Starlighter (13 page)

“Jason!” She ran out and embraced him. “I thought you might have been caught!”

“Careful,” Jason said, pulling away. “I’m soaked.”

Elyssa shook water from her hands. “I see that.”

“And Randall’s here, too,” Jason said, nodding toward the darkness behind him.

Randall emerged from a shadow and smoothed out his wrinkled, wet clothes. “Hello, Elyssa.”

“Oh!” Elyssa averted her eyes. “Well…I…I assume Jason has convinced you of the truth.”

“I know he didn’t murder my father, if that’s what you mean.”

She looked at Jason. “What have you told him?”

“Pretty much everything.”

A flash lit up the sky, and thunder rumbled loud and long. Elyssa lifted a hand and rubbed her thumb and fingers together. “More rain. Maybe a lot of it.”

Jason set a hand on Elyssa’s back and guided her through the doorway. “Give us a chance to get dry, and I’ll tell you what’s going on. If another storm’s coming, I don’t think Bristol will be able to find us anytime soon. We
also have to get an arrowhead out of Randall’s back. It’s not a deep wound, but it needs care.”

Inside, the logger’s cabin was warm and well lit. Tibalt knelt close to a blazing fireplace, poking the flames with a long stick. With his eyes wide and his mouth open, he seemed hypnotized.

Knotty shelves lined the log walls and held a variety of basic supplies—bags of potatoes, dried fruit, two old axes, ropes hanging on hooks, bandages, soap and towels, and several lanterns with vibrant flickering wicks. A gray towel hung from a hook, and bubbles coated a bar of white soap.

Jason looked at Elyssa. Her face and hair were clean, as were her clothes. She wore an oversized lumberjack shirt with dark blue squares outlined in black, and men’s black work trousers tied at her undersized waist with a rope.

Since there were no chairs in the single-room cabin, Jason knelt next to Tibalt. He, too, was much cleaner. Even his shoulder-length gray hair was brushed back neatly, revealing a bald spot on top of his head.

“We have shirts and boots,” Elyssa said. “I’ll get them for each of you. And I found a manna tree. Tibalt and I have already eaten some bark, so our bodies have settled down.”

Jason felt his chest. His heart still raced, thumping erratically. “I think the extane helped me escape, but I don’t think my heart can stand much more.”

Randall stood close to the fire and warmed his hands while Tibalt muttered, again using his singsong cadence as he watched the flames.

“A storm beyond the norm, a flood of mud, a flood of blood, the traitors swarm. To flee the tide, see the guide, find the gate and fly inside. The storm transforms, the key is thee, depart this land and set them free.”

When Tibalt’s murmurings faded, Jason touched his arm, now covered with the sleeve of a dark green shirt. “What were you chanting?”

Tibalt looked at him, his face and eyes somber. “A prophecy. My pappy’s words.”

“What storm? The rain we’re getting now?”

“Oh, no, not that. The rain brought back the memory. It is a storm of oppression, I think. Elyssa told me the story, and what a story! The governor’s murder is just the beginning. You’ll see, I tell you. You’ll see. His killers don’t want to end Prescott’s folly—his control of the people and his lust for money. They mean to usurp his seat of madness and extend his reach. Oh, yes, that they do. They will tighten the talons around the throats of the citizens and deepen the pit of despair.”

Jason glanced at Randall. His jaw tightened, but he kept his stare on the flames and his voice silent. What might the governor’s son be thinking now? Did he know deep down that his father was a tyrant?

“What can we do to help?” Jason asked.

Tibalt’s familiar grin returned, missing teeth and all. “Tibber knows only the songs, not the solutions. My pappy made puzzles, and the pieces are scattered.”

Elyssa tossed a shirt and a pair of boots each to Jason and Randall. Jason set his on the floor while unbuttoning. When he peeled off the wet material, the glow of the litmus finger was obvious over his pectoral as it pulsed reddish-orange.

“Ah!” Tibalt said. “You have completed a heroic act. You will soon feel the litmus finger’s guidance.”

Elyssa stared at Jason but said nothing. He threw on the dry shirt and quickly buttoned it. “Guidance is good,” he said softly. “I’ll be watching for it.”

“I think I saw a medical bag somewhere,” Elyssa said. “We should get that arrow out right away.”

Elyssa used a carving knife to open Randall’s wound just enough to withdraw the arrowhead. He bled, but not dangerously so. Although he grunted and tightened his fists throughout the procedure, he stayed calm. Obviously his warrior training had paid off. Elyssa placed a towel over the wound to soak up the blood, wrapped a long bandage around his chest, and tied it in place.

Once all four had settled on the plank floor near the fire, Jason munched on manna bark while relating their escape story, including what he knew of Drexel’s scheme to kill Prescott. When he finished, he looked at Randall, who had listened quietly.

“So,” Jason said, “what do you think Drexel is planning?”

Randall stared at the floor, his face tense. “He’s such a smooth talker, I had no idea he was involved. He took me to my father’s body and showed me the bloody knife. He said, ‘Jason cut a holy relic out of your father’s chest, something that will lead him to the Underground Gateway. We have to catch him and bring him to justice before he escapes to the dragon world.’

“With all the blood around and with my mother crying her heart out, I was enraged, so I didn’t think to ask him to prove it. I just thought about the trick you pulled in the
tournament and that you’d do anything to get what you wanted.”

Jason fidgeted. “Yeah, well, about that trick—”

“Let me finish.” Randall’s voice took on a hardened edge. “I didn’t hear much of Drexel’s speech after that, but Bristol spilled more information later. He kept mumbling about following Elyssa, so after what you told me, I think he and Drexel were using me to kill you and chase Elyssa to the gateway. Once they found it, they planned to kill us both.”

“But why kill you? You believed them.”

Randall looked straight at Jason. “According to the law, because of my father’s death, I would become governor when I reach eighteen. Counselor Orion would rule as a steward until that time.”

“Aha!” Tibalt said. “They waited until Orion’s invocation night to do the deed. I should have guessed that old fox was behind the scheme.”

Elyssa shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Orion’s a crusader, not a politician.”

“She’s right,” Randall said. “It’s Drexel’s plan. If you had been there listening to him, you would know. He’s definitely the mastermind.”

“How could he benefit?” Jason asked. “He’s not in any line of succession.”

Tibalt raised a finger. “Power. Influence. Stature. He is a believer in the portal, and Jason and Elyssa were his tracking hounds. If Drexel could rescue the Lost Ones, he would be the hero of heroes. And you know what happens to the law when a crowd gets worked up to a fevered pitch.”

Jason gestured with his thumb. “They pitch the law out. Then Drexel would humbly and reluctantly accept leadership.”

“And Orion wouldn’t fight it,” Elyssa said, pointing at herself. “He’s in this to get me. Drexel knew where he and Prescott were hiding me, so he relied on Orion’s obsessions and set up this deal. Once Drexel returned with the Lost Ones, Orion would step down and give Drexel the office.”

Jason nodded. “And Orion watches you burn at the stake while you rave about a portal to the dragon world. Almost everyone will believe you’re bewitched, and Drexel and Orion both get exactly what they want.”

As a new downpour pelted the tin roof, the group fell silent. It seemed that a dark blanket had smothered their souls. They were animals being tracked, yet they couldn’t run. Rain, wind, and darkness would be deadlier enemies than Bristol’s dogs and arrows.

After a while, they doused the fire and the lanterns, leaving the glow of dying embers as the only light in the room. Using towels as pillows, the four lay close to each other for warmth and tried to sleep. Jason woke at every unusual sound—a branch falling on the roof, an ember popping in the fireplace, and Tibalt’s occasional snore or indecipherable chanting. With each awakening he clutched the hilt of his sword, still at his hip, and opened his shirt slightly to try to pierce the darkness with the finger’s glow. Fortunately, the pattering on the tin above drowned out the lesser noises.

The constant din of rain felt like a blanket of protection. As long as the creeks ran high, Bristol would be unable to find the cabin. Of course, he could travel on horseback to the bridge at the Tersot commune and double back upstream. But then he wouldn’t be able to bring the dogs, unless he used the covered buggy and walked after crossing the bridge, but that would take him all night.

Soon a dim light eased through Jason’s eyelids. He blinked them open. The glow of a cloudy dawn filtered into the window, and the comforting sound of rain on tin continued to drum through the cabin. He rose to a sitting position. Elyssa lay next to him, curled in a fetal position with a towel clutched to her chest. Tibalt and Randall now slept nearer the fireplace, though it had lost its heat hours ago.

Jason shivered. Something was wrong, and not just the chill of a rainy morning. Something stalked nearby. An odor hung in the air, an odd smell—foul and earthy. It wasn’t unusual to sense these subtle clues, but they seemed stronger this morning, as if every smell and sound—every sense—had been magnified.

Windblown rain pelted the window and plastered a wide leaf against the glass. A shadow crossed a tree trunk, no more than ten paces from the cabin.

Rising slowly, Jason hissed. “Randall! Get your gun ready.”

Randall struggled to his feet, wincing as he raised his photo gun. “What is it?”

“I think it’s a mountain bear.” Jason nodded at Randall’s shaking arm. “The pain must be pretty bad.”

“I can handle it.” Randall used his thumb to turn a dial on the gun’s grip, watching it expectantly. After a second
or two, he shook his head. “It’s not energizing. I have to take it apart and dry everything out.”

Jason drew his sword. “No time for that. Get Elyssa and Tibalt up. We might have to make a run for it.”

Randall crouched and nudged Elyssa and Tibalt. “Why can’t we stay here? That door’s too small for a mountain bear to get through.”

“Trust me,” Jason said. “He can make it bigger.”

Whispering the danger to Elyssa and Tibalt, Randall helped them to their feet.

“A mountain bear?” Elyssa asked. “Jason, how many have you fought?”

“Exactly zero.” Lowering his head, Jason skulked toward the door. “A few weeks ago, Adrian and a friend were in a cave looking for you, and a bear trapped them inside. It’s a good thing they were together. Adrian says one swordsman is no match for a full-grown mountain bear.”

A rough grunt sounded from outside, followed by a loud growl.

“We should escape through the rear door,” Elyssa said, “but which way should we go?”

Tibalt pointed at himself. “I know the way to the boundary from here, but my legs are too old to outrun such a beast.”

Jason nodded at the axes propped on a wall shelf. “Tibber, get an axe for Randall. We can try to wound the bear and then make a run for it.”

Tibalt leaped for the axe and pushed it into Randall’s hands. “Here you go, young’un.”

Randall shook his head. “I’ve never used an axe before. I’m better with a sword.”

“Did you miss axe class?” Jason asked.

“I thought I wouldn’t need it.”

“You thought wrong!” Another growl erupted from outside, deeper, closer. With a glare, Jason shoved the sword at Randall and snatched the axe out of his hands. “Okay,” he said, waving at Elyssa. “You and Tibalt get to the rear door.”

A loud thud shook the cabin. The window shattered. Rain and wind rushed in, brushing back Jason’s hair with a wet slap. He set his feet. Randall did the same, both with double-fisted grips on their weapons.

Another thud sounded, then a crash. The door burst into a thousand splinters. Jason lowered his head to avoid the shards but kept his axe high. A bear stood at the doorway, but only the lower two-thirds of its body were visible. As it tried to squeeze through the door, its powerful body cracked the frame, revealing its shoulders and head.

Jason waved at Elyssa. “Go! Now!” He charged with the axe, ducked low, and swung at the bear’s legs, but it slapped him with a claw. Jason flew to the side and slammed against a wall. The flat of the axe blade struck his forehead and slid down his cheek.

The bear burst through and, still standing on his hind legs, let out a guttural roar that sounded like, “Fool! I stronger!”

Randall raised the sword. “We’ll see about that!”

“No!” Jason shouted. “He’s too—”

Randall lunged, but the bear dodged, knocked the sword loose, and wrapped him up with its massive forelegs. As it squeezed, Randall’s eyes bulged, but he didn’t cry out. He probably couldn’t breathe at all.

Gripping the axe again, Jason stood, but a wash of dizziness made him stagger. He sucked in a breath and set his feet. “Let him go!” he yelled.

As the sound of baying dogs drifted in on the rainy breeze, the bear let out a throaty laugh and a new sequence of growls that sounded like, “Or what?”

Jason glanced at the open rear door. No sign of Elyssa or Tibalt. Would the dogs track them down? He trained his stare again on the huge beast. “Or I’ll crack your skull open with this axe.”

The bear’s forelegs clamped down. Randall’s face turned from red to purple, and his legs dangled limply. “My prisoner,” it growled.

Jason glanced from Randall to the bear, to the sword next to its foot, to the rear door, then finally to one of the shelves. Maybe he could throw one axe and attack with the other. He scanned the shelf, but the other axe was gone.

A scream pierced the air. The bear lurched forward, an axe protruding from its back, the blade deeply embedded. It dropped Randall to the floor, and, as it roared and staggered around, it swatted futilely at the axe handle.