The Keeper (2 page)

I
T WAS A
fiendish inficio behind us.

An inficio was a large creature with two massive legs, a set of powerful webbed wings and a long scaly torso out of which grew a serpentlike neck capped by a small head, which was fronted by blazing venomous eyes, and a mouth with razor-sharp fangs. If that wasn’t enough to terrify sufficiently, the inficio also expelled a gas that would kill any who breathed it, like those poor birds.

I had been right in not taking to the air. We would already be dead.

Delph looked back as we sprinted along.

“It’s comin’ lower. Comin’ to kill us!” he yelled. “Run!”

I needed to do something. Anything. Why was my brain so muddled? I had just stood there as the inficio was coming to kill us. It was Delph who had told me to run.

“Vega Jane!” screamed Delph again.

Without really thinking, I reached into my cloak pocket, pulled on my glove, and then my fingers closed around the Elemental. In its present state, it looked completely unimposing, only three inches long and made of what looked to be wood. But when I willed it to full size, the Elemental grew into a spear taller than I was, and a brilliant gold. I had been given the Elemental — along with the glove that I was required to wear while holding the Elemental — on a great battlefield from long ago, by a dying female warrior. She told me it would be my friend whenever I needed one. Well, I needed one now. I needed to do something. I refused to simply … die.

As I looked back, the inficio was closing fast, its clawed feet nearly on the ground. I saw its mighty chest fill with air and then it expelled a breath, which became a great cloud of blue smoke that at its center held death.

Still running, I turned and prepared to hurl the Elemental, guiding it with my thoughts. When I let it fly, the Elemental zipped past the outer edge of the smoke, and the wake caused by its speed disrupted the cloud of poison, pushing it back toward the creature that had released it. The inficio instantly soared upward. Apparently, though the beast was the source of the deadly fumes, inhaling the smoke could harm it too.

The Elemental flew back to me. Just as I grasped it, the ground under our feet gave way and we plummeted downward about fifty feet. Whatever we hit was softer than our landing off the cliff. Still, I felt myself gasp and I heard Delph do the same. Harry Two yipped once, but that was all.

I rolled onto my back and saw the dark sky disappearing behind the cover of large branches and rolls of matted grass. These elements were being hoisted into place by what looked to be a series of pulleys and ropes. But that could hardly keep the inficio at bay. I expected it to burst through this flimsy cover and destroy us.

But the inficio did not come. Instead, a heavy net fell over us and we became tangled in ropes so thoroughly that I could barely move. I looked to the side and saw that Delph and Harry Two were in the same predicament. As we lay there struggling, I heard something approaching. Delph obviously did too, because he grew quiet. I willed the Elemental to shrink and placed it in my pocket and then took off the glove and placed it in my other pocket.

I reached out as far as I could and took Delph by the hand.

In a low tremulous voice, I said, “Be ready for anything, Delph.”

He nodded.

Our gazes locked for a long moment. I think we realized that this might be it for us — two simple Wugs from Wormwood attempting to cross the insanely treacherous Quag. It seemed so absurd right now. We never stood a bloody chance.

“I’m so sorry, D-Delph,” I said, my voice breaking as I finished.

Surprisingly, he smiled and rubbed my hand gently, which sent shivers up my spine. He said, “ ’Tis all right, Vega Jane. At least, well, at least we’re together, eh?”

I nodded and felt a smile creep to my face. “Yes,” I said.

I looked beyond his shoulder and saw lit torches set into holders on the rock walls. This gave the place a shadowy, vaporous illumination. It only added to my sense of fear and foreboding. What would be coming for us now?

I looked past Delph and stiffened.

There were dozens of pairs of eyes looking back at me from barely ten feet away. As my vision adjusted to the feeble light, I could see that they were smallish creatures with fierce, grimy faces and strong, toughened bodies. But their backs were bent and their fingers dirty and gnarled, perhaps from heavy toil.

As they grew even closer I received another shock. They had mats of grass growing on their exposed arms and necks and on their faces.

I heard Delph quietly mutter, “Ruddy Hel?”

The column of little creatures transformed into a circle and they surrounded us. I heard one of them call out in a series of grunts. When the net started to lift, I realized that he had been giving the instruction to do so.

The weight of the ropes lessened and we all three struggled to rise.

Quick as a flash, the creatures whipped out weapons and held them at the ready: small swords, lances, pickaxes and long, lethal-looking knives. And about a dozen of the creatures held small bows with sharpened arrows tucked onto strings ready to fire.

We could now see our captors quite clearly. Not only was grass growing on their bodies and faces, but their hair was grass as well.

Outnumbered as we were, I thought a friendly if direct approach best. I said, “Hello. I’m Vega. And this is Delph and Harry Two. Who are you?”

They all stared blankly back at me. Their faces were small and wrinkly, but their eyes bulged and were quite painfully red. I could see now that they were dressed in a hodgepodge of dirty clothing: trousers held up by stout rope, old shirts, frayed kerchiefs, stained vests, old coats and peaked hats. Some had on nicked metal breastplates. Others had metal coverings held on with leather straps over their thighs. One bloke sported a cap made of rusty iron.

We drew back because the little creatures were moving forward, tightening by considerable degrees the circle they had formed around us. They were jabbering and grunting, and a pair of them poked us with their little blades.

“Oi!” I cried out. “You can keep those ruddy things to yourselves.”

The creatures drew even closer.

I took a sudden step forward. This obviously surprised them, and as a group they jumped back. The one who had spoken before grunted again to his fellows. He was taller than the others and seemed to possess an air of authority. I turned my attention to him and said, “Can you speak my language? Can you speak Wugish?”

And I received another shock. One so great I thought my heart had stopped.

Slowly walking toward us was, well, he looked like us, meaning like a Wugmort from Wormwood. He had all the applicable parts and he had no grass growing on those parts.

“Cor blimey,” muttered Delph, who obviously had also seen him.

The male stopped right outside the circle of creatures, who had respectfully parted to allow him to pass.

I said, “Are you a Wug?”

The male stopped barely five feet from me. He was tall and had on a green cloak and I could see pointed shoes poking out from under the hem. He was elderly; his hair was white, as was his beard. His face was lined and remarkably pale; in fact, it competed with his hair for which was whiter. Then it occurred to me that if he lived down here, the burn of the sun would never touch him.

“Not anymore,” he answered in a high-pitched voice. “I left long ago.” He looked at the creature that had grunted before, and started speaking to him in a fast, guttural speech that was impossible to follow.

Again, my mind was seized with dire thoughts. Was this bloke inhabited by the Outliers? Or was he an Outlier himself? Back in Wormwood we had been told of these fiendish Outlier creatures that supposedly lived in the Quag. We had been warned they wanted to invade Wormwood and kill us all. And it had terrified all Wugmorts because we had heard these creatures could look just like us and could even inhabit the minds of Wugmorts and make them do their bidding.

The male pointed to his right and said, “This way, if you please.”

My heart in my throat, we headed in that direction and the creatures followed.

We passed from the large, tall cave to a small tunnel, which was nevertheless well lighted with torches on the wall.

When we entered a high, broad room of stone, the male stopped so abruptly I almost walked into him. He motioned Delph and me past him and into the cavernous room. Harry Two obediently followed.

When I looked around, the breath seized in my lungs.

There were little niches in all the walls that rose up as high as I could see. And in each of those niches was a —

Skull.

It was as if hundreds of sightless eyes were staring at us.

I looked over at Delph and found him gazing upward too. Poor Harry Two started to whine. The entire space reeked of death.

The male turned to look at me. “Do you know what they are?”

I nodded, my stomach churning. Had he brought us here because our bones would soon be joining these? “Wug skulls,” I said fearfully.

“Look more closely,” he said with a sweep of his hand.

I stared more fixedly at the skull closest to me and then at numerous others. I looked back at the male.

“These aren’t Wugs.”

He said, “They are creatures of the Quag who seek to harm us.”

I crept closer to another skull on a lower niche. It was undoubtedly a frek. I recognized the jawbone and the long fangs. Next to it was an amaroc. I had seen a skull of one of those at Delph’s place in Wormwood.

I looked back at the male. “Did you kill them all?”

He chortled. “Not personally, no.”

“How, then?” I asked.

The male looked me up and down. “Who exactly are you?”

“My name is Vega. This is Delph. The canine is Harry Two. We’re from Wormwood.” He said nothing to this. “Have you been here long?” I asked.

“Longer than your tally of sessions.”

“You have retained your Wug speech nicely,” I observed.

“Indeed,” he said, staring at me.

“What do you call this place?” I asked.

He looked around. “The Kingdom of Cataphile of course.”

Delph said, “What’s a c-cat-cata-whatsis? And who’s the bloody king?”

“A cataphile is a collector and keeper of bones. And as you can see, we fit that criterion rather fine. As for the king, here I am. At your service.”

He gave a sweeping bow to us.

“
You’re
the king?” I asked incredulously.

“King Thorne,” he answered with a dignified air.

I said, “How do you go from being a Wugmort to being a king here?”

He spread his hands. “Well, I largely fell in a hole, as did you.” He took on a dreamy expression. “There is much to be said for falling in a hole. It opens up a world of possibilities.” He paused. “ ’Tis a humble, darkened kingdom, but ’tis my own. And thus makes it right and just and plenty, and, most notably, my home.”

Delph and I exchanged nervous glances. I was beginning to think this bloke was more than a bit barmy. “And what are
they
?” I said in a small voice, with a glance at the creatures with grass growing on them.

“They are ekos. That is the Wug translation anyway. They are the highest form of life down here. Except for me of course.”

“I know there are other creatures dwelling on the surface of the Quag. But you mean there are other forms of life down here?”

“Oh, yes. The Quag has an abundance of life of all kinds. But come. We will give you refreshment and a place to sleep.” He turned.

I stood there openmouthed.
Refreshments and a place to sleep? The Kingdom of Cataphile?
I had imagined the Quag to be many things, but not this. It was turning out to be, well, quite civilized. But then again, I was still very much on my guard.

“We ought to be going, Vega Jane,” muttered Delph.

The king whirled around and looked at me with a face as though I had just told him I was a garm in disguise.

“Jane? That is your full name? Vega Jane?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And are you related to Virgil Jane?”

“He was my grandfather. Did you know him?”

“Yes indeed. Is he well?”

“No. He suffered an Event.” I now knew this to be untrue, but I had no reason to share that with him.

“An Event? Well, well. And Virgil too, of all Wugs.”

He turned to one of the little ekos and grunted a few times. Several of them raced off. He turned back to us. “As for leaving this night, I’m afraid that is impossible. The Quag is a dangerous place even at light. At night you will not survive. Now, are you hungry?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but headed off at a good clip, passing through another opening in the stone.

We hurriedly followed, with the remaining ekos right at our heels.

I drew close to Delph and began to whisper. “I don’t like this bloke. He looks like a Wug, but how can he be?”

“Right,” Delph hissed back. “We woulda heard if a Wug left for the Quag. Like with Herms.”

“He might be an Outlier.”

He shot me a glance. “Thought there was no such thing.”

“Who knows for certain, Delph? I was prepared for freks, garms and amarocs, not a Wug who has his own bloody kingdom of ekos with grass growing on them. None of this was in the book of the Quag that I found at Quentin Herms’s cottage.”