Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures)

by Terry Kroenung

  “But even children, begging your pardon, miss, have to be spanked every now and then. For their own good, I mean.”

  I gave him a long, hard stare that must’ve cooled off the summer afternoon by ten degrees. “Don’t even think it. You ain’t my Pa…sir.”

  He touched the brim of his hat with a white-gloved hand. “As you say…ma’am.” Spurring Alcibiades more sharp than necessary, he moved away without another word. I watched him for a moment to make sure he didn’t abuse Romulus again out of spite, but they stayed well apart.

  “Whoo! Remind me,” said Jasper, “not to get on your bad side.”

  I smiled. “Too late. I can still taste that cigar.”

  “Someday you’ll thank me for that. Besides, who’s the one walkin’ on two good feet?”

  He had a point. It had been a fair enough bargain, considering what he might have asked for instead. I went to school with boys his age. Their minds smelled fouler than the Washington Canal. “Okay, okay. But why do get the feelin’ that when I need somethin’ truly big from you that I’ll be payin’ some serious interest?”

  “Hey, I didn’t make the rules.”

  “Well, just remember, no pound of flesh.”

  “Why not? I can heal always you later. Romulus looks like he can spare it.”

  “What’s this, pick-on-Romulus day?”

  “No, it’s picnic-on-the-battlefield day, remember?”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m not overjoyed with our plan.”

  “You mean you’re not overjoyed with the cost.”

  “That, too. You’re sure I can’t just owe it to you? Pay later?”

  “Sorry. I need the energy ahead of time to charge the magick. Couldn’t give you credit even if I wanted to.”

  While I pondered our thin plan to get through to the other side of the feuding armies, we all kept plodding along. It seemed the only folks trying to get into Richmond from the north side were gray-uniformed soldiers and me. Story of my life, always swimming against the tide. It reminded me of the time Eddie smacked a beehive with a rock. All of the other kids had run for their lives, but I’d dashed up to see what an angry hive looked like. I sure enough found out. Ma had clucked over me all night, putting compresses on all of the stings, while Eddie had just made fun of me for getting what I’d deserved by being so simple.

  And I get the feelin’ I’m gonna get stung again pretty soon. This time there’s no Ma or Eddie to make things better.

  Just in time to accent my mood, clouds started to come in during the afternoon. The nearer we got to Richmond, and by three o’clock I could see the spire of what looked to be its biggest church, the darker the sky became. A misty rain started to fall. The roads were hard-packed enough from travel and sun-baking that they didn’t turn to mud. I felt glad to be cooler, but the quick weather change, coupled with the snake incident and thinking about Ma and Eddie, glummed me something awful. To make matters even worse, distant thunder rumbled in around four o’clock, just as we hit the capital’s northern outskirts. When the thunder didn’t fade away, but grew in volume and duration, I knew we were in for it.

  Guns. Artillery. Lots and lots of cannons firing east of town.

  We’re too late. The battle’s already started. Now how do we get to the coast? A detour south and then east would take forever. We might get to London too late to help Eddie. It made me want to sit in the middle of the road and cry.

  Tyrell, face aglow with fighting fever, cantered up on Alcibiades, who seemed just as excited. The captain gripped his short-brimmed cap in one hand, waving it over his head in big circles. That long dark hair of his danced in the light rain.

  “The show’s begun, Miss Mary!” he whooped. “Now we’ll show Little Mac what a mistake he’s made!” Slapping his hat back on but askew, he held out a gauntleted hand to me. “Climb up here. My boys need me. Time to move.”

  Before I knew it I’d been jerked aloft into my customary place in front of him. From my high perch I saw that the crowds of civilians on the road didn’t exactly share Tyrell’s enthusiasm for battle. They all looked at one another in a forlorn way, like they were attending the same funeral. Alcibiades whinnied and charged down the road. People scattered as the enormous horse, resembling a glistening bronze statue, galloped into Richmond. His hooves made the same sound as the far-off cannon.

  “What about Tom?” I asked, gripping Al’s mane as tight as I could.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Tyrell replied in a tight ominous tone. “Already arranged.”

  22/ Lost in the Rain

  “Shape-shiftin’ ain’t my cup o’ tea. Felt like bein’ born and givin’ birth at the same time.”

  Jasper made a nauseated sound. “Ooh, there’s an image. You know, livin’ in your mind makes me feel…dirty…sometimes.”

  Already arranged? What the heck does that mean? Can’t be good. I struggled to get loose, but Tyrell had the back of my overalls in a vise-grip. We roared into Richmond like a runaway locomotive, Al’s feet barely ever touching the dirt streets. The capital city of Virginia and the southern Confederacy blurred past my side vision. I had no time for sightseeing, I just didn’t want to fall from this tremendous horse. No longer the happy-go-lucky apple-muncher I’d grown used to, Alcibiades seemed transformed into some mythological beast of battle. The cannons’ roar drew him like the pole draws a compass needle. If I hadn’t known any better I’d have sworn that fire sparked from his flared nostrils.

  Tyrell matched his mount’s fierce determination to reach the field of war. His eyes almost glowed from the fervor that drove him on. Every muscle taught as steel cables, the Reb captain had become a part of his steed. He leaned forward as if he could fly there like Mercury, winged sandals and all. Little did I know then how close that was to being the truth about him and Al both.

  “Let me go!” I hollered, clutching the horse’s neck like it was a tree trunk in a gale. “I need to get Romulus!”

  “Who?” Tyrell shouted back, only half-listening. He’d been waving pedestrians and buggies aside, shouting that he was on a mission for General Lee.

  “Tom,” I snapped, catching myself. “We need Tom.”

  “Your darky has other business. It’s all taken care of. Now hold on, I know a shortcut.”

  Alcibiades cut left quicker than my stomach or my head could keep up. Dizzy from the turn to the east, I nearly slid off. At that height and speed that might’ve been the end of me. Tyrell’s iron hold, so annoying a moment before, had turned into a lifesaver. We dashed down a narrow side street with no traffic. That overjoyed me, because the terrifying speed at which we traveled boggled my mind. I’d been on horses before, being raised on a farm, but trotting a fat old plow horse and galloping a mighty cavalry charger were night and day. My pulse and my mind raced like lightning. No wonder men rushed out to join Stuart’s horsemen.

  “Yee-hah!” Jasper screamed. “This is the best thing ever! You’re earnin’ bucketloads of magick, girl!”

  I struggled to focus my thoughts on him and still concentrate on staying astride Al. “Yeah, well, I’m about to lose bucketloads of my lunch if we don’t slow down!”

  “Go ahead! It’ll only make us go faster. Woo-eee!”

  We were coming to an intersection with a major street. While I tried to think of a snappy retort to Jasper, not easy when your bones are shaking apart, a refugee wagon pulled right out in front of us, piled high with a family’s worldly belongings.

  That’s it. We’re all dead. Here endeth the Quest.

  “Hang on!” Tyrell hollered, letting go of me to get both hands on the reins.

  Hey! If I hang on any tighter I’ll strangle your horse!

  My Confederate captain urged his horse up. Our one chance was to jump the wagon. The awful shaking stopped as all of Al’s feet left the ground. As we sprang up into the misty air time seemed to slow down to nothing. No sound reached my ears except the pounding of my own horrified heart. Amidst it all I had several clear thoughts.

&nb
sp; We ain’t gonna clear the wagon. It’s too high. Even Al ain’t strong enough. It’s up to me. And this is a life-or-death situation, Jasper.

  Whipping the tin cup from my belt, I aimed it down at the street. My will charged down my arm. Just as our momentum began to slow, Morphageus sent a pair of steely hooves down beneath Al’s rear legs. For an instant we were astride a six-legged horse. The extra boost proved just enough. We clipped the leg from a chair atop the wagon, and almost the driver’s head, too, but we made it up and across in one piece. Tyrell and I both ‘oofed’ from the impact of the hard landing. Alcibiades skidded to a stop, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d made the jump. Tyrell panted from the exertion and the terror. At least my secret was still safe. Both he and the wagon driver had had their eyes closed.

  There was a long pause while we all caught our breath. Beyond belief we were alive and well. The wagon pulled away, driver muttering curses at us. Then I got loud proof, in my ears and in my head, that men and boys are all the same.

  Tyrell and Jasper, as if they’d planned it, let out a tremendous Rebel yell together. I swooned from the aural assault.

  “Aaiee-yahh!” the Confederate screamed. Alcibiades reared up in agreement. The captain waved his cap to a couple of admiring boys who had seen the jump but not my magickal assist. They took off their own hats and tossed them into the gray sky, cheering us and beaming.

  Then we were racing off east again as if nothing had happened.

  Alcibiades showed no signs of tiring. In fact, the magnificent beast gained speed as we careened through the city. Mothers yanked their kids onto sidewalks, carriage drivers shook their fists at us, wounded veterans shouted encouragement to their fellow soldier, and Jasper kept hooting about how much fun it all was. I could only think of one thing.

  Need to get off of this fool horse. Now.

  There were too many people around now to use Morphageus, so landing with a spring wasn’t any good. I had to do it on my own, or as on my own as practicable. All of my senses stayed heightened by the Stone, I’d noticed, which also sped up and deepened my decision-making. None of that had to be recharged the way Jasper claimed the sword had to be. Must’ve just fed off of my soul or life-force or natural freckled cuteness. If I concentrated, most of the fear of being on a half-controlled horse faded away, as did the confused blurring of my vision while I searched for a way off. I even managed to dim Jasper’s non-stop cackling.

  Tyrell no longer held onto my overalls. Guess the wagon episode taught him to use both hands. That made my jump easier. Before he knew that I planned to leave I’d let go of Al’s neck and slid to the right. Up ahead I spotted the one chance of a landing that might not involve breaking any of my treasured bones. I sure hoped that the Stone-enhanced senses also improved my aim and coordination.

  Springing out from the speeding horse with all my might, I stretched out my arms in front of me. Zipping through the rainy air like a red-haired arrow, I darted straight at my target, a big communal horse trough. No animals drank from it, though a couple of geezers stood next to it gabbing. Discussing the weather, maybe. They were about to get something better to talk about.

  ‘Did I ever tell you about the time a girl flew into a horse trough? Soaked my best suit, she did.’

  I feel for you, fellers. My best suit was about to get drenched, too. Heck, my only suit at the time. Oh, well, it’s rainin’. I’m already wet.

  Sure enough, the Stone guided me straight into the slimy tank. A split-second before I hit I twisted around to land in a ball, back-first, hands covering my head. The water didn’t turn out to be much softer than the ground. At least, that’s how it seemed at the time. The wind got knocked out of me and I swallowed a mess of water before I managed to scramble up to clutch the side of the trough, gasping. Let me share some wisdom with you: water tainted with mule spit is not the nectar of Olympus.

  A pair of ancient but strong hands lugged me out of the trough and onto my feet. Getting my overalls grabbed all the time began to annoy me. Twisting away, I freed myself and shook all over like a soaked dog. People stared at me as if I’d cheated death, a pretty accurate summation of events. I gave the onlookers, including the pair of elderly gents who looked close to heart failure, my most winning smile and a big shrug.

  “That’s why I prefer to ride in a buggy!” Folks laughed and I sprinted off the way I came, leaving a trail behind me on the street. My boots squished like sponges and my clothes weighed a ton. I felt like I ran in a dream, where everything’s in slow-motion and you don’t manage to get anywhere. But I had to get back to where I’d lost Romulus. Richmond was too big and chaotic to find somebody if you let it go for too long. Getting turned around a couple of times, eventually I had to slow down and ask somebody to show me the road from Hanover Courthouse. They pointed me in the right direction and after about half an hour I got to the place where Tyrell had kidnapped me.

  No Romulus. Nowhere, no how.

  Controlling my panicky breathing, I dashed into every store on the block, asking if they’d seen a giant shaved-head Negro anyplace. Nope. I had no luck asking people on the street, neither. But since they all clearly thought I’d lost my mind—soaked to the skin, hair matted, eyes wild, raving—maybe all they wanted was to get away from me. It seemed as if he’d been swallowed up into the earth. Later on I found out that this was just what had happened, more or less.

  After fifteen minutes of useless searching I plopped down on a bench outside a cobbler’s shop, the pounding in my head echoing the thump of the guns. I sat alone in a strange town in wartime, a great battle had begun, my only family in mortal danger, and now my trusted guide had vanished. Verity, you’re in a world of trouble. But darn it, I was still the Stone-Warden, born to save humanity and restore the world to its natural order. Time to do what great heroes do.

  I cried. A lot.

  I bawled like every baby ever born. I wailed until my throat rebelled. I blubbered until snot ran down my shirt. Oh, I did it right. And at the end of it, of course, I had improved my lot not one tiny bit.

  Not true, to be honest. After making such a fuss someone was bound to ask me why I wimpered. That someone turned out to be a soldier working for the Provost Marshal. A military policeman, truth be told. His worried round doughy face, rain running down it, appeared in front of mine like a big wet pie.

  “Honey,” he asked in a slow drawl that told me he came from way south of Richmond, “maybe you’d best tell me what the trouble is.”

  Sniffing, I gulped air, collected my thoughts, and reassumed my Mary Williams role. I spun him much same tale I’d told Tyrell about my lost brother, but added a bit about losing good and faithful Tom, Pa’s best hand, who’d raised me from a pup. If I didn’t find Tom my Daddy’d whup me, not to mention that I’d be all sorrowful about losing my best friend. That last part didn’t require much in the way of a performance.

  “Loose slaves have all been rounded up and put to work diggin’ fortifications, darlin’,” the plump soldier told me. “North and east o’ town. That’s what I’ve been doin’ all day. If we see ‘em we line ‘em up and march ‘em off. Sometimes folks point ‘em out to us, then we grab ‘em and add ‘em to the bunch. Don’t recall seein’ that buck o’ yours, though. But there’s other details besides mine.”

  “Where do you send ‘em?” I asked, calming down liked oiled waters as I grasped at this straw. “Is there a central place they go before bein’ sent to the works?”

  He wiped his face with a bandana no drier than the rest of him, his musket slung over his shoulder, muzzle-down to keep the water out. Another bandana had been wrapped around the lock for the same reason. “ No, we just get ‘em all out to either the Williamsburg Road to the east or the Mechanicsville Turnpike farther north. Whichever’s closest. Somebody there decides where to send each bunch.”

  For the first time I looked past him to see his detail. Five other soldiers, as bedraggled as hobos, stood guard on maybe a dozen forlorn black men of al
l shapes and sizes. None of them was my Romulus. “Where are y’all goin’?”

  “North side. The fightin’s all out the Williamsburg way. Federals sent out a forced reconnaissance, ran into Huger’s brigade. Sharp work over there. But General Lee’s afeard that McClellan will take the chance to move around us to the north, so we’re to extend the trench line.”

  This was the best-informed sergeant I’d ever run into. Most soldiers seldom knew anything more about the tactical situation than, “Well, the colonel says fer us to go get ‘em yonder.” Maybe that’s why the Rebs do so well.

  “Could I tag along with you? See if he’s there?” I begged, putting on my best and cutest face. It wasn’t much, after the rain and crying and whatnot, but I tried. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

  “Land sakes, no, child!” His horrified expression told me that he’d prefer charging grapeshot. “It’d be as much as my backside’s worth to take a little girl out there. For all we know the entire Yankee army’s about to charge into Richmond with all they got. Your Pa wouldn’t thank me if I got his baby captured or worse.”

  I stuck out my lower lip in a great big pout and let it quiver a bit. My tear-stained eyes started to well up some. A catch came into my breath as if an enormous sob was on the way. Eddie would’ve been proud. I hadn’t been spending all that time at Ford’s Theatre for nothing.

  My performance worked…sort of. The sergeant must’ve had at least one daughter, because he had the look of a man who’d do almost anything to avoid the waterworks. “All right, all right. Tell you what. I cain’t take you with us, but I can look ‘round when we get there and see if your Tom’s in sight. Where’ll you be so I can send a message?”

  Good question. Sticking where I was wouldn’t do. Tyrell might retrace his steps as I’d done and come looking for me. I couldn’t afford to waste time running from him or figuring out another escape. “Where’s General Lee’s headquarters?”

  “Out along Nine Mile Road, just past Battery Five. Widow Dabbs’ house. A little more than a mile east of town. ‘Bout two miles from where we sit.” My benefactor cocked his head at me and squinted. “Why? You surely ain’t thinkin’ o’ goin’ out there?”