L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  I ground my teeth. “I’m not afraid to fail.”

  Jazz’s golden eyes flashed. “You’re also afraid to try.”

  I clenched my fists.

  Mom’s voice echoed in my head. Respond, don’t react.

  I folded my arms across my chest, trying not to react. “Get off my case already and show me what I’m supposed to try to do. And be careful you don’t open the stupid thing right on top of Nire or something.”

  “Nire’s entrance is hidden from us.” Raising her chin, Jazz moved closer to the Path and slid her finger in a vertical line, like she had that time she’d trapped me and I chased her through that weird store.

  Air crackled and sparkled gold, then a black slit appeared, like she had sliced open a piece of the sky. Cold air blasted out. It smelled of mold and dirt, just like the dark place Jazz had dragged me through when she had trapped me and the place where I had slashed through the shimmering wall.

  She ran her hand back up the opening, and it vanished. “As quickly as possible, the Path must be resealed, or the consequences could be disastrous.” She turned her glare back to me. “Opening and closing the Path requires the same concentration, focus, and strength of will as performing other spellwork.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “So show me again.”

  She chose another place a few feet down the Path and opened it the same way. Only this time, she stepped through the slit. Just as I was about to follow her, the entrance closed. My face bounced against the Path, and I stumbled back.

  “Witch,” I muttered, waiting for her to return.

  When she didn’t come back, I shook my head and figured she had gone off in a snit to some Sanctuary. That or she was waiting for me to open the Path and follow her.

  “Fine. Whatever.” I imitated the movements she had made when she opened the Path, but it just felt like I was running my finger down the side of a balloon.

  Surf pounded the shore as I tried again and again to open the Path. My frustration grew more intense with every attempt. I would have slammed my fist into the barrier if I hadn’t already known I would just bounce off and land on my head. If only I could hack at it with my sword.

  My sword. Yeah, that was it. That was how I got through it the last time. And if I was really the Shadowalker, I was supposed to use my sword to slice through the Path. At least according to that prophecy Jazz had talked about.

  Grinning, I drew my weapon. Now, swordwork was something I was good at. The hilt felt good in my hands as I limbered up. When I felt loose, I moved a little way down the Path, just in case Jazz was on the other side waiting for me.

  I gripped my weapon with both hands, raised it over my head. With all my might, I swung my sword down.

  My blade connected with the Path—and bounced off.

  The force of the rebound yanked my weapon out of my hands and threw me backward, onto my butt. The blade flashed in the sunlight as it flipped through the air, end over end, landing point down in the shale a few feet away from me.

  What the—?

  My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at the sword, still quivering where it had struck. “Crap,” I muttered. The realization that I could have taken off my own head was sobering. Maybe I needed to be a little more careful when trying something new. But how was I able to do it the last time, when I had blindly charged at the wall?

  I scrambled to my feet and retrieved my weapon, swiping the blade across my leather breeches. The next time I tried to open the Path, I carefully slid the point down the barrier.

  Nothing. Not even a little hole. What was the matter? I was alone. No audience. Maybe it was the thought of Jazz being on the other side that kept me from doing it.

  Disgust twisted in my gut, and I gave up.

  I rammed my sword into its sheath and stared at the ocean. Sunlight sparkled on the water, and I noticed something floating a few feet from shore. What was it?

  Water sloshed inside my boots as I waded into the surf to get a closer look.

  The thing bobbed up and down with the waves. It was colorful, like a big bowl of orange, red, and purple flowers. I was in up to my knees, and the undercurrent sucked at my legs.

  Just a little closer. What was it? When I was inches away, I reached for one of the red petals-

  And it blinked.

  My heart pounded, and I started to back away. Water boiled around me.

  From under the flowers an enormous head reared out of the water. It was a monster—a giant water serpent! Sunlight glinted on its fangs, and its eyes glowed a wicked red.

  I yanked out my sword as I stumbled closer to the shore, and squared off with the beast. The serpent lunged. Using both hands, I swung my weapon. The blade connected with a fang and deflected the serpent’s attack.

  I backed up, reaching the beach as the beast hissed and dove toward me again. Blood thundered in my ears, but my movements were automatic from countless hours of training with Rol. I dropped to one knee on the shore, dodging the fangs, and aiming my blade toward the beast’s neck.

  Just as my sword slid into the serpent’s flesh, I heard Jazz scream, “Cease!”

  Even as everything around me froze, the force of my momentum continued. My blade sliced all the way through the neck—and I fell onto my butt a second time. Drops of blood from the creature hung in the air, and the serpent’s head tilted at an odd angle.

  The flowerlike thing had been on top of its head. It had been waiting for unsuspecting prey, and I had been stupid enough to fall for it. Again. Fury built up in me as I turned and saw Jazz standing a few feet away. Her face was white and her hand fluttered to her throat. I clenched my sword hilt and strode toward her.

  She stood her ground and raised her head. My body shook with adrenaline and anger. “Another one of your tests?”

  “Another example of your foolishness?” Her glare matched mine. “Haven’t I warned you that most beings are not to be trusted? Didn’t I tell you never to drop your guard until you know every aspect of a being?”

  “I thought it was a bunch of flowers!” I pointed my sword at the frozen serpent. “How was I supposed to know it was a monster snake?”

  “You killed it! It didn’t have to be robbed of its life. It just needed to be left alone.” Jazz jabbed her finger at my chest. “If I had planned this, I couldn’t have come up with a better opportunity to show your unbelievable arrogance.”

  I jammed my sword into its sheath. “And that’s your job, isn’t it? To make me into a total fool.”

  She whirled and marched away from me. “May the Goddess forgive me for my folly.”

  While sitting alongside the stream at my hideaway, I cleaned salt water and serpent’s blood from my sword’s blade with a piece of soft leather. When I finished, I got to my feet, sheathed my weapon and crammed the leather into my pocket.

  I started kicking rock after rock into the stream while glaring at the Path. It glittered on the opposite bank, taunting me.

  As soon as Jazz and I had arrived at the manor, she had sailed into her drawing room and slammed the door with a flick of her fingers. Without stopping to say hello to Rol, I had stomped off to be alone.

  To think about my foolishness. My failures.

  I scooped up a rock, clenching it so hard that its jagged edges bit into my palm.

  What did Jazz mean when she said I was afraid to try? I tried all the time.

  Well, mostly when I was alone. When it came to something I wasn’t good at, I didn’t want to blow it in front of an audience. Too many times when I was growing up, I was told what a failure I was, not only by my dad but by teachers and other people, too. How I didn’t pay attention. How I fidgeted and disrupted the class. How my handwriting sucked. How messy and disorganized I was. How I didn’t even try.

  Screw ’em. Screw ’em all.

  I flung the rock into the stream and water splashed onto my boots. If I could open the Path intentionally, I would just disappear and find my way back to the place I came in—

  H
ey, wait a minute.

  If I opened the Path, I could leave. I could take off and let Jazz find another stupid Shadowalker to grind under her perfect heel.

  But didn’t she say that I couldn’t leave the Path until Nire was defeated? Or was it only witches who didn’t have the power to open the Path who couldn’t leave? If I did have the power to open it, maybe I could move along the Path like Jazz did. That would show her.

  Determined to succeed this time, I hopped the stream, stones crunching under my boots as I landed. When I reached the barrier, I withdrew my sword and took a deep breath. I searched for that same focus, that same concentration and power that was starting to become second nature, like my swordplay. At least when I was alone.

  When warmth and power filled me and my skin shimmered silver, I raised my sword and eased the point down the side of the barrier. This time I felt a connection with the Path. The same connection I had felt with the ocean and had been feeling with the forest. With every living thing.

  I was born to do this. I knew it in my gut.

  I’m a witch.

  All the training over the past couple of weeks, all the practicing, had led me to that exact moment.

  Cold air eased through the six-inch slit I made in the Path, chased by the smell of dirt and mold. I started to make the opening longer, large enough for me to pass through, but I paused. Maybe I should make sure I could close it first. I might have been pissed at Jazz, but I didn’t want to leave her with an even bigger mess than she already had.

  With the same focus I had used when I stared from the batter’s box at the best strikeout pitcher in the league, I slid my sword point along the opening and sealed the Path.

  Home run.

  Satisfaction swept over me like cheering fans at a championship game.

  I raised my sword and sliced an opening large enough to walk through. The Path was cold and dark as I sealed it behind me, but I could see, unlike the first time I had been on the Path with Jazz.

  And I didn’t like what I saw.

  Shadows screeched and hissed from the walls and clawed at me—kind of like the ones I had battled when I’d helped Jazz. I raised my sword and my skin flashed brilliant silver. The Shadows cringed away from my light.

  Interesting.

  Why hadn’t the same thing happened when I struck at them in that prehistoric freak-land I landed in when I fell through the Path trying to get to Jazz? My skin had a much brighter silver sheen this time. Maybe it was because my magic was getting stronger. Maybe these Shadows weren’t as powerful. Or maybe it was both.

  For the first time, I didn’t feel nauseous and my head wasn’t spinning. Without any more hesitation, I strode along the Path. Toward freedom. Away from Jazz.

  It still felt like I was walking backward along an escalator, but I was steady on my feet. For a while I saw nothing but hissing Shadows. But then a darker patch appeared in the wall. Could it be a doorway, an entrance to a Sanctuary? Maybe it was L.O.S.T., the place I had come in with Jazz. Concentrating and focusing my magic, I slit a tiny opening with my sword point and peeked through.

  A procession of armored knights on horseback trotted past, hooves splashing through mud puddles and the shouts of male voices. Brilliant white flags with pictures of red dragons fluttered from staffs, and I caught the smells of horse and a rain-soaked breeze. I remembered a history lesson on medieval times—was that King Arthur’s standard?

  Jazz did say Merlyn was taken to a Sanctuary where his powers could be appreciated, so it could have been the time of King Arthur.

  Whoa.

  My skin flared silver as Shadows started to creep closer. They skittered away, and I sealed the peephole. I’d have to keep my eye on the Shadows as I searched for the doorway that would take me to L.O.S.T.

  The next doorway opened up to a place where the air was so clear and clean that it had to have been a time thousands, if not millions, of years ago. It was beautiful, filled with massive trees and a sparkling stream. Definitely not modern-day Earth. Wait—it was that prehistoric place where I’d rescued Jazz, wasn’t it? Except this time it was dawn, the sun just rising over the distant mountains.

  Doorway after doorway I opened and closed. No sign of Nire or any dank, evil-looking place, but Jazz said Nire’s entrance to the Path was hidden from us. Finally, when I’d about given up, I found it.

  I found L.O.S.T.

  The minute I opened the Path, I smelled roses and fresh-cut grass, mixed with modern-day pollution. After spending the past couple weeks in Shallym, I was surprised how dirty the air was in my own time. It was starting to get dark, but I could make out the convenience store, the restaurant on the hill, the yellow California poppies.

  I could go home. It didn’t seem real.

  Home.

  Back to my awesome mom, my dorky brother, and my pain in the neck dad. Back to my life in Yuma, getting ready for my senior year, playing ball with the guys, checking out the babes as I cruised the park with my friends in my mom’s truck—oh, yeah.

  With a scowl I clenched my sword hilt. Okay, so I’d likely be grounded until college, but at least I’d be home. Where I chose to be. Not where I was trapped and forced to do something I didn’t want to do.

  I started to step through the opening, but something deep inside stopped me.

  What about Jazz?

  The image of her beautiful golden eyes came to me. Eyes that sparkled in those rare moments when she was happy. Eyes that watched me sometimes, like maybe she cared more about me than she let on. But most of the time, eyes that held all the concerns of the Queen of the Witches…for her family, for her people.

  Could I just walk away and leave her to battle Nire on her own?

  After what she’s done to me, sure I can.

  The words sounded forced even as I thought them. Inside, I knew Jazz was only doing what she needed to do in order to save her people. In order to save humans and witches alike, in all times and all places.

  Could I really walk away?

  I sighed and relaxed my grip on my sword.

  No.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave Jazz to fight Nire by herself. Despite everything Jazz had done to me, despite our differences, and despite the fact she probably hated me, I cared about her. I cared what happened to her, and I cared what happened to Rol. I couldn’t leave.

  I would stay, and this time by my choice, my free will.

  It took everything I had to turn away from the Sanctuary and my chance to go home.

  I sealed the opening and headed back through the Path to Jazz.

  When I got back to Shadowbridge, I said nothing to Rol or Jazz about my new abilities. I just couldn’t. Every time I thought about it, I felt compelled to slam my mouth shut. Sometimes I even felt as if the statue in my pocket was talking to me, telling me to be quiet. Other times, I felt like it wanted me to go back to the Path and stand at the barrier. It was stupid.

  That night I climbed into bed, guilt heavy on my chest. My eyes felt heavy, too. I squeezed them shut, but a soft tapping noise caught my attention.

  I sat back up, moving in slow motion, surrounded by a thick, cold mist.

  I’m dreaming. Have to be dreaming.

  But that tapping noise...that’s got to be the Shadowmaster.

  Face shadowed by the hood of a purple robe, Nire sat in a viewing chamber on a coarse granite dais. The Shadowmaster tapped fingernails against stone.

  Tap. Tap.

  The sound echoed in my head. I could tell the monster was watching something, and then I saw caged witches who cringed and looked away from their Shadow guards.

  My blood pumped through my body, adrenaline giving me an incredible rush. I reached for my sword—but nothing. I grabbed only air, unable to take on the monster.

  I wasn’t even there. All I could do was watch. I ground my teeth.

  Nire smiled, full lips broadening beneath the hood, and the smile made me think of death. Yet that smile was familiar—and not terrible. Not terrible at
all. Comforting even.

  What was wrong with me?

  “Come Summer Solstice, I will be at my full power,” Nire said aloud. “I have bled enough witches and oldeFolke of their magic—the time has come to take Shadowbridge.”

  Jaw clenched, I tried to step back, but I couldn’t move.

  The Shadowmaster nodded beneath the hood. “Soon it will be time to draw Jasmina Corey into our trap, my son,” Nire said to a man I hadn’t seen standing in darkness beside the cage. “Soon the Queen of the Witch’s power will belong to me and nothing will be able to hold back the Shadows. Nothing and no one will be strong enough to prevent me from cleansing this burdened earth of witches and humans who do nothing but drain the air.”

  “It will be as you have predicted.” The man’s hoarse chuckle grated on my nerves. “The witch will be yours.”

  “Yes, I will have Jasmina.” The Shadowmaster sighed with obvious pleasure. “And the Shadowalker will return to me.”

  No!

  I tried to imagine my sword into my hand, to use a summoning spell to snatch it up from the world outside of dreams.

  Instead, I woke up in a hurry, choking and swearing.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty

  For the next four days, Bren failed at opening the Path. His mind seemed to be on hundreds of other things. Namely, anything to annoy me.

  Sometimes he would start to say something, but then his lips would slam shut and he would fidget, rubbing his hand over his pocket or tugging at his shirt.

  Meanwhile, with Rol’s firm guidance, Bren excelled at swordplay and hand-fighting. At least if we found Nire’s Sanctuary, Bren should well understand how to use his blade to free the Path. If we lived that long.

  He also excelled at dirt, foul smells, and sounds only boys and men find amusing. Both Rol and Bren apparently thought it fine to bring such things to the dinner table, too, and on more than one occasion, I was sorely tempted to make wall art out of the pair of them.

  They were becoming like father and son before my very eyes.