Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) (42 page)

Naia feigned a big yawn as if this all struck her as terrible dull. “And Naia helps?”

“Just as your Stone magnifies your natural abilities, Naia increases my poetic force.”

I pointed to the moonstone pendant around her neck. “And what does that do?”

Tucking it away inside her robe, Sha’ira said, “This…will have to wait.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Tyrell muttered, looking past us, “something’s up.”

The Reb sergeant-major and Romulus jogged up to us. Neither of them looked bruised or bloody, so they must’ve reached an understanding during the grave digging. Romulus held his Bowie and the trooper gripped his saber.

“Trouble, sir,” said the Confederate. “There’s---who’s this?”

Tyrell seemed about to respond when we all saw that Sha’ira and Romulus had embraced. Stepping back and slapping his thick arms, she beamed and said, “I heard about this! Humanity suits you.”

My friend smiled back, almost blinding us with his pearly whites. I’d never seen that before. “I misses my sense o’ smell, and I be slower than molasses when I runs, but it’ll do. You looks better this way than in yo’ Shade suit, come to mention it.”

“You get the feelin’ were missin’ a chapter or two here?” asked Jasper.

“At least,” I said. We all stared at them, waiting for an explanation.

Getting a bit flustered, something else I’d never seen, Romulus cleared his throat, said “Long story,” and glanced at the sergeant-major to pick up where he’d left off.

“She’s here to help,” Tyrell told him. “What’s the trouble?”

“Yankee gunboat right off the beach. Or Merchantry ship masked as Yankee. Pitcairn’ll have a devil of a time gettin’ here, if he’s even comin’. Haven’t heard a peep outta him for a week.”

That reminded me that Roberta and Ernie were missing in action.
I hope they’re okay.

“We’ll have to get word to him to move the landing site farther up that peninsula,” said Tyrell. “Send a flyer on a roundabout route north. Have him hook around and tell the
Kiss
to meet us at Hog Island. They can’t come into the Bay to get to us.”

“We’re gonna all fly across the bay and make it to the far side of the peninsula?” the sergeant-major asked. “In broad daylight? Awful risky. Valkyries won’t like it.”

“Can’t be helped. No time to waste. We have to drop these folks off and get back to Richmond. Battle’s still goin’ on.”

“I’ll send Corporal George. His horse is the quickest and skims trees with the best of ‘em. That’ll make him hard to spot.”

“Good. Snap to it.”

We all moved toward the edge of the clearing. I felt glad to get away from the bone piles. While we walked I asked Sha’ira how she’d come to pass through the ostium today and where she’d come from.

“Iberion. I’ve been tracking your three Shades ever since I heard that the Guild had bargained for Pluto’s Bane. Morrigan’s cell had been hunting me, and not succeeding. Then a winged post-lizard came through the ostium at Granada. I didn’t hear what it told them, but they jumped through at once. I followed them. Sometimes you can sneak in on someone’s trail that way if the magick lingers. Dangerous, if you come out to close to them and they spot you. But they were in too big a hurry to be careful. We came out at the Jamestown portal. I even managed to hear them plan their route here. That’s how I could change your visions to try to warn you. That’s also how I know that soon they’ll come against you, bent on killing everyone now that you’re pinned against the sea. And they won’t be alone.”

“Can’t you take us through the ostium to another place?” I asked, glancing back at the bone piles with fresh concern.

“No, I barely made it through this time. My Guild aura is fading. Soon I won’t be able to use it myself.”

“Then a fight’s comin’?”

“Oh, yes. And I don’t like our chances.”

The sergeant-major hollered back to Tyrell, “Can’t do it, sir!”

“Why not?” the captain wanted to know.

“Raven scouts cruisin’ the bay. Can’t sneak past. They’ve got us cornered.”

Tyrell kicked at a clump of weeds. “Damn! Now what?”

“Gotta go back, I guess. Sea’s blocked.”

I grabbed Sha’ira’s wrist. “Think you can do it? Get a message to Pitcairn?”

She looked doubtful. “It takes much concentration to maintain the trance. I won’t be able to help fight if the Shades come. Or if the Merchantry sends any of their people.”

“We’ll handle that. How long will you need?”

“It requires much mental preparation beforehand, and aura-cleansing. Then at least an hour after I write each verse. Maybe more.”

I stared at the ostium, surrounded by the bones of the innocent dead.
Sure don’t want to end up like that. But I’m tired of runnin’. Tired of bein’ chased all over, never havin’ any breathin’ space. Let’s turn around and bite the hunter, for once.

“Find yourself a sheltered space and get to it, then. I’ll write out what the message should say. It’ll have to be exact for this to work.” I watched her glide off to the right, into a cluster of thick bushes. Then I shifted to thoughts. “Jasper, I got an idea.”

“Yippee,” he yawned. “Let me get on the telegraph. Get it into today’s papers.”

“Hey, you’ll like this. It’s diabolical.”

“Really?”

“It’s fiendish.”

“You’re speakin’ my language.”

“It’s almost certain to get us vaporized.”

“Oh. And you were doin’ so well there for a minute.”

I laid it all out for him, then did the same for Tyrell and Romulus. We all argued about it and adjusted some things, since they had more battle experience than me. But pretty soon the troopers were hard at work getting things ready. I scribbled the message for Sha’ira—several of them, actually—and let her start the chant that would lead to her trance. As I watched her lay out the soul pen and the dagger that’d provide the fresh blood to write with, I worried about how flimsy this whole thing looked. It depended on perfect timing and a lot of luck. Neither had been on our side much.

I figure Fortune owes us one. Here’s hopin’ she agrees.

32/ Pitcairn’s Flying Squadron

“We’ll make liver taste like chocolate.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You can do that?”

“Are you crazy? All the mages on earth couldn’t do that.”

We put Alcibiades to work eating grass. He was there to watch the ostium and give a great big whinny if something came through, but Al had no problem lunching while he worked. All eleven of the horses wore their wings, feathers fluttering in the fresh breeze coming in off the ocean. They’d been stationed all around us as sentries. Tyrell told me that Norn mounts could fight without riders if they had to, so splitting them off doubled our force. The troopers, down to shirtsleeves or bare torsos, dug shallow trenches for cover with shovels, small hand picks, bayonets, and even a frying pan or two. Since we figured the ostium would be where the worst attack might come, the ditches faced that direction, to the west. But another trench line had been put in behind these, at the edge of the woods and facing the white sand beach, in case of an amphibious landing from the Yankee ship. To guard against a flanking movement, a third set of defensive works looked to the north. Small trees were felled with the help of Morphageus (Jasper complaining to me the whole time that he was a fearsome engine of destruction, not a household tool) and put up as breastworks with dirt and small boulders. We didn’t worry much about the south. If Tyrell’s old chum brought all three thousand of his infantrymen we couldn’t stop them anyhow. Our true enemies would avoid coming from that direction for the same reason.

Wherever they might start from, they’d have to cross open ground to get to us. The small clearing we’d first landed in that morning would be covered by interlocking carbine and pistol fire, and the same held true for the wide flat beach. Three of the Rebs had managed to pick up Sharp’s breechloaders from luckless Yankees they’d dispatched. Those new guns allowed their users to load quicker than with a regular musket, and from a prone position. They’d be bad news for anyone coming at us across that bare clearing. It seemed obvious that an assault from the sea would involve trudging through ankle-deep sand. To provide the same sort of disadvantage in the other direction, I turned my sword into a farmer’s plow and used one of the Valkyrie horses to turn up the marshy turf of the clearing (even worse complaining from Jasper about that). Though it’d look solid from a distance, anybody trying to race through it would find their feet sucked up in sloppy mud. They’d be easy targets for Reb bullets while they tried to get loose.
Of course, that’s assumin’ that whatever comes at us even has feet.

That left the north. Not much open ground there, just woods. If we took a charge from that way, it’d get broken up by the trees. I’d thinned it out by cutting a few down for breastworks, so we wouldn’t be surprised by a force arriving there. But they could still use what trees remained as cover and concealment. Lucky for us Tyrell had some Old Army veterans who’d been with General Lee’s Second Cavalry Regiment out West, before the war split it up. Those fellows had learned a thing or two about ambush and deathtraps from the Injuns. With my and Jasper’s help they’d set up some surprises for whoever might come calling that way. Just for good measure, we added some of those to the woods all over our battle zone, especially near the ostium.

While all the military preparations proceeded Sha’ira did her own work. Off in her thicket, out of sight of anyone but still within range of my witched ears and nose, she chanted in her own language and burned some sort of exotic oils and herbs. The reformed Shade had told me that she’d rewrite my messages in her own blood with the soul pen, aided by Naia’s magick. If all went well, when she tore the papers into tiny pieces and threw them into a fire surrounded by a circle, visions would appear in a flash to those we’d addressed the letters to. Whether those folks would respond to the images or just shake it all off as daydreams was anybody’s guess. She said she never knew how the visions would play in somebody’s head. They might be confused symbols in one person and crystal-clear literal messages in another.

We had several hours to do all of that because our enemies took their own sweet time arriving. Not that it upset us, of course. The more they waited, for dark or near-dark, the better our chances. Working feverishly, since our lives depended on it, the Rebs and I dug, chopped, tied, and otherwise readied ourselves for whatever might be thrown at us. All I knew was that it’d be weird, spooky, and disgusting.

“The Merchantry likes to attack at dusk,” Tyrell said, sharpening his saber. “Their fighters tend to be able to see better in the bad light than mortals. And then when the sun sets all the way they can throw in Bullies, dearth-demons, and all manner of unearthly things that can’t fight in daylight, or at k least not well. That tends to turn the tide in their favor.”

“Well, I can see in the dark like nobody’s business,” I assured him.

“So can the horses. Escorting the dead to the underworld’s not a noontime chore.”

Despite the Stone I still got tired after a long afternoon of digging in the summer sun, so I decided to rest my bones awhile by lying on the beach. Tyrell nixed my plan, saying I made too good a target that way. Ravens were patrolling. I still wanted to see the shore, so I hiked the few hundred yards east to take a look from the cover of the forest’s edge. Flopping in a cool spot beneath a pine tree, on a soft bed of needles, I took off my boots and socks. The ocean breeze, coming in pretty strong now from the east, felt good on my sweaty toes. Despite all of my dreams, there were no skulls on the beach, just white sand and driftwood. Gulls and pelicans by the score screeched and scuffled in the blue water and above it. That Yankee gunboat cruised in the far distance, just visible, sails furled but smoke from its steam engine smudging the horizon. No telling if its loyalty was to the Merchantry more than to the Federal government, but if Pitcairn’s ship got in its way that wouldn’t matter much. Our ride to Europa would take fire as a matter of course. Knowing that the pirate vessel ran the Union blockade on a regular basis, the profit margin being so great that it was worth the risk to smuggle supplies into the Confederacy, I guessed that the gunboat would feel justified in attacking.

The soft roar of the surf lulled me half asleep. I felt as if gravity had increased five-fold. My exhaustion wasn’t just from the day’s work, but from the whole week I’d spent on edge, fearing every minute might be my last. Just when I’d get used to one freakish thing happening, something worse would come along to rattle my brain even further.
Talkin’ swords that changed shape. Mice with Britannic accents. Monsters in alleys. Spooky children who can control your mind. Walkin’ piles of manure. Trees that swim. Purple fire from the pits of hell. Laughin’ ravens. Winged horsies. Not to mention bein’ turned into a giant beaver and a gorgeous older woman.
A wonder I hadn’t started drooling and giggling. Much more of this and they’d put me in a padded cell. Heck, I was just a regular kid from Maryland, not King Arthur. Well, okay, maybe not such a regular kid. Regular girls wore dresses and played with dolls and helped their mamas cook and clean. I played with swords and arm wrestled and memorized lists of battles and dressed like every boy in town, right down to my short hair. But nobody’d ever prepared me for what I went through now. It wasn’t fair. Then the sniffles started, turning into full-fledged wailing.

I just want Ma and Eddie back. That’s all! I wanna go back to Ford’s, back to school, even back to runnin’ from Horace and his plug-uglies. Back to what I’m used to. Let somebody else slay the monsters!

Before I knew it I found myself at the water’s edge, Stone untied from my neck, tears pouring down my dirty freckled face. My arm reared back to hurl the cursed thing into the sea. Then I’d walk north along the beach all the way to Washington if I had to. I’d march into the White House, tell Mr. Lincoln what really went on in his world, and let him fix the mess.