The Last Stand of Daronwy (21 page)

They were idiots! First Faker, now this. They would drain all the water out of the pond. The sky had grown darker—there wasn't enough time to get a shovel and come back. He had to dam it with what he could find. Jeremy rolled a thick log to the edge of the pond where the little channel had been started. Using a smaller stick to dig beneath the log, he wedged the log between the trench's opening and the pond. He stomped on the log to set it into place.

Shooo-wheet!

Jeremy glanced up as if he could see his house. He jammed some sticks behind the log and covered them with dirt.
Shooo-wheet!
Dad's second call! He jumped on top of the entire mess, driving it into the mud, sealing the entrance of the ditch. Mud splattered his jeans; he'd have to deal with that later. Scurrying through the underbrush, he gathered an armful of dead leaves, stuffing them into the impression that remained, and covered them with dirt. He stomped it all down into a beaver-like dam. Icy water leached into his shoes.
Shooo-wheet!
He didn't have to time to see if they would hold. He sprinted down the trails in soggy shoes, wondering how he was going to explain his muddy clothes.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Daniel stepped to the edge of the smaller hill in Twin Hills, shielded his eyes, and stared out over the sandy expanse of the Mini Desert. “It's a long way to go.”

Jeremy looked out over the same gray autumn wood, watching it transform in his mind into a basalt rift valley with steam fumaroles puffing sulfur into the air. The only way into Kronshar's lands undetected would be from the northeast, through this desolate rift valley. “Yeah. We can't stop once we get down into that valley. We have to cross it.”

They wound their way down the embankment, past the last scraggly dregs of plant life. The air warmed as they descended, and the reek of sulfur became nauseating. The floor of the great valley was crushed black basalt. They pushed the horses into a canter. Streams ran hot and bright blue, full of minerals and poisons from deep in the earth. The air shimmered off the black ground.

Huge piles of slag that had been vomited up from the earth smoked in the distance both to the left and the right. Nothing grew or lived here. “No wonder there are no guards out here. This air is killing me,” said Kavarine, one of the adepts who they had taught to use the Stones. She coughed.

Naranthor nodded. “We should use a folding spell.”

“It's too dangerous here,” said Niritan. “We might end up on one of those things.” He pointed at a young volcano beginning to build its slopes just south of them. “Not to mention, Kronshar's sentinels would certainly detect the magic.”

“What does it matter? Won't those sentinels notice the Stones?”

The adepts exchanged glances, but none spoke.

“As I told you, it is a chance we take.”

Deep gouges cut through the earth in places, slowing their progress. Eaglewing began looking at the sun, then at the distance before them. The other side of the valley was still too far away to be seen. He urged the horses faster, hoping they could cover more ground before nightfall.

As the sun set in a crimson slash in the sky behind them, the ground began to rumble. Pebbles skittered over the rough rock of the valley floor. “This doesn't seem good,” Lightningbolt said.

The horses balked, eyes rolling. Eaglewing tried to urge his horse on. A deafening explosion ripped through the air, shaking the ground. The wizards threw shields and Eaglewing drew his sword. To the north, they could see the plume of smoke in the air from the towering cone of a volcano. Rumbling down the mountain, a gray cloud rolled away from the volcano like a low-flying storm.

“Ride!” screamed Niritan.

They urged the frenzied horses into a gallop, and Kavarine created a shield over them as a white-hot hail of brimstone and ash rained down. They could see the lava marching like a red and black army. The hot volcanic storm overtook them. Niritan pulled energy from it and fed it into their speed in such a way that the magic would be masked to any outside observers. Their horses' hooves only hit the ground once every five strides. As they ran on the edge of the searing air belching up from deep within the earth, the black rock flashed past beneath them; entire ravines opened and closed as they glided over them. When the cloud began to dissipate and slow, Niritan relaxed his magic, bringing the horses back to the earth slowly—a footfall here, a footfall there. Soon their hooves were clattering against the rock again, sparks flying from their shoes. The adepts reined in. Their horses shivered, covered in sweat.

“Do you think they saw that?” Eaglewing said.

“No.” His brother shook his head, dismounting. “Niritan covered the magic with the energy of the volcano. It would have looked like another part of the eruption.”

Kavarine frowned at her singed cloak. “That was close.”

Eaglewing nodded, holding up his cape and peering through several burn holes in it.

Niritan opened his mouth to speak, then looked up. All of them felt it at the last second, and none of them had time to react. The boulder crashed to the ground next to them, cracking the rock. The adepts belatedly ducked, shielding their heads with their hands. The horses stared at it, rooted to the ground in fear before trying to bolt. The adepts scrambled to grab their reins and calm the beasts. “Now, that was close,” said Naranthor. He laughed and eyed the dark sky above.

Kavarine coughed. “I don't know how much more of this place I can take.”

“We can't keep going tonight. We should camp here.”

Lightningbolt stared in the direction of the volcano. “Do you think we're safe?”

“Nowhere is safe in this valley, but Eaglewing is right,” Niritan said. “We must stay here tonight. The valley is much shallower and broader than it once was.”

“You've been here before?”

Niritan nodded. “In my youth, I crossed here. We went in search of a particular volcano, one with passages deep into the earth. Within it, we found the right kind of crystals. The Ancient Master, Eriankian, who was ancient even then, was with us. None of us were able to watch, but as his last act, he used those crystals to create the Red Stone.”

“You
saw
him create the Red Stone?” Naranthor asked.

“No. That's the problem. I remember the wild energy, the incredible power he bent to the task. We had many other wizards from all races here as well, each carrying a Stone. He was trying to create a blue Stone, a twelfth Stone. But instead, he created the Red Stone.”

“Do you know how he did it?”

Niritan shook his head. “That is what I have been trying to puzzle out from my memories since we arrived in this valley. I remember the essence of the magic, remember the kinds of spells they wove. But I do not know where or even if we can find such crystals again.” Sadness passed through his eyes. “The world was a much younger place in those days. And this valley was far deeper.”

“If we delve into one of those volcanoes, it could easily be the very end of this quest, and Kronshar will ravish the world without anyone to stop him.” Eaglewing crossed his arms, feet planted, as though he'd wrestle the idea to the ground.

“I realize this, warrior.” Niritan's gaze shifted to the orange glows on the far off volcano. “But, what are our chances for success with our crude use of the four Stones against his five, against he who has the control of the Red, and thus can possibly control them all whether or not we have them in our possession? We could be simply bringing him the tools to use against us and the rest of the world.”

This had been the debate long before they left on this fool's errand. Eaglewing sighed, turning to his horse, and unsaddled the mare.

“You know he's right, Eaglewing,” said Naranthor.

“Of course he's right,” said Lightningbolt. “But there must be a way to stop Kronshar. It can't be entirely hopeless.”

“We can't make a pass at all the volcanoes and explore them, though. We'd never get out of this damn valley, and I don't know how much more of this sulfur I can inhale,” said Kavarine.

“No, no, we can't,” said Eaglewing.

“I can stay.” All four adepts turned to the ancient blue creature.

“What?” Eaglewing blinked. “That's insane!”

“Is it? I can stay here, find the volcano with the deepest roots, maybe find the right kind of crystals. If I find them, I can try to use them to create our own Red Stone. We need some advantage over Kronshar. As it stands now, we have the advantage of surprise, but none of us know if we can pass the sentinels without being discovered. We have to attempt something. We have two sets of jump cloths. I can take one and jump to you.”

“It's a good plan,” said Naranthor.

Eaglewing shook his head. “The next thing you're going to say is that you'll need to keep a Stone so that you can—”

Niritan leveled his yellow gaze at Eaglewing.

“No, no, this is a terrible idea.”

Lightningbolt stepped toward them. “Niritan, we would be going into battle with Kronshar with only three Stones. We're already shorthanded with four.”

“I will return before that moment. You must call to me when you need me, and I shall jump to you.”

“We need all the advantage we can muster before we arrive at Khazim. Niritan should go,” said Naranthor.

Eaglewing collapsed, sitting against the giant bolder. “I hate this idea.” He stared out into the deepening shadows at the bottom of the valley, watching the glow from the edges of the rifts and the baby volcanoes.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“No. But, we lose a Stone, we lose one of our escape paths, and we lose the strongest wizard we have on the off-chance that you can find the right type of crystal, on the off-chance that you can then create something from it, if you happen to find it. How does that sound like a good idea? Niritan, this place has probably changed so much you could wander it for the rest of your long life, and you'd still never find your one volcano, with the right crystals and the right depth and the right whatever else it is that you need.”

The Edenkiri nodded. “True. True.”

Lightningbolt broke the intervening silence. “I also think he should go.”

Eaglewing stared at his brother, half turning his head. “You do?”

“Yes. This entire enterprise is one step away from failure. If he can craft something that could cancel the Red Stone's power—”

“And if he can't?”

“Then how are we worse off?”

“If he dies?”

The words hung on the poisoned air.

“It is a risk we all take,” Lightningbolt said at length.

Eaglewing sighed.

Naranthor said, “You can start tomorrow, Niritan.”

“Actually, if we can divide the supplies, I will leave tonight and get an early start. As you noted, I need all the time I can get.”

“Tonight?”

“I see better in the dark than all of you,” Niritan said.

Eaglewing shook his head and threw his saddlebag on the ground. He sat next to it and began silently sorting supplies in the acrid half-light of the distant volcanoes.

The days grew dangerously short. Jeremy ran to his room, threw his book bag to the floor, and changed into old jeans and shoes. He strapped the Rambo knife to his belt and sprinted back outside. The shadows were already long beneath the trees. In the lot across the street, Loren had organized a football game with himself as quarterback. He yelled, “One, Twenty-Two, Green, hut hut!”

Jeremy skirted the game, wanting to run to the Tree. The sounds of the football game faded as he ran deeper into the bike trails. In a moment, he was at the pond, enjoying the feeling of wind in his hair, his feet against the packed clay. A new ditch slashed across the trail from the pond to the Swamp Creek. Jeremy jumped it and skidded to a stop. He walked back to the little trench, hands balling into fists. He took his knife out of its scabbard and started using it to loosen the packed dirt on either side, working to fill it in, stabbing at the ground as though it were to blame.
Who would do this? Why?

“Touchdown!” came a shout through the trees.

Jeremy looked toward the bike trails and the football game he could not see. He pulled the knife out of the ground, shoved it in the scabbard, and stormed down the trail. He stomped onto the empty lot as they finished a play. Before reason could kick in, he yelled, “Hey!”

Motion stopped. Six pairs of wide eyes stared at him.

Jeremy's heart stalled, his stomach quaked, and his knees shook. What was he doing? He should run. But it was too late now. He yelled again. “Hey!” He took a few steps toward them. “Which one of you has been digging ditches to drain the pond?”

They looked from one to the other, to him, questions in their eyes. Finally, Loren said, “What are you talking about, little man?”

“Someone is digging trenches to drain the pond in Twin Hills. Which one of you is doing it? I don't think you should do it. If that pond drains…” Travis' bald head and weak smile flashed through his mind. Silence hung in the air like a fragile golden thread. They waited for him to finish. Finally, he blurted, “Then whatever is in that water that made Travis sick will spread.”

Fortunately, no one laughed.

Lee shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down.

Sy cocked his head sideways. “What are you talking about, Jeremy?”

“Show us.” Loren motioned toward Twin Hills.

Jeremy swallowed.
Really?
“All right, come on.”

He cut through the bike trails as they followed. His hands shook, but he tried to keep them from noticing it. They walked without noise. Jeremy worried they would turn back, but each time he glanced over his shoulder, they were still there, marching behind him in silence. At the pond, he stepped over the half-filled trench and pointed at it. “Look at this.” Jeremy then went a little further away and pointed at the dam he had built a week ago. “And look at this. This was the first one I found, and I dammed it up. Who's doing this?”

Loren nudged the finished dam with his foot. “That's a good dam.”