clucked his tongue. “Not happy at all. But”—he gave Kate another of his hideous smiles—“to business—once you touched the book, exactly what happened? And please, be as precise as possible.”

Kate said nothing.

“Not talking? Of course, so brave. Such a heart. But …” He turned his head and whistled. A few moments later, the door opened and a Screecher entered, carrying a brutal-looking crossbow. He took up a position behind Kate, where the open wall looked out over the square. Kate watched in horror as he fitted a bolt into the instrument and cranked it back.

“What’s he doing?!”

“Why, he’s going to kill someone. Now, I’ll not pretend I’m going to harm your brother. You both are far too valuable. However, for every one of my questions you don’t answer, he will kill a man from Cambridge Falls, no doubt the beloved father to one of those dear children you met back with the Countess. Understand?”

Kate nodded numbly.

“Excellent. So you touched the book and …”

“I … went into the past.”

“See, that wasn’t difficult. When in the past?”

“I’m not sure. A few years, I think.”

“And?”

“And then I came back.”

The Secretary barked at the Screecher, shocking Kate with the abrupt harshness of his voice. “Kill one!”

“Wait! Wait! Okay … Dr. Pym was there.”

“Ah! So the old wizard has his hand in this. I suspected as much. A powerful adversary. Very powerful indeed. And perhaps this wasn’t the birdie’s first time meeting the good doctor, hmm? You had a previous acquaintance?”

“Yes,” Kate said quietly.

“The picture becomes clear. And did anyone else attend this pleasant reunion?”

Kate hesitated. The Secretary raised his hand.

“Yes! There was … a woman.”

“A woman. Any guesses who?”

Kate shook her head.

“So just a random woman. Of no importance. Hmm.” He scratched the side of his head with a jagged nail, then looked at the Screecher. “I changed my mind. Kill the brother.”

Instantly, the Screecher brought the crossbow to his shoulder.

“No! I’ll tell you! Please!”

The Secretary held up a finger. The black-garbed creature paused, waiting.

“It was … my mother.”

“Your mother? That’s very odd. Very odd indeed …” As Kate watched, he took the yellow bird from inside his jacket and began to caress its head, cooing, “What’s he doing, my love? Why the child’s mother? How could …” The Secretary began to giggle. “Yes, yes, of course, ingenious. And elegant. Clever old man.” He stowed the bird in his jacket and gave Kate his widest, most revolting grin yet. “Well, if the book is in the past, you’ll just have to go back and get it, won’t you, my dear?”

“What’re you talking about? That’s impossible! I can’t!”

“Ah yes, for how can you go into the past to retrieve the book if you need the book to go into the past? Doesn’t make a great deal of sense, does it? A conundrum. A puzzle. Indeed. Shall I tell you?” He jumped up, scuttling around the desk till he was in front of Kate, pinning her shoulders back and staring into her eyes. “You’ve been having visions, haven’t you? Things you can’t explain. That is because part of the book has passed into you. You and your little brother and sister are the chosen three. And the
Atlas
has already marked you as its own!”

Kate’s mind was spinning. The
Atlas
. It was the first time she had heard the name.

“What do you … what do you mean, marked me?” Kate couldn’t stop her voice from trembling.

“The
Atlas
is an ocean of power. A few drops of it now run through your veins. Can’t the little birdie feel it?”

As much as Kate wanted to tell the stringy-haired man she didn’t believe him, the fact was, she did. Ever since that night in the orphanage in Cambridge Falls when the blackness had crept off the page and into her fingers, she had known something in her had been changed.

“You mean, I can travel through time?”

The Secretary let out a rough laugh and released her. Kate felt the blood returning to her shoulders. The man began pacing back and forth, yanking on his fingers as he spoke.

“No no no no no! By yourself, not possible, not possible! But with the help of a powerful witch or wizard? Oh yes. You see what the old man did? He wanted to hide the
Atlas
from the Countess and her master. Where safer than in the past? So he puts a spell on the little birdie, makes her travel back in time. Then he has the birdie leave the book with him, thinking the two of them can retrieve it anytime they like.”

“But it’ll disappear!” Kate cried. “It’s already disappeared!”

“True,” the Secretary said, mock-thoughtfully. “The book’s no more! E-vap-o-rated years ago!” He smiled at Kate and then did something truly repellent—he winked. “But what if old man Pym sends the birdie back to the second just after she brought him the book? Hmm? What about that?”

Finally, Kate understood. Yes, the book was gone. It had disappeared a half hour after she left it in the past. But for that half hour, however many years ago, the book had existed. Dr. Pym would simply have her return to that window in time.

“But how can he send me into the past?! I still don’t—”

The Secretary’s patience was ebbing.

“Is the birdie deaf? The power is in her now! The wizard can call upon it!” Leaning close, he ran a filthy finger along Kate’s cheek. “Must’ve anchored her here with the same spell that gave the memory, hmm? Made it easy to reel her back. Kept his birdie on a short string, didn’t he?”

Kate was trying her best to put it all together. In the throne room, Dr. Pym had done something to her, cast some spell that had made the book (or
Atlas
, as the Secretary was calling it) take her to a moment in the past. And somehow that same spell had kept her tied to this time, so once she’d given Dr. Pym the book, she was yanked back to the moment she’d left.

The Secretary was pacing again, rubbing his hands together. “Ingenious, ingenious! To hide it in the past! Thinks he’s foiled the Countess. She can look all she wants, but no book, no
Atlas
, hmm? Doesn’t exist! Gone gone gone! Only too bad for him, the Countess also has the power to send the birdie back in time. And she will, my dear. Oh, she will.”

“But”—Kate hated asking the wretched man anything, especially this, but couldn’t stop herself—“why was my mother there?”

“Why? Why? That is everything!” he shrieked gleefully. “Yes, a brilliant detail. You see, the sly old fox knew that one day he would have you retrieve the prize, and even with the power in you, it is no simple thing to send someone across time. Before, his spell could borrow on the power of the
Atlas
. Now, there’s just the little birdie. Much more difficult. Requires a strong connection to the moment you wish to reach. A bond, yes? So what did the wise doctor do? He gave you a memory that would outshine all others. One that would burn like fire in your heart. He gave you your mother.”

Kate didn’t dare move. She had been holding herself together through force of will, but in that moment, she felt as if she were suddenly about to break apart.

Just then there was a squawking and something large and black tumbled through the open wall and crashed onto the floor. The Screecher swung around his crossbow, but the Secretary screamed, “No!”