Caleb crawled in, through, and over every surface he could find, seeking any trace of nullstone with tiny pulses of his own power. After two of those resulted in small fires in the deadwood, he stopped. “Ernst?”
The familiar was higher in the tangled branches, where an adult’s weight would be a liability. “Nothing. There’s no nullstone here. None within at least five hundred yards.”
“Then we move on.”
The next stop was little more than a mud hole, where little Emily had insisted there was water during all but the hottest of summers. Caleb crouched at the edge of the cracked, dry pond while Ernst made slow progress out to the vaguely damp center. “Anything?”
Ernst sniffed at the remnants of the once-vibrant spring, his furry nose twitching for a long moment before he shook his head. “No. And this spring’s been broken. It’ll never hold water again after this summer.” He thumped the crust of hard-baked mud with one hind foot. “Been cracked all the way down to the bedrock.”
“Was that from the heat or the earthquakes?”
“Both.” Ernst hopped back up on the hauler, getting comfortable again. “North then?”
For a moment, Caleb hesitated. They were close to Warner’s, and he truly wanted to search the ranch proper, but he was certain the rancher wasn’t going to sit idly by and let that happen. Best to eliminate all other possibilities, he finally decided, before he kicked that particular hornet’s nest. “Yes. North.”
They rode wide around Hope on their way back north, so it was just past noon before they located the trail from the morning before. It was easy then to follow the bent and broken grasses to the site of the abandoned teepee.
The two horses still lay where they’d been felled, the carcasses swollen with gases, a noisy cloud of black flies going about their gruesome but necessary work. Caleb walked around the small camp, but nothing appeared to be disturbed. Everything was just where it had been left when the family disappeared. He crouched to pick up the little girl’s doll, forgotten in the dirt. “Someone is missing you, I’ll wager.” He dusted it off and absently tucked it into his pocket, eyeing the rest of the waste grimly. “Why didn’t they come back for their things once we were gone? Or to butcher the horses, at least? They were nearly starving; that could have been a lot of meat for them.”
“Perhaps they were too frightened.”
“Maybe.”
It was impossible to tell from the scribbles on the map just where the town’s children liked to take their picnics, but the camp seemed as good a place as any to start. Caleb placed his bare hand flat on the ground and whispered, “Zoek.” His power went seeking through the parched soil, finding dry roots that shriveled away from his touch, scuttling bugs taking shelter deep within the earth and a small warren of hardy prairie rabbits that had denned up against the heat of the day.
He followed the pulse outward as far as he could, until it dissipated into nothing. Nowhere did he detect the nullifying effects of the white chalky stone. “Ernst, I’m going to try another one. Be on the lookout for fires, all right?”
“Will do.”
Caleb took a deep breath, gathering up as much power as he dared use in such a tinder-dry clime. It pulsed out through his palm and into the soil, an ever-widening circle of sensation, the obstacles in its path reflecting back to Caleb in blue afterimages behind his eyelids. Rocks, plants, animals, insects at varying distances. A small stream, deep within the earth to the north, burbling its way from somewhere even farther without ever breaking the surface. And almost directly to the west of his position, a large circle of nothingness, a void that his power found and spread around but could not touch or read.
His eyes sprang open. That hadn’t been nullstone, which would have absorbed and swallowed the seeking pulse. Something—or someone—was trying to hide their presence from him. “Ernst, three hundred yards to the west. It might be the family that belongs here, so go gentle.”
The jackalope blinked out without being asked, and Caleb ran to catch up. The tall grasses sliced at the backs of his bare hands, and he was disturbingly reminded of his dream, riding a horse through this very same prairie.
They obviously heard him coming. By the time he was even close, he could hear the mother calling out in their language, frantically herding her children away. “Wait! Wait! I won’t hurt you!” Where the hell was Ernst when he needed him?
The woman was trying to run with her daughter on her hip, pulling her son along by one hand as fast as they could go in the tall grass. With his long strides, Caleb caught up easily, but when he reached to stop her, the boy whirled with a knife in his small hand, swiping at the Peacemaker.
“Whoa!” He jumped back, just in time to avoid the rough blade, and held his hands up to show they were empty. “Easy, son. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, you don’t have to run from me.”
The child obviously did not believe him, and still facing down the man twice his size, he said something to his mother. He told her to take the girl and run. He’s going to slow me down so they can get away. Caleb knew it from the look in the boy’s eyes, a grim determination that should never be on the face of one so young. “Ernst . . . I could use some help here. . . .”
The little jackalope popped into view, grumbling to himself. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Tell me to go somewhere, then take off running. . . It’s hard to keep up!” The Indian boy’s dark eyes grew very wide, and he called something to his mother. The woman returned warily, torn between watching the jackalope and keeping her eyes on the large man her son was menacing. She finally settled on looking at Ernst, asking him something in her own language.
“Can you understand them, Ernst?”
The familiar took a few cautious steps forward and seemed relieved that the Indian family didn’t bolt. “Not so much. I may know a way, but it’s going to be very taxing.”
The Indian woman looked at Caleb this time, asking the same question as before. He held up one hand, imploring her to wait. “This better work, Ernst.”
“Hold on to your hat,” the familiar mumbled, and hunkered down into a little brown ball of fur on the ground.
For a long moment, nothing visible happened. The humans present exchanged puzzled glances, all of them uncomfortable, but none yet willing to flee the scene entirely. Caleb tried to offer the woman a small smile, but she only watched him, her body tensed to bolt at the first untoward move on his part.
The boy exclaimed suddenly, pointing at Ernst.
The furry little form was growing transparent as Caleb watched, the dry grass behind him visible right through his body. “Ernst? Is this supposed to happen?”
Suddenly, the Indian woman pointed with a gasp to their right. There, huddled in the grass, was Ernst. Or, at least it was another jackalope, as transparent as Caleb’s familiar. Both the creatures shivered in unison, and raised their heads to speak.
“I can’t keep this up for long. Being in two places at once is difficult,” the leftmost jackalope informed them in English, while the one on the right parroted the words in the other language.
Caleb swept his hat from his head, crouching down to look at Ernst. “If this is too hard, forget it. I don’t want you to harm yourself.”
Again, the two jackalopes spoke in unison. “I’m fine. Just hurry.” The Indian woman babbled something at him, pointing emphatically at Caleb. “They wish to know what you want.”
That made Caleb sit back on his heels and think for a moment. What did he want?
“Ticktock, Caleb. Grains through the hourglass and all.” The two Ernsts’ noses twitched in perfect unison.
“Why are they alone? Where are their people?” That seemed as good a place as any to start.
The question was relayed, though Caleb found it disturbing to hear Ernst repeating his own words back at him. The woman drew herself up stiffly, holding her daughter tightly and pulling her son c
lose.
“Five days ago, I took my children to gather greens away from the camp early in the morning. Sometime before noon, we heard gunshots and screaming, and we hid away. When things were quiet, we returned to find that everyone had been killed and our teepees burned. We took what we could salvage, and our horses, and we are going south to find my sister’s people.”
The memory of Caleb’s dream haunted him, the bodies tossed about negligently as if they’d been no more than debris in the way. “Who did this?”
“The white man. We saw the tracks of the skyfire horses.” He could hear the accusation in her voice, even if he could not understand her words directly.
“Which white men? From the town?” He pointed in the direction of Hope.
“I do not know.”
“And you have no idea why?”
She shook her head. “We were peaceful. We did not venture into the plains to taunt and raid like the Dog Soldiers. But they came anyway. A woman of the People led them.”
Caleb frowned. “A Cheyenne woman was with them?”
It was the boy who answered this time. “I saw them days before the attack. They moved among the rocks, and she spoke to the spirits of the earth, asking them questions they did not want to answer. She forced them, and the ground shook.”
The earthquakes. “Do you know what she was asking them?”
The boy shook his head. “Foolish questions that made no sense. Seeking rocks within the earth.”
Ernst’s form wavered, growing thinner by the moment. “Hurry, Caleb.”
“Why did you not butcher the horses if you are hungry?”
This time, the mother spoke. “The man with the dead eyes has been known to poison carcasses and leave them. We did not dare touch them.”
That could only be Schmidt, and Caleb hated him a bit more knowing that. “Tell them to wait here, Ernst. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait to hear the message relayed.
His transport was right where he’d left it, with the packs of food attached. He lead the construct back to the little family, and unpacked what would have been his lunch and dinner. “Here. It may not be what they’re used to, but it’s food. Hopefully, it’ll last until they can find their people.”
The woman looked grateful, if suspicious. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s right.” He gave the little girl a small smile, and she hid her face shyly against her mother’s shoulder. “And I have something that belongs to you, I think.” He produced the tattered doll, and the child’s dark eyes lit up with delight.
“She says thank you, Caleb.” The jackalope’s voice was fading, as if he could hardly catch his breath.
Caleb knew he had only moments left before Ernst had to end whatever it was that he was doing. “Travel at night if you can. And don’t fight them if they find you. Just disappear like before.” He looked at the boy. “You take care of your mother and sister, you hear?”
The child nodded, and Ernst gave a sad little moan, his doppelgänger disappearing like mist. Once more solid, the original Ernst flopped onto his side, his chest heaving. Caleb knelt to gather him into his arms, feeling how slight and frail he now felt.
The boy grew brave enough to move close, peering at the animal in Caleb’s arms and asking a question.
“I think he’ll be all right. He’s just very tired.” Caleb held very still, holding his arms out toward the boy. “You can touch him, if you like.”
After glancing at his mother once, the child extended a hand, stroking Ernst’s soft fur lightly. The exhausted familiar managed a tiny purr, only for a few seconds, but the young warrior was obviously entranced.
Caleb let both children pet the jackalope for a moment, knowing how much Ernst enjoyed it, then carefully deposited the animal on the back of the hauler. As Caleb swung into the saddle, the woman came to look up at him, questioning him again. Though he didn’t understand her, he could guess what she was asking.
“I’m going to see what they were looking for.” He pointed toward the mountains.
She nodded, and said something that had to be “Be careful.”
“I’ll try.” He gave a small smile and kicked the hauler into motion.
The small family disappeared in the tall grass behind them, and the mountains loomed large before him. Caleb glanced back once to check on Ernst and found the creature snoring softly. “You get some rest, buddy. Hopefully, I won’t need you anytime soon.”
Chapter 8
The afternoon was already waning by the time Caleb found the charred remnants of the Indian village. He’d have found it faster if he’d simply followed the memory from his dream, but he’d resisted, taking a few wrong turns along the way out of sheer stubbornness.
“What the hell am I doing here?” he wondered aloud, very aware that being in Indian territory, alone, near nightfall, was virtually suicidal. No doubt, had Ernst been awake, the familiar would have had some commentary on the subject, but he slumbered on, snoring faintly from time to time.
The village looked much like Caleb recalled it from his dream. The teepees had been reduced to lumps of blackened, charred leather, but were no longer smoldering. The bodies had been moved, arranged with dignity in low tree branches and wrapped in whatever cloth had been salvaged from the wrecked homes. The smell was pervasive, the sickly sweet odor of death and decay, and Caleb tried to breathe through the fabric of his shirt to keep the taste out of his mouth.
Beneath the reek of corrupted bodies and burned leather lingered the faint tang of ozone, the remnants of the magic that had been used here. It was more than the amount needed to fire augmented bullets. They’d used it to set fire to the teepees, to send bolts after fleeing victims. There were more than a few places where the soil had been melted into a slick, shiny surface, spider-webbed with cracks from the intense heat. They’d been frivolous with their power, the men who came here. Frivolous and arrogant.
For one split second, Caleb was certain he heard the whistle of descending cannon fire, the distant boom of a shell as it hit, the crack of rifles all around. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until the dizzying sensation went away.
“All right. What was so important that you had to destroy an entire village to get at it?” There was no doubt in his mind that the woman the child had seen had been Warner’s Mary Catherine. But what had she been looking for?
Caleb pressed his palm to the blackened earth. “Zoek.” Seek.
The area of the village proper was devoid of all life. Even the worms and grubs had deserted the scene of such carnage, driven from the place by the taint of so much magic. The tree roots were curled and blackened in their earthen beds; the smallest ones near the surface burned to ash. Only the oldest of the trees would survive in this location, the ancient roots sunk deep within the bedrock.
Almost directly below him, his sparks of power snuffed out abruptly, leaving a void that showed clearly where a vein of nullstone passed beneath this camp.
Caleb opened his eyes, frowning thoughtfully. Aside from the nullstone, he could sense nothing unusual within the earth, and even the nullstone was too far underground to be of any harm or use to anyone. There weren’t even any underground water sources nearby that might carry a taint down into the prairie.
“Maybe . . . the vein surfaces farther up the mountain?” He glanced at Ernst for the jackalope’s opinion, to find him still sound asleep. “Well, only one way to find out.”
He reached for the nullstone with the next seeking pulse, feeling along its edges, following its jagged path farther into the bedrock. It climbed, almost unbroken, higher into the foothills. It was never thicker than Caleb’s wrist, and though it was fractured in many places, it remained almost a solid line, pointing west.
Caleb continued the pulses, pushing higher and deeper, mapping the lay of the vein in his mind as surely as if he’d seen it himself. And just
when he was about to give it up as a lost cause, something pulsed back.
It was barely a brushing of power, more residual than directed, but Caleb’s eyes snapped open, and he yanked the rest of his scattered power back into himself. For a long moment he waited, senses alert to feel the first tickles of someone else’s power moving against him, but there was nothing. Perhaps his intrusion had gone unnoticed after all.
“Ernst. Ernst!” He shook the jackalope until the little creature opened one eye. “I’m leaving the hauler here. Can you keep up with me on foot?”
“Mmph. Heartless man.” The furry creature stretched and yawned, displaying a tiny pink tongue and rather vicious-looking sharp teeth. “I suppose I’ll have to. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”
Caleb eyed the darkening sky, painted in shades of purple toward the east where the sun had already bid the world good night. “I’m more worried about getting lost in the dark.”
“You could just wait until morning, you know.”
“No. There’s someone up there right now. I want to know who.”
The pair set out on foot, able at first to follow trails broken by the Indians and even game paths when the cut trails exhausted themselves. But ultimately, as the night settled in, Caleb was forced to light the end of his staff with a murmured licht just to keep from walking headlong into one of the many trees that clung tenaciously to the mountainside.
He kept the blue glow as small as he could, not wanting to alert anyone else of his approach, and it made for slow going in the thick underbrush and rough terrain.
Ahead of him, he could barely see Ernst dimly outlined in the light, and the little creature sat straight up, ears pricked and alert. “Ernst?”
“Shh! Listen!”
Caleb crouched next to his familiar, straining to hear what the small creature’s better ears had detected. For a long moment, there was nothing but the slightest of breezes, rustling the leaves around them. Not a bird sang; not an insect chirped. The forest was silent.
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