The Emerald Atlas (13 page)

“I hate this!” Emma cried as she landed face-first in another puddle. “I hate stupid rain!”

Leaving the house, they’d sprinted the short distance to the trees without seeing a single Screecher, but since then, the going had been slow. The storm had turned the forest floor into a swamp, and their feet kept slipping into puddles or sliding off rain-slick leaves.

Michael had fallen once, and they’d wasted precious minutes searching for his glasses. Emma had been particularly annoyed after she’d reached her hand into a mucky, nasty, wormy hole and the missing glasses turned out to be hanging from Michael’s ear.

All three were soaking wet, extremely muddy, and tired.

As she and Michael helped Emma to her feet, Kate wondered how far they had to go tonight. Where would be safe?

Things seemed truly dismal.

Then they heard the howl.

It wasn’t a Screecher. But it came from the direction of the house. In seconds, there was a chorus of savage cries. Just as quickly, they died off.

Kate said, “They’re coming.”

The children ran like they’d never run before, ignoring the heaviness in their legs, the pain in their sides. Soon, Emma had pulled away. She disappeared through a tangle of bushes. As Kate ducked under a branch, she heard her sister shriek. A second later, she and Michael had pushed through the bushes, and Kate saw for herself.

“No!”

They were on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a dark valley lit up by lightning flashes. It was hundreds of feet to the bottom and nothing but sheer rock walls in either direction. Kate cursed herself, remembering their first day in the orphanage and how they had gone to the waterfall and savored the dizzy, excited rush of watching the river plunge over the cliff. She should’ve realized where they were heading.

Another series of howls from the forest. Whatever was making that noise was getting closer.

“What’re we gonna do?!” Emma cried.

“There!” Twenty yards away, a narrow path twisted down the face of the cliff. Kate had no idea if it went all the way down, but it was their only hope.

“Come on!”

The path was steep and slippery, never more than a couple feet wide and usually much less. It zigzagged back and forth, and the children clung to each other as their shoes slid in the mud and gusts of wind tried to pull them into the void. They descended thirty feet, fifty, seventy-five, the rain lashing their faces.

Bringing up the rear, Kate kept glancing over the side, hoping the valley floor would come into view. If only they could get to the bottom, they would have a chance. They could find a cave to hide in or—

“Kate!”

Emma had stopped and was pointing up the cliff. Kate looked upward as lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the outline of an enormous wolf poised at the top. The creature let loose a howl that echoed over the valley.

“Run!” she screamed.

Any caution that remained was cast away. They raced along the path, their feet miraculously finding the bits of firm earth amid the mud. Thirty more feet—fifty. Kate spared a glance skyward. A half dozen of the creatures were tearing down the path at breakneck speed, headlong and reckless. As Kate watched, the pack collided at a corner, there was a yelp, and one dark body dislodged from the mass.

“Get back!”

She grabbed Emma, and the two of them and Michael flattened themselves against the rock as the flailing, snarling creature fell past, inches away.

“Okay,” she panted, her heart pounding in her throat, “we’re okay.”

“No,” Michael said.

“Yes, we just have to hurry.”

“No! Look!”

Kate peered around Emma to see where he was pointing, and her legs almost gave out. The path continued a few yards, then disappeared into space. Literally just stopped. She felt herself wanting to give up. To sit down and have it be done. But another, stronger voice spoke inside her and said it wasn’t going to end this way. She wouldn’t allow it. Squinting through the rain and darkness, she saw that the path did in fact continue, but twelve feet further on. She quickly weighed their options. The valley floor was finally visible, but it was still a hundred feet straight down. Retreat was hopeless. The wolves were on the path and getting closer with every second. There was no other choice.

“We have to jump!”

“Are you crazy?!” Michael yelled.

“It’s the only way!”

Just then a wolf let out a long, heart-shuddering howl.

“Right,” Michael said, and he turned, took three steps, and leapt into the darkness.

Kate and Emma held their breath as he hung in the air. Luckily, the other part of the path was lower, and he landed with a couple feet to spare, falling forward onto his hands and knees.

Then the lip of the path gave way.

Kate started to scream, but Michael was already scrambling to safety. Not wasting another moment, she turned to Emma. “You’ll have to jump farther. You can do it.”

“I know.” Emma’s eyes had a fierce, determined gleam. She crouched and took off running, kicking back flecks of mud as she threw herself into the air. Michael stood at the edge of the path, ready to catch her if she was short.

Emma landed on top of him.

Kate heard the thud of impact and Michael’s “Oomph!” as they fell in a tangle. She couldn’t help but be impressed. Unfortunately, the impact had caused another two feet of the path to crumble into space.

At the top of her vision, Kate sensed movement and without looking she dropped to the ground. A body passed over her, jaws snapping at the air where she’d been. There was a frenzied yelping as the wolf plunged over the side, unable to stop itself. Kate stood in time to see it disappearing into the darkness below. Looking up, she saw that the rest of the pack wasn’t far behind. There was no time to wait.

She ran the few steps and leapt. But as she jumped, her foot slipped in the mud, and the moment she was airborne, she knew she wasn’t going to make it. She stretched out her arms, but she could see Emma and Michael falling past her, screaming her name as they reached out their hands. It was just too far. But then, miraculously, an enormous gust of wind swept up the face of the cliff and pushed her forward. Her chest slammed into the path. The breath was knocked out of her. She scrabbled for a grip in the mud, but she was sliding backward, falling.

Then two pairs of hands were pulling her to safety.

A moment later, all three children were on their knees in the mud, holding each other, shaking with relief. Even with the rain and the wind, Kate would happily have stayed like that all night. But she knew they still weren’t safe. The leap that had almost killed her would be nothing to a wolf. She pulled away and looked back up the cliff. The pack was rounding the last corner, close enough for the children to hear their harsh animal panting.

“If only I had a sword!” Michael said.

Kate seriously doubted that would’ve done much good, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “Help me.”

She started jumping up and down at the edge of the path. The ground was soft and unsupported and the rain had weakened it even further. Twice Kate slipped as earth fell away, but both times her brother and sister pulled her back. In seconds, the children had widened the gap from fifteen feet to eighteen to twenty until by the time the first wolf launched itself into the air, there was a twenty-five-foot chasm.

And perhaps it was fear, or exhaustion, or the knowledge that if the wolf did reach them, then further flight was pretty much pointless, but the children didn’t run. They just stood there, rain-soaked and mud-splattered, watching the great beast fly toward them.

It’s not enough, Kate thought. He’s gonna make it.

The wolf crashed into the end of the path. The children fell back instinctively, but the animal didn’t attack. Kate saw it hadn’t actually made the jump. The lower half of its body was thrashing in the air as it clawed at the loose rocks and mud, its huge jaws snapping furiously. Then the creature lurched forward, heaving itself upward, its hind legs finding purchase. And just as the cry to run rose in Kate’s throat, four feet of earth gave way, taking the wolf with it.

Kate exhaled, unaware till then that she’d been holding her breath. She squinted through the rain at the three remaining wolves. They were crowded at the end of the path, a growling, quivering mass. She could feel their hunger, but she knew they wouldn’t chance the leap.

“What’s a’ matter, you big chickens!” Emma yelled. “Come and get us!”

The wolves spun about and raced up the path, disappearing into the darkness.

“Look at that!” Emma said, turning to Michael and Kate in triumph. “They’re giving up.”

“Unlikely,” Michael said. “They’re probably looking for another way down.”

“Come on,” Kate said.

It was only another sixty feet to the bottom, and they reached it quickly. The bodies of the wolves who’d fallen lay broken on the rocks. Kate looked up the cliff, but she couldn’t see the rest of the pack.

She heard Emma saying that she bet Miss Crumley had planned all this, and Michael replying that he very much doubted that, and Emma saying something about Michael’s head being shaped like a turnip.

She shut them out and tried to think. It was raining harder than ever. They were all exhausted. She had no idea how long it would take the wolves to find another way down; the question was, should they keep running, or did they immediately start looking for a place to hide?

“Kate …”

“Let me think.”

“Kate.” Emma tugged on her arm. Kate turned.

Thirty yards away, a dark shape was moving over the tops of the boulders.

“Run!”

They broke for the trees. A growl erupted behind them. They struggled up a small rise. Every second, Kate expected to feel the weight of the animal on her back. Keep going, she told herself, just keep going.

Glancing over her shoulder, she emerged from the trees to a clearing at the top of the hill and slammed into Michael and Emma, almost knocking them down.

“Don’t stop! We—”

The words died in her throat. A wolf was crouched in front of them.

For a long moment, no one moved. The creature’s gray fur was matted with rain; its mouth hung open, teeth bared in a hideous grin, as a low growl emanated from its gut. Emma and Michael were frozen. It was up to her to do something. What if she ran right at it? The beast wouldn’t be expecting that. It might give her brother and sister time to get away. The fact that she wouldn’t survive didn’t faze her in the least. Readying herself, Kate saw another wolf step out of the rain, its head low, its eyes fixed and murderous. Then a sound at her back told her the first wolf had closed the circle. And she finally understood: there was nothing she could do. They were going to die here.

“Kate—” Emma said, her voice shaking.

“Hold hands,” Kate said. They did, standing back to back in a circle. “Now close your eyes,” Kate commanded. “Do it!”

Michael and Emma obeyed, but Kate kept her eyes wide open, watching the wolves circle. This was her responsibility. Her failure. She wouldn’t spare herself seeing it through.

She locked eyes with the largest wolf, letting it know she wasn’t afraid. She no longer felt the rain whipping at her face, the fatigue in her body. Her mother flashed through her mind. I’m sorry, Kate thought, I did everything I could.

The animal crouched low, gathering itself.

Kate squeezed Emma’s and Michael’s hands and whispered, “I love you,” as the wolf launched itself into the air.

The animal’s teeth never reached her.

There was the sound of fast, heavy footsteps, of something swinging through the rain. The wolf saw it coming and tried to change directions but was already committed. The object, a long gray blur, was in Kate’s vision for an instant, then it struck the wolf in the head, close and loud enough for Kate to hear the creature’s skull shatter.

Then a man was beside them. He was huge, a giant. His long dark hair obscured his face, and thick chains hung from either wrist. With fierce growls, the two remaining wolves threw themselves at the man. He caught one in midair and broke the creature’s neck with a dull crack. The second fastened itself on the man’s arm, sinking its fangs deep into his flesh. He wrenched the creature away and threw it as a normal person might a cat. It struck a boulder and fell to the ground, dazed. The man took two long strides, put his boot on the animal’s neck, and stepped down. There was a thick crunch. The wolf lay still.

He walked back to the children. Michael and Emma had opened their eyes and were staring up at the man with wonder. He loomed over them, his face hidden in shadow, but even so, Kate recognized him. He was the man who’d attacked the Countess that day at the dam.

He said: “Come with me.”

CHAPTER NINE
Gabriel

It went like this: Kate would pick out a tree or boulder and she’d tell herself, That far, I’ll just go that far, and while she walked, she wouldn’t allow herself to think about how wet and heavy her clothes were, how they chafed against her skin with every step, how the muscles in her legs had been replaced with so much unresponsive mud; she would only think, That far, I’ll make it that far. Then, when she reached whatever rock or tree she’d picked out, she’d look forward, past the giant man, through the rain and the darkness, to single out another tree or rock, and do it all again.

She glanced at Michael. He had entered a state of numb, mindless plodding. His head had drooped to his chest, and water was sluicing off his nose as he put one wobbly foot in front of the other. But even so, he was doing better than Emma. She had actually fallen asleep while walking. The third time it happened—after she’d tripped and woken herself up with a “Huh? Who did that?”—the giant man had turned and scooped her into his arms. Kate had expected protests. Emma never let adults coddle her. But her sister had just curled up and gone to sleep.

That left Kate, exhausted as she was, to try and pay attention to where the man was leading them. She’d asked, of course, but the giant had merely grunted for Kate to be quiet, and she’d had to satisfy herself with what she could glean from their surroundings, which, considering the rain and the dark and the fact that one tree or rock looked pretty much like every other tree or rock, was not much. And so they marched on, along crooked, muddy, tree-choked paths, clambering over boulders, jumping across impromptu streams, steadily climbing and steadily climbing, till Kate decided that “wet” and “tired” were just different words for pain and she forgot about picking trees or rocks to mark her progress and just lowered her head and let herself be guided by the thud of the man’s footsteps and the clinking of the chains that hung from his wrists.

And then suddenly, they stopped.

Kate raised her eyes. She saw the outline of a small cabin tucked into the hillside. The man pushed open the door and stepped inside, and Kate and Michael stumbled in after.

The air in the cabin was cold and musty. Clearly, no one had been there in a long while. But for the first time in what felt like forever, it was not raining on the children. They stood in almost total darkness, listening to the man move about. There was the rasp of a match, and he lit a lantern that hung from the center of the ceiling. Without a word, he turned and busied himself at the fireplace, giving Kate and Michael a chance to inspect their surroundings. There was a wide bed with a bearskin blanket on which Emma was already fast asleep, the stone fireplace where the man was piling up kindling, an old wooden table with stools and benches; the walls were covered with snowshoes, fishing rods, ice axes, bows and arrows, knives, a long spear, while from the ceiling hung a collection of traps, along with pots and pans of various shapes and sizes. The cabin was small, certainly, but well cared for, and everything one might need was close at hand. Soon, a bright, warm blaze had filled the room, and when Kate looked to Michael, she saw he’d climbed onto the bed beside Emma and was snoring lightly.

The man stepped up.

“Hang your clothes by the fire. And keep the curtains closed. The bed is yours.”

Then he was gone.

With effort, Kate got her brother and sister to stand and take off their sopping wet shoes and clothes. Not bothering to open their eyes, Emma and Michael dropped everything in a puddle on the floor, pulled on the dry, knee-length shirts the man had laid out, then staggered back to bed and crawled under the covers. Kate placed their shoes on the hearth; the clothes she wrung out in a bucket, then draped over a rope she’d found and strung before the fire. She felt herself in some country past fatigue, as if she would never need sleep again, but pulling on the last dry shirt, she climbed into bed anyway, just to be next to her brother and sister. Where had the man gone? And who was he? Certainly, he was no friend of the Countess, but could they trust him? He was obviously extremely dangerous. She lay there, her thumb and forefinger making tiny worried circles on her mother’s locket. She felt the heaviness of the bearskin blanket and how warm and dry the sheets were against her skin. The rain overhead sounded very far away. She resolved to stay awake till the man returned.

Her eyes snapped open. How long had she been asleep? It was still night, still raining. But the man was back. He was sitting on the stone hearth, sawing at the metal cuffs that bonded his wrists as the firelight played over the long scar running down his face. Now was the time to ask him who he was. Why he’d tried to kill the Countess. But Kate just lay there, listening to her brother and sister breathing, listening to the rain on the roof, the soft crackling of the fire, the steady back-and-forth of the saw cutting through metal. She was so tired. She would just close her eyes for a minute. Then she would talk to him.

Kate fell into a series of troubled dreams. In the last, she saw an underground city. It rose up in the hollowed-out heart of a great mountain, and the buildings were like none Kate had ever seen. They looked to have been sculpted straight out of the rock, as if the city had not been built so much as excavated. The effect was massive, brutal, and strangely beautiful. Suddenly, the ground began to shake and split apart. Buildings crumbled. Fires erupted. Then the earth seemed to swallow the city whole.

Kate woke, breathing hard, covered in sweat. The fire had gone out. Daylight filtered through the curtains. The chains that had been attached to the man’s wrists lay curled beside the hearth. She was alone. Emma’s and Michael’s clothes were gone from the line. She felt her own. They were dry. She dressed quickly and went outside.

It was a shock, stepping into the bright sunlight, and she blinked several times, shielding her eyes. The cabin was perched on the side of a mountain and looked out across the valley. It was a beautiful, cloudless morning. The air felt cool and clean. In fact, were it not for the evidence all around her—the still-muddy ground, the rain glistening on the treetops below, her torn and filthy clothes, the dried blood on her hands—she could almost believe that the night and everything that had happened—the storm, the wolves, the sudden appearance of the man—had been no more than a dream.

“Morning!”

Michael was sitting on a rock a few yards away, his notebook balanced on his knee. “Just bringing my journal up to date. Be done in a second.”

Kate glanced around and saw neither Emma nor the man.

“Michael—”

“Just a second.”

Kate closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. She needed to think. Were they still going to Westport? If so, where were they now? How far had they walked during the night? The man could tell them. But where was he? And where was Emma? Kate was about to tell Michael to finish his journal later when her dream, which had faded on waking, suddenly returned—not in the way dreams usually returned, with vague, disjointed flashes, but exactly, vividly, so she was watching it all again, the underground city, the earth opening up—

“Kate?!”

Michael was shaking her. She blinked and realized she was lying on the ground. Had she fainted again?

“What happened? You—”

“I’m fine.”

The Countess’s words were ringing in her ears:
Did you notice the oldest one.… The book has marked her
. She was very clearly not fine. But she saw how Michael was staring at her and managed a smile.

“Just … stood up too fast. Where’s Emma?”

“I don’t know,” he said, still watching her closely. “She was gone when I got up.”

When Emma woke, it was just getting to be dawn. A dim gray light had crept into the cabin. Kate and Michael were still asleep. The man was stomping out the fire, black fossils of logs crumbling as ash billowed around his foot. His arm was bandaged where the wolf had bitten him. She watched as he pulled on a shirt, took a knife, bow, and small quiver from the wall, and—throwing a glance in her direction—left without a word.

Immediately, Emma got up, dressed, and hurried outside. A heavy morning mist hung over the valley, and she was in time to see the man’s large form disappearing into the gray. She padded silently after him.

Why she was following the man, Emma couldn’t have said. As a rule, she didn’t find adults very interesting. In her experience, they were either to be put up with or openly disobeyed. Abraham was all right, she guessed, and Dr. Pym had been interesting, being a wizard and all. But until this man had appeared, there’d never been an adult she’d actually felt drawn to.

Emma ducked behind a boulder as the man stopped. He seemed to be listening to something in the fog.

A memory was coming back to her. It was from a few years earlier. A rich old man had paid for all the kids in their orphanage to be taken to the zoo. Emma had figured the guy was dying and trying to do something nice so he’d get into heaven. Whatever the reason, that trip to the zoo was easily the greatest day of her life. There were pandas and jaguars and long-necked giraffes and spotted monkeys that whooped and chattered as they fell through the trees; crocodiles from the Nile that people used to worship; snow leopards from the Himalaya; emerald-green snakes that could swallow a man whole. Everywhere you turned, there was more to see. But the animal that caught her attention, the one that held her in quiet rapt amazement, was a lion. He was enormous, twice the size of any of the other lions. His fur was a heavy, brownish gold, his face scarred from many battles, and his eyes the deepest, darkest black Emma had ever seen. Clinging to the outer bars of the cage, she had sensed the power and intelligence in him, and further, beneath the stillness, a pure animal violence waiting to erupt.

Something about this man reminded her of the lion.

She watched as he left the path and melted down into the mist. She waited a moment, then followed. The earth was wet and slippery, and as she braced herself against trees, cascades of raindrops showered onto her head and shoulders. She entered a glade and paused. The man was nowhere to be seen.

As she pondered which direction to go, there was movement, and a stag stepped out of the trees. It was tall and strong, with great swept-up antlers. Hidden by branches, Emma held her breath, awed by the beauty of the animal. It stretched out its neck and nibbled at a bush.

She wished Kate and Michael were here. Kate especially. Michael would probably have ruined it by saying something stupid about dwarves.

The stag suddenly raised up, its whole body taut. It turned to bolt, but just then the man flew out of the mist and landed on the deer’s back, driving it to earth. His knife flashed, and in a second the animal’s throat was slit.

Emma gasped, stunned by the speed and ferocity of the act. She watched as the man knelt and placed a hand on the animal’s head. She could see his lips moving, whispering. Then he looked up; his eyes met hers.

She knew he meant her to approach.

Her legs shaking, Emma walked over. Steam was rising from the cut in the animal’s neck, and the smell of blood was strong in the air. She wasn’t scared. Too much had happened in the last few days for her to be scared now. But there was something so naked about the scene, about the man and the stag and the kill in the hushed wood; it made her heart tremble.

She stopped beside the body. The man’s eyes had not left her.

“Do not be frightened.”

Emma wanted to tell him she wasn’t. But she found she couldn’t speak.

The man’s large hand still rested on the deer’s head. “The wolves last night were evil. I felt no regret in killing them.” His voice was low and strong. “But to kill a creature such as this is a sacred thing. It must only be done when there is true necessity. And you must ask pardon of the spirit.”

He looked at her for understanding, and Emma nodded, reminded again of the deep, dark eyes of the lion.

The man cut into the stag’s abdomen and began to clean it. He was expert, and did it quickly and without waste. Emma felt queasy watching him remove its organs and place them in a lined leather bag, but she didn’t turn away. She told herself if Michael were here, he would be throwing up nonstop, and that made her feel better.

“Last night, with the wolves, you were scared?”

Emma considered lying, but then said, “Yes.”

“You did not show it.” Emma thought she heard his approval, and warmth exploded in her chest.

The man said, “You are not from Cambridge Falls.”

It wasn’t a question, but he expected her to respond.

“No. We’re from … well, we’re kind of from, you know, the future.” She was feeling easier now. “See, we found this magic book, and if you put a photo in it, you go to wherever the photo was taken, right? And that’s what we did, we put the photo in the book, and so, we’re here.”

The man had stopped what he was doing and was staring at her. In a flash, Emma knew two things. The first was why she’d followed him. It was because the night before, as he’d carried her through the rain, she’d felt safer than she had in her entire life. The second thing she knew was that suddenly—the way he was looking at her, the blood on his hands, the knife, the two of them alone in the woods—she did not feel safe at all.