He turned and shot two arrows. They spun toward the girls in quick succession and whizzed by so dangerously close that the girls were forced to scatter.
The Ranger activated a hidden lever in the stone wall. Eltheon fired her own arrow at the Ranger. He turned and batted it out of the air. She vaulted toward him, but he was too quick. He kicked Eltheon in her wounded shoulder. She fell down and fresh blood began to seep through her bandages. Opal rushed to her side just as the Ranger fled into the secret passageway.
“I’m alright, go after him, that is one of the most notorious criminals in Arcania. We have to stop him,” Eltheon gasped.
Opal nodded and sprinted into the dark tunnel. A door led out into one of the garden terraces along the wall of the cathedral. Opal rushed out into the open air, but the criminal seemed to be gone. Her necklace quickly disagreed. It flared orange and hummed its warning.
He’s in the shadows.
“Show yourself,” Opal demanded. “I know you’re here!”
The Ranger stepped out. Only the grim slit of his mouth was visible. Opal knew the Agama Stone was her only chance. He was a skilled combatant; she would lose any other way.
“The last time we met, you got the jump on me. I can promise that won’t happen again,” he said, his voice like gravel.
“Yeah, I remember. I should’ve let Luka finish you off. You’ve been after me for a long time, haven’t you? Are you one of Amina’s little errand boys?” Opal’s disdain was obvious. She took a defensive stance. If he attacked, she would respond with as much force as the stone would allow.
“I’m sorry to see that you’ve fallen in with this crowd, Summerfield. The old Willis woman thought more of you, but I’m not so sure. Seems you are just another pawn in Jakob and Amina’s little chess game,” he snarled. The Ranger began moving away toward the terrace wall. Opal advanced, trying to block his path.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said. “Stand down and you can plead your case to the Council Prime.”
“You’re brave, kid, but stupid. You’re all alone and no match for me. I’m leaving. Get out of my way. This is the last time I tell you!” he said.
The stone breached the dark like a miniature blue star. Its indigo magic clawed down Opal’s arms. Opal could see the stunned look on the Ranger’s face.
“The necklace! So it’s true, it still exists! How did you get that, kid?”
So he is working with Amina, Opal thought. Now he wants the Agama Stone.
“If you know of it, then you know what it can do,” she taunted.
“I’ve only seen one other woman wield that stone effectively. Do you even know what you have there?” The Ranger advanced and Opal began backing up carefully.
“Do you want to find out?” she prodded.
Opal felt the stone’s energy surge through her arms. The magic was piling up in her fists. She was ready to knock him through the wall if he tried to touch her.
“Yeah, I think I do!” the Ranger said.
Before she understood what was happening, the Ranger had kicked Opal to the ground. She was flat on her back, gasping for breath. The Ranger stood over her, pointing the tip of a long silver dagger at her. Death was inches away.
“You have a presence about you girl—like someone I knew a long, long time ago. You even have her eyes, and her—”
The Ranger skipped a beat. He moved in closer and brushed Opal’s hair out of her face with the tip of his blade.
“How old are you?” the Ranger demanded. Her adversary looked stunned, almost afraid.
“Why do you care?” Opal spit back.
She squirmed away and leapt to her feet. The Ranger was just as fast and slammed the full weight of his body into Opal, pinning her against the terrace wall. Opal searched within herself for the power of the stone, but it was not responding.
“How old are you girl? Tell me!”
He slammed her again, rattling every bone in her body.
Agama Stone, I need you.
The stone was burning hot, but the magic had gone dormant.
“HOW OLD?”
The Ranger twisted her into a chokehold and pinned her arm against her back. He squeezed down. Opal felt as if her arm would snap any second. She screamed out.
“Answer me!” he said in a softer, more desperate tone. “How old?”
“Sixteen,” she said. “I’m sixteen, now let me go!”
The Ranger reached down and grabbed the burning Agama Stone with his bare hand and ripped it from her chest. He shoved Opal away and backed up to the terrace wall.
Opal thought the Ranger was actually stumbling backward, like he had just taken news of some horrible tragedy. He seemed enraged and shocked all at once, but completely unaffected by the magic of the Agama Stone.
“I knew a woman who wore this gemstone,” he said wistfully.
He was dangling it in the starlight for both of them to see it.
“It was a magnet for death and destruction. In the end, it killed her. It should have never been created. You are better off without it, kid. I will do what Jakob and his little cult could not—I will see it used properly, then destroyed for all time.”
He tucked the stone into the folds of his cloak, just beneath his leather armor.
“Now get the heck out of here!” He pointed back to the passageway. “And tell your Warden friends—and Jakob, that fool—that more attacks are coming. The war is just starting.”
The Ranger climbed onto the ledge, which overlooked the forest below. He paused a long moment to look back at Opal, then leapt into the darkness. Opal ran to the ledge to track him, but he was gone.
The Agama Stone was hers no more.
What magic does this Ranger have? He was able to suppress its power, to touch it easily, to steal it, but how?
She felt like he had stolen a part of her soul. She had been without it before, but this time it felt much worse, much more tragic. She could not stop the flood of emotion that filled her.
“Come back,” she yelled. Her plea was like a child’s kite with no wind to carry it; it went out weakly and fell clumsily into the darkness.
Opal collapsed on her knees and began to cry.
91
“Look preacher, just give us our orders. I ain’t much for praying,” said Percy.
“That is a shame, because you’re going to need God on your side tonight. It’s time to cleanse the town. Round up everybody who stands against us,” Abner said solemnly.
“You got it!” Percy was gleeful. “Come on brother, time for us to have some fun!”
The two boys adjusted the eyeholes and horns of their masks and ran toward the road where more Hoods were waiting for them.
“Let’s go get ‘em boys! This town is ours for the taking!” hollered Percy.
He fired his pistol in the air and rode away. The Hoods galloped after him, toward the heart of Grigg’s Landing.
Abner Worthington was still kneeling in the grass, seemingly unaffected by the terror he had just unleashed on the town. He was waiting for the wraith to give him his next command.
“What are you doing?” It finally asked.
Abner put his hood on. He drew his silver eagle and rose-handled dagger from its scabbard. The blade glinted in the moonlight. He began to whisper a prayer.
“Are you listening to me? You must end this!”
Abner withdrew a vial of holy water from his cloak. He was determined to break its power. He’d let it seduce him for the last time. He poured the water over the silver blade, said one more prayer, and waited.
“You’ve promised to raise my child from the dead,” he said. “I know that to do that I must sacrifice the Summerfield girl, but how? How can this servant draw her here?”
The wraith seemed furious. It came faster. Closer. He gripped the dagger tightly.
“Abner, do you hear me?”
“You will control me no longer, evil spirit!”
Abner jumped to his feet and plunged the sanctified bl
ade into the wraith’s ghostly body. The creature screamed in agony. It wore the face of his horrified wife. It also wore a silver chain with Abigail’s red hair ribbon threaded through its links.
“You…have to stop…this evil,” sputtered Beatrice Worthington. All the color was draining from her face.
Abner was horrified. It wasn’t the wraith as he had assumed. It was his poor wife, and she was now mortally wounded—by his own hand!
“No! It can’t be!” Abner pleaded.
The couple looked down at the dagger. Blood was wicking out over Beatrice’s white nightdress, spreading rapidly as her life spilled away. Abner couldn’t accept what he had just done.
Beatrice exhaled one last long breath and died. She slumped to the ground.
Abner Worthington stood over her in shock. He was neither crying nor laughing, but sounds of insanity began slowly spilling from his mouth. His eerie yammering was like a spell summoning Amina’s wraiths.
One by one, they rose up out of the purple mist that had formed around the preacher.
92
Opal found Tirian in his workshop in a very uncharacteristic mood. He was cross as a crippled cat and yelling orders at his crew.
“I have absolutely no idea how the conjurer got into Fallmoon Gap. It should’ve been impossible,” Tirian said, slamming his fist into the table. “I have the protection fields rigged to the Helixflow. That should be enough power to block anything magical in the whole Veil. Feratu, wereboars, witches—all of them should have been repelled or apported right back out of the city the instant they touched any part of the protective field.”
He looked at Opal. His eyes pleaded for an answer that he knew was not there.
“I’ve got more bad news,” Opal said. “She’s got my necklace, and Jakob’s powerstone as well.”
Tirian threw his hands up in the air. He looked heavenward, like he was sending out a distress call to the almighty.
“Damn it!” he kicked the table over.
Everyone in the room turned. It was shocking to see the mild-mannered engineer lose it.
“This witch knows how to tear the stars out of the dang sky! Jakob’s powerstone is what protects the Helixflow.”
“He never told me that?”
“That’s because it involves a bit of shameful history. No one talks about it.” He sat down in a huff, took a deep breath, and tried to explain.
“When Fallmoon Gap and the Helixflow were discovered, the cave below our city was the main home of the Feratu. They fed on the magic formation—it kept them alive. The Council Prime wanted complete access to the Helixflow, because it’s believed to be one of the main power sources of the Veil.
“The Protectorate came in and claimed all of the territory around the Helixflow, including the cave rooms above and below it. Jakob’s powerstone was used to seal the creatures out. It didn’t destroy them; it just drove them into deeper parts of the cave system.”
“So, what’s the big deal, why is it such a secret?”
“Because there was a very bad side effect. The Feratu changed. They became vampiric and started feeding on, well, humans! They needed magical energy to survive, and we cut them off from their food source. They were feeding on the firehorses until that became unsustainable. So now they have started eating us. And being bitten by a Feratu—well everyone knows about vampires. I don’t have to go into the horrors of that.”
“So now Amina means to give the Helixflow back to the Feratu?”
“Not only that, but the magic to cut us off from it, the very thing powering our defenses. That is my whole grand scheme up in smoke!
If she can use the Agama Stone and Knarray to take back the Helixflow—well, all I can say is, this is going to be a heck of a hard fight with a short stick.”
Opal collapsed in a chair next to Tirian, deflated. “We are in it serious and deep! Tirian, we have to get my necklace back!”
“Opal, we have to do something—that is for sure!”
93
Redboar brought Amina the Agama Stone after discovering it hidden in one of the Ranger’s pockets. It still had wereboar goop on it, but it was doing its job. Amina couldn’t control its magic because she was not a stone-wielder. But the minute she touched it to the hill goblin scroll, things started changing. Apparently, the scroll had been enchanted with a powerstone, and it could only be unlocked by the same.
The gold-leafed picture of the Helixflow faded from view. In its place, a picture of the Crystal Tree emerged and alongside that, strange words began to appear.
Amina started to recite the spell.
From the heavens the dagger is born,
From the tree the power is torn,
From the earth the stone will rise,
From the vengeful heart the lithomancer dies.
As she practiced the spell, the terrible tones of goblin-speak triggered her darkest childhood memories. She had flashbacks of her captivity and the worst of the horrors—but she pressed on memorizing every word.
94
Eltheon was still in the healing ward, and she looked terrible. Opal felt so guilty. If she had just been smarter or a bit quicker, maybe Ellie wouldn’t have been hurt.
“Are you sure you are doing everything?” Opal snapped at the nurse attending Eltheon. She flipped through her composition notebook, reading back over Sugar’s lessons.
“The initial injury never healed, and she just reinjured the same wound. The infection is spreading, but I’m making her comfortable. We just have to accept this is something she is not likely to overcome.”
“DO NOT tell me she is going to die!”
Opal was screaming and everyone in the healing ward was watching. They stared at her in that I’m-trying-not-to-look-like-I’m-looking kind of way.
“We are doing our best. We’ve been working on her for hours now,” the healer said in a flat, unemotional voice.
The nurse was a beady-eyed, gnome-like woman, dressed in healing ward whites, her hair bundled in a tight topknot. She seemed the less mannered version of Opal’s room attendant, Ms. Kitfell.
“She doesn’t even look like she is breathing,” complained Opal.
Eltheon was very pale and curled up in a fetal ball. Occasionally, she murmured in her sleep, as if having a bad dream. Black streaks of infection crawled out from her wound. It reached out like an ink-spill over the rest of her arm and along her chest.
“It’s the medicine. She’s had a lot today.”
“What are you giving her? What about horsebalm?” Opal eyed the bottles and supplies next to Eltheon’s bed suspiciously. She tried to match what she saw on the table to what Sugar had taught her to use. Everything looked wrong.
“I don’t think that is really any of your business, Warden. We are doing what we always do. We don’t play favorites in the healing ward.”
She gave up and stuffed her notebook back in her little possibles bag. “The Agama Stone—would it heal her better?”
“I know nothing about that,” the healer said curtly. “Our specially prepared remedy should work—if anything will.”
“Make sure you watch her every minute,” snapped Opal. She wasn’t really listening to the nurse anymore. She adjusted the strap of her bag across her chest and turned to leave.
“We will. The whole group is dedicated to the best care possible.”
Now the nurse seemed to have stopped listening to Opal. Opal turned back to the healer and grabbed her by the shoulder.
“No, you don’t understand! Make sure YOU watch her. Every minute. Do not take your eyes off her!”
“Warden, I understand you’re concerned, but there are other wounded here.”
Opal pulled the plump woman toward her roughly. She got in her face. “It sounds like you don’t get it. This woman has saved my sorry backside more times than I can count. Without her I‘d be dead. I don’t know if it’s part of your job to be a bit detached about these things—leaving the violence to us Wardens and all—but if this woman die
s on your watch, you will get to know what the Protectorate does, up close and personal. I will make sure of it!”
“You cannot direct the way I run this ward!”
“Let me repeat myself, nurse. If she dies on your watch, I’m going to hunt down every wereboar in this realm and kill them all. And I will use your ham-boned butt as bait! Am I making myself clear?”
The healer just stared at Opal with her steely eyes. She shook her head slowly in agreement.
Opal let go of the nurse and pushed her away. She kissed her friend on the forehead and whispered in her ear, “I’ll get the Agama Stone back, Ellie. Somehow, someway, I’ll make sure you get better. I swear it!”
95
The thread of sanity that held Abner Worthington’s mind together had snapped. He sat on an overturned vegetable crate looking down blankly at the scattered straw on his barn floor. Beside him lay the corpse of Beatrice Worthington. She was the shade of a toadstool.
The mad pastor wore his hood. He seemed a fourth wraith among the other evil three.
He got up and walked mechanically into the apple grove. He wandered right up to the one thing that frightened the wraiths the most: Sugar Trotter’s blue bottle tree.
Abner had never given it a second thought, until this night. Now, standing before it, he could feel its power. He saw how the starlight filled the bottles, making the whole tree come alive with glorious color. The wraiths hissed at the tree.
In that blue glass he saw a sad, familiar face. He was mesmerized, and the wraiths spun around him. He was overwhelmed by the susurrus of their demands. He cupped his hands around his ears, but the sounds just grew louder, more maddening.
“Burn it, burn it,” the wraiths commanded. “Burn the tree!”
96
Opal ran past one of Luka’s scouts as she left the healing ward.
“Opal!” he yelled back.
Opal skidded to a stop and the young Warden ran back to her.
“Luka was trying to find you!” he said, out of breath. “Liberty Creek is under attack and he needs your help. He’s issued a standing order. He wants you and every available Warden to use the tunnels to meet him there. He said it’s critical to get there as fast as you can. The whole city is in danger!”
Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap Page 27
