David Baldacci - The Keeper

“I thought you said that wasn’t possible.”

“It might be now.”

“How do you figure that?”

“As someone once told me, in here anything is possible.”

As I turned to leave her, I stopped. “Petra. Did your uncle ever mention the term Maladon to you?”

I wanted to see her first and true expression.

“No,” she said. “What does it mean?”

“It’s not important.”

The next light, we packed our tucks and I buckled Harry Two into his harness. I wasn’t going to ferry the others one by one. Not after what had happened last time. For all I knew, others like the Soul Takers were lurking around. We were going to stay together. Die together or survive together. Not alone. Never again.

We held hands in a line like last time and then I kicked off and we soared clumsily into the air. Petra was bringing up the rear with her wand held ready in her free hand.

We soared along and I have to admit that the view from up here was spectacular. Closer up the mountain was even more bluish than it seemed from far away. Parts of it were covered in foliage but other sections were bare rock where for some reason apparently no plants would grow.

So far, no dark clouds formed and the air was nicely calm. I looked down below and spotted once more the curl of smoke that Petra and I had seen using the magnification incantation. From up here, I could make out more details. The shack we had also seen previously was small and made entirely of blue stone. I bent my head forward and we flew lower. Now I could see a patch of blue dirt through the trees. And then I spotted him.

He was a small male slowly trudging across the dirt toward the cottage, carrying a stack of wood nearly as large as he was. This was presumably fuel for the fire that was the source of the smoke. He was dressed in old rugged trousers, a checkered shirt and — I could make it out as I dipped us lower — a red cap whose peaked top bent over a bit.

I didn’t fancy an encounter with another creature in the Fifth Circle. I thought we could simply fly to the top of the mountain instead.

As soon as I finished this thought, the storm was upon us so fast I barely had time to draw another breath. Petra screamed and Lackland bellowed as skylight spears shot sideways, so close to us that I thought they must, at the very least, impale us. Thunder-thrusts hit with such force that they knocked us across the sky. I could feel my grip loosening on Delph’s hand. Then another scream jarred me back.

I looked down to see Petra tumbling downward.

Lackland stared up at me, shock on his features. “She... she just slipped.”

It had been him screaming, not her.

“Hold on,” I yelled.

I went into a dive that put so much torque on my shoulder with Delph hanging on to me that I thought my limb would part ways with my body.

I saw that I would not reach her in time, but then I didn’t have to. I pointed my wand and said, “ Lassado. ”

The thin light exploded from my wand tip, encircled Petra’s waist, and I whipped it upward. She soared toward us.

“Lackland, grab her foot.”

He did so and held on.

“I don’t think she’s conscious,” he cried out. “Her eyes are closed.”

“Is she breathing?” I shouted. My first thought was that she had indeed been hit by a skylight spear.

“I... don’t know. I think so.”

I aimed my head downward as the storm raged around us. We slammed into the ground far harder than I had intended, but I was up in an instant and knelt next to Petra. She was on her back, her eyes were closed and her features were screwed up in pain.

“Petra? Petra!”

I slapped her face with my hand.

Her eyes popped open and she looked wildly around. “What! Where? You?”

“Are you hurt?”

I looked her over and saw no obvious injuries. My gaze went back to hers as Delph and Lackland peered over my shoulder, their faces anxious.

I said, “You nearly died. We just caught you in time.”

She slowly rose and touched her head. “I... I guess I blacked out. The last thing I remember was...”

“Hullo?”

We all whipped around and stared at the thing that had spoken.

It was the little male with the red peaked cap. We had landed near his shack. As I looked around, I could see it and the curl of smoke barely twenty yards away.

“Who are you?” I asked. He looked at me with soft brown eyes and a very friendly countenance, which immediately put me on my guard. Friendly did not really exist here. I well knew that. Cunning and murderous, yes, but not friendly.

“I am called Asurter of Muspell,” he said, his voice high and squeaky.

“Muspell?” I said. “Is that what this place is called?”

“It is what I call it,” said Asurter, who came barely up to my waist. Indeed he was as small as Eon back in Wormwood, though his skin was quite red.

“What are you doing here?” asked Delph.

“I cut wood and I keep my fire hot.”

I looked over at the shack.

“It’s warm,” I said. “Do you really need a fire?”

“I always require a fire,” replied Asurter. “Do you need food or watering?”

We looked at one another. I wanted to push on but, though the storm had cleared as soon as we touched ground, I knew we would have to labor up the mountain on foot now.

I said, “That would be very nice, thank you.”

As Asurter turned his back, I gave the others a sign to be on their guard. The bloke might be okay, and then again, he might not.

We walked past a truly enormous stack of firewood all neatly cut and cubbied. Asurter gathered up a staggering amount of wood in his arms and led us into the shack. It had looked humble and small on the outside. And it looked the same on the inside. The walls were simply the back sides of the stones that formed the house’s outside. The floor was dirt, the furnishings limited to one chair and one table. Dominating the space was a stone fireplace that took up one entire wall from the floor to the peak of the ceiling. As soon as we got inside it was so intensely hot that I started to sweat and I had to shield my eyes from the harsh glare of the flames.

I looked at the others and saw they were having the same reaction. When I took a step toward the flames, I had to immediately draw back because of the heat. Yet Asurter walked right up to the opening of the fireplace and put the stack of wood on it. The flames instantly shot to a full ten feet in height and seemed to threaten to escape the bounds of the fireplace.

Blimey , I thought, no wonder his skin is so red if he gets that close to the flames .

He turned back to us and said, “Food and water?”

He pointed to the table and we saw that food had indeed appeared there. And water. Only the food was charred black. And when I went to pick up a goblet of water, I dropped it because the metal was burning to the touch and the water was boiling.

Asurter seemed not to notice this. He went back outside and returned with another load of wood. He threw it on and the flames leapt ever higher.

I looked at the others and saw their concern building. Delph pointed a finger at the door.

“Well, thanks, Asurter, we’ll just be going now,” I said.

He turned to look at me. “Going? Going where?”

Before I could stop him, Lackland said, “Up the mountain and out of this place, that’s where.”

I froze because I could sense something building. Just like I had with Ladon-Tosh in the Duelum back in Wormwood. A sensation of energy, of power amassing, only at a rate a thousandfold greater.

“Run!” I screamed as I hurtled for the door.

Asurter was no longer small. In fact, he was growing so fast that he burst through the roof of the shack. And he looked nothing like he had before. He was gigantic, with long hair and a beard that reached to his waist. And if Asurter had been red, this thing was aflame. Truly aflame, his beard was on fire against his chest, his hair likewise.