L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  Her gaze cut from Bren to Rol, and finally to the scene around her. I saw her tamp down her amazement at my return, and I felt grateful. For now, we had no time for emotional reunions.

  “Kill the beasts,” Mother said to Rol. “Make sure they—”

  “No!” My shout stabbed through the unnatural silence like one of Bren’s sword strikes. “Do not hurt them. Bind them so that I can release the spell, but harm none.”

  “Jasmina,” my mother began.

  “Do as I say,” I commanded, firmly but as gently as I could, given the circumstance. My confidence didn’t waver for a moment even though I was talking to my mother. “I haven’t the energy to hold these spells and explain myself to you.”

  With a look of absolute surprise, my mother closed her mouth. Rol responded by stalking over to the harpy that had attacked Bren and ripping the sword from the beast’s sharp claws. He cleaned the blade on his breeches, then carried it to Bren’s side, where he placed it on the ground with care.

  When Rol looked up at me, his eyes were bright with worry and other emotions I couldn’t identity. Yet he was Rol. My wonderful Rol. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck, but there simply wasn’t time. Of course, Rol understood this. He gave me a short but deep, respectful bow. Then, wordless, he returned to my mother and they proceeded with the tedious process of wrapping the harpies in bindings of magic that would hold indefinitely. They were careful to loop their feet and pull them to the ground so they wouldn’t simply fall out of the sky.

  It took so long, seemingly forever. I sagged against Acaw’s staff, praying for the strength to stay upright. I didn’t think I could hold on much longer. The ceasing spell was draining me and I was afraid it would be released too soon. And Bren—his hand was already bleeding again. The wound looked angrier and angrier, red spreading slowly up his arm like a wicked burn.

  At last, when Mother and Rol had secured all of the attacking harpies, and after they had positioned a group of oldeFolke and witches in a giant circle to enforce a containment spell, I gripped Bren’s good hand and spoke the word I dreaded.

  “Resume.”

  Everything happened at once. The harpy shot by Rol’s arrow collapsed to the ground. The other harpies set up a shrieking and fought against their bonds. The witches in the circle faltered, panicked, regained themselves at Mother’s command, and managed to cast a containment for extra safety. Bit by bit, the noise of the beasts died away as the magic tamped it down.

  “To the storage barn!” someone shouted. “We can ward them inside it!”

  A chorus of voices spoke spells of lifting and movement, and I knew the harpies were on their way to a temporary prison. As they departed, moans lifted through the heavy, smoky air. The odor of blood, of fire, of torn earth, and scorched flesh assailed me, as did a sense of Bren’s horrid pain. I dropped Acaw’s staff and pushed at my eyes, my ears, trying to block it out, but I couldn’t. Everything seemed to fall on me at once.

  And so one of my first official acts as the returned Queen of the Witches was to sink to my knees and scream. As if in response, a boy came charging through the flames, one hand pressed against his chest.

  For a moment, I blinked hard, denying what I saw. It was Bren—but not Bren. Lighter hair, and as he approached, I could see the bright blue eyes and the torn halves of his shirt.

  Todd. Yes. It had to be Bren’s brother. I had known that the moment I saw the harpy attack him. Kill him. Yet here he came, very much alive. His shirt was ripped shoulder to waist-not even a superficial wound or a speck of blood. Did he have some sort of healing magic? Did Nire’s blood protect him from harm? But that couldn’t be right, or Bren would be protected, too.

  Behind Todd came a virtual army of slithers, some in the air, young ones thundering across the ground. Slithers—in the daytime. Heavens, but someone was doing very, very well with breeding modifications.

  The boy pulled up short at the sight of me. Then his eyes fell on Bren.

  “No!” he shouted. He barked a command to the slithers, but they ignored him. He had to yell two or three times to make them listen, but at last, they settled to the ground and fell still.

  Todd hurried to his brother and dropped down beside him. He touched Bren’s wounded hand, and Bren moaned and thrashed at him, like Todd was causing him pain.

  “Don’t,” I said, forcing myself to get up long enough to go to Todd and kneel down beside him. “I think the wound is magical. He needs true healing.”

  “Then do it!” The boy glared at me with those unearthly blue eyes. Silver energy rippled across his skin, causing me to rock backward.

  “I can’t. As soon as we have the situation in hand, healers will tend to him.”

  Todd’s expression twisted into something like disdain mixed with an emotion I couldn’t identify. Surprise? Triumph? His look startled me, bothered me at some deep level I couldn’t grasp. Before I could name my discomfort, he snorted and turned back to Bren, dismissing me as if I were useless. Every time he placed a hand on Bren, Bren writhed beneath his touch. Silver sparks fired from his skin, flailing at Todd, pushing him back. I even felt a pull on our combined energy, but I couldn’t risk a major healing spell. What if our connection failed in the middle of my effort? I could do more harm than good.

  Something sank inside me. In many ways, I was as useless as Todd thought—but, no. I couldn’t accept that. I had to get up, go help where I could and how I could. Yet, if I left Bren’s side, I wouldn’t even be able to do small magic.

  Todd reached for Bren again, only to be smacked back by a rush of silver energy. The boy took out his frustration with a murderous glare in my direction.

  A man hurried over, followed by my mother and a black-haired girl I recognized with sudden dread. Sherise. The little witch who had come to L.O.S.T. carrying Alderon’s golem. Now she was carrying a sword. It was well-crafted, powerful, but not Bren’s. Likely the blade had been made for Todd, and I remembered now that this traitor had snatched it up when he was wounded by a harpy.

  Every muscle in my body tensed.

  Where was the hateful golem? In her pocket? Perhaps she had it on a chain about her neck. No matter. She had to be disarmed, immediately.

  As soon as she approached, pains shot through the scar on my arm—the wound the Shadows had made—the one that sent me to Talamadden.

  “Stop!” I stood, then almost fell as I backed away from her. I needed to delve into her mind and force the knowledge out, but the sick feeling in my scar—I couldn’t. I’d have to use other means. I didn’t want to get too close to this girl, or her evil talisman from Alderon. “Drop your weapon and stay where you are, traitor!”

  Sherise stumbled like I had struck her. In fact, I had, a little. A bit of blended silver-gold magical energy fell to the ground as she righted herself. In a big hurry, she dropped the blade she was carrying. It fell point-down into the earth and stuck there, rocking back and forth.

  As if sensing my distress, Rol and Acaw came running toward me. I wanted to order them to stop, to turn immediately and fetch healers for Bren, but I knew I had to place duty over personal feelings.

  “Jasmina,” my mother said. “Why are you attacking the child? This madness isn’t her doing.”

  Bren’s father knelt beside his wounded son, even as Todd whirled on me. He hesitated for a second, as if fishing for the right words, then shot off a fine volley. “Don’t talk to Sherise like that. And don’t you dare touch her again.”

  “She is in league with evil,” I said as steadily as I could manage, forcing my gaze away from Bren and meeting Todd’s furious glare. “She has a golem, one of Alderon’s. He sent her here with the hateful thing, no doubt to make an attack like this all the easier.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sherise folded her arms. Her voice was small and weak against the chaos around us. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone here.”

  “She wouldn’t,” confirmed Bren’s father. “She’s been a great help in Bren’s ab
sence, and she and Todd are close. When the harpy attacked him, she drove it back. Oh. I’m sorry. We’ve never really been introduced, have we?”

  He was about to continue when Rol and Acaw reached us. “Search her.” I nodded to Sherise. “She has a golem. I saw it in a vision.”

  Todd let out a shout of anger and made as if to block their path to the girl. Acaw retrieved his staff from the ground and slipped around the boy in typical elfing fashion. Rol, in typical Rol fashion, simply moved the boy out of his way, prompting my mother to take Todd by both arms from behind. He struggled in her grip, but I could tell it was halfhearted. He knew he was bested, and he didn’t much like it. Only a few yards away, his slithers stamped and snorted, no doubt feeling his distress.

  “Send them back to their day-lairs,” Mother told him.

  “Drop dead!” Todd shot back, and didn’t even hang his head when his father gave him a stern look.

  To my tremendous surprise, my mother did not slap the boy for his impudence. She didn’t even chastise him. Instead, she turned loose one of his hands and waited patiently, keeping a tight grip on his other wrist.

  As Rol and Acaw took hold of Sherise, she didn’t struggle.

  Todd made a gesture to the slithers and called out a few amplified words in the speech of the oldeFolke. The slithers hesitated, but then, to a one, they departed by wing or by foot, disappearing into the swirling smoke.

  Witches and hags and other oldeFolke came slowly toward us, limping and grimacing, cradling damaged limbs. They saw me, reacted with muttered prayers, some curses—combinations of shock and disbelief at my return. Many were burned, cut, or bitten. Their clothes were in tatters. Blood smeared so many faces. I stopped looking. I couldn’t deal with it, not yet, not with Bren so desperately hurt himself and the girl and the golem…

  I closed my eyes. Too, too much.

  When I opened them again, Acaw was passing his staff over Sherise inch by inch while Rol kept his massive hands on her shoulders. She looked scared and miserable, not at all angry and sullen as I had expected. I wanted to order the elfling to hurry, but I held my tongue. Actually, I bit it. All I wanted at that moment was to fall to the ground and cradle Bren, but that wouldn’t make him any safer. Not until the golem was destroyed. Who knew what other monsters might follow its beacon-call to evil? We could be beset by more harpies, by anything. Even Shadows.

  I shivered. There are no Shadows. Nire is gone. Stop panicking over nothing!

  By the time Acaw reached Sherise’s left leg, it seemed like the entire population of L.O.S.T. was crowded around. Gazes directed at me were full of shock and wonder, except for the hags, who glared as they always did. Many onlookers stared at Bren and clasped and unclasped their hands, clearly concerned. Still others gaped at the inspection of Sherise until Acaw spoke.

  “It is here, Your Majesty.” He gestured toward the girl’s left shoe.

  My mother stiffened. Todd’s glare reached inferno proportions.

  Sherise hung her head, then shook it slowly back and forth. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone here,” she repeated. “I wouldn’t, honest. You have to believe me.”

  “Be silent,” I snapped, hugging myself. “Acaw, remove it.” To Mother, in the best concession I could make to Todd, I said, “Will you help her through the death of the monstrosity? I don’t want her to die, though that would be a fitting punishment.”

  And I don’t want to be the one to go into her mind. A wave of shivers claimed me for a second as I remembered having to delve into Bren’s consciousness, and the ancient magic he inherited from Nire. That had been a nasty surprise, indeed.

  My mother hesitated briefly, but at last, she nodded.

  “My mother will assist you in breaking free of its hold, if you cooperate.” I couldn’t help the strength of my glare, directed fully at Sherise. “Otherwise, you’ll die as it dies. Do you understand?”

  Rol lifted Sherise a few inches from the ground, and the elfling used his staff to pull off the girl’s shoe. It fell to the grass, and out tumbled a writhing, leering horror formed of mud, thatch, and vile blood-magic.

  As one, the crowd drew back. Hags and hag-spirits hissed, crow-brothers squawked, and witches muttered wards and protections. My mother, always coolheaded in any crisis, handed Todd to his father and quickly bound the wriggling horror with the appropriate spells. Then she turned her attention to Sherise. I saw Mother draw deep within herself as she connected with the girl, pushing back the golem’s influence, severing the connection Alderon had established.

  Mother’s eyes went wide.

  Sherise shook from head to toe, but she didn’t cry out or fall down.

  By the look of it, Sherise was not fighting my mother’s aid. Bit by bit, their shared looks of distress receded, until they both sagged at the shoulders, releasing their connection. I could tell they were successful, because the golem quickly grew weak, and Sherise’s life energy did not diminish.

  When the golem at last grew still, Acaw removed a cloth bag from his pocket, wrapped the creature into the folds, and tied it securely with a charmed string. This bundle he returned to his pocket, and I knew he would see to its destruction.

  Then all eyes turned to Sherise, who hung limply in Rol’s grasp. She was sobbing now, murmuring “I’m sorry” over and over.

  My mother stepped forward to say something, then glanced at me and thought better of it. Instead, she returned to Bren’s father and Todd, and awaited my judgment.

  The three of them looked equally miserable, and I could tell by the cold hatred in Todd’s eyes that I had made an enemy of Bren’s brother even though I had been right. Perhaps because I had been right. I couldn’t help a sigh.

  It was time to be a queen again. I found I didn’t relish the job any more than I did the first time I was alive.

  “Put her in the store’s anteroom under a containment spell. Have two witches on guard at all times. We haven’t the time to determine how much of this slaughter lies at her feet. Yet.” Rol nodded, and he and Acaw departed with the traitorous witch.

  At the same time, several healers pushed through the crowd and took over the care of Bren. A third took me by the arm, and I didn’t fight as she led me toward a healing hut. My mother fell into step beside me as I craned my neck to see where they were taking Bren. I had to know, to get to him as soon as possible. We were stronger together than apart. He needed me, or maybe I needed him. At that moment, I didn’t care.

  “He will be fine, daughter,” my mother said gently. “As will Todd. The boy’s temper—well, he is much like his brother used to be. Bren has grown into his responsibilities.”

  “I know.” I felt my mother’s arm drape around my shoulders, and the sensation startled me. When had she become one to show affection? And in front of people, no less?

  As we entered the healing hut, I cast one more look over my shoulder. L.O.S.T. smoldered sadly in the background.

  “Later,” my mother said, helping the healer steer me to a bed. “We will have time to count our losses and bind our wounds. An accounting, surely, and we must determine what to do with those harpies. For now, though, you need rest and nourishment.”

  The healer forced me to lie down, and when she turned her back to gather her supplies, my mother actually pulled the sheet up to cover me, as if I were still a small girl. Shock mingled with fatigue, but my eyes grew too heavy too fast to say anything to her.

  “Well done, my beautiful young woman,” she whispered softly, lifting one of my hands to her lips. “You can’t imagine how proud I am, or how happy I am to see you. Welcome home, Jasmina.”

  Then, through my sleepy haze, I thought I saw my mother crying.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  My sight wavered. Fuzzy. Dim. I couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t focus on what was going on around me. Dreams. Memories. Two people half dragging me, half carrying me to a healing hut. Rol? My dad? I couldn’t tell.

  Images flashed through my mind. Jazz at Shadowbridge, dyi
ng from the wound in her arm. Alderon at the gates of Nire’s lair in Old Salem. My mother—Nire—laughing and laughing.

  But no, wait. Not her. Someone else. Todd. A little man too shadowy to see. A hairy giant made out of fleas. A flea-giant with huge square teeth. Everything whirled together. The laughing had to stop, or I’d lose my mind. The flea-giant bent down and bit off my arm.

  I shouted from the agony, and the giant vanished.

  A bed. I was in a bed and something was wrong. Bad wrong.

  Pain. God, the pain. Creeping up my arm to my shoulder. Memories came back to me in small bursts. The harpy. My sword. My fingers.

  No. It wasn’t real. I’d only imagined I’d lost my fingers. I could feel them.

  Ghost pains, some distant memory spoke to me, and I remembered hearing how people who lost legs and arms still felt as if they were really there.

  “No,” I mumbled. My words came our slurred as I tried to speak. “They are there.”

  “Shush, lad.” The healer was suddenly standing over me, but I could barely make out her wrinkled face.

  “Todd. My brother…”

  “Your brother has no injuries. Spend no worry on his account.”

  No worry? But the harpy cut him down!

  “I saw—” my voice choked. I felt so weak I couldn’t lift my head.

  “Do not doubt me, boy,” came the harsh command. “Todd is in fine shape. Would that I could say the same for you.”

  She began chanting in the olde language. I cried out as a burning sensation rushed up my arm. My head was going to explode! What was she doing to me? What was happening?

  I tried to jerk my arm away. Tried to get up, but I was pinned by the shoulders. Rol, I thought. The big walking rock was holding me down.

  One of the oldeFolke mumbled a healing spell as she pressed a cool cloth to my forehead. Scents of passion flower and poppy seed overwhelmed my senses…then everything went black.

  My head ached so badly I didn’t want to open my eyes. I heard whispers in the background, but I kept my lids shut as I tried to piece together where I was. What had happened.