The Apothecary at the Last Bridge Part 3

More about The Apothecary at the Last Bridge Part 3

The Bells That Remembered the Wrong Hour
Elara stared at the old man standing before her. Twenty years had passed since Greyhaven disappeared. Her brother appeared to have lived through considerably more. “Corin?” she whispered. The man nodded. “I was beginning to think you would never remember.” The rabbit sighed. “Could we hold this reunion somewhere less impossible?” Corin ignored him. His eyes remained fixed on Elara. “You must listen carefully. The bells have stopped because Greyhaven has noticed the difference.” “What difference?” Bram asked. “Between the hour it remembers and the hour it has returned to.” Tavi glanced toward the silent valley. “That sounds unpleasant.” “It is,” Corin replied. “Especially for anyone still inside.” Elara gripped his sleeve. “Mother. Is she alive?” Corin's expression changed. “She was when I last saw her.” “When?” “Yesterday.” Elara stepped back. “Yesterday?” “For me.” The rabbit sighed. “Naturally. Yesterday means something else.” Corin pointed toward the stone arch. “Greyhaven was folded out of the world, but time did not stop inside it. It broke into separate hours. Some repeated. Others passed too quickly. I spent forty years trying to reach the same morning.” “And Mother?” Elara asked. “She remained in the first hour.” Elara looked toward the houses. Smoke still rose from their chimneys, but nothing moved in the streets. “Then we have to go.” Corin caught her wrist. “Not until we know which hour has returned.” The first bell rang. It sounded deep beneath the earth. A second answered from the mountains. Then a third rang directly above them, although no bell hung there. Bram unfolded his map. Three silver circles moved across the black parchment. One settled over the bridge. Another marked the stone arch. The third appeared inside Elara's apothecary. The rabbit sighed. “This looks expensive.” A window shattered. Blue light poured from the broken glass, followed by a cloud of glittering dust. Elara recognized the scent immediately. Wintermint. Moonflower. And something she had not smelled since childhood. “Mother's sleeping mixture,” she whispered. Corin turned pale. “Then the first hour has found your shop.” Inside, the shelves trembled. Bottles slid forward without falling. The old wooden counter stretched into a long stone table, and the familiar doorway opened onto a room Elara had not seen in twenty years. Her mother's laboratory. A woman stood beside the table, crushing silver leaves in a mortar. Elara stopped breathing. “Mother?” The woman looked up. She had Elara's eyes and the same stubborn expression. “Elara, darling, fetch the blue bottle. Your brother has misplaced it again.” Corin made a strangled sound. “She doesn't see us as we are.” Elara stepped forward. Her mother frowned. “Why are you wearing that strange coat?” “Mother, it's me.” “Obviously.” The rabbit smiled. “I like her.” Elara approached the stone table. “Twenty years have passed.” Her mother smiled. “Don't be ridiculous. You've only been outside for ten minutes.” Corin entered behind her. The woman's smile vanished. She stared at his grey hair and lined face. “Corin?” He nodded. “Hello, Mother.” The mortar slipped from her hands. It struck the floor without making a sound. Every bottle in the room turned blue. “No,” she whispered. “You were supposed to remain outside.” Corin looked wounded. “I spent forty years trying to come home.” “And now you've brought the wrong hour with you.” The walls shook. Outside, dragons circled Greyhaven beneath a red sky. Elara recognized that evening. “The folding,” she whispered. Her mother seized the blue bottle. “Elara, listen. What you remember is not what happened.” “I remember four drops.” “Yes.” “I remember hiding Greyhaven.” “You hid something,” her mother said. “But not the valley.” A tremendous crack echoed from the bridge. Bram shouted from outside. “Elara! The road is dividing!” Corin hurried toward the doorway, but it had become a wall. The rabbit tapped the wall. “Trapped in yesterday. Excellent.” Tavi pressed his ear against the stone. “I can hear bells.” “How many?” Elara asked. “Thirteen.” Her mother closed her eyes. “Then the keeper has awakened.” Corin went rigid. “You told me the keeper was destroyed.” “I told you it was sleeping.” “You said the cage would hold it!” Elara stared at the empty metal cage on the table outside the laboratory. “That little golden light?” Her mother shook her head. “That was the lock.” Silence followed. Even the rabbit had nothing to say. Elara looked toward the red sky. “Then what was inside?” Her mother turned the blue bottle in her hands. “A promise.” The laboratory door reappeared. Beyond it stood a narrow staircase descending into darkness. Corin whispered, “That staircase wasn't there before.” “It was,” their mother replied. “But you were never meant to remember it.” Something enormous scraped against stone below. Tavi backed away.