Call to War (6 page)

A
t the edge of the river, Gwen helped the girl up. Tanner's breathing returned to normal and his pulse had slowed. The power of the blood melted away, and he felt like his normal self.

Drenched in mud and river water, the girl's red hair clung to her face in dirty streaks. She was shivering, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“It's all right,” Gwen said, helping the girl sit down on a rock beside Tanner and Castor. “They're gone — you're safe now.”

“I couldn't breathe,” the girl said. “They just … all I could taste was water.”

With her rapier, Gwen cut the girl's hand bindings and sliced the rope off her neck. The girl watched with wide eyes as Gwen hid the rapier, with its cross guard like an open wolf's jaw, back in the lining of her cloak.

The girl was younger than them, maybe ten or eleven years old. “What's your name?” Tanner asked gently.

“Isadora,” she said. She pulled away from them. “I swear to you, I'm not a witch. I didn't speak to a demon. I never —”

“We know you're no witch,” Castor said.

“It's just the people around you, panicking,” Tanner added. “Derthsin's rumors of witchcraft are helping him spread evil through Avantia.”

The girl rubbed her wrists and took a deep breath. Her hands were still shaking. “Thank you.”

“Do you have somewhere you can go?” Gwen asked.

Isadora shook her head, tears in her eyes again. “My own mother wouldn't look at me. She locked me out of the house when they came for me.”

Castor balled his fists and his expression darkened. “Who?” he said. “Who came for you?”

“Our Bone Mother, Hilda, and Worrick, our leader. My brother — I don't know where he is — they dragged him out of the village with a rope around his neck. We weren't the only ones. I saw some others drown.” Isadora covered her face as she started to cry. “The men held them under the river until they stopped moving, and nobody buried the bodies, they just …”

Gwen knelt and put her arms around Isadora. “It's over now.” Castor stood rigidly beside them, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Do you have anyone else?” Tanner asked, shifting his gaze from Castor's face. “Is there someplace you can go?”

“Colton,” Castor said, suddenly brightening. “If you give them my name — tell them Castor sent you. Here!” He hastily tore off a strip from his sleeve and tapped the diamond-shaped stitching, his eyes feverishly bright. “They'll recognize this symbol. You have to go there to be safe.” He shoved the scrap of fabric into the girl's hands.

“Castor,” the girl repeated.

“I'll draw you a map,” Gwen said, “but you'll need food….”

“The caravan,” Tanner said. “There might be enough supplies back at the merchant caravan. I can —”

“I'll do it,” Castor offered.

“You don't have to, Castor,” Tanner said.

“Yes,” Castor said. “I do. I need to.” He had already climbed onto Nera and now he turned his face away. She raced across the field, her fur rippling, and disappeared over the brow of a hill.

Need to? What's that mean?
Tanner watched his friend depart.
Why did he say that, and why wasn't he able to look at me? There's more to our friend than preening arrogance
, he thought. There was mystery lurking beneath Castor's shallow waters.

Gwen had settled cross-legged on the ground. She opened a blank parchment and with a narrow quill and tiny bottles of colored ink, she carefully sketched a map, pointing out key landmarks on the way to Colton. She was just finishing when Nera and Castor returned.

Castor tossed Isadora a satchel. “Food and fresh water,” he said. “It'll get you to Colton.”

Isadora slung the satchel over her shoulder and rolled up the map. “I don't know how to thank you for this,” she said. “If you hadn't …” She hugged Gwen, then Tanner, and waved up at Castor, who was still sitting on Nera's back. “I won't forget this,” she said.

“You don't owe us anything, just be careful,” Tanner said.

Isadora smiled. “Don't worry, I will be. But one day I will return this favor.”

As Isadora walked away, the three companions dipped their weapons into the Winding River, cleaning them of Varlot's blood.

Gwen's mouth was set in a firm line. “Now that we're alone again, can we talk? What we saw in Hartwell, was it real or a vision? Vendrake torturing Geffen after death, making him still fight. He was hurting him, even after everything he's suffered, keeping him half-alive….” She couldn't say the words. “It
was
real, wasn't it? And what about you? It was blood in that vial, wasn't it? Is it true what Varlot said — that you've drunk Firepos's blood? I saw how you lunged at Varlot. You were desperate to kill him!”

“I feel braver,” Tanner admitted. “When Varlot was mocking Firepos about the Gathering of Five, I was able to see into her thoughts. Well, at first I could — but then she closed her mind to me. Firepos and the other Beasts gathered with Anoret — the Beast behind the Mask of Death. They were going to give Anoret their blood so that she could be stronger for something. I couldn't see anything beyond that, but …” Did Tanner dare put his worst fears into words? “I think you're right. I drank her blood and I've inherited Firepos's powers. Except, the blood wasn't meant for me.” He looked into Gwen's face. “There might be consequences.”

Gwen crumpled, as if he'd pushed her. “What is Derthsin doing to us?” she cried. “Where is this going to end?” She covered her face with both hands. Tanner could do nothing but watch.

This is all part of your fate
, came a message.
We must both accept it. Gwen, too.
Firepos was watching him from a distance, her feathers glowing with tiny flames.

“Fate!” Tanner cried, making Gwen suddenly look up. “I'm sick of being told what path my life should take! Firepos, Esme, everyone. Why can't I choose for myself?”

Tanner looked back at Castor. So far, he hadn't said a word.
And what are
his
secrets?
Tanner thought angrily.

Gulkien moved to sit beside Gwen, pressing his fur against her arms, and when he made a low noise, she turned. She buried her face in his fur, and slowly her shoulders stopped shaking. Her breathing steadied, and she got up and looked at them. Gwen's face was red and wet, but there were no more tears in her eyes — they looked different, as if she were staring straight through Tanner and Castor at something ugly in the distance. Gwen's lips set in a narrow line, unsmiling.

“Derthsin won't win,” she said quietly.

The empty way she said it made Tanner shiver. It was as if she had given up a part of herself, torn it out because it was too weak.

“No,” Tanner said, “he won't. But we're running out of time. We have to find the pieces of the mask.” He walked with Gwen toward their Beasts. “You saved Isadora, Gwen. If you hadn't done that …”

“Isadora is alive because of
me
,” Castor said.

Tanner took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “We all saved her,” he said.

“Oh, did we? You wanted to talk Varlot to death while they drowned her, remember?”

“And you wanted to fight him single-handed,” Tanner said. “Remember? You charged at him before we could figure out a plan. We almost died because of you.”

Nera flashed teeth like pointed razors, and Firepos shrieked, opening her wings.

There was a hiss of metal, and suddenly Castor was holding the point of his blade before Tanner's face. He always had been quick. “You're not strong enough to fight me.”

Tanner drew his own sword. “Let's find out.”

Gwen lunged between them. She held blades to each of their throats, close enough that if they moved, she'd kill them both. The blades were shiny and grooved with concentric patterns. “No,” Gwen said. The dead way she stared at them broke their anger. “This stops now. You're not going to fight.”

Castor tried to smile. “Get that away from my throat.”

“Is this a game to you?” Gwen said, and slowly, she lowered her axes. “If you want to fight, go home. Go back with Isadora, Castor. Tanner, go sit in your village with the graves. Go and wait until Avantia dies, wait until you see Derthsin's soldiers on the next hill or at the edge of whatever field you're sitting in. Wait until the sky turns black. Let him win.”

They lowered their swords. Tanner's muscles were already stiffening from the fight against Varlot.

“Come on,” Tanner said. “We need to find the next piece of the mask. This is why we're doing all this, isn't it?”

Nera snorted and backed away. Tanner climbed onto Firepos's back. It was time to go.

The mouth of the cave was jagged and black. As Tanner climbed off Firepos and stepped into the opening, his footsteps echoed loudly, deep into the mountain.

Our Beasts brought us here
, Tanner thought.
The piece of the mask must be buried in the belly of this cavern.
They'd already lost two pieces of the mask to Derthsin. It was more important than ever to retrieve the third piece, lying here. If Derthsin got all four pieces, he'd have power over the Beasts — and through them, over Avantia. In there, in the dark, lay Tanner's only hope of defeating the evil warrior.

The walls of black rock were shiny and reflective, like murky glass. The cave tunnel was huge, and tiny breaks in the ceiling cast narrow shafts of daylight. Tanner could see perfectly. Castor and Gwen joined him, followed by Nera, Firepos, and Gulkien. The cave was big enough for the Beasts to move freely.

“This is it?” Castor said. His voice echoed into the cave. “The place where the next piece of the mask lies?”

Tanner glanced at the scrap of red linen around his wrist: a reminder of Esme and times when the world was simpler. For his grandmother's sake, he could not give up now.

“I think so. We have to hurry,” he whispered. “Come on.”

Tanner led them into the mountain. Their weapons rattled, and their footsteps seemed to thunder in the darkness. As they turned a corner, the cave grew warmer, as if they were entering a house with a wood-burning furnace.
Strange
, thought Tanner.
It's usually cooler underground.
The tunnel forked.

“Which way?” Gwen asked.

Something rattled, echoing out of the right-side tunnel. Castor froze. Tanner and Gwen ran to him, the Beasts following.

“What did you do?” Tanner hissed.

Castor shook his head. “Nothing.”

Rattle-snap.
The sound brought a flash of memory to Tanner: Grandmother Esme's oracle bones. They were yellow cubes, worn black at the edges and painted with tiny, foreign symbols. She had tossed them in a ceramic plate with crushed leaves and uncooked beans.
“They read messages in the wind and dirt,”
Grandmother Esme had once said.
“Oracle bones are always looking for the future. We just have to learn to hear them.”
She had shaken the bones, made them rattle and bounce — just like the sound they could hear now.

It echoed again.

Castor reached for his sword. Gwen slipped her hands into her cloak and drew two axes, the blades angled down. As quietly as he could, Tanner pulled his sword and nodded to them. Carefully, he led them into the passage.

I don't understand
, Tanner thought.
Who would search for the future here?