Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (5 page)

The lights comforted Danielle, but an unsettling dread pinged at the back of her mind. She needed to know where to find the heartwood sapling. If Trace didn’t tell her, millions would die. How long until the plague spread to Meranthia? How long would her own immunity last?

A burlap knapsack, plain by a poor man’s standards, sat in a misshapen wad atop a narrow table.

She tugged at the drawstring. She’d sifted through the few items inside a dozen times, but found nothing she could use against Trace. The emperor had turned mute offering not the slightest shred of information. Maybe Kelwin was right. Had she overlooked an item significant to Trace among the collection of oddities?

A low creaking came from the double iron doors behind her. A bald head peeked through the opening. Arber’s gaze settled on her.

She flashed Arber a warm smile and stood.

Arber’s gaze drifted to the floor. “Kelwin said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, come in.”

Arber pushed the door open and entered.

She crossed the room and took Arber’s callused hands into her own. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the former guardian’s rough cheek. “Tank you for coming so quickly. I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

Arber’s cheeks reddened. “If cleaning out a horse stall qualifies as important, then I guess you did.” Arber’s gaze settled on the marble floor at her feet. “But, I suppose the horses can wait.”

Heat spread across her cheeks. “Arber.” She lifted Arber’s chin until she met her friend’s gaze. “I’ve forgiven you for what happened with Merric Pride. We all have. You can stop berating yourself for the past.”

A weak smile spread across Arber’s face. “I have a hard time letting it all go. Especially here.” Arber’s gaze drifted to the spinning spheres. “This room brings back bad memories.”

Her head buzzed. Of course the room made Arber feel uncomfortable. How could she be so insensitive? She glanced around the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think —”

Arber waved her off. “Please, you don’t owe me your sympathy.”

“Nonsense.” She invoked her sternest voice. “Besides, what’s done is done, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

Arber raised a bushy eyebrow. “How so?”

“Come sit.” She took Arber’s hand and drew him toward a polished cherry table empty except for Trace’s knapsack. She pulled back a chair and gestured toward it.

She and Arber sat facing each other with the knapsack between them.

“What’s this?” Arber said.

She intertwined her fingers through the drawstring. “It belongs to Trace.”

Arber’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I’m hoping you might make sense of something inside.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “You’re the one person I know who’s spent time with Trace in Zen. And what with your visions, I thought maybe….”

“That something in Trace’s bag might stir a memory?” Arber said finishing her thought.

She nodded. “I’ve run out of ideas.”

Arber’s gaze lifted from the knapsack and their eyes met. “I’m willing to help, but not if it means putting your life in more danger.”

“What I need is information. Trace won’t talk, and I need a lever that will pry open those tight lips of his,” she said. “If I can find the right trigger among these items, then maybe he’d open up.”

“Let’s see what’s in the bag,” Arber said.

She pried open the bag and glanced toward Arber before reaching inside.

Arber’s stone-faced expression revealed nothing.

Her fingers wrapped around the item she sought and she scooped it from the bag. With the item clenched inside her fist, she moved her hand across the table.

Arber’s gaze tracked her balled fist.

She opened her palm.

Arber stared at the item and blinked. “May I hold it?”

A buzz of adrenaline flushed through her arms and legs. “Yes of course.”

Arber lifted a polished crystal flecked with bits of red and gold.

Light from Elan’s sphere highlighted the crystal’s deep facets.

Arber inspected the crystal for a long moment before speaking. “It’s a petrified heartwood seed.”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded heavy with desperation. “You recognize it?” She held her breath and prayed Arber might offer a clue no matter how tiny.

Arber placed the seed on the table. “I’m sorry Danielle. I’ve never seen it before.”

“You’re sure? Why would Trace carry it with him? It must be important in some way.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but it’s not sparking any memory.”

She scooped up the seed and reached for its center like she had a dozen times before. She sensed nothing from the kernel. Whatever life had once flowed through its center ceased a long time ago.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what else is in the bag?” Arber said.

She tipped her head toward the bag. “Go ahead and see for yourself.”

Arber pulled the bag around, reached inside, and pulled free a second object.

A chunk of gleaming obsidian rested in the former guardian’s palm. With brow furrowed, Arber turned the rock over inspecting each side.

She tracked Arber’s eyes waiting for the expected reaction.

Arber’s head snapped up. “Is that who I think it is?”

She nodded. “I don’t know who else it could be.”

A chiseled image of Trace and Elan standing arm in arm adorned the obsidian’s flat surface.

“Couldn’t you use this against him? You could threaten to destroy it,” Arber said.

“I’ve tried. When I make the threat he shrugs it off.”

“He’s probably faking it Danielle. He’s had plenty of experience controlling his emotions.”

She shook her head. “As far as Trace knows, its already gone.”

Arber held her gaze wearing a puzzled expression.

She tipped her head toward the bag. “There’s more. Go ahead and look.”

Arber reached inside and pulled free an age-worn silver pendant. At its center an empty socket stood where a jewel once appeared. “What’s this?”

She shook her head. “It means something to him, but he’s not talking. I tried to use it against him, but like the engraving, he didn’t care what happened to it.”

Arber set the pendant on the table beside the obsidian engraving.

She laid the petrified heartwood beside the amulet.

“Does the seed fit in the amulet?” Arber said.

“No. I’ve tried a dozen different ways. None of them work.”

Arber picked up the seed and the amulet and tried to assemble them like a puzzle piece. After a minute of trying, he gave up and placed the seed and pendant on the table.

She leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand.

Arber lifted the pack from the table and peered inside. “It’s empty?”

She nodded. “Other than the heartwood sapling, those are the items he treasures most. Or at least what he brought with him when he decided to burn down an ancient forest.”

With brow furrowed, Arber inspected the items laid out before them. “Yet, he doesn’t care if you destroy them all. What about the heartwood bow? Maybe you can grow a new tree from it.”

“I’ve tried, but haven’t found a way. Kelwin and I found notes Lora left behind. Lora’s writings hinted at a way to trace a piece of living heartwood to its host.”

“Any luck?” Arber said.

“None until I combined a seed I found in Obsith with the heartwood sample.”

Arber’s brow raised. “Go on.”

“Light streamed from the wood’s surface and pointed toward the desert.”

“Your glum expression tells me something went wrong,” Arber said.

She nodded and picked up the silver pendant rolling it between her fingertips. “I might have caused permanent damage to the heartwood.”

Arber stiffened. “It’s dead?”

“I don’t think so. More like a deep sleep.”

Arber exhaled and leaned back in the chair. “Then we should look in Obsith.”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. “We’d have better luck finding a needle in a haystack. It could take a lifetime. The plague will destroy us all before then.”

Arber picked up the obsidian etching and rubbed Elan’s eyes. “If Elan were here, he might help us.”

An audible click came from the obsidian.

With her gaze locked on the obsidian, the short hair on her neck stood on end.

A rough edge protruded from the once seamless obsidian chunk.

She lifted her gaze from the etching and met Arber’s.

Arber’s mouth hung open.

“Is that a compartment?” She said, voice trembling.

Arber eased the etching onto the table.

A straight edged protrusion appeared on the etching’s side.

She pulled the obsidian toward her.

“Go ahead. See if it opens,” Arber said.

She pried the tiny compartment open with her thumbnail and the door slid away.

An ornate silver key pressed in black velvet sat nestled inside.

CHAPTER NINE

Nightmare

In the pass ahead, the curtain of dark blue energy expanded and contracted. White light swirled. Thirty foot tracers shot outward into the sky above Tara’s minions.

Tara searched the sky above the raging energy curtain for any sign of General Demos. How does a man vanish into nothing?

On the cliffs above the pass, Ronan’s soul shone with a brightness that made the energy curtain appear dim.

Around her pandemonium reigned. Troopers pushed past her like a school of mackerel under attack by a marauding shark.

The mare beneath her bucked and whinnied fighting against the crowd pushing past it.

With an earsplitting groan, the curtain blew outward. A hundred of her minions disintegrated. Blue and white energy swallowed the front line of General Demos’s troopers.

Screams filled with panic and pain echoed from the canyon walls. A low rumble echoed deep inside the mountain.

Her mare bucked and tossed her from its saddle. Her stomach flip-flopped and she fell into the throng of troopers swarming around her.

White snow and mud raced toward her face and she pushed her arms outward bracing for impact. She struck the ground and pain, like a hot knife, raced along her arms. Something snapped near her elbow and she howled in pain. Panic tore through her mind and she rolled sideways.

Clanging armor, stomping boots, and shouts came from above. Flickers of gray sky appeared above the swarming troopers, and a light snow started.

Tara craned her neck upslope toward the energy curtain and her gazed locked on the cliff above.

Blinding silver light rose in a slow arc over the roiling energy looming in the pass.

Somehow he’d gained the ability to fly? Confusion and panic doused her thoughts.

An explosion left her ears ringing. The world blurred and changed into a monotone ringing buzz.

The canyon walls collapsed. Falling boulders tore through General Demos’s retreating troopers.

Bloodcurdling screams rose from troopers further up the pass and the icy mud beneath her shook.

She stretched her mind outward for her minions. They could protect her and lead her to safety. She reached for their soul strands and found nothing. A fresh wave of panic washed over her. Ruin had come to her army. Ronan had destroyed them all.

“General Demos.” She shouted his name but couldn’t hear a reply through the ringing and chaos swirling around her. Gregor wouldn’t come for her this time. They’d taken him. The one person on earth she trusted. She clawed the slippery ground ahead and fresh pain erupted through her right arm.

The mountain crumbled. Boulders and rubble rained on the retreating troopers.

She pulled herself ahead using her one good arm. If she reached Ripool, she could find safety.

Something yanked her collar and pulled her to her feet.

She gasped and whirled.

A young trooper gaped.

She started to thank him then stopped.

The trooper’s face contorted into a mask of fear and revulsion. The soldier backed away and mumbled a forced apology.

She’d seen that expression too many times to count. She pulled her hood tight and moved with the troopers downslope toward the safety of Ripool. She would find General Andreas and General Pietro. They would need time to assess the damage Ronan had inflicted on their army.

Behind her, a deep rumble came from the collapsing mountain. Troopers screamed.

She broke into a run moving with the flow of retreating soldiers closing in on Ripool’s gates below. She would find General Andreas and make amends.

CHAPTER TEN

Ronan’s Curse

The scent of chamomile and dried garlic hung in the stifling air.