Fire Keep Read online

  Copyright © 2015 J. Scott Savage

  Cover Art © 2015 Brandon Dorman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from J. Scott Savage and Find Your Magic Publishing. For information regarding permission please visit: www.jscottsavage.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary: With no word from Kyja, the people of Farworld are beginning to face the possibility that she is truly dead, and the quest to save Farworld and Earth has failed. In an effort to find a way to bring Kyja back, Marcus must enter the most dangerous place possible the realm of shadows. Meanwhile, Kyja wakes up in a world of lost souls and memories. With no idea who she is, she wanders Fire Keep, home to the most quick tempered of the elementals. The other spirits around her have given up hope. But Kyja is driven by a strong sense that something is wrong and getting worse. A familiar voice warns her that time is running out. To recover her memories, she must face a literal trial by fire. Can Marcus survive the realm of shadows to reach Kyja? Can Kyja survive Fire Keep in time to regain her memory? Time is running out for Kyja, Marcus, and their worlds and the Dark Circle's real plan is only now beginning to be revealed.

  eBook Edition

  ISBN-10: 1-939993-60-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-939993-60-1

  [1. Foundlings—Fiction 2. People with Disabilities—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. 4. Fantasy.] I. Title

  To Lu Ann Brobst Staheli:

  mother, author, teacher, friend.

  You inspired so many people

  and will be missed

  by everyone who knew you.

  Contents

  INTERLUDE: TREACHERY

  PART 1: THE WAITING GAME

  1: COUNTING THE DAYS

  2: THE POWER OF HOPE

  3: MISDIRECTION

  4: JOKES AND ILLUSIONS

  5: A STRANGE WARNING

  6: TRAINING

  7: DOUBTS AND DECEPTIONS

  8: UNWANTED NEWS

  9: BETRAYAL

  10: PAYING THE PRICE

  INTERLUDE: THE KING’S ARMY

  PART 2: FIRE KEEP

  11: AWAKENING

  12: NO WAY OUT

  13: A MEETING

  14: THE ONLY WAY

  15: THE ONE

  16: INTO THE FIRE

  17: HARD THINGS

  18: THE REALM OF SHADOWS

  19: CLOSING IN

  20: TOO MANY QUESTIONS

  21: SO CLOSE

  INTERLUDE: TAKING CHANCES

  PART 3: THREE WORLDS

  22: PAIN

  23: PHILLIP AND AURORA

  24: THE LAST PIECE

  25: THE ROPE

  26: ALL OVER AGAIN

  27: NOT A TEST

  28: THE FIRST GATE

  29: THE SECOND GATE

  30: TALKING IT OUT

  31: THE THIRD GATE

  INTERLUDE: RAISING THE STAKES

  PART 4: THE DRIFT

  32: THE LAST GATE

  33: NOT ENOUGH MAGIC

  34: DARING PLANS

  35: THE FINAL BATTLE

  36: GOODBYE

  37: OPENING THE GATE

  38: WATER, LAND, AIR, AND FIRE

  39: THE DRIFT

  40: A NEW WORLD

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Interlude: Treachery

  The black water rippled and stirred, but the only things reflected in its surface were the sputtering torches around the room and the frustrated face of the portly water elemental standing above the pool as the other elementals watched nearby.

  Leaning against a wall, his body currently composed of glittering diamonds and gold coins, Calem snickered. “The vision of the Fontasians is indeed impressive. If only I, a poor air elemental, could look into a puddle of water and see my own befuddled face.”

  Tide glared at him. The water elemental snatched a fish from the school circling slowly around his head and crunched it viciously between his teeth. “Watch your mouth, Aerisian,” he growled around the food, “or I’ll show you that a Fontasian is capable of much more than vision.”

  Calem guffawed, his diamonds catching the torchlight and reflecting it into Tide’s face.

  The land elemental pair Nizgar-Gharat flapped their wings lazily, stirring the smoke-filled air around them. Nizgar’s green-striped lizard head studied Tide, while Gharat’s purple lizard head looked at the dark pool of water. “You said you could see through mountains,” Nizgar hissed.

  “I can!” Tide snapped. He waved his hand at the pool, and at once a dizzying vista of open forest blurred by. He gestured again, and the trees were replaced by mountains. The image in the pool zoomed in to focus on a single flower then back out to reveal thousands of them. “Anywhere there is water, I can see.”

  Focusing intently, the Fontasian changed the image to an army of undead creatures. Swarms of two-headed dogs, rag-clothed humans, and the corpses of nearly every animal imaginable paced the ground like insects drawn to a pot of honey. Watching over them were at least a hundred Thrathkin S’Bae—the Dark Circle’s wizards. In the distance beyond, a tower was barely visible, surrounded by what might be a city wall.

  “Closer,” hissed the land elementals, tongues flicking.

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Tide asked. He moved his hand; the image in the pool flew over the army and toward the tower. For a tantalizing moment, the tower began to come into focus, and all of the elementals leaned forward. Then, just as the city began to grow clear, it disappeared into a white haze of mist.

  “What’s wrong?” Gharat demanded. “Why can’t we see anything?”

  Calem waved his arms and gold coins clinked merrily against one another. “Because the king of the water elementals is king of no one. His Fontasians have turned against him, and the boy Cascade makes a fool of him. Perhaps I could lend him a few of my loyal Aerisians?”

  Tide spun around, face cold and purposeful. “I warned you!” He waved his hands, and water rose from the pool in the shape of a swirling serpent. Before Calem could react, the water serpent wrapped itself around him and clamped down.

  “Get . . . . off . . .” The Aerisian gasped. He tried to change form, but the water bound him tight, squeezing his body in its powerful coils.

  “Stop!” a commanding voice filled the chamber, echoing off the walls and filling the air as if it had physical substance. A robed figure raised his hand, and the Summoner chained to the wall shot a stream of molten fire across the room.

  Tide howled in pain as the flames encased his body. Steam billowed from his hands and feet, and the tiny fish circling his head dropped to the ground, charred and curled. The water serpent he had been controlling splashed to the floor, and Calem gasped for breath, his body now a swarm of angry black hornets.

  “I’ll teach you to attack me, you fat—”

  The Aerisian’s voice cut off as the robed figure strode toward the elementals. The figure’s face was entirely hidden beneath his dark hood except for a pair of glowing red eyes. Although the master was hunched, and shuffled like an old man, all the elementals stopped speaking and bowed their heads.

  “Tell me what you’ve learned,” the master said, his voice raspy like the buzz of a wasp or the warning of a rattlesnake.

  The three elementals looked at one another, none wanting to be the first to speak.

  Finally, Tide cleared his throat. “The land elementals have close
d off all entrances to Land Keep.”

  “Show me,” the master said.

  The pool glowed, and a moment later, the four of them were staring at a swamp on the edge of a bay. Positioned strategically around the swamp were hundreds of winged creatures, each consisting of a pair of animals combined into a single body. Tide zoomed in on a creature that was part dragon, part lion, and Nizgar-Gharat’s heads growled deep in their throats.

  “What are they protecting?” the master whispered almost to himself.

  “The wizard has been there several times over the last few days,” Nizgar-Gharat’s two heads said together. “We believe he is seeking a way to bring back the girl.”

  “Have they discovered such a way?” The master enunciated each word carefully—a knife blade waiting to slice through the wrong answer.

  The land elementals lowered their heads. “We do not know,” Nizgar said.

  “The library is immense,” Gharat added. “It’s impossible to know everything it contains.”

  The master snorted. “If he’d found an answer, Therapass would be doing something about it.” He threaded his fingers together, the ring on his right hand glittering. “What of the Windlash Mountains?”

  Calem spoke up quickly. “The humans have been beaten back, and we—that is you—hold all entrances to the Unmakers’ cavern.” The image in the pool shifted into a black opening above of an icy mountain ledge.

  Dozens of bulbous creatures flew around the entrance. Their purplish bodies pulsed, deep blue veins clearly visible in the tentacle-like legs hanging from their torsos. Their wispy black wings seemed far too small to keep them aloft, but the dead bodies spread below them on the mountainside were clear evidence of their powers.

  Higher up the mountain, twenty or more Aerisians loyal to the Dark Circle flew their mounts through the air, scouting for any signs of attack.

  The master chuckled and smacked his lips wetly. “Very good. Now I need to see what is happening in Terra ne Staric.”

  Tide wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “That is a . . . problem at the moment. The other Fontasians have created an unnatural mist around the city, blocking me from seeing in.”

  The master’s glowing red eyes fixed on him. “Do not tell me what you cannot do. Tell me how you will obey my command. Do you not rule the very oceans themselves? Perhaps you are not a worthy ruler for Earth after all.”

  “N-no, master,” the water elemental stammered. “Of course I will obey your command. I only . . .” He stared down at the pool, deep in thought, and a smile stole slowly over his face. “Yes.”

  He waved his hands, and the image in the pool showed a placid ocean—waves rolling gently across the surface. He turned to Calem. “I need wind. A lot of it.”

  Calem nodded. He placed his palms together, hornets buzzing angrily and stinging one another. Immediately the calm surface of the ocean began to change. Whitecaps grew and crashed—first the height of a man, then a tree, and finally a small mountain. Sky and water roiled and spun until a huge spout rose out of the waves, filling the blue sky with dark green clouds.

  “Yes,” Tide said. “Now, push it inland.”

  The clouds raced toward the shore, across the land, and directly over the undead army stationed outside Terra ne Staric. Thrathkin S’Bae glanced up uncertainly as the creatures under their command howled and bit one another.

  As the dark clouds pushed through the mist, the city came clear.

  “There,” the master said, pointing a finger at a glass coffin lying above ground at the base of the tower hill. Sparkling gold light surrounded the coffin, but the girl inside lay unmoving. The master nodded. “Her time grows short.”

  The cloud, forming a salty mist, pushed through the doors and windows of the tower.

  “Find me the boy,” the master commanded.

  The pool showed a series of winding stairs, and a moment later, a single prison cell, where a dirty-faced boy and a skyte sat miserably side by side.

  “They’ve locked him up?” the master whispered incredulously as if he couldn’t believe his own luck. “This is too perfect.”

  The image began to blur, and Tide’s brow furrowed. “They sense an outside presence. I won’t be able to see for long.”

  “Quickly—the wizard,” the master said. “Show me Therapass.”

  Tide pushed the mist up the stairs, higher and higher into the tower as the picture grew increasingly fuzzy.

  “There!” the master shouted, pointing at a closed door.

  Tide forced his mist under the door, and for a brief moment, the image of Master Therapass appeared in the pool. The wizard was heating a dark-gray solution in a beaker over a flame. As the mist blew into the room, he spun around, hiding the beaker behind his back, and shouted something.

  Cascade and Divum charged toward the door. Cascade reached his arms into the mist as the air elemental put her hands to the sides of her mouth and blew. Instantly, the picture disappeared.

  Tide spun around. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t . . .”

  The master waved his pale hands. “It is enough.” He stared at the black water and whispered, “What are you up to, old man?”

  At the far end of the room, a door opened, and a small, misshapen creature shuffled in. It bowed its twisted torso and turned its owl-like head in the master’s direction. “The traitor is in place. He has your item and is waiting to use it.”

  The Master’s eyes flashed red. His hand went to the pale line on his finger. “Very good.”

  1: Counting the Days

  Water leaking from the narrow crack in the stone ceiling made a rhythmic tapping on the cell floor—two quick plinks, followed by a heavier splat. After the splat came a pause so long, you might actually think the water had stopped falling altogether—if you hadn’t been listening to it for so long that the sound of the drips were as familiar as your own heartbeat.

  Marcus knew the pattern well enough that he could anticipate exactly how long the pause would last before three more drops splashed into the puddle in the corner—plink, plink, splat—like keys on a piano.

  Exactly twenty-seven drops per minute. One thousand six hundred twenty drops per hour. Thirty-eight thousand eight hundred eighty drops per day.

  Or was it thirty seven thousand seven hundred seventy?

  Math was never Marcus’s strong suit. And he was almost positive the water dripped faster at night than in the morning. So it could have been as many as forty thousand.

  He’d tried calculating how many drops had fallen since Kyja’s . . . He refused to call it death, even though it was beginning to feel more and more like that after ten days with no sign from her. Instead, he tried to think of it as her departure—as if she’d gone on a long trip, and any minute now, he’d get a letter, or the magical equivalent of a phone call.

  But the numbers had started to jumble in his head until he was pretty sure he was going crazy.

  Riph Raph, perched on a rock outcropping above Marcus’s head, waggled his ears. “Well?”

  “What?” Marcus pulled his gaze away from the puddle and blinked.

  “Your question,” Riph Raph snapped—although with far less snarkiness than he would have used back when Kyja was still around. “You’re on seventeen. You have three more to go.”

  Marcus rubbed his grimy hands across his face, remembering that they were playing twenty questions. It was one of the games he’d taught the skyte in the days they’d been locked together in the dungeon—along with I Spy (which had gotten old quickly when the only things they could see outside the cell were a hallway, a torch, and the occasional beetle), a rhyming game called Pink Stink, and enough games of Tic-Tac-Toe to cover one entire wall.

  “Right. Okay.” Marcus tried to concentrate—something that was getting harder and harder to do, as though his mind was wearing away with each drop of water that fell. “Are you thinking of Kyja’s laugh?”

  “How did you guess?” Riph Raph asked.

  Marcus gave a ghost o
f a smile. “We already did her hair, her robe, her slippers, her eyes, her hands . . .”

  “Don’t forget her smile,” the skyte said.

  How could he, when all he had to do was close his eyes, and it was right there in front of him? Marcus’s hands clenched as he wondered for at least the thousandth time why she’d done it. How could she have left without him? How could she drink some unknown potion on the word of an air elemental? For all she’d known, it was another of their stupid jokes.

  Look, I got a human to drink poison.

  Riph Raph glided to the floor and placed a wing on Marcus’s knee. “She’ll pull you over any time now.”

  “I know.” Marcus sighed.

  The skyte blinked his big yellow eyes. “And when she does, you won’t forget to bring me with you?”

  Marcus scratched the back of Riph Raph’s head in the same spot Kyja always had. “Of course not.”

  From around the corner of the hall came the sound of footsteps descending the stairs that led from the tower to the dungeon.

  “Breakfast,” Marcus grunted with a frown.

  It wasn’t that the food was bad. Bella made all of their meals personally, and she was the best cook Marcus had ever met. The meals weren’t the problem. It was the two guards who brought them.

  “Maybe it’s someone new,” Riph Raph said. “Maybe the dumb one finally killed the noisy one. Or maybe someone pushed them both off a wall. People that annoying must have enemies.”

  Marcus wished. At first the guards watching him had rotated in and out. But the last few days it had been the same annoying pair. He’d asked the warden for new guards at least ten times. But every meal, the usual two came—a fat, stupid man with a bad attitude, and a skinny one that Marcus was almost sure was crazy. Personally, he couldn’t understand how the two of them had gotten their jobs in the first place. The city had to be desperate to hire them.

  The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the clanking of badly fitted armor. With them came the sound of off-key singing.