“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 that. 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—