“Who's Cam?” Allie's voice squeaked as she looked uneasily back and forth between us.
“Cam was my brother,” Matthew said. He kept staring at me, his gaze so dark that I knew I didn't want to see what would happen if his anger ever did slip beyond his control.
“Oh,” Allie breathed softly. Then, just as soft, “You don't have any teachers in your town, do you?”
“No,” I told her.
“Yes,” Matthew said. I glanced back again—what teachers?—but this time he ignored me. “Not the sort of teachers you have, though,” he told Allie.
Allie nodded soberly, as if that explained a lot. I started walking again, faster than before. A moth fluttered past me, bright wings vibrating. Rebecca lifted her head and reached for it, but her hand passed right through.
The moth flickered out. Rebecca smiled as if she were an ordinary baby. My throat felt suddenly dry.
The road narrowed further. I stopped abruptly.
Ahead of us tree shadows crossed the road, weaving themselves into a net and filling the way with darkness.
Chapter 13
I turned around. The way behind was dark, too. The only light seemed to be the twilight around us, which was already fading to gray. Matthew fumbled with the plastic torch. It flared to life, producing a wide beam of light. That should have dispelled the shadows nearest us, but they drew closer to the light, as if for warmth.
“Ow!” A length of shadow lashed at Allie's arm. She jerked back. Blood soaked through a jagged gash in her sleeve. She pressed her hand against it, muttering words I hadn't thought she knew.
Another shadow snaked around the torch. The torch sizzled like wet firewood, flickered, and went out. Around us, trees began to groan. Something cold slashed my cheek, breaking skin. “Go away!” I shouted.
The shadows drew back. The trees fell silent. The twilight brightened around us.
Matthew drew a breath. “Keep saying it, Liza. Just— keep saying it.”
I did so, chanting like a child afraid of the dark. “Go away.” Matthew lit the torch once more. “Go away, go away, go away.” The shadows kept their distance, staying a few dozen yards back on all sides.
Magic flows in both directions, Karin said. If I could call things to me, I could also push them back.
“Go away.” We walked on. I kept ordering the darkness back, and it kept retreating. That darkness happily would have swallowed us whole, if not for my words.
If not for my magic.
“Go away.” Rebecca shifted in her sling and reached for my hair. Allie walked as close behind me as she could, her footsteps landing where mine had been. Her braid was in her mouth again, and she chewed it as she walked. On her shoulders, Tallow hissed and swiped at something in the dark. Behind them, Matthew's movements were slower, more fluid, even as he hunched beneath the pack.
“Go away.” I prayed Matthew was right that magic could be controlled. Because my magic was all that stood between us and the dark.
We walked through the night. My voice grew hoarse as time passed. For a while the white torchlight held, much steadier than oil or burning wood.
Bluffs rose to either side of us, holding shadows of their own: a shadow arm with a dangling charm bracelet, a shadow boot kicking the air as if to get free, a shadow face staring at us from within a hillside, its mouth open as in surprise, a poplar root growing through one of its shadow eyes.
When the torchlight dimmed from white to yellow and then went out, we quickly changed the batteries in the dark while I shouted as loudly as I could to keep the trees away. My throat ached after that, and my chest, too, but I didn't stop.
“Go away.” I thought of Mom, alone in this darkness with no magic to protect her. Yet if my visions were true, somehow she'd found a way through to the Arch.
An owl hooted, but it, too, kept its distance. The moon rose, casting thin beams of light through the dark web around us. Rain began to fall, soaking my hair and turning the road to mud. That rain fell right through Rebecca and puddled beneath her in the sling. I drew the raincloak over her.
The trees started moaning again, stretching toward the water but drawing back at my words. The air grew chill, from rain or shadows, I couldn't tell. Clouds covered the moon.
“Go away.” Each word took strength. As if it weren't only my words but something deeper inside me that pushed the shadows back. I grew weary with the effort of that pushing.
Ahead, through gaps among the shadows, I saw patches of pale light.
Dawn. My legs went weak at the sight. I stumbled but kept speaking. Allie bumped into me and let out a startled cry. Rebecca started awake and made small fussy sounds.
I rocked her as I kept walking. My legs felt heavy as stone, but I didn't dare stop. The road turned north. Water carved rivulets through the mud and around patches of black rock. Each step, each word, took more work than the last. I struggled to keep my eyes open and my lips moving. “Go away.”
The rain let up. The clouds pulled apart like carded wool. Sunlight set the clouds ablaze just as our torch dimmed to yellow again. Matthew clicked it off. To the east, beyond the bluffs, light glinted off distant water.
Something else shone in the distance ahead. A silver rainbow, beginning amid the trees but arching high above them. Silver drew my gaze up and up, even as I caught my breath. Metal reflected the morning sun, far brighter than Kate's mirror. I forced my gaze away, though I yearned to keep looking upward.
“So that's the Arch,” Allie whispered.
Just like in my visions. Just like on Caleb's disk. “Mom,” I said, and tried to walk faster.
My legs wouldn't listen. It was all I could do to keep lifting first one, then the other. Rebecca's sling dug into my shoulder. The road climbed toward the top of the bluffs. Up ahead, another road met it.
This crossroads formed a larger clearing than the last. Slabs of black stone shone in the sun. I staggered as I neared its center, but no shadows of the dead reached for me from under this hill. No visions filled my sight. Ash and cypress stretched shadow branches toward us, but the clearing was too wide. The shadows couldn't reach.
I fell to my knees and let my voice go silent. Maybe I could afford to rest here, just for a moment.
Matthew knelt beside me. I leaned, trembling, into his arms, barely remembering to shield him from Rebecca with my own arms as I did. I was so very tired.
“Liza.” Matthew's arms tightened around me. He smelled of rain and wet wool. “You got us through.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.” There was still more forest and more shadow between us and the Arch. We had to keep walking. I stumbled to my feet, took a few steps, and fell again. Allie cried out. This time she and Matthew both helped me lie down.
I tried to sit up and felt Matthew's firm hand on my shoulder. “If anyone could go on it'd be you, Liza. But even you need to rest after a night like that.”
I shook my head, but when I closed my eyes, I couldn't find the energy to open them again.
“Don't worry,” Matthew said. “I'll keep watch.”
I didn't have the strength to protest any further. Yet even in sleep I felt the trail beneath my feet and saw shadows reaching for me out of the dark.
∗ ∗ ∗
I woke what seemed moments later and found the sun past noon. I shifted Rebecca's weight gently as I sat up. Her cold hand brushed my cheek.
Matthew handed me a water bottle. I drank deeply. My throat hurt when I swallowed. “Thank you.” My voice came out scratchy and dry.
“Thank you,” Matthew said. “For keeping us alive last night.”
Allie slept on a blanket beside us, her face resting on one hand. Tallow was pressed up against the girl's back with a paw tangled in her hair, which had mostly fallen out of its braid.
The tree shadows were gone now that the sun was up, and any human shadows remained beneath the earth, beyond calling or wanting to be called. This crossroads was nowhere near as bad as the other one, whether because fewer peop
le had died here or because they'd died more completely, I didn't know.
I stood, stretching my legs—and caught my breath. From the hilltop I clearly saw both River and Arch.
The River lay downslope to the east, so close I almost could have shot an arrow to it. The Mississippi—it made the Meramec look like little more than a creek. By the near shore willows trailed branches into the water. The far shore was a half mile away, maybe more. Between the banks green-brown water flowed relentlessly south, ribbons of light rippling on its surface. I stared, but no visions caught me. No magic of mine could stop this River's flow to make it reflect like metal or glass. I heard the River's murmur even from where I stood. My breathing slowed to match the sound.
The Arch lay upstream, a quarter mile north at most, towering above the trees that surrounded it. Bright as a mirror, tall as a dozen trees—sun glinted off its highest point, and I looked swiftly away. The Arch could catch me in visions without half trying, and once it caught me I wasn't sure it would let go. It had to be magic. No one could build or grow anything like that.
“Impressive, isn't it?” Matthew handed me some woodchuck and I chewed hungrily, my gaze returning to the River as I did.
Allie yawned, stood, and walked to my side. She reached for my hand. “We don't have to cross that one, do we?” Her voice sounded very small.
I shook my head. No one could cross that River, and no bridge could span it, not without the River's consent. But we didn't need to cross it. We only needed to reach the Arch. I drew Caleb's disk out and thoughtfully traced the Arch inscribed there.
“Why'd Caleb give you that, anyway?” Allie asked. “I never even knew he had it before.”
“I don't know.” That was one of my questions for Mom when I found her. Not my first question, though. My first question was why she'd left me in the first place.
“Come on,” I said. “We should go while the sun's high.”
Matthew, Allie, and Tallow followed me across the clearing and down the other side of the hill. Huge bluffs rose to the west once more, but to the east the forested land was level. Beyond the trees, the River murmured on. I found my steps drifting toward it, forced myself away, and found myself drifting again. Rebecca fidgeted uneasily.
Allie stepped right off the road, and Matthew pulled her back. Allie fought him a moment, then shook her head like a sleepwalker waking. “The River's calling me,” she said. “Just like Liza called me. It says I had no right to escape the way I did. It says I have to go back.”
Matthew growled softly and tightened his grip on her arm. I turned toward the water. “Go away,” I said as firmly as I could.
More firmly the River murmured back, Come here. Sweat trickled down my face, though the air was cool. I stepped toward the water without realizing it and drew back with effort. Rebecca started to cry, and her cries were timed to the River's flow.
Come, Liza. Let us finish what we started. In one of my daughter rivers, not so long ago, you sought my darkness.
I pushed my heels down firmly against the road. If I could keep shadows back through the long night, I could resist the River's call.
“I don't hear it,” Matthew said. But then he'd never come close to drowning, not like Allie and I.
“Watch Allie,” I told him, and I started walking again. Not toward the water. Along the road toward the Arch.
Come, Liza. Seek silence, seek darkness, seek rest.
I lifted one foot at a time, the way Father had taught me for hunting, pressing it firmly back to the ground ahead before lifting the other.
After only a couple hundred paces the road ended, leaving only forest between us and the Arch. I slowly came to a stop, ignoring Rebecca's cries as she grabbed at a lock of my hair. The Arch was very close now, and very bright. I craned my neck to glance at the top of it.
Its legs were hidden by trees, but they must have been hundreds of feet apart, as far apart as the Arch was tall.
Beside me Matthew kept hold of Allie's hand. Tallow twined around their feet. Allie's lips were pressed tightly together, her eyes closed, as if she fought something I couldn't see. I could feel it, though, tugging at some place deep inside me. Ebb and flow, ebb and flow, one small tug after another. Come, Liza.
“We have to go through the forest,” I said. Matthew nodded.
Slowly I led the way among the trees, pressing each foot deep into the dirt as I set it down. Ash and cypress didn't seem concerned with us, though. The trees bent toward the River, moaning softly, stretching their branches downward. I yearned to turn toward the water as well, but I kept walking forward instead.
Behind me Allie screamed. Tallow bolted past. Even then I moved slowly, digging my boots into the soil before I turned my head. Matthew held Allie beneath the armpits. The girl bit and kicked, trying to get away. “It's calling!” she cried. “You don't understand. It's calling and I have to listen. I have to!”
Matthew struggled a moment to balance girl and pack. “It's all right. I won't let her go.”
I nodded and forced my attention back to my own steps. One more step. Then another. And another. I lifted my left foot out of the dirt and onto bleached stone. My right foot followed a moment later. Water lapped at more stone just a dozen yards away. A few more steps and I stood beside the base of the Arch. I kept going, walking around to its inner edge.
The air about me shimmered with sound, a low hum that muffled the River's call. Rebecca fell silent and pressed her fists against my chest. Metal shone beside me, above me—even the base of the Arch was many times wider than I was tall. The humming grew louder, echoing uncomfortably between my ears. I kept my gaze carefully to the ground, though I ached to look up. Sun and metal made me dizzy.
Allie fell silent as Matthew came up beside me. Her hands clutched his sweater, as if now she was the one who didn't want to let go. Tallow followed them, sniffing the stone suspiciously.
Come. The River's pull was weaker beneath the Arch and easier to resist. The Arch's metal surface stood only an arm's length away.
Would I find Mom on the other side of that metal? Would I find a way through at all?
I looked at Matthew. He set Allie down, and she clutched his hand even as he grabbed for her. Tallow scrambled up onto Allie's shoulders. Together Matthew, Allie, and I stepped forward, praying the way would be open and the Arch would let us through.
The metal remained metal, nothing more. I pressed it, I pounded it, but it didn't give. I drew a deep breath. Karin had said I might have to rely on my visions, but Mom had found a way through without visions, hadn't she? She'd held that veined metal disk in her hand and spoken some words.
Mom had had that disk all her life. It couldn't be magic.
I took Caleb's disk in my hand and reached out again. The metal still didn't give. If there were words I needed to speak, I didn't know them. The Arch grew bright at my gaze, as bright as a mirror and brighter still. “Lizzy,” Mom whispered. I reached for her, then drew sharply back.
And reached out again. The metal was as solid as it ever was. But a moment before—when Mom had called me—my hand had passed right through, just like Karin had said it would.
“How—” Allie said. “How did you—”
Karin had also said that if I failed, I could wander in visions forever. I glanced at Matthew and Allie. I might not be the only one trapped if something went wrong.
Matthew shrugged. “Your magic got us this far.”
I swallowed hard. “Even if I make it through, you might not be able to follow me. And even if you follow me—”
“I trust you,” Matthew said.
“You don't understand.” My fear turned to anger. “I have no idea what will happen. Even if we don't get lost in my visions, we could get stuck in the metal, or give in to the River, or wind up someplace else, who knows where—my magic could kill us all!”
“He didn't say he trusts you to know everything.” Allie twisted Matthew's sweater sleeve around her wrist, stretching it. “No one knows t
hat. You just do what you can, you know? And see what happens after that.”
I drew Rebecca close, shivering. The baby squirmed in my hold. I hadn't done all I could for her. Or else I'd done it too late. I might be too late for Mom, too.
Rebecca reached out and tugged at my hair. I looked down at her. She smiled, and I swallowed hard. Until I knew I was too late, I had to do what I could.
Matthew took my hand. His grip was steady and comforting—I focused on it as I looked into the metal, willing the visions to come. For a moment I saw only my own reflection—dark hair streaked with paler strands— and then—
Light. Light bright as moonlight, light that pulsed against my eyes. I fought not to press knuckles up against my lids. “Mom,” I called, and then, louder, “Mom!”
Fire. Fire rained from airplanes and fell toward swaying branches. Heat burned my face, like the air from Jayce's forge. Leaves gave way to flame as if they were no more than butterfly wings. Branches blazed like torches and went out. Acorns fell like rain. Berry juice stained the dirt and evaporated in the hot, dry wind. Trees moaned as they died, like wind before a storm—
Fire mushroomed up from the earth, swallowing men and women with clear hair and silver eyes, so fast they made no sound. Ash fell to the ground for miles around, silent as snow. No bone or branch remained—
Farther from the fire, a few black trunks survived, jutting like splinters from the earth. Caleb—why always Caleb?—walked through the dead land, his face grim. He approached a burning lake, stepped into the water, and disappeared—
My mother walked through the dead land, her cheeks streaked with ash, her head bowed like a tree in the wind. Even as I reached for her she fell to her knees. Her face shone orange, lit by flames. I shut my eyes, retreating into darkness. Wind burned the back of my neck—
“Liza,” Matthew said, still holding my hand. His voice sounded dry and hoarse. Heat burned my face. The air smelled of ash and dead trees.