Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (33 page)

"Take it easy Keely. I'm not going to hurt anybody." Brees glanced between the women. "I'm not sure how I'd stop either of you anyway."

She released the magic and stepped forward glaring. "What are you doing here?"

Brees's eyes widened. "What am I doing here? What are you doing in the emperor's private garden?"

She bit her lip. "I think you know."

"Let this go," Brees said. "Rebuilding the gate will lead the world to devastation."

"You sound so sure." She pointed toward the closed green door. "Did you hear their entire conversation?"

"I heard."

Slow heat simmered inside her. How could Brees stand before her so sanctimonious? So self-assured?

Keely shifted into human form and glanced between her and Brees. "You two try not to kill each other. I'm going to go kick the dirt around in this plant bowl."

"Thank you Keely," she said.

Keely shifted into a sparrow and fluttered away.

Brees tracked Keely's flight before turning to face her. "I followed Ormond here Danielle. I've known he was holding something back for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business."

Her vision flashed red. "Not my business? That conspiring weasel held a vile of antidote. Antidote that came from a heartwood tree." She balled her hands into fists and her body trembled. "It's more my business than yours."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then start talking. I'm all ears."

"I don't know where Dravin found the antidote, but I doubt he has a heartwood tree. He wouldn't have any idea how to refine the fruit or extract a usable antidote."

"Well, someone does. How else could it happen?"

"I don't have all the answers," Brees said.

"Then I'll find Dravin, and ask him myself."

"You can't charge into Dravin's home and demand answers," Brees said.

"Why not?"

"Because he'll kill you."

"I'd like to see him try."

"This isn't a game Danielle. What if you kill Dravin without discovering where he’s hiding the antidote?"

"I'll make him tell me."

"What if he doesn't? How much time will you waste? Stop for a second and think."

She wanted to scream, but Brees had a point. She clenched her jaw and dropped her gaze to the grass between her feet. "I'll not let this go," she said in a low whisper avoiding Brees's stare.

"I would've been disappointed if you had," Brees said.

Without looking up she spoke. "How could you lock me up and pledge your allegiance to an organization that would allow a pig like Ormond to lead them? How can you trust anything he says? You turned your back on me." Her voice quivered.

Brees's eyes softened and filled with pain. "There's more to the Brotherhood Danielle. Ormond doesn't speak for the centuries of members who came before him," Brees said. "Honorable men and women who wanted to keep the world safe. Men and women with values and a code of ethics. That's what the Brotherhood stands for."

"Values instilled by Trace and built on a heap of lies."

"Values my father held dear. My father was a good man Danielle."

She saw regret in Brees's eyes. She pointed toward the crystal ceiling high overhead. "Did you see the people worshiping on the rooftop? Did you see the mask their priest wore?"

Brees's face reddened. "You saw?"

"I saw. Why were they worshiping that...demon?"

Brees sighed. "The Gathering of the Emperor has existed for centuries. But, only the emperor's Chosen are called to worship. Trace forbids its practice from all others."

"You must've seen the drawing in Sir Alcott's ruins. Why would Trace form a religion that pays homage to a creature that put humans in chains?"

Brees held her gaze but said nothing.

"Why do you believe the Brotherhood isn't formed on the same heap of deception? Maybe, the truth is the exact opposite. Building the gate would lead to the world's salvation."

Brees's eyes turned cold. "It won't Danielle. Building the gate will bring ruin to the world. My father believed the proof irrefutable. So do I."

She held the shaman's gaze. "I'm sorry Brees. I'm sorry for your father and I'm sorry for you because I think Trace has led you all astray. I believe Lora knew better, and I'll take her word over Trace's. Unless you can show proof, I'll not stop until I find the last heartwood. Even if that journey leads to another world."

Brees's shoulders sagged. "I can't give you the proof Danielle, but it's wrong.”

"Trace wants to rebuild the gate himself. Examine his actions and you'll see."

"It looks bad. I'll admit," Brees said. "But, I believe in the Brotherhood's central tenant."

She wouldn't push. A lifetime had gone into shaping Brees's values. Change wouldn't come easy, and she didn't need to convince the shaman anyway. "What did Ormond and Dravin mean? Can you hold the emperor's power? I thought you said that wasn't possible."

Brees shrugged. "Trace claimed that only he can hold the orb's power."

"Or perhaps a boy born with the ability to take either a shaman or sorcerer's power?" She raised an eyebrow. "How many other obsith children have your gift?"

Brees shrugged. "I’ve never bothered to ask."

"Have you met another sorcerer or shaman who held the ability to take either power?"

"Not face to face," Brees said. “My father told me stories of others from the past.

"What did Ormond mean about a ceremony?" She said.

"I don’t know," Brees said. "I've never paid attention to sentinel business. I've preferred to go it alone."

"Sentinel business?"

"The elite shaman and sorcerers who serve the emperor. Most of them live here in Zen. They are the most powerful living channelers among us."

Brees might prove more powerful than them all. "I won't let you go into that nest of vipers alone."

"Danielle, I don't want you mixed up in this. I mean to clean up the Brotherhood, and removing Ormond from power is at the top of the list."

"What's your plan for tomorrow night? Are you going to enlist your sentinel friends?"

The shaman scowled. "That's a cheap shot." Brees shrugged. "I haven't given it much thought, but I'll figure something out."

She stifled a laugh and shook her head. "You'll have to do better than that. Is the orb here in the garden?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Ormond seems to think it's here."

She imagined Ormond held many secrets. Brees navigated dangerous waters. "I'm not going to let you face them alone."

Brees's eyebrow raised. "Your help is purely altruistic? You have no ulterior motive?"

Her face flushed. "Why can't it be both? I care about you. Isn't that enough? Besides, you saved my father when the first tree collapsed. I owe you."

Brees's eyes softened. "I can't let you build the portal Danielle."

"Then help me find the heartwood tree Trace hid in Zen," she said. "Besides, if we keep the orb away from Trace or his cronies, they can't build the gateway either."

"You make a good point."

"Keely and I will help you."

A thin smile crossed Brees's face. "Just you and Keely? Did you cross the desert alone?"

"Two others came with me," she muttered.

"Would one of those others be Jeremy?"

She nodded.

"How do you plan on getting Jeremy inside the palace?" Brees nodded toward the ventilation shafts riding high on the ceiling. "Unless you can shrink him to the size of a sparrow."

"I can't," she said. "But, we need him. You need him."

With arms folded, Brees held her gaze for a long moment without answering. "Have him meet me outside the palace walls before dusk tomorrow. I'll get him inside."

Keely fluttered from the nearest treetop and shifted into human form. "There's nothing here but a bunch of trees and flowers. Useless."

She glared at Keely. "Hey."

Keely shrugged. "Unless you can make a tree tell us where to find the orb of power. I can't find it here."

"We'll let Ormond lead us to it." Her stomach fluttered. Would she find the heartwood tree with it?

Keely glanced upward. "It's time to go Danielle. Arber and Jeremy will be on the rooftop soon."

She turned to face Brees. "Tomorrow night?"

Brees's expression turned grim. "Tomorrow night."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tarbin’s Goodbye

Twilight left the forest draped in macabre shadows. A forest with ever-thinning trees and loose flaky soil. A carpet of white mist blotted out the forest floor. Chattering cicadas and early-evening crickets crowed for supremacy.

Ronan inhaled. Dry air with a hint of moisture coiled through his nostrils. The earthen swamp had given way to the arid aroma of dry grass and strange new scents. He wouldn't miss the soggy bogs and ankle-deep marshes.

A dozen yards ahead, Tarbin paused beneath a steep bluff. The banther’s head angled upward as if surveying a possible ascent.

He'd grown used to Tarbin's guidance across the swamp. He would miss the banther's calming presence in the days to come. But, the world’s edge awaited where the Ruins of Mistros might heal his infected soul thread. What would happen if never came back? He pushed the thought aside.

Tarbin's staff plunged into the rich soil, brown and flaky like fresh coffee grounds. The banther leaned into the staff and ascended the eight-foot climb in three rapid steps.

He scrambled behind using his own make-shift walking stick. Loose soil churned under his fingers and slid away under his boots. What he wouldn't give for a hand up.

General Demos leaped, more than climbed, landing with a dancer's grace on the bluff's edge. With an eye to the south, the general’s forked tongue slithered outward.

Tarbin peered behind, as if for the hundredth time that week, to check on his flagging progress.

His muscles screamed for a break, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Not with the world waiting for him. His breathing came in rapid bursts and his fingers grabbed a gnarled root near Tarbin's feet.

"Human, come look," General Demos said staring ahead.

He tossed one leg over the edge and with a hard grunt, pulled himself over the bluff. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes with enhancement magic.

Tarbin grunted and pointed the skull-tipped staff southward. "Savanna," the banther said and stepped forward.

General Demos's outstretched hand appeared before him. He took the offering and held tight.

With childlike effort, General Demos pulled him to his feet.

He brushed the loose soil from his tunic and turned to face the southern horizon.

A blanket of mist hung across a vast plain. Trees bearing high limbs and thin green leaves dotted the landscape. Their time in the swamp had come to an end.

His breathing came easier and he nodded his thanks to General Demos. "Why do I get the feeling the hard part is yet to come?"

General Demos faced the horizon. A wry smile touched the general’s face.

Tarbin strode onto the plain. Waist-high mist swirled around the banther's silver fur. Tarbin turned back and waved both men forward.

He glanced at General Demos. "Let's go." He tightened the straps of his leather pack and stepped forward into the mist.

General Demos followed.

Tarbin turned and walked a dozen yards further. The banther paused, leaned against the skull-tipped staff, and turned.

He followed taking tentative steps. Dry grass rustled around his boots while he crossed shifting uneven ground.

Tarbin's gaze drifted across the forest's edge. The banther’s head rolled back as if soaking in the savanna's scents.

He and General Demos reached Tarbin's side and paused.

Tarbin's gaze passed between them. The banther pointed to the ground then to the trees. "Wood," Tarbin said with a deep throaty purr.

He nodded and the tension in his shoulders eased. Fire to warm his bones and ease his pain. Fire to chase away the mist and show the earth beneath his feet. He could ground himself to this savanna. His gaze shifted to the horizon where the last slivers of sun scraped the sky. They would have to hurry.

He reached into his pack and tossed a canvas wrap to General Demos. "Use this. We can gather enough in one load for the whole night."

The three creatures, each from opposite ends of the world, set off toward the forest's edge.

The mist curled upward fingering his collar and lapping around his wrists. He'd have a hard time finding any firewood in this stuff. He remembered dead limbs near some of the larger trees.

At the forest's edge, he shuffled his feet forward. When he kicked a fallen limb, he added it to the satchel strapped to his shoulder. After fifteen minutes, the satchel bulged with wood.