It was as silent as before, the still-long shadows concealing most of the rock except for a slice of sunlight passing over it. The dog whined and pressed against Lynn’s legs. She patted it and clucked to the horse. When they got close, she put her hand on the cool, rough rock.
Just like the last time, energy zipped in a straight line, and she jerked her head up to follow it. As if she could see the underground pulse, she saw where it led: away from the trail, away from the old Gordath Wood, and far deeper into these woods. Along that line was a new gordath, she thought. Go that way, and find a new way into Aeritan. Or . . . somewhere.
Out of habit she checked the saddle girth and then turned to the dog. She fished out the piece of Joe’s T-shirt from her pocket and knelt and held it to the dog. The dog nosed it and whined, and its tail tucked under its legs. Lynn patted the dog.
“Show me,” she told it. “Just show me.”
She mounted up and headed along the line. The dog trotted in front now, occasionally looking back at her. Once it gave a low woof, the first she had heard, when they fell behind. There was even a faint trail, though it was probably a game trail. For now, though, it led in the direction she wanted. She thought she could even feel the energy line zip under Red Bird’s hooves. The horse tossed his head and snorted but kept up a long, loose stride. As they headed deep into the heart of the forest, the trail taking them downward where the sunrise had not yet reached, Lynn refrained from looking back. She was not sure she wanted to see the morrim disappear from sight, either because she descended or because she rode from one world to the other.
The last time she did this it was dark, and she rode Dungiven straight through a three-rail fence. She hoped this time worked a little better. She pressed her heels against Red Bird’s sides, and the horse broke into a flat-footed walk, a smooth, comfortable gait that could carry them for miles. Lynn settled into the saddle, one hand light on the reins, the other down at her side.
It occurred to her that if it didn’t work and she ended up out at the highway, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do. She had better not think on that, though. It had to work. With the amount of blood on the T-shirt, Joe’s life might depend on it.
Lord Favor lay in the guest bedchamber, his body washed and scented candles and clean straw surrounding him. Offerings to the grass god, the god of death and renewal, were piled at his feet. Crae stood next to Jessamy as she offered prayers to the high god for her brother. She was still pale with horror and woe, her tears for her brother mixed with her worries for her daughter, her anger at Crae, and her unrelenting shock.
Tevani had regained consciousness but didn’t remember a thing of what happened. She lay in her small bed, querulous and crying. Jessamy was at her side as much as she could be. The little girl was confused, thinking she had gotten injured by the crows during her and Crae’s adventure. It took hard work from everyone to keep her still and quiet so she could heal.
Jessamy began crying again, quietly. “He was my brother,” she whispered brokenly. “He was my brother.”
He was a fool, a tyrant, and a petty bully who had struck out without thinking and almost killed her daughter. But he was her brother, and he had been Crae’s brother. Crae felt a muscle jump in his cheek.
And now the Council would take sides. Crae saw it all in his mind’s eye, the march to war again. Any of the allies they had counted on just days before were as dust. The Council would turn on him as easily as they had granted him a lordship.
He thought he had been Trieve’s savior. He had promised Stavin he would protect Jessamy and his children. Instead, he brought doom upon them. He had become bad luck to all he touched. To Stavin, to Jessamy, to small Tevani, even to a hapless crow. It were best he become crow himself and outlaw, destined to wander ragged and alone. He had broken Council law, first by daring to presume the high god had touched him, and then to commit a brother killing.
Favor had wanted to see him brought down and broken, and in his death he got his wish. Crae would be broken.
He would send them all away. Jessamy and the children would go to her House with the body of her brother. He would remain and await his fate. Crae turned to tell her this when she crumpled up at the side of the bed, one hand clasping her brother’s cold one. She whispered to her brother, telling him private things only a sister could say. “I loved you even when we fought,” she told him. “You were my brother. I protected and scolded you, and now you’re gone. Please, Jori, please forgive me. I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry.”
Stricken, Crae felt the blood rush from his face. The angry buzzing that nagged at him ever since he committed murder heightened its pitch. He stepped backward, away from her and her blame, and felt awkwardly for the door. He stumbled down the stairs.
No one looked at him. No one spoke to him. He could barely see; he had gone blind, his vision dark. All of the householders fled at his approach, and he staggered to the kitchen, his first thought only for strong drink.
He pushed through the door and stopped dead. There was the place where Favor had fallen, the flagstones whiter where they had been scrubbed and scrubbed of blood. It was a telltale of his guilt. Bile rose in his throat, and he swung away, outside.
Even the clear, cold air did not relieve him. The pressure mounting in his head, Crae found his way to the stable. He couldn’t trust himself to tack up his horse, so he looked around. He saw one of his men, standing hesitantly, waiting for orders. Crae did not recognize him.
“Get my horse,” he ordered. His voice rasped, harsh and implacable.
The man bowed and said hurriedly, “Yes, my lord Crae.”
He waited until they brought Hero to him, the horse playing up and snorting. It took Crae four or five tries to get his foot into the stirrup, and he swung aboard clumsily. Hero neighed and backed nervously. Crae spurred him forward, punishing him with his hands and his boots. The horse bolted, men scattering out of his way, pulling the barn door open just in time. Crae managed to duck under the lintel, and they burst through.
He didn’t ride down the terraces. Instead, he reined his horse out and around to the fields. The sheep baaed and scattered, the dogs barked, and the shepherds shouted, but soon they were through, galloping up the grassy hill toward the endless sky. Here and there rocks dotted the hillside, as if they had been sheep turned to stone by a playful sky god. Hero bolted straight out, mane and tail flying. Crae kept him moving with his hands and feet, and when the horse flagged, he kicked him hard again. Up they galloped until they reached the top of the hill.
He pulled the horse up, and Hero snorted and reared. Above them the sky arched deep and blue, a few clouds dotting the expanse. Far below them Trieve spread out, the great house and the outbuildings looking small from his vantage point at the top of the mountain. Crae looked down. The baaing of the sheep reached him faintly, but the only other sounds were those nearer to hand: Hero’s deep breathing, the piping of a mountain bird, the wind.
His tears.
He gave a great cry. He fell rather than dismounted and tumbled to his knees, his grief like pain, panting and heaving in his tears. He had lost everything. Jessamy, Tevani, even if she healed. He would have no son, no daughters. He had no House.
I am crow. I am crow. I am crow.
When he came back to himself, he lay on the hillside, the grasses warm against his back, looking up at the sky. It had gathered more clouds, and the sun played chase among them. Even as he watched, a shadow raced across the fields, bending the grasses before it. A chill swept over Crae. Nearby, Hero cropped grass, his reins trailing carelessly around his feet. Once he would never have left a horse like that, where he could step into his reins. Habit forced him to his feet to take care of his horse, and the animal nickered at him, nudging him and forgiving him for his temper earlier.
In his great unrest he had not realized where he was; they had buried the young crow up here. The cairn, a pile of rocks stacked neatly together, hulked a few feet away. The crow’s grav
e was silent and at peace. The sun went behind the clouds, and the wind picked up.
The high god kept his silence, but Crae could hear the words of another behind the silence.
We kill and we ravage, and our god laughs.
This was crow land now, and by his murder he was the crow lord. The Aeritan Council’s retribution would be swift. Favor’s threat would come true, and no matter how he fought this time, Trieve would be broken, stone by stone.
He saw Jessamy off the next night, the better to travel in the cool of the darkness. They gathered at the bottom of the terraces, where the grooms brought down the two carriages, one to carry Lord Favor’s body and one to carry his sister and her children and servants. They harnessed the teams there. Lord Favor’s guard surrounded him, dark red sashes cutting across their chests, denoting a funeral train. Tevani was bundled into the carriage, wrapped in a warm cloak, and laid on a pallet of padding and pillows, the better to cushion her. Jessamy sat with Jori on her lap, her face still and white. She, too, wore a red sash, and her kerchief was tied precisely, not a hair peeking out from beneath the cloth. She was so still now, it stayed in place. She looked at Crae over the baby’s head, her expression somber and remote. Crae knew there would be no handclasp, no kiss, not even the kiss of lord to lady.
So be it. There was no comfort for a crow. He spoke coldly.
“It is best you return to your old House,” he said. “I do not expect to see you back here. I would advise you to petition the Council to dissolve our marriage.”
“You turn me away?” Her voice was dull. “Then there is no refuge for me or the children.”
“The House of your childhood is your only refuge now,” Crae said, lowering his voice so that Tevani would not hear. The little girl didn’t seem to be aware of anything except for her hands picking and picking at her blanket. Crae looked at Jessamy. They had fought—and then fought together. They had even taken their first steps toward love. He was crow now, and all that was over.
“Crae,” she said, and her voice broke. “Don’t do this. Don’t send us away.”
Didn’t she understand? “Jessamy, they will come and tear Trieve to pieces. You cannot stay. Besides—” He could not speak further. Besides, I killed him. I took up a sword and slew your brother.
She swallowed her tears and looked away. When she regained her composure, her voice was dull. “If you wish, it must be so, Lord Crae,” she said. She leaned forward. “I am ready. Take me home.”
He stepped back as the driver whistled up the team, and the horses threw their strength into the traces.
“Captain Crae! Captain Crae!” Tevani cried. Even the driver heard, and he pulled up with a whoa.
“Tevani, hush. You must lie still,” said Jessamy. But Crae walked a few paces and opened the door again. The little girl struggled against her wraps, and despite his coldness, his heart ached for her.
“Captain Crae, please take care of Hero for me,” she said.
“You must go now, Tevani. Be a good girl for your mother.”
Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry I made you hit me,” she whimpered.
Crae couldn’t breathe out enough to protest. Jessamy snapped, “Drive on, please!”
He watched them go, trundling into the night, Favor’s outriders led by Breyan.
Then he turned and headed back up the terraces, the torches guiding his way up the giant steps. This time there was no small army to prepare for war, no willing men to lead. He was alone against his enemies.
Colar knew they were on the wrong track as soon as they reached the old house at the end of Daw Road. Cicadas buzzed in the hot summer sun, and when they walked around the vacant house and entered the woods, the air was still and humid. The cicadas stopped their buzzing in alarm, and he could tell they were the only people there. Sweat trickled down the small of his back under his T-shirt, and he was thankful he had waited to put on his heavy armor. He hadn’t wanted to call attention to himself, and it looked like there was no need for it after all.
“I don’t understand,” Kate said, frustration in her voice as they stood by the three tall trees. “He has to be here. Where else can he be?”
They had been so sure they would find Marthen here, but the woods were abandoned, the house empty, the gateway between the worlds closed up tight, as if it had never existed at all. Colar scanned the ground, looking for any sign he could, and his heart leaped. He knelt.
“What! What is it?” She knelt next to him. He frowned.
“Someone was here not too long ago,” he said. He pointed out the footprint. “But it was only one person, and the print doesn’t look big enough.”
“Dammit,” Kate said. “We can’t just wait for him to come back to the house again.” Her voice held a strange note, and he looked at her as she gave a strange half laugh, half sob. “My mom and dad will ground us for life if they find out we went out looking for him.”
Sometimes Colar thought that her parents were more frightened of the truth coming out than about the danger. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t understand a lot about this world. Though it doesn’t matter, since I won’t be staying for much longer.
Although, with the gordath shut tight, perhaps that wasn’t true after all. He shook his head in frustration. Marthen had to have come through, and there should be some sign of it. So where was it?
Kate sighed and sat down against a tree, arms folded across her chest. She had ruined the footprint, but he supposed it didn’t matter since, whoever it was, it wasn’t their man. She looked up at him, her blue eyes clear and her expression worried. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and her hair gleamed, even in the dim forest light. His heart hammered. She’s my foster sister, he told himself, but he slid down next to her, letting his shoulder press against hers. She was muscular from riding, but she was soft, too. She moved uneasily, reddening. I shouldn’t have done that, he thought, but he didn’t move away.
“All right,” she said, her voice unsteady. “We have to think. Why isn’t he here?” She bit her lip, thinking. “When I saw him, it was closer to Connecticut and the highway. That’s like ten miles from here. If he came through the gordath, he’d have had to walk all that way.”
“Or get a ride.”
She shook her head. “Not with what he was wearing. No way would anyone pick him up. And he would have attracted a lot of attention.”
Colar nodded. From what little he knew of his new world, he could agree with that.
“And then there are his men,” he said, thoughtfully. “The police said they came from the highway, too.”
She was thinking furiously, he could tell. “What if there was another way through? Could there be another portal?”
Another way through the woods. Another path home. There can’t be, he thought first. How could there be? But it made sense that Marthen had come through near where Kate had first seen him. But where could the gordath hide itself? All he had seen were roads, houses, and stores. All the towns here bustled day and night, not like the small villages at Terrick’s outskirts. “Is there forest near there?” he asked dubiously.
Kate sucked in her breath, her eyes wide. “Yes. Oh my God. It’s all protected habitat, and it’s just a few miles from the highway. There’s old growth forest there, and there aren’t any houses or roads, just a hiking trail. There aren’t too many places you can hide a bunch of people in the woods around here, but in that forest, you totally could. That’s where we’ll find his army, and that’s where we’ll find the gordath. He’s there, Colar. He’s got to be.”
She jumped to her feet, and he followed suit. “Come on. We have to hurry.” She headed off, back to the old house and the dirt road where they had left the car, and he got up to follow her. He could see it falling into place. They couldn’t manage the army; there were just the two of them, and from what Maddy had said, there were about a dozen men in the ambush at the beach. The police could take care of the crows. He would take care of Marthen. Colar rubbed hi
s sword hand against the side of his jeans. He knew the general had a gun. He didn’t care. Ever since the eve of the final battle, when he found out what Marthen had done to Kate, he had wanted to face him down.
And then what? He knew enough that if he killed the general in this world, it would be murder. He could go to jail. No. He would have to go back to Aeritan. He glanced at Kate. She held onto his arm, still trying to tug him toward the Jeep. She had become doubtful now at his hesitation.
“What is it?” she said.
“I’ll fight him,” he said, and he could hear the anger in his own words. “But I can’t fight him here. It will have to be in Aeritan.”
Her face changed as she steeled herself. “I know,” she said. Her voice started out strong but broke at the end. “But I still don’t want you to go.”
He didn’t know how they ended up kissing, but they did. He pulled her close, and they kissed, making up for months, he thought dazedly, when they weren’t allowed to even think of each other except as brother and sister. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting more, wanting to set her down on the forest floor, but when he started to kneel them both back to earth, she made a noise of protest and pushed her hands against his chest. “No,” she said, pulling away from him. She was breathing hard. “You know we can’t.”
He was the son of a lord; he could do what he wished. He almost said that, but instead he stepped back. He held onto her hands, making sure she couldn’t go away. “You’re right,” he said. “Not now. But you can come with me, and I’ll petition my father. He’ll let us marry, I know he will. He’ll be so grateful he’ll give me anything.”
Red Gold Bridge Page 21