Cursed Bones: Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Five (35 page)

“What in the name of the Maker was that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Isabel said, “and I don’t really want to.”

“I’m with Isabel,” Ayela said. “That was literally something out of a nightmare.”

“I kind of feel bad for Scales,” Horace said.

“Me too,” Isabel said, “but I think he saved us.”

“I had the same thought,” Hector said. “I wouldn’t even know where to start in a fight with something like that.”

“Can we just get farther away from it, please?” Ayela said.

Horace pointed at her and nodded.

The ground got firmer and higher as they traveled through the afternoon. There were still plenty of pools of standing water but they became much easier to avoid. Near nightfall, they found a shelf of exposed stone that was big enough for them to make camp. Isabel used her light-lance to ignite a damp log and give them some much-needed warmth and light for the night.

She was sitting her watch in the middle of the night when Ayela came awake with a start. She looked around wildly before taking a deep breath and calming herself.

“Nightmare?” Isabel asked quietly.

“Sort of,” Ayela whispered. “An old woman came to me, here at this exact spot, and told me the path we must follow. She showed me the soldiers coming through the night and said we would only survive if we did as she instructed.”

“That sounds pretty specific,” Isabel said, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’ve seen this woman in my dreams before,” Ayela said, shivering.

“What else did she say?”

“Nothing, she was just standing at the edge of the swamp, beckoning for me to come to her.”

Isabel leaned forward. “Have you had this dream more than once?”

“Yes, several times since Phane came and killed my family. I try not to think about it.”

“Magic can be used to speak to people in their dreams,” Isabel said. “Maybe someone is calling to you.”

“But why?”

Isabel shrugged and shook her head.

Alexander appeared a moment later. “They’re coming,” he said, urgently. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier, I could have given you more warning.”

Isabel came instantly alert, not from what he said but from how desperate he seemed.

“How close?”

“Seven or eight hundred feet,” Alexander said. “You have to go … now.”

She and Ayela woke Hector and Horace and they were up and moving within a few minutes. Ayela gave Hector her jar filled with lichen to light the way, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Then Alexander transformed into a bobbling sphere of pure white light floating above them, providing just enough illumination to guide their steps but not enough to penetrate the mist more than a few dozen feet.

Ayela stopped dead in her tracks. “I know this place … from my dreams.”

They heard a muffled shout in the distance. The Sin’Rath and Trajan’s soldiers had found their campsite.

“Lead the way,” Isabel said, hoping she was making the right decision.

Alexander re-formed a few minutes later, the glowing sphere floating over his head.

“Where are you taking them, Ayela?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, I’m following instructions I received in a dream.”

He turned to Isabel. “We have no way of knowing who cast the dream-whisper. You could be walking right into a trap laid by the Sin’Rath.”

“I considered that,” Isabel said, “but they’re so close to catching us that I don’t think they’d bother.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, transforming back into a bobbling light.

“Me too,” Isabel said, motioning for Ayela to continue.

The Princess of Karth wound through the swamp with unsettling confidence, seeming to know the path as if she’d walked it a hundred times, avoiding water at every turn, even to the point of guiding them across a rope bridge strung between two trees. They would never have found it on their own—it was hung above the mist and accessible only by climbing a tree that had notches in the side, forming the rungs of a ladder.

The bridge was sturdy and well kept, spanning fifty feet between two stout cypress trees at a height of twenty feet from the ground and two or three feet over the mist. Isabel smiled up at the stars when she broke free of the mist and sighed with resignation when she had to descend back into the murky air.

Not long after, Ayela led them to the concealed mouth of a cave, which turned out to be a tunnel leading through solid stone. They followed it for several minutes, winding through the earth until it stopped abruptly at a stone wall. Ayela stopped, placing her hand on the wall in confusion … then the wall vanished, opening into a little clearing. Alexander’s light disappeared when they crossed the threshold, and the mist shrouding the swamp was completely gone, revealing a clear sky above.

An old woman approached, smiling thinly. She wore a tattered robe over her thin and frail frame. Her hair was long and grey, her nose resembled a beak, several strands of jet black hair grew from the prominent mole on her cheek, but her slate grey eyes were clear and filled with intelligence and purpose.

“Hello, Child,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you, though I did not expect you to bring friends.”

She stopped a few feet from Ayela and her crooked smiled warmed, then she turned to Isabel and the coldness in her eyes gave the lie to her smile. Isabel felt every hair stand on end as the woman casually blew a handful of powder into her face and blackness engulfed her.

Chapter 29

“How’s she doing?” Abigail asked, quietly sitting down next to Anatoly. He stared into the fire for several moments before answering.

“Not well. Her fever is only getting worse and I don’t know what to do for her.”

Abigail nodded, looking over at Magda sleeping fitfully under most of their blankets. They had arrived at this cave several days ago, guided by Alexander. It was a large round cavern that looked like it had been formed by an enormous air bubble trapped inside hardening lava. The entrance was narrow, almost too narrow for Ixabrax to squeeze through, but the interior was spacious and dry. It was located in a stand of evergreen trees on the side of a mountain just a few hundred feet below the timberline. Most importantly, there was a hot spring a dozen feet from the cave entrance that melted the snow as it filled the little mountain pool and ran off down the mountain in a steaming rivulet bordered on both sides by intricate and delicate ice formations and bright green foliage. The forest surrounding them provided an ample supply of firewood, but little in the way of food.

There were paintings on the walls of the cave, scenes of hunts and predators from ages long past. Abigail spent hours looking at the primitive art, wondering about the people who had stood in this very place so long ago … but that had been in the first few days before Magda had come down with a fever and become delirious. Now she was worried for her friend’s survival. She and Anatoly took turns watching over her as she struggled to overcome the infection plaguing her shoulder wound.

They didn’t have any healing potions or salve, so they’d done the best they could to clean and bandage her wound. Beyond that, all they could do was keep her warm and provide her with food and water when she was strong enough to take it.

Ixabrax was curled up on the far side of the cave as far away from the fire as he could get. For the most part he was patient, content to sleep while they fretted over Magda. Only occasionally did one of his big, catlike eyes open and assess the situation before closing again.

When Alexander appeared, standing near the fire, both Anatoly and Abigail stood quickly, urgently.

“Where have you been?” Abigail said, almost accusingly.

“Isabel’s been in trouble. I’ve been helping her for the past several days and it’s taken most of my strength.”

Anatoly nodded, looking over at Magda with worry in his eyes.

“Magda’s in trouble, too,” Abigail said. “We don’t know how to help her.”

Alexander scrutinized Magda’s colors, and seeing the ugly base colors of infection, fixed Abigail with a resolute look.

“I don’t either, but Lucky will. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, fading from sight.

He found Lucky in a workroom next door to Mason Kallentera’s expansive laboratory in Glen Morillian. Lucky was busy spooning biscuit batter onto a sheet pan when Alexander appeared nearby.

“Hi, Lucky.”

The rotund mage alchemist looked startled but then smiled broadly.

“Ah, there you are, my boy. It’s so good to see you. I trust all is well. Your leg is healing properly, yes?”

“My leg is healing well enough, but slowly. I’ve come because Magda is injured. She has an infection in her shoulder and it’s spreading. I’m hoping you can help me.”

Lucky set the bowl of batter aside and wiped his hands on his apron. “Of course, of course. Does she have a fever? Is she conscious?”

“She’s sleeping fitfully and burning up.”

“How serious is the wound?”

“Zuhl put a spike clean through her shoulder.”

Lucky nodded thoughtfully. “I assume she was injured rescuing Abigail.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Lucky. You must have been worried sick about her. She and Anatoly are with Magda, along with a dragon named Ixabrax. They’re safe and well hidden but they don’t know what to do for her.”

“Is there any foliage around?”

Alexander nodded. “They’re in an evergreen forest just below the timberline.”

“Old Man’s Beard should be growing on some of the nearby trees,” Lucky said, looking around at the disorder of his workroom. “I’m afraid I don’t have a sample but perhaps Mason does. He’d like to see you, anyway.”

Lucky led him next door to Mason’s workroom. The wizard was sitting in front of the fire reading an ancient book.

He stood with a smile when Alexander and Lucky entered.

“Hello Alexander, or should I call you Lord Reishi?”

“Alexander, please. It’s good to see you, Mason.”

“You, as well. How can I be of service?”

“Do you happen to have a sample of Old Man’s Beard?” Lucky asked.

Mason nodded thoughtfully, looking this way and that for a moment before smiling and winding his way through the tables scattered haphazardly around his workroom and selecting a jar from one of his many shelves.

Alexander examined the strange-looking lichen. It was light green and stringy, almost like thick strands of hair.

“What do you do with it?”

“Crush it slightly, preserving the strands, then place it directly on the wound,” Lucky said. “Wrap a loose bandage around it and change the dressing morning and night, replacing the Old Man’s Beard with each changing.”

“How long before she starts to show signs of improvement?”

“That depends on the degree of infection, but probably just a few days,” Lucky said.

“Good, how’re you settling in here?”

“Well enough. Mason has provided me with ample space to work and the rest of the wizards are converting a nearby manor house for use as the guild house. Kelvin is there now.”

“I feel better knowing you’re both safely out of Phane’s reach.”

“I wish I could say the same about you and your sister,” Lucky said.

“We’ll manage. Is this place secure from prying eyes?”

“Quite,” Mason said. “In addition to the magic circles surrounding the valley and castle, this level is spelled to prevent scrying.”

“Yet I’m able to enter.”

“Yes, but you bear the Mark of Cedric,” Mason said. “This place exists to assist you, so you’re always welcome here.”

“I hope you’re right, Mason. Phane can see just as far as I can.”

“I assure you, he can’t see anywhere within this valley.”

“I was hoping that would be the case,” Alexander said. “It’s been good to see you both.” Alexander vanished from sight but followed Lucky back to his workshop, reappearing once his old mentor was alone.

“It’s time you started on your next project, Lucky.”

“Yes, of course,” Lucky said, closing the door and dropping the bar in place.

“Start by procuring the necessary ingredients to make a quart of aqua regia.”

“Aqua regia is a very potent acid and difficult to make,” Lucky said. “It will take some time to produce such a quantity.”

“I know, but it’s a necessary first step,” Alexander said. “I’ll check back when you’re ready to make it and let you know the next step.”

“Give my love to Abigail and Isabel.”

“I will,” Alexander said, fading from sight.

***

Abigail was pacing when Alexander reappeared.

“Any luck?”

“There’s a type of lichen growing near here that will help with the infection,” he said. “It’s not far … I can guide you to it.”

Abigail tossed her heavy, fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and picked up her bow.

“Don’t you think I should go instead?” Anatoly said.