Master and Apprentice (31 page)

Ian grimaced. “Into the woods.” He started back the way we’d come up.

I followed without bothering to ask how he knew. The first whispers and spatters of rain came just before we plunged into the trees. Great. And I’d just gotten comfortably soggy.

“Shouldn’t we fly?” I said. “We’re not going to get very far this way.”

“No. We would be too visible.” Ian moved fast. He looked like he knew where he was headed, but I doubted that.

I glanced over my shoulder. Still didn’t see anyone chasing us. “Wait. We could use the stream, right? Reflective magic works with water.”

“Yes, with reflective water,” Ian said. “That stream moves far too quickly for the spell to take hold. We would need a calm surface.”

Tory passed me and matched Ian’s stride. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. “There’s a lot of them,” he said. “At least one full-blood, maybe two.”

“All right. Good to know. But do not scry any further.” Ian glanced back at me. “That goes for you as well, thief. Use no magic. They will sense it.”

“Right,” I said. Tory’s expression suggested he was just as happy about that as I was. “So what are we supposed to do—climb trees and hope they don’t look up?”

“It is dark and raining. If we put some distance between us, and do not use magic, they should not be able to find us. They do not have the senses of the wolf.”

He did have a point. Only I didn’t like the fact that he’d said
should not
instead of
will not.
“Maybe that’ll work, but we can’t keep wandering through the woods all night. We’ve got to rest for a while. I’m beat, and I know you guys are too.”

“We may not have a choice.”

“Yeah? What are we gonna do when one of us passes out and can’t get up? And don’t tell me it won’t happen. We can’t—”

The sharp retort of gunfire cut off my rant.

A rolling echo washed through the trees. The shot wasn’t
close—but it wasn’t nearly far enough away either. “They’re firing blind,” I said. “Have to be.”

“Or they have night-vision scopes,” Tory said.

Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.

“Move.” Ian picked up the pace. “Do not speak unless you must.”

I bit back a retort and tried to go faster. The rain misting down became fat droplets, and then a steady spatter that soaked me through and resurrected the chill in my bones. Lightning strobed the spaces between branches. The whip crack of thunder that followed almost had me diving for the ground.

Another gunshot chased the thunder. I swore I heard the bullet splinter wood somewhere close. And now I caught the sound of feet pounding over ground, snapping branches and crackling through leaves and needles. I had no idea how to judge distances with my amplified senses, but there was no doubt the sounds were closing in. Fast.

“Ian.” The urgency in Tory’s voice carried over the rain.

He cursed, glanced back at me. Slowed his ground-eating pace. “We change,” he said. “Come, thief.”

Tory nodded. He was glowing before I caught up with Ian. The hawk looked up at me, blinked, and let out a single low sound, a warning. His senses were probably better in that form. I sighed and half-wished we were flying instead. “If we get out of this, Ian, I’m buying a saddle for you. You’re really uncomfortable.”

He glared at me while he transformed. I’d probably get an earful for that later.

The wolf snorted and pawed the ground, an impatient stallion. I beat back reluctance and climbed aboard, lying as flat along his back as possible and clutching handfuls of wet fur. “Don’t drop me, all right?”

Various muscles bunched and tensed under me, as if he were saying
It will not be my fault if you fall
. The hawk took off first, and Ian bounded after it.

At least I didn’t have any broken bones this time. But that didn’t stop the impact of his feet with the ground from jarring me with every leap. As a wolf, Ian moved damned fast. The trees blurred by, a mass of mottled shades on either side. I tried to watch where we were going, but with the rain lashing my face and branches whipping at me, I had to assume a more protective position. I’d have to trust Ian not to run headfirst into something that wouldn’t get out of his way.

A piercing whistle sounded. Ian slowed a fraction and changed direction abruptly. My back end slid, and I tightened my grip while I righted myself. Ian let out a brief yelp.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Never did take those wolf-back riding lessons.”

Another report cracked behind us. Whether it actually was, or I’d just engaged in some serious wishful thinking, it sounded farther away. We were gaining ground.

Ian ran. I concentrated on gritting my teeth so they wouldn’t break while my jaw chattered with the cold and the erratic motion. Every few minutes, a call from Tory would change Ian’s course. I managed to lean into most of them and only pull out three or four hairs. Eventually the sounds of pursuit disappeared, and I dared to breathe again when Ian slowed to a fast sprint.

Tory glided down and kept pace with Ian. He shrieked, and there was worry in the sound. An instant later I felt the same black ribbon of energy that had invaded the monastery when we first met Calvin. Faint, but definitely there.

“Ela na’ar.”

The words whispered and reverberated around us like
the voice of God. A shiver worked through me, completely separate from the damp and the vibrations of Ian’s motion. Something massive rippled the air. Lightning and thunder clashed in heightened crescendos, as though the storm was responding to the spell—a spell I’d heard a lot more than I wanted to lately.
Fire.

Fifty feet ahead, a line of flames zipped across our path, like someone had dropped a match into a stream of gasoline. They rose fast, feeding on magic and wet wood, until we were facing an impenetrable wall of fire.

I
an skidded to a full stop. Somehow I managed not to fall. But when I tried to dismount, he snapped at me until I held still.

“We have to turn around,” I said. “Change back. Maybe we can fly over this.”

A low, steady growl issued from his throat. He paced back and forth, raised his muzzle to the wind. Barked once.

Tory dove down and pulled up at the last second before he hit the ground. He banked right and flew alongside the fire wall, a dark-winged silhouette backlit with flames, a phoenix in hawk’s clothing. Occasionally he recoiled and flapped furiously, as though he’d caught a draft of heated air.

And it was hot. The flames were immense, pulsating, alive. Angry as their maker. Heat undulated from them in growing waves, parched my skin, singed Ian’s fur. But he held his ground and watched the hawk.

“Goddamn it, Ian, what are you doing? This isn’t going to stop burning.” I tried again to slide down from his back.

He whipped his head around and brought his teeth together a whisper from my arm. I took that to mean they’d sink into flesh the next time.

Tory wheeled away, let out a shrill cry, and rose in the air. He flew at the same spot in the flames a few times, as if he were challenging them. Finally, he turned away and glided over us with a low whistle.

Ian trotted a good distance away from the fire. Just when I started to feel relieved, he paced in a half circle, tensed, and crouched. And bolted directly at the flames.

“Jesus!” My first instinct was to let go—but Ian was already moving so fast that I’d just end up rolling right into the fire. So I threw up a shield, buried my face in wet fur, and prayed the crazy bastard knew what he was doing.

The roar of the flames filled the world. Ian left the ground completely, and searing heat clamped down like a fast-food restaurant grill, transforming me into a sizzling piece of meat. For an instant I felt everything in a progression of colors—yellow, orange, red, white. The blazing intensity negated sweat, crushed even the idea of breathing. My bones were melting.

After an eternity, or maybe a few seconds, we broke through. Ian landed at a sprint, and I did my best to find out whether I’d emerged looking like Freddy Krueger. Everything seemed normal except for a few throbbing patches on my face, and the smoke rolling off me in billowing clouds.

He slowed to a lope and finally stopped, sides heaving against my legs. I tumbled to the ground and laid there in sweet, cool muck, eyes closed, letting the rain soak my stinging skin. Eventually, Ian changed back; I heard him gasp and plop on the ground. I didn’t bother looking at him. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“It was the lesser evil.” He almost sounded apologetic. “They are watching the skies. If we had gone over, we would have been seen. They will assume, at least for a time, that we are still on their side of the flames.”

Damn. That made sense. But I decided not to swell his head by admitting it. “How did you know we’d get through that without turning into torches?” I said. “I made a shield, but that was real fire.”

“Yes, it was. Taregan found the weakest point to pass through. And we were soaked, and traveling at a high speed.” Ian shrugged. “Do humans know nothing about fire survival?”

“No. Most of us just avoid jumping through bonfires,” I grumbled. “Where’s Tory?”

“Coming.”

A light tread approached. “You made it,” Tory said.

“I’m not so sure about that. I might be dead.” I held back a groan, pushed up to sitting, and sneezed hard. “Fuck! Okay, that hurt. Humans can die from pneumonia, you know.”

“If you die tonight, thief, I am certain it will not be from this ‘pneumonia.’” Ian got to his feet slowly. “We must keep moving.”

“This is news?” I muttered, and made myself stand. “Oh, Christ. Look at that.”

The fire was spreading. Not California-drought fast, but quickly enough to watch the progression. The sheer heat it threw out dried the next bunch of trees and caught them in the flames. Smoke poured from the blaze, blacker than the cloud-strewn sky. And the rain had already tapered off to a light mist.

My stomach clenched. “They’re crazy,” I said. “They’re going to burn the whole mountain down looking for us.”

“Vaelyn cast the spell. She likely does not care how much life she destroys in her pursuit.” Ian crossed his arms. “Their compound is no doubt protected.”

I turned away and frowned at the woods. “Yeah, but the town there isn’t. And …” Something in the endless uneven ranks of trees grabbed at my awareness. A clearing just ahead
of us—one I’d definitely seen before. “Mercy. Jesus, Ian, she’s five minutes from here! She’ll never be able to get away from this.”

Tory’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“A friend,” I said. No time for an explanation. “We have to get her out of there.”

Ian nodded. “But I do not know the way.”

“I do. I think.”
I hope.
At least I’d been conscious on the way. “Come on.”

I set out at a fast walk, not bothering to make sure the djinn followed. They could keep up. After a minute, my feet took over and I ran.

I’d never find the place.

The certainty weighed on me like a shroud. I didn’t know where the hell I was going. Even with the new and improved vision, every damned tree looked the same. But I ran anyway, dodging a dozen little dips and rises and roots that would’ve sent me sprawling if I’d tried this before Ian borrowed my soul, or whatever the hell he’d done.

When I hurtled into the clearing where Mercy’s place stood, I almost kept running.

Ian and Tory came right behind me. Her porch light was on, and Zephyr stood on the ground next to the steps, sporting half-filled saddlebags. I glanced back and saw the flames licking toward the night sky, probably half a mile away.

Mercy must’ve seen them too.

The front door banged open and she strode out with two little raccoons in her arms. A cloud of strong and pungent odor rolled out with her, reaching across the yard. I recognized the scent of weed immediately. Good shit.

She staggered down the porch steps, flicked a red-eyed
glance at me, and did a double take. “Who in the—oh, it’s you.” Her gaze hardened. “If you bastards started that blaze, I’ll shoot ya where you stand.”

I stopped and shook my head, temporarily too winded to speak. “You’re stoned,” I finally managed.

She snorted with laughter. “Still the smart one. Ol’ Mary Jane takes good to the mountain soil. I’d give y’all a hit, but I’m busy. There’s a fire, see?” A giggle escaped her, and she wove on her feet.

“Mercy, you won’t get away fast enough on a mule.” A pointless argument. She wasn’t exactly in a reasoning state of mind.

She set the raccoons on Zephyr’s back and unzipped one of the bags, then responded as if she hadn’t heard me. “Lightning, then,” she said. “Don’t know how it got going wet.”

“No. This isn’t a natural fire.”

“Yeah?” She coaxed the little furballs into a bag with a handful of dog food, then zipped it almost closed again. One of them chirred a little, but they didn’t try to escape. “If you ain’t started it, how do you know what did?”

“Donatti,” Tory said softly. “We might have a problem.”

Mercy’s glazed eyes moved to him. “Who’s this one?”

“This is Tory. Tory, Mercy.” Shit. We didn’t have time for introductions. “Look, we have to—”

“I’m goin’ to get Sister.” She headed back to the house.

I started after her, but Tory’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Let her go a minute,” he said. “We’re in trouble here.”

At last, I noticed the strain in his voice and really looked at him. He was falling down exhausted. Ian too. “Lemme guess,” I said. “You’re both tapped.”

He nodded. “Transformations took the last of it out of us.”

“Shit.” That left out flying away. I could barely float myself.

No way in hell I’d be able to carry even one more body through the air, let alone three plus a mule and three raccoons. “What about mirrors?” I said. “Even if she doesn’t have one, there’re windows at least.” Tiny windows, I noticed while I said it. The glass between the molded frames was only about four by four inches. None of us could squeeze through that.

Ian frowned. “You would have to cast four successive bridge spells yourself. Impossible, even for one of us. It would exhaust you.” He looked from the fire to the house, as if he were judging how long until we all got toasted. “Your new abilities are impressive, but they are earth magic. Not reflective magic.”