The Fog of Forgetting (28 page)

“Stop!” yelled Chase. “You'll fall through, too!”

Knox dropped to his hands and knees and crawled gingerly forward. He put his ear against the ground. Suddenly, he sat up and pantomimed wildly for Chase. Chase left the hounds, standing stock-still with their ears cocked, and crawled slowly over to Knox. He was sitting a few feet from the edge of a five-foot-wide crevasse that had been covered by snow when they had walked across it only minutes beforehand.

“Careful,” Knox whispered. “I don't know what's under us.”

To the right, they could see a gouge in the lip of the crevasse where Seaborne and Evelyn had gone in. Any big movements, and the same could happen to them.

Knox listened again with his ear close to the lip. When he straightened up, he said, “Here. Hold my feet, I need to get closer.”

Chase's mouth dropped open. “You've got to be kidding.”

Knox's face was white with cold except for his nose, which was bright red. “I don't think they fell far. I thought I heard something just now, but I need to get closer to be sure.”

Chase's thoughts spun—crevasses could be miles deep. It was entirely possible Evelyn and Seaborne were lying dead at the bottom right now. Chase's mouth was dry with panic. He kept picturing Knox falling and falling, without end.

“They might be out of reach, Knox. It's too risky.”

“So, you just want to leave them? Come on, Chase! It's Evelyn. And Seaborne. We have to do something. At least we have to try!” Knox was right, Chase knew, but he was afraid.

“Look,” Knox argued. “You can sit here and think about it for the next ten minutes, but I'm going to crawl out there and take a look, whether you like it or not. I'd prefer it if you held on to me, but it's not a requirement.” Knox lay on his stomach to flatten out his weight and slid his way slowly across the ice with his elbows.

Chase grabbed his ankles and pulled him back.

“Let's think about this first.” He cast his eyes around in desperation. Axl and Tar were standing patiently, coated in snow and harnessed to the sleds—harnessed with rope!

“I have an idea. Just hold on a second.”

He crawled over to the dogs and unfastened them from the sleds, taking up the rope, then crawled back several feet and sunk his sword deep into the snow, as far as it would go. He tied the two ropes together and fastened one end to the hilt of his sword. Then, he tied a loop around his waist and the other end around Knox's waist and stretched out on the ground, digging his feet into the snow. His hands were raw from the cold, but he grabbed onto Knox's ankles as tightly as he could.

“Okay. Now you can go,” he said grimly.

Knox got ready to slither toward the opening of the crevasse. He paused and took a deep breath. “Chase,” he said over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Don't let go.”

Chase tried to push out of his mind the image of Knox falling and refastened his grip.

“Never.”

Knox punched his hands into the snow and dragged himself closer to the crevasse. When both he and Chase were fully extended over the ground, the rope straining to hold them back, he was still a good foot from the lip of the crevasse.

“I hear something!” Knox yelled. “I have to get closer! Get me closer!” He pawed at the ground.

Chase almost lost his grip.

“Wait, wait. I'll move the rope!”

Knox was shouting wildly. It was all Chase could do to hold onto him. He could hear faint cries for help now, too, as if they were coming from a distant tunnel. He hauled on Knox's legs, pulling him back.

“Both of them are down there. I can hear them yelling. I don't think they fell far, but there's a whole bunch of snow in the way!” cried Knox, diving back in.

Chase lurched forward; the rope cut into his skin. His hands were numb. Knox was jerking and thrashing, trying to dig some of the snow out of the mouth of the crevasse. Chase struggled to keep his grip. The rope around his waist grew slack. He was slipping. Panic rolled over him in waves. He whipped his head around and sure enough, the sword was almost parallel to the ground. It wouldn't hold much longer. He shouted to Knox, but Knox's lower half was already going over. In moments they would both be in the crevasse. Chase dug his toes and elbows into the snow. A sudden sharp pain bit into his calves like knives.

“
Aaargh!
” he yelled.

His body lurched backwards, slowly at first and then in one great heave as whatever was behind him gave a tremendous tug. He slid backwards to safer ground, pulling Knox with him.

Chase didn't loosen his grip until Knox had scooched backwards and was sitting up.

“It's okay. We're okay. You can let him go now!” Knox thumped Axl on her flank. She and Tar opened their jaws and released Chase's bleeding calves.

“That stings,” winced Chase, examining the two large bite marks in both of his calves where the hounds had sunk their teeth into him. He patted them both gratefully.

The hounds sniffed the blood on his pants, then pawed the ground. Axl cocked her ear again and barked three piercing barks. Tar howled loudly. Knox covered his ears.

“I think they're telling Seaborne we're here.”

“You heard both Evelyn and Seaborne? You're sure?” asked Chase.

Knox nodded his reply.

“Well, at least they're alive—for what that's worth.” Chase pictured Seaborne and Evelyn slowly freezing to death just below the glacier's surface.

Knox faced his brother with a serious expression. Even his freckles looked pale and cold.

“Seaborne told us that Varunans live throughout these mountains. They may be watching right now. I'll stay here and mark the spot. You take the dogs and get help.”

Chase shook his head. He couldn't just leave Knox—all of them—in the middle of nowhere. It was safer to stay together and let help come to them.

Knox's eyes flashed. Chase hadn't noticed until that moment that his brother's blue eyes were flecked with green.

“This is your country, Chase. Ratha is your Keeper. If anyone can find her or find help, it's you. Follow your daylights.” He put his hand, gently for once, on Chase's shoulder.

“I trust you.”

Chase looked at him for signs of sarcasm, but there were none.

“Tinator was right, Chase. You have the sword because you deserve it. I screw everything up.” Knox turned his head away. “If it weren't for me, Frankie and Teddy would be with us, and now Evelyn and Seaborne—” He broke off, close to tears. “Please help me fix it.”

Chase squatted beside Knox and scanned the surrounding mountainside. The snow had stopped falling and the sky had brightened. The sun hung to the west like a fuzzy, white coin; soon it would dip beyond the range and they would be in the dark.

“Seaborne also said that if Ratha didn't want us here, we would find out soon enough. I think we've found out,” he said, standing; then he walked silently toward his sword. His calves had stopped hurting, the blood already congealed from where Axl and Tar had grabbed him. His body was able to heal itself more quickly. His daylights must be getting stronger. Chase resheathed his sword, squared his shoulders, coiled the rope, and hoisted his pack onto his back.

“It's not your fault, Knox,” he said. “If you want to blame somebody, blame Dad's lab. But who's to say Mom and Dad wouldn't be lost out here, too, if they'd gone on the boat.”

Knox raised his head. “Can you imagine Dad out here?”

“Can you hear me now?” Chase pretended he was holding a cell phone to his ear.

Knox cracked a little smile.

Chase chucked the knapsack up on his shoulder.

“Okay, I'll go find help—but don't do anything stupid like trying to dig them out of the crevasse. And the hounds stay here, with you. Just in case,” said Chase.

Knox stared at him blankly. “In case what?”

Chase looked him in the eye.

“In case I don't come back.”

C
hase's world was reduced to two colors: blue and white. He picked his way carefully across the remainder of the glacier and passed a raw night hunkered down in a depression in the belly of the mountain. Surprisingly, he wasn't cold. The thick boots and fur-lined clothing had done their job, and now that the sun had risen and he was moving, he was actually a bit too warm. His mind felt roomy and light in a way he had never experienced before, and his spirits rose with each step. It seemed entirely possible that help was right around the corner. Every now and then, he shaded his eyes against the blinding glare of the snow and searched the mountainside for signs of life.

But hours of walking failed to reveal even a hint of the existence of another creature. Occasionally, out of the corner of his eye, Chase thought he saw a slight flicker of movement, but when he turned his head to investigate, he saw nothing but snow and rock. Sometime after midday, his energy flagged. The blue sky that seemed so friendly through the morning was graying over again, threatening to snow. The light turned flat, and he had difficulty discerning humps and rises in the terrain. More than a few times he slipped and fell, but he kept walking. Thoughts filled his mind with vivid clarity: Frankie holding up her new knife; Teddy laughing at the bow of the skiff; Knox walking beside him in the forest; Evelyn's dark eyes peeking out from under her hood. Chase felt for the hilt of his sword. He remembered Knox's parting words:
Tinator was right
. Even now he wasn't sure he believed them. He hadn't protected his brothers and his friends very well. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back and took another step, which sent him hurtling down a steep hill.

At the bottom he stayed on his back, like an upended seal, trying to stem his fear. He sat up and mentally went over the situation at hand. It seemed unlikely that Seaborne and Evelyn would survive for the days it might take before he found help—let alone Knox. Chase rubbed his eyes and shook the snow off his rucksack. Now was as good a time as any to eat. He pulled out a stick of dried meat and chewed on it thoughtfully.

Every Keeper had a realm, and that realm had a center or a city—Varuna should not be any different, Chase reminded himself. He just had to find it. He opened his canteen and took a drink; then, carefully, he funneled snow into the mouth of the canteen and stowed it under his coat. The warmth of his body would melt the snow. Chase shut his eyes.

In a flash, as if someone had dropped a slide into a projector, he saw a vision of a wide terrace set into a mountainside, surrounded by three sides of steep steps. At the center sat a large, square structure, several stories high, and an immense cauldron burning with purple flame. Mysterious carvings covered the walls of the building.

The image telescoped and Chase saw the scene as if he were standing before the cauldron, the towering building above him. A door opened. A rectangle of light poured from inside, and a woman with long black hair, dressed in a shimmering gown, stepped onto the terrace. She had eyes the color of ice. Then, as quickly as it came, the vision vanished; Chase was alone again in the middle of nowhere. Without warning, Chase's left hand suddenly exploded in pain. His eyes flew open. A large, tawny bird was perched beside him, snacking on a piece of his meat stick. It rotated its head around and stared sideways at him.

Chase tore off more meat and held it out. The bird hopped toward him, greedily nipping Chase's extended fingers.

“You'll need better aim if you want more,” said Chase. The bird gazed back at him impassively. He moved closer. The bird launched into the air in a flurry of feathers and wings.

“Wait! Come back! I'm not going to hurt you!” he yelled. It felt extremely important that the bird not leave him.

The bird circled above his head several times and landed some forty feet away. Chase walked slowly toward it. When he got within arm's reach, it took off again. They repeated this several times, the bird never allowing Chase to get any closer.

“Forget it, I'm not playing,” he said, after the third attempt. He took out his canteen again, ignoring the bird. It flew into a fury, shrieking and clawing at the canteen, attacking his face and beating his head with its wings.

“Back off !” shouted Chase, swinging wildly at the bird with his canteen. But it didn't stop until he started moving. Slowly it dawned on Chase that the bird might be there for a reason, to guide him, like the turtles in Metria. He stowed his canteen and kept his eyes on the bird. It began to snow.

The bird led him high along a mountain ridge. Snow fell heavily now and his progress was painfully slow. He had to stop frequently to stamp his feet and return feeling to his toes. There was no hint of a trail, and he had no way of knowing if he might accidentally wander off the side of the mountain. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the vision of the celestial terrace. It must be nearby. Ratha must have sent the bird. Ratha would not let him die out here.

Or would she?

Seaborne said that Ratha could put dreams into people's heads—make them think they were acting on their own when they weren't. Could she be tricking him? Did she want him to find her, or was she leading him on some wild goose chase? Chase stumbled and fell flat on his face. He rolled onto his side, too tired to ward off the falling snowflakes.

“Ratha, help me,” he pleaded into the white nothingness. No sign of the bird; it had vanished into the thick veil of snow, like everything else. Chase curled into a fetal position. Was there nothing on Ayda he could rely on? Rothermel had fought for them, and now he was ready to turn them over to Dankar. Rysta said she would protect them, but she had taken Teddy. And now there was Ratha. Who or what was she? And why should she bother to help him? If Chase hadn't been so cold he might have cried. Instead, he forced himself back up, using every ounce of concentration he possessed to put one foot in front of the other. Another few steps brought him around a corner and onto the open face of the mountain. He saw nothing but snow; a bitter wind shrieked through his hood, hurling ice fragments at his already stinging face. He used the last of his strength to retreat out of the wind and sit down. He was worn out. He needed to rest a little before going on. Snow fell around him in thick drifts. The roar of the wind lulled him to sleep.

He dreamt that he was plucked from the snow, like a dust mite from a blanket. The sensation of weightlessness washed through him as a steady, calm wind lifted him—impossibly high—over the top of the mountain and into the sky. He was drifting high above Ayda, her restless streams and grassy plains undulating below him, tinged gold by a setting sun. He saw the shining disk of Lake Voss, the pewter-colored fingers of the Vossbeck, and the green carpet of the Melorian forest that faded into smudges of browns and yellows and reds as his sight reached west and into a desert he presumed was Exor. He circled around to follow the Hestredes east into the jungle and down along the beaches of Metria, marked by the glittering blue domes of Rysta's city. He flew back along the river and north over the prickled spine of the Varunan mountain range, the blue of the glacier fields, and the white-hooded peaks that he had passed on foot. And then he flew higher.

The entirety of the island of Ayda showed itself to him, shaped like a heart and wrapped in a curtain of fog, endless and impenetrable, stretching farther than Chase's sight could reach. He flew higher still, until he saw the curve of the Earth against the blackness of space and the atmospheric halo that shimmered around it like a protective charm. An intense light coursed down on him, too bright to look at but also hot and pure and gentle on his face. He wanted to fly higher to meet it. His muscles strained, his heart burned, and the nerve endings at his skin pulsed with an all-consuming desire to fly into the light, to never again be divided from it. He sensed the movement of the Earth circling beneath him, slow and eternal, and felt a rush of gratitude for it and the light that held him with such grace—and then he felt no more.