Keeper of the Black Stones (44 page)

“Thanks be to God,” William sighed. He put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently. Then we pushed forward with one last burst of speed. Outside, we could find trees, bushes, caves. Places to hide. We would be safer.

We came to a stop before a small wooden door, which stood partially open, and approached cautiously, unsure of where we were or who was around. When I pulled the door open, though, nothing but a wave of bright light entered. We were free.

Mostly.

Tree roots and vines as thick as my arms covered the small opening. The tunnel ended in the side of a hill, and must have been all but invisible through the thick crop of juniper trees and scrub brush it hid behind. Unfortunately, that same brush had grown across the opening, leaving only hand-sized holes in the doorway.

I couldn't believe it. We'd come this far, escaped Dresden's castle and the threat of torture, were on our way to finding Doc, and now we had to fight roots and vines? We didn't have time to delay–Dresden's soldiers were right on our tracks, coming up behind us in the tunnel. They'd be here in a matter of minutes, and we needed to be gone by then. I pulled the dagger
from my pocket and started hacking at the vines, desperate to get through. Tatiana helped, pulling at the vines as they loosened until we had a hole large enough to fit our bodies. We crawled through the thorn bushes, vines, and broken roots, stopping only when we found ourselves outside, standing on the edge of a dense wood. I looked back, trying to find the door we'd just passed through, and shook my head. I couldn't see the hill itself, much less the tunnel or door. I wondered vaguely how far we'd come, and where we were now.

“Now what?” Tatiana asked, breaking into my thoughts. “Those soldiers are going to be here in a moment.”

“Right,” I muttered. “Well we can't just stand around here, that's for sure. Tatiana, you and I are on our way to Bosworth, quick as we can get there. William–”

“Is coming with you,” the man broke in, throwing me a look that dared me to argue. “If what you say is true, my brother is most likely already there. It's imperative that I find him and tell him everything. Our world may be counting on it.”

“What about Paul and Reis?” Tatiana asked.

I noticed that she had left Katherine out, but ignored it. “We can't worry about them right now. If Reis is as good as I think he is, they've already escaped on their own. With luck, they're with Doc as we speak.”

A shot echoed out of the tunnel then and I whirled toward William. “If you're coming with us, can you act as our guide?”

William nodded, already bouncing on the balls of his feet with the need to be gone. Another shot sounded from the tunnel behind us, the bullet tearing through the trees above my head, and I grabbed his arm.

“Then lead the way, Will, we're wasting time!”

We stayed as close to the road as we dared, cautious of travelers and
soldiers alike. If we heard anyone on the road, we darted farther into the woods to avoid being caught. I hoped that Dresden's soldiers had lost us in the woods around the tunnel, but we couldn't be sure, and caution was a better plan than recklessness, though we needed to hurry. The longer we traveled, the more traffic we encountered. Families were moving away from the battle, while soldiers and mercenaries flowed toward it. For the first time, I began to understand what people meant when they said a battle was brewing. The air around us almost boiled with the tension of the coming fight, the noise of the soldiers filtering constantly through the trees around us.

We walked deep into the night, using my flashlight to show us the way, and pausing for rest only when we couldn't go on. The men on horseback may have been able to stop for the night, but we were on foot, and had a slightly tighter deadline than those men. We had to get to Doc, and quickly. I didn't know how much farther we had to travel, but I did know that we had to get to Bosworth soon. Dresden had sent orders to have Doc killed, and it was due to happen within the next day.

Around midnight, everything changed. We were walking down the middle of the road, too exhausted for caution, when the soldiers came thundering around the turn behind us, bearing torches, swords, and large, heavy bows.

My thoughts raced through the shocking turn of events, keeping pace with the horse under me as we thundered up the road to Bosworth. The soldiers–much to my surprise and relief–had been with William's cousin Phillip, son to the baron of Cheshire. Against all odds, they had been friends rather than enemies.

This surprising news was followed quickly by further glad tidings. Phillip was going to give us horses. And a guide by the name of Michael of Cabarus, to take William's place. Our erstwhile friend and guide was going to continue on with his cousin, in his own race to reach his brother before the battle.

After a brief rest, we now found ourselves mounted on war horses–again–and racing toward the fight we'd been hoping to avoid. Again. With men
we didn't know, but had been assured we could trust. At this new pace, I thought, we might get to Doc within hours. And Michael had already told us that he knew the Earl of Oxford's position, and would have no trouble locating him.

We were going to make it. For the first time in what felt like years, I allowed myself the luxury of believing that we were almost to the end of our journey. And that we'd be successful.

Then it hit me. My legs turned to jelly and all the air rushed out of my lungs. I doubled over on the horse, gasping for breath, and tried to slow the animal. Before I could stop it completely, I was falling to the ground, darkness rushing in on me. A hazy gold glow appeared at the edges of the darkness, and a humming burned through my veins.

The
stones
, I thought. The humming…

Then all thought was lost to the vision.

Fog, deeper than I'd seen on my journey, lay thick above the forest floor, making its way lazily through the trees and low-lying brush. An old soldier, wearing a blue cape that only partially concealed a shimmering coat of mail, gently guided his large gray and white horse through the undergrowth. He was meandering, unhurried. Out for a casual stroll, then, his face lost in deep thought. Completely unaware of his surroundings.

I gasped as I recognized the tilt of the head, the Roman nose, and the stubborn chin. I knew this man. The old soldier was Doc.

Looking to the side, I saw three men, less than 30 feet away from the old soldier, creeping slowly toward him. Each of them was armed, one with a long bow, another with an axe, and the last with a sword. They crept on their bellies, rising up to stand behind trees when they came across them, and sending each other quiet hand signals. They were hunting, I realized; deliberately stalking their prey. And their target was my grandfather.

“Behind you!” I shouted suddenly, desperate to warn Doc. He didn't see them, didn't know they were there. He had no idea that there was a plot against him. No clue that there were assassins in the quiet trees around him.

It was happening, and I was too late to save him.

“Doc!” I shouted again, my voice as jagged as broken glass. But my words fell on deaf ears. After all, the thought came, I wasn't actually in the clearing with him. My body–and my voice–was somewhere far away. The stones had only brought my consciousness.

Doc brought his horse to a stop in a clearing now, and stared into the forest, his back turned to the men who would try to kill him. He had no clue–no warning that they were there.

And there was nothing I could do.

I tried to turn my head, close my eyes so that I wouldn't see what happened next. But the stones wouldn't allow it. When I closed my eyes, the scene appeared in my mind. When I turned my head, the scene swung with me to remain in my vision. There was no escaping it.

As I watched, the bowman stopped moving forward, took a knee, and strung an arrow, then stood slowly up beside the trunk of a young maple tree. He drew back his string, paused for an agonizingly long moment, and released the arrow with a sharp twang. It hit my grandfather and stuck. The impact ripped Doc's body off the horse's back and to the ground, where he rolled to the base of a tree to lay motionless in the tall, damp grass. I felt the vision mercilessly begin to recede then, but not before I glanced down at the pocket watch in my hand. I was surprised–I hadn't remembered bringing it with me into the vision. Now, though, I saw that it was 6:23PM, August 21. It wasn't going to happen on the morning of the 22nd, as I had hoped. It was going to happen tonight.

I had less than twelve hours to get to Doc and save him.

My eyes flew open to find Tatiana kneeling beside me, the early morning light glowing behind her. I closed my eyes again, trying to fit myself back into my body, then jumped to my feet.

“What happened?” Tatiana asked, confused. “Are you okay?” Michael was off his horse next to her, his face concerned.

I shook my head, dismissing that question. “That doesn't matter. We have to go. Now.”

Tatiana frowned. “We
are
going, Jason. We were just leaving when you–”

I waved that off as well. “Okay, well we need to go faster. We have twelve hours to get to Doc's camp, or the jig is up.” I turned to Michael, who had been assigned to guide us.

“How quickly can you get us to Bosworth?” I snapped. My voice sounded intense, even to me, and I swallowed the rest of the sentence.

He shrugged. “Perhaps by sundown, if we ride hard.”

I was already striding toward my horse and motioning Tatiana to hers. “Then we ride as hard as we can. In twelve hours, Doc will be dead, and I'm not going to let that happen.”

33

W
e traveled without rest for several hours, stopping only at noon for the sake of the horses. I was beyond exhausted and sore, though I'd become more comfortable on a horse than I'd ever thought possible. We'd gone days without truly sleeping, and I was beginning to see double, but we pressed on after a short rest. We had little to no time, and a long way to ride.

Luckily, we were able to stay on easy paths and roads, avoiding the forests and fields around us. Michael and his men had a clear idea of where we were heading, and assured me that we were taking the most direct route. We saw few people in the farms and villages we passed, and experienced no trouble with those we did see. This surprised me until Tatiana noted the obvious.