L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  That tug happened again, the one down inside me, in my gut. A touch on my magic. A drawing-off of power, but larger this time.

  The contact was familiar. I rubbed my stomach and closed my eyes—and in that second, I knew.

  Jazz.

  She was close. And she was in serious trouble.

  Urgency washed over me. I could feel Jazz’s need for me, taste it, smell it, hear it like she was right there in front of me and screaming.

  “What do I do?” I shouted, shielding my eyes against the sun, spinning around like I might see her pop out of the woods at any second.

  “Need…more.” A voice as light as the breeze whispered past my ear. “Help…open…break…through…”

  Then, even quieter but more insistent, “Draw…down…sun.”

  I no longer questioned anything Acaw had me do. A ritual. I preferred the sword to chanting and rhyming—but for Jazz, anything.

  Magic rituals and I weren’t the best of friends. Too complicated, too boring. I usually just followed everyone else’s lead, even though I could do them myself if I had to. This time, though, I didn’t want to screw up any part. My unwilling guide had led me to the door in forgotten lands, I had wandered forever, and beaten the Guardian. I knew I had the old blood. This had to be the place, the time. I was ready.

  And once I got through the door and to the other side, I was going after my girl.

  Breathing hard, trying to focus, I snatched up the rose-scented stuff and smeared it everywhere Acaw told me to. I didn’t even balk when he told me to put the antlers on. In the meantime, he poured water on a small flat stone, sprinkled salt on the rock next to it, and lit a white candle and incense that smelled like pine.

  “Now,” the voice whispered, more urgently. “Now!”

  “Do you hear her?” My gaze shifted to Acaw. “Something’s really wrong.”

  “Aye,” he said as he handed me his staff. “Hear me. The living may not cross into the land of the dead and return. Do you understand?”

  I clenched his staff in my fist. “I get it. If I cross over, I’m dead.”

  Acaw nodded. “Only the old blood may pass.”

  “What?” I cut him a look. “I thought my old blood let me defeat the Guardian. What does it have to do with this?”

  For a second there, I thought I saw a look of concern or worry—but then he turned into the blank-faced monk again, and nothing more. Charms tinkled softly from the top of the wooden staff he had given me. He backed up to the tree line and his crow-brother flew down to land on his shoulder.

  “What now?” I demanded as Jazz’s voice became more urgent in my mind.

  “Draw a circle around you and the door,” Acaw said as he drew his own circle in the air.

  In a big hurry, I dragged the point of the staff in the snow until it connected to where I’d started.

  “Stand before the stone,” Acaw instructed. This time his voice was quiet. Firm. Serious. “And draw down the sun. I can help you no more. The journey is yours from here.”

  I shot my gaze to where he’d been standing. But Acaw was gone. Freaking gone.

  “Bren!” came Jazz’s voice, so loud it surrounded me.

  “Fine.” My body tensed. I kept hold of the staff, but shook out my arms, limbered up, and almost dislodged the stupid antlers from the top of my head.

  Concentrate. Focus. Respond, don’t react.

  I clenched my fist and doubled my grip on the staff. Then I glanced up at the sky to see the sun directly overhead. Something made me reach my arms out, like I was embracing the warmth. It seeped into me. I could feel the sun as if it was drawn to me, as if it filled my entire body with heat and power, so much so that I shook with it.

  My eyes opened and I lowered my gaze and looked directly at the black stone. The sun seemed to sink into it, too, and the surface shimmered, wavered… and I saw a reflection.

  Oh.

  Oh, jeez.

  It wasn’t mine. The reflection wasn’t mine.

  It was Jazz!

  In real human form.

  She stood just like I did, arms outstretched, but caressed by silvery moonlight instead of golden sunlight.

  “Jazz,” I whispered, and that ache of missing her welled up inside of me. “I’m here, baby. I’ve come to get you.”

  She moved her arms from her sides. The staff I had been holding dropped forward, against the black stone as I mimicked Jazz’s motions, bringing my palms directly in front of me, to lay them flat against the rock.

  Thunder rolled across the mountaintop.

  My hands slipped into the stone as if it was air.

  Flesh met flesh. Jazz’s hands. I was touching her real, live hands!

  Our fingers twined together within the dark stone and I felt her warmth, caught her scent of cinnamon and peaches.

  In that instant, something sizzled through us, like when she’d given me her magic. I could see the silver and gold mesh and meld, moving between us, around us.

  I saw Acaw’s staff fall through the black wall and tumble onto dark ground on the other side. I didn’t stop to think about it. I started to pull Jazz to me.

  A new smell clogged up my nose. This one rotten, like bad eggs or way dead animals on the side of the road. I tensed. Jazz leaned toward me, tried to fling herself into my arms. I wanted her to. I wanted to save her so badly, to make her alive again and hold her and tell her how much I needed to see her. The field inside the stone was so strong, though. It fought back each time I tried to tear her free.

  From somewhere, seemingly a million miles away, women started singing. Acaw started chanting—almost like swearing. Did elflings swear? My mind felt fuzzy, like something was touching it.

  From behind.

  A laugh started, low, foul, and awful. The image of dripping blood filled my thoughts. On the other side of the stone, a bird shrieked, followed by a hideous, ear-pounding bawling.

  “What the—” I tried to shut the images out of my mind. Clenching my jaw, I yanked twice as hard to pull Jazz out of the shimmering black stone.

  Something jerked her head back.

  She yelled and stumbled, still gripping my hands. At the same time, something shoved me from behind.

  I heard another unearthly cry just as I tumbled forward. Fire seared every inch of my body, muscle to muscle, bone to bone. Melting. Frying. I was in the black wall. Something in my chest weighted me, tried to shove me backward—but then I was through.

  Shouting, clawing, fighting with all the strength I had left, I plunged into the land of the dead.

  ***

  Chapter Seven

  “No!” I screamed as Bren came hurtling through the doorway between the living world and the land of the dead. “You can’t be here. You can’t cross over!”

  “Like I had a choice,” he snarled as he leaped to his feet and the stag horns tumbled off his head. Only, as his image rose from the ground, it changed… into a large brown raptor. Some sort of hawk or eagle. His sword was clasped in his talons, but I could still see the outline of his human body. It shimmered around his winged form, anchored at his chest as if by a tether.

  “Crap. I’m a bird.” That was all he said, and all it took for my spirits to swell.

  Goddess, Bren was here, no matter what form he took. I had been touching him, close to resting in his arms. Now he was in Talamadden in mortal peril. And he was a bird.

  Harpy claws scored my cheek and neck. I ducked, swearing at the sudden pain. Egidus let out unearthly trills and screeches. All around us, the stench of decay, the horrid pounding of wings, and that sheep bleat of the deranged flying monsters drowned out all other sensations.

  Bren’s deep brown hawk eyes were sharp and focused as he assessed the situation. The sword in his talons lit the path and the grotto easily, as well as the air above us.

  Quick as always in a battle, Bren lunged forward and used his beak to snatch up the staff that had fallen through the doorway. With a snap of his head, he tossed it to me. I could tel
l by the charms and carvings on the tip that it was of elfling construction, very old, very powerful. A wash of energy let me know who carved it, and who had threaded the magical charms through it. My loyal, brave Acaw.

  As I wielded the weapon to strike a harpy across the talons, Bren flapped upward, wheeling about like an expert flyer. He swiped at the closest beast with his sword, nicking off a wicked claw.

  The creature reeled out of sight, bawling like a wounded baby.

  Instantly, the rest of the flock swirled through the light of Bren’s sword, moving upward just as fast, blatting in an eerily concerned fashion.

  For a moment, the sickening calls sounded like words.

  I held tight to the staff.

  Wait a minute.

  Those sounds were words. A name, cried over and over. Pleas for help and comfort from the injured harpy. And wailing, like the sobbing of a child. At that moment, the human-like faces of the beasts were quite disconcerting.

  It was the staff. Acaw’s staff must be giving me some of the elfling gift of translation. Well, crow-brothers were the translators, but an elfling’s magic was intertwined with the energy of their familiars.

  “They’re—” I started, but didn’t know how to finish. “I don’t think we should hurt them anymore. They’re pitiful.”

  “You are kidding, right?” Bren sounded incredulous and more than a little sarcastic. He finished the question with a hawk’s shrill keening.

  Before I could give him a proper comeback, Egidus reeled in for a landing. His black eyes glinted with horror when he saw Bren. “No. No. You were to go to him, girl!”

  “I know that,” I snapped. “A harpy jerked me back and I fell. Bren fell with me.”

  “Somebody pushed me,” Bren grumbled, circling back, sword at the ready. “And who is that thing?”

  As many times as I had dreamed of beheading the peacock and cooking him for a scant meal, I sighed. “This is Egidus, my spirit guide. Please don’t behead him unless I ask you to.”

  Bren cut his hawk eyes toward the moonlit sky. Ominous harpy shadows circled high above, blotting out stars and calling to each other in that awful, pitiful way. “Fine. Can we get out of here now?”

  “That would be advisable,” Egidus agreed.

  “What kind of name is Egidus, anyway?” Bren kept his eyes skyward as he flapped toward the stone. His shimmering human outline still waited there, tethered to him by a silver cord at the heart.

  “It’s Greek, thank you,” said the blue bird. He sounded offended. “It means young goat, I believe.”

  Bren gave an eagle’s screech. “That’s stupid. You’re a peacock.”

  Egidus blinked. Then he turned slowly to gaze at me. “You crossed the land of the dead to return to this?”

  I shrugged, feeling a pleasant and unpleasant pounding in my chest. The shining outline of Bren on the other side of the obsidian rock looked as handsome and rugged as ever with his long hair—I knew it would be brown. And his skin would be tanned, and I thought I saw that stubble of a beard he always seemed to sport. His tunic and breeches fit better than ever, showing off the muscles he had added since I last saw him.

  “He’s more than he seems to be,” I said quietly. “Usually kind. Loyal—well, unless he’s enchanted by a golem. And caring, unless he gets too angry. And—”

  “Seems like a boor to me, but your choices are your own.” The bird’s tone was decidedly cool. “Hawks are bloodthirsty, you know. All brawn, low on brains,”

  “Hello?” Bren had reached the altar. “I want to go back where I’m not a bird. Jazz, you coming?” Above us, a harpy screeched something about eating, and human, and hunger, and dinner. No time to waste,

  I ran to Bren. He managed to keep himself aloft and clench his sword in one talon, but pointed it tip down as I took his other talon in my hand. Only, it felt like fingers. The sensation doubled the drumming of my heart. He was here beside me. Bren had come for me, to save me like I was some princess trapped in a tower—only he had risked the land of the dead, his own death, and the Goddess only knew what else.

  Impulsive. Irresponsible.

  When I knew him before I died, I might have said those words aloud. After Talamadden, the old words seemed just as wrong for him as they were for me. So, I thumped Acaw’s staff and kept them to myself. I thought instead about the bravery. The brashness. The warmth of his bird form hovering and flapping next to me.

  Together we faced the stone.

  I was struck by a sense of wrongness, and realized the peacock hadn’t joined us. “Egidus?” I leaned on the staff and looked back over my shoulder. “Are you coming?”

  He ruffled his feathers and straightened his long blue neck. “This is not my path. It is your exit, your destiny. I regret that I cannot borrow it.”

  “What?” Bren hooked his talons around my hand and flapped his big wings, urging me forward. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

  “He talks in riddles.” I felt like I was defending the bird. That I couldn’t believe, after all we had been through. I also couldn’t believe how wrong it felt to just cross over and leave Egidus behind.

  Bren’s tugging on my hand grew stronger, as did the strong pumping of his wings. “Jazz…”

  The harpy shadows dropped lower, filling the air with their rotten stench.

  “Wait one moment.” Egidus hurried forward to stand beside me. With a quick motion of his beak, he plucked one of his lovely iridescent eye feathers. I took it from him carefully when he offered it and gripped it against Acaw’s staff. “Do me a kindness and give this to your mother. Tell her who sent it. And tell her—tell her love is never wrong.”

  “Love is never wrong” I repeated underneath the thump and thunder of harpy wings.

  “Go now,” the bird urged.

  “We’re going,” Bren said. This time he tugged my hand so hard I fell forward with him into the stone. Into the blackness.

  ShadowsclearGoddessnoShadowspleasenoShadows

  Even as my fears rushed through my mind, I smelled them. Shadows. Fetid. Real. Pulling. Clawing. Trying to tear Bren away from me. I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t feel fingers or talons or feathers. Only coldness.

  I shouted, but made no sound. My grasping fingers felt something, a chain—a metal chain with a stone at the end. I closed my hand tight around the stone and pulled with every fiber of my being.

  Let the peacock be right. Let there be one miracle left for the Corey family.

  Bren was my family now. I would not lose him to the Shadows. Hauling on that precious stone, I yanked Bren to me and held on to him. He felt fully human now, pressed against me, hugging me back. I gripped his shoulders, gripped the bird feather and Acaw’s staff with all my strength. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think of what to do. Why didn’t Bren raise his sword and slay the Shadows? Were we flying or sliding? I couldn’t tell in the rancid darkness.

  Out. I needed air. I needed land. Shadows everywhere, flailing me. Sapping me. Trying to steal what I couldn’t stand to lose a second time.

  Death, the wicked creatures chanted. He belongs to us now. He belongs in the land of the dead.

  No! I made some noise this time, if only in my head. You can’t have him. You won’t rip us apart a second time!

  Bren’s arms locked tighter around me. I buried my face against him, letting his scent, his strength, his energy push the Shadows away.

  Slimy, horrid fingers on my ankle and foot. Grabbing at my legs.

  No!

  We tumbled out of night into noon sun so fast the light blinded me. I coughed and choked as we struck hard, rocky earth. The staff and the peacock feather flew out of my hand as I rolled away from the still-shimmering Glorieuse.

  Bren. Where was Bren?

  I tried to stand up and fell. Fresh, sharp pain flared in my hip and elbow. The pains I knew in Talamadden were real enough, but this—ah. No muting. Completely real and so very, very alive.

  “Easy,” said a familiar elfling voice. “Give
yourself a moment to regain balance, both within and without.”

  “Acaw?” I couldn’t believe my own ears. This was too good to be true.

  The tip of his staff met my throbbing hip and I felt a flash of magical warmth. The pain eased immediately. Next came my elbow, healed in the briefest of moments, and then the gashes on my cheek and neck.

  “Could you give me a little of that, short guy?” Bren’s voice came from behind me.

  I rolled over, got to my knees, then stood slowly as Acaw ministered to Bren’s bumps and bruises. Bren was human again, with no trace of the hawk except in those bright brown eyes. I could see them shining toward me as Acaw worked. The elfling had my peacock feather tucked into his waistband, and it was nearly taller than he was.

  To see them both in front of me—it felt like a dream. Wonderful and fascinating. I noticed details, like the cut of Bren’s tunic, the deep lines etched into Acaw’s weathered face, the way the sun bounced off the crow-brother’s blacker-than-black feathers.

  We were on a mountaintop beneath a clear blue sky, some time after noon.

  In the world of the living.

  Acaw looked as stunned as I felt, but the look passed quickly.

  “I’m alive.” I shook my head. “I’m really alive.”

  Bren got to his feet a few paces away and slowly sheathed his sword. “Me, too, and I shouldn’t be. I crossed over. Though I think I had a little help.”

  “Only the old blood may pass.” Acaw shrugged. “Your physical body remained in the stone, but your essence moved through. None but a halfblood with such ancient strength would have survived that journey.”

  “Was the Erlking here?” Bren’s voice was deadly serious as he spoke to the elfling. In that one question, I heard the force of months as a ruler.

  Acaw gave a stiff nod. “Aye. Him and his. I did what I could to drive him back, but I feared it was too late to save you.”

  “The Erlking.” I shivered. “I had hoped never to meet him in all my days. You had to best him to get this far?”

  Bren nodded as he rubbed his fingers behind his ear. His expression was a mixture of rage and determination, but as he gazed at me, my champion’s sharp brown eyes went soft.