David Baldacci - The Keeper

He said in a gasping whisper, “Who... are... you?”

“I’m... I’m...” I frantically realized I’d forgotten my own name. Think, think, you git! “Vega. I’m Vega J-Jane,” I said in a rush.

“J-James?” said the creature, now trying to prop himself up higher.

I hurried to aid him. When I gripped his shoulder through the nightshirt, I could feel it was not much more than bone. His breath was foul and his skin was like the chilliest of water. I easily lifted him because he weighed almost nothing. I stepped back. “ Jane ,” I said more loudly. “Vega Jane.”

He looked up at me out of those cavernous eye sockets. “How came you to be here?” he said croakily, though he seemed to be breathing a bit easier.

“A hob named Seamus told me of the place. So I came.”

“But why?”

“Because I heard that Astrea Prine would help me.”

He gave a shuddering breath and said, “Help you with what, my dear?”

I sprang back as a hand passed by me.

Astrea laid her youthful palm on the aged creature’s chest and he instantly calmed, his breathing becoming regular. He thanked her with a smile.

Astrea turned to me and said, “I see that you’ve met my son, Vega.”

I stared from Astrea to — her son ?

“You mean he’s younger than you are?” I exclaimed. “But—”

She cut me off. “Come with me.”

“I thought you were tired?” I asked.

She turned back to her son. “There, there, Archie. Try and get some sleep now, luv, okay?”

She kissed him on his withered forehead.

Harry Two and I followed her out and down the passageway. We returned to the place with the old desk and fireplace that one reached through the secret doorway in the library. She sat down behind the desk and motioned for me to sit across from her.

“If Archie is your son, why is he so old and you’re so young?”

In answer she pulled out a small glass flask. “Because of this.”

“Is it medicine of some sort?”

“It is an elixir so potent that it keeps one young for as long as one takes it. It is devilishly tricky to make. It requires the blood of a garm and the venom of a jabbit, among other special ingredients.”

“How do you get blood and venom from those vile creatures?”

“I keep one of each in cages here at my cottage.”

I cried out, “A garm and a jabbit in your cottage!”

“If you tried to enter the rooms where they are kept, they would have told you to ‘Go away!’ ”

I shivered after discovering how close I had been to another wretched jabbit.

“Archie is dying because he chose not to take the youth elixir.”

“Why?”

“He no longer sees a point to it.”

“Then he’ll die?” I asked.

“And soon,” she said coldly.

Well, I thought, she was rather heartless. “How old are you?”

“Did you find the room with the clock on the wall and the chains going through the floor holes?”

“Yes.”

“What did it read?”

“Eight centuries, whatever that is.”

“A century is a hundred sessions.”

“A hundred sessions! But what is that clock keeping track of?”

“My time here.”

My jaw dropped. “You mean you’re eight hundred sessions old?” I could barely process what she was saying. It was all unbelievable.

“A bit older actually. I came here when I was already fully grown.”

“I also saw a room with many paintings.”

“You were no doubt told about the Battle of the Beasts back in Wormwood?”

“All Wugs were told about it. The beasts attacked Wormwood long ago but were beaten back and thereafter remained in the Quag.”

She said emphatically, “Well, that was a lie. There was never such a thing.”

“But I’ve seen the paintings at the Council building—”

She shook her head impatiently. “There was a war that took place over a great many sessions. However, it was not with the beasts.” She paused.

I was now squeezing both my legs so hard they felt quite numb. “Who was it with, then?”

She gazed at me so strangely I felt myself involuntarily shaking.

“It does not matter. Not now.”

“It matters to me,” I retorted.

“It was a battle between two opposite forces. One won and one lost. That is all I will say on the matter.”

“You tell me nothing,” I said forcefully.

“I will tell you this, Vega. We created the village of Wormwood. And then we managed the building of the Quag. And the decision was made to wipe away our history and replace it with another. We called ourselves Wugmorts.” She paused. “Do you know why we chose that name?”

I shook my head.

“There is a plant that is universally considered bitter. It is called the Mugwort. We altered it slightly to Wugmort. The survivors carried that feeling of guilt, of bitterness, every time they uttered the word.”

I sat forward, my mind filling with questions and possible connections. “I met a creature named Eon. Through him I went back in time. Not just my past. But further back. I was on a great battlefield. A female warrior, while she lay dying, gave me something she called the Elemental, that I could touch using the glove she also gave me. She knew my name. She said I had to survive. And she was in one of the paintings back in that room.”

Astrea looked gobsmacked by this information. “You... you met her? As she lay dying?”

“Yes. Who was she?”

Astrea didn’t look nearly so formidable now. Her eyes held a faraway look, and I could see tears clutching at their corners. She said slowly in a trembling voice, “Her name was Alice Adronis, one of our greatest sorceresses and my dearest friend. The Elemental was her creation.” She paused and swallowed. Astrea seemed to be trying very hard not to burst into tears. “She could only live as a victor or die as a warrior, could Alice.”

“But why would she know my name? Why would she say I had to survive?”

“I have no idea, Vega. I... I...” She looked away.

“What happened after that?”

Astrea took a moment to compose herself. “As the first century went by, the magical powers with which we were imbued faded drastically. It was at that point that the decision was made to let them die completely.”

“How do you let magic die?” I said slowly. I didn’t know why, but I felt a great sense of loss at this.

“By not using it. By not believing in it anymore. Belief, having faith in something, is a very powerful thing, Vega. Perhaps the most powerful thing of all. And as the sessions went by and we started dying off, our descendants knew little of what we were. And finally, virtually no Wug in Wormwood knew anything of us a’tall, but accepted as their history the lies that had been created for them.”

I took a deep breath, put aside my misery and told Astrea about the Adder Stone and Destin the chain and how I had come by them at Stacks.

She nodded and said, “Stacks was the castle of our leader, Bastion Cadmus.”

“You took his castle with you?” I asked, wondering how this was possible. But, I supposed, anything was possible with blokes who could do magic.

“We had to create another place to live. Every bit was precious to us.”

“And the Stone? And Destin?”

“Objects possessed by Bastion.”

“And the Quag? And what we were told about it? You haven’t explained that.”

“I have no need to explain it,” she said, her tone sharp again.

I bit back my anger and groped around for something else to ask her.

“But why are you here?” I asked.

“I am, quite simply, the Keeper of the Quag.”

“So you had your family here with you at the cottage?”