Break Bones slunk up behind Rondelo. Jason shouted a warning, and Rondelo spun, kicking Break Bones in the chest. During this momentary distraction, the third Black Skull turned his attention to the silver-helmeted Elenil and ran a sword through his heart. He fell like a puppet with cut strings. Rondelo screamed and skidded into the trio of Skulls, fighting them with a fierce passion.
Jason ran for the gate, shouting at them to hold it. The knight heard him and paused. “The silver Elenil has fallen,” Jason said, and he ran up the bridge, which was so high now he could scarcely make it to the top. He hung over the lip, swung his body twice, and just managed to jump across, landing with a bone-jarring thump.
Rondelo kept all the Scim at bay himself, with only Evernu’s help. Jason scooped up the body of the silver-helmeted Elenil. He felt lighter than he should, even though he was completely limp, as if Jason had picked up a bag that should be full of bricks but was stuffed instead with pillows. “Evernu,” he shouted, and the stag fell back to his side. He put the body over the stag’s back and, at Rondelo’s instructions, climbed on himself.
The stag leapt to the top of the bridge, skidding inside the castle walls. The Knight of the Mirror shouted for them to close the bridge, just as Rondelo vaulted through the gap. Jason slipped from the stag, pulling the Elenil man down and laying him gingerly on his back. David and Kekoa appeared beside him, helping Jason get the man’s arms and legs laid out gently.
He didn’t appear to be breathing. Jason carefully removed the silver helmet. The still, quiet face looked familiar.
“Aw, no,” Kekoa said. “It’s Vivi.”
Jason knew that name, but the terror of the last hour prevented him from remembering. But David filled in the blanks when he said, “Hanali’s dad.”
Rondelo fell to his knees beside Vivi’s body. “Ah, brave soul.” Tears sprang from Rondelo’s eyes. “On this night of all nights he fought, when his body cannot be mended with the magic of the Sunlit Lands. He is lost to us.” He closed his eyes, and his next words came slowly but surely, like a poem being quoted: “His bowl is spilt, his thread unspun. His life is past and just begun. He treads now in a clime of sun . . . in the land of the Majestic One.”
“They’re climbing the walls!”
Rondelo rose smoothly to his feet. “Come, friends. Let us avenge Vivi, son of Gelintel, father of Hanali.”
“No,” the Knight of the Mirror said. “These three young men must come with me to my solar. Rondelo, protect Vivi’s body so the Scim will not take possession of him.”
Rondelo lifted Vivi in his arms and set him gently on Evernu’s back. “When the wall is breached, I will take him to Hanali.”
The knight put his hand on Rondelo’s shoulder. “Let us pray that our people can hold the walls long enough to accomplish one more task. Come, boys. Stop staring at the walls and follow me!”
27
PARTINGS
It is no shame to travel with crows.
A KAKRI PROVERB
She missed Darius. It was a ridiculous thing to think as she labored, breathing heavily, to climb the tower stairs. Nevertheless, there it was. She had met him freshman year. He was charming, kind, and smart. Rare enough in a boy at all, nearly extinct among high school freshmen. One day in English, when they were right in the middle of studying Romeo and Juliet, he had shown up at class with three roses for her.
On the note he had written, “Madeline. ‘That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ I called these ‘Madeline,’ and they seemed sweeter. Yours, Darius.”
It wasn’t the most emotionally competent way of breaking the ice, but it could have been worse. Besides, they had been freshmen. He was an emotional genius compared to some of the other kids.
And when she had gotten sick, he had been amazing. But once she knew what was going on—not just her diagnosis, but once she really understood—she’d had to break up with him. She couldn’t let him spend a year of his life watching hers slip away. She knew he would stick by her until the end, and she couldn’t let him do that. She regretted it now. Maybe if she had stayed with him, he’d be with her on this staircase. One thing was certain—as much as she appreciated Ruth’s help climbing the stairs, and as strong as Ruth was for an eight-year-old, Darius could have scooped her up in his arms and carried her. She worried she might not make it through the night, and even after they’d broken up, she’d still secretly imagined that Darius would be there when . . . well, when she breathed her last.
“Are you able to continue?” Ruth asked, her blindfolded face turned toward Madeline’s.
The clash of weapons and the cries of warriors echoed through the courtyard and up the tower. Although they ascended as quickly as Madeline was able, she was afraid the battle would overtake them before she entered the knight’s quarters. “Yes,” she said, and they moved forward another eight hard-won steps before she doubled over, hands on her knees, taking breaths that rasped through her like knives.
“There is a window here,” Ruth said, although how she knew it with her eyes covered Madeline couldn’t say. Perhaps the cool night air touched her face.
Madeline put her hand on the narrow stone window. Waves of Scim had crested the walls. Human soldiers worked to push them back. Madeline suddenly understood why the Knight of the Mirror must require those who fought at his side to do so without magic. Was it all in anticipation of this night? He would be uniquely vulnerable during this time. In fact . . . his magical blessing that nothing could be taken from his hand would be broken tonight, wouldn’t it? That meant the Scim artifacts he was meant to protect would be at risk. Not to mention her and Jason.
The sound of shattering glass came from further up the tower.
Before they could investigate, a bird, green and black with a plume of bright blue on its head, landed on the window.
“Do you bring a message for the Knight of the Mirror?” Ruth asked, her words tumbling out with intense concern.
“The gates are fallen,” the bird said. “Malgwin, harbinger of chaos and suffering, swims the waters of the Sunlit Lands. The Scim have taken the Court of Far Seeing—”
“That we can see ourselves,” Ruth snapped. “What more?”
“They enter the Palace of a Thousand Years, intent on reclaiming the Heart of the Scim. The palace guards hold them floor by floor. The archon is wounded and has retreated to his chambers with the stone. Tirius commands the knight come lest—”
“He could not even if he wished it. The knight is trapped here in his own castle.”
“Then we are lost,” the bird replied. “The Court of Far Seeing is burning. Three magistrates are dead, killed in the square by the Scim. More are wounded, and hours yet remain until daylight.”
“Vivi, too, has left us,” Ruth said. “I have heard the mourning cry of the Elenil from the courtyard.”
“Woe! Woe! Woe to the Sunlit Lands!” the bird cried. “Is the Sword of Years safe? Or have the villains retaken their instruments of destruction?”
“For now they are safe,” Ruth said. “Though the Scim beat upon our very door.”
“This is one bright kindling of hope.”
“Is there no other news, then?”
“None good. The Black Skulls roam our streets. The Scim are fierce and the Elenil all unprepared. It is said the Maegrom have joined their side and allowed the Scim entrance through their own clever tunnels. Even now the—awk! Awk awk awk!” The bird’s head bobbled, as if choking on something in its long neck. It flapped its wings and flew away, high over Westwind, headed toward the center of the city.
“What . . . what happened?”
Ruth, her face set in a grim frown, said, “The magic has faded now even for the messenger birds. It will not be long until the last of the Elenil magic fails for the night.”
They made their way farther up the stairs. One of the stairway mirrors was shattered, and the broken glass crunched beneath their feet. “Is . . . someone . . .” A series of coughs batter
ed Madeline’s chest.
Ruth lowered Madeline to the stone stairs, careful to avoid the broken mirror. “Perhaps there is help above. I will go. Patience.”
Help above? The only person above was Fernanda, trapped in her mirrors. Maybe Ruth was getting one of the magical artifacts. But if the magic was failing, what help would they be? Even the magic mirrors were breaking. A terrible thought crept into her mind. What if someone else was in the tower? One of the Scim or the Black Skulls? That seemed impossible, but what if they had used some sort of magic and arrived before them? Madeline had allowed an eight-year-old to go alone up the stairs.
Madeline struggled to her feet and rested her hand against the wall. Her heart beat frantically, and she felt light headed. She waited for the black waves at the edges of her vision to recede. Then she made her way, step by painful step, upward.
A yelp of surprise came from above, and Ruth pushed herself under Madeline’s arm. “I told you I would bring help. You should have waited.”
She had brought help too. Rushing down the stairs, holding the hem of her dress so she could move more easily, came Fernanda Isabela Flores de Castilla, the lady of Westwind. She draped Madeline’s other arm around her neck, and together the three of them made their way steadily toward the top.
“How—?”
“On this night the cursed enchantment is broken,” Fernanda said. “Tonight alone in the year I walk among you not as a ghost but as a woman.”
A sob caught in Madeline’s throat. She was exhausted, she couldn’t breathe, and she needed to keep climbing. This poor woman, though, had been trapped in the mirrors for the entire year, and now, tonight, she was using her few moments of precious freedom to help Madeline. It was too much to bear.
“Come, come,” Fernanda said. “It is not so bad. Being trapped in a mirror saves me looking in them.”
They had reached the knight’s solar.
“On the bed there,” Fernanda said, and together she and Ruth lowered Madeline onto the rumpled bed in the main chamber. The table with the Scim artifacts sat in full view, unprotected.
“Need . . . to hide . . . the artifacts,” Madeline said.
Fernanda stroked her sweating forehead. “Do not worry, child, my beloved will be here soon. He has a plan, I know, to keep them safe.”
Jason burst into the room, followed by Delightful Glitter Lady trotting along in her golden retriever size. “Madeline!”
Jason’s friends David and Kekoa came in behind him. Kekoa carried a strange weapon with teeth. Then Shula came behind them, her face covered in dirt and gore, her hair loose and wild. She carried a canvas package, which she immediately unfolded in the center of the floor. It was full of weapons. Then Baileya entered, panting.
“The knight bars the tower door,” she said. “He will be here in a moment. For now he asks that each of you arm yourselves, for the battle to leave here will be fierce.”
Shula and Jason were at Madeline’s side now, talking over each other, both concerned for her and trying to figure out how they could help. Of course there was nothing to be done.
The knight appeared a moment later, his sword in hand. His eyes lingered on the magically shrunken rhinoceros, and he frowned at Jason. “Make haste,” he said. “Gather quickly.”
Madeline got to her feet and met them at the table. Fernanda pressed in to the knight’s side, and he took her under his arm, pausing only to kiss her once and say, in barely more than a whisper, “Ah, my lady, at last I hold you for a moment. Forgive me that I must make haste in giving instructions.”
She kissed his cheek and said, “My brave knight, do as you must.”
The Knight of the Mirror looked around the table. “We are nine,” he said. “Before you lie five magical artifacts, weapons of the Scim. Should they retrieve these weapons, tonight’s attack will be only the first course in a veritable banquet of destruction.”
“Maybe we could skip to dessert,” Jason said. The knight ignored him.
“My magical boon returns at first light, but even now the Scim are within the walls of Westwind. I fear what may come. I must ask a brave favor of you all.”
“We’ll do whatever you ask,” Shula said.
“Within reason,” Jason said.
The knight nodded. “Your honesty does you both credit. I fear my request is neither reasonable nor easily accomplished. I desire to fling these five artifacts to the other peoples of the Sunlit Lands so the Scim will not easily recover them.”
Baileya said, “I can take them to the Kakri, Sir Knight, with little difficulty.”
“I hoped you would say so.” He picked up the silver mask. “This is the Mask of Passing. Entrust it, please, to your tribe. I would have Jason join you in your journey.”
“Whoa,” Jason said. “I should go with Madeline. I came here to protect her, not your drama mask.”
Baileya folded her arms. “The desert is harsh, Sir Knight. I fear Wu Song may not be easily accepted among my people. If something were to happen to me before we reached the Kakri, he would surely be lost.”
“Better the mask be lost than returned to the Scim.” Then, to Jason, the knight said, “I do not have the people to send more than two together, and it is more important that each artifact have a warrior to help transport it than that you be near your friend. Your pledge to the Elenil binds you to take this order.”
“Except I didn’t make a pledge to the Elenil, I made a pledge to Madeline,” Jason said. “I’m not leaving her.”
“The knight’s right,” Madeline said. “I will need . . . protection . . . and someone to help . . . me move. At least until . . . morning.”
“Besides,” Shula said. “How would you protect her? Not with bow and arrow.”
Jason blushed. “You saw that, huh?”
Baileya put her hand on Jason’s arm. “I heard tell of it from the knight. It is no shame. You acquitted yourself bravely. To attempt the bow is better than to have run. Better a failure than a coward.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Jason said, still blushing.
The knight handed a folded robe to Kekoa. “Ruth will accompany you to the Zhanin. She knows the way. Sail west, and wait for the song of welcome. If they do not welcome you, or seem hostile, wear the Robe of Ascension for one day . . . only long enough to explain yourself and our situation. Remind their holy ones of my service to them many years ago.”
Kekoa took the robe. “Okay, kid,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Godspeed,” said the knight. “Do not fight unless you must.”
“We should go as well,” Baileya said.
“I want to know where everyone is going in case something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong,” Jason said.
The knight nodded. “Quickly, then. David, to you I give this key, called the Disenthraller. It can open any lock: gate or door, chest or drawer. Take it to the Aluvorean people.”
David nodded once, quickly, and put the key in his pocket. “Anyone I should take with me?”
“You will move faster alone, I think,” the knight said. “Leave the city by the western gate if you can, and head to the southwest. You will see the great trees rise up like mountains. Follow them to the heart of the wood and say these words: ‘Beneath the shadows of the great trees I beg your mercy. Take me to your heart that I might grow.’ If the people reject you, speak to the trees.”
“Beneath the shadows of the great trees I beg your mercy. Take me to your heart that I might grow.” David looked to the knight for confirmation. They exchanged nods. “Good luck to all of you,” David said. He scooped up an extra knife from the canvas covering on the floor and trotted down the stairs.
“I will bar the door behind him,” Fernanda said.
“O wise woman,” the knight called after her. “Shula and Madeline, you must take this stone, the Memory Stone, to the Maegrom.”
Madeline held up her hand. “A bird told us . . . the Maegrom . . . have allied with . . . the Scim.”
The knight def
lated. “That is grave news. I fear, then, that I must take the Memory Stone and try to hold it until dawn. May I be successful! I must ask you two, then, to take the Sword of Years to the Pastisians. They live in the far northeast, beyond the mountains, near the crystal horizon.”
Jason’s tiny rhino whined, and Jason said, “Wait, aren’t those the necromancers? I heard about them.”
“Indeed,” the knight said. “It is a dark time that we have come to this.”
Fernanda burst into the room. “The door is barred, but the Scim are outside the tower. In moments they will knock upon the door.”
The knight placed the rusted sword in Madeline’s hands and the scabbard in Shula’s. “This sword must not be returned to the scabbard, or it will come out new and thirsty for blood. Once awakened it cannot be put to sleep save through bloodshed. It must not fall to the Scim. Guard it with your lives!” He pulled the canvas from the floor, dropping the other weapons with a great clattering of metal. He wrapped the sword and tied it with rope. “Upon the roof a great bird awaits. You are too weak to run, Madeline, but not, I hope, too weak to fly. Head northeast until you think the very world will end, and you will see the lights of their city by night or the smoke of their magics by day. They have great contempt for the magic of the Elenil and the Scim. Tell them they may destroy this sword if they wish and if they are able!”
“Will the bird’s magic last so long?” Shula asked.
A crashing sound came from below. The knight thrust a short sword at Jason. “It is a risk, Shula, but one we must take. Fly low if you can. My lady Fernanda, take Shula and Madeline above. Baileya, Jason, with me to guard their retreat.”
“I thought you wanted us to leave,” Jason said, taking the sword gingerly.
“I fear only Baileya can help me hold the door now,” the knight said. “We must hope we can then provide an exit for the two of you.”
Jason hugged Madeline. “Once we deliver the mask, I’ll find you.”
“Hurry, boy!” the knight cried, running down the stairs. Baileya followed. Jason winked at Madeline and shot after them, Delightful Glitter Lady at his heels.
The Crescent Stone Page 31