The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (33 page)

A little more than a meter down, the shovel
thunk
ed against something solid.
“
I hope that
’
s a sword, and not bedrock,
”
Faith said.
“
Have you got enough left to help me lift this thing out?
”

“
I can try.
Let
’
s see what we
’
re working with.
”

They scraped out handfuls of mud and tossed it away, fighting against a slide of earth and rainwater that filled the hole almost as fast as they emptied it.
Sara
’
s fingers brushed the pitted surface of weathered wood.
“
I
’
ve got it.
Quick, help me find the edges and lift.
”

Together, they managed to heft one end of a long wooden box from the hole.
Sara struggled to levitate it while Faith hauled on the other end.
The wet earth dragged at the box, sapping the last of Sara
’
s power.
She pulled harder.
“
I didn
’
t get this far to quit now,
”
she snarled.

The box gave way at last with a squelch of mud.
She and Faith fell back, and the box landed on top of them.
Panting, they clambered to their feet and raised the box up onto their shoulders.

“
Your tent, quick.
It
’
s closest,
”
said Faith, taking the lead while Sara stumbled along behind her.

They reached the shelter of Sara
’
s tent, and ducked inside as another volley of lightning snapped.
Sara zipped shut the tent flap while her sister set the box on the table.
She went to the lantern and turned it on as high as she dared, just enough to see.
Any higher, and it would attract the notice of other crew members.

Standing over the table, they examined the dig site
’
s third find: a battered oak box, splitting with decay.
Judging from how long it had lain hidden in the peat, Sara couldn
’
t believe it had survived.
She touched the amulet hidden under her sodden shirt and wondered if, as with the necklace, there might be a reason it hadn
’
t aged faster.

Fragments of cloth stuck to the brass hinges and lock.
The box must have been wrapped in an oilcloth before being laid in its resting place.
She traced her fingers over the lid, and felt regular, shallow depressions where carved runework had worn to near illegibility.
The archaeologist in her screamed for a tape measure and notebook.
“
I hate to open this thing without cataloguing it.
”

Faith gaped at her.
“
Put this in writing?
Are you nuts?
”

“
I know, I know.
Let
’
s just open it before I lose the nerve.
”

Faith picked up her shovel and smashed it against the lock.
The soft brass split in two and fell to the table.
“
Hakon, I hope you know what you
’
re doing.
”
She opened the latch and lifted the box
’
s lid.

Inside rested a cloth bundle.
Touching it, Sara felt a greasy residue.
She
’
d been right about the oilcloth; whale or seal fat, maybe.
“
How is this not decomposed?
All of it should be rotted away after a thousand years in the ground.
”
She lifted the bundle out.
Faith set the empty box on the tent floor.

Sara laid the bundle on the table, then unwrapped it, holding her breath.
She turned back the final corner of canvas.
She and Faith gasped in unison.

It gleamed, even in the diffuse light of a low lantern.
The sword blade reached almost three feet.
In utter defiance of its age, it bore a mirror shine.
The hilt
’
s grip sparkled with inlaid brass and copper bands.
The pommel bore another inset of copper.
Then Sara noticed the gently curving guards at the base of the hilt.
“
Serpent heads,
”
whispered Faith.

Sara brushed her fingers along the hand guard.

The amulet sizzled under her shirt.
With a yelp, she snatched her hand back and grappled with the necklace, pulling it out and holding it away from her body.
“
It burned me!
”

Brows aloft, Faith laid one hand on the sword and, ignoring Sara
’
s objection, touched a finger to the amulet.
Hissing, she took her hands away from both objects.
“
Not burning...buzzing.
That
’
s what I felt when I was searching for the sword and holding your hand.
I felt it through
you
.
They
’
re connected somehow.
”

Sara pulled the neck of her shirt down.
Her skin bore no burn marks.
“
You
handle the sword.
I
’
m not touching it again.
”

“It’s almost angry,” Faith murmured. “I’ve never felt an object express emotion before.” She folded the canvas back over the sword, then picked the bundle up. “I need to take this back to my tent and try to reach Hakon. With any luck, he’ll tell us what to do with it now that we have it.” She bent and placed the wrapped sword back in its box.

“
What about the hole at the dig?
Someone
’
s bound to notice in the morning and start guessing.
”

Faith frowned and shoved the box under her sister
’
s cot.
“
We
’
ll have to refill it.
”

“
I used almost everything I had.
There
’
s no way I can rebuild that wall.
”

Retrieving her shovel, Faith unzipped Sara
’
s tent door.
“
Then we
’
ll make it look like it collapsed.
Grab a shovel.
”

Thunder rumbled as they left the tent.
Through the driving rain, Sara spied an approaching figure.
She shouted a warning.
Faith swung the shovel.

Her adversary caught it by the shaft, and its arc stopped short.
Lightning speared the sky, throwing Ian
’
s features into sharp relief.
“
We have a problem.
Becky
’
s at my tent.
”

“
What?
”
Sara peered over her sister
’
s shoulder at him.
Alarm raced to every nerve in her body.

Ian let go of Faith
’
s shovel.
“
Becky.
At my tent.
I need your boat keys.
”

“
Are you okay?
She didn
’
t—
”

“
I
’
m fine,
”
he responded.
“
She, on the other hand, needs a hospital as fast as she can get there.
”

Faith lowered her shovel.
“
What happened?
”

“
I have no idea.
I
’
m lucky I didn
’
t shoot her when she burst into my tent.
She
’
s been burned pretty bad, but she won
’
t say how it happened.
We
’
re losing time talking.
”

Faith glanced at Sara.
“
Have you got the strength left to get Ian back to his camp?
”

Sara hesitated.
“
I
’
m almost finished as it is.
Any shapeshift big enough to carry him wouldn
’
t last long enough.
”

“
Are you hurt?
”
Ian turned to Faith.
“
What happened?
”

“
She
’
s tapped, and me, almost so.
We
’
ve used too much of our power at once.
Sara, can you get yourself there?
Will you be able to drive the boat?
”

Uneasily, Sara glanced southward, into the darkness.
“
A sparrow,
”
she murmured,
“
if I can fly in this wind.
”

“
All right, go,
”
said Faith.
“
Ian, I need you.
Take her shovel and come with me.
I
’
ll explain everything.
”

Ian looked back at Sara.
Another bolt of lightning sizzled above, and she saw worry on his face.
He laid a hand against her cheek and kissed her, brief and fierce.
An ache just as fierce rushed through her.
“
Come back safe.
”
He pulled the shovel from her hand and headed away with Faith.

She stared after him for a few seconds before realizing she was wasting time.
Later.
She would think about that look on his face later, because it had almost looked as if he didn
’
t want to let her out of his sight.

She sprang back into her tent long enough to douse the lantern, snatch her boat keys from the table, and stuff them in her pocket.
Back outside, she called on the sparrow.
For a few agonizing moments, she grappled to hold onto even that small demand on her power.
The shape came in a flash that surprised her.
She took off into the storm, fearful that she would lose the shape now that she had it.

The storm railed around her, hammering the small bird
’
s body with merciless power.
She flew low, but even the lesser winds close to the ground forced her to fight for every inch of distance.
She lost hold of the shapeshift fifty feet from Ian
’
s tent.
Sara slipped out of the sparrow
’
s shape and into her human one, tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain.
She rolled to her feet and stumbled the rest of the way, then opened the tent door, dreading what she
’
d find.

Becky lurched off Ian
’
s cot and shrank back against the rear wall of the tent.
She grappled for the rifle leaning against the table.

“
Whoa, whoa!
”
Sara held up her hands and staggered into the tent.
“
I
’
m here to help.
I
’
m taking you to the hospital—
”
She ground to a halt as her gaze landed on Becky
’
s face.
Three blistering, russet burn marks crossed the redhead
’
s cheekbone.
Another burn glared from her opposite forearm, blackish and peeling.
“
Oh, my God.
”

Instead of speaking, the young woman dropped the rifle with a thump and began to cry.
She fumbled for the bandage that had fallen to the cot and tried to rewrap her arm.

Moving closer, Sara took Becky
’
s chin in one gentle hand and turned it to see the burns on her cheek better.
“
This looks like...finger marks.
”
With her mind spinning, she glanced down at the woman
’
s arm.
“
What happened to you?
”