“You made it,” Marcus said. “That’s what counts.” He held his hand up in the air, palm forward. “Give me five.”
Cascade examined Marcus’s hand. “Five what?”
Divum landed her ciralatus beside them. “Have you seen Caelum?”
Kyja shook back her wet hair. “I thought he was with you.”
“Who cares?” Marcus said. “We won!” He was exhausted, but at least it was over. They’d opened the box, freed the Aerisians, and protected the city. Now, all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep.
“The battle is not yet over,” Divum said.
Marcus looked around. “What do you mean? The golems are gone.”
“We won.” Kyja wiped her hands across her face, leaving muddy streaks. She looked as exhausted as he felt. “Thank you for your help.”
“The battle here is over,” the Aerisian said. “But another begins tonight.”
Cascade cupped his hands to his eyes and stared into a distance none of the rest of them could see. “The air elemental is right. The Summoner’s army will reach Icehold shortly after sunset.”
Icehold! Marcus had forgotten all about that. A sick feeling of despair filled him. Hadn’t they done enough? Wouldn’t the Dark Circle ever leave them alone? “Can you get there in time?” he asked Cascade.
The Fontasian nodded. “Yes. But I would be no match for a Summoner by myself.”
“What about you?” Kyja asked Divum.
“We can reach Icehold,” Divum said. “But our mounts need rest first. We used them up getting here. Someone must arrive first and warn them.”
Cascade could go, but would the people of Icehold believe a blue boy with white hair and no sense of humor? Or would they assume he was just another monster from the other side of the Forest of Before Time and attack him?
Kyja rubbed her eyes. Blood dripped from a dozen nicks and cuts on her arms and legs.
It isn’t fair, Marcus thought. Can’t we get a single moment to celebrate any of our victories?
“We have to go to them,” Kyja said. “We promised.”
Marcus nodded. “But how? There’s no way we can make it in time.”
“Am I correct in understanding that someone is in need of transportation?”
Marcus turned to see Zhethar basking in the rain. Drops hit his icy scales and froze in a glittering sheen.
“Can you take us to Icehold before the Summoner arrives?” Kyja asked. “On Mr. Z’s racing snail, it took at least a day.”
“Pah!” the frost pinnois spat. “Snails are for eating, not racing.”
“I’ll give you a storm to push you, one like you’ve never seen,” Raindrop said. “And a well-placed storm might slow the Dark Circle’s forces as well.”
Marcus looked from the Fontasians to the frost pinnois and sighed. It was going to be an icy ride, and no matter how warmly they dressed, they would probably freeze to death on the way.
Then he looked at Kyja, who was grinning widely. The rain made her hair and clothes cling to her like a waterlogged scarecrow.
He wiped a hand across his face and grinned. “Let’s do it!”
Chapter 44
The Flying Weasel
Zhethar wasn’t joking about being fast. It was hours before sunset when the frost pinnois landed in the street outside The Seven-Fingered Lady, the inn where they’d stayed the last time they were there. Raindrop hadn’t been kidding about the storm either. Kyja’s arms were so cold she could barely bend them, and Marcus hobbled like an old man as he got down.
“I had no idea anything could fly so quickly,” Kyja said.
The frost pinnois chuckled. “I was coasting on the last part. So you wouldn’t think I was showing off.”
People from the nearby buildings and streets were coming out to gawk at the huge ice creature. Several of them held swords and looked distinctly unfriendly.
“Maybe you’d better go,” Marcus said.
“But thanks for your help.” For once, Kyja didn’t give the creature a hug. She was already cold enough. With a tinkle of frozen feathers, Zhethar flapped his wings and lifted into the air.
“Come on,” Marcus said after the frost pinnois flew out of sight. “Let’s get to the wall to see if we can find that man we met—before people start asking questions.”
“Did we actually meet him?” Kyja asked. “Or does that not count since we went back in time?” Were the two of them already inside the inn eating with Mr. Z? If so, they could give themselves advice that would help out a lot. But if they did, would they still be here now?
“No clue,” Marcus said. “This whole time travel thing is way too confusing.” Using the staff he’d found by the tower, he followed Kyja to the city wall.
Kyja thought the city felt warmer than the last time they were here. The streets were still icy, and the buildings were still covered with snow, but now the ice was slushy and the snow was melting from the roofs in a steady stream of water.
“Feels like the Fontasians are getting the weather straightened out,” Marcus said.
It took them a while to find the man, but eventually they discovered him talking to three soldiers wearing heavy armor.
“Admiring our wall, be ye?” the man asked Marcus.
“Mined straight from the Altarian Mountains,” Marcus said.
The man looked surprised. “Took ye for outlanders. Per’aps I was mistaken?”
“No,” Kyja said. “You’re not wrong. We’re from Terra ne Staric.”
“With the weather clearing up a mite, the view should be a good one.”
“We aren’t here for the view,” Marcus said. “We’ve come with a warning. Your city will be attacked tonight.”
“Attacked, is it?” One of the soldiers laughed. “Well, the odds be good on that. We be attacked at least thrice a week.”
“Not like this,” Marcus said. “A Summoner is on its way right now. With a bunch of Thrathkin S’Bae.”
The soldiers’ faces hardened. “Summoner? Never heard o’ such a beast.”
“You have,” Kyja said. “You just didn’t know that’s what it’s called. Remember when one of the soldiers told you about a big, red creature with a body like a snake, huge wings, and teeth as tall as a man? With an army of undead?”
All four men burst into laughter. “Ye be spending too much time in ale houses, ye do. Listening to tall tales. There be no such creature.”
“There is,” Marcus said. “And it’s coming tonight with a bunch of dark wizards and Fallen Ones. You have to prepare.”
“Listen here, lad.” The man they’d met before laughed. “Even if there do be such a creature—and I not be saying there be or there don’t—the city guard would stop it like that.” He snapped his thick fingers.
“You don’t understand,” Kyja said. How could she make him believe her?
“If you don’t prepare now,” Marcus said, “your whole town will be destroyed.”
The man from the wall stopped laughing. “Enough!” he snapped. “If it’s a look ye be wanting, I’ll have a man take ye up the wall. But I’ll hear no more talk of make-believe creatures and destroyed cities. So either be up the wall, or be on your way.”
Marcus turned to Kyja. “He won’t listen. The Dark Circle is going to come, and Icehold will be destroyed just like Windshold.”
That was it. Windshold. That’s how they could convince him.
“Listen to me carefully,” Kyja said. “I know this sounds crazy, but we’ve been here before on this night. You took us up to the wall and showed us how to—what did you call it?—scry, I think. You just don’t remember.”
The man opened his mouth. But Kyja couldn’t let him interrupt. “Later that night—which is tonight—your town was destroyed by a Summoner, a dozen or more Thrathkin S’Bae, and the same kind of army that destroyed Windshold. I can prove it.”
The man rubbed his chin. But at least he was listening. “And how would ye do that?”
“Your name is Freeman
Arstel.”
“Ye could’a heard that anywhere.”
Kyja pointed to the leather string around his neck. “The medallion hanging from your neck—it’s a flying weasel.”
Freeman’s eyes widened.
“It belonged to your brother,” Kyja continued. “He called it his good luck charm. But he died in Windshold anyway. You wear the medallion in his memory.”
The man stared at Kyja. “How could ye be knowing that?” he asked softly.
“We couldn’t,” Kyja said, praying he would believe her. “Not unless we’re telling you the truth.”
He nodded slowly. “Ye speak true. But be ye sure o’ this Summoner?”
“Does a friddersnap sheer ferns?” Marcus asked.
“Do you see anything?” Kyja asked for the tenth time in as many minutes.
“Nay,” Freeman said, staring into the scrying window, which Kyja couldn’t see. “Ye still be sure o’ this attack?”
Kyja nodded. But what if she was wrong? What if something had changed this time, and the Summoner chose another target? Or if the golems’ defeat changed the Dark Circle’s plans? The entire city of Icehold was armed and waiting for an attack, with guards stationed every twenty paces along the outer wall and hundreds more manning catapults, ballistas, and barrels of oil, ready to be lit at a moment’s notice.
Every man, woman, and child not manning the walls had spent the last few hours clearing snow around the outside and inside of the walls in case the Thrathkin S’Bae came from underground in their snake form.
How would Kyja explain if she ended up being mistaken? Even worse, what if, while the Aerisians were on their way here, the Summoner turned back to Terra ne Staric, which was now unprotected?
“They’re almost here,” a voice said from only a few feet away.
“Rock and bone!” cried a soldier, dropping the ladle he was about to dip in a water barrel.
A blue head with white hair rose from the barrel, and Freeman raised his crossbow, his mouth an O of disbelief and terror.
“It’s only Cascade!” Marcus shouted. “The water elemental we told you about.”
Freeman carefully lowered his weapon, his finger still close to the trigger. “Aye, I see that now. But ye didn’t be telling me he’d be climbing out o’ me water barrel. Next thing there’ll be ghosties comin’ out o’ me wife’s butter churn.”
Kyja hurried over to Cascade, who was watching the soldier with a look of concern.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Cascade looked out into the darkness and pointed to the southeast. “Sixteen Thrathkin S’Bae are half a league that way. Twenty more, the same distance to the northeast. As soon as they get near the wall, they’ll turn into giant snakes and tunnel underground. Watch closely, and you can see the ground rising above them.”
Freeman rubbed the back of his hand across his lips. “Never have I seen men tha’ could turn to snakes. Then again, never did I see little blue men peeping out o’ me water barrel.”
He turned to the soldiers beside him. “Ye there, move the ballistas to the corners o’ the wall. And set a dozen’a me best archers to watch. At the first sign o’ movement, fire into the ground.”
“Aye.” The soldier nodded and ran off down the wall, glancing back over his shoulder at Cascade, still sticking halfway out of the water barrel.
“What about the Summoner?” Marcus asked. “That’s what we have to focus on. We have to keep it busy, or it’ll start summoning an army of undead inside the city.”
“It’s headed straight for the Eastern gate,” Cascade said. “Don’t bother trying to use magic on it. It’s practically immune.”
“Ye be sure o’ this?” Freeman shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe I be taking battle advice from a blue head.”
“He’s right,” Marcus said. “Arrows won’t hurt a Summoner much unless you get a lucky shot.”
“How close are the Aerisians?” Kyja asked Cascade.
“They’re on the way,” he said, “But I don’t think—”
A horn sounded, interrupting him. “Attack, attack!” a man screamed. Before anyone could react, the Summoner was on them.
“Look out!” Marcus shouted as a ball of flame crashed into the city gate.
“Aim, fire!” Came the commands farther down the wall, and a cloud of arrows launched from both the top of the wall and inside the city. The Summoner screamed in surprise and fury, then wheeled away.
Below, a horn sounded twice, and huge blocks of stone covered in burning pitch catapulted into the air. One of them hit the Summoner’s right wing, and this time its scream was of real pain.
“Beware the snakes!” yelled Freeman, pointing at the ground.
Kyja looked down to see ridges of dirt coming straight toward the walls. Prepared, the archers opened fire, at least some of the arrows finding their marks.
After that, it was hard to keep track of the action. At least some of the Thrathkin S’Bae got under the walls. Blue fire blasted buildings and people alike. And, despite the attacks against it, the Summoner managed to raise at least part of its undead army.
Kyja turned to watch the battles in the city streets, echoing with fires and screams of pain. But it was nothing like the last time. Fully armed and ready, the citizens met the attacks head on, cutting down the undead anywhere they appeared from the ground.
“I think they’re going to do it.” Kyja grinned, wishing she was down below, fighting with them. “I think they’re—”
“Look out!” Marcus screamed. Kyja spun around to see burning red eyes right in front of her. Sharp talons ripped her from the wall and lifted her into the sky.
“No!” Marcus shouted, casting spells at the retreating Summoner. A handful of arrows flew through the air. But it was too late. The Summoner carried Kyja into the night, squeezing her so tightly she could barely breathe.
“Clever to prepare the city for ussss,” the creature hissed. “My army will be dessstroyed. But the massster will be mossst pleassssed with you.”
Kyja knew she should be terrified, but she wasn’t. Was it because she knew this wasn’t how she was supposed to die? She didn’t think so. Cold wind buffeted her face as she stared up into the Summoner’s red eyes. “You’re the one Marcus calls Bonesplinter.”
“No!” screeched the Summoner. “He is gone. I am a Summoner. Almighty. All powerful.”
But he wasn’t gone. Kyja had been so frightened the first time she saw a Summoner that she’d never realized before that something—or someone—was trapped deep inside the creature. “You want to escape, don’t you? You didn’t want to be like this.”
“Be sssilent!” the Summoner hissed.
Kyja sensed she might be able to pull out whatever or whomever was trapped inside the monster, the same way she always pulled Marcus from Earth to Farworld. Was that part of the magic Master Therapass said was inside her?
“I think I can help you.” She closed her eyes and reached.
“No!” the Summoner howled. “Stop, or I’ll—” Distracted by what Kyja was doing, the Summoner didn’t recognize the Aerisians until they were right on top of it. Suddenly, the wind currents it had been flying on disappeared. At the same time, powerful drafts of air forced it toward the ground.
Panicked, it opened its claws, blew fire at the horrible creatures on their silver steeds, and clawed for the sky.
Kyja plummeted toward the ground. “Help!” she screamed. Just before she hit the ground, a pair of arms closed around her.
“That was fun,” Divum said. “Would you like to try it again?”
Kyja turned to look for the Summoner, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. Was it dead, or had it escaped? She needed to find out more about what she’d sensed, understand what it meant.
A moment later, Divum had landed with her on the walls of Icehold. Marcus came running up to Kyja, his eyes wet with tears. “Are you—? You’re not—?”
“I’m fine.” Kyja laughed. “I’m better than
fine. We did it. We saved Terra ne Staric and Icehold.”
“You are alive.” Marcus searched her as though looking for some mortal wound he’d missed. When he was finally convinced she was really all right he pulled her tight against him. “I think we did it. I think we changed the future. I’m not going to kill you.”
“Oh, good.” Kyja laughed. “That’s a relief.”
Chapter 45
Good-bye
When Marcus entered the royal dining hall, it was already crowded from wall to wall with everyone from the high lord to stable boys. It had been only two days since the golems were destroyed—barely enough time for families to bury their dead—and rebuilding would take years. But for now, everyone was here to celebrate the fact that there was still a city to rebuild, and that so many of them had survived the terrible battle.
He stopped just inside the doorway and leaned on his staff, enjoying the sights of men, women, and children laughing and joking. There was a delicious aroma of cooked food, and precious water flowed everywhere.
His body still ached, and he couldn’t walk far without tiring, but now all of that was for normal reasons, not because Farworld was on the brink of destruction.
“What are you supposed to be? Some kind of prince?” a sarcastic voice asked.
“Very funny.” Marcus looked up at Riph Raph, who was clinging to a chandelier and eating small cooked fish. Marcus tugged self-consciously at the white cape with gold trim, which hung from his shoulders. With his blue silk pants and ruffled shirt, he felt like he should be in a movie or trick-or-treating.
“Where’s Kyja?” he asked.
Riph Raph popped another fish noisily into his beak and flapped a wing toward the far side of the room. “She’s been over there talking to that crazy air woman forever. Personally, I don’t know how she can stand it. Those Aerisians go on and on, talking about this and that. Blah, blah, blah. Until you just want to tell them to stop talking for a minute so your ears can rest.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “I certainly can’t imagine how that would feel.”
“I know,” Riph Raph said, completely missing the sarcasm. “Then there’s her missing friend—what was his name? Cracker? Curtain? Crouton?”
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