Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) (16 page)

Pitts hopped off the bridge and landed with a whoosh on the far side. I swam through the draw. Romulus and Ernie were already there, splashing toward the tree to grasp its trunk again. To make better speed Pitts let his roots drift downstream. I resumed pushing with all my beavery might. By the time the reinforcements arrived at mid-bridge, we’d lost ourselves in the river’s gloom. To anyone else who might spy us we’d just be a fallen tree floating along, all innocent and natural.

Arlington Heights disappeared to our right rear. The cannon and musket fire had riled up some of the bastions up there, but no one shot at us. Either word hadn’t got out to all the troops across the Potomac, or the Merchantry didn’t command as many of them as I feared. I felt dead certain, though, that enemy telegraph signals were flying thick and fast ahead of us. No doubt more trouble waited for us at Alexandria.

“Won’t they just wire ahead and order more soldiers to go for us?” I asked Ernie, who stood on a limb drying himself with a leaf.

“They would if they could, matey” said Roberta, landing heavy behind the soggy mouse. “But it seems that all the telegraph wires goin’ south have fallen down.” She spit a piece of frayed black cable out of her beak. “Savvy?”

Okay, I need to remember that I’m travelin’ with trained professionals.
“I savvy. Good work, ma’am.”

The scarlet parrot chortled. “Ma’am! Ain’t you the well-brought-up child.”

“Well, I am the bright shinin’ hope of the free world,” I said with a grin, believing none of it.

“Hah!” grumped Pitts. A flexing knothole seemed to be serving as his mouth, but I still couldn’t spot anything like eyes to see with.
Guess it wouldn’t be magick otherwise.

“Where exactly do we aim to cross over?” I wanted to know.

“Need to get to Confederate territory,” Ernie answered. “Beyond the Yankee emplacements. Once we get past Alexandria it won’t be far. More unguarded shoreline there.”

Roberta nodded while using a toe to clean bits of cable from her beak. “Jeff Davis has stripped near every one of his troops out o’ northern Virginia. They’re all ‘round Richmond now, tryin’ to hold off McClellan. Stonewall Jackson’s moved out o’ the Valley, too. Guess he got tired o’ sailin’ circles around Banks and Fremont. If he’s at Richmond a Rebel attack can’t be far off.”

“That means we should have an easy time of it,” said Ernie. “From here to Richmond should be mostly empty, if we choose our route with care.”

“But then,” Romulus pointed out, “we gots to find ourselves a way through--or ‘round—two armies.”

“I’ll fly over and wait for ya, shipmates,” snickered Roberta.

Ernie took her glasses off of her face. He looked around for something dry to clean them with, then gave up and perched them back on her beak. “Maybe I’ll go with her.”

“Y’all’s doin’ me a load o’ good,” complained Romulus.

“Me, neither,” I said. “If I stayed like this I could maybe swim around the Peninsula, but I guess I’m gonna change back soon. Fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe.”

Ernie climbed onto my furry head. “Don’t worry. Ol’ Ernie has a few tricks up his sleeve yet.”

I dug my claws into Pitts’ hide with a muttered apology and climbed aboard. Now that no one took notice of us I didn’t need to push, speed not being so essential. The tree steered himself and we made good time just going with the Potomac’s current. With the cool night breeze and easy gliding action of the river we could’ve been on a calm pleasure cruise.
Of course, havin’ monsters and sorcerers trying to kill you does bleed a bit of the bliss out of the thing.

Alexandria slid into sight on our right. It looked to be a good sized place, but a lot smaller than Washington. Most of its citizens were Union soldiers, the local populace having fled last year. A few loyalists remained, along with those who didn’t care to take sides one way or the other. Lots of spies and Merchantry men, too, no doubt. None of that was visible at one in the morning. No lights to speak of, not even in Fort Ward, the big bastion built last year to defend the approach to the capital. All dead quiet. We floated past the town with not so much as an unkind word directed at us. After all we’d been through in the past few hours, I could hardly believe it.

A couple of miles past Alexandria brought us to a wide and empty patch of weeds on the southern side. I slid back into the water and helped to maneuver the tree into the shallow spot. Roberta flew up over the shore for a mile in every direction. Reporting back, she assured us that all was clear and we could safely leave the river for solid ground. Pitts rolled over, stood with much creaking and complaining, and waded to the bank. Romulus, with Ernie in his pocket, got ashore on all fours and shook himself dry. I followed and did the same. Then I stood up and peered about with my witched eyes, sure that I now qualified as the largest rodent in the Confederate States of America.

I was in Virginia.

Enemy territory.

13/ A Brief Rest

Roberta made a rude sound from somewhere amidst Pitts’ foliage. “Aw, bosoms ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, missy. More trouble than they’re worth, most days.”

Enemy territory? Can’t be any worse than my own house and neighborhood have been today. Not much peace, love, and joy since this afternoon.

My first act on Southern soil was to collapse on the grass. Small wonder, what with shape-shifting, swimming the Potomac, pushing a tree through the water, getting shot at with muskets and cannon, and burning up any reserves of energy I might’ve had after fighting and fleeing various impossible monsters. Those reserves chose that moment to get used up. I flopped face-down and lay there as if some mage had tripled the Earth’s gravity. At that moment I believed it be perfectly possible.

Crickets chirped all around us. Far off an owl hooted. Something burrowed beneath us, maybe a mole or groundhog. How many of them were like Romulus, humans magicked into animal forms against their will? Had I been in carriages pulled by former schoolmasters? Was last week’s beef dinner a case of cannibalizing a curator? Did we trap rats at Ford’s that had once been laundresses? If I’d had the strength I might’ve shivered at the thought.

Romulus threw me up over his shoulder and hauled me into a clump of trees, yet set me down as if I were a treasured soap bubble. Warm but soothing canteen water went down my throat. The Marshal acted like he took care of five-foot-tall beavers every day. Heck, maybe he did, for all I knew about him. Perhaps they had a secret Marshal school that the Equity ran in Marrakech or Timbuktu or Atlantis or wherever. Ernie and Romulus might’ve been thoroughly trained in ‘Enormous Rodent Hydration’. ‘Bully-Slaying’ and ‘Talking Tree Recruitment’ seemed to have been on their curriculum, too.

“I feel awful,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. It occurred to me that he wasn’t just saying that, if Ernie had told the truth.

“How long has it been…since…?”
Just how do you bring up the subject of when somebody had been magickally transformed from a dog into a slave? It’d never been covered at my school.

“Oh, ‘bout a year, I reckon.” He fed me some bread and an apple from my haversack. “Seems like fifty.”

“Is it hard? Bein’ human?” My skin started to jerk on my bones. Soon I’d be human myself, and I had an idea that it’d be just as raw a change as the first one had been, an hour before.

“Most days. Can’t smell nothin’, can’t hear nothin’. Back hurts from walkin’ on half my legs.”

“Sounds like my Granny, complainin’ about her lumbago. She told me to never get old.”

“You took her advice without meanin’ to.”

“Huh?” Now my bones began to jerk under my skin. That felt worse. It wouldn’t be long now.

“The Stone-Warden don’t feel the bite o’ time, they say.”

It struck me that finding out what that contract had committed me to would’ve been smart of me. “You mean I’m stuck bein’ twelve years old, forever?”

“Not forever. Just till your quest’s done.”

“And if it takes thirty years?” My stomach heaved. Whether from the shape-shift starting or the idea that I’d stay a kid till I hit fifty, I couldn’t be sure.

Ernie ran up Romulus’ shirt and clung to his shoulder. “Then you’ll have the best complexion of any matron on earth.”

“And the smallest bosom,” I pouted.

Roberta made a rude sound from somewhere amidst Pitts’ foliage. “Aw, bosoms ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, missy. More trouble than they’re worth, most days. Why, I once had a corset that fit so---“

Much as I wanted to hear about Roberta’s unmentionables, and how or why a parrot might wear them, my body had other ideas. The spell ended at that instant. I felt like I tumbled down a mineshaft full of spiders and straight razors. Dizzy and nauseous, I arched my back so hard that nothing but my head and heels stayed on the ground. Spit bubbled out of my mouth. I heard a faraway scream that got louder and louder, till it filled my whole aching, spinning head.

It was Jasper’s voice.

“Boy, oh boy! Nothin’ smells worse than wet fur! Get a whiff of you. Whoo!”

I looked at my paws. I felt them, rubbed them. Skin. Good old freckled Verity flesh, all pruned from being in the river so long. Romulus held up his mirror. My pug nose and blue eyes were there. Reaching behind me, I tried to grab the beaver’s tail, but it had melted away with my buck teeth. I was back in all my glory.

Jasper still blabbed. “Did you have to swim through every bit of fish poo in the river? The Canal and the outhouse episodes were bad enough, you know.”

“I just kinda figured you for an expert by that point,” I said aloud.

“Say what?” asked Ernie, with a puzzled frown.

I tapped my noggin. “Jasper. He’s back.”

“And better than ever!” the voice of Morphageus announced.

Switching to internal conversation, I told him, “You know, you were only gone an hour.”

“But what an hour it was! Giant beavers, talkin’ trees, gunplay, swimmin’ the mighty Potomac—without a paddle, I might add---”

“Hey, we had my tail. I thought it was pretty sharp work for a beginner.”

“I stand corrected.” With that the steel collar around my neck hopped off. My sword landed in front of me, hilt-up, its blade split into a pair of bare metallic feet. Jasper bowed to me. “Well done, Stone-Warden.”

I nodded back. “Thank you very much. Next time give a girl some warnin’ before you transmogrify her bones.”

“Can’t promise anything. Circumstances may dictate another snappy response. But we’ll try to develop proper teamwork.” Morphageus sprang into my hand, its blade whole again. I slid it into the scabbard.

Roberta looked down her beak at me. “What’s the plan now?”

“She needs to rest before we can take another step,” said Ernie. “This is as good a spot as any.” He waved his needle at Romulus. “Can you make us a hidey-hole?”

“Sho’ nuff,” the big Warden replied, standing wide-legged and flexing his huge arms. “Stand back.”

His broad strong hands blurred as he started digging between his feet like the dog he’d once been. Grass, dirt, and rocks showered behind him. In five minutes he’d made a hole deep and wide enough to hold him and me. No normal person could’ve done that, not even with a pick and shovel.
Okay, one more amazin’ thing for my evenin’.
We snuggled down inside it after scattering the removed dirt so as not to call attention to our hiding place. Ernie jumped in last, curling up on my neck next to the Stone.

“Roberta, give us a holler if anybody suspicious comes nosin’ about,” he said to our parrot ally.

“Aye-aye,” she answered, saluting with one blue-tipped wing. “I’ll keep a weather eye out for enemy sails on the horizon.”

The peach tree ambled toward us. “And I’ll guard you all, too. It’ll take a keener eye than most to spot you.” All the stars disappeared as Pitts settled atop us, his roots spreading over most of the hole and wriggling into the earth. To any observers we were just one fruit tree amidst a clump of others.

“When should we wake you?” asked Roberta. “When the sun peeks over the yardarm?”

“Not ‘less trouble come,” said Romulus. “Otherwise, let her sleep till sunset if need be.”

That proved to be a wise decision. I didn’t open my eyes till late afternoon.

* * * * *

Peeling open one gummy eyelid, I squinted at the single ray of dim sunlight that managed to slip between Pitts’ roots. No sound could be heard, even with my magick ears, except for the dull rush of the Potomac a hundred yards away.
Well, that’s a blessin’.
What I could hear, loud as a trumpet, was the call of nature.
Time to move.

I took care to uncurl my legs, not wanting to wake Romulus or Ernie. They’d had a hard night, too.
Hmm.Not to worry. They ain’t here.
It looked like they’d been the ones to take care not to wake their fellow sleeper.

Pitts moved his ‘feet’ a bit to let me out. Standing stiff and sore in the midsummer sun, feeling older than the Blue Ridge Mountains to our west, I shaded my sleepy eyes. There was no one in sight, friend or foe. But now I could hear low voices from the other side of the ridge behind me. Not only that, I also smelled frying fish.
Food. Oh boy!
Last night’s bread and water had been a life-saver, but my belly now screamed that it wanted filling on a more regular basis than every sixteen hours. Trotting up the rise, I shrank Morphageus back into a tin cup so the sword wouldn’t bounce on my hip and maybe trip me. Nothing like a humiliating crash onto your snoot to ruin your reputation as the savior of world freedom.

The feast lay just over the ridge, in a cluster of high bushes, out of sight of anyone patrolling the river. A pit full of coals gave off much heat but little smoke. Romulus had found an old frying pan someplace and four fat fish sizzled on it. Ernie lay on a log, next to Roberta. Neither of them showed any interest in what sizzled in the pan. The little Marshal chewed on something grey and awful-looking; the red parrot just yawned. While my mouth watered at the prospect of an honest-to-goodness meal, my recent experiences made me wary.