The Dragondain (25 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Gwen’s Present

L
ily
spent the rest of the day doing farm chores: cleaning out the horse stables, checking her tack, repairing things that hardly needed repairing, replacing things that were barely worn—anything to keep her hands busy and her mind diverted. She had hoped the hard work would take away her memory of the surprised look on Ren’s face, the way her hands flew up in shock, the expanding bloom of red on the stones. She tried not to think about all the others being dead. Maybe Jasper was right. Maybe not
all
of them were dead . . . maybe they were just captured, or being tortured.

It was hard work, not thinking.

That night, when Lily brought Jasper the moon coin, he restated his plan and assured her that he would be okay. But Lily wasn’t so sure.

“Jasper?”

“What?”

“Do you ever think . . . I mean, should we tell them?”

“Mom and Dad?”

Lily nodded.

Jasper put down his digital camera and fell into thought. “Dad would
never
let us go back,” he said a moment later.

“What about . . . if we were older? And they thought we could handle it? Maybe then?”

Jasper fiddled with the camera batteries. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “But with the way time moves, a few years here could mean decades there.”

Lily hadn’t really thought about that—at least, not so concretely. “Ember, Dubb, Cora, Tavin, the others!” she cried. “They’d all be old men and women!”

Her brother nodded. “I’ve had that thought. Our window to bring the Dain to the Rinn is a narrow one. We have to be careful how we use our time on Earth.”

Lily was thankful for Jasper at that moment. She knew that if it had been up to her, she wouldn’t have had the strength to go back so soon.

“All right,” she said, feeling a bit of her old spirit. She gave her brother a big hug.

The instant Lily opened her bedroom door, Tarzanna pounced from some dark hiding place, making a bold bid to gain admittance. In one swift motion, Lily snatched her up, tossed her back into the hall, and closed her door. Then she locked it, which she knew was overkill; after all, Tarzanna was just a cat. But it made her feel better, so she left it locked.

Leaning back on her bed pillows, Lily did her best to ignore a flurry of scratching from inside her closet. She perched her laptop on upraised knees and checked her email. The computer announced an incoming note from Isla with a
ding
.

Dearest Lily,

Guess what. While riding home, I saw
it
again. I thought about riding in after it to get a closer look, but I was afraid I might not be able to get back up to the road, and I didn’t want to get caught twice in one day. So I snapped this pic. I apologize for the lamo-osity of the quality, but it was on the move.

Luv,

Isla

P.S. I talked to Anthony, and movie night is a go!

Below the email was a fuzzy picture taken from the shoulder of the road leading to Isla’s house, along the northern edge of The Wald. Lily zoomed in a little on a white blur, narrowed her eyes, then zoomed out. She did this several times until she found the best magnification, which wasn’t very good. The blur
was
very horse-like . . . but was that a horn in the center of its head?

A
BANG!
sounded at the window pane. Lily leapt up. Tarzanna had made the leap from the tree to the window, but the window was closed.

“Tarzanna!” Lily shouted, tossing her laptop on the bed and jumping up.

Tarzanna had hit the windowpane squarely with her face. She looked outraged and dazed as she tried to turn sideways on the narrow, wooden ledge. Seeing Lily, she let out a loud, indignant meow.

“Hold still!” cried Lily, undoing the latch and gently raising the window.

Tarzanna teetered for a second, looked down, and then sank her rear claws into the wood, making a spectacular leap all the way to Lily’s bed. Turning, she gave Lily a dire look and voiced her displeasure.

“I like my windows closed when it’s chilly outside,” Lily scolded her. “You should know that by now! You’re not a kitten anymore, you know.”

Tarzanna showed Lily her tail, dropped to the floor, and sauntered over to the closet door, flopping to her side and pawing under the door.

Lily walked over to her closet and stared down at the cat. Tarzanna looked up. She was wearing her crazy, moth-eating eyes and licking her lips.

“Hungry, are you?” she asked. Tarzanna meowed loudly.

Lily opened the door to her closet and switched on the overhead lights. Tarzanna shot in and began inspecting the dark area below Lily’s color-coded clothes. Her tail brushed against the beaded necklaces hanging from the lower pegs of the rolling ladder. The beads jangled and sparkled. The scratchings ceased, only to start again a few seconds later. But Lily couldn’t tell exactly
where
the noise was coming from. The wooden cabinetry made it difficult to pinpoint any one spot.

Living on a farm with animals and grain, Lily had plenty of experience with mice, but she had
never
seen one in her closet. She scrutinized the shelves and drawers, looking for irregularities. Except for the area under her hanging garments, the contents of her closet were immaculately organized. Lily drew open a drawer full of bracelets; then one just of socks; one of tights; black boots (full); not-black boots (half-full). Lily rolled the ladder along its curved rail until it was positioned to the left of the closet door and climbed to the top, where she inspected the lid of a handmade, cedar-lined box. The box was packed full with fall sweaters. Lifting the lid, she poked around gingerly, looking for mouse nests.

Lily replaced the lid, grabbed hold of the curved railing, and towed herself to the next stack of boxes. She’d made it halfway down the left side when Tarzanna skittered out from underneath one of the garment racks, hissing and spitting. Lily climbed down silently, making sure not to stir her feathered dress-up boas (a Tarzanna favorite).

“Found him, girl?”

Tarzanna hissed again, backing away.

Kneeling down, Lily tilted her head and peered into the jumble. The noise, which had started again, was coming from the far wall of the closet. Right where her new boots were! Lily tucked in and began heaving old clothes and bric-a-brac over her shoulders, burrowing in to save the boots. It seemed to take forever to get them in her hands, but once she did she stood up and held them to the light, turning them over and over, her heart pounding. But they were fine.

Tarzanna peeked in the closet cautiously. The tapping noise began anew near Lily’s feet. Tarzanna froze, then hunkered down. Lily carefully set the boots on a shelf and peered down. The noise was clearly coming from inside the upturned helmet.

“Get him, Tarzanna!” said Lily encouragingly.

Lily nudged the helmet with her foot. The tapping stopped. She seized an old dress-up wand with a big star on it and slowly stirred the contents, but she could find no mouse. Lily was getting tired of this. After giving a few more pokes for good measure, she reached down and cautiously picked up the wooden ball with two fingers, making sure no mouse was clinging to the other side. The weight of the ball seemed to shift oddly. Or was that just her imagination?

Tarzanna made a deep, growling sound in the back of her throat and swept back her ears.

“What is it, girl?” Lily held the ball out to Tarzanna for her inspection.

She gave the ball a tentative sniff and sprang back as though she’d been shocked by static electricity. Her hair fluffed out, making her look twice her size, and she spat and hissed as loudly as Lily had ever heard.

“It’s just a ball, silly,” chided Lily, rising to stand. But Tarzanna spun around and dashed away, crossing the room with lightning speed, bouncing once off the bed and out the window.

As Lily stared at the window, the tapping renewed. This time, however, there was no mistaking where it was coming from. It was coming from
inside
the wooden ball.

“Now, how did you get in there, little—
mouse?”
she muttered.

Worried, Lily moved to the window to see how Tarzanna had fared leaping to the tree. She heard the tapping increase, then decrease. Tarzanna was nowhere to be seen.

“Coward,” Lily yelled, slamming down the window.

She headed back toward the closet. The tapping increased again, then decreased. Lily turned back toward the window and held the wooden ball at arm’s length. The tapping increased as she approached the bonsai, then lessened as she walked away.

Odd.

Crouching down, Lily settled the wooden ball under the tree boughs, on top of an arrangement of moss-covered stones. The scratching was constant now. Lily spun the ball so that the latch faced her. She flicked open the latch. The ball went silent.

What could make so much noise in a space so small?
A click beetle? Something that had burrowed into the wood? How could it sense the bonsai? Was it hungry? Did it sense the juicy leaves? Whatever it was, it was tiny. How dangerous could it be?

Lily swung open the ball.

The crystal was no longer dark. A cloudy light pulsed at its center, like a firefly caught in swirling amber. Lily leaned in for a closer look. With a loud pop, like the last errant kernel of popcorn, out popped the firefly-spark.

Arcing through the air, it grew larger and darker, bouncing several times on the wooden slab before finally coming to rest on a patch of moss. The spark was now a dull ball, two inches wide, seemingly lifeless, and covered by what looked like tightly packed feathers.

Lily stared in wonder as the feathers ruffled and uncurled. The expanding ball rose into the air supported by two small but shapely blue legs. Suddenly, the ball split open with a crack, forming two outstretched wings attached to a small blue woman whose skin was covered in a lacework of dark tattoos. She held her little blue arms above her head exultant, her long black tresses reaching out with a life all their own. With her eyes closed and a smile playing across her lips, she looked as if she were taking her first satisfying stretch after a lifetime of sleep.

“Faerathil!” Lily breathed, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. “The Faerie Queen!”

Faerathil’s eyes flashed open, revealing a brilliant pair of sulfur colored irises: tiny, petal-shaped jets pulsating around pinpoints of black night. Her thick hair shot out in all directions like striking snakes, and her wings snapped shut, draping around her dusky blue shoulders and hanging down halfway to her knees like a living cloak. Opening her mouth, she hissed like a cat, showing off her pointy teeth and red mouth.

A second later, looking less startled, she tilted her head and stared at Lily in wide-eyed wonder. Faerathil straightened her lithe body, claiming her full six inches of height. The bright yellow-green of her eyes dulled. She blinked slowly, and when her eyes reopened, the irises had changed to a vibrant shade of deep blue.

Faerathil spoke several sentences in a language Lily didn’t understand, clearly ending with a question.

“I can’t understand you,” said Lily. “Can you understand me?”

Faerathil’s jaw clenched, and her irises flared deep red. When she spoke again, she sounded indignant, making angry gestures with her arms and clicking her long, dark fingernails. They looked like talons. Suddenly, Lily understood the scratching coming from inside the wooden ball.

The third time Faerathil spoke, Lily thought she caught a word or two. Could Faerathil be speaking in the common tongue of the Moon Realm?

“I’m sorry,” Lily began, “but I don’t understand what—”

Faerathil gave an angry shout and launched herself at Lily’s face. Startled, Lily leapt backward. Faerathil brandished her claws in mid-air. About three feet from the bonsai—and two inches from Lily’s nose—Faerathil vanished in a brilliant flash of blue dust. Lily continued to fall backward, bounced once on the bed, and came up into a sitting position, ready to leap in any direction. The orb, which had gone dark after Faerathil emerged from it, suddenly sparked, regaining its firefly-light. Lily dove for the wooden ball, snatched it up, and refastened its latch while running to the other side of the room. Her breath coming in short gasps, the wooden ball clutched tightly to her chest, she frantically scanned her room for any signs of Faerathil’s reappearance.

Faerathil!
thought Lily.
Faerathil, the Faerie Queen! Here in my room!

Lily’s gaze slowly gravitated to the toys standing to the left of the bonsai, seeking one in particular: the Faerathil doll Uncle Ebb had presented to her on her fourth birthday. It would have towered over the Faerathil she’d just seen. To Lily, the doll had always seemed so lifelike, but no more—not now that she had seen the real thing. There were other differences besides height. For example, the doll wore tattooed clothes, but the real Faerathil hadn’t had a stitch on—her tattoos
were
her clothes. Lily’s eyes fell to the wooden ball. She examined the angular runes burned onto its surface. Lily thought darkly that maybe they were a warning not to open the ball, written in every language known to the Moon Realm, with perhaps a few others thrown in for good measure. Regaining her composure, Lily wondered just how much time she had before Faerathil’s little talons would renew their tapping and scratching.

Jasper went over his list for the hundredth time. His aim was to travel as light as possible. The camera was a great idea, but the pictures would be a liability. What if their parents saw them? And it didn’t help that his camera was an older, heavier model. Still, Lily would kill him if he only recorded what he could draw or sketch. And the prospect of bringing back pictures of some of the different languages in the Tomb was a siren call to Jasper’s curiosity.

A knock sounded at his door—Lily’s knock. Jasper quickly pulled up the bed quilt, neatly covering everything he’d laid out, and opened his door a crack in case anyone was in the hallway with her, but it was just Lily.

“Hi,” she said, giving a quick finger wave. Jasper couldn’t help noticing the shock still lingering on his sister’s face, which only increased his determination to find out
exactly
what had happened on Dain. He knew it might be a long time before they could align one of their nighttime journeys to the Moon Realm with a time when there would be a crossover with Dain, but he also knew that, with good planning, it could be done—eventually.

Jasper opened the door enough to let Lily slip in.

“Going so soon?” she said, gesturing to the lumps under Jasper’s bed quilt, followed by a giddy laugh.

It made Jasper sad to see her like this. She was obviously suffering from severe shock.

“In about an hour,” he said solemnly.

She brightened visibly. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was wondering if maybe I could . . . oh . . . borrow the necklace until then?” She smiled sheepishly.

“Why?” asked Jasper, suddenly suspicious.

“Uh—” Lily blanked. “So—” Her eyes darkened, and she looked down around her feet. “So . . . I could . . . finish drawing it! Yeah. I never finished the back. I’m
really
close, though! I could be finished in less than an hour—no problem.”

Jasper’s suspicions faded. Finishing the drawing would be good for her. It would allow her to concentrate on something else for a while, take her away from her pain, if only for a short time.

“Sure, Lily,” said Jasper, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the necklace.

“Really?” said Lily, sounding surprised. “I just want to finish drawing it. I can show you where I haven’t finished it yet. It’s on the back part.” Lily nodded to herself vigorously and pointed with two fingers toward her room. “I’ll go get it! I can show you—”

“Lily!” said Jasper, irritation creeping into his voice.

She froze.

“Here,” he said, holding out the necklace, smiling. “Just get it back to me within the hour, okay?”

Lily looked at the necklace in Jasper’s hand.
Like candy from a baby.
Her lips twitched as she fought to hold back a smile.

Jasper felt terrible for the weight his sister was now carrying on her shoulders. He could see she was just barely keeping it together. “Take it,” he said, pressing the necklace into her hands.