Mystic (30 page)

He cut into the forest, moving with alarming speed and agility. Pomella stared after him. Shite and blather, this better be worth the time! Gritting her teeth, Pomella followed. She was taking an awful risk, and likely further endangering both Yarina and Sim. But she needed help, and right now Vlenar and this other ranger were her only chance.

She trudged through dense forest, walking across soggy underbrush left over from last autumn and winter, or even earlier. Her guiding stone trailed behind her, waiting for her to return her attention to it. After a few minutes, Vlenar slowed to a tiptoe, hand ready on his sword.

Pomella crouched and followed in the same way. “Do you think there's a way we can free Ox?” she whispered.

Vlenar cut her off with a sharp gesture. Pomella obeyed and waited. The laghart paused beside a tree and became as still as a stone. For several long minutes he waited. Pomella grew uncomfortable with his stillness. She forced herself to stop fidgeting.

Just as she was about to risk another low whisper to ask what the skivers they were waiting for, she heard something. It sounded like a person muttering to himself. The voice sounded male.

A horse snorted and jangled his reins. Pomella tried to peer ahead, but couldn't see anything.

Suddenly Vlenar moved, flowing like water out of his stance. He ran from behind the tree with his sword drawn. Pomella blinked, then hitched up her torn skirt and ran to keep up.

She passed gnarled trees she suspected hadn't seen a live person in decades, then burst into a clearing and stopped short. A horse and a wagon rested beside a smoldering campfire. Vlenar stood in a wide stance, his reptilian legs squared as he held his sword against a captive man.

The man had pale skin and a bald head. A black beard grew on his square chin, but his cheeks were shaved clean. He was on his knees, with his hands behind his head.

“Don't hurt me, please,” he begged. “The ranger is unharmed. She's over in the wagon.”

Vlenar caught Pomella's eye. He nodded toward the wagon.

Catching his meaning, Pomella hustled over to where he had indicated. Quiet shadows lurked everywhere. The wagon looked normal enough, but for some reason, its heavy iron structure repelled her. She pulled her cloak close again, making sure not to touch anything.

On the far side, chained to the wheel spoke, was a woman with skin as brown as her own, slashed with black stripes. Pomella caught her breath. She'd heard of the virga people, but finding one chained up as a prisoner was a shock.

“Wh-who are you?” she asked.

The virga woman scrambled to her feet. “Look out!”

Pomella whirled around. A large woman with braided blond hair, her raised arm holding a cudgel, screamed and charged Pomella.

Without thinking, Pomella spun out of the way just as the blow ripped past her. She stumbled, but caught herself against the wagon just as the woman recovered from her initial swing. Pomella's heart thundered. Who was this beast of a woman?

The attacker grunted and stormed toward her. Pomella scrambled away, but tripped and landed in the dirt.

A blur of brown and green flashed, and Vlenar was there, his sword knocking the cudgel away. He punched the woman in the chest and side of the head, then spun away as she doubled over. He locked into a guard stance, and flicked a forked tongue.

“Shite and blather!” Pomella said, staring wide-eyed at Vlenar. “That was amazing!”

“Took you long enough,” the virga woman sneered, grinning at Vlenar.

The laghart ranger turned his slitted eyes toward her. “Your captorsss hid themssselvvvves by iron, Rochhhhella.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

The bald man who had been working the camp appeared from around the wagon. He ran over to the large woman crumpled on the ground. “Mags!”

“She'll be fine, Dox,” said Rochella. “Now get me out of these chains before I tell my humorless friend here to punch you up as well.”

Dox fumbled with a set of thick iron keys before unlocking her bindings. “I want to help,” he said, holding up both hands. “In Rardaria, I'm well known for my work as a blacksmith. Ohzem and the Black Claws took my family and forced me to forge all these strange manacles. I didn't know what they had planned, and I tried to help the boy, Sim. He looks … a lot like my Aden.”

Vlenar stared at him with slitted eyes. “Thennn why did you atttttack ussss?”

Dox grunted and looked at the unconscious woman in the dirt. “Mags doesn't talk much. I think she just did what Zicon told her.”

“Havvve you ssseen Zzzicon?” Vlenar asked.

Dox nodded. “I spied them coming off the mountain in the middle of the night. I'd hidden the wagons and horses while they were away 'cause I'd figured enough was enough. When I saw Sim wasn't with 'em, I snuck away. I know they wanted to look for me, but Ohzem said not to waste the time.”

“We don't have time to talk about this. The High Mystic Yarina is in danger,” said Pomella. In a rush, she explained what had occurred at the summit of MagDoon.

Rochella nodded, looking grim. “I wondered what all the iron forging was for, and I knew it couldn't be good.”

“Sim's hurt,” Pomella said. “He's still up in the cave, and he's dying. I know we need to warn Mistress Yarina, but please, we need to help him, too.”

Dox shook his head. “I should'a let that fool boy escape. Just had a feeling he'd get himself in trouble.”

“We'll split up,” Rochella said. “Vlenar, you can move faster through the forest. Go to the tower. I'll go to Sim. Perhaps I can figure out a way to free Oxillian.”

Vlenar nodded and streaked away, his powerful hind legs carrying him smoothly between the trees.

“What about me?” Pomella asked. “I want to return to Kelt Apar, too.”

“You won't get there very quickly on foot,” Rochella said.

“I can help,” Pomella insisted, although she had no idea
how
she could.

“Maybe so. But you won't get there in time to make a difference.”

“She can take Zicon's horse,” Dox said. “He's a fine Rardarian stallion and I think he'd love to stretch his legs.”

Pomella's face paled. The black horse nearby stamped his hoof. “Couldn't I ride one of those other brown ones? They look gentler.”

“If you need speed and power, you'll want the Rardarian,” Dox said.

“You've never ridden a horse before, have you?” Rochella asked.

“Fathir let me ride one once. In a circle. When I was ten.” Pomella winced.

“Well, it's time to learn. Just hold on.”

Dox unhooked the stallion from the tree he was tied to. “Up you go, girl,” Dox said, boosting Pomella up.

Sitting atop the horse, Pomella felt … well, tall.

“Keep to the western path,” Rochella said. “I'll return to the tower as soon as I can. If Yarina falls, take this horse south to Port Morrush. I'll look for you there.”

“Thank you,” Pomella said. She glanced at Dox and the large woman still lying unconscious in the dirt. “What about them?”

“Don't worry about me,” Dox said. “I won't cause trouble. Neither will Mags. I'll make sure of that.”

Dox rubbed his head and added, “If … I mean, when … you see Sim again, give him my best. Tell him I'm sorry I contributed to this mess.”

Pomella smiled as Dox draped her cloak across the back of the horse. He lifted her staff up to her. “I won't need that walking stick,” she told him.

“Oh, pardon then. I assumed it was your Mystic staff,” he said. Pomella's heart swelled. He'd assumed she was a Mystic! She could have kissed him.

“On second thought,” she said, “I'll keep it.”

Just as she took the staff, Rochella slapped the horse's rump and yelled, “To Kelt Apar!
Hi-yee!
”

The guiding stone shot down the trail, and Pomella's horse bolted after it.

 

SEVENTEEN

THE GUARDIAN

Pomella clutched the horse's reins so hard her knuckles whitened. The stallion galloped after the guiding stone that zoomed ahead of them like an arrow flying toward its mark, trailing silvery-green light. Pomella had no idea what else to do, so she leaned into the wind, nearly pressing her chin against the horse's mane.

The forest surged past her in blurring streaks of green and brown. The sun finally lifted above MagDoon, shining light across her back and onto the path ahead.

After only a handful of miles, her legs and thighs ached like never before. She clenched her jaw and buckled down for the long ride ahead. She
had
to make it back before it was too late. She wondered how long the horse could sustain his gallop.

“Don't blow your wind out, friend,” she said.

Whether the horse appreciated her words or not she'd never know, but they didn't seem to help. The poor thing slowed to a canter, then to a light trot. Before long, they moved at an exhausted limp.

“Come on,
please,
” Pomella pleaded, flicking the reins. “
Hi-yee!
”

But the horse just shook his mane and continued at his slow pace. Pomella growled in frustration. “Shite!” So much for her heroic return on her mighty galloping steed.

A voice called to her from the nearby trees. “Pomella?”

Pomella whirled in the saddle, her heart thundering. “Vivianna?”

The noblewoman stumbled onto the road. Pomella had never seen her so disheveled. Dirt caked her normally perfect dress and hair. She carried a long oak branch, presumably the one she'd found at the summit of MagDoon as part of her Trial. The other candidate's voice trembled. “Where'd you get the horse? Who gave it to you?”

“It's a long story,” Pomella said. “I need to get back to Kelt Apar. The High Mystic is—”

“No!” said Vivianna. “We have to get help. There's another Mystic and he has Mistress Yarina trapped in the central tower. He's trying to knock it down!”

Pomella's gut churned. She couldn't be too late. There had to be something she could still do.

“I know about the Mystic,” Pomella said. “He's trapped Ox up on top of MagDoon. I don't know what can be done, but I have to try. I'm returning to Kelt Apar with or without you.”

“We should find my entourage,” Vivianna said. “Or one belonging to the other candidates. They can help.”

“Do you know where they are?”

Vivianna bit her lip. “Not exactly.”

“Then there's no time. I'm going to the tower.” She flicked her horse's reins again, but this time he didn't even bother to move. “Jagged horse!”

“You're doing it wrong,” Vivianna said.

“Of course I'm doing it wrong!” Pomella snapped. “Everything I ever do is wrong, but at least I'm doing
something
. Now if you know how to make this horse run again, I'd appreciate the lesson.”

Vivianna stiffened. At first, Pomella thought she would turn her nose up and stalk into the forest. But instead the noblewoman chewed her lip and finally sighed.

“Here, let me get on behind you.”

With unexpected tenderness, Vivianna held her hand out to the Rardarian and approached. She murmured comforting words. Pomella gasped as she saw silvery vapors of Myst swirl from Vivianna's hands. A sprinkling of silver butterflies misted into view, fluttering their wings.

“You aren't very good with animals, are you?” Vivianna said. She used a soothing tone for the horse, but meant the words for Pomella. “It's a wonder you bonded with those hummingbirds.”

Within moments, Pomella felt the horse relax. Vivianna stroked his neck, and slid her way toward his rear. “What do you know about them?” Pomella said. She recalled Vivianna's jealous stares from the previous days.

Vivianna shrugged. “I'm good with animals. I've had fay pets since I was very young. But never a full bond like you have.” Quick as a luck'n, she swung herself onto the Rardarian's back, sitting behind Pomella.

Pomella wanted to ask more, but they had no time to waste on chatter. “Well, use your talents to make our friend take us to Kelt Apar.”

Vivianna heeled the horse. “You heard her,
hi-yee
!”

The horse tore away at a dead gallop. Pomella held tight and tried not to fall off. Hadn't she tried the “
hi-yee
” call? Someday, she was going to have to learn how to do that properly.

*   *   *

When they finally emerged from the forest and walked onto Kelt Apar's wide lawn, it was with renewed confidence.

A cool breeze washed over Pomella as she looked across the lawn toward the tower. A dread chill ran up her spine.

They were too late.

Zicon and Quentin stood before the central tower. Between them knelt Saijar and Lal. Both prisoners had their hands bound by iron behind their backs. Each wore a black gag and blindfold. Ohzem stood behind Lal, pushing the bottom of his iron staff into the gardener's back. Broon the dog barked and pulled against a chain tying him to a nearby willow tree.