He twisted his head back and dug into his feathers again, shaking out a small cloud of dander. When he looked up, he added, “Besides, I did not leave my magic behind when I came here.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced myself to my feet, sure I would find something broken. I did not. However, every muscle in my body seemed to be sore or stretched in some impossible direction.
“I dreamed I saw my father.” I stretched up my arms. My fingertips brushed the cave’s cool, damp ceiling. “I dreamed he healed me.”
“Perhaps he did,” the bird said before going into another frenzy of dander expulsion. “In death, as in life, all things are possible.”
My stomach rumbled, and I gave thought to cooking the peacock if he offered one more erudite riddle.
By the Goddess. Bren would suggest something like roasting my peacock guide. When I gave him my magic, did I take some of his personality in return?
“I have no food to offer you, and I assure you, I would not provide much in terms of nutrition.” Egidus fanned his tail and shook the feathers, filling the cave’s still air with a loud buzzing. “It takes a certain combination to make this journey successful—a wise guide of a certain sort, a willing traveler pure of motive—if you eat me, you’ll likely never find your way to the gate alone. The harpies have taken themselves elsewhere for now. Shall we go?”
After stretching another few seconds, I nodded. “But where?”
“Up, my witch. Up, up, up!” The bird managed another smile of sorts. “By the time we finish the climb to the Glorieuse, you will wish for wings as splendid as mine.”
Days later, in the early evening, I not only wanted to cook the peacock, but I wished to leave his guts for the harpies to find. He hardly spoke to me at all, barely let us sleep a few hours at a time, stayed a few paces ahead, and kept that ridiculous blue head bobbing, bobbing, bobbing. His train spread along behind him, and he held it a mere inch from the dirt and rocks of the trail. If you could call the hellish twist of dirt a trail. It was more like a narrow road made to punish anyone attempting the climb.
It wound ever upward, reaching toward a darkening sky hidden in mists. We had climbed past every other peak I could see, and I was beginning to believe the accursed mountain had no top. Or if it did, I would find it only months after I died again and finally, alongside the dusty, hard path.
Mushrooms, berries, and a raw fish courtesy of the bird—my stomach was full and empty all at once. l had water in an oilskin pouch the beastly fowl had brought back from the Goddess only knew where, and that ran thin over and over until we found another stream or puddle to fill it.
Bren. Poor Bren. Would I ever find a way to reach him? How could I possibly be in time? On the third or fourth day, I thought of nothing but Bren and my dry throat. I literally ached for a drink as I climbed a rock face, hand over foot and foot over hand, pulling myself upward with all my strength. At least the climb had loosened my sore muscles and stretched out my tight, freshly-healed skin.
Did I really see my father in a fever-dream? Did he truly heal me? That blessed bird speaks only in sayings and riddles—and who in the name of the Goddess was that red-haired man?
“What was he?” I wondered aloud as I managed to pitch forward onto a ledge instead of falling miles to my doom. It was getting dark enough to gray the scene around me.
“Very good, Jasmina,” Egidus offered as he flew up to the spot I had struggled so hard to achieve. He landed without so much as a labored breath, used his beak to pull the oil-skin from where it hung around my neck, then flew off.
I sat, huffing and seething, until he returned a few minutes later with the oilskin full of cool, perfect water. Unable to help myself, I drank it in a few gulps.
Egidus clucked like a chicken and shook his elegant head. “You must take more care with what the mountain gives us if you wish to reach the Glorieuse.”
I shouted in frustration, just to hear the dull echo of my voice bounce back upward in the crystal cold air, seeming more and more chilly as night fell. “Are you going to tell me about the Glorieuse, or must I guess about that, too?”
Egidus considered this. “There isn’t much to tell, really. It’s the pinnacle of the Wals, and our destination. When we reach it, I have confidence you will know what to do.”
“How can you have that confidence?” I yelled again, more from exhaustion than a wish to hear my echo. “I have failed at most everything I’ve tried. I—”
“Self-pity does not become you.” Egidus ruffled his feathers, then let them fall into place. “That is a form of pride. Bemoaning your many failures as if you were born to succeed at all you attempt—arrogance, pure and simple. Did you know that?”
Thoughts of a large blue bird roasting slowly on a spit filled my mind. “How can you speak to me of pride and arrogance? You do nothing but preen and strut, then speak high-handed nonsense.”
“And what do you do, Jasmina Corey, Queen of the Witches? Did you handle your Shadowalker any differently? Your people?” Egidus studied me with black-pearl eyes. They glittered in the misty mountain light.
Rage heated me from aching head to cramping toe. The only person who could infuriate me as much as this overblown pigeon was Brenden himself.
“I did my best!” I shouted, then rubbed my already-parched throat. Using what little strength I could find, I got to my feet.
The damnable blue peacock studied me again. I could swear his eyes danced, that he wanted to smile. “So you did.” He dipped his fine-feathered head. “You should remember that and avoid your dramatic claims of failure.”
I kicked at the bird, who hopped neatly aside, saying, “We should be on the move, and quickly. Our good fortune will not hold forever.”
“What do you mean?” I started off after Egidus. We were thankfully back on an actual trail, for however long it lasted. The cold grew suddenly colder as I considered options.
The first thing I came up with was of course the worst. “Shadows? Do you think there are Shadows here?” I wanted to lunge at the peacock, grab his tail and make him answer.
This once, I didn’t have to. Egidus stopped, turned, and gave me a firm, rage-cooling stare. “If you fear a thing enough, Jasmina, you will draw it to you.”
My teeth slammed together of their own accord. How could the horrible bird play off my terror like that?
Something in the peacock’s manner reminded me of my mother at that moment. That made me hang my head.
In silence, we began walking again, following the path, always following the path.
“Thinking of your endless failures again, arrogant one?” Egidus kept pace beside me, strutting in that uniquely peacock manner. “Why is it that you cannot take counsel without feeling like you must have been wrong? What if, this once, I happen to know more than you because of my experience?”
His head bobbed once as I looked up.
“You were queen too young, I fear,” he said in a softer tone than I remembered him using before. “You have forgotten how to learn with joy. How to grow with the fresh grace of a child.”
“No witch is a finished flower,” I whispered as my feet kept marching, marching onward. My father said that often enough when he worked with me at my lessons. “There is no shame in new blooms.”
Egidus blessed me with a bob-nod and the sky above us went darker than dark.
The hammer and pound of huge wings filled my ears.
“Flee!” Egidus shouted. “The harpies have found us!”
Almost at the same moment, the waning light finally surrendered into night.
Blindly, we charged up the path side-by-side, falling, hopping, lunging. The bird leaped and fluttered, keeping pace, then leading, then dropping behind me to shout instructions.
“Left. Left, girl! Right! Duck under that branch!”
I obeyed him without question, running under an inky cloud of harpies. Air stirred terrifyingly close to my neck.
“No!” I waved my arms over my head like that wou
ld do any good. At the same moment, I felt a stirring of something missed, something familiar. An energy, a charge.
I felt power!
My power, the magic I had given Bren—as if I were somehow drawing closer to its source, finding its origins once more and claiming it as my own.
The sound of something huge diving through the air made me shriek with frustration. “Cease!” I yelled. “In the name of the Goddess, cease!”
To my great surprise, all sounds halted, and all motion but my own and that of Egidus. I kept stumbling forward, wanting to look up to see if the harpies were hanging in the misty air, but I dared not waste that time. Already, I could feel my control slipping. The spell wouldn’t last as long as I needed it to. Whatever touch of my power I had regained, it wasn’t strong.
I rounded a curve and came face up on a shallow recess in the mountain, more a ceremonial grotto than a true shelter. A silvery light bathed the scene—the moon, I realized, shining full and bright. As I got closer, I could see a carved altar bearing candles, dried sage, a silver chalice, a silver chain with a crescent pendant, and a green circlet of what might have been laurel mingled with olive leaves. Everything I needed for a proper ritual—but what ritual, and why?
“Egidus!” I cried, but the bird had positioned himself back on the path between me and harpies, who were even now beginning to bleat and twitch. The wind was starting to blow. My ceasing spell was failing, and I didn’t think I had the strength or power to cast another.
Weakness…
Failure…
With a growl, I slapped my hands against the side of my head to knock out the old thoughts. They wouldn’t save me now. They wouldn’t save Egidus, or help me get to Bren.
The moment I thought his name, I felt a pull in my heart. Another touch of my own power flowing back. Was he somewhere near? Farther up the path?
But no. After the grotto, the mountain seemed to end as if the mist and sky and night swallowed it. Calming myself thanks to years of my father’s training and my mother’s drilling, I made myself focus and think.
The altar. The altar.
Oh.
Behind the altar stood a wall of polished black stone. It was marble or obsidian or something else, I couldn’t tell in the moonlight. It stretched into the mountain on my right, and blocked the path on my left. A small overhang of rock covered me from above, double my height but narrow indeed. Even if I stood on the altar it would offer me little protection.
The sickening drum of harpy wings began to take over the night. I shoved the sounds from my mind. I had a little power, so what could I do? The items on the altar. “Cast a circle. Perhaps I can make it strong enough for protection.”
With that thought, I hurried forward, picked up the candles, and placed them at the four points, to the best of my discernment, starting with the yellow candle, which was supposed to go to the east. Then the southernmost candle, the red one. I rested it against the wall, instinctively avoiding any contact with the glassy surface of that frightening stone. I then placed the blue one to the west and the green one to the north.
Using a spark of magic, I set the incense to burning, anointed myself with oil I found in the silver chalice, and began the words to make a protective circle.
Egidus landed hard inside the circle before I closed it. “It will not hold for long against such assault,” he gasped.
The harpies were already pounding away at the energy field between us. I felt the blows on my magic as if they were striking my head and shoulders.
“Hurry,” Egidus rasped, limping toward me. “Invoke the Goddess. It is the only way. Not midnight, not optimal, times are out of sync since it is daylight on the other side—but do it. You must open the Glorieuse. Perhaps there is yet one miracle left for the Corey family.”
My gaze darted to the black stone, and I understood—more like remembered. The Glorieuse was a name from old tales, the unbreakable sword of hero knights, made of magical steel or stone.
The black wall was spelled somehow. Be it metal, be it rock, it must be a barrier—the barrier, between the land of the dead and the world of the living.
I had found my path out of Talamadden, and I had walked it.
Somehow, coming so close gave me confidence enough to shrug off the noise and pain of the harpies’ attack. My thoughts sharpened.
“Invoke the Goddess,” I whispered as I grasped the chain and pendant and the circlet of leaves. I no longer felt tired or sore or even thirsty. I knew what I had to do, and I knew the rest was in the hands of the goddess. If she turned away from me now, I was lost.
As I put on my gifts and felt an even greater surge of power, I glanced into the dark sky, toward the shimmering silver circle of the Goddess above me.
It was time to draw down the moon.
***
Chapter Six
We had been running since I woke at the foot of the mountains. Straight up. Forever. Yet I wasn’t that tired. I still felt strong despite the fact we were climbing a peak that had no end.
Acaw had explained that the Guardian of the land of the dead, the Erlking who had been spelled within its boundaries for eons, had been duty-bound to heal me since I had bested him in single combat. The shapeshifting freak had let his daughters work the spell—and apparently one of them thought I was cute. So, the blonde had given me a little extra. Strength. Renewal. A burst of energy that wasn’t permanent, but sure was great while it lasted. The only bad thing was an itch behind my left ear, but it was manageable.
“Maybe I got fleas from the Erlking while he was all hairy and stuff.” I scratched the spot behind my ear. “That would be my luck.”
“He is a proud creature,” the elfling said as his legs churned beside me. “I doubt we have seen the last of him.”
“Sore loser, huh?” I was a little out of breath, unlike Acaw.
“Indeed. I suspect he will try to surprise you next time.”
“As long as there is a next time, I’m cool with that.” I scratched my ear one more time, then shifted my pack on my shoulders. “Let the jerk take another swing at me, and we’ll see who wins.”
It sounded good, but something tugged at the back of my mind. A bad dream about book pages and blood and the sound of the Erlking laughing. Was that all part of the ritual? Was he just getting in a last blow, trying to catch me off guard? Probably, because I was alive, and running, and I felt good. If the child-murderer chose to show back up, I’d hold my own.
“When will we get there?” It was probably the millionth time I had asked. The energy from the Erlking’s daughters was fading, and I tried to keep the huff out of my voice as my boots crushed wet leaves and twigs. “Give me a clue?”
The elfling didn’t pause as his small legs carried him forward, around and around the winding trail up the mountain. Unlike me, he didn’t make a sound as he traveled through the forest. “In due time,” came his standard answer, and despite my good humor I wanted to fling a fireball at his butt.
A couple of strides later we reached the snowline. We seemed to be covering miles in just minutes, but I didn’t know how fast we were running. I didn’t even want to know. And I really didn’t want to fool with snow, either. I grew up a desert rat, and had never cared for the white stuff. I was already drenched and freezing my butt off and getting tired on top of everything. All I needed was snow. I scratched behind my ear and managed not to groan.
Something seemed to tug at the energy way down inside me, as if my magic had been tapped. I shook my head. That was dumb. Who would be draining off my powers way up here? Besides, it wasn’t that much. Just a little. But, still…
The trees opened up around us and suddenly it was bright and sunny and for a moment I had to blink away the brilliance. I hadn’t seen sunshine for what seemed like forever. It felt warm on my face, chasing away some of the chill, even with the snow-covered ground.
Acaw’s crow-brother took flight, slowly circling us as he gave several short caws.
We rounded anoth
er bend in the path and jogged onto a flat, snowy mountaintop. But what caught my attention at once was the large, flat black stone wall right before us, directly in the middle of the clearing at the peak of the mountain. There was nothing on either side of the stone. It was just standing there, attached to nothing at all. Way weird.
Snow crunched beneath my boots as I slowed to a walk and circled the wall. As wide as a pair of double doors, as tall as a good-sized slither, but only as thick as my thigh.
“What is this?” I asked as I stopped and raised my palm to touch the pure black surface.
My hand was snatched away so fast I didn’t even realize Acaw had moved up beside me. “Do not touch the sacred stone,” he said in a low growl. His voice held the most emotion I’d ever heard from him and I couldn’t help giving him a surprised look. “What’d you do that for?” I jerked my hand from his grip.
“You are not prepared.” He bent down beside his pack where he’d already taken out several items. I hadn’t been paying attention to him at all while I’d been walking my circle around the stone, and I was surprised to see a cluster of candles, an incense burner, a jar of water, a bowl of salt, and a pair of stag horns at his feet.
“What’s that stuff?” I started to touch the antlers, but Acaw slapped my hand away. “You are not prepared,” he said again, then handed me a bottle. “You must anoint yourself.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Do what?”
He waved at the jar impatiently. “The oil. At your forehead, neck, and wrists.”
I frowned as I opened the jar and brought it to my nose. “Roses? No way.” I shook my head. “I’m not going to smell like a girl.”
He was busy putting candles around the big black door-thing. A yellow candle to the east, red to the south, blue to the west, and green to the north. Each candle he lit with magic, by simply blowing on it.
“If you wish to save Her Highness, you will follow my directions exactly.” He glanced up at the sun. “Almost midday. Hurry.”
L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set Page 32