The Legend Thief (5 page)

She was in her natural habitat, perfectly comfortable amidst the avalanche. Sky, though, was far from comfortable. He backed away-there was no way through, and the cave-in was just getting started. He pressed his Hunter's Mark to the ground and shouted in Earthspeak:
Nackles, my friends might be trapped! Please find them, get them out!

Nackles spun around and seemed surprised to see him still there. She began punching the wall, responding in Earthspeak, her words coming through amidst random noise.

I will help-YOU RUN!

Sky ran. As the collapse began to spread out from the crossroads, chunks of earth fell from the ceiling, battering him. He reeled to and fro, stumbling and dodging as he raced through the tunnels for the exit at Ernaline's tomb. He threw his shoulders against the stone tile and crawled up and out into the dark stone room.

The floor collapsed around him, and he leaped from tile to tile. Ernaline's stone coffin cracked and fell apart. Sky rolled out of the way, remembering thankfully that the coffin was empty, as they'd never found Ernaline's body.

As the broken sarcophagus sank into the ground, Sky latched onto it and launched himself across an impossible gap. He hit the other side hard and scrambled for the door, shooting through and out as the tomb toppled in on itself.

He raced north as the earth continued to sink around him. He ran and ran until the ground stopped trembling and the rumbling stopped rumbling. When he turned around, he saw something that made him cry out: The entire east cemetery had collapsed into the earth. All that remained were a few scattered tombstones, some broken statues, and a hole as deep as an open grave.

Sky wiped tears from his eyes and started running north even though every part of him wanted nothing more than to race back and find his friends and make sure they'd survived. But that was exactly what he couldn't do, not without endangering them all over again, not without first taking care of the hunters. He had to trust that Nackles would get them out. He couldn't give in to his fears. Not now.

Sky pulled two cans of Fog from his backpack as he slipped into the woods, racing toward his traps and the Sleeping Lands. Too many had died for him already. The entire east cemetery was littered with the bodies of hunters who'd died protecting him when he was just a baby, and now even those bodies were gone. Phineas, Errand, Andrew's mother and father, even Crystal's mother, Cassandra, who'd disappeared near Skull Valley years ago while looking for answers about Sky-all gone now.
And for what?
For some stupid marks on his hand?

Sky just couldn't lose anyone else. C1ystal. Andrew.
T-Bone.
Hands.
They'd spent months tired and upset with one another, and it all seemed so stupid now. They were his best friends, the first real friends he'd had that weren't related to him or imaginary, or imaginarily related to him. They'd be okay. Nackles would get them out. She would. He had to believe that.

He replaced the used cans on his Fogger and reached out for the Piebalds. He found one sitting on a branch nearby, watching him. The bird seemed bigger than the others he had seen, and older somehow-more scarred, some of its black feathers gray with age.

The strange Piebald swooped after him. "What's your name?" Sky asked.

"CAW."

"Fred?" said Sky, confused. "What kind of a Piebald name is that?"

"CAW!"

"All right, all right," said Sky, holding up his hands, "I get it! You're not from around here. I'm sure Fred's a fine Piebald name where you come from." Sky tossed the Piebald a cracker from his pocket, but the bird turned up its beak and the cracker dropped to the ground. Sky had never met a Pie bald that didn't like crackers before, especially the uniquely disgusting phosphorescent kind Andrew and Hands made from super explosive distilled urine.

Before he could wonder too much, a murder of Piebalds arrived and snatched up the cracker amidst a flurry of wings and snapping beaks.

"I need eyes," said Sky, throwing more crackers.

The murder squawked at him and then took off. Sky slung his backpack over his shoulders, where it rested snugly between his ICE containers. He adjusted his cloak and continued jogging roughly northwest. He'd planned to get the hunters' attention so he could lure them away from the manor; he was pretty sure he had it now, and more than he wanted.

Fred flew next to him, ignoring the other Piebalds. Sky didn't have the time or focus to edgewalk into the Piebalds to see through their eyes, which meant he'd have to rely on their judgment and verbal warnings, a terrifying prospect in its own right.

"CAW!" a Piebald screeched.

Sky dove to the side and an arrow struck a tree beside him, just missing his head.

Sky stared at the quivering black arrow, heart pounding.

The arrow began to smoke, and black lines-like veins-spread through the tree, and then it crumbled to ash.

A shout went up behind him. Sky gulped, switched on his Fogger, and hit his jetpack like Jumpers. He shot through the air, leaving a massive cloud of Fog in his wake. A giant tree branch rose in front of him and he bounced off of it and onto the next, and the next, canvassing the area as arrows whizzed past. He heard traps snapping below and hunters screaming and yelling. With a final leap to a lower branch, he plunged back to the ground and rolled amidst the blue light of his Shimmer. Then he veered from the path and started running in earnest.

He definitely had their attention.

More arrows whizzed past. He crashed through the under growth, jumped a log, and rolled to the side. The trap sprung and the hunter behind him dropped into a pit.

Sky scrambled to his feet and kept running. He hop scotched through a clearing as his Fog petered out. Hunters dove at him with knives and swords. Logs swung down from trees, knocking hunters to the sides. Saplings sprang from the ground, tangling the hunters in knots, and still more hunters vaulted into the air as slabs of spring-loaded bark exploded and vines dragged them away.

Stinging Lizzies, double bogies, and dozens of other traps Phineas had taught him sprang up, snatching the hunters. But for every one caught, two more appeared.

Sky sprinted down a hill and crashed through a small creek.

On the other side, the ground leveled and grew mushy.

A hunter dropped out of a tree in front of him, eyes glowing green.

"Whoa!" Sky faked right. The hunter took a step and a vine closed around first one ankle and then the other, yanking the hunter crotch first into a tree-Montezuma's revenge, one of Uncle Phineas’ favorite traps. Sky raced past, heart pounding. He heard more traps going off behind him and to the sides.

Piebalds called out warnings from above, steering him away from the larger groups. For a moment he thought he saw Chase Shroud rushing through the trees to his right, but then the hunter veered off and sped away, leaving Sky perplexed and, if possible, even more frightened.

Sky hit his Core, and the Pounder slid into his hand. He raced along an old animal trail, lengthening his lead. A year of running from monsters had made him fast.
Very fast.
Hopefully fast enough.

Another green-eyed hunter leaped at him. Sky shot her with the Pounder, driving her back into a trap. He took out two more, racing on.

Ancient trees stretched out above him, blocking the moonlight. He navigated his way across the swampy ground and into the craggy, tombstone-covered moors that marked the beginning of the north cemetery, the border of the Sleeping Lands. Old and flooded hunter tombs leading to underground family crypts lay scattered ahead, rising from the bog.

"CAW!" the Piebalds warned, but Sky was too slow and a hunter tackled him from the shadows, pinning him in the mud. As he struggled to get free, he caught a glimpse of a slightly older boy with blond hair, high cheekbones, and puffy lips.

"Crenshaw?"
Sky sputtered in amazement. Last year Crenshaw and his cronies-Reo (T-Bone's brother), Cordelia, Marcus, and Alexis-had made a pact with the child-eating Wargarou and become giant, wolf like Shadow Wargs. They'd tried to kill Sky. Since then, most of the cronies had left him alone, but Crenshaw still blamed Sky for the death of his mother-a hunter who'd died when the Arkhon had attacked twelve years earlier. Crenshaw picked fights with Sky whenever he thought he could get away with it; in other words,
all the time.

Fortunately, Crenshaw wasn't a Shadow Warg anymore, thanks to Ursula. Unfortunately, he was still bigger and stronger than Sky.

Crenshaw smiled at him. "You're done for, Sky. Morton sought me out personally to track you down tonight, and I'm not the only one."

"Malvidia's not going to be happy when she finds out you sided against her," said Sky, probing to see if Crenshaw knew anything of Malvidia's allegiance; his entire plan hinged on her. "Sided against her? You have no idea what you're talking about," Crenshaw spat. "I finally get to kill you, and the

Hunters of Legend will call me a hero for doing it!"

A long silvery knife flashed into Crenshaw's hand. Sky raised the Pounder and Crenshaw sliced through the recently repaired hoses before he could shoot. Compressed gasses rushed out, spraying into Crenshaw's face.

Crenshaw raised his hands to block the spray. Fred swooped down, clawing and thrashing at Crenshaw with his wings.

Sky rolled and threw his feet out, launching Crenshaw into the nearby swamp water. Vines exploded upward, trapping Crenshaw in a watery net.

Sky jumped to his feet and started running again, troubled on so many levels. If Malvidia and the Exile hunters were really helping Morton, what chance did he have?

He passed the first tomb, a large, gaudy entrance to Crenshaw's forgotten family crypt, the perfect place for Crenshaw to lurk. The epitaph on the Argrave tomb simply read: ARGRAVE IS YOUR
GRAVE .

He moved past, running deeper into the Sleeping Lands or, more accurately, Nasty Dead-Hunter Soup, the one-time burial lands of the hunters before the swamps had come and the land itself had chewed up the dead and spit them out.

Hunters were closing in. Sky could hear them all around him now, slogging through the swamp.

Sky leaped across a bog, trying not to imagine what kinds of fetid flesh floated beneath the surface. At some point, maybe ten years ago, maybe a hundred for all he knew, the Vulpine River a few miles west had overflowed its bounds, creating the swamps and washing away grave sites. Whether because of the icy waters, or because of some long-forgotten preservation ritual performed upon the dead, many of the bodies were miraculously well pickled. With the topsoil washed away,
these coffin
less dead, these ancient hunters stared out of the water with sightless eyes and graying flesh.

Though Sky had now visited the Sleeping Lands many times, he couldn’t help but fear that with each leap, he would feel a gnarled hand on his ankle, waiting to drag him down to join the dead in their eternal frozen slumber.

As if maniacal hunters bent on killing him weren't bad enough.

Shivering, Sky raced after the Piebalds.

His traps-meant to keep the worst of the monsters away from Exile-were nearly spent, and Sky felt weary to the bone. Adrenaline and a year of one of the worst exercise routines imaginable were the only things keeping him on his feet.

Ahead, sitting on a small island in the middle of a swampy wasteland, he saw a gigantic gnarled tree bristling with green needles, and he knew he was nearly there.

Sky ditched his cloak and gear as he ran-everything but his waterproof, fire-retardant backpack-and then dove into the stagnant water and swam deep beneath the surface, past corpse after corpse in this, the most disturbing part of the Sleeping Lands. Arrows zipped by, trailing bubbles.

Sky
dove
deeper, skirting tombstones, mausoleums, broken statues, and the bodies of hunters long dead who drifted with the waves and watched him with milky, indifferent eyes.

An arrow landed in the chest of the corpse next to him, a man with only half a face, the other half whittled to the moldy-green bone. The corpse rolled with the impact and drifted backward in the water, its arms rising up as if to grab Sky. A sightless white eye stared out of the man's broken face. On the corpse's forehead, Sky thought he saw another Eye, black and scarred, spilling inky darkness into the water: the Eye of Legend.

Freezing pain, answering
darkness,
and tarlike blood erupted from the matching Eye on Sky's palm.

The corpse smiled at him.

Sky screamed and bubbles exploded from his mouth Bedlam had found him, just as the hunters predicted.

Water froze around Sky, above him, frozen by the cold and terrible darkness spilling from the Eyes, and he could feel Bedlam pressing at his mind. Sky swam frantically to stay ahead of the ice and grew disoriented in
a blackness
so deep that even his eyes couldn't penetrate it. Laughing corpses lurched into his path. He swatted them away and left them in his wake. His lungs burned; his skin froze. Finally his feet touched bottom and he sprang upward, crashing through the ice. With scrambling hands, he dragged himself onto the small island and collapsed in the mud, shaking uncontrollably.

Dead faces stared up at him, laughing and locked within the dark ring of frozen swamp that spread out from the island and reached halfway to the far shore. He saw the half-faced man far away near the ice's
edge,
just beneath the surface yet seemingly close enough to touch-the half face a rictus of frozen laughter, and Sky could hear the corpse, in his head, laughing still.
And laughing.
And laughing still.

Living, grim-faced hunters clambered out of the swamp waters and burst out of the ice, creeping ever closer as Sky fought to push Bedlam from his mind.

The cold moved through Sky- his body, his blood-reaching for his heart, clasping at his mind. He pushed at it, wrestling it like a living thing, fighting to keep the darkness away.