Seeing her in black tactical gear is kind of disorienting. Low, Suarez, and Maia pull it off, of course, but Ben and Cordero look like they’re going trick-or-treating dressed up as ninjas. I remember what Daryn said yesterday—that Cordero’s handling this the wrong way. But Cordero’s smart and knows her stuff. She’ll keep a solid chain of command. That’s critical to the success of any mission. And whatever gets Bas back is what I want.
Cordero lifts her foot into the stirrup and swings up in a motion that’s exaggerated. The mare dances beneath her, and Cordero does all the right things, turning the horse in a circle. Establishing who’s boss. But I notice the mare’s quivering muscles and wide eyes. Riot makes a low sound like he disapproves, and Marcus looks at me, sending the same message.
Ben’s next, mounting up with Low holding his horse by the reins. Cordero insisted that everyone on the team take riding lessons when she first formed this team, so they’re conversant in horsemanship. Conversant. Definitely not fluent.
Finally, with Young Gandalf about to lose his mind, everyone settles in enough for Daryn to bring Shadow out. Shadow’s the last add by design, since she’s already so jumpy.
Daryn rides up from the direction of the stable. I remind myself where my head needs to be. Not on what happened last night. I’m getting Sebastian back today. If I’m lucky, I’m getting some revenge, too.
Cordero gives the signal and the posse gets moving. I’m in front until Jode takes the lead. Conquest has to be first or he gets chippy.
After a little while I turn in the saddle, checking out the group. Cordero was right. At the rear, the Arabians seem to be settling down.
In ten minutes base camp is a spot of brightness behind us, like a mirror in the sun. To the west, a small defensive military force has dug in. There’s also a larger secondary line farther back, and air support if needed. This is a precaution Cordero arranged in case the Harrows come through during our crossing. The last thing we want is more demon trouble.
We reach our designated location for entering the realm—a spot that was marked with an orange flag by someone earlier today.
Suarez leaves his horse with Low and goes to Cordero. She removes a black box from her saddlebag, and keys in a code. Suarez brings the box to Daryn, who lifts the orb from inside. The process seems too formal or ceremonious. Especially compared to last fall, when it was just me, Daryn, and the guys, running from demons and camping out in the mountains of Norway.
“Where is it?” Daryn looks from the strongbox to Cordero.
Cordero says nothing for a long moment. “It’s in your hand. You’re holding it.”
“The other piece. Where’s the shard that broke off?”
“Ben?” Cordero asks.
He shakes his head. “First I’m hearing of it.”
“You didn’t think to tell us about a broken piece?” Cordero asks Daryn.
“I guess I forgot to submit it to your agenda, since no one told me when anything was happening.”
Marcus looks at me. I know we’re thinking the same thing. Not good.
“We’ll look into it later,” Cordero says. “Will the orb still work?”
“There’s only one way to find that out.”
“Then let’s do it. We can’t delay this operation, Daryn. We have to get into the realm now.”
Daryn’s eyes flash with anger as she nods. “I understand. All these people are here. We have a schedule to keep.” She cues Shadow forward. Then something tumbles over the desert in front of her, and I realize it’s the orb.
My first thought is that she dropped it, but then it rolls into the air. Rolls up, like gravity is nothing, until it’s hovering at her eye level. Just spinning there, ten feet away.
Apparently it still works.
Someone behind me gasps as it begins to brighten and spin, unraveling. But most of us have seen this before. This is how we lost Bas—through this portal. It’s where Samrael disappeared into, too.
On that thought, I call my sword. Samrael could be waiting on the other side with his bone blades and his mind tricks, ready to attack. Jode and Marcus must have the same idea. They summon bow and scythe.
A thundering crack shreds across the desert to a flash of blinding white. Then shadows slash across the brightness, streaks of darkness and color whirling around us. Spooling with images of every kind, every thing. Howling wolves and white-sand beaches. Pigeons scattering off rooftops, comets trailing across the sky.
Jode and Marcus are beside me, but I’m seeing them through a blizzard of flash and color. Ahead, Daryn stands before a thread flowing with images of trees. I recognize them from her description—gnarled and eerie.
There’s a sudden jarring lurch and I’m moving at warp speed, sure I’ve left parts of me behind. My lungs and my thoughts. My eyes and my heart.
It’s agonizing pain, splintering pain, and I understand why Daryn called it a rift. It goes on and on, and I’m reaching my breaking point when I come back with a jolt and rock forward.
My face smashes into Riot’s neck. My teeth dig into the inside of my lip, unleashing a warm flood in my mouth.
Leaning down, I spit on the dirt by Riot’s hoof, telling myself it’s not a bad omen that I’ve bled here before I’ve even drawn a breath.
Straightening, I scan the woods.
Then I take a head count.
Everyone made it. And we’re not in immediate danger, as far as I can tell.
I reach down and pat Riot, feeling the tension in him. He’s disoriented and completely torched up, fire covering all of him and most of my legs. “It’s all right, Riot. We’re good. Except you split my lip.”
He makes a low sound. Maybe you should’ve moved out of the way. I don’t like this place.
“I hear you, Big Red.”
The cut inside my mouth isn’t half as bad as the ache that’s melting out of my body. And I see that I’m not the only one having a hard time.
Low’s cursing in English. Suarez’s cursing in Spanish. Both Ben and Cordero look pained and it doesn’t help that their horses stamp and struggle at their reins, wanting to bolt. Jode holds his bow at full draw. He looks ready to blow something up. Marcus has his scythe resting against one shoulder, waiting for the rest of us to pull it together.
Daryn has dismounted. The orb is in her hand, solid again. Still bright, but fading. “Everyone okay?” she asks.
“Not really,” Maia says. She slides off her saddle, staggers a few feet, and vomits.
“Welcome to the Rift,” Low mutters.
I pull in a deep breath. We’ve left behind the glare of the desert for forest darkness. The air smells leafy, damp and cool. The long branches almost block out the sky—a purple sky, like fading dusk.
It’s hard to believe I’m here. Where Bas has been for the better part of eight months.
“Gideon, I think you’re bleeding,” Ben says, grimacing like injuries don’t compute in his mind.
“Just a cut.” I wipe my mouth. “I’m fine.”
Jode lowers his bow. Then he frowns at it. “Gideon, call away your sword.”
I do it.
Try to.
“Gideon?” Cordero says.