In her hand she held a ball of wax—within it, an eye plucked from some unfortunate goblin’s head. It rotated up to look at her. Amina leaned over and whispered an incantation. The eye blinked and began spinning furiously within the wax.
The stone wall gave way and split along a crease of light. A trinity of wraiths emerged and hovered at a distance from Amina. She spoke to them in a deep monotone, pointing and commanding. The cloaked apparitions seemed to tilt forward, as children might curtsey to an adult. With lightning quickness, they scattered in three directions, each uttering a terrifying shriek as they went.
It seemed a fire was burning through from the other side of the rift. With a wide grin, Amina the Conjurer stepped into the flames and passed through to the other realm.
29
Why is this taking so long?
It was near dusk and Opal was beginning to become impatient with Luka’s plan. It was hard to believe that she couldn’t make her own way—and a lot faster.
Men always think they know what’s best. Ridiculous!
She preferred leading to being led, and figured she was pretty dang good at it. She grumbled to herself as she helped Luka prepare a makeshift camp in a cluster of pines just off the path they had been traveling.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“Everything,” she said.
Luka didn’t press for more details.
They made a dinner of what was left of the walnuts and mushrooms. He had more cheese and some dried jerky. And they ate blackberries from a bush Opal found near a creek that cut through their campsite twenty yards to the west.
Luka used several flat rocks to create a shelter for their fire. The rocks made an oven that glowed a dull orange and spurted an occasional flame. It would be hidden from anyone passing by, and the smoke would be filtered up through the pines. A tea made of ginseng and mint boiled in a small copper pot.
“This will give you energy, clear your mind, and help you rest. Drink it all,” he said, handing her the cup.
She ate the last of the blackberries and jerky and drank down the tea. When she was done eating, she studied Luka’s dagger. She lay down and stared at the gemstone. Slowly, it began to pulse like a pocket-sized star. It was perfect. It was comfort. Her eyes grew heavy. Within minutes, she was asleep.
In her dreams, the moon looked like her necklace when it glowed with magic. It lit an indigo-colored path down to the river where a canoe was waiting. Soon she was nestled in the hull while little ropes of light hinged to the stars towed the boat along. Then the weather changed and the waves began to rock her canoe. In the distance, on a southern bank, a person with a large staff herded three monsters like an evil shepherd. The largest of the monsters had shimmering silver bristles. She floated by the creatures, but saw them again, ahead of her, at the next bend. And again at the next. They were relentless.
Finally, they began to wade into the water along a sandbar that stretched into the river.
They’re coming to kill me, I know it!
The growls were terrifying.
That’s when Luka woke her, shaking her out of her dream.
“Don’t move!” he whispered in her ear. “We have trouble!”
30
Tirian Salvus trotted his favorite firehorse along a tract of sand and pumice, across a low creek, through brambles and blackberry vines, up a steep grade of sandy stone and black slate, and onto a flat knob hill.
Ahead was the breach. It hung like a mirror of shimmering blacksmith steel. It seemed fastened to the sky itself. It hovered between where the hill broke off and a cliff in the distance. Below was a jagged ravine with water rushing through it. The gap between was five or six horses long and there was no bridge.
“Well Remm, it’s now or never!” he yelled. “Leap like you’ve never leapt before, or there ain’t gonna be another verse to this song.”
He circled back around to the furthest point from the cliff. He kicked the firehorse into a gallop and leaned into the run. Flames burst down and across the horse in a brilliant eruption. Tirian could feel the tingle and heat of the magical fire.
He glanced at the bridle just as it came to life. The crystal bit flickered then erupted with dazzling white light. The entire harness was enveloped in the energy.
Tirian raced on toward the cliff. The sky-mirror cracked down its middle, web-like fissures exploding across its expanse. The horse made a tremendous jump into the air. Fragments of the sky-mirror fell away and began twisting in the air. They were sucked into a funnel of energy. Horse and rider flew forward, straining for the grassy ledge beyond.
31
Through the pine trees, Opal could see that her nightmare had come to life. In the moonlight, the immense forms of the animals were clearly outlined. And their eye-shine appeared and disappeared in the darkness.
“What are those things?” she asked in a whisper. He motioned her to keep quiet.
Opal was awake, but her nightmare predators still hunted her, and they were so close that she could feel their evil intent like a blast of cold air. It froze her to the spot.
What is happening? How could that dream be real?
No matter how crazy it seemed, the animals were real, circling and snorting through the forest, drawing closer like hounds hunting a raccoon.
Luka positioned himself and his rifle for action. The fire was out and his pack was rolled up and strapped on his back. Opal reached for the dagger and gripped it as tight as she could.
“Stay here. I have to throw them off our trail. I can take them out with my rifle if I keep some distance. If I fire from here and they come in close, I won’t be able to protect you. When you hear me fire my gun, run down the path and cut over to the river. Follow the river east until full light, then hide. I will find you there.”
“What are they, Luka?” Opal asked.
“Wild boar, corrupted by dark sorcery!”
“Did the Hoods send them?”
“No, this is different, but we can’t talk any more. They are too close. Do you understand what I’ve told you to do?”
“Yes, follow the river. Do you understand that I don’t think you know what you’re doing? I thought you were careful as a bobcat. How are they tracking us?”
“I don’t know. Do you think you would have done better on your own?”
“We don’t have time to argue it.”
She was a ball of frustration. She was both angry and scared. Luka scowled at her.
“Just remember to wait for my signal,” he said. He ran from their camp and disappeared into the forest.
After what seemed like an eternity, the monsters turned their attention to something in the distance. The light was too dim and the forest too thick for her to get a good look, but she could hear them as they headed back to the south in a gallop. One shot rang out, and then another followed it. The grunts turned to high pitch squeals that echoed through the forest.
Opal took that as a cue and sprinted as hard as she could up the path.
The river. Get to the river!
32
Opal loved running through the woods on late summer nights when the whole family was out to her place. Usually there was a potluck meal, then the older folks would spread out on the back porch. Jimmy Parsons, a good friend of Uncle Roe, would play his guitar. He’d sing blues songs all night.
That music inspired like a church sermon. On some songs, Jimmy fit a piece of glass on his ring finger and slid it up and down the strings. It sounded like a woman singing in harmony with his gravelly voice.
“The blues is a feeling,” Jimmy said. “Something that sneaks up and catches you by the heartstrings. It don’t leave you till you sing it out!”
The adults would sing along, hum, hoot, and holler. They drank moonshine called Foxhead, ate pie, and even danced. They would shoo away the children who circled up wide-eyed, astonished at their parents doing things that they would never do at home.
The kids—Opal and her friends—would make up
games and run in circles in the yard. Right past dusk, they would catch fireflies in old canning jars and fight over who had the brightest lantern.
When it got a bit darker, they would play a kind of hide-and-seek at the edge of the woods, next to the cornfield. They would divide into teams. There were two tree-bases, where they would tie an old dishrags. Each team tried to protect their own flag, and capture the other. There was a lot of sneaking, hiding, and running through the forest—most of all, there was a great deal of joy.
Tonight Opal was running through the forest scared out of her mind. Luka’s rifle shot had triggered her sprint through the pine thicket. She headed north to the river, just as she had been told. Behind her, she heard the wails of the monsters. The guttural moans and screeching roars made her believe in demons—and they were in hot pursuit.
The moon was low in the sky, but enough of its light was left that Opal could stick to the path. The clearer the path, the faster she could run. When it was obscured, she slowed down. More gunshots followed in quick succession. She hoped Luka had taken out all of their attackers.
A few minutes later, she crested a small hill on the path and heard something breaking through the brush to the west of her. To the east, the sound of an animal shadowing her was clear. It was in a strong gallop. She ran down the steep grade. The momentum of her body seemed out of control, but she didn’t care.
In the moonlight, she saw something in the path. It appeared to be a small animal, like a squirrel. She was sure that as she got closer the animal would scatter, but it didn’t move. As she closed in, she noticed it was not one, but two, maybe three, small animals. Perplexed, she reached out in the dark to spook the critters. Her hand brushed one. She pulled back her hand and found it covered in something wet and warm. She smelled the unmistakable metallic odor of blood.
Opal wiped it away frantically. She looked closer and then picked one of the animals up by the tail. Foxes! The baby foxes they’d passed the day before were now lying in front of her, butchered. She was outraged.
Who would do this?
Opal flung the remains into the brush. More blood splattered across her legs. Disgusted and angry, she ran on. But because she had stopped, her pursuers were upon her. The beast was in the woods to her right; she could see its huge form, with its razor-like back, rising in the moonlight. It slowed its gallop and turned toward her.
The river was close; it was her only hope. She was a good swimmer.
If I can make it to the river, dive in, and swim fast as the river can carry me, I might escape.
She ran forward until she recognized the sound of fast moving water. She could also hear the monsters getting closer.
I’m covered in blood! They have my scent!
As Opal rounded a bend in the road, her heart dropped into her stomach.
In front of her was a creature the size of a bear, but the shape of a boar. It snorted through its ugly, misshapen snout, and its hooves pawed the ground. Sharp yellow tusks curled up from its mouth. It seemed to be salivating, and long strings of egg white goo fell from its frothy fangs. Its back was covered in a crest of long, fin-like bristles colored like the rest of its red brindle hide. The eyes of the beast seemed human, and they burned at Opal in a way that was like a man staring down another man. The monster seemed prehistoric. It stood up on its hind legs, roared an ungodly roar, and started walking toward her.
Tears welled in Opal’s eyes, but her determination to survive was stronger than her desire to cry. She turned around and made it ten yards back up the trail when an even larger boar-monster—this one grizzled-grey—slid into her path.
In the moonlight, she could see it was chewing something with its scar-covered snout. It spit the thing from its mouth. The head of the mother fox rolled up to Opal’s feet and stared her in the eyes.
The fox killer!
She backed up in horror, but the red boar was moving into position behind her. She was surrounded but also enraged. She unsheathed Luka’s dagger and stepped forward.
Right away she could see that the crystal fixed in the metal of the blade had become luminous. At the same time, she heard her necklace sing as it heated-up. It began to glow more intensely than ever before. The two stones seemed to be pulsing in sequence.
The monsters seemed to have no fear, but with the two stones working together, neither did Opal. Foxkiller lunged. Its jaw snapped like a bear trap. Opal swung wildly and cut across its hideous snout. The blade sparked with a blue crackling flame as it met the flesh of the creature. The beast wailed and backed away, its flesh sizzled. Opal was shocked, and she laughed at her luck. She had added a new scar to the monster’s muzzle.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” she yelled. “GO!”
Redboar was making its move from behind. It charged and swiped its tusk at her legs. Magical energy burst from her necklace. She swung wildly and managed to cut the boar down its face as they slammed into each other. The collision sent Opal flying through the air and into a nest of ferns and cedar shrubs. Redboar howled and stood up, clawing at its face. Opal could see it had lost its eye to her sapphire-colored dagger. Stunned and bruised, she scrambled to her feet and ran for the water as fast as she could.
I’m going to make it!
Foxkiller slammed into her with an excruciating thud. She flew through the air and landed on the sandy bank just feet from the water. The dagger sailed into the shadows. Foxkiller was upon her again and slashed at her back with its tusk. She could feel her flesh rip and warm blood flow immediately down her side. She screamed out in pain but rolled over and scrambled to her feet. Foxkiller circled around and Redboar charged toward her. They were coming to finish her off.
Opal steadied herself. The stone surged. The electric-fire engulfed her body and her hand was consumed by the magic. Just as Redboar hit her, she hit back. Her hand turned into sapphire-lightning, and it buried itself deep in the skull of the razorback. The creature skidded through the wet sand to a complete and dead stop.
She was thrown into the water. When she came up for air, she could see Foxkiller curiously sniffing its companion—it appeared dead. Foxkiller turned toward her with a roar and began to make tentative strides out into the river.
Opal had no fight left in her, and no weapon. She had magically plunged her hand into the skull of the boar, like sinking Excalibur in King Arthur’s stone. But she had no idea how to do it again. A large piece of driftwood protruded from the sand next to her. She grabbed one end and dislodged it. She dragged herself out into the river. Holding tightly to the log, she set herself adrift.
Foxkiller stopped following her. As she moved into the current, behind the great boar, another terror emerged from the night. It was the evil shepherd from her nightmare, and it was enraged to find one of its pets dead.
In one hand the shepherd carried a wooden staff. It was twisted and knotted at the top—a misshapen crook with purple flames. It had something else in the other hand. It yelled at Opal. Long flowing black hair danced around her menacing, animal-like eyes.
A witch.
Her angry scream sent a shudder through Opal. Then the witch lifted something over her head. She was showing Opal her prize.
Luka’s rifle!
After communicating that message, she cast a spell that caused the rifle to erupt into flames. She tossed it into the river, pulled her purple cloak around her body, turned, and disappeared into the forest.
Foxkiller followed its master like a well-trained dog.
Opal surged forward in the water. She watched the bank where the battle had taken place as long as she could. Her enemies faded back into her nightmares.
Opal had killed one of the witch’s pets. The witch had killed Luka.
The war wasn’t over.
33
A large black bear with streaks of cinnamon fur lay in wait near the edge of a grassy clearing. It seemed intent on ambushing the straggling elk cow rummaging a bit too far from the rest of its female companions. The bear tensed in anticipation as
the elk moved closer to the red buckeye shrubs where it was waiting. Just as it was about to pounce, lightning split the sky.
Tirian Salvus, firehorse and all, bounded through the opening. The bear reared at the sight, spooking the cow. The entire elk herd scattered in a thunderous stampede. Tirian and horse skidded to a very ungraceful stop.
“Whoa!” Tirian yelled, pulling on the gilded reigns.
His firehorse snorted and shook its head, as if to say, That was the dumbest thing a human has ever asked me to do.
“Thank heaven. We made it old man,” Tirian said. “Good work. Remm. Fine job. There’s no other firehorse like you. No other!”
Tirian patted Remm affectionately. The firehorse trotted in circles, surveying their surroundings. The crystal bridle settled and dimmed.
Tirian knew this tract of land. This was Gabriel’s Horn, an island at the confluence of the Buffalo River and the White River. It was shaped like a blacksmith’s anvil. Grigg’s Landing was just over the river to the south.
Why were you here Luka? Does Prismore have you on some other secret mission?
Tirian pulled an object from his possibles bag. He unwrapped its cloth covering. A cold steel mourning dove lay in his hand as if it were dead. He raised it to his mouth and blew over the wings. Odd inscriptions materialized in the warm fog of his breath. He whispered the spell and the bird came to life.
When it flittered its wings, it made a sound like a knife being sharpened. The bird machine took flight. Tirian watched as it flew in circles around the horse and rider. It gave a coo similar to a real dove, but more reverberant. It flew southeast at great speed and finally landed among the limbs of a sycamore tree just across the river.
Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap Page 8
