by Joy Nash
The song’s tempo increased, compelling him forward, but he faltered at the last moment. The melody hit a sour note.
“No!” He recoiled and wrenched his mind free, shuddering with the knowledge of how close he’d come to giving Gina to Balek.
The music shattered. Derrin flung his spirit out of the web and back into his body.
Blinding pain erupted behind his eyes.
* * * * *
“Where the hell have you been?”
Gina opened her apartment door a little wider. “Hi, Mikala.”
Mikala blew past Gina like an angry tornado. She was halfway across the living room before she whirled around. “‘Hi, Mikala?’ Is that all you have to say for yourself? My God, Gina, everyone thinks you’re dead!”
Gina shut the door and leaned against it. “How did you know I was back?”
“I saw the light. I’ve been driving by every night, hoping…” She all but collapsed on the sofa, blinking back tears. “Despite what the police said, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were alive. That you would be back.”
Gina sighed. Mikala looked almost as bad as Gina felt. “I’m sorry.”
“Where did you go?”
“I wish I knew.”
“You mean you don’t remember?”
Gina shoved away from the door. “No, I remember well enough. Do you remember what you told me that day we were in Crystal Shadows?”
“The New Age shop? When we were shopping for your costume for The Wizards’ Ball?”
“Yeah. You said it was mathematically possible for other universes to exist. Well, you were right. I went to one.”
“What?”
Gina sat down across from Mikala and leaned forward, one elbow resting on her thigh. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I spent the last month in another world.” She gave Mikala a brief account of her experience while her friend listened, wide-eyed and silent.
“The worst part is, I don’t know what happened to Derrin after I left him,” Gina finished. “He could be dead.” The word stuck in her throat.
“Maybe not. Maybe he kicked the bad guy’s ass.”
If Gina hadn’t been so miserable, she might have laughed. Only Mikala would accept a story like the one Gina had just told her. “Maybe. But I’ll never know for sure. And I need to. Not only about Derrin, but about all the people I met there.”
She rubbed the throbbing ache in her right temple. “I felt a weird connection with them, Mikala. I don’t know how to describe it. It started the moment I saw Derrin’s grandmother. She wore this white stone disk with an odd symbol etched on it—two rings and a spear. It’s the symbol of Derrin’s people. Every time I saw it, I got a chill.”
Mikala gave her an odd look. “Were the rings linked? With the spear passing through the overlapping part?”
Gina looked up. “Yeah. Why?”
“Gina, you have a stone like that. In that box of antique costume jewelry that you got from your father’s house when he died. Do you remember? You asked me if I wanted to wear any of it to the Wizards’ Ball.”
Gina stared at Mikala for several seconds, her heart pounding into her throat. Then she lurched off her chair and into her bedroom.
Her mother’s jewelry box was where she had left it, on the top shelf of her walk-in closet. Mikala crowded close as Gina lifted the lid and sifted through a jumble of necklaces, bracelets and broaches. Gina’s fingers closed on a stone disk strung on a thin black cord.
A million stars burst in her head.
She stared, dazed, at the delicate lines etched on the surface of a milky-white stone—two rings, linked, with a spear thrust through the place of their joining. Gina had seen five stones identical to this one—each had been sewn onto the headdress of a Na’lara.
There could be no mistake.
The stone nestled in Gina’s palm was the lost talisman of the Seventh Clan.
* * * * *
Death waited in patient vigil.
Derrin had lost count of the days since his capture. A quarter moon, perhaps more, perhaps less. No food. Only a few drops of water. He sprawled on the floor of the pit, drifting in and out of an endless nightmare.
The muscles in his arms and legs twitched, and the slightest movement brought exquisite pain. His skin hung limp, bunching like soft leather over his bones. Pain pounded his temple, tightened in bands across his chest. He existed, waiting—hoping—for the end.
The voice in his head, inexplicably, had fallen silent. He struggled to make sense of this fact. Had Balek found Gina without Derrin’s cooperation? Had the high wizard dismissed him as an insect unworthy of a boot heel?
A stream of lurid images flowed through his consciousness. Derrin opened his eyes, but nightmare didn’t disappear. Perhaps he was already dead, awaiting entrance to Tarol’s Inferno.
The visions spun faster. Gina’s face contorted in terror. Niirtor dead in his coffin. Rahza standing beyond his reach. Zahta’s wrinkled hand, reaching for him, then drawing back.
Then, finally, nothing.
Derrin drew a burning breath. The sheer walls of his prison wavered in his failing vision. Far above, a direwolf howled.
The walls of the pit took on a faint luminescence. He squinted, certain he had gone mad at last. Waves of pulsing light washed the air, spread across the floor of the pit, creeping toward him.
His skin tingled at its touch. A shower of sparks sprang from the rock, dipped low and entered his mind.
Place yourself within me.
A woman’s whisper sounded in his ear, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He turned his head, gasping at the effort, but saw nothing.
Place yourself within me.
The command stirred a response from the deepest recesses of his mind. Derrin gathered the shadow of his fading life and offered it.
A raw bolt of lightning seared the air.
“Derrin.”
He rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, stifling a moan of agony. Less than an arm’s length away, draped in light, stood a woman.
She wore a buckskin dress, dyed the color of midnight and decorated with rows of red and black beads. Furrows of age lined her face, silver braids hung to her waist. Her eyes held the mystery of the universe.
Derrin forced his swollen tongue to move. “Who are you?”
“Who do you believe I am?”
A grandmother from the spirit world. Another of Balek’s tricks. Either choice seemed likely.
“I don’t know.”
The crone took a step forward. “Your power is great. It lives in the stones you create with your spirit.”
Her words fell like a blow. “The power I wield is a curse. It sickens the land.”
“No, my son. The land is held in the heart of the power, how can it be harmed by its own spirit? Only one who is apart can harm it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Place your spirit in mine. All else will follow.” Her breath passed over him like the mist of a summer night.
The outline of her body wavered. Derrin blinked. “Who are you?” he asked again.
I move in all things. Give me your spirit.
Her light flared. Derrin shielded his eyes with his hand and watched as the grandmother’s form thinned, then scattered in a sparkling rush. Sparks spun, then reformed in a pattern of skew lines, spun with golden light. Unable to bear the beauty of the web, he shielded his face with his hands.
A moment later, the light dimmed and Derrin raised his head. A she-wolf stood before him, watching him with eyes of silent gold. She tilted her head, as if asking a question, before padding to the wall of the pit. The beast met his gaze once more, then turned and walked into the rock.
Derrin stared as the tip of the direwolf’s tail disappeared. The light fled, and what little strength he possessed vanished with it. He sank to the ground, gasping with the weight of the darkness.
The warmth of the direwolf-goddess lingered. His mind sank into the bedrock an
d touched the raw grains of crystal entombed there. He held himself still, demanding nothing, waiting for his last moments to pass.
A wave of pure power, at once agonizing and ecstatic, squeezed the breath from Derrin’s body, emptied every corner of his mind. He surrendered without question, without struggle. The force intensified. His senses screamed, his flesh crumbled. A roar like the crash of a tidal wave broke over him, driving him into the void. Then, nothing.
It was over.
* * * * *
“Stop pounding, Gina. The shop’s not open yet. We’ll just have to wait.”
Gina glared at Crystal Shadows’ locked door. “Madam Rose is in there, I know it. And she owes me some answers.”
“Do you think she had something to do with your…uh…trip?”
“I hope so. I want to go back through the web.”
Mikala paled. “You’re joking.”
“Hardly.” Gina cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the shop window into the gloomy interior. “I need to go back. Because of the stone.”
“I don’t understand.”
Gina rattled the door handle. “Mikala, the talisman wasn’t something my mother picked up at a yard sale. I’m guessing it came from my birth mother.”
“Your birth mother? I didn’t know you were adopted.”
“I was. But it wasn’t a normal situation. My father was an ER doctor. One night they brought in a pregnant woman who’d been hit by a car. The trauma sent her into labor. My father delivered the baby.”
“You?”
Gina nodded. “The woman died. No ID, and she didn’t fit any profiles of missing persons on file with the police. No one ever came looking for her. My parents had been trying to adopt a child for a while. My father pulled some strings and got me.” She gave a final glance at the store window. “Come on, let’s try around back.”
She strode for the street corner, Mikala nearly running to keep up. “But why would your birth mother have a stone from another world?”
Gina reached the end of the row of shops and turned the corner. “She brought it with her when she crossed the web.”
“You mean you think you’re—”
“Yeah. I’m one of them. And they knew—I’m sure of it. Not Derrin, but the wise women I told you about. One of them told me the talisman of the Seventh Clan disappeared in a fire with the daughter of the clan’s wise woman. The daughter was pregnant.”
She turned the corner into the alley and backtracked toward the rear entrance to Crystal Shadows. “That happened four cycles of seven years ago. And guess what? I’ll be twenty-eight on my next birthday.” She reached Madam Rose’s service entrance and pounded on it. “The return of the talisman has been foretold. And it’s not going back without me.” She raised her hand.
Before she could knock a second time, the door swung inward on rusty hinges. Madam Rose stood on the threshold.
“Welcome, my daughters. Come in.”
Incense hung heavy in the air of Madam Rose’s cluttered back room. Gina turned to face the woman, feeling suddenly foolish. “Madam Rose, you may not remember us, but—”
“I remember.” She shuffled into the main section of the shop and parted the curtain of beads veiling the crystal room. Gina and Mikala squeezed into the small space.
“You come to my shop. Choose ice crystal.” She lifted a trembling blue-veined hand, palm up. “Stone gone now.”
“Where?” Gina asked.
“Other side. I send it to you there.”
Gina steadied herself with one hand on a tall wooden cupboard. “Then you know how to call the strands. You can open the web.”
“Yes, I can call.”
Gina’s gut tightened. “Can you send me across?”
Madam Rose shook her head. “Only you can choose. Dark man waits.”
“I know. I have to go back. I have this.” She drew the cord holding the talisman out from under her shirt.
Madam Rose’s eyes gleamed. She extended one claw-like finger and touched the stone. To Gina’s amazement, the disk began to glow. A milky-white mist swirled just below its surface. Mikala gasped.
A rushing noise, like the wind in the treetops, filled the tiny room. A single strand of shimmering gold hung in the air. It split, then multiplied, weaving a skew of light.
Come. The unspoken syllable echoed in Gina’s mind. Come now.
Now? Gina’s resolve weakened in a rush of panic. She wasn’t ready.
You have all you need.
The web encircled her, beckoning. She took a step toward its center.
“Gina.” Mikala’s voice was trembling. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Was she? An hour ago Gina’s answer would have been unequivocal, but now, faced with the reality of stepping through the web a third time, her courage faltered. Where would the shining strands take her? To the Baha’Na? Back to the wizard’s city? She would be ill-prepared in any case. She had nothing but the clothes she wore.
Gina’s throat went dry. She didn’t have to go. She could stay in the world she knew best. She was safe here. But if she did that, she would never know what had happened to Derrin. Never know what might have been.
Inside her, something shattered. She took a deep breath.
“Gina?”
“I’m sure, Mikala.” She turned to her friend and saw tears in her eyes. “Wish me luck.”
“I do.”
The web sang to her heart. She took a deep breath and crossed the shimmering strands.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Derrin lay on his back in the middle of a shallow stream. Cool water flowed over his body, infusing his limbs with life.
He had no idea how he’d gotten there.
Green branches floated overhead, framing snatches of the dawn sky. A flock of small birds darted across his line of vision. He turned his head a fraction. Water trickled into his parched throat and burned a trail to his gut.
He sat up and coughed. When the fit eased, he drank again, careful not to take too much into his shrunken stomach. With shaking arms, he pushed himself to his knees. He stripped off his clothes, then caught a handful of grit and scrubbed the filth from his body.
The wolf-goddess had led him to the natural crystal imbedded in the walls of his prison. Somehow, he’d triggered its power and escaped, though he had no memory of it. He murmured a prayer of thanks for his deliverance. Would he prove worthy of the favor?
He tried to stand, but found his legs unequal to the task. He pulled himself into a patch of sun on the riverbank and considered his dilemma. He was too weak to gather food, but if he didn’t eat, he would die.
Across the water, a shadow darkened the underbrush. A heartbeat later, a male direwolf emerged from the foliage, the leaves silent in his wake. The animal advanced at a slow pace, head raised, tail straight. It halted on the opposite bank of the stream and regarded Derrin with calm eyes.
He recognized the creature. It had approached him once before, the night the wind had howled through the canyon and Gina had spoken of evil spirits. The wolf picked its way across the water, placing each foot with precise care. It halted at Derrin’s side.
Sharp teeth loomed over him, then dipped closer. Every muscle in Derrin’s body clenched. Hot, blood-sweet breath bathed his cheek, fine whiskers tickled his chin. Pink lips curled over long fangs.
The beast flicked its tongue over the corner of Derrin’s mouth and brought one giant paw down on his chest. A howl pierced the air.
A she-wolf emerged from the underbrush, her teats swollen with milk, a fresh kill dangling from her jaws. She trotted to Derrin and draped the carcass on his lap, then pushed it with her nose.
Both direwolves turned and bounded out of sight.
“Thank you, my sister, my brother,” Derrin whispered.
A sharp stone lay within his reach. He hacked at the direwolves’ gift, chopping strips of meat from the carcass and eating it raw.
He slept. When he awakened, he found he could walk
without stumbling. He caught a few fish and built a fire. After eating, he rested by the stream and waited for his new companions.
They arrived in the long shadows of late afternoon. The male dropped another kill at Derrin’s feet, but his mate disappeared behind a rocky outcropping with a lifeless harta. Derrin spitted the wolf’s bounty and cooked it.
A short time later, the she-wolf returned, leading her pups. Five bundles of fur launched themselves at Derrin as if he were a long-lost uncle, pouncing and nipping at his arms with needle-sharp teeth. He wrestled with the direwolf-children, barking and snarling in play.
One small female clamped its jaws on a stick. Derrin grabbed the stick and hauled it into the air, laughing when the pup refused to let go.
When night came, the little she-wolf was still at his side. She nestled under his arm and dropped off to sleep.
* * * * *
Branches clawed Gina’s face and snagged her clothes, leaving thin trails of blood across her bare thighs. Her breath came in white gasps of cold mist. She kept moving, clinging to the illusion she had someplace to go.
An icy wind whipped her T-shirt. A fine drizzle, hardened to sleet, pelted her bare limbs. Daylight dimmed with each passing moment. A violent shudder racked her body. She had to get warm.
Why hadn’t she worked harder at learning the skill of firemaking? She’d failed to spark a blaze under the best of conditions, even with Derrin by her side, coaching. Her chances of succeeding during a storm, with night falling, were slim. She would have to do without it.
She dragged a deadwood branch to a sheltered hollow and propped up one end on a boulder, then built a rough frame of sticks around it. She dumped armloads of leaf litter on top. Inside, she huddled in the darkness, amid the odor of decay, wondering if she’d survive the night.
The next morning Gina woke shivering, but alive. She crawled from the shelter and foraged for the little food that had been spared by the night’s freeze. In the morning, the temperature rose, warming her briefly, but the relief was short lived. Come late afternoon, the temperature plummeted to freezing. If she couldn’t manage to make a fire, she would die.
