The Farwalker's Quest (31 page)

They rapidly gained the lowest ledges. When the climbing became harder, Zeke slipped past Ariel, finding it easier to pull her from above than to push from below. He sang under his breath as they climbed, presumably pleading for permission or help. Snatches of his voice spilled down to her, but so softly that she wondered if the stone could hear him at all.

Before they had scaled more than a dozen feet up, they got stuck. The narrow steps in this staircase were farther apart than they looked from below. Slippery moss clung in cracks that suggested the stone couldn't be trusted—it might fall off in slabs. While Zeke searched for handholds over his head, Ariel clung to the wall, trying to keep panic from shaking her limbs. She wanted to check on their pursuers, but she hardly had space to swivel and look without tumbling off backward.

“The stone thinks we're brave to climb up here,” Zeke gasped. “But it doesn't know how it can help.” He turned his voice back to song.

Ariel slid one hand down her calf to the bone needle tucked in her sock. Though she no longer needed it, touching it still gave her strength.

“Zeke,” she said, not really expecting to break through his focus. “I'm climbing back down. They only want me. They'll let you go, maybe. Stay here.” On solid ground, she could fight. If she surprised them, perhaps she could stab her broken needle into somebody's eye.

She reached carefully with one leg to the foothold below.

“I don't know what trouble you're brewing up there, Ezekiel, but come down at once!”

Ariel recognized the voice before she could turn to its owner. “Storian!”

“Ariel? Is that you? I wasn't sure from afar.”

“Wait!” cautioned Zeke. “Who's that with him?”

Heedless, she scrambled down, tumbling the last feet into Bellam Storian's arms.

“I'm so glad to see you're unharmed.” He embraced her and then held her at arm's length. “Not unharmed after all,” he added. “You look battered, poor thing.”

Zeke's warning belatedly found a hold in her mind. Ariel's eyes jerked to the second man. Even older than Storian, he leaned on a staff and reached to rub one of his knees. Something about his shoulders looked familiar, but she was certain he was no one from home. More important, he was nobody she'd met in the desert with Gust.

Ariel turned back to Bellam. He looked worn, thinner, and bent, but the sight of him still flooded her with homesickness.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I will return the same question to you,” he replied. “The two of you led us on a bit of a chase. These tired old legs are about to give out.”

“We didn't know it was you. Zeke!” She tipped her head up. “Aren't you coming down?”

“He's just being careful,” Storian said. “I can't say I blame him, with all the ill that's afoot. The last time I saw him, he was searching for you. He succeeded, that's clear.”

“I must interrupt,” said the other man. “It was hard for me to hear that my grandson may have stolen a child. Is it true?”

“You're Scarl's grandfather?” Ariel cried.

“Answer my question before I will claim him.”

Ariel tugged a lock of her hair. “Well, he did snatch me,” she said. The old man put a hand over his eyes.

“He was trying to help, though.” Zeke slid down from his ledge. “To protect her from murder.”

The grandfather drew his palm from his eyes to his lips. “This tale grows more grim in the telling. First Liam goes missing, now this.”

His name was Derr Storian, he told them, when they'd all settled to rest. It was something he owned that had flashed in the sun yesterday—an oblong tube like a hollow rolling pin. Glass gleamed inside. When Derr raised it, Ariel could see his eye through the glass, looking twice as big as it should.

“Old men have old-fashioned tricks,” Bellam explained. “We saw you through this from afar, Zeke, but I couldn't tell who you had with you or where you thought you were headed. I feared you were looking the wrong way for home. But it took us a while to catch up.”

“And to make sure you hadn't drowned last night, too,” Derr added.

“We heard you shouting,” Ariel said. “We thought you were Gust.”

At their blank looks, Zeke offered, “He wants to kill us. That's who we were running away from.”

Confusion and alarm creased both elders' faces. “We did no shouting,” began Derr.

Bellam broke the air with a clap. “Stop. I believe you both learned your lessons better than that. This is no classroom, but I must ask you to recite the story properly, from the start. Don't leave anything out.”

Ariel's fingers rose to her collar and the green story bead
there. The gift from Bellam had found its own story, she realized. She just didn't know yet how it would end.

The two Storians listened in disbelief while she and Zeke described their adventures with Scarl. When she admitted that they'd snuck from Hartwater, Derr gazed doubtfully southward. In turn, the old men explained that they'd visited Libros, hoping the Storian there would have news of the darts—or that two Finders would show up with Ariel.

“But we found Liam's home in disarray,” added Derr, “and few of his neighbors would talk.”

Ariel told them that, according to Scarl, Liam Storian had received a dart of his own, but that his mark on hers had since vanished.

“He's dead, then.” Derr sighed. “Despite the dart's warning.”

Ariel exclaimed. “You know what it says?”

Bellam gave her an apologetic look. “Only the outside. I told Derr what I knew, and I'd memorized the symbols I didn't. We worked those out together. I'm sorry, Ariel. I never dreamed the summons was intended for you. With the Finders after it, I thought you'd be best off not knowing anything the dart said. Little good my caution did.”

She waved off his regret. “So tell me that part of the message!”

“It said, ‘It is past time for the Vault to be found. Come take up this challenge no later than Beltane. Timekeeper is counting. Expect riddles and risk.'”

“When's Beltane?” Zeke asked.

“Mayfest,” Derr replied. “Five days from now. Of course, it won't matter, since we haven't the rest of the message inside.”

Afraid they wouldn't believe her, Ariel shared what she'd learned in her nightmare. They greeted her revelation with
astonished excitement. Derr assured her that Cloudspear rose not far away.

“We could get there tomorrow,” he said.

Despite legs that were already trembling, she insisted they go far enough to glimpse it that day. When she crested a hill a few hours later, the view beyond stopped her breath. Flags of mist fluttered from a black spike of stone lording over the valley. Moisture gleamed on the rock like the blood of gored clouds.

Tears of relief pricked Ariel's eyes. She didn't need Derr, climbing slowly behind her, to introduce Cloudspear.

Coming up alongside her, Zeke pointed, not to the spire but lower on its flank. A black slit gaped there.

“The mouth of the mountain,” Ariel murmured. “At last.”

The Storians pleaded old bones and tried to dissuade her from trekking farther that day. Nothing would do but for her to keep going until she'd reached that frowning mouth.

By then, all four were footsore, and their shadows had merged with the twilight. Although much wider than tall, the cave yawned over their heads as they entered. They dropped their gear just inside, amid a rubble of rock.

“Are there great rooms back in there?” Ariel asked, peering into the blackness.

“I've never come in,” Derr replied. “According to stories, it slips around the flank of the mountain, breaking through now and then like the tunnel of a great mole.” He nodded toward the northwest. “The true mouth of the mountain opens that way, facing Libros. Most people would say we've come to the tail end instead.”

“If there's truly a message here for you, Ariel,” said Bellam, “we may have to pass all the way through to find it.”

“We can't without torches,” Derr said. “We can walk to the
mouth on the outside instead and collect fuel on the way. We'll have to take care where the ground falls in, like that.” He gestured. Over their heads, the ceiling was cracked and riddled with chimneys. When the moon rose, its gleam trickled through them, the only relief from the dark.

Before they all lay down to sleep, Zeke slipped past the puddles of moonlight to sing softly in the cave's complete darkness. Too tired to await the results, Ariel found a smooth spot away from the cave mouth and out of the chill mountain wind. Her eyes closed. In the cave's spooky echoes, she hoped not to dream of Misha or anything else.

Not enough hours later, Ariel woke with a start. A glow reflected around her, too near to be sunrise. The Storians hunched alongside a small fire.

A well-honed instinct for danger spiked in her mind. Her shoulders jerked up. “What are you doing?”

Her voice woke Zeke. He blinked, his face rubbery.

“Nothing to trouble your own rest,” Bellam said softly. “Old bones just don't sleep when they're driven so hard.”

Ariel imagined the fire shining for miles, a bright eye in its socket. “If the others are still after us, they might see it!”

“They'll only see that you're no longer alone,” Bellam soothed her. “They won't dare attack you with us here.”

Zeke's hand clamped her elbow. She followed his gaze to the gloaming outside.

A single person approached. From his shape, she could see it was Gust.

A whimper escaped Ariel. She leaped to her feet.

The old men moved less quickly. Bellam rose to stand at the cave's mouth, his hands on his hips. Derr retreated to join Ariel and Zeke.

“It's all right,” he murmured. He hefted his wooden spyglass like a club. “Looks like he's alone. Even with a weapon, he can't just walk up and take you.”

“That's far enough,” Bellam announced.

Just outside, Gust took several steps more. “How about a ‘good morning'?” he called.

“No point in playing games,” Bellam replied. “Go back where you came from and save us all trouble.”

“Oh, I've had so much trouble already, a bit more won't matter.” Gust resumed walking directly toward Ariel and Zeke.

Bellam brandished Derr's walking stick and started toward Gust.

Fingers darted from the darkness behind Ariel to grab at her collar. She wrenched herself free. Zeke sprang away to her
right. A grunt of surprise was cut short by a dull crack. Derr groaned in pain.

Alarmed, Bellam glanced back from the entry. That lapse was enough. Gust dashed forward. Though he tried to resist, Bellam was neither young nor had spent his life working his muscles. Gust yanked the staff free and cracked it against the Storian's legs. Bellam dropped. Stretching the staff between both hands like a rope, Gust slipped it over Bellam's head to choke him. Bellam's fingers clawed at the staff, but his face quickly glowed crimson.

Gust smiled toward Ariel and Zeke, frozen on opposite sides of the cave mouth. He stood between them and freedom.

“That wasn't much trouble at all,” Gust said.

“No,” someone agreed.

Ariel whirled. Slightly farther back in the cave stood one of Gust's Finders, who had failed to grab her. Derr slumped at his feet. Somehow the man had slipped in behind them.

Flapping his arms weakly, Bellam choked, “Run.”

“Only if you want to give these old men more pain,” Gust told Ariel. “If you're smart, you'll just sit. I don't want to kill any old men, and I won't—if
you
don't.”

Ariel teetered on the balls of her feet. She couldn't see a clear path to slip past him.

Zeke cautiously lowered himself to one knee. His frame remained taut. Ariel had seen him win enough footraces to believe he could still burst free. But she wasn't nearly so speedy. Even if they bolted together, not more than one of them would escape.

To gain time, she mimicked Zeke's stance.

“Good. You see, I'm not the killer your friend Scarl is.” A
gurgle of pain squeezed through Bellam's pinched throat. Ariel winced. “Not yet, at least,” Gust added. “Matthias?”

The Finder hauled Scarl's grandfather to his feet. Derr's eyes rolled, and relief trickled through Ariel's terror. Groggy, the Storian couldn't stand on his own, but he clearly fought to gather his wits. His captor dragged him between Ariel and Zeke to the front of the cave, joining Gust. Together the men blocked the entrance completely.

Ariel considered a dash back into the dark. If they hid, would Gust search? Or simply wait until thirst did his work?

“Pray to any god you like, boy, it won't matter.” Gust sneered. Ariel stole a glance at Zeke. His eyes were on the stone over their heads. His lips moved.

“Tie up these geezers,” Gust ordered his companion. To Ariel and Zeke, he added, “I had a gift for the two of you. Perhaps we'll give it to your friends instead, shall we?”

His sarcasm drew a curtain in Ariel's head, veiling her terror and shock. Only hatred and instincts for survival were left in front of that drape. She watched coldly as Matthias bound first Derr and then Bellam. Gust drew a jar from one pocket of his coat.

“If you'll come closer, you'll have a better view,” he suggested. “We picked up a few pets in the Drymere.”

A rattling sound crossed to Ariel's ears. Goose bumps rose under her clothes. She could guess what squirmed in the jar—the ugly brown creature that had skittered toward them when she and Zeke had lain buried in sand.

She found her voice simply to slow down the chaos. “What is it?”

“Scorpions.”

“No, thank you. I don't want a pet.”

“I insist. I don't make a habit of repeating mistakes. But your pets don't enjoy their jar, I'm afraid. If we let them loose—say, into a collar—they're likely to sting.”