The Last Stand of Daronwy (26 page)

Jeremy glanced over his shoulder at the thicket on the other side of Dry Creek. Everything remained still. He stole across the deadfall as fast and silent as he could, stalking the voices. He angled his way toward the ragged edge of the destruction, but kept within the bramble's choked confusion of invisibility. A footfall crunched near him. He froze.

“You don't know where that property line is?”

“No, but what does it matter, really?”

Jeremy crawled on his stomach beneath the confused tangle to get a better look. The two men stood with their backs to him. One of them wore a suit, the other jeans and a cowboy button-up shirt, with a stained, felt Stetson on his head.

“You gotta know where that property line is. You can't just come in here and bulldoze somebody else's land,” said the Cowboy.

“I think I'd be doing them a favor,” said the Suit.

“
Mais
yeah, that might be, but you still got to respect that line. You don't want no lawsuit.”

“That's true.” The Suit sighed. “How soon can you get a survey team out here?”

“Later this week, maybe early next. Depends.” The Cowboy spat on the ground, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops.

“Do it. The sooner this is all cleared, the better. It's taking too long. The contractors wanted to start last month. Now, they'll have to wait until after Christmas.”

“I don't think you understand how thick this stuff is.” The Cowboy gestured with his thumb at Helter Skelter. Jeremy squirmed back into the shadows in case they turned around. The suited man did turn. He was balding, his belly protruded slightly over his pressed slacks. He kept his eyes high and did not see Jeremy flattened against the ground beneath the bulldozed jumble of limbs and vines. Skin hung down off his jaw into a second chin. His hair was black with flecks of gray.

He turned back to his cowboy friend. “I don't care, I just want it done. It is an impediment to progress.”

“What about that tar pit?”

“What about it? I told you to bury it.”

“
Mais
yeah
,
you said you'd talk to the mayor… ”

“He'll be fine with it. Bury it.” The suited man gave one last glance at the woods and started walking away across the churned, stump-ridden ground. “We need all these stumps out of here, too. No one is going to buy this land if it has stumps on it.”

“Yes, sir, that's part of the plan. You watching Dallas play today?”

The suited man responded, but they were soon out of earshot.

Jeremy watched them leave. The suited man's eyes shared the same ravenous greed as the ogre's.
Ogres
… Jeremy shivered again. He remembered Daniel lying on the ground.
Daniel!
Jeremy sprinted from his hiding place, through the destruction, crossing into the untouched parts of Twin Hills. He ran along the trails to Nevada Street and up Daniel's drive into his garage. He beat on the kitchen door with both his fists. Daniel opened it. Jeremy walked in before he could say anything, putting his hands on Daniel's shoulders and staring into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Are you?” Daniel's eyes flicked up and down.

Jeremy realized his soaked, tattered clothes were dripping on the floor. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look awful.”

Mrs. McClain came into the kitchen. “Jeremy, sweet Jesus! What happened? Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” They ushered him into the bathroom. “What happened to you, son? Here, take off your shirt so we can clean you up.”

When he looked at himself in the mirror his mouth fell open. Twigs matted through his hair, a bruise formed on his temple, an angry red scratch scrawled down his cheek. As he lifted his shirt, pain spasmed through his back. Mrs. McClain gasped, “Oh goodness, does your back hurt?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Jeremy found Daniel's eyes in the mirror, and his friend's eyes said enough.

Jeremy remembered the gorilla's claws silhouetted against the sky and shuddered.

“You have big welts all the way down your back. Here, let's wash this up; it might sting a little. Daniel, go get him a blanket, he's cold. Jeremy, tell me what happened.”

Jeremy bent forward, white-knuckled hands gripping the sink as she cleaned the cuts on his back. Had it all been real?
Really
real? He looked at the bloody knuckles on his left hand. He could still hear the echoes of the green-haired man's voice. What did it mean? What could he tell Mrs. McClain? He knew he shouldn't lie, but he also couldn't just tell her that he'd crossed over.

“I… um… had a dream in the woods… and in the dream I was looking for Daniel, and so I ran over here to make sure he was all right.” He would tell Daniel the rest later. Mrs. McClain worked quickly. In a few moments she was on the phone with his parents, his tattered clothes were in the wash, and he was sitting in Daniel's room, wearing Daniel's clothes.

Daniel came in with two mugs of steaming, milky coffee. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy pulled the dinosaur blanket closer around his shoulders. “Close your door. Let me tell you what really happened.”

Daniel looked from Jeremy to the door then closed it. He sat down on the floor next to Jeremy.

“First, it wasn't a dream. I actually crossed over.”

“What?”

“Listen…” Jeremy told him the story, then told him about seeing the Suit and the Cowboy.

Daniel held his coffee with both hands, staring wide-eyed as Jeremy finished. “The cuts on your back, the bruises on your face… you mean it really happened?”

Jeremy nodded, shivering so hard he almost spilled the coffee.

“What… what do you think it means?”

Jeremy took a sip of the coffee, set it down, and pulled the blanket tighter around him. “I don't know.”

“Was the man-thing Kronshar?”

Jeremy frowned. “No, I don't think so. He wasn't evil. The ogres… they were evil. But he… he was just… I don't know. Sort of in-between, I guess.”

“Why was I dead?”

“I dunno.” Jeremy looked down, then reached across and pushed his friend's shoulder, catching Daniel's eye. “I'm glad you're okay.”

Daniel smiled. “Me too.” Daniel thought a moment. “Do you think this means we need to use the ultimate power to defeat Kronshar? Like you were saying? I just don't want Eaglewing and Lightningbolt to die.”

“They wouldn't exactly die.” Jeremy took another sip of the coffee, holding the cup with both hands, sighing. They had already been through this argument. “Eaglewing and Lightningbolt would be gone. But it'd also be a new beginning. Everything would change. You could finally change their names, like you were talking about a while ago.”

“Skyhawk and Skybolt.” Daniel smiled.

Jeremy nodded, staring at the floor. It didn't answer the real question, though. Why had he finally crossed over? And why was that world dying? It didn't have anything to do with Kronshar or Eaglewing or Lightningbolt. Maybe Daniel didn't understand. He had really,
actually
, crossed over. And that world was in trouble, just like this one. The thought made him shiver again. They were silent for a long moment, taking turns slurping coffeemilk. Was that world just one more thing he couldn't save? Jeremy sighed into his mug.

“Are you going to be okay?” Daniel asked.

“I think so. I have to figure out what it means. And what the green-haired creature was—is.”

Mrs. McClain knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Jeremy, your parents just called back. They need you to head home for supper. You can just wear Daniel's stuff and get it back to us this weekend. Okay, honey?”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Two questions were scrawled across the top of the blue-lined notebook paper. Jeremy stared at them, pencil in hand, but no answer presented itself.

Why am I here? What do I believe?

The sun had just set. He and Sy hadn't finished filling in the trenches tonight; he'd have to go back in the morning. He could pull up those ribbon-topped stakes that had sprung up near the remains of Helter Skelter and use them to dam the last trench. Hopefully, not much of the pond would drain overnight.

Jeremy stared at the piece of paper. Twenty-five blank lines stared back.
What do I believe?

I believe in filling the trenches. I believe they can't drain the pond. And if they drain the pond, they will kill Twin Hills. I believe that they can't kill Twin Hills, and that we won't let them. I believe that we have to stop them because no one else cares. I believe that school is a waste of time and that Father Pat was a saint. I believe I might be chosen. But I don't know what that means. And I wish God would tell me what to do. And I wish my back would stop hurting.

An involuntary chill shuddered through him, starting with the gashes on his back and emanating outward. He read over the page and wrote:
I wish Father Pat would come back
.

His mom appeared at the open door. “Hi, Jeremy. Are you doing homework?”

“No, ma'am. I've already done it.”

She walked in and sat on the bed. “You didn't have too much tonight?”

“No, ma'am.”

“How are you feeling?”

Jeremy sighed, turned the paper over, and let his gaze drift to the floor. “I'm okay.”

“You haven't asked to go over to Daniel's in four days, and your teacher called to tell me that you're not reading in class anymore. She says you just look out the window.”

“Well, she didn't want me to bring
The Two Towers
, remember? She probably won't let me bring
Return of the King
either, so what else is there to do?”

“You just fell into that creek in the woods? You sure there's not something else you need to tell me?”

Jeremy stared out the window and shook his head.

His mom sighed. “Are you still sad about Father Pat?”

Jeremy nodded.

“You know, if he were here right now, he'd tell you that you have to remember he's in Heaven, he's very happy, and he wants you to be happy too.” She paused, waiting for his response. “Why don't you call Daniel and see if he wants to spend the night tonight?”

“I don't know.”

“Jeremy, I think it will make you feel better. Rosalyn has gone next door to spend the night at the Leblancs'. I'll make some chocolate chip cookies and you and Daniel can watch
Star Wars
again on the video player.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Okay.”

“Come on, come to the kitchen and give him a call.” She led him by the hand to the phone in the kitchen.

Daniel came over. They ate chocolate chip cookies and they watched both
Star Wars
and
The Empire Strikes Back
before going to bed. Jeremy lay in bed, still thinking about the answers to the questions on the paper. Eventually, he fell asleep dreaming of sitting on the altar steps and talking with Father Pat, but couldn't remember anything they'd said when he woke up.

In the morning, before the dew lifted, Jeremy and Daniel were in Twin Hills. Jeremy led Daniel through the field of stakes with florescent strips of plastic stapled to them.

“What do you think these are for?”

“I dunno,” said Daniel. “Do you want to pretend that Kronshar—”

“No. I want to pull these out and finish the trench Sy and I started yesterday. Pull that row.” As he worked, Jeremy glanced at his friend. “What do you believe?”

“What do you mean, believe? Like God and stuff?”

Jeremy shrugged, arms full of stakes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I believe in God and Jesus and all that stuff in church. You know, the Bible and all those stories. Why are you asking?”

“I was just thinking about the other world again when I went to sleep. And I wondered what I did believe in, and what I didn't believe in that I was supposed to, you know?”

“Can you show me the mound?”

“If they didn't bulldoze it.” He led Daniel to it. Even though it had been a week, Jeremy could still see the remnants of his tangled footprints entering and leaving it. “It was here.” The wounds on his back tingled like icy spiders walking along his spine.

Daniel looked through the woods, circling the mound. “You're right; there's no sign of it or your jacket.”

“I know.” The uncomfortable tingling increased. “Let's go fill in this last trench, come on.”

Jeremy led Daniel across the tortured land to the intact area of Twin Hills that surrounded the pond. He dropped his armload of stakes next to the trench.

Daniel said, “Looks like we should break them. What about you? You believe in the Bible and all that?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Jeremy glanced in the direction of the Tree's thicket. “But I think the green-haired man meant something else. Put those there. Yeah, wedge them in. I'll use this one for a shovel.”

In a few minutes, the trench had vanished.

“So, Kronshar?” said Daniel. There were no other trenches to fill in. No pyres of smoldering tree trunks to smother with water. Nothing else he could do right now to save Twin Hills. Jeremy nodded, letting Daniel continue. “Then let's play that we're in the castle. We've come up from that long corridor and we're in the inner castle. We have to get to the big square pyramid with no top that Kronshar lives in.”

Jeremy tried to rub the gashes on his back, to ease the aching cold that spread from them. If he believed, he would find some way to truly save Twin Hills. Somehow, he had to stop the bulldozers.

“Jeremy?”

“Sorry. We're in Kronshar's castle?”

“Yeah. We have to get to his pyramid.”

“Let's say that we're at the edge of the inner wall.”

Daniel crossed his arms. “Wait, how'd we get there? We were in the sewers last time. We'd have to fight someone, right?”

“No, come on.” Jeremy pantomimed sneaking through a city, darting from tree to tree. “They just crept through the city before anyone was awake, slept in an unused stable. They haven't been noticed yet.”

“Even with the Stones?”

“Kronshar's been busy. He's been watching Niritan in the rift valley.”

“Wait, what?”

“Trust me. We're at the inner wall.”

Daniel crossed his arms. “Okay. But when we fly over the inner wall the guards will see us.”

Jeremy sprinted through the Mini Desert, brandishing a survey stake for a sword. “They're charging across the plaza. Be quick, be quiet, Lightningbolt!”

Daniel scooped up an unbroken stake and charged into the imaginary fray. They sang out the sound effects of steel on steel, their voices ringing through the dewy mist of Twin Hills. They raced through the remaining trails of Helter Skelter, then across the gnawed wasteland, darting among the piles of blackened trees. The avenues of Kronshar's keep were empty at this hour. Flowering gardens overflowed above the stone walls and streams burbled through large courtyards.

“I never thought it'd be this beautiful,” said Kavarine.

Circling the pond, they stopped before the twin hills. “It's a large stair-step pyramid, with a long white building on top. Guards are pouring out of the building, running down the steps. They know we're here.”

Jeremy nodded. “Let's fly to the second story and land on that balcony.”

“I'm going to summon Niritan.”

“Not yet,” hissed Naranthor. “Hurry. We have to get closer.”

Eaglewing and Lightningbolt exchanged a glance, but followed Naranthor into the building. He led them to another balcony overlooking an interior courtyard. A brilliant white hall of spires and turrets dominated the open space. Before its heavy wooden door, a line of wizards formed, staffs ready. Guards patrolled the balcony. The adepts hid in an alcove, trying to focus their energy.

“This is it,” said Kavarine.

“We need to summon Niritan.”

“Do it now,” Naranthor said, looking from marching guard to marching guard. In a moment, one would cross their alcove.

Eaglewing slipped a long dagger from his boot, raising a finger to his lips. Lightningbolt crouched in the back of the crowded space, eyes half closed, muttering words of the spell to summon Niritan.

Clip-clop, clip-clop
. The guard's steps drew closer.

Eyes squeezed shut, Lightningbolt concentrated on the spell.

Eaglewing's hand began to sweat around the dagger in his fist. The guard stepped past the alcove and flinched, blinking at the crowd of adepts. Eaglewing lunged. A blue-skinned arm flashed past first, exploding out of the alcove, through the railing of the balcony. Lightningbolt jumped next, showering the courtyard in electricity as he shot downward like an arrow. Eaglewing stumbled across the remnants of the charred marble and leapt into the courtyard after Niritan and Lightningbolt. The courtyard blazed into light and then plunged back into shadow. The plants and grasses smoked, the gleaming white stonework was encrusted with soot. The four adepts stood around the Edenkiri, who held a Red Stone. There were no longer any guards to be seen.

“You did it!” said Lightningbolt.

“Yes.”

“So much for the benefit of surprise,” grumbled Naranthor, glaring at the ruined courtyard.

“We took them quickly enough. Let's get that door down,” Kavarine said, holding her Stone before her as the door opened.

Eaglewing turned to her. “How did you open—” An explosion cut his question short. More wizards streamed into the courtyard.

“Into the building! And be ready!” shouted Naranthor, working shields behind them as they ran into the open maw of the white palace.

Once inside, the doors swung shut, locking into place with iron bars. The adepts stood in a shadowed hall where smoky light fell in long shafts from high windows. Buttressed columns ran up the pitched roof, and in the center stood six wizards, all but one holding a Stone. Kronshar held the Red Stone and the crimson light made him look even more gaunt. Niritan threw Eaglewing a blue Stone, and the adepts walked to face Kronshar in a line, each holding a Stone.

“We meet again,” said Kronshar. An electric hum sizzled through the air. “A living, breathing Edenkiri. I didn't believe you existed until we met in the mountains.”

“You are making a mistake if you believe that you can control the demons with the Stones of Karnak. We tried that two thousand years ago and failed,” Niritan said.

A wry smile played on Kronshar's face. “Demons? No, I only toyed with necromancy before I learned the power of the Stones. The Stones were always my goal. And now you have brought them to me. Including your new one.”

“You don't have them all.”

“No, but with your knowledge of how to create them, I can make the last two. Surely you know the number is significant, not the individual Stones?”

The obvious shock on Niritan's face crushed Eaglewing's confidence. Eaglewing felt hollow and fear crept through his body; they had lost before they'd even begun to fight.

Kronshar continued, “Eriankian, the Master of the Stones, died here after creating this Keystone.” Kronshar gestured to his Red Stone, a gloating smile played across his lips. “Deep in the back of the library was his scroll. It did not tell how to create a Stone. But, he did write about how to use them. And now that you're here, you can help me understand how to create them. I learned much watching you work in that volcano these last weeks, but there are still things I do not understand.”

Niritan's jaw dropped. “But, how could you? I warded these Stones against you.”

“You did. But one was undone,” Kronshar looked at Naranthor. “Thank you, Naranthor.”

The adept smiled and walked across the room with his Stone, taking a place in line with Kronshar's other wizards.

“Colonel Naranthor?” Lightningbolt gasped.

“How… how could you?” Kavarine shook her head.

Kronshar's voice rose. “Because he realizes what you do not: that your pithy council and your fragmented world are things of the past. You can escape that burden; you can have the true power you deserve. Join me, and the world is ours. That is what Colonel Naranthor has realized.” A chain rattled in the murk behind the wizards. The end of the chain floated to Naranthor. Kronshar nodded to him. “As agreed.”

The sixth figure that stood behind Kronshar's line appeared out of the shadows. The chain was bound to her foot. As she came close to Naranthor, she put her arms around him and looked over his shoulder. The blue glow of Naranthor's Stone shimmered in Mayflure's eyes.