Jinx (29 page)

“The Bonemaster’s not here yet,” said Jinx, speaking in a whisper.

“Of course not. That potion will put him out for hours.”

They pushed the bags through the air. Now and then there was a
clank
from a bottle sliding against another, and each time Jinx froze and listened. Elfwyn had more confidence in their sleeping potion than he did.

The front door creaked too loudly. Outside, Jinx saw that the Bone Bridge had been neatly reattached to the stone posts. By Elfwyn, who had never done it before. Previously, it had been set up by the Bonemaster, who presumably knew just how to do it.

“You’ll be fine, Jinx. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I am not!”

They stood at the top of the bridge, and the four bags floated beside them. Simon was clenched tight in Jinx’s fist.

“I’m not afraid of heights,” said Jinx. “It’s only this cliff that makes me sort of nervous.”

“I’ll go first,” said Elfwyn. She reached for two of the bags.

“No, I’ll take them,” said Jinx.

“You can’t handle all of them.”

“Yeah I can. It’s not like they weigh anything.”

“Well, I’ll at least take Simon, then.” She took the green bottle out of Jinx’s hand. Then she turned around, gripped the ropes, and stepped backward onto the Bone Bridge. It swayed sickeningly from her movements as she started down.

It was Jinx’s turn to follow. He put one backpack on his back and strapped another to his chest. The levitating bags floated him slightly. He looped the remaining backpack over one arm and slung the gunnysack over his back.

Elfwyn was a quarter of the way down already, moving over nothing but bones and empty space. Jinx felt ill and looked away. Right. He could do this. He put a hand on one of the stone posts at the top of the bridge.

The front door of the castle creaked open.

At the same moment, Jinx felt the sudden weight of the bags—they were no longer floating. He turned around. The Bonemaster was coming down the castle steps.

“So.” The Bonemaster strode toward him. “Leaving without saying farewell?”

Jinx threw his arms out across the front of the bridge, barring the Bonemaster’s way. Jinx was far too close to the edge, and now he had his back to it. He could hear the clatter of bones as Elfwyn worked her way down, unaware of the danger.

“Out of my way, brat.” The Bonemaster seized Jinx by the shoulders and heaved him aside.

Jinx landed on his back and heard glass crunch under him. Waves of filmy smoke rose from his backpack and floated away in the air. The Bonemaster headed for the bridge. Jinx scrambled to his feet. He stumbled forward and grabbed the Bonemaster’s arm. The Bonemaster spun around and punched Jinx in the face. Jinx didn’t let go. He dragged the Bonemaster away from the bridge. They both fell to the ground.

Jinx dug his fingers in and held on to the Bonemaster as tightly as he could—the Bonemaster was still hitting him. Then Jinx couldn’t move—his clothes were frozen. He still didn’t let go of the Bonemaster. Then the Bonemaster grabbed Jinx’s hands and squeezed them till Jinx felt the bones crunch together. He yelled in pain and had to let go.

“Jinx! What’s wrong?” Elfwyn’s voice came from over the edge of the cliff.

“Run, Elfwyn!” Jinx yelled.

The Bonemaster scrambled up and made for the bridge. Jinx’s clothes stayed frozen even when the wizard looked away—he was able to do this spell better than Simon. Jinx heard the rattle of bones as Elfwyn climbed back up the bridge—could she see the Bonemaster yet? Did she know she was climbing right into his arms?

Jinx felt the Bonemaster drawing on the cold power in the bottles for whatever he was going to do to Elfwyn—kill her, probably. Bottle her life and take her bones.

Don’t let him do it
. The power in the bottles was telling him that. It reached out to Jinx, as it had before. Jinx grabbed the alive part of the dead-alive power and wrenched it away from the Bonemaster.

The power was less than it had been, because of the broken bottles. Jinx unfroze his clothes—the power showed him how—and got to his feet. He picked up the bag of bottles he’d dropped, and he swung it at the Bonemaster’s head.

The Bonemaster ducked, raised a hand toward Jinx, and drew on the power in the bottles again. Jinx drew it back, as hard as he could.

“You can’t take my power!” the Bonemaster cried.

“Can too.” But Jinx felt it slipping away as the Bonemaster pulled back.

Jinx fought for control of the power. The alive part tried to stay with him, but it was too closely bound to the dead part, and that part belonged to the Bonemaster. The power was slipping away from Jinx—he didn’t know enough, curse it. He didn’t have the Bonemaster’s experience, and he hadn’t even known a power struggle like this was possible. He pulled and pulled at the power, but it was like trying to get a firm grip on a slippery rope. The Bonemaster would have control in a minute, would use it against him, would get Elfwyn—

“Bonemaster!” Elfwyn had reached the top of the cliff. She came at him, her right fist swinging, her left hand clenched around bottled Simon.

The Bonemaster was distracted for a second, and the magic slid into Jinx’s control. Jinx scrambled to think what to do with the magic, quick, he had enough power to—what? He didn’t know, so he set the Bonemaster’s clothes on fire.

Except it was more fire than that. The air caught fire. The whole island was a roar of orange flame. Jinx heard the sizzling terror of the single gnarled hemlock that had never learned to talk. He couldn’t kill the tree. Or Elfwyn. He stopped the fire. It had lasted less than a second. At the same instant he felt a slithering jerk as the Bonemaster seized the cold power away from Jinx.

The wizard’s clothes were blackened, soot-stinking rags, and his hair and beard were frizzled. Behind him, Elfwyn looked singed and stunned.

Jinx could read his own death in the wizard’s eyes. The Bonemaster took a step toward Jinx, his hands raised to cast a spell. Jinx took a step backward.

“I don’t think that Simon is coming for you,” said the Bonemaster. “And with your life gone, you’re really not worth anything to me.”

“I’m useful cleaning up,” said Jinx.

“I think I’m tired of you.” The Bonemaster took another step forward, and Jinx took another step back.

Jinx still had one bag of bottles in his hand and one on his chest. The one on his back jingled with broken glass. He would swing the bag in his hands at the Bonemaster. In a second. It wouldn’t do much good, but he had to do it, because the Bonemaster was about to kill him.

He tried to draw on the power in the bottles but he couldn’t. The Bonemaster had a firm grip on it now. The only thing for Jinx to do was go down fighting. He clutched the bag tightly and took a big step backward so he could swing it freely.

A big step backward onto nothing.

J
inx plummeted. Wind rushed in his ears, and there was screaming—maybe Elfwyn’s, possibly his own.

He had the sensation of being punched very hard, all over his body at the same time.

It only hurt for a second, and then he was high in the air, not frightened at all. Hah, he wasn’t afraid of heights! Just of that cliff, and with good reason. Around him wisps of smoke streamed upward, one by one—lives escaping from the smashed bottles.

The Bone Bridge rattled—Elfwyn scrambled down it, followed much more slowly by the Bonemaster. Why didn’t he immobilize her? Jinx wondered. Then the dead lives drifting upward answered.

He can’t. We’re free
.

The Bonemaster’s power had escaped with the lives. Except for the part of his power that was in Simon, in the bottle in Elfwyn’s hand.

Reven was running toward the bridge—he must have wandered away, exploring. It probably hadn’t been a minute since the Bonemaster had first appeared at the castle door.

Elfwyn tripped and fell forward. She grabbed desperately at the bones of the bridge and dropped Simon’s bottle.

The bottle fell.

Elfwyn slid a few feet down the bridge and nearly went over the edge before she succeeded in stopping herself. She looked back—the Bonemaster was still coming. She got to her feet fast and kept climbing down. Jinx flew down and got in front of the Bonemaster, trying to stop him. The Bonemaster passed through him as if fighting his way through deep water. It gave Jinx a sick, ripply feeling.

Simon’s bottle was still falling. Jinx flew toward it, made a grab, and caught it. It tumbled slowly through his hands.

Reven, still running, put himself under the falling bottle of Simon and caught it. He stuck it in his pocket without looking at it. Elfwyn reached the bottom of the bridge, and Reven hurried over to her.

Jinx watched Elfwyn and Reven splash back across the stream and run to Jinx’s body—that was his body, wasn’t it? It was harder to see than it had been the time that Simon had killed him. It wasn’t shaped right.

Elfwyn was crying, and Reven was white in the face. Jinx felt bad about that. He wanted to tell them not to worry, he was right up here and he was fine, but when he tried to call out, he found he couldn’t make any noise. He sailed up higher and saw the river rushing between its stone banks. Two figures were running toward the Bonemaster’s island—one was running, rather, and the other hopping along in giant leaps.

Jinx drifted back down to warn Elfwyn and Reven that someone else was coming. Reven was just pulling his hands away from touching Jinx’s body. The Bonemaster was creeping down the Bone Bridge—slowly, backward, careful not to slide on the slippery rungs. Elfwyn and Reven needed to get out of there. And so did Jinx, but he didn’t see how he could when he was separated from his body like this.

“Run!” Jinx shouted—or tried to, but he didn’t make any noise.

Reven straightened up, putting his hands on his knees and leaving two crimson handprints on his breeches. He looked up at the Bonemaster, his eyes diamond cold.

“I’ll kill you, you evil scum,” he said, very calmly. He stood up and started toward the end of the bridge.

Was Reven going to climb the Bone Bridge and fight the Bonemaster in midair? That was certain to end badly. Jinx swooped down and spread his arms out to stop Reven. Reven walked through him. Jinx felt a ripply sensation, as if he were water turning into waves, forming a wake behind Reven.

“Reven, stop!” yelled Elfwyn.

Jinx tried to stop her too, though he knew now he could only slow her down. Elfwyn stepped into Jinx, then stopped exactly inside him. Jinx fluttered and burbled around her and couldn’t get himself organized. Everything that happened next came through as blurred, wavy images and voices speaking underwater.

Reven took the ax that was strapped to his back, swung it four times, and chopped through the ropes that held the Bone Bridge in place. The bridge came free, like a ghastly ribbon floating in the air, then smacked against the cliff. The Bonemaster hit the cliff hard but did not let go of the bridge.

Two people came charging up the shore, yelling.

“Jinx!” It was Simon. He sloshed across the shallow stream to where Jinx’s body lay on the stones.

With a mighty thump, Dame Glammer landed her butter churn and reached through the blurry waves of Jinx to grab Elfwyn. Dragging Elfwyn along beside her, she hopped over to where Simon knelt.

Now Jinx could see and hear clearly again. He drifted over to where everyone was gathered around his body, which, now that he saw it up close, was quite a mess.

Simon’s face was the color of parchment—probably he was still sick from his injury, Jinx thought.

“Not much to be done, I’m afraid,” said Dame Glammer.

Simon rounded on her. “You shut up! If you hadn’t sent him here—”

“Manners, Simon. Manners.” It was the Bonemaster who spoke. “Haven’t I always told you the importance of manners?”

He was clinging to the bridge, thirty feet over their heads. His arms were tightly wrapped around a thighbone. The bridge hung straight down the side of the cliff like a rope ladder.

“Shut up,” said Simon. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“I don’t know what you’re crying about,” said the Bonemaster. “You have the life bottled, don’t you? Though I must say I never thought you’d manage such an advanced spell, Simon.”

“Shut up.”

Simon didn’t look at the Bonemaster; he didn’t take his eyes off Jinx, which Jinx found embarrassing, as he wasn’t exactly looking his best. Jinx preferred to look at anybody but himself—Dame Glammer standing up in her butter churn, the Bonemaster hanging from his bridge, Elfwyn gazing at Simon as if she was trying to decide whether he was as evil as the Bonemaster, Reven with the ax in his hands, standing directly behind Simon—

Jinx tried to cry out as Reven raised the ax. No one heard him—except Dame Glammer, who looked up sharply.

Jinx flew forward and tried to knock Simon out of the way, but he ended up inside Simon, all wobbly and blurred. Looking out from the back of Simon’s head, Jinx watched helplessly as the glinting sharp ax blade descended.

Dame Glammer’s stick come down hard on Reven’s arms. The ax flew through the air and landed several yards away.