Time Jumpers by Brandon Mull

“They retire,” the statue said. “Go into hiding. Partly because the duties of a Grand Shaper are taxing, and those who hold the office eventually wear out. Partly so their discovery of a form of immortality can remain hidden. Dandalus knew the secret but didn’t want it getting out.”

  “They can’t leave Creon?” Cole asked.

  “Time Jumpers can only manipulate time inside of Creon,” Violet explained. “Time manipulations can’t survive beyond the borders of the kingdom.”

  “Time Jumpers?” Cole asked.

  “Highly specialized Wayminders who can shape time itself,” Violet clarified. “I hope to be one someday.”

  “You can shape time?” Jace asked.

  “Me?” Violet asked. “Inside of Creon? Just a little. So I’m told. But a little means I have potential. Not all Wayminders do.”

  “Can the Grand Shapers of Creon help us?” Cole asked.

  “Dandalus wants you to seek out Lorenzo Debray,” the statue said.

  “He was Grand Shaper more than four hundred years ago!” Violet exclaimed.

  “I hope he has a sturdy cane,” Jace said.

  “You should be able to find him some distance north of the old cache at Shepherd’s Grove,” the statue said.

  Violet looked like she was ready to freak out.

  “What?” Cole asked.

  “He just told us Lorenzo Debray is alive and where to find him,” Violet gushed.

  “Lorenzo knows more about the vault holding Ramarro than anyone but Kendo Rattan, who created it. Dandalus also recommended you seek out Kendo Rattan, though he is unsure where he is hiding or if he still lives.”

  “Kendo Rattan,” Violet said reverently. “The father of our order. The first and greatest Grand Shaper of Creon—a master Wayminder and expert Time Jumper.”

  “What else?” Cole asked.

  “Beware the Ancient One,” the statue said. “He has allied with evil across the ages in Creon, and is a probable candidate to support Ramarro.”

  Violet shivered. “The Ancient One killed one of our Grand Shapers years ago.”

  “Hard to live forever if you get killed,” Jace said.

  “No mortal is truly immortal,” Violet said. “Some are just really good at stretching it.”

  “True,” the statue said. “The Grand Shapers of Creon are not invulnerable—but they have learned to live indefinitely if nobody interferes.”

  “How old is the Ancient One?” Cole asked.

  “At least fifteen hundred years,” the statue said.

  “He hides his face,” Violet said. “Some people theorize he might be more than one person.”

  “What do you think?” Cole asked the statue.

  “I have no information about the theory,” the statue said. “Dandalus primarily wanted me to urge you to seek out Lorenzo Debray. He may be able to help you prepare defenses against Ramarro.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said.

  “Dandalus was sorry he couldn’t get you this information earlier,” the statue said. “He would have told you this before you left the echolands had he known Ramarro would end up incarcerated in Creon. This was the first castle he sent with a message. He intends to send more, every few days, hoping eventually you would intercept one.”

  “Lucky that we came to Skyport for a Jumping Sword,” Cole said.

  “Dandalus thought you might, since you had to leave yours behind when you crossed back to physical Necronum. He also hoped that with multiple castles professing information about Ramarro you would eventually get word of the phenomenon.”

  “But we found the first castle,” Jace said.

  “Correct,” the statue said.

  “Where did Dandalus go to make this castle?” Cole asked. “Where in the echolands do the castles come from?”

  “I lack that information,” the statue said.

  “Can you guess?” Cole asked.

  The statue gave a small smile. “I was made to deliver certain information and to have some semblance of a personality. I only know what I know.”

  “Do you know anything else about Ramarro?” Jace asked.

  “Only that Dandalus urges you to hurry,” the statue said. “The Void will not hold him very long. You must investigate if a better prison can be devised. Should the torivor get free, there may be no stopping him.”

  “You mentioned another person alive inside the castle,” Cole said.

  “Yes,” the statue said. “I will take you to him.”

  The statue turned, and the wall parted, opening into a stairway. Cole, Jace, and Violet followed the statue until they reached a barred cell. A boy perhaps a year or two older than Cole waited inside, skinny with black hair.

  “You’re a scout?” Jace asked.

  “Yeah, with the Sky Raiders,” he said.

  “I’m Jace. This is Cole and Violet. And a statue.”

  “I’m Trotter,” the boy said.

  “I’m a former Sky Raider,” Jace said. “So is Cole. Today you get a free pass. Want to get out of here?”

  “Really?” Trotter asked. “How’d you beat all the statues?”

  “Cole has some shaping tricks,” Jace said. “What was your item?”

  “A boomerang,” Trotter said. “Always came back, no matter how terrible the throw or how much I moved. A statue caught it and broke it.”

  “Anything else we should know before we go?” Cole asked the statue.

  “You have the message,” the statue said.

  “What message?” Trotter asked.

  “Be glad you don’t have to worry about it,” Jace said.

  “Do we need to go outside?” Cole asked Violet.

  “I’m not sure,” Violet said. “My power went dead when you blasted those statues.”

  Cole hadn’t consciously noticed breaking the connection. “Right,” he said, touching her hand.

  “I can see our way out now,” Violet said. “The defenses are down. Back to the Vulture?”

  “We should let Wenzel know we made it,” Jace said.

  The bars of the cell retracted into the floor.

  A shimmering distortion appeared.

  “Is that a wayport?” Trotter asked.

  “She’s a Wayminder,” Jace said.

  “But she can’t open a wayport here,” Trotter said. “Not in Sambria.”

  Jace hushed him, a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell her.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said to the statue.

  The replica of Dandalus gave a nod.

  Cole stepped through onto the deck of the Vulture. The others joined him, and the wayport closed.

  “Is that Trotter?” Wenzel exclaimed. Several other members of the crew shouted welcomes.

  “Sorry it took me so long,” Trotter said with a wave.

  “We assumed you were long gone,” Wenzel said.

  “I was locked up,” Trotter said.

  “We should go right to Skyport,” Cole told Violet.

  A wayport opened.

  Jace placed a hand on Trotter’s shoulder. “Come with us. I have an idea.”

  They all went through. This time Violet had placed the wayport not far from the entrance to Skyport. The four of them hurried into the common room.

  “Back already?” Adam boomed. “And ahead of the Vulture! Bless my beard, is that Trotter? What were the chances? Good to see you, lad. Cole, I trust you found what you were looking for?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Cole said.

  “I’m laying claim to Trotter,” Jace said.

  Cole’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t thought of the idea, but it was a good one—a chance to free another boy from this dangerous life.

  Adam sniffed and shifted on his throne. “Listen, pup, I paid good money for Trotter. He has now finished twenty missions even. Thirty remain before he moves up from scout.”

  “We don’t work for you,” Jace said. “The crew of the Vulture left him behind. We salvaged him.”

  Adam scowled. “The Sky Raiders had a claim to that castle.”


  “I didn’t see a flag,” Jace said. “The claim is lost when a castle is abandoned.”

  “You got to the castle on one of my vessels,” Adam protested, sounding less certain.

  “Actually, after the Vulture brought us near, we arrived and got home without your skycraft,” Jace said. “No claim was made for the Sky Raiders when we visited the castle this time. Not a single Sky Raider set foot on the property. And we had no agreement with you to share salvage.”

  Adam frowned and nodded. “Valid points. Seeing as how Cole is helping with financial reparations from the High King, I’ll concede the issue. Trotter, you are proof that fortune can turn. You now belong to these three.”

  “And I don’t believe in slavery,” Jace said. “Adam, can you have his slavemark canceled?”

  “I can arrange that.”

  Trotter looked astonished. “Really? I’m free? Just like that?”

  “You’re welcome,” Jace said.

  Cole looked at Jace, impressed. It felt good to know they had freed a slave. Really good. Cole quietly resolved to look for the chance to free more.

  Trotter glanced at Adam. “Do you mind if I stay on as a free partner?”

  “Partner takes time,” Adam said. “But if you want to continue as a free raider or as a hired hand, the door is open.”

  Trotter raised both fists. “Yes! I can’t believe it!” He turned to Cole, Jace, and Violet. “How can I ever thank you? I was doomed. Now . . . I have a brand-new life. I’m forever in your debt.”

  Jace looked around the common room. “I know this place seems like everything right now, but keep in mind there is an enormous world out there. And you are free to explore it. Enjoy it while you can.”

  “Thanks for the tip about the castle,” Cole said to Adam. “It will help our cause. And thanks for the sword.”

  “Always happy to do business,” Adam said.

  “Where to now?” Violet wondered.

  “Do you know a village called Kasori?” Cole asked. “In Elloweer?”

  “Sure,” Violet said. “A grinaldi village. That seems obscure.”

  “I want to catch up with an old friend,” Cole said. He took her hand.

  Violet opened a wayport.

  Jace waved at Adam. “Stop exploiting children.”

  Then he stepped through.

  CHAPTER

  10

  TWITCH

  From the moment Cole stepped out of the wayport, he could see why Twitch had missed his home. Sunlight shone from a mostly clear sky onto a pastoral blend of fields and groves. The dwellings were simple but tidy—the stone houses on the ground, the wooden ones on stilts or in the largest trees. Neat gardens adjoined the dwellings, many with fruit trees, and one large wheat field was in view.

  “What devilry is this?” cried a cranky voice as Violet closed the wayport. “Strangers stepping out of thin air! With the swamp folk, are you? Explain yourselves!”

  The complainer was a scrawny old man almost a head shorter than Cole with a sparse white beard and the legs of a grasshopper. Just like Twitch, a pair of antennae projected from his forehead. He shook a knobby walking stick in their direction to punctuate his words.

  “We’re friends,” Cole said, raising empty hands.

  “A friend wearing a sword,” the old man spat. “Marauders more likely. You better turn tail and magic yourselves away afore our knight gets wind of you. Chop you down to size, he will.”

  “We like the grinaldi,” Cole insisted. “We’re friends with Twitch! I mean, Ruben. Do you know Ruben?”

  The crinkly scowl deepened. “Do I know Ruben? I practically raised the boy! The lad did chores for me. Mostly paid him in apple butter and sweet cakes. Don’t speak that name like it proves anything. Everyone in the region wants to be friends with Ruben. Big hero. Who doesn’t want to join a parade? Be part of the fun?”

  “We’ve known him for a while,” Cole said.

  “Bah!” the man said. “I knew him afore he opened his eyes! Never seen any of you around here before. Especially when times were ugly. I reckon you’re scavengers at best.”

  “We helped him find Minimus,” Cole said politely. “The little knight.”

  “Don’t start underestimating little,” the old man warned, shaking his stick again. “Is that a jab at me? I can still outjump any ten humans, big or small.”

  Jace stepped forward. “Do you know where we can find Ruben?”

  “Now we’re getting to it,” the old man said, taking a couple hops backward. “Assassins, are you? Come to destroy our deliverer?”

  “We really are good friends with Ruben,” Cole said. “He met us during his wanderings. We helped each other. He’ll vouch for us.”

  The old man shook his head. “Strangers that appear asking questions ought to disappear twice as quickly. Our knight will cut you down faster than a bee sting.”

  A female grinaldi hopped into view, landing near the old man. Young, slender, and pretty, she looked no older than Violet. “You be polite, Granddad. They answered your questions patiently.”

  The old man grunted. “Polite? I saw what polite got us with the swamp folk! Got us kicked out of our homes and working our own land like slaves.”

  “These aren’t swamp folk,” she said. “You can see that.”

  “Worse than swamp folk, if you ask me,” the old man said, looking them up and down. “Swamp ghosts, appearing out of empty air. Swamp wizards come for vengeance.”

  “Do you think ghosts would stand there taking all this abuse from you?” the girl asked. “Or wizards? Or assassins?”

  “That’s how they get you,” the old man griped. “Lure you in with honey. You reach out a hand of fellowship, and they stick in the knife.”

  “Or they are polite friends of Ruben inquiring after him,” the girl said.

  “Bah,” the old man grunted, turning away. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Looking around, Cole noticed several grinaldi coming out of hiding. They appeared around tree trunks, rose out of fields, and peered out of windows.

  “I’m Chuli,” the girl said. “First time in Kasori?”

  “Yes,” Cole said. “We really are just looking for Ruben.”

  “Look how many there are!” Jace exclaimed, turning around. “Did you all hide when I came through? Or were you already hiding?”

  “We took cover when we saw the air turn funny,” Chuli said. “Then you appeared.”

  “That was fast,” Jace said. “No wonder Twitch—I mean, Ruben—likes to hide. You guys are experts.”

  “You can find Ruben at the Wallows,” Chuli said.

  “We don’t know where—” Cole began.

  “Down the main village road, past the central storehouse on the left,” Violet piped up.

  “That’s right,” Chuli said.

  “Really?” Jace asked.

  Violet shrugged. “It was on the map.”

  “You have a map of Kasori?” Jace asked.

  “The Wayminder archives do.” Violet tapped her temple. “Good memory.”

  “I can guide you,” Chuli offered.

  “Okay,” Cole said.

  She led them to a little lane and turned down it, passing dwellings on the ground and in trees. They saw no other grinaldi.

  “Is everyone hiding?” Jace asked.

  “We were careful about strangers before the swamp folk took over,” Chuli said. “Our oppressors might be gone, but if anything, we’re even more cautious than before. You don’t have to fight what can’t find you.”

  “Doesn’t that leave your homes vulnerable?” Jace asked.

  “Minimus has been training us how to attack out of hiding,” Chuli said. “It plays to our strengths. Much more effective than direct aggression.”

  “Are the swamp folk completely gone?” Cole asked.

  “Yes,” Chuli said. “The big battle happened here in Kasori after Minimus defeated Renford Poleman, their champion. Renford’s knights from other villages came aft
er Minimus until none were left. The surviving swamp folk returned to their rafts, and Minimus became champion of all our villages.”

  “So things are good now?” Cole asked.

  Chuli did her best to smile. “So much better than it was.” She looked away. “But many of our people were lost in the fighting.”

  Up ahead appeared a large, low building made of mortared stone.

  “The storehouse?” Jace asked.

  “The Wallows is just a little farther,” Chuli said.

  Beyond the storehouse they left the lane for a trail. Cole began to notice a new humidity in the air along with the rich smell of damp earth. As they passed through a stand of trees, several large pools of dark mud came into view. Some had puddles on the surface. Heat radiated from the nearest, and steam rose from a few. Several grinaldi waded or lounged in two of the larger mud pools.

  “Hot springs?” Cole asked.

  “Mud springs,” Jace corrected.

  “The Wallows,” Chuli said with a smile. “The most relaxing haven in all the villages.”

  Violet scrunched her face. “It looks filthy.”

  “Of course,” Chuli said.

  “What’s relaxing about filthy?” Violet asked.

  “You’ll know if you try it,” Chuli assured her. “Ruben is this way, in the Governor’s Wallow. It’s reserved for the aldermen.”

  “Ruben is an alderman?” Cole asked.

  “More or less,” Chuli said. “As champion, Minimus appoints the aldermen. Ruben is his first knight. In some ways that makes him more powerful than the aldermen. And he’s younger than I am!”

  “Scrawnier too,” Jace said.

  “And he’s saved our lives more than once,” Cole said pointedly.

  “Here we are,” Chuli said, speaking more quietly.

  Broad-leafed plants ringed the mud pool where Twitch reclined. Nestled within a smaller and deeper pit than the others, this wallow had the blackest, slickest mud and the most pungent smell. Twitch rested near the bottom, alone, at the edge of where the mud pool leveled out, pink flower petals over his eyes. Only his chest, arms, and head remained above the muck. A female grinaldi climbed out of the pit carrying an empty cup, grasshopper legs muddy to the thighs.

  “Did she just bring him a drink?” Jace murmured.

  “This is the fanciest wallow,” Chuli whispered.