Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

Stepping Stones

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Provinces
Sandia
Aquamarine (March) 17

The group was several paces behind Foy when they started moving again, yet not a word was spoken until they’d gone some way. Relic had fallen naturally into the center of the group while Jace took point: All eyes were on him until his breath shifted and his shoulders relaxed.

But his eyes were like coals – as if he had discovered something all but unimaginable.

He did not even glance aside at the paintings or the wall-mounted torches illuminating them.

Now, he swore, he could hear the ticking within the cloaks of both of their guides.

They came to a T-junction where the door dead ahead had been decorated with a ripe pineapple, casually skewered by a brass blade that held it in place. It was sweet and pungent, but had not yet begun to rot. Its smell mingled with flowering vines like the ones at Sandia’s gates.

Isabelle gulped back a laugh as she noticed the griffon statue standing watch at the door.

Someone gave this one a little hat.

“When you’re done, you’ll find your weapons and supplies in your rooms: 223 through 226. Yes, that includes the cloaks and whatnot we found at Ali and Burnhardt’s places,” Brayden said with a nod. “Your horses have been extremely well cared for and are in the stables out back.”

Isabelle let out a sigh she hadn’t known she was holding.
“Thank you,” she said, looking to each in turn. “Both of you. Very much.”

As the Outriders crossed over the threshold, Foy signaled them to look out below. Instantly, they noticed the intricate shapes chalked over the floorboards. Sinuous spirals wended their way up the doorframe, hidden by the vines. Knowing without knowing, they stepped around.

Only Isabelle stopped, her eyes unfocused for the briefest moment.
It was Cedwyn, coming up behind her, who tried to brace her shoulders—

She snapped out of the instant they touched, glanced up at him with wide eyes—

And punched his arm. Hard.

“Ow!” Cedwyn yelped – and then signed silently: What was that for?
She said nothing, crossing the threshold first in line. Cedwyn followed.

“You do that?” Gabriel asked Brayden, indicating the sigils with a sweep of his hand.

“It was all Irick’s work,” Brayden answered. Gabriel nodded slowly, adjusting his hat.

“That’s some really good form, boy. You might actually get the hang of this someday.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” said Irick, before glancing over his shoulder. “Hey!” He reached out to stop Jace and Relic. “You oughta know, the plumbing and the heating stones are working, even if most of town ... well, isn’t. You’ll want a hot shower by now. I-it’s the Outrider way, isn’t it?”

“Once the mission is over,” Jace acknowledged. “Something tells me this one isn’t.”

“In that case, gods alone know when you’ll get to wash up,” Brayden said with a grin.

“We’ll give that some thought,” Jace mused, but it sounded like he wouldn’t.

“Reckon we’ll take our leave, then. Maybe see you below when you’ve done.”

Brayden plucked the cigar from his mouth and raised a hand to bid farewell. Irick smiled silently.

Before they could turn the corner, Jace called after them.

“Hey, Irick!” The unexpected sound made both men turn to face him. “I didn’t mean that whole two-bit outlaw crap. I have a habit of saying stupid shit, especially when I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s obvious what you all are doing here is special and important, and thank you both very much for all you’ve done.” He blinked once, pointed at them. “I mean that.”
Perhaps they both realized that Jace could not have known what was going on.
Perhaps that made his words matter all the more.
Whatever the case, Irick’s mouth dropped open.
From just behind, Relic saw that un-nameable something take hold in the two. They wouldn’t know quite what to say about the Outriders, not tonight. But when they looked back, in tonight’s taproom chats or in weeks to come, they would remember Jace Dabriel the best.
Somehow, that’s how it always worked.
Relic turned toward the door – 222 – and left the ticking behind him.
He was surprised to find the door did not lead directly into an inn room, but to a sort of foyer where the occupant’s guests could wait in comfort. The chalk-marks continued all through the hall and across the floor. By the end, getting past them was almost like hopscotch.
Chalk lines swirled like tentacles leading out from a big rectangular painting.
The gilt of the frame had faded, but the browns and reds of the deep desert were surely as bright as the day they had been painted. In the midst of the trackless wasteland, centered in both the painting and the crazy whorl of chalk, a massive ziggurat stretched into a crimson sky.
The Ziggurat of Ur, Relic thought, an instant before he read the plaque at the bottom.
It was precisely the same as the one he had seen earlier in the booksh—
... had he seen it in the bookshop? The more he tried to remember, the harder it was.
No. There was no painting in the bookshop, he told himself. And again: No painting.
The nagging feeling in the back of his mind gave way. His comrades were waiting.
Cedwyn and Isabelle had gone deeper within; there was no doubt they’d been talking—
Isabelle flashed a small, enigmatic smile, and Cedwyn greeted him with an upward nod.
It was a few moments later when Jace entered, stepping aside to let Gabriel pass in turn.
The elder Outrider placed one hand on the door—
As the other withdrew a green stone that lay on the end of a chain like a pocket-watch.
It was the same green as his own eye.
A green that filled the whole world in a flash.
***
As the green radiance receded, it left behind a darkened room like a benighted shore.
The first thing they noticed in that room was the pair of green eyes gazing at them.
Even Relic could hardly pierce the gloom, but that flutter of motion, that flash of presence, those were things Outriders understood instinctively. They had the strange sensation of snapping their attention on it at the same instant – and coming to the same conclusions almost as fast.
The eyes narrowed and the thing favored them with a big, pink yawn displaying tiny fangs.
Foy’s rangy body was bent forward in the tentative light of a little spark; the first touch of fire on a fresh candle. As the flame took, it began to burn yellow – then settled into a watery, pale color. The candleholder, too, sat within a gentle circle of chalk runes.
Foy brought his face up to the wick, holding the candlelight in his gaze a moment—
Then snuffed out the fire-starter with a big, callused thumb and turned to his guests.
“Please, have a seat. Mind you don’t tread on Rathyost. Or anything else, for that matter.”
An overstuffed couch sat sedately at the end of the room. The Outriders helped themselves, not needing to coordinate at all before Jace and Isabelle settled in the center with Relic on Jace’s far side. Cedwyn leaned back against the couch-arm, closest to Foy.
“Tea?” asked Foy, raising the cup he’d poured himself in the interim.
“I’ll have some,” said Relic, and then remembered himself: “Please.”
“Very well,” said Foy, handing the cup over to Relic. As Foy turned to pour himself another, Relic pressed his palms against the pewter and was gratified to feel how warm it was. He had not noticed steam or heard the whistle of a kettle, and yet—
“Would you like to wash your hands?” Foy asked.
Relic recoiled before realizing the old man was not making fun of him.
“No, thank you,” said Relic, letting himself sink further into the sofa’s plush folds. He ignored Jace’s glance, closing his eyes and savoring the first sip of tea, but he never stopped listening.
Had he been watching, he would have seen that Foy was just as slow, just as intent. The tea was strong, yet subtle: A creamy emerald green. Sprinkles of some unknown, sweet spice danced lazily within. Foy spooned some fresh red honey from a mason jar before his first gulp.
He suddenly looked very old. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
His strength gathered, he spoke in a measured, resonant voice.
“A storm comes. A gale for some. A blizzard for others. None other like it in winter or summer.”
They sat in silence for a long time before Jace spoke up.
“Back to speaking in riddles, old man?”
Gabriel Foy met Jace’s commanding gaze—
He whet his lips, but there was no sign he would wither under that stare.
“No,” Foy said, tone unassuming. “It’s a simple observation. Stormur figlir kyofar.”
“A storm follows in his wake,” Relic said – the characteristic too-loud whisper of a thought that had leapt unbidden from mind to mouth. “Vinish, from Winterwine.” Foy nodded tightly but said no more, lips pursing like a desert lizard. “Who does it refer to? This Valith character?”
“Aye, lad. He and his ilk are called Tears. Mark that word well and forget the synonyms your imagination entertains, if you can. “This is no matter of wyse-ards and sophists, no fable or fairy tale, but a grave threat. And if you are not very careful, a grave threat. Yes, indeed.”
Foy dropped at last into his own armchair, and Rathyost was there in an instant to rest in his lap.
“So, do me the kindness to – how do the kids say it? – keep the word wizard out of your mouth.”
Foy scratched the little calico behind the ears and it began to rumble—
At the same moment Relic felt Jace begin to boil.
“I’m sure we’re not here for a grammar lesson,” he said. “We could’ve got that from him.”
Relic knew Jace was pointing his way; he concealed his eye-roll with another sip of tea.
“Indeed not, young one. But precision is required, for it is one of the few advantages you hold over our foe. Valith is an enemy who rendered legions – your legions, if you recall – powerless. He is no less dangerous for being known to you, though the danger has changed.”
“Then tell us about it,” said Jace. “What is he? Why is he here?”
“In due time, Dabriel,” Foy said, now casually dismissive as only an old man who was set in his ways could ever be. “Funny name, Dabriel. You lot, educated by the likes of Thean, must know the origin of that name. The Angel of History stands with his face turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe, which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet.”
As the cadence of Foy’s voice drifted off, Cedwyn continued – looking down as he recited.
“The angel would like to stay and make whole what has been smashed, but a storm is blowing from Paradise. The storm blows him inevitably into a future he cannot see, while the ruin before his eyes grows ever skyward.” Cedwyn looked up to Foy. “The storm is what we call progress.”
“If you wish to know what Valith is, consider him the storm. There is raw power there we cannot match. We cannot capture the wind, but we can adjust our sails. That is why you are here.” Foy’s one green eye glinted in the candlelight. “If we are to endure, Jaden must reach Bryce Valley.”
“Operation Sunstone,” Isabelle breathed.
“Well, yes,” said Foy. “I wanted to call it Cornerstone, personally, but what can you do?”
“If he’s coming,” said Relic, “why not make a stand against him here? Couldn’t Jaden ...”
“Absolutely not,” said Foy, cutting him off so harshly Rathyost looked up. “You cannot imagine what it is you ask for and you do not wish to. But if you must try,” he added, exasperated by the unspoken question he saw on every face, “envision a hundred Fairlawns. A thousand.”
Relic let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“I see.”
“Such battles once shaped the world, and there’s no telling how it might be reshaped if they were fought again today. No, my friends, that outcome we must avoid above all others. The course you will take was cleared for you months ago – in some ways, years ago.”
Foy raised his hand from Rathyost’s soft flank and the candle’s flame began to rise.
“Before the enemy set its sights on Fairlawn, a man named Burnhardt Stone led a group of his fellow Sandians to Telminster – to the steps of the capital. It was said to be a protest march.”
The candle flame stretched toward Foy’s palm and grew, painting a vision of multicolored fire in which the stern, careworn face of Burnhardt Stone could be plainly seen, his fellows at his back.
Isabelle’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent oh of surprise—
But Relic sat up straight and tense, putting his teacup aside.
“In truth, Burnhardt was there to deliver an artifact: The Horn of Chobin. That horn came to him from the royal treasury of Sindell, where it, in turn, had been deposited by Valith himself.”
The flicker flames formed a visage all of cruel, sharp edges; cold, even rendered in flame.
“Naturally, Sandia has many grievances with Telminster to choose from. With this ruse, it was a small matter for a man of Burnhardt’s experience to get the horn to a dear friend: Alarick Dale.”
As Foy half-closed his hand, Jace Dabriel saw Alarick’s unmistakable smirk etched in flame.
The other Outriders were looking his way.
“Fairlawn Bazaar,” Jace snorted. “My ass.”
Foy tightened his hand into a fist and the fire winked out. With delicate care, he lifted the little calico and deposited it on the floor before striding to the window. This he threw open, letting in a stream of light from the torches set up outside.
“It was not so long thereafter that lauded barrister – eldest son of my best friend, may I add – began his long game of regicide against Valith, the so-called demon of the four winds.” Foy closed his eyes tight as if fighting against a sudden headache. “Full of hot air that he is.”
Slowly, Foy paced back across the room.
“What you most need to know, to have the utmost faith in, is this: Without that meeting, without Aleister Duchenne, Jace and Relic would not have been the exact right people, in the exact right place, at the exact right time, under the exact right circumstances to do what had to be done.”

Relic’s mind whirled with the possibilities as he listened—

“... and you can trace those events back and back and back,” said Foy. “As you no doubt will. But that must wait. We, all of us, have our roles to play in this. We are all pieces in this game, on this board. All actors in this series of … Acts.”
Relic could hold his tongue no longer: “Are you a Tear?”

Foy laughed a long, joyous cackle.

“There are no words for what I’ve become. In this, or any other language you care to search, Librarian.” Suddenly, fluidly, Foy drew eye-to-eye with Relic. “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you? You’ve read too much. I can see it in your eyes already.”

“I have taken all knowledge to be my providence,” Relic quoted.

“That’ll bring you nothing but misery,” Foy said with a smile—

And he was about to turn away; but then he stopped short—

“Huh,” said Foy, tipping just that much nearer, so that his own eyes took up all of Relic’s vision – as if he, the old man, could find something yet hidden in the younger’s face. “And yet you’ve overlooked the first lesson you ought to have learned: As above, so below. The disease you fought down beneath is no ordinary ailment: It is a symptom of the disease we are all fighting.”

Foy continued pacing, always stepping over the chalk lines on the floor without ever looking.

“The spirit of the world grows sick – and as goes the spirit, so too goes the body.”

Now he drew a pocket-watch, letting it catch the faint light from outside.

“There are places in this world that have been distorted through the machinations in Westwood and others.” His back was turned to the Outriders, but he raised the timepiece a little higher. “Yes, Relican, it is one of your father’s – the name of the Stopwatch Gang is his doing. Because only the watches he made keep ticking in those places, those times without time.”

He turned to face them all again, the pocket-watch jigging between gnarled hands.

“That was his power, his – shall we say, nature – and it is one of the gifts he has passed to you. For each one of you: Your birth, your history, your choices. These were not coincidences, but they aren’t fate. You must decide what they mean, and that choice will come soon.”

Foy stretched out his aching back, then returned to settle in his chair once more. The Outriders were silent, each in thought so private they would not have shared them even with each other.

“You oughtn’t be so hard on my boys, either. Thieves, yes. But we are all God’s thieves – living on borrowed time. You boys borrowed some, quite well – a fancy feat for one named Dabriel – but now, together, we must seize the moment once more. And it shall make all the difference.”

Instinctively, Cedwyn pulled his own pocket-watch free and looked down—

The hands were frozen.

At Foy’s will, once again, time had come to a stop.

Of course, Cedwyn thought, hiding a sour smirk best he could. This is the calm before the storm.

“Valith has scoured Sandia in search of the Communion Vault of Time. Were he to lay his hands on it ...” Foy glanced up as if seeking the answer. “... some hope would remain, but it would lie at the end of a long, miserable, desperate struggle. One in which the enemy knows every plan – and not only that, but every secret thought, every longing of the heart. Such is the power of the Vault that, with his will, it could render all the world like Westwood Forest.”

Cedwyn finally, slowly dragged his attention away from the stopped watch.

“How long?” he asked; and to Foy’s bland look his way: “How long were we in Westwood?”

“Best ask your friend Calloway,” Foy said. He held Cedwyn’s gaze, willing him to relent. When the younger man did not, Foy responded: “Many, many years. More than you’ve been alive.”

“A century? Longer?”

“What matters is,” Jace broke in. “We’re alive here and now.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Foy with a sudden, weary smile.

“Were you not here in Sandia, Valith would have the advantage in seeking the Vault. But: The chance to confront the Outriders, those few who blazed a trail through his net, is more than he can resist. That is his nature.”

“You know that for a fact?” said Cedwyn.

“I know him well enough,” Foy answered. “As principles follow postulates, so too the thoughts of our neighborhood wind demon.” The elder relished a long blink and a slow smile, looking at Relic to say: “Am I speaking your language now, young man?”

Relic nodded tightly. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Good. I hoped so.” Foy brought a hand up to his mouth to clear his throat – and had the decency to look a little abashed when he admitted: “Even if he weren’t so predictable, it has gotten easier since I took the liberty of letting him know you’re here.”

Jace was about to rocket to his feet—

But his feet had barely touched the floor when Rathyost leapt into Isabelle’s lap.

Diverted by the sudden shift, Jace sat down heavily. Isabelle drew the cat into her arms and began to stroke its ears; the little beast looked to Jace, its gaze sedate and contented.

“The wisdom of cats,” said Foy. “In war, as in politics, timing is everything.” Foy paused to appreciate the sight of an Outrider, Isabelle, showing such tenderness – yet not swayed from the task at hand. “Valith is mightier than any one of us, but he will not miss the chance to seek out those who made a fool of him. That shall give me – and the boys – the chance we need.”

“The chance to do what?” said Jace.

“To end him.”

Relic broke in: “So the fight to protect Sandia is a diversion.”
“Excuse me?” said Foy.

“We’re nothing more than an elaborate form of bait,” Relic continued. “You plan to have us run – with the only person who can face this enemy head-on – so he chases us into a trap. Is that it?”

For the first time, Foy looked aggravated. He dragged his palm slowly over his face.

“I have done my best here, my sincerest best, to grant you some semblance of perspective into what we are dealing with. I have done this in the hopes that you might appreciate the history …” A wry look crossed his weathered face. “... that led us to this moment.”

“There’s one thing you’re forgetting,” said Relic. And when he looked over, an ashen-faced Jace was already facing him. “We saw what will happen if ... if we follow through with this plan.”

“I’m sorry?” said Foy.

“You sh—” Jace started to say, but Relic spoke over him.

“Jaden showed us what will become of this town. Above and below ... no one here survives.”

Relic held Foy’s gaze a long time before raising his eyebrows in a silent, emphatic question.

“It would have been best had she not. For, the river of time notwithstanding, there’s nothing you can do. The lives of the people here are in their own hands, and the odds are not in their favor.”

“You plan to sacrifice them?” Jace demanded.

“We’ll do the best we can, of course.”

“We ... we struggled with them for three days. We saved them,” Jace said—

An almost pleading note in his voice that made Isabelle draw subtly closer.

“And every moment of life is a treasure,” said Foy, “for as long as it lasts.”

A jag of wet coughing stopped him, and he patted his upper chest with his fist.

The Outriders looked to one another in stunned silence.
“But understand this. Even Jaden does not know the specific details of this plan. It was imperative that none, not even she, be placed in the position of being so compromised. Even in Westwood, in the effort to reach you, she fell again and again.”

Jace and Relic thought of the strange wagon and the dead woman.

Eyes wide, Jace addressed Foy in a tone filled with awe:

“Professor Marvelous?”

“Marvel, yes,” said Foy, his smile returning with an odd quirk; none of them could name that emotion, but it reminded them more of the cat than of someone like Thean. “One of many masks. Used and then discarded, but not lightly. Great pains were taken to keep Valith and Irenus from seeing through our disguises. But if Jaden were compromised again, she may be lost.”

Foy let out a long, deep sigh as he saw Jace and Relic look to one another again.

“We have only just met, Outriders, but believe me: I have always been with you.”

Foy stood and made a beckoning gesture. Without a second thought, Jace and Relic stood.

“It is no small matter to be burdened with knowledge as you two are. It was not my intent for Jaden, in her – courageous hope – to burden you further by showing you what she did. But perhaps it is best that you know the seriousness of that burden.”

He rested a hand on Relic’s shoulder, but went on speaking to both.

“This day will serve you well when the time comes to face what’s still forbidden to you.”

In Foy’s eyes, Relic saw himself.

“Your place is not here. For all we have done, I must ask you ... I beg you ... I order you to go.”

Jace saw someone else entirely.

“Outriders, on me,” said Jace Dabriel.

In the blink of an eye, the other Outriders had taken their places around him.

“Be ready to depart,” he told them, never dropping Foy’s gaze. “At oh-five hundred.”

Relief flickered, though only briefly, on Gabriel Foy’s craggy face.

“Aut inveniam viam aut faciam,” he intoned, and clasped Jace’s arm in the Outrider salute.

“Aut inveniam viam aut faciam,” answered all of the Outrider Point Team in one voice.

There was nothing more to say, but still much to be done.

Chapter Twenty-One  (E) Long Shot #2190516 by Dan Hiestand