The Curse of Deadman's Forest (34 page)

“And Carl has been running a terrible fever for the past two days. Yesterday he was out in the rain and his cough has grown much worse.” She paused then and they could all hear the labored, wet breathing coming from the frail lad under the quilt.

The crone moved to Eva and Carl, then lifted the coverlet and inspected Eva’s wound before feeling Carl’s forehead. “They are both quite close to death,” she announced.

Theo took Ian’s hand and squeezed it. “Can you help them?”

“Of course I can,” she said simply. “But we must first strike a bargain. What trinket do you have to offer me?”

Ian’s panic returned, and he knew that somehow, he’d made a horrible mistake. “Ma’am,” he began, “I’m terribly sorry, but outside I meant to offer you the sundial in return for healing my friends here. I didn’t mean for you to give me any kind of assistance.”

Theo looked sharply at Ian. “You gave her the dial?” she whispered. Ian nodded grudgingly. To his great shame, he felt Theo’s eyes go to his right arm, and saw her look for the outline of his wound.

But his attention returned to the crone when she came back to stand in front of them. “Our bargain was not struck
outside, lad,” she told him. “It originated when Eva brought me to you some three nights ago, and I began the process of healing you there. Once I had received my payment, I only needed to complete the transaction.”

“But what about our friends?” Theo begged. “Won’t you please take the sundial as payment for all three?”

The crone shook her head sadly. “Only one offering per customer,” she said. “That is the rule I have honored all these long years. To receive my gift you must offer me a gift in return, something I do not already possess.”

Ian’s eyes roved over the piles and piles of odds and ends stuffed into the tree house. He realized abruptly that there was exactly one of each item there—no multiples anywhere. “But they’ll die without your help!” he said desperately.

The crone nodded. “Yes. They most definitely will, lad.”

Ian ran to his knapsack and frantically began to empty its contents in search of anything the crone might accept as payment. Other than a few apples, cheese, and extra batteries for the lost torch, there was not much to offer her. “Does any of this interest you?” he asked, praying that maybe the old crone would take a battery or two.

She shuffled over to him and peered down to inspect his belongings. “No,” she said softly. “I have no need for your food, and I’ve already received one of those.” She tapped her foot near one of the batteries.

Ian looked at Theo desperately, hoping she had an idea. She seemed deep in thought, her hand clenched tightly about her crystal, and that gave Ian the answer. Quickly, he
pulled at the cord around his neck and lifted the pouch containing the small piece of the Star of Lixus. With shaking fingers, he struggled to open the top and tipped the pouch over, allowing the opal to fall into his palm. “Here!” he said, offering it to her desperately. “Take it!”

The crone bent to inspect the contents of his palm. In answer she reached into the folds of her dark cloak and pulled out a fistful of gemstones. Ian could clearly see a large opal among the collection. “I’m afraid I already have one of those,” she told him.

“Wait!” he said, getting to his feet, still attempting to offer her the Star. “You don’t understand. This is a magical opal. The wearer is able to understand any language while wearing it.”

To his dismay, the crone simply turned away with a chuckle. “I speak every language that has ever been known to man, lad. What need have I to carry such a trinket when I already have one that is far larger and more beautiful?”

Ian let his hand drop to his side. He had nothing left to offer, nothing in his meager belongings that the old crone might be interested in. He knew that she would not heal Carl and Eva, no matter how desperate their situation, without something of value.

A heavy silence fell over the small house, broken only by the terrible rasping of Carl’s labored breathing. The crone made a small tsking when neither he nor Theo offered her anything further, and began to move toward the door.

“A moment, if you please!” called Theo.

The crone paused. “Yes?”

“I have something, ma’am. Something of great value. Something I’m certain you don’t already have.”

The crone turned back to her, clearly interested. “Show me.”

Tears streamed down Theo’s cheeks and she swallowed hard before reaching behind her neck and unclasping her crystal. She held the beautiful soft pink gem, rimmed in gold, up to the old woman. “This is called the Eye of Zeus. It is the most precious gemstone known to man. It can aid in the development of the seer sense and allow the wearer to know of things that have yet to happen.”

The crone’s expression was unreadable. She stared, transfixed, as Theo held the crystal aloft and the light from the lantern sparkled off the polished stone. Finally, the crone asked, “Where did you get such a treasure, lass?”

Theo wiped her eyes and inhaled deeply. “My mother gave it to me,” she said.

The crone seemed to search Theo’s face, as if trying to determine if she spoke the truth. “Your mother?” she asked. Theo nodded. “What is the name of your mother?”

“Jacinda Barthorpe, ma’am.”

Again the crone studied Theo, and Ian could tell she was becoming uncomfortable under the peering eyes. “And where is your mother now?”

Theo’s eyes flickered to Ian and he cautioned her with a subtle head shake not to reveal too much. “She’s …,” Theo began. “Back in England, ma’am.”

“Alive?” the crone asked, and Ian thought that an odd question.

Theo swallowed and squared her shoulders. “Of course,” she replied simply.

It was hard to tell but Ian could swear the crone appeared disappointed. “Ah,” she said, holding out her hand for the jewel. Theo placed it gently into the old woman’s palm and the crone poked at it for a moment. “I once had a nearly identical crystal that I felt compelled to give away to a wise and beautiful lady, who would eventually see it to its rightful owner. It was the only trinket I have ever given to anyone, in fact, and this is even more surprising considering how much I valued it.” With that the crone curled her fingers around Theo’s necklace and held it to her chest, as if she treasured it.

After a moment the old woman spoke again. “I have lived longer than any mortal. I have been touched by the greatest good and the darkest evil, and their touch invested in me a great power. The power to heal even the most desperately ill of souls. But this power has come at a terrible price to me personally, and so I have exacted a price for my healing touch. All I have asked throughout the ages was for a trinket, a token, a show of good faith. Those who could or would pay the price received my gift and were grateful. Those who did not … perished.

“And while my services have been offered in the most gracious of attitudes, still my restless soul has been tortured. The greatest love of my life has been my darkest enemy and
has kept me bound to this forest throughout the ages. I have shouldered that burden all these years alone. And here you come, child, offering me this gift, and I will receive it, for that is the promise I made to myself so long ago.”

The crone then placed the crystal within the folds of her cloak, and Ian saw Theo’s lips tremble. She looked like she was fighting hard not to cry again. “Which soul am I to heal?” the crone asked abruptly.

Ian’s jaw fell open. “Both of them!” he said quickly. “The Eye of Zeus is priceless and should be valuable enough for both of them to be healed!”

The crone’s dark eyes bore into his and Ian knew there would be no further argument when she reminded him, “One trinket for one healing. This price cannot be altered.”

Ian felt his heart begin to race. They would be able to save only Carl or Eva. “Carl!” he said with a horrible guilty pang. “Save Carl.”

The crone looked to Theo. “The girl is the one who offered the trinket,” she said. “She should be the one to name who receives my healing.”

Ian waited for Theo to say Carl’s name, but as she stared at the two under the quilt, he realized she was unsure. He hurried to her side and whispered urgently, “Carl is our friend, Theo. You can’t allow him to die!”

Theo stared straight ahead, her fingers near her throat where her pendant used to lie. “Eva was trying to save you,” she replied softly. “That’s why she took our money, Ian. She was going into the city in search of a trinket to offer the Healer who saved your life. And that’s why she came after
you when she’d learned you’d left the cottage. She knew the Healer would expect payment, and she didn’t believe you had it. She was shot trying to protect you.”

Ian was shaking his head; he knew what she was saying. “No,” he begged her. “Theo,
please!
Don’t let Carl die!”

Theo closed her eyes; turning away from him, to the crone, she whispered, “The girl. Save Eva.”

Ian sank to the floor, staring up at her in utter disbelief while the crone moved over to Eva and knelt down. But before she could do anything more, a terrible rumble began to echo through the trees. The three of them held perfectly still, listening as the sound got louder and louder … and then stopped.

For several long seconds nothing but the sounds of the birds singing merrily outside came to their ears, but then the quiet of the morning was shattered by a tremendous explosion. It sounded as if a thousand sticks of dynamite had been set off, and the explosion was followed immediately by a rain of debris, which crashed loudly against the surrounding trees, the bridge outside, and the roof over their heads. The crone stood more quickly than her age should have allowed. She ran to the door and threw it open. Ian was right behind her and what he saw was almost too astonishing to believe.

Below the bridge was an enormous tank, its gun aimed menacingly at the lower half of one of the giant stones circling the empty ground. The top half of the stone had already been blown to smithereens. The crone gasped and her hand flew to her heart just as the tank’s massive cannon blew apart the lower portion of the stone.

Ian and the crone were thrown backward, and he covered his head with his hands as more debris rained down. When all came to rest again, they heard a familiar voice from outside barking orders and Theo gasped, “That’s the colonel that shot Eva! The one who’s working with Magus!”

The crone got to her feet and stared in surprise at Theo, as if seeing her for the first time. “What did you say?” she demanded.

“Eva was shot by a German colonel yesterday who said he was looking for a path through the forest.”

The crone moved to Theo and gripped her by the shoulders. “What other name did you say, child?” she asked, her eyes wide with panic.

“Magus?” Theo asked timidly. The crone’s jaw fell open and Theo was quick to explain. “You must believe me when I tell you that this Magus the Black is a vile and evil sorcerer working to bring about the end of the world!”

The crone released her and stepped back, her breathing rapid and fearful. “He has come,” she said hoarsely. And then she focused on Theo and Ian. Slowly, something seemed to dawn on her. She reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled the sundial out. “Where did this come from?” she asked Ian.

Ian couldn’t fathom why she needed to know that when outside a tank was blowing apart the crone’s forest, but he told her the truth. “It was left to me by an ancient Oracle. A woman named—”

“Laodamia,” finished the crone, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Yes,” Ian replied, stunned that she knew.

The crone then turned to Theo and asked, “Do you really live with your mother, child?”

Theo’s eyes cast down to the floor, and she said, “No, ma’am. I live in an orphange called Delphi Keep.”

The crone sighed and lifted her steepled hands to her lips, as if thinking deeply.

Another explosion rocked the small wooden house and Ian had to brace himself against the wall merely to remain standing. When he looked up again, the crone was moving very quickly to Eva. Kneeling down, she lifted the girl into her arms and held her tightly, whispering and rocking her gently back and forth.

Ian’s hopelessness returned when he clearly saw color return to the girl’s cheeks while his best mate lay unconscious and dying right next to her. Ian felt so tormented by the scene that he moved to the doorway to distract himself by watching what was going on below. The tank had pulverized the first megalith in its path and was moving on to another.

And Ian observed something else that both startled and frightened him. The muddy clearing just below the circular bridge began to churn. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t simply seeing things, but as the tank settled before another stone and aimed its turret in front of it, he knew it was all really happening.

He turned back into the house right before the tank fired for the third time, and when the hail of debris had finished, he saw to his amazement that Eva was sitting up, looking robustly healthy and quite surprised.

Behind her the crone was speaking intently to Theo, who was nodding and listening with rapt attention. The old woman then placed something in Theo’s hands and folded the girl’s fingers over the object. Ian could see a gold chain dangling and was shocked at the thought that perhaps the crone had reconsidered taking the crystal from Theo after all.

The Healer then moved swiftly over to Ian and cupped his face in her hands. “Ian Wigby,” she said, and he wondered if Theo had told the old woman his name, “you must listen to me very carefully, because soon there will be no time for talk. You must flee this place; return to your fortress. You will take Eva with you, no matter how she fights you. You must not leave her behind.” The crone paused to see if Ian understood, and he nodded.

“Magus the Black has come for my daughter,” she said gravely. “Prophecy has ordained his success.”

“Your daughter?” Ian asked. “Who is your daughter?”

The crone offered him a sad smile. “Lachestia the Wicked.”

Had she not been holding Ian’s face, his jaw might have dropped. “How … how … how is that possible?” he asked her.
“Who
are
you?”