Bailey Baz's Arc

Chapter 4 of 44

The whole totem hung warm against Bailey's chest. Cora was gone, sealed as light in the den, and only the prisoner could split the totem again to free her. So Bailey walked toward the deep water. He had to face Malachar Vex, the man who wanted him whole. He did not know why. That gap frightened him more than the walk. Halfway there, a small animal blocked the path. It looked like a ferret, but bigger, with golden eyes and long white tufts on its ears. Its black tail dragged in the mud. It planted itself in front of Bailey and hissed. When he stepped left, it darted left. When he stepped right, it barred him again. "Move," Bailey said. The creature did not move. It clamped its teeth on his coat hem and pulled him back, away from the water. Then the vines answered. They rose from the mud in looping strands, thick and green, dripping with wet leaves. They did not grab Bailey this time. They wound a wall between him and the deep water. A face pressed out of the tangle, made of bark and moss, watching him with old patience. The old voice came again from below the surface. "Come closer, warden," said Malachar Vex. "I have waited two thousand years for one made whole. Bring the totem to me." Bailey understood then. The prisoner wanted the totem itself. Malachar could not split it from the deep. He needed Bailey to carry it near, whole, so he could break it apart with his own hands. And if the totem split, Cora would no longer be light forever, but breaking it might free the emperor from his vines. The ferret released his coat and looked up at him. The vine wall held firm. They were both telling him the same thing. Stop. "You need me whole," Bailey called across the water. "But not for my sake. For the totem I carry." The shape below went still. The dry voice hardened. "Clever child. Then come clever, and I will teach you what you are." That was the trap. Malachar dangled the one thing Bailey wanted: the truth of why he never aged. Bailey's chest ached to step forward and take it. But he saw the price now. His answers would cost Cora her freedom and might loose a tyrant on the swamp. Bailey backed away from the water. The vines sank as he retreated, satisfied. The ferret trotted at his heel. "I'll come," Bailey said. "But not carrying this. Not until I know how to trap you instead." Malachar's laugh rolled up through the mud, then fell silent. Bailey turned from the deep water with the whole totem still safe on its cord. He had not walked into the trap. But now he needed another way to free Cora and learn his own truth, one that did not hand the emperor his freedom.