Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) (38 page)

Tyrell still flew to my left, close enough for easy conversation. We stayed quiet, though. The captain had told me that a rifled musket could plunk us even at this height, and so could a lot of other scary weapons he’d only hinted at. Who might be shooting at us wasn’t mentioned. I knew from seeing the Bullies that the Merchantry seemed to have changed its mind about waiting for me in London. That is, unless those corrupted mages on the hill were working with one of the rebel groups instead of the home office. Who employed those frightening three masked men was anybody’s guess. Not to mention those persistent ravens. From the way Romulus talked the Merchantry had its own civil war going on, except there were a lot more than just two sides. The first chance I got I wanted to pin him down on specifics. Knowing who chased after me and just what they wanted would be an advantage.

And what about Tyrell? The Stone had gone cold twice when he’d been around. Coincidence? The Pluto’s Bane fellows had been there, too, both times. At Boatswain Swamp those Bullies would’ve frozen it. What did it say now that we were alone up here? The brief look I’d had of it when Tyrell’d showed it to me hadn’t helped. Too far away and too dark.
But he rescued you back there, sure enough. And he says he’s gonna return the Stone. Does that make him an enemy? And the Stone didn’t raise the alarm all those earlier days he traveled with us. What’s it all mean, then?

I gave up thinking about it for a while and tried to enjoy the peace and quiet. Soon, though, I got to thinking that it seemed a bit too silent. No Jasper chattering away in my head. Just my own sorry thoughts. Would he still be there if and when I got the Stone back? Did the ravens or their master undo the magick somehow? That’d be the end of us if they had. I decided that if I got him back I’d give him any favor he asked to get some questions answered. Well, any reasonable favor. I wasn’t too sure about his singing minstrel songs for three hours again. That’d been one long afternoon on the road, believe me.

My angels and I kept on our way southeast. The great winged horses showed no signs of needing a rest or sleep or food. I needed to eat, having been too busy running for my life to get dinner. Munching on crackers and an apple, I felt loads better. Things were looking up after six dreadful days. Tyrell said we’d get to the coast before dawn. Assuming we found the
Penelope’s Kiss
without too much trouble, and assuming nobody ambushed us again, and assuming I didn’t just fall over dead from the shock of success, we might be on our way to London in a few hours.

We.
That reminded me that there looked to be less ‘we’ than before. Where were Roberta and Ernie? Hadn’t seen hide or hair of them since before the ambush. Did the Bullies get them? Were they just lost? Did they know that Romulus and I had taken to the air?
I’m gettin’ into a bad habit of losin’ folks lately. Ma, Eddie, Jasper, Roberta, Ernie. Careless, careless, careless.
We needed to come up with a plan for situations like this. Either a way to communicate or a way to meet up when we got separated.
That ought to be easy enough, with all this magick about.
Our enemies sure enough seemed to have figured it out. They always stayed a step ahead of us. I’d started to get real tired of that.

Nothing for it but to keep going and hope for the best. I lost track of the time as we raced through the summer sky. It felt blessed cool after days of sweltering June heat and humidity. Even Wednesday’s rain hadn’t cut the warmth, just made it more sultry.
This is nice. Maybe I can get me one of these fancy horsies.Feed him apples and whatever it is that makes their angel wings grow. Some candy? Divinity, maybe.

I swear I didn’t fall asleep. Fear of slipping off the horse sure prevented that. The dream came anyway, while I stayed full awake. Not the whole dream, just vivid snippets, and some new things. It ran quicker than usual, like time sped up. The three masked troublemakers, swords in their gloved hands, ran along a high telegraph wire as if it were a patch of flat ground. Tyrell and his cavalry comrades were dug into the beach of skulls and defended against an attack of charging foot soldiers. But the infantry didn’t wear Union uniforms. They looked to be from a lot of different times. Napoleon’s Old Guard, knights from the Middle Ages, even elephants of Mughal Raj. Ma skipped along the edge of the water in a Royal Navy tar’s uniform, smiling and waving. In the air above the ocean, with the pirate ship on the horizon, my writing woman sat, cross-legged, scribbling letters onto clouds. She spelled out CROATAN. As soon as she’d inked the last line that word spun like water going down a drain and plummeted toward the waves. Before it could get there the giant whale leaped out of the water and gulped it down. The enormous splash it made wiped out the whole image and just like that I stared at the stars between my horse’s ears.

Shaking my head, I sucked in the cool night air and tried to make sense of it.
Stranger and stranger. And while I’m awake, too.
Some parts I thought I could grasp. Either the assassins somehow used telegraph wires to move quick or it served as a dream symbol for the way they did it. The historical armies might be Merchantry mercenaries from other lands. Their twisted dark magick could make that happen. CROATAN just made me ache more for Ma than I was doing already.
Am I doing the right thing leaving her to her fate and followin’ Eddie?
North Carolina lay just a little ways to the south. Maybe we could do a quick detour if we got to Roberta’s ship. But why was she dressed like a Britannic sailor, of all things? No one would believe it as a disguise, not for a second. Ma could do a lot of amazing things, but passing for a man? Not a chance. And that whale?
Beats me. Maybe it’s symbolic of all the blubberin’ I’ve been doing.

Try as I might, I still couldn’t get a clear view of the writer’s face. Assuming she created the dreams, she must have had some kind of magical foreknowledge of events, since they always came true. Either that, or she could actually make things happen. That’d be pretty powerful stuff.
Sure hope she’s on our side if it’s so.

I couldn’t sort it all out a hundred percent, but I was willing to bet that we’d have plenty of trouble before we could get onto that ship. Too many folks wanted to stop us. Having Jasper, Roberta, and Ernie back would make things a lot easier. Otherwise it was just down to me, Romulus, and a bunch of Rebs on Pegasus ponies.

From my high vantage point I could see the first glowings of dawn ahead. Squinting, my no longer witched eyes spotted the edge of the land. Beyond lay the Atlantic, smooth and inviting. Each minute brought us more light and a better view of the coast. Our faces turned pink with the first peeking of the sun. After my dreadful night that sunrise cheered me like I’d just gotten a reprieve from the hangman. Soon the day arrived in all its warm golden splendiferousness. I could see all manner of ships in the water, especially six or eight miles off to our right around Hampton Roads, where the Union Navy sailed in and out of the mouth of the James. Mostly wilderness lay below us, with a couple of isolated villages here and there. Soon we’d be over the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. The last we’d heard, a week ago, the
Penelope’s Kiss
had hidden herself near Cape Charles, the point of land straight across the bay. No telling if she was still there now. With all of the changes in the strategic situation around Richmond, hard telling what McClellan planned on doing with his great Army and Navy. Pitcairn’s ship might’ve been flushed out of her inlet refuge. They may have had to run away or been captured. Or worse.
Guess we’ll find out soon enough.

I figured we were going to fly across the water, but Tyrell pointed down toward a tiny clearing in the woods instead. All eleven winged horses nosed gently toward the ground as if they had one mind. Before I knew it we’d touched down with no more bump than you’d feel stepping out of your own bed. Stiff and sore from a whole night astride my mount, not to mention from all the other bumps, bruises, and indignities, I slid to the ground like a hunk of wood. Right into a mud puddle. We’d landed in a swampy area. It took a long while before I could walk like a human. None of the Rebs seemed to feel a thing after eight hours in the saddle. Glancing at Romulus, it made me glad, in an ornery way, that he looked a little creaky, too. As if just noticing that he stood amidst a cluster of Confederates, the ex-slave hurried his mount off away from the rest of the group. The miraculous horses shook all over like drenched dogs, then their lovely wings just melted into them like icicles in July. In the blink of an eye they had returned to appearing like any other herd the Reb cavalry might have.

“Can’t run on wings in daylight,” Tyrell explained. He let Alcibiades drink from a pool of dark water. “Real risky. There’s a Yankee brigade only three miles south of here. William Phelps’ men. Served in the Old Army with him.” Al snorted, spraying water on us. “Lost too many of these beauties last night as it is. Norns won’t be happy.”

I felt my hands itching for the Stone, but didn’t want to look grabby. “Norns?”

“Valkyries, some call them. They escort the valorous dead to Valhalla, the Norse afterlife. We bargained for the use of their steeds.”

I let out a little laugh. “So they’re real, too.”

“In Scandia they are, anyway. Ever since the Affluxion twelve years ago.”

“Affluxion? What’s that? I’m guessin’ it’s some sort of calamity?”

The captain pointed to the tree line. Everyone began leading their horses in that direction. “It has a great many names, depending on the point of view of who’s talking. You know, for a Stone-Warden you haven’t been well-taught about this.”

So much for my grand disguise. Eddie would laugh his head off. “So I fooled you with my Mary Williams story for how long, exactly?”

He smiled and rubbed my head, hat and all. “Never, I’m afraid.”

“Shoot. I spent a lot of effort thinkin’ up all o’ that.”

We left the clearing and walked into the shade of the woods. The troopers tied their horses to trees and began feeding and grooming them. Hoof picks and curry combs came out. So did apples and sugar cubes.
Nice to know that even the mounts of the gods like treats.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Tyrell said, pulling Al’s saddle off. “If it makes you feel any better, I was looking for you and your Marshal. I’d been sent to escort you here.”

“Sent? By who?” I’d figured he was no ordinary Confederate soldier, but what his exact mission might be had me stumped.

He reached inside his jacket and took out the Legacy Stone. “Before we get to that, maybe you’d better take this back. Having it makes me nervous.”

I practically snatched the fingers from his hand. Dangling the Stone by its broken silk cord, I grinned.
My Stone! Jasper!
The instant I touched it the world changed. Everything became brighter, louder, better. I could smell the soap Tyrell had last used. Whispered conversations a hundred feet away felt like they were next to me. Much of my aches and pains faded to a tolerable dullness. My mood grew happier, less anxious.
Who needs that horrid whiskey when I’ve got you?

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared!” giggled Jasper. “Shall we plan a long engagement or just elope?”

“You just reminded me why boys are icky,” I said out loud.

Tyrell’s eyebrows shot up and the corner of his handsome mouth twitched. “Miss Verity, you sure can charm a man who gives you gifts,” he muttered.

Oops.
“Oh, I wasn’t talkin’ to you, I was talkin’ to…uh, never mind.” I switched to thought, but turned away from the Reb anyway. “I feared you might be gone forever.”

Jasper made a
ppfft
sound. “All on account of a silly raven? Come to think of it, he’s the one who’s gone forever. You’d think that a trained thief bird would know to watch out for flying Valkyrie horses when he’s on a mission.”

“I’d have expected it to be mentioned on the first day of Evil Avian Saboteur School.”

“Me, too. Right along with Don’t Accept An Assignment During Huntin’ Season.”

I examined the cord, sliced by the late bird’s beak. “Then again, maybe my trainer should’ve told his new Stone-Warden to invest in a good steel chain.”

“Naw. I believe in throwin’ the baby bird right outta the nest. That’s the only way to learn to fly.”

Tying the cord with a tight knot, I turned back around to watch the horses being tended to. “Not true, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I learned to fly on a winged stallion.”

Jasper took on a wistful tone. “And after that, can puberty be far behind?”

“Huh?”

“I did some research. Hoo, boy! But never you mind. What now?”

I froze, because the Stone had. Or rather, it had stayed cold ever since last night. It glowed bright red, too. My fingers jumped away from it. “We got a problem. Dark magick’s about.”

“At six in the mornin’? I thought evil forces tended to sleep in.”

“No, I think they work for Pinkerton’s. ‘We Never Sleep’ could be their motto, too.” Allan Pinkerton, the famous detective who’d stopped a plot to kill Mr. Lincoln the year before, spied on the Rebs for McClellan. Must’ve been the war’s worst-kept secret.

Tyrell stood just a few feet away, peering at one of Al’s hooves. As an experiment I walked in a loop around all of the other eight troopers. The farther I got from the captain, the warmer and duller my Stone got.
Oh-oh.I was right all along.
Then why’d he return it? To throw me off the scent? To let some other unholy beastie do his dirty work later on? Sighing, I returned to him, feeling the Stone chill again, and thought of a way to test it further.

“Fellow over there wants you, Cap’n,” I told him, pointing to a sergeant who squinted at his bridle. The man stood on the opposite side of our patch of woods, a good seventy feet away.