"You?" said Geary, his voice heavy with disbelief. "You're the Keeper?"

The Keeper straightened. "Yes." She spoke with a foreign lilt. She was petite in size but tall in presence. I was not surprised, myself.

Geary scoffed. "Prove it."

"Either you believe me or you don't," said the Keeper. "Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I said prove it!" barked Geary.

The Keeper's eyes narrowed to slits. "There is no way for me to prove it to you. State your cause here, or leave."

Stieve, impatient, cut in from behind. "We want you to lift the curse that's been placed upon Killi. Nothing will grow, people are sick with illness and corruption, and we haven't seen sunlight in years."

A veil of sadness came over the Keeper's eyes. She bowed her head and said softly, "That curse cannot be lifted."

"Cut that bull," growled Geary. "You're the Keeper. You control the land. Now lift the curse or this dagger will find someone's throat."

"I'm sorry," the Keeper said. "You think I wouldn't lift the curse if I could? Do I enjoy watching the people of Killi rotting in their cursed land? No. There's nothing I can do. His power is so strong it seeped into the land. Contaminated the soil, the water, and the people."

"He?" Stieve asked. "Who's he?"

"What trout crap you spouting, lady?" barked Geary. "Is there another Keeper? Is he the one doing this to us?" He lifted his eyepatch to reveal a reddened patch of skin. "A rogue chipmunk got me the other day. It had fangs, lady. The animals are turning in monsters, just like those Serpeople we just killed!"

The Keeper shook her head. "There is no other Keeper. Just one stupid enough to fall for trickery."

"No riddles!" barked Geary. In one swift motion, he grabbed me and pushed his dagger against my throat. "Lift it."

An outraged cry and shout sounded behind me. There was scuffling, then Keenan cried, "We're fine!"

"My friends have your friends," sneered Geary into my ear. "Now, if the Keeper will just behave..."

My fingers hung by my side, twitching and itching for the hilt of my sword. Geary had tossed my sword aside, and it now lay in the smooth sand, glowing under the luminescence of the giant pearls embedded in the giant ceiling.

I could elbow Geary in the gut, grab my sword, and fight him one-handed if I had to. But Keenan and Marylea couldn't, Fabe was passed out, and Tem was gone...

"All right, all right," said the Keeper, holding out her slender fingers. "Come inside. I'll show you my monitoring room, and prove to you that I'm the Keeper."

"No tricks!" spat Geary. His foul spit landed on my cheeks, and I gagged.

"No tricks," the Keeper repeated softly. Her dress whirled around her legs like waves as she walked.

Geary released me and pushed me forward. "Go on," he growled.

"I shouldn't have woken you," I said in a low voice.

Geary only laughed.

Past the doors was a tropical paradise I'd never seen before. Lush greenery with leaves the size of a small boat; flowers of red, yellow and orange, meandering, bubbling brooks flowing through islands of life.

"Follow me," said the Keeper. She stepped over the brooks deftly in her leather sandals. I was first in line. Geary stomped behind me, his breath raspy and foul. Behind us, Keenan, Marylea, and the three other hoodlums followed.

We came to a shack made out of bamboo and raised on bamboo stilts, was built before a towering waterfall that crashed into a pool below. The pool flowed into a wide river with water so clear you could see to the rocky bottom.

"That's your home?" laughed Geary. "Not enough funds, Keeper lady?"

The Keeper did not answer. Instead, she walked up the stairs leading up to the shack. I followed closely, and she held the door open for me.

The shack looked nothing like its exterior. I stepped from a tropical jungle into a room with sheer metallic walls, beeping and blinking controls, and holographic monitors that covered every inch of the walls except for two square windows on either side of the room. It was notably cooler inside and smelt of antiseptic herbs.

"This is my monitoring room," said the Keeper, her arms resting delicately in a V shape on her front. "Each screen represents each Kingdom - their population size, the weather, political situations, holidays, standard of living. Killi is over here." She walked to the far end of the room and stopped before the second panel from the right.

As we walked, I couldn't help scanning the panels for Aragonia. But Geary's rough shoving made it impossible to read the small words.

"Killi," Geary read. "Population, one thousand and twenty-six. Weather, thunderstorms. Plague. Standard of living, three. Three out of a hundred, eh?"

"Ten," said the Keeper quietly.

Geary tightened his fingers around his dagger hilt. "And you couldn't do anything about that?"

The Keeper looked forlornly at the panel. "It was beyond my control."

"Load of bull! Tell me how to reverse the curse. What're these buttons for?"

"Kind sir, I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities. I am not a deity. I have no control over the weather, nor the people. The only control I yield is over the Shapers. My job is to govern the Shapers so they don't run wild. If my memory doesn't fail me, your Kingdom is still..." She glanced at the panel. "Shaperless."

The hoodlums looked stunned.

Then Geary raised his dagger, cornered the Keeper against the control panels and pressed the dagger against the Keeper's neck. "More lies!" he shouted. "Our King said a new Shaper arrived years ago."

I stiffened, but knew I was no help. My sword was still laying in the bay, and Stieve, Oswald and Louey were blocking the doorway.

The Keeper did not look fazed at the dagger pressed against her neck. "They are the ones lying to you, not me. That Shaper is fake."

Geary released her with a roar. "Well that explains it, then. Why we're so cursed! Find us a new Shaper, lady."

The Keeper reached for a glass of water on the control panel and took a sip. "There is no new Shaper until a descendant of the current one reaches maturity. According to my records, there is no such descendant."

Stieve stepped forward. "Then find our Shaper!"

She took another sip. "I don't know where your Shaper is. I don't track them outside their Kingdom, where they are not a threat."

Then something occurred to me. The Keeper's face looked younger, smoother. The wrinkles around her eyes were gone.

Oswald, who'd been quiet until now, asked, "How old are you?"

Geary leered at him like he'd asked a stupid question.

"I'm a thousand and six," said the Keeper calmly.

"How are you so young?" asked Stieve.

"I don't age." She took another sip.

"It's the water!" burst Geary. "It's the fountain of youth!"

The Keeper's eyes widened ever so slightly. "I wouldn't drink this if I were you. It will kill you."

Geary lunged for her glass, but before he got to it, the Keeper tossed its contents out the window.

"Stupid broad," cried Geary. "Where'd that water come from? Tell me!" He grabbed her neck and held her up against the wall. "Tell me!"

A shock of anger shot through me. All self-control evaporated, and my limbs sprang into action.

"Let her go!" I cried, but before I could lunge at Geary, a hairy, sweaty hand grabbed my arm. Stieve grinned at me, his teeth crooked and rotting.

"The r-river," sputtered the Keeper, grasping at her neck.

Geary's fingers released the Keeper, who slid to the floor choking and coughing, her slim fingers massaging her bruised neck.

"C'mon, gang," said Geary, gesturing his comrades out the room. "Let's go try that elixir out for ourselves."

They shuffled out the room, laughing and giving each other high fives, having all but forgotten about the reason they came in the first place.

Once they left, the Keeper got to her feet, dusted her dress off, and walked to the window facing the river.

"They never wanted to save their Kingdom," she said softly. "All they wanted was power. To return to their Kingdom and say they saved it, so they may be revered and fawned on."

"Is that why you refused them?" I asked, walking up next to her.

She shook her head. "I was telling the truth. Killi cannot be helped."

Marylea gasped. "They're drinking the water."

"As I knew they would," said the Keeper.

"They're going to die," said Keenan softly. "That was your plan."

The Keeper turned to us, and I saw that her eyes were tired, weary. "It shames me to resort to such methods. But you understand."

The gang cupped their hands together and scooped crystal clear water from the river. They swallowed it greedily, like they hadn't had water for days.

A part of me wanted to cry out, but that part was also the one that'd gotten us into this mess in the first place. So I pressed my lips together, crossed my arms, and braced myself for what would happen next.

"I feel it," Geary laughed. "I feel younger. Boys, we're going to be rich!"

The others laughed with him, and they drank more. Water slopped down their beards, trickling onto the grass.

Then they stopped laughing.

Geary was the first to fall. He doubled over, clutching his gut, and began writhing in agony. Then Stieve, Oswald, Louey. All four of them shook on the ground, their eyes rolling back in their heads.

Geary managed to turn his head back to stare at us. "W-what...did...you..." Then his face went slack and he stopped moving.

In only a few seconds, the others had gone limp, too. I didn't know if I should celebrate or cry. I looked at my companions: Marylea's eyes were red, a hand clasped tightly over her mouth. Keenan just looked grim. His eyes met mine, and in them I saw relief.

"I never meant to kill anyone," the Keeper said softly. Then she wrung her hands and said, "Now let's go fetch your passed out friend, shall we?"