Ian looked back at Whisper, who was on her back and had risen to her elbows. Thick, dark red blood stained her shirt. Then he grabbed his son into a tight bear hug. To his delight, Cole hugged him back. “I missed you so much, Cole.”
“…..Can we go home now?”
“Absolutely.” As soon as the word left his mouth, a rumble echoed through the Fire Tower. “What was that?”
“The Raven-Eater knows something is wrong,” Whisper spoke up from behind, slowly rising. “We must go now.”
Ian gathered his son into his arms and didn’t bother to help Whisper to her feet. “You’re not off the hook.”
“No, but you will trust me long enough to get you out.” He wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a statement, but he let it go anyway. “Stay behind me, and do everything I say.”
She’s certainly quick to forgive, Ian thought, but wouldn’t have apologized even if they had the time. Whisper could have saved Cole, could have prevented this entire trip from happening, but as always, she was calculating. He still didn’t quite understand her end goal, but whatever it was, he didn’t care. From now on, it was all about using her to get the hell out of the Land of the Dead.
Whisper led the way out of the room and down the hall. She was limping slightly, occasionally wiping her face and slinging blood to the floor. Apparently, Ian considered, he’d hit her harder than he meant to. Cole clung to him with a death grip, fingers digging into his shoulder. His memories restored, he was terrified and desperate for his father to save him.
As he followed his guide through narrow, dimly lit passages, down slick steps, around sharp corners, Ian marveled at the fact that she led them through half-closed eyes, as though she was listening to inaudible directions and reading a map in her mind. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, and he silently thanked her for getting rid of the guards at the base of the Fire Mountains, however the hell she did that.
When she stopped, holding up an arm, Ian caught a strange movement across her back reflecting in the wavering torch lights. He didn’t know if he should be sickened or awed over the red lines pulsing through her tattoo. For the three seconds they stood in place, he stared at the movement before he realized just what he was looking at.
A map. It was a map of the Fire Tower, of the Land of the Dead, and those red lines were telling Whisper where to go. But how was it possible? The thought racked Ian’s mind as the race through the stale-smelling, golden-lit hallways continued. This entire time she had been led by a tattoo, a tattoo that spoke to her…whispered to her.
Despite everything he’d been exposed to in the Land of the Dead, he couldn’t accept that.
“Oh, thank God,” Ian muttered when they burst outside. The light was brighter now, though he didn’t know it was because the Raven-Eater was on the hunt for his missing captives. The wind had picked up as well, whipping Whisper’s hair around her face and making her look like a beautiful, though incredibly bruised, angel of death. Once outside, Cole began to cry, frightened by the strange noises that he knew were coming from the Raven-Eater’s army.
Suddenly Whisper slammed a hand into Ian’s chest, shoving him back against hard rock. A black horse erupted from a chasm deep in the Fire Mountains and landed right where he had been standing.
“Where the hell did he come from?”
“A friend,” Whisper answered, as though that explained everything. She gestured to Ian. “Get on.”
Chapter 29
Cole Daivya’s body was arranged to be transported back home by police escort. The media frenzy was yet to die down, and Julia tried her best to fend them off as she prepared to return home. Olivia would drive her back, while David had elected to stay behind to take care of the final details. In less than three days, Cole would be six feet underground.
Dr. Hessy had determined the autopsy complete, with no real answer as to Cole’s death. On the outside, it looked as though Cole had only been dead a few days. On the inside, the body was a mess. Partially decomposed, yet not enough to figure out when the boy actually passed away. At his best guess, Cole died either the day of his disappearance or shortly thereafter, and because there were no physical signs of trauma, his final determination was that the boy died of drowning. His lungs at least had evidence of that. The preservation of his body was a mystery, and after conferring with five other doctors, no one had any clues. And Smoke Speaker wasn’t talking.
The hunt for Ian and Whisper had spread from North Carolina to the surrounding states. Police, FBI, and volunteers were combing every nook and cranny for the alleged murderers, while reporters soaked up the limelight with outrageous claims of extramarital affairs and sacrificial rituals. Julia ignored them all, while Forbe was forced to answer probing questions on a daily basis. Personally, he didn’t think Ian or Whisper would ever be found. She was too swift and sneaky to be caught, if she was even still alive. Plus, Forbe wasn’t so sure the Elder hadn’t done something foul to them.
The only person sure of anything was David Bard. He knew, without a doubt, that Smoke Speaker was innocent. How he knew, he couldn’t say, but he was planning on getting to the bottom of his instincts.
Ian eyed the black horse cautiously, frowning over the beast’s matted coat, wet nose encrusted with snot and blood, mouth dripping thick gray saliva. The horse stomped and shook its head, black hair shaking in the breeze. The reins jingled, biting into the creature’s mouth and head, and the saddle sat heavily upon its back.
“You’re joking right?”
“We do not have time for questions.” The urgency in her voice prompted Ian to shift Cole to one arm and use the other to hoist himself onto the horse. Whisper grabbed the reins and led the horse away from the Fire Tower, just as a horrifying scream burst from the mountain tops. Ian glanced over his shoulder to see the dark figure of the Raven-Eater staring down at him. His guards missing, he could do nothing but watch as his captives escaped. Watch, that is, and aim carefully with the bow and arrows that had been stripped from Whisper’s back. To kill a foolish woman with her own weapons was a justice that filled his heart with pride.
Whisper dodged the first arrow, having heard its nearly silent whistle as it glided through the air. It struck a rock mere inches from her head and shattered into a dozen pieces. Panic began to creep into her bones, and she struggled to brush it off as the ground began to rumble, signifying the terrible fact that the army was on the move. But this was the moment she had been waiting for, training for. This was the reason why she had dragged Ian through the Land of the Dead, and she was not going to let the threat of a murdered army slow her down.
“We must hurry,” she whispered to herself, her grip tightening on the reins as she raced to the edge of the Fire Mountains. When they reached the outskirts of the Barren Plains, Ian surprised Whisper by lowering a hand.
“Get on.”
Whisper paused, then shook her head. “Soquili will take you all the way to the RiverKeeper,” she said, pressing herself up against the horse when another arrow threatened to take her life. The air thickened then, swirling around them angrily with an almost humid desperation as the sky filled with clouds of reds and purples tumbling together furiously. All around them rocks crashed from the sides of the Fire Mountains, one striking Ian in the shoulder.
“The RiverKeeper will take you back, for a price,” Whisper shouted above the wind, taking them further into the Barren Plains and keeping her eyes on the Raven-Eater, who was advancing on them quickly. “You must then travel back to the Bridge of the Dead, and face the Watchmen!” She dragged her hair out of her mouth and spat out a thin stream of blood. It dripped down her chin, but she hardly noticed. “Then head into the Western Sun!”
“Whisper!” Ian grabbed her by the arm and would have leapt off the horse had Cole not screamed for him to stay. “What are you talking about?!”
“You must go back to the lake!” Whisper yanked Gentle Heart’s necklace from her belt and shoved it into Ian’s arms. “You must die to liv
e! When you surface, bury this necklace in Howling Vines. It is the only way to stop the Raven-Eater!”
“But—wait! Whisper, wait!” He didn’t understand what was going on, but when she thrust the reins into his hands, he realized that she wasn’t planning on going with them. The fact bothered him, as he still despised the woman yet there was a part of him that nonetheless wanted her to live. “What are you doing? We can’t do this without you!”
“You have to, Mr. Daivya! There is no other way!”
“Come with us!”
At the invitation, Whisper paused just long enough for Ian to see the regret pass through her unforgettable ebony eyes. He watched as she untied the leather band around her left wrist, then held up her arm.
“I cannot return to the Land of the Living,” she said, and Ian had to strain to hear her over the wind. “I took my own life to be here, Mr. Daivya, and I intend to stay. Everything we have done has been for this moment. This is the way it must be.”
Confusion, anger, sorrow, desperation, all tore at him as he stared down at the thick, raised scar slashed across her wrist. He didn’t get it. Why would she commit suicide? Why would she take her own life, when she could have saved Cole’s from the very beginning?
Whisper used Ian’s stunned silence to her advantage. Just before the Raven-Eater descended upon them, she lifted a fist high into the air and offered her traveling companion and his son once final nod. The slash across her wrist looked rougher and painful in the purple lights. “Thank you for your company,” she said earnestly. “Take care of your family, and yourself.” Her hand uncurled then just as the Raven-Eater lifted the bow for a final shot and his army began the march across the Barren Plains.
“And Ian,” Whisper said suddenly, almost as an afterthought. He turned for one last look at the most incredibly mysterious woman he had ever known. “Please tell Smoke Speaker….I said good-bye.”
Then, with a furious strength that surprised even herself, she uncurled her fist and lashed down her arm, slapping the horse across the rear.
The horse took off with a grunt and stomp, and Ian hunched over with Cole bound tightly in his arms. When the wind picked up dust and threw it into his eyes, he looked back to see the blurred vision of an arrow plunging deep into Whisper’s chest.
Chapter 30
There was a foreign scent in the air, a strange combination of death, magic, and dangerous foreboding. The average person was immune to its stench, but Smoke Speaker struggled to fight back the gags that racked his body. He knew that smell, recognized its danger, what it meant.
The Army of the Dead was on the move, steadily marching towards the Land of the Living. The closer they got, the more powerful the scent. The Elder prayed to Creator every minute, begging for more time. He now had no way of knowing where Whisper was, what was happening in the Land of the Dead, where the dead soldiers currently were. It would take them some time to reach the Western Sun, as the dead souls were those raised from the Barren Plains, those eternally cursed for their sins, those who moved steadily, but at little more than a brisk walking pace. That much Smoke Speaker knew to be true, just as he knew that a sudden mass invasion of the Land of the Living could potentially destroy the world forever, leaving nothing for the Raven-Eater to rule but a vast land of black ashes. Ian and Cole could return safely because they would surface through the same medium in which they died—water, the most powerful of spiritual transports. The Army, on the other hand, would simply burst through one realm to the next, and such an eruption of worlds had to be done slowly, slyly.
Smoke Speaker was planning on enjoying what little time he had left in this world. He stood on his bed in the tiny holding cell and stared out the small barred window. The stars shined brightly against a black sky. He let their brilliance fill his closed eyes, savoring the light as it traveled through his soul, warming his heart.
“Watch over us, good men,” he whispered, then opened his eyes. “Osiyo, Deputy Duff.”
From just outside the cell, Ben Duff shuffled his feet and wondered how the old man knew he was there. It looked to him like Smoke Speaker was completely enraptured by the night sky, rather than the happenings of the sleepy police station. Duff had been one of two left at the station for a few hours now, and it was too much to resist Smoke Speaker’s draw. He had always admired the man, and was fascinated by his ways. “Hello, Elder.”
“Mr. Duff…do you know why the stars shine down on our people?”
The deputy wasn’t sure if Smoke Speaker was luring him into something or being genuine. Either way, he was curious. “Why?”
The Elder smiled, resting an old, wrinkled hand on the window ledge. It was rare for him to share his people’s stories with the white man, and ancient law dictated that such stories could only be heard upon invitation. Smoke Speaker was inviting Duff to listen because he knew the man loved Whisper, had fallen for her the moment she filled his vision. Duff didn’t believe Whisper was guilty, despite his siding with Forbe, and that loyalty went a long way with the Elder.
“Many moons ago, Mr. Duff, seven young boys spent their days playing a traditional game, rolling a stone across the earth and chasing it with a curved stick. Their mothers did not like this, because the boys neglected their chores day after day, and so they collected stones, boiled them, and told the boys to eat them for dinner, if they love this game so much.”
Duff scoffed, immediately wishing he could take it back when the Elder shifted slightly. He hadn’t meant any disrespect, he was simply imagining his own mother saying such a thing. “Sorry.”
Smoke Speaker focused again on the stars. “The boys were very angry with their mothers, so they went to the village center and danced the sacred Feather Dance to pray to the gods to teach their mothers a lesson. Soon, they danced so long and so hard that their feet began to lift from the earth, and they rose higher into the night sky.” The Elder’s wrinkled hand lifted as he spoke. “The mothers tried to save them, but only one could reach. She pulled so hard that the boy struck the ground and sank beneath the surface.”
The deputy grimaced and looked down at his hands. Obviously, this wasn’t a happy story. When the old man paused, taking in a deep breath, he feared the tale was over, and wanted to know what happened. “What about the other six?”
Smoke Speaker hid a smile. So, he thought with amusement, we have a believer.
“The young boys danced into the sky, where they remain today. Our Cherokee people grieved for them, and the mothers cried over the earth where the one boy vanished. Soon, a tree began to grow, until it rose into what is now known as the Pine. The Pine, Mr. Duff, is made up of tears, and cherishes the bright lights of the night sky. And that is why we have the stars, officer, because of the sacrifices young mothers were forced to make.”
“Like the sacrifice my daughter was forced to make?”
Both Duff and Smoke Speaker spun around, surprised by the question. The Elder nearly tumbled off the bed, but caught himself in time to step down carefully and face David Bard squarely, bravely, and proudly.
David stood behind the two with his wide arms crossed. He didn’t bother explaining that the guard on front desk duty had let him in, warning him with a stern lecture not to cause any trouble. He wasn’t here for trouble, he was here for answers.
The veteran walked up to the cell and slammed a hand against the bars. “Was my grandson sacrificed to your so-called stars?”
Smoke Speaker would not lie to the distraught grandfather. He too knew what it was like to lose a loved one. And besides, he no longer had anything to lose. “Your grandson was sacrificed so that our world may survive.”
David hesitated. He’d been expecting a runaround answer, some kind of riddle. “What do you mean?”
“A war is coming, Mr. Bard, a war that will end our world and enslave our people to the Guardian of the Dead. Your grandson’s death means that we have a chance to fight back, to live.”
David knew many of the old stories, but couldn’t remember
ever hearing anything about a war. The Raven-Eater’s war had never come up in legends, nor had any tale about a child saving the day. And Cole…how could one young boy play such a large role?
“Ian,” he said suddenly, glaring at the Elder, taking in his long, tangled white hair, tired black eyes, deep wrinkles that signified many, many years on Earth. “Ian has something to do with this, doesn’t he? And your apprentice?”
Smoke Speaker nodded slowly, his old bones screaming and pleading for him to rest. He could only hope the pain didn’t show on his face. “Whisper and Mr. Daivya have gone to the Land of the Dead to rescue the boy, and kill the Raven-Eater. Their success is vital for our survival. If they fail, we will die, and none of this will matter anymore.”
For some strange, unexplainable reason, David believed the Elder. Smoke Speaker may have been crazy, disillusioned, but he knew he truly believed what he was saying.
Blowing out a breath, and hating himself for what he was about to say, hating himself for who and what he believed, David uncurled his fists and rested his forehead against the cool bars. “Okay….so what can I do to help?”
Whisper awoke with a rough cough that sent sharp spears of pain through her chest and back. An agonizing cry escaped her lips as she clutched the open wound with shaking hands, blood seeping through her fingers. Weakly, she glanced down to see the dark red circle that stained her torn buckskin shirt. The arrow that shot her lay disregarded on the floor. It was her own arrow, and if she hadn’t been in so much pain, Whisper would have fumed over the idea of being taken down by a weapon she crafted with her own two hands.
Instead of raging, all she could do was lie on her back and struggle to breathe. She felt her souls detaching from her body, her spirit draining, and prayed to Creator for the strength to carry on.
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