The Gypsy Morph (31 page)

“Lie still,” Logan Tom whispered. “Don’t talk.”

Kirisin stared in disbelief.

“Do you know me now?” the other mouthed.

The boy nodded, though he could still scarcely believe who he was looking at.

The Knight of the Word—he was still that, Kirisin supposed—took his hands away. A finger went to his lips in further caution, and then Logan Tom was cutting him free, stripping off the bonds, rubbing his ankles and wrists. Again he mouthed,
Don’t move.
Kirisin lay still, the circulation slowly returning. He glanced off into the night for his captors. One of them sat not a dozen feet away, propped up against the rocks. How it could not see them was beyond the boy’s understanding. Logan Tom’s disguise was good, blending him closely with the night-shrouded landscape, but he was crouched out there in the open as he worked over Kirisin, completely exposed.

“Lean on me,” the other whispered in his ear.

Then he carefully pulled him to his feet and steadied him. After a moment, he began walking him out of the skrail camp. Kirisin glanced again at the guard, but the guard didn’t move.

“It can’t see you,” Logan Tom whispered.

Kirisin didn’t understand. Then he looked more closely. The skrail’s head was cocked to one side at an unnatural angle. It was dead.

His rescuer put a finger to his lips once more. The strange mottled face and unnaturally bright eyes mirrored something the boy couldn’t quite define. One rough hand reached up to grip his shoulder.

“Leave no footprints,” the Knight of the Word whispered, and his smile was bright and fierce.

TWENTY-ONE

K
IRISIN WALKED AWAY
from his captivity as if there were nothing to it, as free as the night air, although inwardly he was still grappling with how quickly things had turned around. He followed Logan Tom through the darkness, filled with a mix of relief and gratitude that exceeded anything he could remember. He had been certain of his fate when the skrails had caught him trying to escape, his hopes dashed, his courage gone. He had told himself that Simralin would come for him, but he’d had no real expectation that she would.

No real expectation that anyone would.

But here was Logan Tom, come out of nowhere, finding him when Kirisin knew in his heart that no one could. It was a genuine miracle, and he was so grateful for it that he almost cried.

Logan kept him moving, steadying him as they walked until at last he was able to continue unaided. Some distance farther on, just inside the screen of a grove of withered trees, the Knight of the Word turned aside to retrieve the clothing he had shed earlier. Kirisin stood silently nearby, watching him dress. He took his time, in no apparent hurry, using sleeves torn from his shirt to wipe himself clean of the camouflage paint before slipping back into his clothes. He said nothing to the boy the whole time. When he was finished dressing, he bent down to retrieve his black staff from where it was lying on the ground. It took a moment for Kirisin to realize what that meant, and when he did, he was stunned.

Logan Tom had gone into the skrail camp without his magic to protect him! He had left his staff behind!

The Knight of the Word caught him staring and turned away quickly. “Let’s go, Kirisin.”

They started out again. “Is Sim all right?” the boy asked him. “Has there been any sign of her? Of any of them?”

The other shrugged. “Can’t tell yet. It’s too early to know. Don’t talk. Not until we’re farther away.”

They continued for perhaps another quarter mile before reaching the Ventra 5000, its bulky shape unmistakable even in the darkness. Logan Tom released the locks and alarms, and they climbed inside. Once settled, the Knight of the Word sat staring out into the darkness. Kirisin waited in silence for a moment before speaking.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“A little bird told me.” Logan looked at him. “You want to know why I didn’t take my staff with me when I came to rescue you.”

He made it a statement of fact. Kirisin started to say that it wasn’t his business, but then simply nodded. Logan stared at him for a moment longer. The joy he had displayed earlier had leached away; all that remained was resignation and weariness. “Maybe later,” he said.

He turned away, started the engine, retracted the wheel locks, put the AV in gear, and slowly pulled away into the night.

They drove for a long time in silence. Kirisin tried not to look at Logan, not to do anything that might upset him. He should have kept his curiosity to himself. Logan Tom had saved his life. He didn’t deserve to be questioned about how he had done it. Certainly not by the boy he had saved. What sort of gratitude was that? Kirisin ground his teeth. He still had not learned when to keep things to himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, unable to stand it any longer. “I shouldn’t have looked at you like that.”

Logan Tom glanced over, then shrugged. “Did the skrails hurt you? Are you all right?” He seemed anxious to change the subject. “You look a little dazed.”

“They knocked me around a bit at first,” the boy answered. “But then the one who controls the skrails conjured up a specter or wraith out of the flames of a fire, and there was this old man. He had eyes . . .” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen eyes like that. So cold. He just stared at me, and I knew he could kill me just by looking at me, if he wanted.”

Logan Tom was suddenly interested. “Did he wear a gray cloak and slouch hat?”

“That’s right. Do you know him?”

Logan hesitated. “A little. What did he do?”

“Asked some questions. He wasn’t happy that I didn’t have the Loden with me.” He paused. “Is it safe? Did Praxia find it?”

“She had it with her when she came to find me after the skrails had flown off with you. She wanted to come along to help rescue you, but I told her she couldn’t do that. I told her that the Loden was her responsibility now, at least until you returned.”

Kirisin pictured Praxia’s reaction and smiled despite himself. “I’d guess she didn’t like hearing that very much, did she?”

“She understood.”

“That old man,” Kirisin continued. “He did something to me. Without even being there, he was able to hurt me. He just looked at me from out of the flames and made me answer his questions about the Loden. I didn’t tell him where it was, only that I lost it. But I think he knew I wasn’t telling him everything. Then he hurt me so badly I thought I was going to scream from the pain. Just by looking at me, from somewhere else entirely, he could do that.”

Logan looked off into the night, his eyes on the landscape ahead. “He’s a very powerful demon. The leader of all of the demons, maybe. I saw him once, years ago, when I was still a boy. He led the attack that killed my family. He looked at me, too. In a different way. But I remember those eyes. I won’t ever forget them.”

“Will he come after us?” Kirisin asked.

“Like a wolf hunting sheep.”

“Maybe we can outrun him.”

Logan Tom didn’t answer.

They drove on in silence for a time, putting miles between themselves and the skrails, watching the eastern sky lighten with dawn’s approach as the stars faded. Kirisin was thinking of the old man, remembering how he had been made to do whatever the other wanted, how humiliated and helpless he had been made to feel. It was bad enough that he had almost lost the Loden to the skrails. But to know how easy it was for the demon to take it away from him if he should catch him with it another time was terrifying. He didn’t think anyone could survive an encounter with such a creature—not even a Knight of the Word. He didn’t think magic was enough—not Elfstones and not a Knight’s black staff. This demon was much more powerful than the ones he had encountered. If he caught up to them, it would take something special to escape.

It might take something that none of them had.

The new day began. It was midmorning when Logan finally pulled the AV over to the side of the road and let them get out to stretch their legs and eat something. Even then, he kept his eyes on the horizon of the country they had fled and his staff cradled in the crook of his arm. There was a fresh intensity to his look that Kirisin found scary—a concentration that was dark and private and suggested Logan Tom would not respond well to interruptions. The boy took it to heart and left him alone.

But as they were finishing, Kirisin already looking ahead to moving on, the Knight of the Word began to speak. “Do you know how old I am, Kirisin?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “Twenty-eight. Twice your age, but in my heart I don’t feel that old. In my heart, I’m still a boy of fourteen or fifteen. Isn’t that odd?”

He straightened his legs and rubbed his knees. “My body feels older, though. My body feels twice my age. Years of running and fighting after leaving the compound with Michael. Years of battles I just barely survived, injuries and sickness, wounds and poisons. You can’t absorb all that and walk away unchanged. But it seems odd anyway, my body feeling so old, while my heart feels . . .”

He trailed off. His eyes fixed on the boy. “Here’s what I want you to understand. The magic is dangerous. Even when it feels good using it, even when it makes you feel invincible, it’s still dangerous. You’re going to find that out. You’re the keeper of those Elfstones, and their magic is yours to employ. You will use it again, probably soon. You might think you have a choice in the matter, that it was a onetime thing, using the magic to destroy that demon in the ice caves. But that’s not the way it works. Once you’ve used the magic, you’ve committed yourself. It’s a responsibility you can’t give up.”

Kirisin nodded. “I guess I know that.”

Logan smiled. “Well, you might think you do, but you don’t. Not yet. Not really. And you won’t right away. You have to have the power in your care for more than a few weeks or even a few months. You have to have it in your care for years. You have to live with it awhile. Then you’ll begin to see what I mean.”

He gestured absently. “The danger comes from both using it and not using it. It comes just from having it, from possessing it, from being a part of it. It becomes the defining factor of your existence, the single most important truth you possess. It influences everything you do; it determines the nature of your character and it shapes your thinking.”

He paused. “It’s a two-edged sword, Kirisin. If you fail to use it at the right times in the right ways, people will die. Some of them might be people you know, but even if you don’t, they are still people for whom you have become responsible simply because you possess the means of helping them and you have failed to do so. You’ve made a choice, and you have to live with that choice. Sometimes the choices you are given are bad ones, no matter which way you go. And therefore the consequences are bad ones, as well.

“But the consequences of using the magic in the very best way you can, in a way that helps people and saves lives, doesn’t mean that things will work out any better. Using the magic in a way that works is just as dangerous. Not to them, you see, but to you. Because every time you use the magic, it eats away at you. It erodes the defenses you create to keep it from overwhelming you, from stealing away your soul. Do you think I exaggerate? Think again. Magic can do that. It
does
do that. By the very nature of what it is. It is an addictive, corrupting influence, and the more you use it, the more it makes you want to use it. Because it makes you feel so good when you do. It makes you feel invincible. It banishes all your insecurities and fears. It fills you up like liquid iron, hardening you against everything that might harm you. It dominates you in a way that nothing else can. It’s a drug. An addiction, like I said. You find you want it, you need it, you have to have it. And the only way that can happen is if you allow yourself to find a use for it. Any use.”

Kirisin was horrified. “It isn’t that way with you. I don’t see that with you, Logan.”

The Knight of the Word smiled. “You don’t see a lot of what I am. I keep it hidden pretty well. I keep my demons penned up. More to the point, I live my life alone. There’s only me and this.” He held out the black staff. “Me and my magic. We share a life that doesn’t allow for intrusion or for sharing.”

He shook his head. “I was like you when I first became a Knight of the Word. That’s why I am telling you all this now. Not to frighten you, but to warn you. I had no one to warn me. I had to find it all out for myself. But I can pass it on to you, what I’ve learned, and maybe it will make a difference somewhere down the road. Maybe it will make your life a little easier to bear. Maybe you can do something more than I’ve done to keep yourself safe from what having the use of the magic will mean.”

“But you said it yourself,” Kirisin pointed out. “I have to use the Elfstones. So if I have to use them, maybe more than once, maybe a bunch of times, I’m at risk no matter what, aren’t I? I can’t avoid these consequences you’re warning me about.”

“You can’t avoid your fate, no. None of us can. You’ve been given a responsibility, just as I was. You’ve been given the use of magic, and you can’t take it back. But you can be aware of its dangers. You can appreciate that it has its darker side. Just knowing that that part of it exists and recognizing how it makes you feel might be enough to help you.”

He looked down at his feet. “I’ve done some things . . .” He trailed off. “I’ve forgotten to remember the danger, sometimes. I haven’t been careful enough. I’ve been reckless because either the situation called for it or I’ve allowed my emotions to rule my thinking. Bad choices, both. And don’t be fooled. They were choices I made. I just wasn’t controlled enough to avoid making them. I can’t excuse what I’ve done. I can’t excuse any of it. I have to live with my regrets.”

He looked up again and gave Kirisin a quick smile. “But maybe you won’t have to live with as many of those regrets as I do. Not if you’re aware that they’re out there.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Kirisin said, “In a world like this one, where everything either has been destroyed or is in the process of being destroyed, maybe you have to be content with knowing that you’re doing the best you can. Maybe you shouldn’t spend too much time blaming yourself for what didn’t work out. You do the best you can, don’t you?”