by Mark Anthony
The thought made his head spin. However, he could wonder about it later. Jack was in town, but so was the sorcerer, and he was planning something. What it was, Travis wasn’t certain, only that the Scirathi no doubt wanted to use Jack to find a way to return to the future. And that the sorcerer intended to kill Sareth before he left.
“May I see it, Travis?” Jack said, his expression eager. “The scarab you spoke of? I’ve heard of such artifacts, but I’ve never witnessed one with my own eyes.”
Travis reached into his pocket and drew out the golden spider. The drop of blood that lay within was their key back to Eldh, along with the gate artifact hidden in the rafters up in their room.
“Hold out your hand,” Travis said. He let the spider crawl to his fingertip, then over onto Jack’s hand.
“Why, it tickles!” Jack said, laughing.
Lirith smiled. “I think it likes you.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.” He lifted his hand, studying the scarab. “How marvelous, to think that in my hand I hold the blood of a god.”
Durge glowered at this. “King Orú was not a true god. We heard the tale from the Mournish, who are descendants of his people. Orú was a sorcerer into whose veins entered thirteen spirits. He was powerful, yes, but he was only a man, not a god like Jorus or Yrsaia or Vathris.”
“My good man,” Jack said, looking up, “it was from the blood of Orú that Jorus, Yrsaia, and Vathris arose. They and all of the New Gods of the mystery cults.”
Durge’s mustaches pulled down. “But that’s impossible.”
“And have you made a particular study of the origins of gods, Lord Stonebreak? Do tell me more of your studies concerning gods.”
Durge clamped his mouth shut.
Lirith reached out and stroked the scarab with a finger. “How can it be, Lord Graystone? How can Orú have been the father of the New Gods?”
Jack smiled at the witch. “I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers, my dear. It was all very long ago, and well before my time. And it wasn’t just Orú—it was all the sorcerers. Do you know of the cities of Amún, which were raised in the far south eons ago?”
She nodded. “They were home to sorcerers and ruled by the god-kings. One of the most powerful cities was Morindu the Dark, which was ruled by Orú. But after the thirteen morndari entered his body, Orú fell into an endless slumber, and his priests ruled in his name. And then there was a great conflict, in which the sorcerers rose up against the god-kings, and the god-kings tried to smite them, and all of Amún was laid waste.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Jack said. “And in the destruction of Amún, the blood of countless sorcerers was spilled, so that the great river Emyr ran red with it, and the land was stained dark. In the end, the course of the Emyr was changed, so that it flowed north, not south, and Amún became a desert, and those who survived fled. But the blood of power remained in the soil. And the soil became dust. And the dust blew out over the world, and people breathed it, and ate it, and took it inside them grain by grain over the centuries.”
Lirith’s eyes were wide with wonder. “But what did it do to them, to the people?”
“I think it gave them the power to believe.” Jack let the scarab crawl into his other hand. “Of course, one person alone could never have breathed enough dust to amount to anything much. Nor a dozen people, or even a hundred. But when thousands came together and believed in the same thing...well, my dear, that was when magic happened.”
Understanding sizzled in Travis’s brain. “So when enough people believed in a god, that god became real.”
“In a way,” Jack said. “Although I think it’s a bit more complicated than that. You see, the mystery of each cult tells how one man or woman was transformed into a god. I think those people must have been different somehow. Perhaps they were more sensitive to the ancient dust, or consumed more of it. People like King Vathris, and the young huntress Yrsaia.”
And Melia, Travis thought, who escaped betrothal to a tyrant by marrying the moon.
The gold spider perched on the tip of Jack’s finger. “The blood of the mysteries is right here in my hand,” he said softly. “And it’s in every one of us, just waiting to become something wonderful, if only we believe.”
Travis felt a tingling course through him. He glanced at Lirith and Durge, but the witch seemed lost in thought, a hand to her breast, and the knight gazed down at his gnarled hands. Travis reached out, and the scarab crawled back onto his palm.
“Jack, there’s something we need to know—is there a way we can get back to our own time?”
“Why, don’t you like this one?”
Travis bit his lip. “It’s fine. It’s just not ours, that’s all. There are people who will miss us.” In his mind he pictured a tall blond man with a brilliant smile. However, the image kept wavering, becoming a woman with golden eyes before flickering back. “Please.”
“Well, it’s simple enough. You’re a runelord, Travis. And a good one, I might add, since it’s my ability you’ve got in you. All you have to do is break the rune of time.”
“And where could I find the rune of time?”
“You don’t have one?”
“I’m fresh out,” Travis said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, dear,” Jack said. “That was always a tricky one to make. It took a good number of us to bind, so we never had many of them. Let me think.” He tapped his brow. “It was all so long ago—things can get a bit foggy after seven centuries. And it was not long after we all fled Malachor that I used the Stone to come here, to Earth. But I did manage to speak with a band of apprentices, those who favored the art of runebreaking. They told me they were going to raise a tower at the western tip of the Fal Sinfath. They had a good number of artifacts in their possession. I’m quite certain a bound rune of time was among them. You could go to their tower.”
“To the Black Tower of the Runebreakers?” Travis said, and Lirith shot him a startled look.
“Weren’t they evil?” the witch said. “The Runebreakers. Didn’t they destroy things?”
Jack gave her a sharp look. “Really, my dear, I would think a daughter of Sia of all people would know there can be no sowing without reaping, and no creation without destruction.”
Lirith said nothing, but Travis could still feel her eyes boring into him.
“Is it not dangerous to break runes?” Durge said.
“Oh, yes,” Jack said excitedly. “Quite dangerous. Why, the apprentices I met, the ones who were going to raise the tower and study runebreaking, had some artifacts of terrible power and peril. It’s a wonder, really, that they didn’t do something horrible.”
Durge scowled. “Like what?”
“Like breaking the rune of sky and opening a crack in the world. Trust me, my good man, that’s something you don’t want to do. All sorts of horrible and nameless things lurk just beyond the boundaries of the world. They’ve been there for eons, only waiting for a chance to get in.”
Travis looked at Durge and Lirith. “We have to go to the Black Tower of the Runebreakers. If the rune of time is anywhere, that’s where it’ll—”
Crash!
The muffled noise of splintering glass came from above. All of them looked up. There was a thudding sound, followed by another crash.
“By Vesta, that doesn’t sound good,” Jack said.
Durge was already on his feet and moving toward the stairs. Travis hurried after him.
“Lirith,” he said over his shoulder. “Watch Jack.”
The witch nodded. Jack nervously petted Miss Guenivere, for the little cat had leaped into his lap at the noise.
Travis followed Durge up the stairs. The boardinghouse was quiet now. Travis wished he had his Malachorian stiletto, but it was up in their room. All Durge had was his empty gun.
They reached the third-floor hallway. All of the doors were shut. Durge opened the door to Lirith’s room, but there was nothing inside. Then the knight opened the door to the room he and Travis sha
red.
Night air rushed out, cool against their faces. Glass crunched under their boots; the window had been smashed in. The beds were overturned, and the drawers of the bureau had been ripped open.
Durge peered out the window. “It seems the thief is gone.” Travis moved farther into the room. Nothing seemed to be missing. The sack of money they had saved was still in the bureau. So what had the thief taken?
Durge must have had the same thought. As one, the two men looked up at the rafters. Then they were moving. Durge got a chair, and Travis scrambled onto it, reaching up a hand and feeling along the top of the rafter.
His fingers met nothing. He searched a few moments more, but in his heart he already knew the truth, and by the look on his face so did Durge. A wave of dizziness crashed through Travis, so strong he would have fallen if Durge hadn’t helped him down.
“The gate artifact is gone,” Travis said.
52.
Morning brought light but little comfort. Travis, Lirith, Durge, and Jack sat around the dining table in grim silence. The other boarders had headed off to the mines for the day, and by the clatter of dishes and the sound of coughing that drifted through the door, both Liza and Maudie were in the kitchen.
They had finally gone to bed as the grandfather clock in the parlor struck three, after Durge and Travis cleaned up the broken glass in their room and boarded the window. Lirith had cast a spell around the Bluebell, one that would alert her if anyone tried to enter, but not even Durge had believed the sorcerer would return that night. The Scirathi had gotten everything he had come for.
Or had he? Travis slipped a hand into his pocket, and he felt the touch of the scarab. Without the blood contained in the jewel, the gate was worthless. Which means he’s coming back. The sorcerer isn’t going to stop until he has both the gate and the scarab.
Lirith raised an eyebrow. “Is the coffee too strong, Travis?”
He must have been grimacing. “I don’t think it could possibly be too strong today.”
Lirith nodded as she took a sip from her own cup. Travis doubted any of them had gotten a wink of sleep during the fractured remnants of the night. There were dark circles under Lirith’s eyes, and Durge’s face was even more careworn than usual.
Of them all, only Jack seemed to be of good cheer. The gray pallor of the previous night was gone, and his cheeks were rosy and eyes bright. Which made sense. Jack had been feeling ill and weak ever since Travis entered the year 1883; his power as a runelord had been stretched thousands of miles across an ocean. But now Travis was sitting just a few feet away.
“I must say, Travis,” Jack said, munching on a piece of toast slathered with marmalade, “I didn’t have the foggiest notion of what I was going to do with myself here in Castle City. But I rather like your suggestion of an antique store. This town is far too new—it could do with a bit of history.”
Travis rubbed his stubbly head. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Jack. You will open an antique store. I know because that’s how I met you. Or will meet you. You’ll come by the Mine Shaft one day and ask if you can look for antiques in the—oh.” He clamped his mouth shut. Had he said too much?
Maybe you’re supposed to a fect the future, Travis. Maybe nothing that’s supposed to happen then would take place if you weren’t here now. After all, if Jack didn’t meet you here in 1883, he probably never would have come by the Mine Shaft that day, and you never would have become friends, and that means you would never have gotten Sinfathisar or gone to Eldh.
Travis felt queasy. There was something there, something important, just out of reach. It had to do with affecting the future. Before he could grasp it, Durge spoke.
“I suppose the sorcerer heard everything we said last night. Only I don’t understand how he could get so close without my detecting him. Or you, my lady.” The knight glanced at Lirith.
Jack drizzled honey into his tea. “The sorcerer didn’t need to get close. I don’t know a great deal about the magic of the far south, but I suspect a spell that allows him to hear others at a distance is well within his capabilities.”
“Then that means he could be listening to us right now,” Durge said, glowering.
Jack nodded. “Almost certainly.”
“No,” Lirith said, setting down her cup. “If he listens, he will hear talk, but it will not be ours. I’ve seen to that.”
Jack smiled at Lirith. “That’s clever, my dear—clever indeed. We can’t prevent him from listening to us, but thanks to you we can choose what he will hear when he does. You’re very skilled at the craft of illusion.”
Durge cast a startled look at Lirith. However, before the knight could speak, Maudie stepped through the kitchen door. Durge rose and pulled out a chair for her.
“How’s your tea, Mr. Graystone?” she asked as she sat down. “I bought it at McKay’s, but I don’t know what it’s called. Is it as good as that tea you said you liked—your Prince Green?”
“Earl Grey,” Jack gently corrected. “And I believe that’s exactly what this is. So it’s quite good, thank you.”
Maudie looked a little better that morning. She had slept all night, thanks to one of Lirith’s potions. And that meant she hadn’t heard about the break-in. Travis knew they had to tell her, only Durge was faster.
“Lord above!” Maudie said, pressing a hand to her chest, when Durge finished speaking. “The hoodlums in this town get bolder by the day. Was anything stolen?”
Jack started to open his mouth, and Travis gave him a hard look.
“No,” Travis said.
Maudie leaned back in her chair, looking relieved. “Well, then it sounds like they weren’t thieves at all. Just vandals— young men who had drunk more whiskey than they could hold. I suppose they threw a rock through the window.”
“How is Lord Barrett this morning?” Lirith said, deftly changing the subject.
Maudie’s smile was both fond and sad. “Liza said he’s still sleeping. His cuts are starting to heal up, so that’s good. Some are going to scar, but he never was much of a looker anyway. His charms were all in his manner of speaking.”
Lirith took Maudie’s hand in her own. “He does have a beautiful voice.”
“Only I wonder if we’ll ever hear it again.” Maudie shook her head. “Poor Niles. He never hurt anyone in his life. It’s not right that such a kind man should have to suffer so, and for no reason at all. Just because the Good Lord chose to mold him from different clay than other men.”
A fit of coughing gripped Maudie, and Lirith helped her up and into the kitchen to get some water. Lirith returned a minute later with a fresh pot of coffee.
Travis gazed at his hands on the table. “I suppose he’ll be coming for the scarab soon.” He knew he sounded a bit like Durge right then, but he couldn’t help it. Niles Barrett wasn’t waking up, Maudie was dying, and the sorcerer was in league with the Crusade for Purity. “It’s the only thing he still needs to return to the future.”
“You’re not thinking, Travis,” Jack said, shaggy eyebrows drawing together in a glower. “Our enemy is a sorcerer, not a runelord. There’s simply no way he can use the rune of time to return to his own century. And he knows it.”
Travis hadn’t thought of that. And by their surprised looks, neither had Lirith or Durge.
“I don’t know what the sorcerer wants,” Jack said. “However, whatever it is, I imagine it’s the same thing he came to London for. Our enemy is up to something, and I’m quite certain it can’t be good.”
That was surely an understatement. “Can’t you do something, Jack? Can’t you stop him?”
A bit of weariness stole once more across Jack’s face. “I don’t think I can. Even if my powers were great enough to do so, as long as you’re here, they’re not at my command. I’m afraid you’re the runelord now, Travis, not me.”
Travis’s heart sank. So far he hadn’t shown himself to be much of a runelord. He was as likely to harm with his power as help. However, he felt Lirith and Durge watchi
ng him.
“I’ll just have to find a way to get the gate back from the sorcerer,” he said, although he didn’t sound very convincing even to himself.
Jack took another piece of toast. “Why go to all the bother with that old thing? Why don’t you simply use the Stone to return to Eldh?”
Travis’s blood ran cold. “What?”
“You needn’t act so surprised,” Jack said, scowling. “After all, how do you think I got here in the first place? The three Great Stones fell to Eldh, but they’re not of it. In a way, I think they belong to all of the worlds. And with a Stone, travel among the worlds is possible. Or at least between this world and Eldh, for they seem to be rather close together. And getting closer all the time.”
Travis was sorry he had drunk so much coffee. It seemed to burn a hole in his stomach.
“Can you do it, Travis?” Durge said. “Can you use the Stone to return us to Eldh?”
Jack waved a butter knife at the knight. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? By the gods of this world and that, he’s a runelord. And a good one, since I made him. It’s in his blood. The Stone will heed his command.”
“Please, Travis,” Lirith said. “We have to go back. We have to take Sareth home. I think I know now why he’s been getting sicker. It’s his leg. It was the demon that took his leg from him. The demon was forged from the morndari, and the morndari inhabit the Void between the worlds. I think passing through the Void inflamed his wound somehow. I think it’s consuming him, and it won’t stop...” She took a shuddering breath. “It won’t stop until he’s gone.”
She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Please, Travis. If we get him back to Eldh, I think I can heal him. But I can’t do it here. The Weirding is too weak, and I have none of my sisters to lend me their power.”
She didn’t know what she was asking. He wasn’t Jack. And he wasn’t a runelord, despite everything that had been done to him. He hadn’t asked for this power, and he had done everything he could to hide it away. Because it seemed like every time he let it out, people died.
