The Timekeeper's Moon Read online

  Then, bucket gone, she and Zeke sprinted together into the woods toward his maple. Ariel wanted to help Zeke with the tree, if she could. She was late, though, very late, and did not heed where her feet went. She tripped on an exposed root and flew sprawling.

  Her fall seemed to take a long time, as though she’d fallen from high in the tree and not merely over its gnarled root. Down, tumbling down, she whisked through swirling air thick with leaves and the mossy smell of the forest. Twigs slapped her face. Her hands and arms flailed to catch hold without the slightest success. With a chill certainty, Ariel knew she was going to hit the ground much too—

  She jerked. The falling was gone. The air against her skin, the feel of her weight on the ground had a presence, a brighter reality that told her she’d only dreamed of a fall and now lay awake. For an instant, relief drove out her dread. A bad dream was over. She hadn’t fallen. She could open her eyes—

  No. Her lids wouldn’t open. None of her muscles responded to her urgings to move. Cold and hard, her body pressed the earth like a stone. Ariel could still smell the forest, still feel the tree branches stinging her skin. Her ears filled again with the rush of her own motion and the banging of her heart. She could also hear someone or something moving nearby, though: footsteps, rustling fabric, a snatch of a female voice. Her mother? Those sounds rose and faded, in and out like a surf, first nearby, now distant.

  Bewildered, Ariel tried harder to lever her body to action. It ignored her commands. Her mouth was not even shut; it was slightly agape, but forcing words toward her lips only tightened her throat and built pressure in her head that pounded in time with her heart.

  Her confusion was roaring toward panic when a thought pierced her: maybe she’d hit the ground after all. Perhaps this was the prison of a badly broken body. She felt no pain but little else now, either, except a dull heaviness and the ground, unyielding against her claylike limbs. She might even be under that ground, part of it now, in her grave.

  Wishing to scream and unable, except in her mind, Ariel snapped to mental silence at a new sensation—any sensation. Something squirmed at her ribs. Worms, gnawing her corpse? No, too clustered, too firm… Fingers. It had to be fingers. Focusing there, counting the points of contact, feeling them wiggle helped her push back her panic. Tickling, that’s what the fingers were doing. Ariel grasped at that realization and followed the touch like a beacon, pulling herself out of the darkness, ribs first.

  Her eyelids, long prying, flew open.

  “Ha. You must have been even more worn-out than me.”

  The voice drew Ariel’s gaze, and she rejoiced that her neck turned. A woman crouched beside her, but it wasn’t her mother. Too young. Shocking red hair; that was wrong, too. And a face showing strain, the kind Ariel had seen on people in pain.

  “I’ve never seen anyone sleep that hard,” the woman added. “I thought even tickling wasn’t going to work.”

  Confused, Ariel wanted to blink her eyes but feared they’d stick if she closed them again. Instead she stared. Red hair, fiery hair, fire…

  “Sienna!” The name leaped from her throat, all her effort to speak loosed at once.

  “Don’t blame me. Scarl said I ought to wake you.”

  Scarl. At his name. Ariel knew where she was again and with whom. She sat up, or tried to. Her limbs were clumsy and slow as though her body still balked at returning to the wakeful world. She nearly flopped sideways and only stayed upright by flinging one hand to the side to brace herself.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I was dreaming. Too real. And I couldn’t remember at first who you were. I only knew you weren’t my mother.”

  “Oh, I’m not that old!”

  Ariel didn’t manage to return Sienna’s smile. She stuck her feet in her boots and rose to hurry away from her deathly dream. The expanse of green water at the lake’s edge welcomed her. She distracted herself from her dank unease by throwing stones into the lake until her arm hurt. The stones were a penance, too, of a sort. She’d missed keeping her promise to Zeke yesterday.

  Besides, she needed an anchor, something physical to grab and command, whose effect she could count on. The musical plop of the rocks held her in place. But Ariel could feel her dream hovering, waiting for her eyes to close once more, ready to drag her back from one part of her life into another—one that, right at the end, turned to nightmare. Nor was it merely a dream, she was sure. It was a path that she’d walked and that somehow wound before her again. If she strayed from the one she was on, the two might be tangled and she’d become lost.

  Sienna’s difficulty in rousing her weighed on Ariel’s heart. She feared the next night—sure to come and nearer than ever to August full moon. If Ariel went to sleep under that ominous eye, she wasn’t sure she could return.

  CHAPTER 30

  Dog Moon, One Day Shy

  Ariel thought for a moment that her feet would insist on splashing right into the lake toward the far shore. They veered at the last minute, however, and she led her friends along the shoreline’s long arc.

  “Can you leave the world through a dream, Scarl?” Ariel asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “People certainly leave the world in their sleep,” he replied. “Hard to know if they were dreaming, though. Or whether they dreamed they were crossing the bridge.”

  “Ever have a dream where you’re falling?” Sienna asked. “I used to a lot, with all the ladders back home. And that stupid tree swing.” She shot a sly look at Nace, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “I always, you know, jerked awake. But I’ve heard that if you land in a dream like that, you’ll die.”

  Ariel held her face very still. She could feel Scarl’s eyes upon her, though, as pointed as any question.

  “I keep dreaming of falling,” she murmured. “I don’t like it.”

  After gazing at her a while longer, he replied, “You’ve risked bad falls more than once in the last few weeks. It would probably be wiser to keep your feet on the ground. Whether there’s a waterfall to plunge over or not.”

  “I’ll try.” She hoped her dreams and Timekeeper both would comply. At least in her vision of the waterfall, she’d stood at its base. “But that reminds me. There’s one more bead in my necklace. The gold one. You haven’t told us that story yet.”

  “Its story is called ‘Golden Seeds,’ and here’s why. In a place not far away, there lived a Reaper with a flourishing garden. One day she discovered a pea vine growing out of place among carrots. Its single pod split apart at her touch and, to her amazement, golden coins tumbled out.”

  “Lucky,” Ariel said.

  “Indeed. Needless to say, the woman carefully tended the pea vine. It grew slowly, but every pod held a row of gold coins. She traded them for fine clothes, tasty treats, beautiful furnishings, and a servant to do her most unpleasant chores. She lived like a princess all summer and never set foot in her garden again except to keep watch on her pea vine and harvest her gold.”

  “She didn’t even collect her vegetables?” Sienna asked.

  “Nope. She became lazy and the plants were overrun by weeds. She didn’t care. Only one thing troubled her: the more nice things she had, the more she feared losing them. The pea vine could wither, a thief might steal her goods, or her house could burn.

  “Fretting endlessly, she went by the glow of the full moon to the village well. For it is said that the light of a full moon shining into a well will reflect not the moon but the future—the face of a true love, the gender of a baby still in the womb, or the path to be taken when leaving the world.”

  “A well.” Ariel thought of the watery scent of the map a few nights ago.

  “Yes. The woman bent backward over its edge with her hair streaming down, because everyone knows you can only see your future in a well if you look upside down. And she spied a reflection that wasn’t the moon’s. She saw herself as an old woman, surrounded by grandchildren. She saw a prince who had heard of the pea vine and would come to ask her hand in marriage. Sh
e saw—”

  “Why would she marry someone who only wanted her gold?” Ariel asked. She didn’t like to interrupt him, but this was important.

  “Well, he was a prince,” Sienna said.

  “He should have his own gold, then.”

  “I didn’t make it up, Ariel,” Scarl said. “I only tell it. Can I go on?”

  She frowned at the dancing reflections on the lake alongside them. “Can we change it so he came for the gold and she told him no, but then they fell in love anyway and he let her keep all the gold for herself?”

  Scarl laughed despite himself. “I suppose. And while we’re at it, we’ll say she also saw herself feeding everyone in the village, so no one would want.”

  “Good,” Ariel agreed.

  “I’m so relieved you approve,” he said. “The woman bent over the well felt much relief, too, at those happy reflections. As she raised herself upright, though, she heard a soft voice. She knew it must be the voice of the well sprite.

  “‘But for all this future to pass,’ said that voice, ‘you must drop in a gold coin for me before the moon sleeps tonight.’

  “‘Why should I throw my gold into a well?’ the woman asked. ‘It will be wasted.’

  “‘Did you plant gold in the soil before your vine sprouted there?’ asked the sprite. When the woman admitted that she certainly had not, the sprite went on. ‘Then you owe a debt to the earth. Plant a gold seed in the well so your future can grow.’

  “Checking her pocket, the Reaper found one small coin. As she drew it out, though, a fit of greed seized her. ‘No,’ she declared. ‘I have the vine and gold now. The future is already mine.’ She kept the coin in her fist and hurried home.

  “To her horror, she found everything changed. Her beautiful things had all vanished. Her rooms were barren and her cupboards were bare. Worst of all, her garden contained nothing but dirt.

  “She ran back to the well and begged the sprite for forgiveness. The sprite did not answer. Her heart in her throat, the woman relinquished her last possession, the gold coin in her fist. It sank into the well—”

  Splash! Their heads jerked around. Nace grinned. Ripples spread from the rock he’d tossed into the lake.

  “Just so,” Scarl said. “Still the sprite did not speak.”

  “She blew it,” Ariel said.

  “Yes. But the sprite felt the tears that dripped into the water, and even angry sprites may be moved. When the woman gave up and returned to her house, the rooms and her cupboards still echoed. But her garden grew once more in the moonlight. In time, its lone pea vine again bore gold coins.

  “The woman took her lesson to heart. She shared her fortune with any in need, and although it hadn’t been asked, she dropped another coin into the well at every full moon. People jeered that she threw them away, but she didn’t mind. She’d discovered, you see, that the path from yesterday to tomorrow may not always be straight. Sometimes seeds sown for the future can sprout and bear fruit in the past.”

  Sienna scoffed.

  Ariel waited until she was sure Scarl was done before she ventured, “It’s a good story, but it seems to me that it’s mostly about not making well sprites mad.”

  “Even simpler,” said Sienna. “It’s a rather silly way to say, ‘Don’t be stingy.’”

  “Stories may be understood many ways,” Scarl replied. “I’m more concerned about the full moon in this one, and the disappearance of wealth, since we’ve already surmised there’s a risk to the Vault.”

  “Plus a well, maybe,” Ariel reminded him. “If Lamala was right about my map.”

  “Indeed. And again, trouble with time, a confusion between present, future, and past.” Meaningfully he slid a thumb beneath the strap circling Willow’s ears. The horse’s skin was becoming chafed by Orion’s undersized bridle.

  Ariel shivered. The incongruous things from their past still unnerved her, but at least Scarl shared those with her. In her nightmares, she fell alone.

  “I wouldn’t mind a little mix-up in time if it brought us some gold,” said Sienna. “But I still think they’re only stories. You could pick a few details from any—”

  Nace clapped, startling them all. He pointed.

  A distant shape shimmered through the haze over the lake. Though it appeared to be limestone or granite, its stark lines could not be a natural formation. Stretched from one shore to the other, it looked like a monstrous bridge.

  “Forget the gold,” said Sienna. “If that’s the bridge to the land of the dead, I’m stopping right here.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a bridge at all.” Scarl squinted. “It looks like it touches the water.”

  “There isn’t flame beneath it, at least,” Ariel added. “Come on.”

  As the day progressed and they drew nearer, she gave a cry of recognition. “It’s some kind of dike! A wall to hold back the water. We had one in Canberra Docks.”

  “I was thinking beaver dam,” Scarl said. Nace nodded vigorously. “But not built by beavers.”

  “There must be a village nearby,” said Sienna. “Maybe it was their Reapers setting the fires.”

  “Maybe.” Doubt filled Scarl’s voice.

  “It’s from before, isn’t it?” Ariel asked him, her excitement growing. “How could anyone now build something so huge?”

  “There are stories of such things,” he replied. “I thought all were destroyed. But I didn’t expect Tattler, either.”

  Ariel increased their pace. The dike was farther away than it looked, and the sun dropped behind the hills early, but reflected glow let them continue. They’d closed to within half a mile when a distraction emerged from the twilight to greet them: another skull lay against the base of a boulder.

  This time, Scarl did not stop Nace from taking a closer look, saying, “This one’s been here a long while.” The Finder raised his eyes to the water wall. “Although certainly not so long as that.”

  Ariel eased past Nace and the skull. “Put it down, Nace. It’s creepy.”

  He chased her with it, clacking his teeth. She scrambled away.

  “One might be a shrine, but two is a warning.” Sienna planted her feet. “Do we have to go this way?”

  “Unless you want to swim,” Ariel said. “I’d like to get to the wall before we camp. I’ll sleep better if I can see what’s on the other side.”

  “I’d sleep better if we weren’t surrounded by death,” Sienna retorted.

  Nace flung the skull into the lake, where it sank with a splash.

  “We haven’t seen anything to fear yet.” Scarl drew Sienna forward to Ariel’s side. “There’s nothing threatening about bones by themselves.”

  Ariel was the only one who knew him well enough to hear his misgivings.

  Soon the nearest end of the water wall loomed over them, higher than any building, a stark shadow in the dusk. Awed, Ariel and her friends craned their necks as they approached.

  Light flared. They froze. Bright fires, a dozen or more, had burst along the wall’s top at precisely the same instant.

  Ariel rubbed goose bumps from her arms. “Bridge or not, Sienna, there’s your flame.”

  “Odd flames.” The Flame-Mage peered at the evenly spaced glows. They sent up no smoke, had no visible tender, and seemed to burn nothing but air. The unwavering fires shone like miniature suns.

  “We must not be alone,” said Scarl. “Though I still don’t see any—”

  Sienna gasped. “I think—no. It can’t be! Can it? If that’s lectrick …” She hurried forward. “I’ve got to get up there.”

  “Stop where you are!” ordered a loud male voice. “If you value your heads.”

  “People!” Sienna veered toward the voice.

  Ariel lunged to yank her back. “Are you deaf?” She’d been greeted often enough with surprise, but never before with a threat.

  “We come in goodwill.” Scarl thrust his staff and Willow’s reins at Nace and stepped around Ariel to the front. When only silence replied, he added,
“And half our group are only apprentices. Won’t you welcome us?”

  They stared into the gloom, searching for a face.

  Scarl muttered to Nace, “Get the girls on the horse.” Although Ariel had no intention of obeying, Sienna was mounted before the gruff voice came again.

  “Name yourselves.”

  Scarl spoke for them all. “Scarl Finder, Ariel Farwalker, Sienna—”

  “Farwalker? We don’t take kindly to Farwalkers here. We’ve had strife with their kind in the past.”

  Scarl and Ariel shared a look of surprise. Murmuring floated to their ears. As Nace vainly tugged Ariel toward the horse, her eyes finally picked out two dark, mobile shapes against the paler gray of the shore. They were hard to distinguish with the bright lectrick fires beyond.

  Scarl started to give an assurance that they meant no harm.

  “Y’ave two females there, don’t ya?” The question came on a woman’s voice, no less surly than the first.

  “Yes,” Sienna called from over their heads, her voice clear. “Please, we only want somewhere to sleep for the night.”

  Scarl jerked a hand at Sienna to be quiet.

  Though she understood, Ariel’s instincts chimed with Sienna’s impulse to speak up. She said, “We could greet you again in the morning, when we can all see.”

  More lengthy murmuring ensued.

  At last the man called, “We’ll haul you inside, where we can keep a close eye on you and find out what mischief you bring.” Boots shuffled and the shadows approached.

  “Inside?” Scarl’s knife left its sheath.

  Ariel’s confidence sagged. She drew so near to Scarl that she knew she’d be in the way if a struggle commenced. She couldn’t help it. Having spent enough time as a captive, she wasn’t about to try it again.