The Amaranth Enchantment (24 page)

He would tear through the house until he found me, I knew. My only hope was to get out of the house before he did. And here I was, trapped in a tower like the girl in the tale with the long, long hair.

I stood up, moving as softly as I could, and fumbled at the latch of the nearest window. It swung open on squealing hinges. I paused to see if Coxley had heard, but all I heard downstairs was smashing glass.

I leaned out the window and looked down. It was a full story drop to the roof below the tower. From there the roof sloped down to a single-story drop into thick evergreen bushes. If I could survive the first drop without breaking both my legs, I might be able to tumble to safety and run away. If Coxley didn't hear or see me.

A horrific crash followed by ringing notes told me Coxley had annihilated the piano in the ballroom. Why, why would he do that? Did he think I would hide inside it? Was this his revenge on Beryl? On me?

Wind pummeled me, whipping my hair out of its setting. Perhaps its noise would conceal me. The drop seemed endless in the darkness, but crashing glass below was more fearsome. Jump, now, some good angel whispered in my ear, and I obeyed before I could think. I clambered up on a 270

chair, gripped the upper sill, and hoisted my legs out. My slippers fell off my feet. I leaped forward.

For an instant I lay in the hand of God. Then I landed on the roof, smashing my knees and rolling to the very edge before catching a grip on the slates. I let myself fall into the thorny bushes, and dangled there, trying to catch my breath, my eyes screwed shut, every bit of me scratched and bruised and stinging.

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From out here I couldn't hear Coxley's rampages, so I didn't know whether or not they'd stopped. I flexed my ankles and wrists. It appeared that my body still worked. I clawed my way out of the deep shrubs, suffering several more gashes, a ripped-off sleeve, and a tear in my skirt before landing on the ground.

Each step was painful, but I forced myself to run across the dark lawns, sidestepping the drive and aiming directly for the road.

The wind chilled me. It lashed my face, flinging grit into my eyes. I closed my eyes, and dangling branches whipped me. My lungs ached, and my empty belly stabbed with pain.

"Meh-heh-heh!"

Dog galloped along beside me.

I couldn't see him, but I heard and felt him bash against my shins. I was so glad for his company, until Coxley's horse neighed, a shrill, piercing cry, and the door of the house slammed.

"Gyup," I heard him call out.

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And galloping hoofbeats were after us.

I reached the road and crossed it. The frozen grass of the margin was easier on my bare feet. I hoped I could disappear in the shadow of the ditch.

I stumbled and fell. My knees wouldn't let me get up.

I lay praying, clutching my hands around brambles and weeds, wishing the ground would swallow me. Beryl's stone, just under my neck, pressed into my windpipe.

The horse tore through the hedge and clattered across the road. With a cry from Coxley, it leaped across the ditch, sailing just over me, and landed in a farmer's field.

In the dark, under the cover of my body, I tore the stone from my throat and scrabbled in the frozen dirt with my fingers, trying to bury it.

I didn't get far. A stinging whip wrapped itself around my arm, yanking it up and out from under me. The stone fell. I prayed he hadn't seen it.

The whip relaxed and fell off my arm. I forced myself to rise from the dirt and face him, shivering with cold and pain and dread.

Here is where I die, I told myself.

Coxley sat astride his huge beast, moonlight gleaming on his leather boots.

Even in the winter night, I felt cold waves of malice rolling off him that chilled me far more than the wind. His pale, bloodless cheeks were hollow, sucked in, like withered dead skin over bones. Only his epaulets, and his crystal blue eyes, had any color at all.

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Behind him, in the farmer's field, hollow stumps of mown cornstalks became breathy reeds, sighing and rattling in the wind. His stallion snorted and shook his harnesses.

From out of nowhere, Dog appeared, charging into the horse's knees. The stallion reared angrily, pawing the air. Dog rammed him again with no regard for the horse's kicking legs.

"No, Dog!" I cried. "Stop it! Run away!"

Coxley shouted at his horse to stand. There was a loud crack, and Coxley's whip wrapped itself around Dog's neck. With a mighty heave, Coxley flung Dog's body high in the air, his body twisting and kicking.

He landed with a thump and lay still.

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Coxley reined his horse close, his whip handle clenched in his gloved hand. I turned away, waiting for him to strike.

Instead he grabbed my arm and hauled me effortlessly across the pommel of his saddle. Striking his horse on the flank, he spurred him back toward the house.

Each bounce of the saddle sent the pommel pounding into my belly. I couldn't help touching Coxley, smelling the wool of his uniform, feeling his cold iron form. I nearly retched.

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I mourned for Dog.

He dumped me off the horse, and I landed on the gravel drive before the house.

I could barely feel my feet, frozen in their shredded stockings.

Coxley dismounted and picked up the guttering torch that he must have dropped there when he chased after me.

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Its flames resurrected, and he held it near my face until I shrank back.

"Where is she?" he said.

"Gone," I said.

"Gone where?"

I tilted my chin up and looked at the stars in the sky. How could they shine on a night like this?

"Gone where you can't go," I told him.

For a moment I saw fear in his eyes, before it turned to anger. He shoved the torch closer until my cheek hurt. "Where is her stone?"

I hesitated. I saw a way. "Gone with her," I said. He jabbed with the torch.

"You lie."

He stared at me, as if his gaze alone would crumble me. It might have.

"How do I lie?" I demanded. "How would she have left this world without it?"

He spoke. "Your lie is written on your lips. You can't deceive me."

He meant it. I knew it. What to do now? I rubbed my arms and tried to think.

"Cold?" Coxley said. "Let me warm you." He climbed back into the saddle, nudged his horse toward the house and dangled the torch in the midst of a bare-branched shrub.

The bush caught fire. Orange feathers ruffled along its spiny branches slowly, almost lovingly. Fire spread through the bush--a woodsy scent, a cheerful crackle.

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"Where is the stone?" Coxley shouted. He ambled his horse toward another bush.

The wind fanned the flame from the first bush until it lapped at a windowsill.

No. Please no. The second bush began to gleam red.

I stood, with effort. Should I run? If I reached the stone, could I use it in some way?

The windowsill was burning. The fire threw dancing orange stripes upon the inside wall. It was the ballroom. Glass began to shatter, and the drapes lit with a whoosh.

Coxley tossed his torch inside the house, then came back to where I huddled.

He dismounted and pulled a dagger from its sheath. He pressed its tip gently into my belly.

"Whether or not you tell me where the stone is, I will find it," he said. "You can make this less painful by helping me."

Fire had spread to envelop the first floor. Light was already beginning to dance on a second-floor ceiling.

Courage, Lucinda. "You won't find it," I said, "and I won't help you."

"Very well," he said, and pressed the dagger in. "No, stop," I cried.

"Yes?"

Cinders flew high as if ascending to heaven behind him. "The stone is..."

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What could I say? I looked at the burning ballroom, and thought of Gregor. Had a thousand things been different, I might have danced with him there in that room. How could I betray him by arming Coxley with Beryl's stone?

She gave it to me.

I stood as tall as I could. "You killed my parents," I said. "You killed my little goat. It may be that you'll kill me, too, but I won't surrender to fearing you. And I won't give you Beryl's stone."

Coxley stared at me with hatred clamped between his teeth. Behind him, an inferno raged. Its rushing groan filled my ears. Every breath burned my lungs.

"Your parents died slowly, did anyone tell you that?" he said. "I watched them. Your father watched your mother bleed, and there was nothing he could do. His legs didn't work anymore. A miserable sight. Even for my tastes."

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The rushing black shock that filled my ears drowned out the roar of the fire.

I saw in my mind my parents' last moments. My bruised knees buckled under me.

Coxley raised me to my feet again, a cruel mockery of gentle manners.

"I think your end should mirror theirs," he said. "Don't you?"

He took my hand and overturned it gently. With the tip of his dagger, he drew a delicate curve across my wrist.

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I could barely feel it. Beads of blood rose from the wound, and in another heartbeat, spouted out.

I watched the dark river splashing on the stones at my feet. My blood soiled Coxley's brass buttons. A wrinkle of irritation crossed his lips. He wiped himself and his dagger with a kerchief, sheathed the blade, and remounted his horse.

"It won't be long," he said. "You'll go to sleep. I was softer than I needed to be."

My knees buckled once more, and I sank to the ground. Blazing rafters from the highest roofs caved in up themselves, sending jets of orange sparks, like prayers, into the night.

Soon I would be with my parents.

Coxley placed a shiny boot into his stirrup. A sudden sound rising above the fire's howl made us both turn, just in time to see Dog barrel both horns into Coxley's other leg, upending him.

"Dog!" I called. "You're alive!"

He ran to me and dropped something hard and wet from his mouth into my sagging skirt. I reached for him, wanting to be sure he wasn't a ghost. His nostrils flared at the puddle of blood on the ground. Then he charged Coxley once more.

The first crash had knocked Coxley on his back, with one leg horribly twisted and stuck in the high stirrup. A mortal man would have broken his back, but Coxley, snorting with rage, was only inconvenienced.

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The sight of Dog bounding over the frozen ground filled me with new hope. If he could survive, perhaps I could. I raised my arm high and squeezed the wound tight with my other hand.

Dog ran underneath the stallion's belly, which spooked him, making him rear on his hind legs. Coxley dangled like a rag doll, his yellow hair dragging in the dirt. He shrieked curses at the horse and at Dog.

Dog rammed the horse's hind legs, and the stallion leaped forward, dragging Coxley across the drive.

I looked down in my skirt. Dog had brought me Beryl's stone.

What could I do with it? I didn't have Beryl's power. Could I, at least, use it to send a message?

My bleeding had slowed. I stared at the stone. Light, I demanded it. Light for dear life. For my dear life, even if it's only dear to me.

The stone blazed like a beacon.

The stallion screamed. Coxley had freed himself and was beating the horse with his whip handle. Poor beast.

With all the effort I could muster, I quieted my mind, thought about Beryl's world, and entered the stone.

I opened my eyes, but saw only as I might through a dark and dirty window. I saw people in the distance, not clearly enough to make them out. "Beryl," I called, "Beryl, where are you? Come help me!"

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A figure ran toward me but was held away by the hazy barrier. "Tell Beryl that Lucinda needs her," I called. "Please!"

And the vision, or illusion, if that's what it was, ended. Coxley snatched the stone from my lap.

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I abandoned all thought of my wrist. I backed away from Coxley. He held his dagger high and scanned the firelit lawns searching for Dog.

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Run, Doggy Goat, I called to him silently. Run away!

But Dog brayed loudly, a battle cry, and galloped once more toward Coxley.

Coxley flung his knife.

And the heavens opened.

Blinding white cascaded down in a circle around me and Coxley. Shooting stars began tumbling onto the ground around us.

They weren't stars. They were Beryl's people.

And Coxley recognized them.

He held his stone--my stone, Beryl's stone--high in the air and began shouting strange words. The stone shone green and red. Waves of nausea and pain washed over me,

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and I vomited on the ground, in the presence of angels. He was using the stone as a weapon to kill me faster.

Dozen of bright people came. Strong arms reached around me and pulled me to safety, and I looked up into Beryl's face. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist, and I felt my flesh knit back together.

"It's all right," she told me.

"What are you going to do?" I whispered.

"Watch."

I was outside of the circle now. It tightened around Coxley like a noose, several people deep. Each wore a stone around their necks, and they glowed yellow, sending a golden halo of light up into the sky.

Still Coxley held his angry red stone high and screamed and howled his strange words. With each one I felt crippling jabs of pain in my belly. Hurry, I prayed.

The halo condensed itself around Coxley. A tourniquet of light.

With an agonizing scream, Coxley let go of Beryl's stone. It flew high in the air and landed in Beryl's hand.