Though Jett would have carried Autumn all day, he didn’t argue. He wanted to fight for his new friends . . . new family. As he gently placed Autumn in Claris’s arms, Autumn whispered, “Thank you.”
“Thank me by getting well,” Jett said.
Johnny took his sister’s hand. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “Soon as we finish here.”
The assignment had seemed so easy that Gwar Commander Sorbin Heathmord had already begun mentally counting the vanadils he’d been promised. I should have been rich. Simply backup Mobius’s team at the last Earth portal. Mobius—the legendary Drefid warrior and strategist. How could he fail? All Mobius had to do was trap and kill the seven teenage lords and a ragtag bunch of Elves. But clearly these were no ordinary Elves. With more than a dozen Drefids, scores of Warspiders, and Cragon trees at his disposal, there was no way Mobius could lose. But he did. Worse than that, Mobius called half of my Gwar battalion and all of my Warspiders through the portal for support. Got them killed, too. Now I’m left chasing the Seven Lords. . . . Perhaps the Age of Reckoning is no more a myth than the might of my war hammer. Yet could their gifts be matured already? Sorbin could just see his reward disappearing, coin by coin.
But all was not lost . . . not yet.
“Ferral!” he yelled to his subordinate. “Ready the reserves. I will lead them myself.”
“Yes, Commander,” Ferral replied. Ferral lumbered back across the uneven ground. He returned leading more than a hundred Gwar soldiers. These were not limber, cross-country Gwar like those who patrolled the Lightning Fields. No, these were the strong arms of the Bludgeoners—mace-, cudgel-, and hammer-wielding Gwar who knew nothing of pain except how to inflict it upon any who stood in their way.
Sorbin slammed two hammers together above his head and bellowed, “No mistakes! Make sure every Elf is dead!”
“Quickly!” Grimwarden shouted as he sprinted along the barely visible path. “Our escape lies just ahead!”
“Where?” Goldarrow asked, sprinting behind him. A sudden clamor from very close behind them caused her to stop and look back. She could see only a tumble of shadows. Then there came a single word cried out in agony and then strangled off: “GWa—!”
“Ellos, save us,” Goldarrow said. “Grimwarden, the Gwar have broken through!”
“So fast? Jett, Johnny, fall back with me,” ordered Grimwarden. “I know you’re tired, but you must keep going. Brynn, lead the rest to the hidden gate! All of you, watch your backs!”
Flet Marshall Brynn forged ahead leading the others to safety, while Grimwarden and the two young lords stopped running.
As Grimwarden barked out orders, retreating Elves jostled between bodies and the rock walls. “Johnny, ready your flames, but wait for my signal. We must be sure the remaining Elves get past.”
Grimwarden snatched a war hammer from the holster on his back. “Jett, I know you are better at hand-to-hand, but take this. Make your first blow to the stomach, then to the head. The Gwar are coming, and there are many.”
“How can you see them?” Jett asked.
“I’ve spent more time in the Veil. My eyes have ad—LOOK OUT!”
There was no time for Grimwarden to intervene as a huge Gwar swept a wide-bladed axe toward Jett’s neck. Jett ducked. Using the massive Gwar’s momentum against him, Jett rammed the hammer head into the Gwar’s shoulder, then swung the hammer at the creature’s spine. The Gwar dropped to the ground and did not move.
“Johnny, ready your flames!” Grimwarden hollered.
“Right now?” Johnny answered nervously, wondering how he could work his gift with more accuracy.
“Not yet!” Grimwarden cried just as he swung his war staff into a Gwar’s abdomen. The enemy doubled over, and the Elven commander brought his staff down on the back of the Gwar’s skull, right on his tribal tattoo. The Gwar went down in a heap, but now the staff had a crack running through the center. “Hard-headed beasts!”
Elves, some fighting off Gwar as they ran, continued to race by. What if the Gwar win? What would happen to Autumn?
“Ahhh!” Johnny dove at a Gwar’s legs. The creature rolled but clawed back to his feet. He turned, brandished a mace with curving thornlike spikes, and lunged for Johnny. The young man from the little town in upstate New York felt trapped. One moment he was safe in the comfort of routine—school, homework, bike riding—now he was face-to-face with a monster that he was sure would kill him if he didn’t act. Come on flames! Do your thing. He raised his hands, more out of defense than aggression, and felt tingles on the rims of his eyes. Two white streams sputtered to life, flaring when they hit the Gwar. The engulfed enemy fell to the ground.
Still lying on the ground, Johnny stared at his hands, amazed at the strange power. So it was something he could control. But exactly how, he wasn’t sure. The pure desire to survive was what did the trick now. Grimwarden shouted to his right and pointed to the cliffs. Johnny swallowed and aimed his hands skyward, firing jets of flame high into clefts of rock on the mountainside. He overshot at first, but then found a ledge, letting the liquid fire pool to provide them more light in which to see the enemy.
EEEEeeeee!! came the Kyrin scream as the flying creatures came once more en masse. A small cloud of them dove at Johnny. Again he aimed, held his breath, and raised his hands toward the birds. Nothing happened. For a moment he thought he might be out of gas or something. The Kyrin were racing toward him. He was so tired. He closed his eyes, then—Whoosh!—Johnny felt his shoulders press into the ground from the surge. The Kyrin fell, burning to the ground in black-charred pieces of bone and skin. But their kindred were not scared off, and they continued to attack. The Gwar pushed forward as well, and Johnny had too many targets to hit them all.
“Fall back!” Grimwarden yelled. “They are getting behind us! FALL BACK!”
At last, thought Mr. Wallace as he ran behind the lords. The Gwar have caught up to us. All is turning to chaos. It’s time. He drew a slim dagger from his belt, but his grip felt weak. The dagger became slippery and awkward. He looked at his arms. They wavered in the twilight. No, not now! Not . . . now! He stumbled to one knee.
“Mr. Wallace!” Jimmy exclaimed. “I nearly tripped over yu. Are yu hurt?”
“I . . . I just need a minute,” he replied, but his voice gurgled. “Go on, Jimmy! The only thing that matters is the lords getting to safety.”
Jimmy hesitated a moment. It was terribly hard to see in the gloom, but something seemed very wrong with Mr. Wallace.
“Jimmy, come on,” Regis called from the darkness ahead. Reluctantly, Jimmy left the stricken Sentinel.
But unknown to the others, Mr. Wallace was no Sentinel at all. I must feed. He was desperate now, shaking from head to foot. If any of the Elves saw him, it was over.
“Uhgg—ack!” Not six feet away, a Gwar fell flat on his back with an arrow buried in his eye.
Mr. Wallace vanished, leaving behind only a serpentine length of smoke. Invisible in the Veil’s murk, the smoke traveled to the fallen Gwar and enveloped his head. A few seconds later, Mr. Wallace was whole again. He tossed an arrow to the ground and sprinted after the Elves.
“The enemy cannot be allowed to follow!” Grimwarden declared as he, Jett, and Johnny retreated. Now covered in blood and ash, the Guardmaster of the Elves was nearly spent.
Johnny had incinerated scores of Gwar soldiers. Using his lordly gift, he produced a near impenetrable wall of flame behind them. And try as they might, few Gwar could get through. Those who did fell at the feet of Grimwarden or Jett.
“I think that’s the last of them!” cried Johnny. He willed the fire to stop and scanned the burning carnage behind them. “I think that’s all. . . .” He swayed and would have fallen, but Jett held him up.
“C’mon, Johnny, I’ll help you,” said Jett, taking his new friend’s arm.
“We’ll help each other,” said Grimwarden. “The secret gate waits for us. Let us hope the others have already passed through.”
>
With a little effort, Kiri Lee went airborne and found herself dodging Gwar arrows and fending off Kyrin with her sword. She felt her steps falter in the air. Through the kaleidoscope of black wings, the hail of arrows, and the gray shroud of the Veil, Kiri Lee watched as three Gwar—massive, lumbering beasts—converged on the Sentinels. They slammed into Edward and Miss Finney from behind, sending the protectors sprawling to the ground.
Kat, too, had been tripped and tumbled to a harsh stop, rolling onto her back at the base of a hedge of stone. Kiri Lee thought Kat looked unconscious, but at least the Gwar had left her alone. She began to make her way toward Kat; then she saw him. Oh, thank God. It’s Mr. Wallace. He’s coming to help her. Kiri Lee watched the Sentinel stride purposefully toward the fallen teen. Mr. Wallace reached beneath his cloak and pulled something out . . . a dagger? What’s he do—
EEEEeeeee! She saw a flash of luminous green eyes, then felt searing pain. A Kyrin had dug its claws into Kiri Lee’s shoulder. It started to peck and slash at her face with its beak. Kiri Lee cartwheeled backward in the air. She tried to slash at it with her sword, but the effort took her focus off her wind walking and she started to sink.
Kat coughed and snapped awake. Pain throbbed in three different places. Something had hit her. A Gwar? There was sudden movement. Kat looked up. It was Mr. Wallace. He held a dagger in his right hand. The look on his face—Kat had never seen it before. Furious . . . no, murderous. Kat felt a sharp pain as she backed into the hedge of stone behind her, falling onto her elbows in a vain effort to escape. Mr. Wallace was almost upon her now. Kat screamed.
Just then a huge gray shadow filled her vision. There was a growling, guttural roar, and a massive Gwar soldier fell at Kat’s feet. Mr. Wallace clung to its back and stabbed it repeatedly with his dagger. The creature struggled, but was losing strength. It made one last effort to reach around, but Mr. Wallace slid his blade under the creature’s neck and gave a swift pull. The Gwar went still as if it were some electric thing that had been unplugged.
Mr. Wallace looked up at Kat his expression still fierce, but then softened. “Are you okay?” he asked. He started to hold out his right hand, but realizing it was covered in blood he held out his left. He helped Kat to her feet. “Kat . . . are you okay?”
“I . . . I thought . . .”
“Thought what?”
Kat blinked and looked at her former social studies and history teacher. “Nevermind. Yeah, I’m okay . . . thanks to you.”
Kiri Lee twisted around so that the Kyrin clinging to her shoulder would be the first thing to hit the ground. Kiri Lee cried out from the impact. The crushed Kyrin let go of its intended victim, but quickly latched onto her forearm, claws sinking deep into her skin, forcing her to drop her sword. It pecked at the leather bracer on her wrist and dug its talons farther into her soft flesh. Not knowing what else to do, Kiri Lee reached with her free hand, grabbed the Kyrin by its neck, and squeezed. The Kyrin flailed its wings and claws, slicing Kiri Lee’s arm, but she just squeezed harder. Soon the creature squealed and went limp. Kiri Lee tore it from her arm and tossed it aside, breathing heavily.
Jimmy, with Regis at his heels, raced back to find Edward and Miss Finney, bloody and exhausted, standing over three dead Gwar. “I saw them in me head,” Jimmy said, “comin’ for yu! And there was a fourth one, too.”
“Mr. Wallace took care of it,” Kat said as she and her Sentinel joined the others.
“Him,” Mr. Wallace corrected. “Took care of him. The Spider King’s Gwar are our enemies, but they are still beings.”
“Quite right,” said Edward. “Alas that they are enemies at all.”
“But they are,” said Miss Finney. “And I do not want any more of them to sneak up on us. We need to get moving.”
Ferral had watched many of his kindred burn alive in the attempt to breach the wall of flames, including Sorbin, his commander. The Gwar soldier wondered if any survived at all. From his vantage point in a fissure of stone some forty feet up the mountainside, he could see nothing moving on the path below . . . except for pockets of Kyrin feeding on the dead. Go after the Elves? Ferral banished the thought from his mind. That was certain death. Foolish, too. The Spider King needed to know all that had happened. Perhaps, he thought, I might get a handful of vanadils for my trouble. The thought of the silvery-blue coins made him smile. Then he had another thought, and the grin that had begun to form vanished. He might not believe me.
Ferral clambered out of his hiding place. Best get some proof.
2
Rip Currents
THREE ELVES stood straining to see into the darkness as they waited in front of a peculiar fin of rock at the base of the mountain. Flet Marshall Brynn, Goldarrow, and Tommy had all but given up hope when they heard a familiar voice.
“Hail, Goldarrow!” Grimwarden shouted. “Look who I found!”
“Oh, thank Ellos,” Goldarrow replied, seeing the large group of Elves returning.
Tommy saw as well. “Kat!” He ran to her but stopped short. Whoa, he thought. I almost hugged her. “What happened to you?” he asked instead. “You were behind me one second . . . then whoosh!”
“It’s a long story,” she replied, glancing at Mr. Wallace.
“We waited as long as we could,” said Goldarrow, hugging Grimwarden, which earned curious looks from Flet Marshall Brynn and the other Sentinels.
“Probably too long,” said Grimwarden, clearing his throat and squirming until she let go.
“Where’s Autumn?” Johnny asked, looking around the group.
“Claris took Autumn through,” said Brynn.
“Good,” said Grimwarden.
“Mr. Grimwarden, sir?” Johnny said.
Grimwarden laughed. “Lord Albriand, ha! To think that a lord would call me sir. What is it, lad?”
Albriand? Johnny ignored the strange name he used, then pressed himself past the others. “My sister”—he said lowering his voice— “how far is she from wherever the help is?”
“Quite far,” Grimwarden replied.
Johnny’s tired eyes widened, panic starting to edge into his expression.
“If Claris and the others were taking Autumn by foot, then we would be right to worry, but they are not traveling by foot.”
“They’re not?” Johnny frowned.
“They’re not?” asked Goldarrow.
“No,” said Grimwarden with a hardly perceptible wink to Goldarrow. “And neither are we. I told you, this is a shortcut.”
“Forgive me for before, Guardmaster,” Goldarrow said, adding rather formally, “. . . for questioning your path.”
“Elle,” he responded, “do not waste another moment thinking of it. Thank Ellos the seven young lords are all alive. Thanks to Johnny . . . and the Kyrin, I don’t think there are any Gwar coming behind us, but we dare not linger in this part of the world.”
He led them behind the fold of rock and kindled a torch. Then he made a turn where it seemed there was no passage, yet disappeared into blackness. The others followed until all the Elves disappeared into the mountain.
Like a serpent of fire, a long line of torch-bearing Elves—flet soldiers, Dreadnaughts, Sentinels, and the lords—followed Grimwarden down into the winding depths of the black abyss before them. The path into the underground alternated between great high chambers and cramped tunnels with ceilings that were shoulder height at best. In some of the low places, Tommy noticed the rock above was stained with black soot from the torches. Their party was clearly not the first to have traveled this way.
After an hour or more of twists and turns, their war band entered a cavernous chamber. “What’s that shushing sound?” asked Kat.
No one answered. And as they traveled on, the shushing blossomed into a full-fledged roar. “I don’t like this,” said Tommy.
“I hear you,” said Jett.
“Where are we?” Kiri Lee asked.
“Wait here,” Grimwarden commanded, moving away from the group with his t
orch in hand. They watched as he edged along a narrow ledge and eventually stopped beside a rope tied off to an iron ring protruding from the wall. He raised his torch, revealing what Tommy thought resembled a large, horizontal wagon wheel on the other end of the rope. Grimwarden set the chandelier ablaze and then released the rope from the iron ring. The brilliant light swung out into the middle of what was once a majestic hall, the ceiling held aloft by water-worn columns of sandstone that plummeted into a churning tumult of water. They all looked on in awe at the marvelous sight.
“It’s an underground river!” Johnny exclaimed.
“An aquifer, to be more precise,” Grimwarden corrected, now back from the ledge.
“Your shortcut?” Goldarrow asked.
Grimwarden nodded. Then he turned and addressed the Elves. “We’ll break up into teams of no more than five. Any more and the cavesurfers will capsize.”
“Cavesurfers?” Kat whispered.
“Sweet!” Tommy pumped his fist, but then turned red at the stares he’d earned.
“Each watercraft must be piloted by one of our trained cavesurfer flet soldiers or anyone with equal experience.”
“I can pilot one,” said Regis. “It’s been awhile . . . but I used to be pretty good.”
“It looks much like a rapid-runner,” said Anna. “Do they handle about the same?”
“Precisely the same,” said Grimwarden. “Even with five aboard, you’ll turn at will.”
Venom and Song Page 2
