The Danger of Destiny (10 page)

“I wasn't planning on penciling in a jaunt to—”

“You must not falter. You must not fail. I cannot help you—do you not understand? I can only watch the light change inside your cyreath; I can only touch the bark of your citadel and sip from your experiences.” Frustration sharpened her tone. “Why do you let your attention falter? Why can your focus not stay fixed to the problem? You move from distraction to distraction, threat to threat! Do you not comprehend what rests on your shoulders? It is not just your fate or mine! It is the future of all those we choose to protect. And it is lives of those we love.” She thumped her chest with her clenched fist. “I love, Hedi of Creemore, and your dallying is threatening the man I love.”

“Dallying? How dare you! Do you know how many miles Trowbridge and I have covered? How long it's been since I slept?”

She shook her head. “I don't care. Simeon has protected my body in Merenwyn this age and longer, and I will protect him to my last breath. You must stay firm to your course! Fail and I will destroy you! I will tear the skin of your cyreath with my teeth and laugh as the wind carries your soul to oblivion.”

I cocked my head to study her. Her eyes snapping, her face alive. Animation had set fire to her cold beauty, making her almost appear mortal. “You can't,” I said quietly. “My life is connected to Lexi's and his to the Old Mage. He won't let you.”

I shared my citadel with my twin. Two trunks, one long taproot. Our futures were tied together. If I died, he died. And if that happened, the Old Mage was shit out of luck, for his soul had no place to call home. Thus, the old geezer would allow no bodily harm to me or my cyreath. It was that simple.

She knew it was an empty threat, but I guess that's all she had to use. Now she folded her arms over her chest hard enough to plump her breasts and took in a shuddering breath.

I watched a tide of red crawl across her cheeks.

Embarrassed for her, I scraped some of the sludge off the front of my tee with my nails. The scent of the drying paste oddly comforted me. Was I concussed or what? Grimly, I wiped the pads of my fingers clean.

“I love too, Mad-one, and my mate is missing. A hunter is following him, and I don't know where he is. I can only follow his progress by a cloud, and now I can't even do that. I can't see the sky. I'm deep in a forest, and I think I'm lost.”

“You are not lost.”

“Feels like it.”

Without turning, she pointed behind her. “Head in that direction. The forest will thin and soon you should be able search the sky for the sun.” She let out a bleak sigh. “Night is drawing nigh in Merenwyn. You will need to find a safe place to spend it. One with walls if possible. And you must not sleep, nor leave your place of sanctuary.”

“I've got a concussion. Don't suppose you have any wake-up juice to lend me?”

She leaned over to gently touch the swollen lump behind my ear. I felt a burst of heat, a flush of happiness, and then my head cleared.

She sat back.

Cautiously, I checked my skull. No egg. No pain. I was healed. “I didn't know you could heal me.” I tucked that information away, thinking it would be handy to have a medic on call.

“I cannot heal you again, Hedi of Creemore. I have used what I keep for myself, and now I am vulnerable.” I watched her gaze grow unfocused. “But your cyreath is shining again.”

“Can you see Lexi's light? Is it brighter than before?”
He should be almost through his healing. If good health shone, then …

And with that thought, she shut down.

Fear coursed through me. “Mad-one? What's happening with Lexi?” At her small negative headshake, I reached for her arm. It tensed under my grip. “Let me in, Mad-one. Let me see what you're seeing.”

“You do not wish to see this.”

“What's wrong with Lexi? Didn't the healing take? Is he still addicted? Is he fighting the mage?” She didn't answer. I pushed harder. “Tell me! Is he okay?”

“You must hasten. Time is but one of your enemies.”

“Not till you tell me what's wrong with Lexi.”

“He is not unwell,” she said. “But you must not dally. You must reach Daniel's Rock as quickly as you can.”

“I'm supposed to have plenty of time,” I said, totally confused. “I'm way ahead of schedule. Trowbridge and I weren't supposed to cross the portal for another day. I know that time is all screwed up between the two realms, but by the Old Mage's reckoning I am
early
. How is getting to Daniel's Rock a day before I need to going to help Lexi?”

“Time is melting, Hedi of Creemore. You must hurry.”

“No, no, no. That's not good enough. You've got to tell me why I have to hurry. You have to tell me exactly what's happening up there, or I swear to God, I'll come up there to see for myself.”

“No!” She shook off my arm. “Do not come to my realm when you are weak and unprepared. For he is here, and he is there. He is everywhere.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There are worse things than death, Hedi of Creemore. Do not squander our one last chance! Come only when you are ready to battle.” Her head turned sharply as if she heard something that I could not. “I must leave,” she whispered.

Myst started swirling around her.

“You're not leaving me with these questions.” I lunged, searching for her in the fog.

Her voice was a thread of caution. “Your clothing is wet, and there is no sun in this part of the forest. You must quit this portion of the woods. You must find the sun again, then shelter for the night. Daniel's Rock is to the east. Do not sleep. At first light head for the rock.”

“Who's everywhere?” I shouted. “Are you talking about the Old Mage?”

I again lunged through the fog, searching for her. I felt velvet and clung to it. “At least tell me that Trowbridge is okay,” I pleaded as the fabric thinned under my touch. I tried to hold on to her. I really did. But between one breath and another, I lost her. “Goddess curse you, Mad-one.” Heart pounding, I sat back on my heels.

“That has already been done,” came her faint reply.

The fog thinned to vapor, then melted into the forest.

 

Chapter Six

ONE WRETCHED HOUR LATER

“Seriously?” I whispered to my amulet-friends. “Seriously?”

Ralph didn't comment, having turned moody once Merry disengaged herself from his embrace to move higher on my neck. As for my dearest buddy, if she could swallow I think I would have heard a big gulp. But she couldn't, so all Merry did was pull another vine out of her nest of gold and touch my sunburned cheek.

Softly. Kind of a distracted pat, pat.

Once I'd brushed off the pine needles, I'd hauled ass, steadfastly heading in the direction that Mad-one had pointed to. Soon enough, I'd come out into a section of the woods less densely populated. I found the sun—
oh shit, that low?
—and picked up my pace. As long as I kept my back to the yellow ball in the sky, I figured I was trotting loosely east. But I'd been moving in that direction for what felt like a long time and a few minutes ago the sun had slid behind a stand of trees.

Since the forest is old and its growth exceptionally tall, I thought I had an hour before true sunset. But still, I knew, with cold clarity, what I had to do. I definitely had to stop walking. Find a dry hollow. Then cover myself up with pine boughs, or mulch, or some other body-insulating shit, to keep myself warm through the night.

Exposure can make you sleepy. Exposure can kill you.

I knew this because I'd watched
Survival Stories
.

I also knew how easy it was to get messed up if you had no fixed point of reference. Once darkness fell, I might start walking in circles. That's a tip I picked up while watching the episode about the elderly couple whose GPS had sent them straight to hell. When they'd tried to turn their Ford Focus around on a logging road's narrow track, they'd gone into the ditch. Husband had left to get help. Wife had stayed in the vehicle.

Hubby walked in circles until he died. Wife semi-starved but was found clinging to life a few weeks later. Clearly, that last tale is a honking big point in favor of staying put until the sunrise. There was one huge problem with that line of thought. If I stopped walking, I couldn't maintain the conceit that I was heading toward something—“
you get to that rock and I promise I'll meet you.”

Staying put also meant waiting for things to find me.

Like sleep.

Or wolves. Or Fae with arrows.

And sitting gives you too much time to think. About Mad-one's admonitions. About “him” being everywhere. About things I couldn't handle.

But mostly about him.

Trowbridge is fast. Strong and smart.

He'll outrun Qae this time.

So, I'd kept walking longer than I might. Because if I chose inaction over action I was courting the very real possibility that the fear roiling in my gut might overwhelm me. And then what would happen? Would I panic and resume the mindless-running routine?

Possibly.

I was on the edge of another meltdown. My skin felt tight; my hands kept shaking. The only way I'd kept from toppling over was to keep replaying every conversation I'd ever had with Trowbridge. Yeah, it was all there in my memory, stored away on a surprisingly short tape. From our first hello in that motel that had reeked of hard liquor and old sex to his most recent good-bye. He'd given me some good survival tips—sprinkled treasures in our talks. They were there, if I focused on them.

We really hadn't spent that much time together. And yet he was part of my soul. Which was why, whenever I came to the end of the tape and found myself back at the waterfall speech again, I hit fast-forward as fast I could.

Tears are useless.

They change nothing.

Besides, I don't believe brave girls cry. Maybe they do if they're contemplating the amputation of their arm or something equally dire, but they wouldn't dissolve into a boo-hoo session because they're frightened. Or lost and thirsty. No. People with courage get on with it. They chew a maple stick to keep from getting hungry. They keep their eyes open for any source of water that could ease the burn in their throat. They keep moving even if their souls are bleeding and the bottoms of their feet are shredded.

They try to see the forest beyond the trees.

Which is why I was twenty feet off the ground, with both arms wrapped in a death grip around a maple tree. I'd made a sweaty effort to get the big picture.

Goddess
.
What did I do to piss off Karma?

Why here? Why now?

Isn't it enough?

I'd been looking for the right tree for a while. It had to be on a rise with a bough low enough for me to catch and swing myself up onto (
check
), it had to be healthy because Merry and Ralph needed feeding (
double-f'ing-check
), and it had to have good strong branches so that I could squirm my way high enough to see the lay of the land (
triple-fuckety-fuck-fuck-check
).

Fortune smiled on me.

Before the gray light turned into no light, I found my maple. I climbed it to the point where my courage said,
That's good enough.
And then, my amulets and I had embraced the big picture.

To which I can say, “Shit.”

From our perch, we could see the Two Sisters, and yes, clearly my orienting skills needed fine-tuning. Either the hills had moved or I'd veered off course several degrees south.

No matter. Tomorrow, we could, and would, cover the ground.

But tonight …
oh sweet heavens
 … I wiped my cheek dry on my shoulder and Merry stroked my face again in wordless comfort.

Sometimes during daylight, it's possible to see both the sun and the moon in the same sky. I used to wonder how that could be—the moon was a nighttime creature, no?—until I found a book in Bob the blind bookseller's secondhand store that explained it. The author went into more detail than I wanted, but eventually I understood that it's a trick of reflected light.

So, there you go. Sometimes you can see both.

At least you can on Earth, viewed from a fairy pond in Creemore. I don't know what or how science explains the phenomenon in this realm. Perhaps the same laws apply; perhaps they don't. Doesn't change the fact that I could see both the sun and the moon.

Merenwyn's moon was low. She seemed more white than silver. But her outline was solid enough.

Damn, damn, damn.

My wolf trembled inside me, anxious for her treat.

Tonight's moon would be a full one—she was round as an uncut wheel of cheddar cheese. She'd sing to the wolves of Merenwyn this evening.

Well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep.

*   *   *

If a person's life is flattened so there are no peaks or dips, it would basically be one thick line on an otherwise blank canvas, bisected here and there by slashes to indicate points of interest.

The early years of my life had three distinct events: Hedi was born; Hedi lost her family; Hedi found Lou. Then we had a long uninterrupted line unmarred by any activity because nothing much happened. Which, by the way, is exactly what happens in a person's life when they wait for something to happen.

But six and a half months ago, Hedi stole into Trowbridge's room. She inhaled his scent and her inner-bitch moaned. And from that point, her time line grew jagged. Now, if you were a clinical scientist, you might eye those wins and losses—Hedi claims, Hedi kills, Hedi screws up—without any appreciation for emotional growth. On the other hand, if you were a florist, you'd be rubbing your hands in glee, because the tight little bulb that was me was poised to go into full bloom.