“All right, then, girls. Be on your way.” She leans in to kiss Luisa’s cheeks, pulling back to look into her eyes. “I enjoyed traveling with you from New York, my dear. I shall miss your spirit; just remember to tame it when safety or prudence requires, hmmm?”
Luisa nods, leaning back in for another quick embrace before turning and making her way to the carriage.
Sonia does not wait for Aunt Virginia. She steps toward my aunt, reaching for her hands. “I’m so sorry to be leaving. We haven’t even become properly reacquainted!”
Aunt Virginia’s smile is sad. “There’s nothing to be done about it. The prophecy will not wait.” She casts a glance at Edmund, who looks once again at his pocket watch. “And neither, I imagine, will Edmund!”
Sonia giggles. “I suppose you’re right. Goodbye, Virginia.”
Having grown up not in a home of her own, but with Mrs. Millburn as her guardian, Sonia is still uncomfortable showing affection to any but me. She does not embrace my aunt, but looks into her eyes with a smile before turning to leave.
Then it is just Aunt Virginia and me. Already it seems everyone from my past is gone, and the prospect of saying goodbye to my aunt brings a lump to my throat. I swallow around it to speak.
“I wish you were coming with us, Aunt Virginia. I am never as sure of myself as when you are with me.” I do not fully realize the truth of it until it is said.
Her smile is small and sad. “My time has passed, but yours is just beginning. You are stronger since leaving New York — a Sister in your own right. It is time for you to take hold of your place, my dear. I shall be right here waiting to see the story unfold.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I am surprised at how small and frail she feels. I cannot speak for a moment, so swift and powerful are the emotions that crowd my heart.
I pull back, trying to compose myself as I look in her eyes. “Thank you, Aunt Virginia.”
She gives my shoulders one last squeeze before I turn to go. “Be strong, child, as I know you are.”
I step up and into the carriage as Edmund climbs onto the driver’s seat. Once settled next to Sonia with Luisa across from us both, I lean my head out the window, looking to the front of the carriage.
“Shall we, Edmund?”
Edmund is a man of action, and I am not surprised when, instead of answering, he simply flicks the reins. The carriage rolls forward, and without another word our journey begins.
We travel along the Thames for some time. Luisa, Sonia, and I hardly speak within the shadows of the carriage. The boats along the river, the other carriages, and the people walking about all serve to keep our interest until the activity gradually fades. Soon there is nothing but the water on one side and plains stretching to small mountains on the other. The rocking of the carriage and the quiet outside lull us into a sort of stupor, and I doze fitfully against the velvet seat until finally falling into a deep sleep.
I awake with a start some time later, my head against Sonia’s shoulder, as the carriage comes to a hard stop. The shadows, before only gray smudges lurking about the corners of the carriage, have lengthened into a gathering blackness that almost seems alive, as if waiting to claim us all. I shake the notion from my mind as raised voices make their way from outside.
Lifting my head, I find Luisa, as alert as the moment we pulled away from Milthorpe Manor, staring at Sonia and me with something I cannot help but feel is anger.
“What is it?” I ask her.
She shrugs, looking away. “I have no idea.”
I did not mean to ask about the noise outside the carriage but about her strange demeanor. I sigh, deciding she is irritable from being left to her own company during the trip out of London.
“Let me find out.”
I push the curtain aside from the window and spot Edmund standing near a bank of trees a few feet from the carriage. He is speaking to three men who bow their heads in a show of respect that seems decidedly out of place given the rough nature of their clothing and appearance. Their heads swivel in unison toward something that is blocked from my view. When they turn back to him, Edmund reaches out to shake their hands before they turn away, making their way out of my line of vision.
I sit back in the carriage, allowing the curtain to fall back over the window. We have agreed to keep our identities as secret as possible until we reach Altus, both for my protection and for the protection of Sonia and Luisa as keys.
The dull clop of horses’ hooves starts up outside the carriage and eventually recedes into the distance. It has been quiet for some time when Edmund at last opens the door. Stepping down into the sunlight, I am not surprised to see five horses and a bevy of supplies. What does surprise me is that our horses from Whitney Grove are among the new additions to our group.
“Sargent!” I race over to the ebony horse that has been my companion on so many rides. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss his soft hair as he nuzzles at mine. Laughing, I turn back to Edmund. “However did you get him here?
He shrugs. “Miss Sorrensen told me about your… er… holiday home. She thought the journey might be easier with familiar mounts.”
I look over at Sonia, happily stroking her own horse, and smile in thanks.
Edmund pulls a bag from the top of the carriage. “We should leave as quickly as possible. It would not be wise to stand by the side of the road for long.” He hands me the bag. “But first, I imagine you would like to change.”
Getting Luisa to don the breeches takes some doing. Though an excellent horsewoman, she was not in London with Sonia and me when we began riding in men’s clothing. She argues with us for at least twenty minutes before finally agreeing. Even then, her grumbling is clearly heard as Sonia and I wait outside the carriage, already changed and trying desperately not to look at each other for fear we will burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Luisa finally emerges, holding herself stiffly as she adjusts the suspenders that hold up her breeches. She lifts her chin to the sky and walks haughtily past us toward the waiting horses. Sonia clears her throat, and I know she is stifling a giggle as Edmund hands us the reins to the horses we will be riding through the wood to Altus. He has already strapped our supplies to the horses’ haunches. There is nothing to do but prepare to ride.
Still, I stop short of mounting Sargent. It is all well and good for the food, water, and blankets to be transported on the backs of the horses, but there is one thing I must carry myself. Opening the saddlebag on Sargent’s flank, I dig around until I find my bow and the knapsack containing my arrows and Mother’s dagger. That the knife was once used by Alice to undo the spell of protection my mother cast in my chamber does nothing to dim the comfort it gives me. It was my mother’s long before Alice took possession of it.
Now it is mine.
As for the bow, there is no telling if I will have cause to use it, but I have not practiced with the targets at Whitney Grove only to leave our safety to Edmund. I sling the bow across my back and knot the knapsack across my body so that its contents are within quick and easy reach.
“Everything all right?” Edmund, already atop his mount, eyes the knapsack.
“Perfect, thank you.” Feeling safer already, I lift myself onto Sargent’s saddle.
“What of the carriage?” Luisa asks, turning her horse away from it to follow Edmund.
His voice, coming from up ahead of us, is muffled. “Someone will be along for it later. It will be returned to Milthorpe Manor.”
Luisa’s brow furrows, and she twists in the seat of her saddle as she looks back. “But… one of my bags is still atop it!”
“Not to worry, Miss Torelli.” It is clear from Edmund’s tone that he does not expect an argument. “As with the carriage, your extra bag will be returned to Milthorpe Manor where it belongs.”
“But…” Luisa practically sputters with indignation, looking from me to Sonia before finally accepting the futility of any debate. When she settles back into the saddle, refocusing on Edmund’
s back in front of her, the arrows she shoots him are as real as if she were drawing back the string of a bow.
Behind her back, Sonia grins my way as we follow Edmund to the trees bordering the forest. I enjoy the moment of good humor, even at Luisa’s expense, for as we leave the brightly lit clearing for the mysterious shade of the wood, I somehow know that from this moment forward, the journey to Altus will be anything but pleasant.
7
“Ugh! I may never sit comfortably again!” Sonia lowers herself carefully onto the rock next to me.
I know just what she means. Riding at our own leisure could not have prepared us for six solid hours atop a horse.
“Yes, well, I imagine we’ll get used to it after a few days.” I mean to smile but the pain I feel at the rear of my breeches makes me sure it is more of a grimace.
It was a strange day. A day in which we rode silently, hypnotized, it seemed, by the quiet of the woods and the rocking of our horses. Sonia, Luisa, and I rode at the back while Edmund remained at the front by necessity; only he knows where we are going.
Looking over at him, nearly finished setting up the two tents that will be our shelter for the night, I cannot help but wonder at his energy. Though I don’t know Edmund’s age, he has been a fixture in my life since I was a babe and he seemed fatherly even then. Yet he sat uncomplainingly atop his mount through an excruciatingly long day of riding.
Scanning the camp, my eyes come to rest on Luisa, sitting alone with her eyes closed and her back against a tree. I would like to spend a few moments talking with her, but I cannot tell whether she is asleep and am reluctant to disturb her.
When my gaze comes back to rest on Sonia, she appears close to slumber as well.
“If I do not get moving I fear I will never move again,” I tell her. “I’m going to help set up camp.”
I feel badly for poor Edmund, stuck in the forest with only three girls for help and companionship. I resolve to help him as much as possible during our journey.
“I’ll be along in a minute.” Sonia’s words are nearly slurred with exhaustion.
She slides to the ground and cradles her head in her arms, resting them on the rock. She is asleep before I have walked five feet.
Making my way to Edmund, I seek a task, any task, that will keep me busy and in motion. He is happy to oblige and hands me some potatoes and a small knife, though I have never prepared so much as a piece of toast. Every potato I have seen up close has been baked, boiled, or mashed. I finally decide they will not prepare themselves and begin peeling and cutting. It turns out that even something as simple as cutting a potato requires a measure of skill, and after three near misses with the knife, I begin to get a handle on the process.
A few hours later, I have learned to cook over a campfire and have even attempted to wash the dinner dishes with a tired, quiet Luisa in the river a short distance from our camp. My own near-drowning and Henry’s death have instilled in me an almost primitive fear of moving water, and I stay near the bank despite the river’s meandering current.
It is dark and late, though I have no sure way of knowing the time, when Sonia and Luisa head to our shared tent to change for bed. Warming myself by the fire next to Edmund, I feel peaceful and safe, and I know his presence is a good portion of the reason. I turn to him, watching the firelight flicker over his face.
“Thank you, Edmund.” My voice sounds louder than usual among the quiet of the trees.
He looks over at me, his face younger in the glow of the fire. “For what, Miss?”
I shrug. “For coming. For watching over me.”
He nods. “In times like these…” He hesitates, looking into the darkness of the forest as if he can see clearly the danger that lies ahead. “In times like these you must have those most trusted at your side.” He looks back at me. “I like to think I am at the top of that list.”
I smile at him. “That is most true. You are family, Edmund, as much a part of me as Aunt Virginia and, well…” I cannot bear to speak Henry’s name to Edmund. To Edmund who loved and cared for him as his own son. Who bore his loss with silent tears and gave me none of the recrimination I deserved after Henry’s death.
His eyes glaze over as he continues to stare into the night, remembering the thing neither of us wishes to remember. “The loss of Henry nearly undid me. After, when you left… well, it seemed there was almost no cause to go on living.” He meets my eyes. I see the pain there as fresh as if I were looking at him the day after Henry’s funeral when he took me to say goodbye to James. “It was Alice who made me come with Virginia to London.”
“Alice?” I cannot imagine my sister sending help my way.
He nods slowly. “She retreated after you left. I didn’t see her for days, and when I finally did, I knew she was lost. Lost to the Otherworlds.”
“And then?” I prompt.
“When I saw the look of her, her soul becoming blacker by the day, I knew you would need every possible ally. She may be an ocean away, but make no mistake about it.” He pauses and looks into my eyes. “She may as well be standing here with us now. And she is every bit the threat she was when you were under the same roof. Probably more given her desperation.”
I allow the words to settle between us, instinctively running my fingers over the raised mark on my wrist as I try to fathom a world in which my sister, my twin, has grown more evil in my absence. Was it not enough that she pushed Henry into the river? That she exposed me to the Souls and their power by reversing Mother’s spell of protection? But even these thoughts, these thoughts I hardly have the will to contemplate, do not prepare me for what Edmund says next.
“And then there is the matter of James Douglas,” Edmund says.
My head snaps up. “James? What of him?”
Edmund inspects his hands as if he has never seen them before, and I know he does not want to say the thing he will say next. “Alice has been… friendly with Mr. Douglas in your absence.”
“Friendly?” I can hardly choke out the word. “What do you mean?”
“She calls on him at the bookstore… invites him to tea.”
“And he welcomes her attention?” I cannot bear the idea, though I have already resigned myself to the futility in clinging to thoughts of James when the prophecy is still no closer to an end.
Edmund sighs. “That might be reading too much into it.” His voice is kind. “Mr. Douglas was shocked by your sudden departure. I think he’s quite lonely, and Alice… well, Alice looks like you. She’s your twin. Perhaps James only seeks to remind himself of you in your absence.”
My heart beats too quickly in my chest. I am half surprised that Edmund doesn’t hear it in the quiet of the woods. I stand up, feeling as if I may be ill. “I… I believe I’ll go to bed now, Edmund.”
He looks up at me, blinking in the dim flickering light. “Have I upset you?”
I shake my head, willing my voice steady. “Not at all. I am too far away to stake any claim on James.”
Edmund nods, his face creased with worry. “Your father and I were always honest with each other, and though you are a member of the fairer sex, I somehow imagine that you expect the very same thing.”
“It is fine. I am fine. I couldn’t agree more; we must be honest, even when it is painful.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Good night, Edmund.”
His words find me as I turn to leave. “Good night.”
I do not look back. And as I make my way to the tent, it is not the prophecy or my sister I see but the fathomless blue of James Douglas’s eyes.
I do not expect to travel the Plane our first night in the woods. I am tired. Exhausted, really. I have no desire for anything but the dreamless sleep that becomes ever rarer as I am drawn deeper into the prophecy.
Yet travel I do, awakening to the now familiar sensation of being in a dream that is more than a dream.
I do not have the sense of being summoned, exactly. That is something I have come to feel when it happen
s — a calling of sorts that tells me someone is waiting in the Otherworlds just for me.
This is different.
I know there is a reason I am in the Otherworlds. I know there is something I am meant to see or realize, but my destination and purpose seems controlled by something other than a simple being. At times like these, it seems that the universe itself draws me across the realm of the Otherworlds toward a revelation that is no less urgent for my ignorance of its purpose.
I am in the world most closely linked to ours. The one in which everything looks the same. The one in which I can sometimes see those I know and love, can sometimes see my world as it exists but with the finest of veils between the physical version and the mystical one that exists in the Otherworlds of the Plane.
I am flying over a wood I know instinctually to be the one in which my body lies sleeping — the one in which we have traveled on horseback. It is dense with trees, and I fly fast enough over the verdant foliage that it appears as a soft, green carpet beneath my body.
At first, I see nothing under the thick canopy of leaves between the sky in which I fly and the ground beneath the trees, but soon, something moves beneath me, first one direction and then another. It is ethereal. An apparition flitting among the trees. I think it an animal, but it travels so fast I cannot imagine how a simple forest creature could seem to occupy every corner of the wood all at once.
Then I hear the breathing.
It is heavy, very nearly labored save for the fact that it does not sound human. It closes in from every direction, and though I cannot name the thing that gives chase, the fact that it appears beneath me does nothing to ease my fear. I know well that the laws of the Otherworlds do not follow our own. I know just as well that my fear is not to be ignored. It has saved me more than once.
The creature draws closer, its breath coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. There are no landmarks in the forest underneath my flying body. Only mile after mile of trees broken by the occasional small clearing. Even still, I know I am close to safety. I feel the pull of the astral cord. It whispers, You are almost there. If I fly just a little longer, I am certain I will return to the body that is mine.
Guardian of the Gate Page 5