“The dog.” She nodded down at the thin mongrel, which wagged happily under their attention. “She showed up at the farm with a bit of Joe’s shirt tied around her collar. I knew then he was in trouble. I didn’t think—I didn’t know what it was. But if the gordath was open, then I knew it was bad.”
Joe, the other guardian. Crae recognized the name from the one she had whispered drowsily a year ago, under the influence of a pain draught for her broken arm and on the verge of sleep. She had come back, braved the gordath, for him. She frowned, looking at him.
“Crae, I don’t understand. If you are Lord of Trieve now, what are you doing on the outskirts of Red Gold Bridge looking for kidnapped guardians?”
Well, she was being led about by a dog, and he by a crow. Crae stopped worrying about being believed. “A crow made me a prophecy,” he said. “He told me that Aeritan was in great danger from Brythern and beyond. And so he led me here.”
She nodded. “Really skinny, wearing nothing but a tattered cloak?” At his look of astonishment, she said, “Yeah, he pointed me this way, too. He didn’t say anything about a prophecy. He didn’t say anything, actually.”
“You saw him? He was here?” And he hasn’t shown himself to me in days. Perhaps some of his annoyance showed in his expression, because she looked a little puzzled.
“It must be another gordath,” she said. “The Brytherners must have kidnapped the guardians because they want to control a gordath. And something’s coming through it . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Still annoyed, he said, “Well, it’s good to know there’s truth to his words, I suppose.”
She grinned. “That’s something,” she agreed, and just like that, they were comrades again, as they had been last year. He had missed her sudden smiles. “There’s something else, too,” she added. “A—spark. I can see it when I close my eyes. It’s like a line leading me.”
He hadn’t seen any spark, but the sign was the clearest he’d ever tracked, and he wondered if that were somehow akin to her spark. “I’ve just been tracking. You, mostly,” he added wryly. She gave a reluctant smile back.
“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s go.” She whistled for her dog, and the animal took point. Crae fell in behind her, watching her ride. She rode as elegantly as always, one hand down by her side and her body moving fluidly to the horse’s flat-footed walk. It was as if she were the daughter of the horse god.
He knew that despite what she had said, if he kissed her again, she would kiss him back. They might even lie together, even though he would be breaking his vow to Jessamy, and Lynna would be breaking her handfasting to her guardian. They were neither of them free, and somehow that made them both free.
And then what? He had another glimpse of that other life, this time fleeing with Lynna, catching a river ship and sailing out for other countries, but their love would sink under their shame and guilt. They would cling to each other till their love dried up, and finally part in bitterness and rue. Cruel is the grass god’s daughter, he thought, to give love where it could not be kept.
“He’s going to have us open it for good today,” Joe said, bending down to pull on his boots. They had been woken out of their light sleep a few minutes earlier. After quizzing them on the state of the gordath, Hare ordered them to be given a good breakfast, as if that would somehow help. Joe wondered if it weren’t more like a condemned man’s last meal.
Arrim laced up his thick and awkward boots, hiding his words, as Joe had, by bending down. “I think you’re right, Guardian. Will you follow my lead?”
He didn’t have much choice. He was out of ideas. He had bought them time and a relief from the physical abuse, but now they had to put up or shut up. If Hare wanted them to open the gordath, there was little they could do to stop it.
“What do you have in mind?” Joe said.
“Guardians!” Hare called to them.
Joe glanced at Arrim, who stood slowly. Arrim gave him a look that said, Follow me. He got up and let Arrim lead them over to Hare.
“Today’s the day that you open the gordath and hold it open. You’ve quieted it as you said, and you’ve gotten it under control. Now it’s time to reopen it.” Hare paused, cocking his head to look at them. He had his hands behind his back, and he looked relaxed, as if he were addressing friends, but his men ranged themselves behind them. “I let you rest and restore yourselves, because you convinced me that you needed all your strength. But you are still captives, and you are still under my control. Remember, if you can’t—or won’t—control the gordath, you are useless to me. You may pray to your gods, forest or otherwise, that you continue to be useful.”
Joe nodded judiciously. “Nice speech. You sure do know how to keep morale up.”
Hare rolled his eyes and made a face. “Open it. Keep it open.”
They were left to stand apart in the clearing, the others moving back. Joe heard a few swords scrape out of their scabbards and someone load a crossbow. Yeah, they weren’t going to be able to get out of this one.
“So what was your plan?” he said under his breath to Arrim.
“Do as he says, and fail if we must,” Arrim said. “But if it looks as if the gordath is out of control, then we let it rampage. With luck it will kill Hare and his schemes as well.”
Joe fought for control of his voice. “Jesus, Arrim,” he managed finally. “It’ll kill us, too. And if it stays open, and we’re dead, who’s going to close it?”
Arrim grinned, but it didn’t look like he was laughing. “Who wants to live forever?”
Me. “Arrim, don’t do this,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Guardians,” Hare said in a warning voice. “I grow impatient.”
So here it was. Joe would have to control the gordath on his own, and at a certain point Arrim would be trying to goose it wide open.
“Don’t do this,” he said again. “Don’t try to push it out of control.”
“You said you would follow my lead.”
“That was before I found out you were crazy!”
“Guardians!” Hare said again.
The crack of a gunshot sang out through the woods.
Joe threw himself to the ground. Hare’s lost it. He’s finally lost it, and he’s shooting at us.
The Brythern men exploded into shouting chaos. He could hear the twang of crossbow shots, Hare shouting orders to get into position. Joe rolled behind a tree and flattened himself, trying to make sense of everything. The shot had come from the woods. Was it the cavalry come at last? Had Captain Tal finally found them?
The woods quieted. He took a risk and peeked out. Men had found cover, and the clearing was mostly empty.
Hare shouted, “Show yourself! Who are you?”
“Back off, Brytherners, or the next one goes through your lord,” a strange voice shouted from the woods.
Hare looked puzzled. “I know your voice, Aeritan,” he said at last. “I know you. Name yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter, Brythern lord. Throw down your weapons, or we’ll pick you off one by one.”
Joe could see Brythern soldiers fading back into the woods toward the voice. The forest might be sparse here, but cover wasn’t completely thin. He hoped his rescuer had plenty of company and a lot more guns.
Just then, to his dismay, he felt a familiar sensation, a kind of crawling inside his brain.
No no no. The gordath was opening, only he hadn’t had anything to do with it. He looked around for Arrim. The guardian had found another tree and had pressed himself behind it, but his eyes were open and his hands were outstretched. He was opening the gordath. Oh shit, Arrim, no. The gordath shivered inside Joe, humming along to his heartbeat and the air that bellowed in his lungs. It pulsed inside his head and opened up in a flare of blinding light.
Marthen had trouble holding on to the girl. She wasn’t completely unconscious, but she couldn’t hold herself upright. He had her snugged in front of him, her hands lashed to the D rings on the front of t
he saddle, and he kept her secured by his sound arm for good measure. His other hand, blood dripping down from the shoulder wound where she had winged him, held the reins. They kept slipping from his bloody fingers. The rifle was slung across his back.
He had them up on the back of the stolid bay gelding, the flighty mare led by the rein. She was a bitch. She bucked and squealed and pulled against the rein, and he wished bitterly he had shot the mare and kept the other gelding, but it was too late now. She finally settled down as he kept them at a fast trot up the hill, past the muttering rock that hulked in the darkness, and down toward the gordath that he knew was there.
Kate began to recover, thrashing, but she couldn’t loosen her bonds. He tightened his grip. If she kept struggling she could bring down the horse.
“Give me any more trouble, and I will throttle you again,” he said in her ear. To emphasize his threat, he brought up his arm around her throat, and instinctively she began to fight it, but she managed to calm herself, sobbing a little. He released her only slightly. He thought she might be exhausted and cowed, finally, and felt a pinprick of relief. It was better this way. Soldier’s god knew, he didn’t have time for her to fight him all the way to Aeritan.
“When we cross the gordath, you may ride alone,” he said, a promise to lift her spirits. They were almost through. His men should be waiting for him at the entrance. It was a small enough army, but it was all he needed to take down the Council.
He could feel it now, the strange humming in his heart and head that signified the opening. The ground trembled a little, and the gelding snorted and shied, and the mare squealed. He kicked the horse harder.
He could see flashlights up ahead, the clear cold burning torches people used here. Better than fire, they gave off a more efficient light, and they could be extinguished in an instant. Marthen trotted into camp and pulled up the horses as his men surrounded him, armed with the weapons from the crate.
“It’s the boss!” someone called out. They kept their flashlights low, but he could see their expressions as they took in the horses and the girl.
“Follow me,” he said. “Look sharp. Fire on any pursuers.”
“Wait—what about Chris and Sonny?” someone asked.
For a second his world reeled. These men weren’t crows. They had names; they had lives. Yes, they were destitute, but not mad. This is not Aeritan. They are not crows. Maybe it was the pain from his wound, but Marthen’s head cleared for the first time in months. What was he doing, leading these men, stealing this girl? He had never been a good man, but this was folly.
Stop this, he thought, and he opened his mouth to dismiss them all. Then he heard faint laughter and shook his head to clear it. When he looked at them again, they were still watching him, their expressions puzzled and alarmed. The feeling of clarity faded as if it had never been.
“They are dead,” he said, and his voice was harsh. “Let’s go.”
He had suffered momentary madness, he told himself, as he pushed the horses forward. That’s all it had been.
The ground trembled underneath them, and then shook hard. Then light flared up around them and he, the girl, and his men burst through into daylight.
Joe peered through the black-limned opening that hung in front of them, its edges bleeding into the reality of the woods. The blackness focused, and he could see another forest, in darkness now, full of men on the other side. For a moment he thought he looked into a mirror, but these men were not Brythern soldiers. They were dressed like him, and they carried some serious weaponry, and behind them came two horses and one, no two, riders.
He was conscious of Hare and his men falling back.
The earth shook again, and he stumbled, and at his loss of balance the gordath jerked wider.
The men started coming through. Hare didn’t wait. “Fire!” he shouted, and the crossbowmen set to work, firing their crossbows at this new army, who fired back, the gunshots rolling over the crossbows. Hare’s men fell, and the army burst through.
The opening shuddered, and the gordath cranked wider. Then another earthquake hit the forest, and Joe lost his balance. The hole was growing, eating at the edges of the world. This was not the portal that gently gathered in wayward travelers. This was the gordath that he remembered from last winter. This gordath was full-bore, cutting open a direct hole between worlds. The newcomers came through just in time, Joe thought dazedly. Sure enough, one of Hare’s soldiers screamed as he was caught in it, and he toppled in. Joe struggled for control, but the gordath had taken over his heart and his breathing now, speeding them up until he knew he was going to pass out. They were done for. Arrim’s plan to take everyone out was going to work, and there would be another cataclysm for Brythern’s history.
His vision turned black, and he fell to his knees. Shhh, he could hear his abuela say in his head. Shhh, go to sleep, little Joe, go to sleep, let yourself sleep. He could hear her little breathy lullaby and the Spanish words he had never bothered to learn. His breathing slowed, and his heartbeat slowed, and he knew he couldn’t fight it anymore. Okay, grandma, he thought. Okay. As he slackened his grip both on the gordath and on consciousness, the last thing he thought was that the gordath had loosened its grip on him.
From her vantage point above the clearing, Lynn watched Joe fall. The gordath hung over him, a growing menace. He would be consumed like the man who had fallen into the emptiness. She began to slide down the ridge toward him. Crae yanked her back by the back of her shirt.
“No!” he shouted. She fought him, furious, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’m not letting him die.”
“What good can you do him if you get pulled in with him?” Crae went back up to the horses, scrambling for balance as the earth shook, and grabbed his pack. He dumped out his supplies, grabbing the thin rope he used to hobble his horse at night. He tied one end to a tree and tugged it, testing its strength. It held.
“All right,” he said. He braced himself. “I’ll get him. You cover me.”
She tightened her grip on the handgun and watched him slide down the rope toward Joe. The entire clearing was chaos. Two men had fallen in the gordath, or been pulled in, and the Brytherners had scattered but were regrouping. There was a horseman, struggling to control two mounts and hold on to someone riding double in front of him.
Hey. That’s Allegra. And my Hotshot.
Gunfire came through the gordath, and the Brytherners that had been firing their crossbows dove for cover. Hare caught sight of Crae’s rescue attempt and brought up his gun, but Lynn aimed, took a deep breath, and fired. The shot went wide, but it got their attention. Hare stumbled back, ducking for a tree trunk.
She made herself calm down and aim for Hare’s shoulder and side, all she could see of him through the trees. She prepared to squeeze the trigger when an arm came around her neck, hauling her backward. Lynn’s scream was choked off, and she struggled against her attacker. The gun was plucked from her hand, and an unwelcome voice said in her ear,
“Hey, babe. Long time no see.”
Mark.
Seventeen
Colar came upon the gordath just as Marthen and his men disappeared into it. He ran harder and dove through after them, disoriented by the rush of daylight he suddenly dropped into.
He landed in the middle of a war. Marthen’s men faced off against a squad of Brytherners. Marthen was off to the side, holding Kate in the saddle in front of him. She jerked her hands, but she was tied to the saddle. Hotshot reared and backed up, and Allegra just bucked wildly at the end of her reins.
Colar ducked behind some brush. It was hard to make sense of everything, what with the ground shaking and the empty hole of the gordath behind him growing and contracting like a bellows, its edges wavering. It made him dizzy to look back at it. He grimaced, drew his sword, and wished he had a crossbow. Marthen would be an easy shot from behind.
He watched as a man fell into the gordath and disappeared, his scream choked off. Colar felt a little
sick. He had just come through the portal, but he didn’t think anyone would be getting back that way. If you tried to go through the gordath now, it didn’t look as if you would get anywhere.
First things first, he told himself. He had to get Kate away from Marthen.
The Brytherners had received the worst of the attack, but they had taken cover and were regrouping under their orders. Whoever their officer was, he knew what he was about. Colar admired the way they regathered, taking careful shots and maintaining their cover. Marthen’s ragtag handful of men were disoriented from their passage through the gordath. Here in the daylight they were not fearsome crows, despite their rifles. They were going to be easy targets for a disciplined fighting force.
“Retreat!” Marthen shouted, but they didn’t know where to go. Two made to go back through the gordath but were immediately swallowed up. The men’s screams were cut off as if they had never existed at all, and a shiver ran down Colar’s spine.
The Brytherners laid down another rain of crossbow fire, and more men fell.
Colar watched the general cut his losses. He cuffed Kate hard to keep her from struggling, dropped Allegra’s rein, leaving the mare behind, and kicked Hotshot into a gallop, away from the furious gun battle.
“Lower your sword!” someone shouted. He looked up at a Brythern soldier, who had him covered with a crossbow.
Mark hauled Lynn down into the clearing, keeping her arm pushed up behind her back. She bit back her pain, but she couldn’t control her despair. We lost, she thought. If the gordath doesn’t kill us all, Mark and Hare will.
The gordath hung before them, an eerie sight, and the earth shook violently. Joe and the other guardian lay unmoving, and dead men and wounded men were scattered all around.
“Take them,” Hare ordered, and the rest of his men went about making prisoners of the confused homeless men, taking up their weapons and binding their hands. They had taken Crae, too, and surrounded him, several swords at his throat. They tried to disarm Colar, but the boy resisted.
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