Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jack was sitting next to a fire in the room where he'd first met Daerk. He wasn't reading. He didn't feel like doing anything. He was just sitting, watching the fire, and scratching the fox behind the ears.

A sudden noise outside the door startled him. The fox lifted its head. It wasn't loud, but it had an odd finality about it, like a door closing firmly after an argument. There was a movement outside of his window, and he saw Michael outside, walking down a path moving away from the helm. It was a moment before this registered, but when it did he leapt to his feet and ran out into the entrance hall, the fox close on his heels. He hurried across to the large set of double doors and threw them open, running into the gray daylight.

Michael was a little ways ahead, but he stopped and turned when he heard them coming. He smiled faintly and waited for Jack to catch up to him. The fox bounded ahead, jumping up into Michael's arms. His smile grew a little, and he started walking again.

"Wait!" Jack said, panting. "Where are you going! Please don't leave like Elliot did."

"Leave?" Michael's eyebrows knit together, then his expression brightened.

"I'll never leave, don't worry. Elliot didn't leave, either. He just—" he moved his hand in a rippling motion "—drifted away. He'll come back." He started walking again.

"Where are you going, then?" Jack asked. "I didn't know we could go outside. I've tried a few times and I couldn't get anywhere."

Michael looked over at him, his eyes narrowed and searching. "If you left, you would leave, I think. But I won't leave, so I can leave without worries."

Jack laughed. "Well, that clears things up!"

Michael laughed with him, shifting the fox onto his shoulder. Jack wasn't sure he understood.

They walked for a while in silence. Jack kept glancing back to make sure the helm was still there. Michael hummed under his breath and the fox nuzzled into his neck. He was talking slow graceful strides, and Jack felt a bit like he was moving in slow motion. He had to stop often so he wouldn't get ahead.

Suddenly, a burst of flower petals appeared from nowhere and rained down, temporarily blocking everything from view. Before they could land, they melted brightly, revealing a completely different landscape around them—a forest of cherry trees and bright fall maples. Jack whirled around, and, to his intense relief, saw that the helm was still there.

"What happened?" Jack asked.

"You noticed? That's interesting." Michael looked at Jack carefully, setting the fox down and tilting his head slightly, as if to get a better view. "We passed a seam," he said. "We're in a different place now. I think you'll still be able to get back though, as long as I stay out here." He looked at Jack a moment longer, then walked on.

"A seam? I don't understand."

Michael stopped and pointed back towards the helm. Jack followed his gaze, and then he saw it, like a bit of fractured glass, the sky was split between two colors. "A seam." He started walking again.

Before Jack could say anything else, there was another burst of color that resolved into a chaos of monarch butterflies. When they cleared from his view, he saw they were walking through a field of tall, swaying grass. Jack peeked over his shoulder, just to make sure the helm was still there. The butterflies moved off in a swarm, some lingering here and there on the numerous stalks of milkweed. The fox bounded ahead, snapping at them with its jaws.

"Is the helm moving? Is that why it's always different outside?" Jack asked.

"Inside too, I think. The helm is in lots of different places. It doesn't move, but it has to borrow a lot of space. You should ask Wynne, she stitched it all together."

"But how is that even possible?"

Michael stopped again. He looked far off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, then turned slowly and looked at Jack. "I don't know. Why isn't it possible?"

Jack didn't have any answer for this, so Michael started walking again.

"Where did she take the places from?" Jack asked, unperturbed.

"Places no one wants," Michael said. "The secret places, like the back corner behind the stairway. No one ever uses those, so we didn't see any problem borrowing them. We give them back if anyone wants them. That's why things are always changing."

They were walking up a hill, yellow grass flowing by them in waves, a soft breeze blowing loose fall leaves around them. The sun hung low in the sky, throwing golden light onto a solitary maple at the top of the hill. As they walked towards it, Jack could sense the air around them stretching. A fracture appeared in the sky and broke in sudden pieces as they moved.

A great fear seized him and he whirled around, looking wildly for the helm. It was still there, but faintly, as if he was seeing it through layered, rippling veils.

"I don't think you can go much further," Michael said calmly. "I'm at the edges, now. It'll be new things from here."

"So you really are leaving, then?" Jack asked.

The fox trotted up and sat by Michael's feet. Its footsteps pooled darkly in the grass, fading out into a deep, black that merged together behind it.

"No, no. I won't leave. Actually, I'm not sure I can." He didn't seem too worried.

"But I can't go further?" Jack asked again.

"Right." Michael turned around. "It's time for change. Nothing will be the same after this."

The calm within his face deepened. He blinked, and his eyes moved further apart, the dark part within them growing larger. His ears stretched out and settled into long points with soft fur like a deer. He turned his head to the side, and his ears turned back, listening to some distant sound. The fox's ears perked upward as well, and it turned its head to face the gathering void left by its footprints.

"Goodbye for now," Michael said, "I'm sure we'll see each other again."

He smiled and walked over the crest of the hill, the fox close on his heels. As they passed the tree, Jack heard a low sound rumble within the hill. Michael began to sing—a simple melody without words that became many voices moving slowly in and out of each other. The song merged with the low hum and the wind rustling in the leaves, like discordant frequencies coming together. For a moment they created a thrumming beat and held there, an expectant pulsing driving its way deep into the earth and sky. When they became one, reality fractured like glass, the reflection of a million broken mirrors flashing too brightly to see.

Jack opened his eyes.

He didn't realize they had been closed. Michael was gone, and he was standing in front of the helm. It was up in the mountains once more, and, with a rumble of thunder, it began to rain.

Jack went inside.