L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  “Yeah. Whatever.” I adjusted the moonstone chain, hitched up my backpack over my shoulders, and followed him inside.

  The scent of fresh earth, a spring breeze, and moonlight swept over me. Gone was the rotten stench of the Nire days. Gone were the haunted Shadows that had scrabbled and clawed at any being that had been escorted down the Path. Now the walls hummed a soft silver, reminding me of a futuristic hallway from a Star Trek movie. The walls cast enough of a glow that we didn’t need my sword’s magic to light the way.

  After sealing the entrance to the Path, we started walking against the moving floor. At least I had learned to do that without getting sick, which was a major accomplishment, if I do say so myself. The King of the Witches shouldn’t double as vomit-boy every time he heads out for a rescue.

  Live Oak Springs Township, L.O.S.T., was at the very end of the Path, modern day, where time continued through the new millennium. Every other Sanctuary on the Path was somewhere back in history, yet time progressed in each Sanctuary, just as it did in our own. It took me awhile to actually get how that worked.

  If Jazz was here, she could explain it with her floating gold bubbles and mystical ribbons, but that was something I’d never done. Maybe because it reminded me too much of Jazz. And I’d thought I’d never see her again. What an idiot I’d been to not find out the truth about Talamadden sooner.

  I gritted my teeth and held onto the hilt of my sword as I trudged down the shining walkway of the Path. As always, I felt we were wasting too much time, taking too long.

  “Which Sanctuary is it in?” I asked from behind Acaw. “How long will it take for us to get there?”

  His crow-brother cast an irritated look over his shoulder, and I felt like a kid in the backseat of a car asking “Are we there yet?” every five seconds.

  “As much time as is necessary,” Acaw answered in his gravelly voice, and I glared at his back.

  He was about half my height, had a weathered face, and always had an expression of being inconvenienced, which no doubt was exactly how he felt at that moment. The short guy never seemed to be in a hurry. The only time I’d ever seen him be anything other than an elfling version of a monk was when the Shadows attacked us at Jazz’s old castle back in Shallym. That day, Acaw turned into some sort of Kung Fu master, and his crow-brother, too. The bird killed anything that moved, and Acaw used a kitchen fork and a short dagger better than two broadswords.

  I thought about it later, that I’d rather not see him that mad ever again. OldeFolke—they were always mysterious, irritating—and you never really knew where they stood.

  Neutral alliance, Jazz’s mother had tried to explain. The oldeFolke had simple goals of survival and living as they had always lived. They were allied with nature and the natural, not the modern witches. I could go to hell as far as they were concerned, king or not. The only reason they remained peaceful was because it was in their best interests, and they respected the power I had. Not a great situation, but the best we could hope for given the circumstances.

  Acaw had always seemed so loyal to Jazz, and I found out later that elflings lived and died by the promises they made. Once they swore an oath of service, they took it to the bitter end, if necessary. I remember the very moment Jazz released Acaw as she was dying, and the uncharacteristic emotion in his usually stoic expression.

  “It has been a pleasure to be in your service,” he’d said. “Most of the time.”

  The humor in his last statement was bittersweet. Now, Acaw was in my service, even though lots of times he seemed like he’d rather kill me and cook me for dinner. He probably wouldn’t cook me for dinner anytime soon. I felt almost certain about that. Yeah. My command for him to lead me to Talamadden helped with that. I hoped.

  The only sounds as we walked along the silvery Path were its normal hum, the quiet patter of Acaw’s charms on his walking stick, and the soft thump of my boots.

  We passed Sanctuary entrance after Sanctuary entrance, all familiar, all well-known to me. A couple were new, which I had created, but the rest were Sanctuaries Jazz and her father had attached to the Path a long time ago. Todd and I had been able to restore the bonds after I severed them to defeat the Shadowmaster.

  We passed one Sanctuary that led into the Wild West, which was one of the cool Sanctuaries I’d attached. Another led into eighteenth-century France, and then, of course, the one to Salem—the Sanctuary where we had fought Nire—where we had learned she was my mother.

  My mother.

  I still missed her. Fire balled up in my chest and I had to fight back the heat. She had been an ancient being who had chosen my father to be her mate, to produce heirs in hopes she would find the one who would help bring back the rule of the purest oldeFolke. The one who would help her eradicate anyone she considered impure, unworthy of living.

  My gut churned at the thought. I had been that one. The one she had expected to rule by her side.

  I stopped in my tracks and pounded on the door to Salem with my fist, but my hand simply bounced off the sponge-like wall. “Why?” I could hardly hold back my emotions. “I hate you for not being the Mom I loved. I hate you for killing Jazz.”

  A hand gripped my shoulder and I spun, ready to punch whoever had touched me.

  “None of that if you wish to reach Jasmina in time,” Acaw said, but there was an unusual glint of understanding in his ancient eyes.

  He turned and started back down the Path.

  I straightened and relaxed my hands. “Uh, yeah.” Then what he’d said struck me. “What do you mean reach Jazz in time?”

  Acaw gave a slight shrug of one shoulder without turning to look at me. “Jasmina needs you.”

  I think my jaw dropped, but I was walking too fast to be sure, trying to catch up to the little jerk. How could an elfling walk so fast?

  “First you try to tell me not to come, then you make me command you and tell me it’s ill fated or whatever, and now you tell me to hurry because Jazz needs me?” His feet seemed to move faster and I had an even harder time keeping up. “What’s happened, and how do you know?”

  “She needs you.” Acaw said, and his crow-brother flapped his stupid black wings.

  Typical oldeFolke. Reveal only what’s necessary, and then not willingly. That drove me out of my flipping mind.

  I marched on through the Path, fiddling with my moonstone necklace as my concern for Jazz mounted. What was going on? I tugged at the chain. Why did she need me now more than she did when we started off?

  We passed the Sanctuary that led to King Arthur’s time, on back to the Sanctuary of Shallym—that was now being restored after Nire’s minions had invaded and nearly destroyed it over five months ago. Five long months without Jazz.

  On and on we walked, past Sanctuaries to historical times, on to pre-historical times.

  When we came to the place where I had severed the Sanctuary to strand Mom—I mean Nire—I had to hold back another cry of rage and frustration. My heart actually ached in my chest for the being who’d been my mother, and the being who’d been the cause of Jazz’s death. She was forever lost in those ancient days now, unable to return to the highway through time. It was the best I could do. I just couldn’t kill my own mother. I couldn’t. A few minutes ago, I had said I hated her.

  I didn’t.

  I’d passed these places lots of times before and hadn’t felt this kind of emotion in ages. But for some reason, just knowing that I was on my way to find Jazz brought everything back so painfully harsh that my head ached.

  I gripped the hilt of my sword and clenched my teeth. I kept walking straight past the severed Sanctuary, following the bob of Acaw’s pointy hat. Nire’s forever-home was in prehistoric times, so I knew we were nearly at the end of the Path. The last Sanctuary, the only one after the one I had cut loose, had to be where we would find the land of the dead.

  But Acaw turned his back on the last door even as we reached it. Before I could ask him any questions, he tapped his staff against the wall dir
ectly across from that Sanctuary and the charms at the top of it tinkled softly. He tapped again and again on a wall with no doorway—a wall along the side that shouldn’t have any Sanctuaries attached to it. Yet a door opened, as neatly as if I had cut it myself.

  A small round door.

  “What the…?” I started, but Acaw had already vanished through the hobbit-sized doorway.

  The moonstone around my neck hummed. I ducked through the hole, but still managed to bang my head on what felt like solid wood. I was about to grill the elfling on how he opened the Path when only Todd and I were supposed to be able to do it, but I saw where I was and went completely speechless.

  It was like fairyland. Heck, it probably was fairyland. After all, I followed an elfling here, right?

  The door lies in lands forgotten.

  This sure looked like Forgotten Land to me. Two riddles down, four to go. Assuming, of course, I hadn’t missed a ton in all the old scrolls I couldn’t read.

  Acaw closed the door behind us and gave it a single tap of his staff while I stared at my surroundings.

  It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. Golden sunlight spilled through massive trees of vivid shades of green, and the light caressed violet, blue, red, and orange flowers. Soft grass covered a pathway with flagstones leading the way through fairyland—sort of a yellow brick road that wasn’t yellow. It smelled wonderful, of roses and rich, dark earth.

  Elflings of all ages and sizes tended gardens in front of small houses built right into mounds of earth—no, wait. Not elflings. They were smaller, and some were—er, hairy. Were they gnomes? Dwarves?

  Tiny creatures fluttered about the flowers like dragonflies. I was sure they were fairies. Especially when one of them flittered right up to my face and I saw her shimmering blonde hair and tiny perfect female body. She winked, then was gone in a flash.

  “This forgotten place, is it Summerland?” I asked as I looked in awe at the beauty around us. The stone at my neck felt warm, peaceful—right. I placed my hand on it, rubbing it back and forth.

  This didn’t look like such a bad place. There were so many different types of beings around and they all appeared to work in perfect harmony. An enormous bunny went hopping by carrying a bunch of little elfling kids on its back, and that settled it for me.

  I was in freaking Wonderland.

  “Is this it?” I asked Acaw again. “Is this Summerland?”

  Acaw gave a snort that could have been a laugh, if he ever laughed. “A long journey lies ahead,” he said, and I didn’t hold back my groan.

  “Where are we, then?” While I followed him on the flagstone path, I ducked a bunch of flowers that looked like wavy pink spiders. “Why didn’t I know about this place?”

  I was King of the Witches. I figured I had the right to know everything.

  Acaw trundled past one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. As we passed the woman, he lowered his voice so that only I could hear and said, “Few humans, even witches, breach the borderlands ruled by the Erlking and live. It is my hope that your halfling oldeFolke blood will protect you.”

  I barely heard him, my head swiveling as we walked past the redheaded beauty clothed in a gauzy kind of material that clung to all her curves. She was perfect except for the slightest glint in her eyes. A hard glint. Too aware of me, almost watchful, like she was sizing me up.

  An enchantress, a voice said in my head. Another voice, which sounded annoyingly like Jazz in one of her snitty moods, said, “Things aren’t always what they appear to be, Bren.”

  I swiveled my head back around and focused my concentration on Acaw’s back. I’d give anything to hear Jazz’s voice again, snitty or not.

  In a rare moment of volunteering information, Acaw said, “There are more types of oldeFolke and more ancient, forgotten Sanctuaries than you know—than any modern witch knows. Many of these places existed before the time of the Path.”

  “But I’m King of the Witches, and this is important. Isn’t there some book I can study, or someone who can teach me?”

  Acaw seemed to consider for a moment, then responded simply, “No.”

  I didn’t believe him. “Why not?”

  Acaw’s crow-brother cast me another of those oh-would-you-shut-up stares as the elfling said, “It is the way of things. Secrets knit the fabric of time, Your Majesty. All people have secrets.”

  This made some sense. After another few strides, the concept of being in the lands of the Erlking, the legendary and ruthless ruler of the dwarves I had read about during all my studying to be a better witch-leader, started to bug me. “Um, listen. This Erlking. He doesn’t really kidnap kids from the human world and eat them, right?”

  The short guy didn’t glance back or slow down, and the crow-brother kept his evil looks to himself. Somehow, I thought that was bad.

  Maybe very bad.

  “Is he the Guardian I’m supposed to beware?”

  “Look straight ahead,” Acaw instructed. “Keep walking and touch nothing, especially when we leave the stone path and depart the meadow. The Erlking is not known to be forgiving.”

  We walked for hours, then a day. Light came and went. I had to grab food out of my pack and eat it on the fly. Whenever I stopped to go to the bathroom, I ended up running after Acaw, who must have had a bladder the size of the Atlantic Ocean.

  A few times I had a sense of something skulking along beside us in wooded areas— something really big and not so friendly. I kept my hand on the hilt of my sword. My shoulders ached. My feet hurt. But I listened to Acaw. Along the wide path through the eerily quiet forest, I didn’t touch a thing but what my boots landed on. Not a branch, not a tree, not a bush.

  Jazz, I told myself over and over like a marching rhythm. Do it for Jazz. So what if I needed a ledger book to count my blisters? If the elfling felt so freaked out about getting to wherever Jazz was trapped, then I felt twice as freaked out. Jazz needed me.

  She needs me…

  Just the thought of her alive, of seeing her again, talking to her, putting my arms around her, kept me moving when I wanted to drop, kept my sword hand on the hilt of my blade, at the ready, when I wanted to be lazy.

  By the third night, I was staggering. My sword, the stone around my neck—everything, including my feet, seemed to weigh three hundred pounds. Every time I closed my eyes, I drifted toward sleep. Sometimes I stumbled ahead and woke myself up snoring.

  Those who search wander forever…

  Jazz. Jazz needs me.

  I kept on the trail Acaw was following, looked straight ahead, touched nothing except my sword, which I was using like a flashlight in the darkness. Ignored the sliding and rustling sounds on either side of me.

  Long gone was fairyland. This was totally Forest of Doom. If the sun ever touched this place in the daytime, it would never find its way through the heavy-limbed trees. They were twisted and gnarled up like broken skeletons, and I had a sick feeling they were staring at us.

  If I wasn’t mistaken, Acaw was walking a little straighter. His crow-brother sat stiff on his shoulder, head twitching right, then left, right, then left. They stayed just inside the beam of light from my sword.

  From somewhere, low and soft, came the sound of women’s voices singing on the rising wind. It wasn’t like a klatchKoven. Not irresistible, but still, I wanted to listen. The sound gave a rhythm to my stride, and I was so tired I needed something to help me out.

  “Are there fairies here?” My words sounded thick and soft. How long had it been since I took a swig of water? Acaw probably didn’t hear me. “Jeez, the wind is icy. This place feels like the edge of the world.”

  “Yes.” Acaw was suddenly beside me as if he had disappeared and reappeared at my side. I must have been sleepwalking again. I didn’t know what he meant—that there were fairies, or that we really were walking on the edge of the world. I could have believed either.

  A low-hanging branch seemed to reach out of the night to slap me. I shoved it out of my face
, but it scraped my right cheek anyway. Everything seemed to irritate the scar now and it was pissing me off.

  It took me two more steps to realize Acaw had stopped walking. When I turned around, the elfling was standing still as an elf-post with both daggers drawn. His crow-brother was in the air, circling, buffeting on the strong wind.

  “What?” I rubbed my eyes. My teeth chattered. “I don’t hear anything but that fairy-singing. I wish I had a coat.”

  “You touched the branch,” Acaw said quietly. “Raise your sword.”

  The singing got so loud it filled up my brain. I wanted to sleep so, so badly, but the wind—I’d freeze to death. “This is stupid. Are you going to fight me? Punish me or something?”

  “No.” Acaw’s maddening tone never changed. He didn’t move, not even when the arrow sailed out of the trees. I saw it coming, like it was flying in slow motion, but there was no way I could move in time.

  It was a straight shot, a single red arrow, and it struck me dead on, right at the heart. I expected pain, blood—but there was nothing but a thump-crack. The arrow broke and dropped to the ground, useless.

  Eyes wide, I raised my free hand to the spot where I had been hit, and I felt the hard, unyielding lump of the moonstone Sherise had loaned me. The point of the arrow had snapped on that tiny little rock.

  “I’m not dead,” I muttered, still not believing it.

  A loud, furious roar answered me.

  It was bellowing, really. Blasting over the wind and the singing, it was so loud, gravelly, and intense. I’d never heard a giant bear make noise, but I figured I was hearing one. When I turned around, I saw one, too.

  A bear. The size of an elephant.

  About three football fields away, but glowing an eerie red in the night. Waaaay too close.

  Only this bear had hands and feet instead of paws. Hands and feet with great big claws attached. It had a huge head, long fangs, and a pelt like Bigfoot—and did it ever stink. The wind blew its stench straight up my nose.

  I choked on the disgusting smell as it plowed down the path, heading straight at me. The thing was on all fours, but I had a feeling when it stood up to kill me, it would be bigger than a slither.