Balance Keepers #1: The Fires of Calderon (3 page)

W
hatever was moving in the trees nearby, it wasn’t Farnsworth. The figure was much larger than that. A girl, maybe, from the slight build of the shoulders, and the way the figure took such small, delicate steps. Could it be the person he was supposed to deliver the letter to?

“Hey!” Albert shouted. “Hey! Over here!”

Whoever—or whatever—it was, it didn’t answer. When Albert took a step forward, hoping to get a closer look, the person or the thing vanished entirely. A twig snapped to Albert’s right. He whirled around, and there, in the trees, was
another
figure.

This one was tall and thin, most definitely a boy.

“Hey, you!” Albert yelled. He waved his hands. He called out twice. But the person or the shadow or whatever it had been vanished again, right in front of Albert’s eyes.

There were noises, like the night woods had started to come alive. And one of the noises, way up in the distance, was familiar.

“Farnsworth!”

Albert followed the barking through the trees. He got closer and closer to the sound until he found Farnsworth standing in front of him with the soft light of evening bouncing off his little eyes. It was the most welcome sight Albert had ever seen.

“I forgive you for leaving me,” Albert said, as he reached down and placed his hand on the dog’s head, “but could you try not to do that again, please? It’s getting dark out here. And in case you didn’t notice, we’re lost.”

Albert didn’t take his eyes off Farnsworth after that. He was too afraid the little guy would bolt ahead again. So when he finally did look up, what lay before him came as a big surprise. The forest cleared away, like the ground itself was sacred, and there in the middle, an ancient tree stood alone against the night sky. It was the wildest, most peculiar thing Albert had ever seen. The trunk of the tree was as wide as three school buses were long, and so short that if he wanted, Albert could have taken a small leap and been able to skim the leaves with his fingertips. And because he was a boy with a big imagination, he couldn’t help but call the tree by a name that seemed fitting.

“A Troll Tree,” he said, because it was the most accurate description he could think of. It looked like it belonged in the dark wood of a fairy tale.

Albert stood there for a while staring at the thing he’d named a Troll Tree, with a crooked smile on his face. He’d explored these woods for five summers and counting. How had he not come across this monstrous thing before? It had to have been there all along, and just now, at the age of eleven, he had finally discovered it.

Farnsworth barked, a low, rumbling sound that made Albert jump.

“What is it, boy?”

The dog padded forward and grabbed Albert’s shoelace, pulling on it like a chew toy. Farnsworth was dragging him toward the tree, as if it were important. And something in Albert’s feet must have agreed, because they carried him along with the dog. Walking toward the tree was like walking toward some sort of bright, beautiful beacon. Albert’s chest felt lighter. His fingertips tingled, like they wanted to reach out and touch the solid bark.

They circled and circled and circled the tree, or at least that was how it felt to Albert. Finally, just when Albert’s head was starting to spin, Farnsworth raced off, out of Albert’s line of vision. Albert walked a little faster, turning the wide corner around the tree.

“Farnsworth? Hey, buddy?”

Albert looked to the woods searching for the dog, and found instead that while he’d been wandering around the tree, the forest had turned to night. Only a hint of sunset remained, far off on the horizon. The trees swayed softly, like ghosts moving noiselessly closer. Albert backed up against the great tree and began sliding along its rough surface. Somehow, having the solid weight of the endless trunk against his back made him feel less afraid. At least nothing could jump out at him from behind and carry him away.

Suddenly, the coarse feel of the bark on his right palm and fingers changed—now it felt smooth, like polished brass—which made Albert pull his hand back like he’d been shocked by an electric fence.
Okay, this is getting seriously weird
. He inched his fingers out once more and felt the cold, slick surface of something very untreelike. There was nothing left to do but turn around.

There, on the side of the trunk where bark should have been, was a smooth wooden door.

Albert took a step back, confused. Was
this
where his dad had wanted him to end up? It was the only thing that resembled a house he’d come across all day. At least it had a door—that was something. But the map hadn’t led him here. Nothing had, really, not even Farnsworth.

Albert pulled the letter out of his pocket. It was crumpled now, and whoever was behind the door would surely know Albert had read it, but he didn’t care. What he wanted, more than anything, was to get out of the woods.

He took a step forward, swallowed the knot in his throat, and knocked. The sound echoed.

No answer. Albert knocked again, a little harder this time. Maybe the person inside
was
like Pap, and couldn’t hear very well. Maybe they’d grown weary of waiting for their letter and gone to bed. Albert noticed a round copper handle on the door. He reached for it and turned it enough to understand that it was not locked, then pulled his hand back.

“I can’t just wander into someone’s tree house, can I? I’m not even sure that’s legal.”

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the wind made the trees groan and sway. His hand went quickly to the door, and this time he turned the knob all the way.

The door swung inward with a long, loud creak, like it hadn’t been opened for a million years. Surprised that the door had opened at all, Albert remained outside and peered in. It was darker inside than it was outside, like looking into a bottomless well.

“Hello?” Albert called into the tree house. His voice echoed back to him, a ripple of sound. He poked his head in just the slightest bit, and called again. “Is anyone there?”

Albert heard something rushing up behind him, and fearing for his life, he ducked inside and slammed the door shut. His breath came in waves as he realized just how dark it was inside the tree, and then things turned considerably worse—something was moving next to his leg.

The thing chasing me was fast enough to get in here, too,
he thought, his heart skipping a beat. But then he heard the soft pant of a dog, and reaching down, felt the familiar silky fur.

“Farnsworth!” Albert knelt down in the pitch-black and gave the dog a good scratch. “You scared me half to death. If this relationship is going to work, you need to stop running away. Understand?”

Albert kept scratching under Farnsworth’s chin, which helped him feel a little less afraid and a lot less alone. He resolved to go back outside and walk home by the light of the moon. Enough was enough. He could find his way back if he set his mind to it. Albert reached up with one hand—he didn’t want to stop scratching Farnsworth—which was when he realized there was no door handle where there should have been one.

“Uh-oh,” Albert said. “This is bad.
Really
bad.”

He felt all around the door, but it was no use. It was a door with no handle on the inside, a door made for trapping someone. He turned back to Farnsworth and started scratching him behind the ears, hoping beyond all hope that the dog wouldn’t run off again, and that was when Albert screamed for the first time on his adventure. Farnsworth’s bright blue eyes had begun to glow like a Bunsen burner. It was like they were heating up, sending a soft glow of blue light into Albert’s face. Albert tried to back away, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go—the now-bright light confirmed it—there was no door handle to be found.

Albert slowly turned around to face Farnsworth, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Okay, little doggy . . . That fruitcake must have messed up your wiring, huh?” He bent down slowly, got up the courage to scratch the dog behind the ears again, and when nothing else unusual happened, ran his hand back and forth in front of Farnsworth’s eyes.

“Okay, blue light coming from dog’s eyes—no big deal, Albert, no big deal.”

If he was being honest with himself, a dog with glowing eyes was actually pretty cool. But Albert was also stringing together a series of thoughts that led to a terrible conclusion. What if his dad hadn’t really sent the letter and the map? What if the dog was sent by a witch or a warlock or a forest troll? Obviously the dog wasn’t normal. Maybe the dog was sent by a witch to find the new kid in town and lure him into the woods. Albert had made every mistake in the book. He’d followed a dog into the wild, hadn’t left any instructions about where he’d gone, entered a tree, and closed the door behind him.

Albert looked down at Farnsworth, not sure he could trust the dog as much as he once did. The lights in his eyes were still bright, but they had dimmed a little.

“Looks like your light’s going out,” Albert said. He scratched behind Farnsworth’s ear and his blue eyes brightened like a dimmer switch being turned. The dog turned around, sending beams of blue light down a corridor that ended at a wall of dirt and roots. Albert saw for the first time that he really was inside of a tree. There were twisting, turning roots shooting every which way down the middle of a tunnel that led to the wall.

“Whoa,” Albert said.

Farnsworth ran down the tunnel, hopping and ducking as he went, and arrived at the far end, staring back at Albert. It was like looking into two Tonka truck headlights, and the headlights were getting dimmer.

“Man, I wish this dog would sit still,” Albert said.

The thought of everything going pitch-dark again got Albert moving in a hurry. As the light from Farnsworth’s eyes dimmed more and more, Albert made his way expertly through the tangle of thick roots. More than once he had to climb up toward the ceiling to pass through, or slither through the middle like a snake. And just about the time Farnsworth’s pilot light went out, Albert dropped down next to the dog.

He was about to scratch Farnsworth behind the ears again when a sound rang out from his left, where the tunnel turned sharply against the wall of dirt. It was a terrible, shrill squeal, like a door creaking on rusted hinges. Albert’s heart stopped, right there in his chest.

A few feet ahead of Albert, where the tunnel finally ended, a ribbon of light escaped from the bottom of a closed door. There were shadows inside, moving back and forth.

Someone else was in the tree.

A
lbert had been taught all his life not to open closed doors, especially if he did not know what was behind them.

But he’d already broken that rule once, and given the circumstances, it only made sense to break it a second time. He revved up Farnsworth’s eyeballs, a trick he was starting to really get the hang of, and pointed the dog in the direction of the sliver of light. There were no roots to avoid on the short path between him and the door, so he arrived a little faster than maybe he’d wanted.

“Are we doing this?” Albert whispered, looking down at Farnsworth, who was scratching at the door to get in. Albert took a deep breath, recataloged all the terrible decisions that had brought him to this moment, and reminded himself that there was no way out. He starved to death inside of a tree or he forged ahead—those were his options.

Instead of a handle, the door had an outline of a human hand, like it had been carved in, just waiting for someone to press his palm to it. Albert lifted his hand and held it right in front of the handprint. For a second, nothing happened, and Albert let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. But just as he was about to pull his hand away, something changed. There was a hiss, then a click, and a tremble from somewhere inside of the door. Before Albert could react, the door swung open, and a strange orange light shone from within. Whoever had been there before was gone; the space behind the door was empty.

Farnsworth stepped inside and sat down on the floor of an orange platform, wagging his tail like this was any ordinary day, in a very ordinary place. The platform wasn’t large. It seemed to have space enough to hold a few people standing side by side, and so Albert stepped on it, too.

“Now what?” Albert asked Farnsworth. The dog barked, and as soon as he did, the platform began to move.

Down and down it went, deeper and deeper under the forest outside of Herman, Wyoming. Wind rushed up into Albert’s face, and his ears popped the way they did on the airplane when he’d left New York. There was a very real part of Albert that began to think he was either dreaming a really unusual dream or he was the dumbest boy in the world. Those were the only two ways he could imagine ending up in such an outrageous situation.

The platform slowed down quickly, like an elevator coming to a basement floor. Albert stepped off, and found himself standing in a room crisscrossed with copper pipes that twisted and coiled in all directions. Some of them were as fat around as telephone poles; others were thin like a garden hose, wrapped with wires and cables. Steam hissed out of the pipes, filling the place with a damp heat that made Albert’s shirt cling to his skin.

It’s like a mechanical forest,
Albert thought. He found himself frozen there in front of the platform, unable to move.
Where am I?

Farnsworth circled around Albert’s feet, yipping and hopping like he was home and couldn’t wait to show Albert around the place. The dog grabbed ahold of Albert’s shoelace again and started tugging.

“All right,” Albert whispered, unable to speak too loud. He followed Farnsworth through the maze of pipes, ducking every so often as steam escaped from holes in the copper pipes. Soon the pipes started to spread off to the sides of the walls, leaving an open space large enough for him to move comfortably about. And there, just across the room, stood a man, looking downward into what looked like an open grave.

Albert ducked behind a pipe and hid at a safe distance.

It took him a moment to gather the courage to peek out. The man was tall and thin, almost spiderlike, and on his head was a miner’s helmet, the hard kind with a light on top. Wild strands of rusty-orange hair flopped out from the edges of the helmet.

Farnsworth, who looked at Albert like he was crazy for hiding, wagged his tail and took off toward the strange man, barking.

“Hello, Farnsworth,” the man said. “Did you bring the package?”

Oh, great,
Albert thought.
This really is a warlock, Farnsworth is his dog, and I’m about to be cooked in a stew.

Farnsworth yipped across the room.

“Is he, now?” the man said to the little dog.

Albert scooted deeper into the shadow of the pipe, but hot water dripped onto his back from one of the pipes overhead and he jumped out into the open. The warlock, or whatever he was, was too busy to notice, though.

“Move,”
Albert said to himself. “Come on, it’s not that hard. You can do it.”

The man paced back and forth around the open area, peering down into holes Albert couldn’t see the bottom of. Every few seconds he’d stop, reach down with delicate motions as if he was moving pieces on a chessboard, and then slide over to another hole and repeat the process. He mumbled a lot, as if he was trying to coax things to move in certain ways.

“You might as well come out from behind the pipe,” he said at length. “Not much sense in hiding.” Then he went back to work.

Albert took a deep breath and stepped out from the shadows, moving around a fat pipe the size of a giant’s thigh.
So far, so good.

“You have something for me?” the man asked without turning around.

There was a small part of Albert that thought,
Hey, I’m just delivering mail down here, no big deal.

Albert pulled the envelope out of his back pocket and unfolded it. He took two more steps forward and set the envelope on the top of a copper pipe.

“I guess I’ll be on my way, then.” He began backpedaling. “Pleasure meeting you. I can show myself out. Really, it’s no problem.”

“Could you bring it to me?” the man said, holding his hand in Albert’s direction without turning his attention away from whatever weird work he was doing.

Albert picked up the envelope and paced back and forth a few times. What he really wanted to do was leave, but he didn’t really know how to make that possible. He marched toward the wizard or the mad scientist or whatever he was, and resolved to deliver the letter, even if it turned out to be the last thing he ever did.

He passed by one of the holes in the ground on his way to the man. It had a round rail that came to about Albert’s belly button, and not being able to help himself, he peered over the edge. Inside lay something Albert recognized at once as a miniature version of the forest he’d just come from. There it was: the same wide perfect circle of trees. And from above, he could clearly see the streams he’d crossed with Farnsworth, and the paths he had stumbled through. The Troll Tree stood right in the middle, only this one was the size of Albert’s hand. The rail contained an array of buttons and knobs that Albert very much wanted to touch. He reached out his hand, nearly had his finger on a button . . .

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Albert nearly jumped out of his underwear. The man was standing right next to him, staring over Albert’s shoulder like a vulture. Under the miner’s hat, he had two different-colored eyes. One was blue like the sky, the other copper like the pipes around them, and his eyes were carefully observing the small forest inside the hole. The man reached down and turned a knob, crinkled his long, thin nose, and stared into the forest.

“Who are you?” Albert asked. He couldn’t help himself.

The man looked at Albert like he was crazy for not knowing.

“I’m the Path Hider, of course,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Uh . . . Albert,” Albert said. “Albert Flynn.” He held up the letter he’d already opened. “Are you . . . expecting a letter from someone?”

The Path Hider looked at him from the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Albert held out the envelope again and the Path Hider bobbed his head back and forth like an ostrich, examining the envelope every which way. The guy had a really long neck.

“This mail has been opened.”

“Yeah, about that,” Albert stammered. “It was kind of a tough day. I mean, that’s no excuse for opening someone’s mail, but—”

The Path Hider snatched the letter with his spidery fingers before Albert could finish.

“You’re not that easy to find,” Albert said, and then suddenly he couldn’t hold back the questions any longer. “Why’s my name on that letter? How do you know my dad? How come your dog has headlights for eyes? Where am I? What’s going on? What are you
doing
?”

As Albert asked these questions, he watched the Path Hider open the crumpled-up letter. It took him longer than Albert thought was necessary to read four words, but when the Path Hider was done, he looked right at Albert.

“Flynn, you say?”

Albert nodded. “That’s me.”

The Path Hider rubbed his chin. “Wait here a moment.”

Albert watched as the Path Hider stooped down and pressed one of the buttons on the rail, a large one with what looked like a zigzag etched onto its top.

“We must hide the paths,” the Path Hider said. “No one can know of your arrival.”

Okay, that was
one
question answered, at least.
Albert looked down into the hole with an uneasy feeling and watched as the miniature forest began to move, shifting in hundreds of little squares, like Tiles, all around the Troll Tree.

“That’s my forest,” Albert said, astonished. “That’s where I came from.”

The man moved from hole to hole—three of them, Albert noted—pressing buttons, shifting versions of other forests that Albert did not recognize. Some had trees without leaves that looked like bare arms stretching to the sky; others had leaves that were orange and red, the way they turned in New York in the fall.

“Are these real forests?” Albert asked. The man looked up from his spot by a hole, a few feet away.

“As real as a graviton’s hiss, dear boy.” Albert had no idea what a graviton was. “This way, that way,” the Path Hider said.

He waved Albert over. Together, they peered down into a hole Albert hadn’t yet seen. The miniature forests inside, Albert saw, were stacked into three levels. Albert recognized each of the forests as the ones from the other, smaller holes.

“Help me shift it, will you?” the Path Hider asked Albert. He was starting to crank a giant wheel, a big, rusty one that groaned and squealed as Albert helped him turn it.

“I hide the paths,” the Path Hider said, blinking his different-colored eyes, “so that we can keep our secrets safe.”

“What secrets?” Albert asked, but the Path Hider waved him off.

“Later,” he said, and pointed back into the hole. “
Watch
.”

Albert looked on as all three levels of forests shifted and switched places, little pieces of them changing and sliding from left to right, up and down, like a game of Tiles.

When the forests settled, the man smiled.

“Coffee break,” he said.

Albert was so confused he simply followed the Path Hider to a corner of the room, where there was a stained gray couch. He took a seat beside the Path Hider, in the middle of all the pipes and levers and strange holes. Despite the incredible circumstances he found himself in, he was starting to feel less afraid and more curious.

“What kind of mojo are you cooking up down here?” Albert asked.

“Coffee?” The Path Hider held a thermos out to him.

Albert shook his head no, and then ventured one more question he hoped would lead to an answer.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?”

A pipe hissed over their heads. Steam shot down in between them, blurring the Path Hider for a moment. When it cleared away, Albert saw that the man was smiling at him again.

“You’re home, dear boy,” he said. “Welcome to the Core.”

Albert was as confused as he had ever been in his life. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Farnsworth barked and ran off toward the platform that had brought them underground.

Albert peered through the steam as the orange platform, which had left while he wasn’t paying attention, returned. A boy and a girl were standing on the platform, their shapes very much like the ones Albert had seen in the forest. The girl had a wide grin on her face, while the boy, who had glasses too large for his face, looked startled and scared and lost.

“Ah, here we are.” The Path Hider stood up and motioned for Albert to join him as he walked toward the two newcomers. “It seems the rest of your party has arrived.”