The Stone Key by Isobelle Carmody
“I did not let you leave. I deliberately drove you away and only then discovered that I had sent the sun into exile. I love you.”
I felt her shock reverberate through our merged aura, and a wave of hot dazzling red suffused the ice blue. “You…discovered that you loved me after I left?”
Dardelan laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, and bruised purple ran through the golden aura. “I was dazzled by the fire in you when you were nothing but a child, as sweet and golden and full of stings as fresh honeycomb. You shone like a flame before my eyes. I went about my duties, turning my eyes resolutely away from you, but I seemed to see the afterimage of your face and form everywhere. Maybe it was because you made such a strong impression when you were still a child full of tantrums and willful pride that I failed to perceive that you had grown into a woman. Only after you rode away from Sutrium did I see you clearly, and when I thought of your last words to me, I was shamed. But even amid the shame, I felt pride in the lovely dignity you had shown. I knew I must come to you and beg your forgiveness.”
“My mother told me that you came here to ask the tribes for the sacred ships,” Bruna said in a stony voice, but I could feel that she was trembling from head to toe.
“I had made up my mind to come here the first moment I could, within a day of your departing Sutrium. But I am high chieftain, and I could not leave on the eve of the great ruse. As Jakoby’s daughter, you understand that a leader has a duty to those he leads that he must set above his own desires. My duty took me to the west coast, but then Gwynedd asked your mother to bear him to Norseland, and Rushton asked your mother to bring us here afterward. My duty required me to go with them, but I rejoiced, for there was nowhere else I desired more to visit. I was determined to find you and speak with you before I left the desert lands. But then…last night I heard some tribesmen speak of this hunt…One talked of hunting you and I…” He broke off and laughed, looking all at once younger. “I was filled with jealousy, and I put a stone into the bowl with your name upon it. I feared I would lose you to your unknown Sadorian suitor, and I knew it would serve me right, for I had been a fool and did not deserve you. Yet here we stand.” Dardelan took a deep breath. “And now all that remains is for you to tell me whether the love you once felt for me is utterly quenched, or whether there is a spark I can fan to life.”
Bruna gave a choked laugh, and her icy aura blazed hot red-bronze. “My love for you could as easily be extinguished as the sun!”
“Then you will be hunted?” There was humility and overwhelming relief in Dardelan’s soft question, but now his aura blazed red and gold, like flame, and even though Bruna could not see it, she swayed back, as if from heat.
“I was caught long ago by this hunter, my ravek,” she whispered, and she stepped forward and spread her long fingers on Dardelan’s chest. He stood immobile for a moment, and then he groaned and gathered her to him.
I wrenched my spirit form from Bruna, mortified to have eavesdropped on her and Dardelan, yet deeply touched by what I had seen and heard. This desert land was a fruitful place for love, I thought, perhaps because there was a nakedness to its bare undulant beauty that demanded truth. Suddenly I longed for Rushton to come to me. I was tempted to farseek him, but I resisted, knowing that he, too, had a duty to fulfill.
The lemon light of sunrise was now filtering through the tent, but perversely, I fell asleep at last. Instead of sinking into dreams, my spirit was so enlivened by what I had witnessed between Dardelan and Bruna that it rose, and all at once I was on the dreamtrails. All about me, the world was a shifting mass of shadow and light, waiting for me to summon up a memory or a dream to give it shape. But before I could do anything, a shadow fell over me, chilling me.
“ElspethInnle must not seek the dreamtrails alone,” said Maruman, appearing in his tyger spirit form beside me, tail snaking.
“I did not exactly choose to come here,” I sent, exasperated.
“ElspethInnle must choose not to come here,” Maruman responded sharply. “Return to your body, for the old Ones summon you to the mountains.”
I stared at him, wondering if this was the summons I had spent half my life awaiting, the moment in which the Seeker set off on the dark road. But then I realized it was impossible, for the ships would not journey to the Red Land for many months, and no one yet knew if the Sadorians would agree to take part in the expedition at all.
“Why?” I asked.
“Maruman does not know. The old One’s voice said that ElspethInnle must return at once to Obernewtyn. The old One’s voice was very weak.”
I shivered, suddenly remembering Atthis’s voice inside my mind when I had been trying to hold Rushton back from the mindstream. She had bidden me release Rushton lest I perish with him. I had refused and had begged her to help me.
“There will be a price,” Atthis had warned.
“I will pay it,” I had sworn desperately.
“It is not you who will pay,” Atthis had answered.
All at once I was aware of the formless matter about me, darkening.
“ElspethInnle must leave the dreamtrails,” Maruman sent urgently, looking up, ears flat to his skull. I looked up and saw that the unformed matter of the dreamtrails had not darkened but that something enormous was circling overhead, casting a vast black shadow.
“What is it?” I asked, aware of an unfocused malevolence emanating from it.
“The Destroyer seeks ElspethInnle,” Maruman answered. “Fly before it sees you!”
I obeyed instantly, leaping from the dreamtrail and letting myself fall like a stone. I fell so fast that rather than waking, my spirit form shredded and dissipated as I sank into the depths of my own mind. Before I could shield myself, a dream snared me.
It was a queer dream, for although it felt like a true dream, it could not have been so, for in it, Matthew was running along the tunnel that had appeared repeatedly in my dreams for as long as I could remember. It was filled with a thick, yellow mist, and through it, I saw the dull regular flashing of the yellow light and heard the familiar dripping of water into water.
“Elspeth?” Matthew called urgently. “Elspeth?”
There was no answer but his own voice whispering my name back to him over and over, growing softer and softer, until it faded into a barely audible sibilance.
I slipped free of the dream, but as I rose to wakefulness, I heard the infinitely mournful howl of a wolf.
I opened my eyes to sunlight and Rushton smiling down at me. He might have been a dream summoned by my longing, save for the utter weariness in his jade-green eyes and the mottled bruises that marred his face.
“You were with Bram all night?” I asked.
He yawned and lay down beside me with a heartfelt sigh. “A good bit of it. I know what I am to say now, but the way of speaking gadi is so difficult. I feel as if my tongue has been turned inside out. I fear that I will never manage to speak it well enough to be understood.” He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and yawned again. “These last few hours I was with Gwynedd and Daffyd; he said he had spoken to you.”
I nodded. “Do you think he is right about Salamander being Sadorian? Do Bram or Jakoby know?”
“I spoke of it to Bram, and he says that if the tribe leaders accept Daffyd’s argument, it will definitely make a difference, though he believes it is only a matter of time before the tribes agree to participate in the expedition.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. Then I remembered the dreamtrails: Atthis bidding me through Maruman to return to Obernewtyn immediately; the Destroyer shadowing my dreams. “I must return to Obernewtyn,” I thought, and then realized I had said the words aloud.
Rushton’s smile faded. “You are serious?”
I looked into his green eyes, trying to think how to explain why I had to go without speaking of my quest and without lies. But before I could speak, he sighed and the tension in his body seemed to flow away as he reached out to cup my cheek. “You have had a premonition?”
It would have been so easy to nod and leave it at that, but it was hard to lie to him. Yet I might as well have lied, for while I dithered, he took my silence for an answer, saying, “Gwynedd has asked Jakoby to take us all to Sutrium, to drop Dardelan, Daffyd, and Brydda there before going on to leave Gwynedd and his people ashore at Murmroth’s Landing. He is hoping that by the time we get to Sutrium, Shipmaster Helvar will have sent word with the Stormdancer to agree to take part in this expedition. If that is so, it will mean all parties concerned will be in one place, and the opportunity to have a proper meeting to plan it all out is too important to miss. I feel I must go along for this reason. But that is not the only reason. There is so much that can be achieved now, while the Land and the Westland are being forged anew, that will better the lot of Misfits.”
He was thoughtful for a moment. Then he continued. “Gwynedd has the notion that we ought to set up some Misfit schools in the Westland and upon Norseland to allow anyone who might have Talent to be tested and to seek training locally, rather than being forced to travel all the way to Obernewtyn. And both he and Dardelan are speaking of there being two beasts apiece on each Council of Chieftains. There will be opposition from the likes of Brocade, of course, but if the practice can be introduced in the Westlands, it will be hard for him to make a strong case. Besides, did not beasts play a vital part in our battle for freedom? Brydda is longing to return to Sutrium to tell Sallah, and I want Guildmaster Gevan to know so he can raise the matter with the Beastguild as soon as possible. Also, you will need to ask Roland to appoint some healers to travel to the Westland to help establish healing centers in the cloisters. Of course, there is still much to be done before the Westland is secure.”
Suddenly he laughed sheepishly. “What I am trying in my long-winded way to tell you is that although I meant to ask you to come with me aboard the Umborine, it being nearly impossible to imagine being parted from you so soon after all that has happened, in truth I would be glad to know that you were at Obernewtyn. Do you know the meaning of this premonition? Is it Dragon’s disappearance? Or Angina?”
“I do not know why I must go back,” I said truthfully. “Only that I must and immediately.”
He sighed. “Well and good. Yet it is hard to let you go, and the coast road is no pleasant afternoon ride.”
“I have been along it before, and Gahltha will not stumble,” I said, utterly relieved not to face disappointment or anger, or worse, hurt at my announcement that I would return at once to Obernewtyn.
“When would you leave?”
“As soon as I have provisions for the journey. If I must go, then I might as well be gone swiftly.”
He sat up, and I did the same, noting dark circles under his eyes. “I feel as if I have been away from you for years and that I have only just found you again, and now we must part.”
“We are not only ourselves and our desires,” I said. “You are the chieftain of Obernewtyn and leader of the Misfits, and I am…” I stopped, shattered at the realization that I had almost named myself the Seeker.
“You are mine whatever else you are and wherever you go,” Rushton said with an intensity that made me want to weep. I kissed him softly and would have drawn back, but his arms closed fiercely about me and the kiss deepened, drawing us both to passion’s breathless edge. Finally, he broke away, his breathing ragged. “If you would go, then you must go now, for I am not made of stone.”
His words summoned to my mind an image of the strange stone sword that Kasanda had left me, which the overguardian of the Earthtemple had called the key to all things.
Rushton touched my lips, drawing my mind and heart back to him. “You have left me already,” he said. His eyes were sad.
“I may leave you, but my heart has ever been in your keeping,” I whispered, and this time I drew the Chieftain of Obernewtyn into a fierce embrace and rained kisses on him as I had so often longed to do until he laughed in delight and gave me kiss for kiss.
EPILOGUE
“THE RAIN SMELLS of the sea,” Gahltha sent.
“I/Maruman hate the rain,” sent the old cat, sinking his claws into my shoulder to let me know that he blamed me for the weather.
I looked up into the brooding cloud-filled sky and thought of the enormous beast that had flown over Maruman and me, emanating malice on the dreamtrails the night before I had left Sador. The Destroyer, Maruman had named it, yet what had he truly meant? Ariel was far away in the Red Queen’s land, but my communication with Matthew had shown me that it was possible to reach someone over such an impossible distance. Yet Ariel had never taken such a form before. He had only ever been himself, even if he had occasionally projected a younger version of himself.
My eyes sought the gray sea that heaved and churned far below the coast road, the black jagged rocks rising above the froth like dark fangs. I let my gaze run away to the horizon, lost in sea mist and veils of rain, thinking of the Black Ship, which was even now sailing to the Red Queen’s land, and of Salamander, its master. Was he a Sadorian? I had felt convinced, hearing Daffyd, but in truth, the man might be a Gadfian, especially if it was true that the slavemasters were Gadfians. I thought, too, of the woman who had slept in a lavish chamber in Ariel’s residence, wondering if she was Salamander’s woman or merely a woman showered with Sadorian luxuries.
In a few months, I had no doubt four ships would follow the Black Ship out into the dangerous sea. And Gahltha, Maruman, and I would be aboard, as would Rushton and Daffyd. And Dragon.
“ElspethInnle gnawing and gnawing,” Maruman complained irritably.
I laughed ruefully. “You are right, Maruman. I do gnaw horribly at things, and I wish I would stop as much as you do.”
“Soon we will come to the end of this weary/ narrow way, and we will gallop instead of plodding,” Gahltha sent.
“That gallop will help ElspethInnle, but it will give Maruman pain,” the old cat said grumpily.
“To ride swift is to arrive soon,” Gahltha sent with callous good cheer.
“I fear we cannot gallop, even if Maruman would agree to it,” I told Gahltha regretfully, thinking of the stone sword we carried, wondering again who its rightful owner was.
“Maruman wearies of this long journeying,” Maruman sent, so wistfully that I could not resist reaching up a hand to stroke his head. He stiffened but suffered the caress.
“It is not so far now,” I promised. I glanced ahead as I spoke and was startled to see the faint shapes of mountain peaks just visible through the constant haze of rain. “Look! You can see the mountains already. Our journey will be over by tomorrow morning.”
“The mountains are only the beginning of the journey,” Maruman responded, and his mindvoice now had a fey quality that sent a prickling premonition across my mind and skin.
And somewhere, a wolf howled.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was written in La Creperie in Janovského, Prague, and in The Bay Leaf, Seagrape, and Cafe 153 in Apollo Bay, Australia. Thanks to Cathy Larsen for her persistence and generosity in her quest for a new look for the Obernewtyn Chronicles and for the new map, and to Nan for being all that she is, editor and friend. Gratitude to Mallory, Nick, and Whitney for their help in bringing this book to America. And a special heartfelt thank-you to the faithful readers of this series for waiting, patiently and impatiently, for what turned out to be, after all, not quite the last book.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ISOBELLE CARMODY began the first of her highly acclaimed Obernewtyn Chronicles while still in high school. She continued writing while completing a Bachelor of Arts and a journalism cadetship. This series and her short stories have established her at the fore-front of fantasy writing in Australia and abroad.
She is the award-winning author of several novels and many series for young readers, including The Legend of Little Fur, the Gateway Trilogy, and the Obernewtyn Chronicles.
She lives with her family, and they divide their time between homes in Australia and
BOOKS BY
ISOBELLE CARMODY
THE OBERNEWTYN CHRONICLES
Obernewtyn
The Farseekers
Ashling
The Keeping Place
Wavesong
The Stone Key
The Sending
Red Queen
THE GATEWAY TRILOGY
Night Gate
Winter Door
LITTLE FUR
The Legend Begins
A Fox Called Sorrow
A Mystery of Wolves
Riddle of Green
Discover an all-new heroine in this tale of romance, suspense, and the paranormal!
Scroll down for a sneak preview of ALYZON WHITESTARR—available June 2009!
Excerpt copyright © 2009 by Isobelle Carmody Published in 2009 by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
“WHAT THE HELL is going on?” I whispered.
It was wild to imagine that thoughts and feelings could give off scents, but the more I thought of it, the less crazy it seemed. Dogs always seemed to know when you were sad, and how could they know? It had to be that they could smell your sadness because their sense of smell was much better than a human’s.
The coffee-grounds smell I experienced when I was close to Da seemed to be permanent, so maybe it came from something in his essence that didn’t change. But his pine-needle scent came and went, as did the smells of ammonia and caramelized sugar, so they might come from things he was thinking or feeling at certain moments.
I debated ringing Dr. Reed to tell her what I had figured out. But I was pretty sure I would just sound like someone who sees Martians and has this whole rational-seeming theory about why no one else can see them.
Anyway, I wasn’t sick, so why talk to a doctor? I was positive that the accident had done something to the part of my brain connected to my five senses, extending them in some way. All I had to do was to find an efficient way of controlling input before I blew a fuse.