Greystone rolled his eyes. “Oh, by all means. Let us do all we can to spare your families’ feelings.”
I smirked, but everyone else’s faces grew cold.
“It goes beyond that,” Sarah said testily. “If we are asleep at all odd hours of the day, how do you think we’ll survive over there? We’re almost finished with school. After that we have to go out in the world and survive on our own. Get jobs. Make a life for ourself. If we don’t, we starve in the streets. How helpful will we be then?”
Greystone looked like he wanted to say something about that, but he held his peace. I was glad. I wanted to talk about the prophecy as badly as anyone.
“Hey, this is all interesting,” I said, boredom in my voice. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like the oracle telling us that somebody’s going to die.”
Greystone’s eyes widened at that. “What?” he snapped. “What did she say?”
“She said one of us had to die,” Calvin said. “And a bunch of other stuff.”
“What did she say exactly?” Greystone demanded. “Give me the words.”
I snorted. “What, you think we can remember what she said? We only heard them once, and she was talking all weird.”
“Can’t you?” asked Cara suddenly, butting into the conversation. “I have been able to think of nothing else.”
Sarah looked at her in surprise, but she nodded. “Me, too. It’s like the words are burned in my mind. I couldn’t forget them if I tried.”
Calvin nodded. I looked at them like they’d gone nuts. Then, on impulse, I thought about it.
You seek to know the voice of fate, and yet you fear to ask
I didn’t even realize I was saying the words out loud until Greystone’s eyes met mine and he smiled.
“Aurora’s words are carefully chosen, well spoken, and not soon forgotten,” said Greystone. His expression was smug. “Come. Let us have all of it.”
I looked around, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Me? Why me? If you guys can remember it, too — ”
“Because it amuses me,” said Greystone. “Continue.”
I sighed and began to say the words. As they came out, they turned into a sort of chant.
You seek to know the voice of fate, and yet you fear to ask
For destiny can be deceiving once you move the mask
Two roads, two paths, two ways to go, for you and those who join
Your destiny may come or go, two faces to a coin
Two roads you face and neither simple, both with death and pain
The first sees Chaos as the victor, brings the Shadow reign
The second path is what you seek, for in it there is life
And yet it comes at mighty cost, a way of pain and strife
One shall live to see old age, a long life full of beauty
One shall fight a thousand years and never fail their duty
One shall rule a kingdom well, broad the lands at their behest
One shall seem to be struck down, then rise above the rest
One shall turn upon you all when counted on and needed
One shall leave this life for death if Shadow be defeated
Walk the road and seek to mend the friendship that was broken
East and West to North and South before two Frosts have spoken
Where were six there now are four, each needing one another
Join the Earth to sister Sky, and Water with its brother
As the last word fell from my lips, echoing strangely in the small room, the air drifted to silence.
“It’s the one will leave this life for death part that has them concerned,” Calvin said by way of clarification.
I looked at Greystone. To my surprise, his old, weathered, sun-beaten face had blanched. Both hands, the one on his staff and the one on the table before him, were clenched so hard that the knuckles were white.
“You all right, grandpa?” I asked hesitantly. “You aren’t about to keel over, are you?”
“Mend the friendship that was broken,” Greystone replied, ignoring my question. “You are certain she said those words?”
I frowned. “Yeah.”
His eyes narrowed.
“He’s right,” said Tess, looking nervously up at Greystone. “I remember that, too.” Everyone else at the table nodded to support her.
“And joining Earth to sister Sky? Water with its brother? This, too, you are certain of?” Greystone said urgently.
“Greystone, that’s exactly what she said,” said Sarah firmly. “We all heard it. He didn’t miss one word.”
Greystone shot her a glance. “Very well. You will forgive me for being dubious of Lord Blade in particular.”
“Hey!” I said in protest. “I’m right here!”
“But are we right about the other part?” asked Raven, leaning over the table intently. “Is one of us going to die?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
Greystone looked morosely down into his lap. I barely heard him mutter, “All these years. So long.”
“Hey!” I said, snapping my fingers to catch his eye. “She said we’re going to die, gramps! Can we focus here and figure out what to do about that?”
Greystone looked up at me, and his eyes were suddenly heavy with worry. “Nothing,” he said, quieter than Tess. “You can do nothing.” His voice regained some of its strength. “Not that it is of any great concern. If I am right, which I almost certainly am, you all have far greater things to worry about than death.”
Miles gaped. “Oh,” he said weakly. “Great. Thanks. I guess?”
“Please, Greystone,” Sarah pressed. “Tell us. What’s going on?”
Greystone shook his head. “The arrow fired without deliberation may sway from foe to strike friend. Doubly so for words. I hope that I am wrong, though my heart warns me I am not. Before I will speak of this further, I must consult the ancient texts. Words that are millennia older than I am. I will not set us on this course unless I know there is no other choice.”
Raven threw her hands up. “Well then, what the heck are we supposed to do?” she cried. “Sit on our hands while you go visit the local library?”
Darren leaned in, nodding deferentially to Greystone. “Watcher,” he said, clearly anxious about his interruption. “May I?”
Greystone looked at him, a spark of curiosity shining through a sudden crack in his mask of concern. “Speak, Sir Darren.”
Darren nodded, but he still had to look around the table and lick his lips nervously before he seemed to get the courage to talk. “The oracle also revealed to us the location of one of the tombs,” he said. “Faya, she said. I know not of the place, but should we not be turning our thoughts and actions that way?”
Greystone’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I believe that would be best.”
“I know of Faya,” said Samuel beside me. “It is a grim city. Little more than a fortress, really. The men there are tall, dark and generally unsmiling. Less so for the womenfolk, but even so it can be harder than you’d think to — ” He seemed to realize where he was, and he suddenly cleared his throat with an uneasy look at Calvin and Tess. “Regardless, I know of no tomb there. Certainly nothing like the Tomb of Malus. And I know of no stone circles, such as rested above the Tomb of Jada.”
“Likely you would not,” Greystone said. “Though their reasons are lost in the dust of ancient tomes, it seems clear that others have gone to great lengths to hide the resting places of the Six.”
Sarah looked back and forth between the two of them. “Where is this place? Is it inside of Athorn?”
Samuel snorted. “Of course not. Nothing in our lives seems destined to be that simple.” Cara sent him a sudden, withering glare, and once again he cleared his throat and spoke more respectfully. “Faya is not of Athorn. Their Baron swears no loyalty to any kingdom, though he has fought on many sides in many wars. The best that can be said of Faya is that they had a fair trade with Morrowdust, though that has dried up with the coming of war.
”
“What did they trade?” I asked, interested despite myself. It was probably because of Samuel, rather than the city itself. We’d gotten to be buddies, sort of. But when we talked, it was mostly about guy stuff. I’d never heard him speak this way, like he was a calm, casual soldier plotting strategy rather than just some dude hanging out.
“Weapons,” replied Samuel. “Weapons and armor. Strong pieces, too. But as I’ve said, none since the war began. Some say it’s because the trade routes have grown too dangerous, what with Shadows roaming freely along the roads.” The corner of his mouth twisted, as though he was holding something back. I took note of it to ask him about later.
Greystone nodded. “Your words ring true, Samuel. I have had a few dealings in Faya. It is a grim place, indeed. If we approach them, we should approach with caution until we are certain of their standing in the war.”
“So we’re going after the tombs?” Calvin asked, disapproval plain in his voice. “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what Aurora told us to do. She said it was a waste of time. She threw us Faya like throwing a dog a bone.”
Sarah looked troubled. “That’s true, but I can’t shake the feeling that the tombs are important. If Terrence wants them so badly…”
“She is right,” said Greystone. “The prophecy will come in its own time. Prophecy usually does. But we cannot pass up the chance to foil Terrence in this. If we can withhold even one of the artifacts he seeks, it may be enough to prevent his purpose entirely.”
I looked at Greystone, a little uneasy. There was more to it than Greystone was saying, and I thought I knew what it was. But I hesitated. For all the joshing we gave each other, I kind of liked the old guy. I didn’t want to insult him, or make him think I didn’t trust him.
Still, I thought. When have you ever kept your mouth shut before?
“Are you sure you aren’t just saying that because of how ticked you are at Terrence?” I asked, careful to keep any flip out of my voice. It was about five times the respect I’d ever shown to my own dad.
It wasn’t enough. Greystone glared at me balefully. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
“Look, man, we all know you’ve got a major beef with Terrence,” I said, looking around at the others. “And none of us blame you. But are we trying to stop his plan because we think the prophecy can wait, or because you want to do something to hurt him? Because one of those is a good reason for doing something, and one isn’t. I — ” I stopped myself a half-second from saying I would know. I tried to save it with barely a stumble. “I just think we should think about it,” I finished lamely.
Greystone stood, looking not even slightly appeased. “I have held to my duty for over nine hundred years,” he said icily. “And I will not stray for it because of petty emotions. Not only can the prophecy wait, the prophecy will wait whether we will or we nil. I will not rush to act upon it without preparation.”
I held up my hands in defense. “All right, man. You’re the boss.”
Sarah nodded as though coming to a decision. “All right, then. We go to Faya first, find the tomb. After that, we figure out what to do about the prophecy. Agreed?”
She looked around the table, got nods from all of us. The Runegard, of course, said nothing.
“Great,” I said, wishing that the decision had cleared away the sense of impending doom. It hadn’t.
BLADE
I WOKE UP ON THE floor of Calvin’s room the next morning.
I’d thought the hardwood floor, plus a lack of any kind of real cushioning, would turn into one heck of a sore back. So it was a pleasant surprise when I woke up feeling as alert and refreshed as I could remember feeling in years. My body was sore in a couple of places, but that was from the couple of smacks I’d gotten the day before, and nothing to do with where I was sleeping.
Calvin ran by in the hallway. He noticed I was awake and slid to a halt, popping his head in through the door.
“Shower’s open,” he said. “There’s a cabinet in there with guest towels. Help yourself.” He disappeared, then reappeared for a brief moment. “And by the way — don’t use the loofah.”
I blinked more sleep away from my eyes and stared at him, my sleep-soaked brain still struggling to comprehend. “What the heck is that, and why would I use it?”
Calvin’s eyes grew dark. “Bro, just trust me,” he said. “Don’t.”
Then he was gone. I shook my head again and got up. He hadn’t actually told me where the bathroom was, so I had to search down the hallway a bit before I found it.
I took a shower. It was the first long, hot shower in a clean bathroom I’d had in years. There were at least five kinds of soap and three kinds of shampoo. I left the conditioner untouched. There was some kind of spongy cloth thingy that made cleaning myself off incredibly easy.
“I could get used to this,” I muttered as the hot water washed away the tension from my shoulders. Of course, I never would. This kind of life was for other people. Happy people in happy families.
I got out and dried myself off, inspecting my bruises in the mirror. The one on my cheek was already drifting toward yellow, which meant it would be going away before too long. There was another bruise on my right elbow where it had struck the arm of my couch a little too hard. I prodded it, and the blue turned white. It stayed that way for a while after my finger came off. That one would take longer.
Shrugging, I shucked back on the same clothes from yesterday and booked it for the front of the house. I figured I’d let myself out quietly and without any fuss — I didn’t want anyone to have to say any awkward good-byes or fake a sincere invitation to return. Just as I hopped off the last stair and was about to hit the front door, I heard Calvin’s voice from the kitchen.
“No, but he has his keys, that’s the thing.”
The kitchen door was right there, allowing me to see Calvin and his mom. The two of them looked up as they fell suddenly silent.
Right before the moment could go awkward, Calvin’s mom smiled and said, “I made breakfast.” She waved me in and pointed to the stove. A plate sat there, covered with tin foil to keep it warm.
I looked at the door. Looked at the plate.
Well, no harm in getting a little breakfast, even though it would be my first one in years.
“Thanks,” I replied. I picked up the plate and pulled off the tin foil. I stopped myself just before I crumpled the foil up and dropped it on the floor. Instead I found the trash can and dropped it inside.
On the plate were three pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Unless you counted Denny’s, I hadn’t had a breakfast like that in seven years. I don’t think I’d had scrambled eggs at home since my mom had left. I sat down at the table next to Calvin, who ate silently and kept glancing up at me. He seemed nervous. It almost made me smile. I had a reputation with kids like Calvin, a well-groomed reputation that it had taken me months to perfect. But just because I knew how to throw a punch, didn’t mean I was going to be rude to someone’s mom who just made me a meal. That, apparently, was what Calvin was expecting.
Meanwhile, I noticed his mom stealing glances at me, too. Odd, since she had no reason to be nervous around me. Then I realized she wasn’t looking at me out of anxiety, but out of concern. Her eyes kept drifting to my left cheek, where I felt my bruise going darker and darker. It dampened my mood a bit, her sitting there, no doubt wondering what had happened. But thankfully she kept it to herself.
“Would you like some orange juice, Winston?” asked Calvin’s mom.
Calvin’s eyes went wide as he choked, his involuntary gasp of breath sucking some egg into his windpipe. He began coughing wildly, trying to clear his air passage. “Mom!” he managed to stammer.
“What?” she said, standing with a glass pitcher of juice and a look of confusion.
“He goes by Blade,” Calvin wheezed. “Not…not that.”
I would have smirked if Calvin’s mom hadn’t been right there. It was true. I had a little bit of a rep
utation at my school. See, I’d been told growing up that my dad had picked the name Winston. So naturally, I hated it. I’d decided on Blade when I was fourteen and just big enough to kick the tar out of anyone who tried to give me grief about it. Calvin had never received the harsh end of that particular beating, but clearly he’d heard stories.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Calvin’s mom, completely undisturbed by the nickname. “I only heard your name at the hospital.”
“It’s totally fine, Mrs. Wells,” I said, waving it off. “I’d love some juice. Thanks.” I held up my glass and let her fill it, feeling Calvin’s shocked expression boring into the side of my face.
I took a swig, thanked her again, and kept eating. Mrs. Wells sat at the table to my left. She didn’t say anything, but I got the vibe that she wanted to. It’s one of those things you learn how to pick up when your dad tends to sit there, simmering about something until he snaps.
“So,” she said finally, breaking the silence. “When will the extermination be over?”
I blinked, utterly lost. Calvin quickly swallowed his bite of bacon and said, “Didn’t you say a couple of days, Blade?”
I stared at him, not picking it up. “What?”
“The exterminators. The tent, the bug bomb.” Calvin waved vaguely in the air. “Didn’t you say they’d be done in, like, a couple of days?”
I nodded, the picture finally clicking into place. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, I’m not so good in the mornings. At least not until I’ve had my coffee.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you took it,” Calvin’s mom said, standing up quickly. “Here, let me put on a pot.”
I jumped to my own feet, waving her back down. “Oh, it’s no problem, Mrs. W. I can do it.”
She smiled and sat back down. “Okay, sure. Grinder’s behind the pot, and beans are — ”
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