Aster Wood and the Blackburn Son (10 page)

“When he reached the pile of branches he had found the little one beneath, however, he found he could not leave him. The animal looked deep into his eyes, piercing his very soul with their light, and his mind, and spirit, were changed. He stayed in the grove that day, but when he returned in the evening he hid the cub in his satchel, intending to hide him in the workmen’s shed behind the cottage.
 

“Sacha’s father, while simple, was not a fool. He saw the squirming within the satchel upon his son’s return, and when he discovered the white cub still inside, still on his land, he was livid with anger. That night, Sacha’s backside burned bright with the red welts left by his father’s belt, and the boy was made to swear that the next day he would return the cub to the woods.

“But he did not. In the dark of night, while the family slept, Sacha crawled from his bed and found Pahana, caged now behind the cottage. He broke the lock with the back of an ax and, freeing the cub from his mean prison, set out to hide him. The village was a busy place, but the church lay forgotten while the people prepared for the onslaught. Within the sacred room, he housed the animal.
 

“Each night, during the deepest black, he stole food from his family’s table and brought it to Pahana while they slept. The gashes on his back had healed well enough by now, and the cub was growing at an astounding rate. So, too, grew their bond, until one night the agitation of the young panther was so intense that Sacha chose to free his friend from the church.
 

“The cub was now no longer a baby. He stood a full head taller than Sacha. And yet his gentleness had not left him as his kitten mews had. At the threshold of the church, he lifted his muzzle into the air and breathed in the crisp night air. Then, he lay down on the cold ground before Sacha, submissive, waiting for the boy to climb upon his back.”

My breathing had nearly stopped entirely as I listened to the story, my heart thudding beneath my shirt. I was certain I knew what was coming next, and I focused on Zacharias as though he were the only man here in the clearing. I waited, hoping for more forgotten clues about my strange guardians to release themselves from the story.

“Sacha had not yet ridden a horse,” Zacharias went on. “Horses were rare in that part of Aria, and reserved for the most decorated of elders and warriors. But his heart grew large at the opportunity, and he straddled his little legs over the smooth back of the shining animal.

“And then they ran. Pahana took Sacha at tremendous speed down into the valley, and then up again to the mountain range that bordered the other side. Towards the peak of the mountain, Pahana stopped, and Sacha then saw why he had brought him here. For below, in a part of the valley not visible from his village, was the threatening army. In this way, and without words, Sacha understood Pahana’s mind.
 

“He urged Pahana to take him home, and the great cat did so willingly. By the time they had reached the village, the morning sun was nearing noon. In front of their spare cottage sat his father, whittling arrowheads with his sharpest knife. He didn’t hear the soft footfalls of Pahana, but could not look away from his giant, glowing form when he finally got close.

“His father stood, angry at his son’s betrayal, though at the same time frightened of the towering monster the boy rode upon. Sacha slid from Pahana’s back and went to his father. He explained what had happened, what he had seen over the top of the far mountain, but his father did not believe him.
 

“Instead, he took Sacha by the arm and dragged him inside, shutting the beast out at the last moment.
 

“Pahana paced around and around the house, and when he heard Sacha cries coming from within, he clawed hopelessly at the door, then the walls, then the roof. But he could not gain entry. Finally, when the door opened again and Sacha’s father stepped out, Pahana tackled him to the ground, grabbing him around the neck with his giant, glowing fangs.

“‘Wait,’ came the breathless voice of Sacha. ‘Leave him.’

“Pahana looked to the boy who had saved him from the grove, blood now soaking through the back of his thin shirt, and anger pulsed through him. He felt the tips of his fangs break the delicate skin of the man’s neck.

“‘Pahana, stop!’ came Sacha’s voice again, louder and clearer this time.
 

“And Pahana stopped. He released Sacha’s father and was immediately at the boy’s side. He licked the tears and sweat from the child’s face and then bowed to the ground, urging him to climb up to his back. As they left the cottage for the safety of the church, the father voiced another warning.

“‘Sacha, betray me again, and my belt will be the least of your troubles.’

“But it was too late, for the boy’s trust in the man had been forever broken, and his threat held no weight. Pahana raced through the town, and upon reaching the cool, stone floor of the church, he delicately placed the boy down so not to disturb his wounds further. Sacha was nearly unconscious now, and the great cat ripped carefully at his shirt until the boy’s wounds were free of their covering. With his giant, rough cat’s tongue, he tenderly licked Sacha’s back, taking care not to push too hard, for sandpaper has no place against open flesh.
 

“But he needn’t have worried. For every lick, every caress of the white animal brought healing to the boy. Soon, he was sitting up, the thick gashes all but mended, and his resolve firm.
 

“They hid in the church for three days, waiting, and during this time something miraculous happened. The magic that had healed Sacha’s wounds had been transferred to him by Pahana, and in the scant hours since they had left the cottage of the wicked father, Sacha had grown large, no longer a boy. So that on the night when the two heard the disturbance of the army sneaking into the town, he left the church a man.
 

“The villagers awoke to the brutality of battle. Dragged from their beds, beaten bloody by the weapons of war, they were quickly scrambling for their lives, their plans to fight forgotten. And at the moment when the bravest and biggest of the men, Sacha’s father included, were falling to their knees before the leader of the army, Sacha and Pahana emerged, the boy, now a man, astride the great cat. The two, giants both, walked fearlessly before the army master.
 

“‘You have come and defeated my people,’ said Sacha, gesturing at the gathered crowd of men. ‘You may take your spoils with you and leave this place.’

“But the army master only laughed at Sacha, believing his own power to be greater than the pair’s. Instead of taking the opportunity, he told them all of his intentions to pillage the town until nothing remained to do but burn it to the ground. Around them the women cried, and the men moaned in agony and defeat.
 

“But Sacha and Pahana were not to be swayed. Together their power began to swirl all around them, intensified by their proximity to one another. The bands of blinding white wrapped around the two as a cocoon around a worm until the pulsing of power did not sway but with the beating of their hearts. Then the great white cat lifted his paws into the air, rearing like a horse, and stamped them down into the ground. A blast threw the army men beyond the village, down the hills and away from the fight. And when they were gone, and Sacha and Pahana stood waiting, the villagers looked up to find their foes cast off.
 

“Sacha’s father rose and addressed the strange man who rode the jaguar his son had fought to keep.
 

“‘But where is my son?’ he asked, at once demanding and forlorn.
 

“And to this Sacha responded simply and without sadness. ‘You have no son,’ said the young man.

“Pahana, his patience lost with the man who had hurt his little boy, raised up one clawed paw and rested it on the father’s head. Slowly he dragged his talons down across his face, but with the touch of Sacha’s hand on the fur of his neck, he did not cut the father. He turned then and sprinted, the little boy no longer a child clinging to his back, into the night.”

Zacharias took a deep breath, beaming with the joy of telling the story. The men sat silent, contemplating the sad, and heroic tale. Zacharias looked over at Chapman, who had moved away from me to the opposite side of the fire.

“Will that do, my friend?” he asked.

“Yes,” Chapman nodded. “Yes, that will do just fine.”

Sleep did not find me easily that night, though it had been several days since I had rested for any length of time. Zacharias’ story had been intended to fill me, all of us, with some sort of courage. But instead of increasing my resolve about the trial before me, my brain buzzed with questions. About Jade. About Stonemore. But more than anything, about that panther. It seemed like a tale most of the men had heard before, maybe even as children. And yet none of them seemed to know anything about the White Guard. Why?
 

The wolf I had met on the snow planet had stomped his feet, just as in the story. He had protected me. Saved me. And Erod, with his weird white bands of power, had done the same. But I had never met another person who had had the same types of encounters, at least nobody who spoke of them. And while the story matched my experience in many ways, it was written off by the men as a fairy tale, good for spirit lifting but not practical advice.
 

When I finally did doze off, my dreams were punctuated with the bright, glowing beasts. In one, I ran through a meadow, joyful at the freedom and the feeling of power my speed gave me. Then, on my tail I saw the panther, Pahana, speeding up behind me. I turned to face him, elated at his appearance, and opened my arms to embrace him. But he didn’t stop running, didn’t stop charging, and he bared his teeth and lunged at me, pinning me to the ground and wrapping his giant fangs around my neck. When I opened my mouth to scream, no sound came. I felt his razor sharp teeth break the skin on my neck, just as he had done to Sacha’s father thousands of years ago.

I was shaken awake, finding Kiron staring down at me.
 

“Get up, boy,” he said. “You’ve slept long enough. Everyone is already preparin’ for the day.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking around.
 

“Preparing for what?” I asked.

“You and Owyn are settin’ off today.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes snapping open. “But I’m not ready for that. I never said—”

Kiron stood over me and crossed his arms. I fell silent. Many times I had tried to sway Jade, prodded her to continue on, to keep fighting the Corentin when she wanted to give up and hide. Now, I was the one who needed convincing.
 

But I hadn’t expected that fighting the Corentin would mean fighting my best friend.
 

I nearly flopped back the the ground, but Kiron’s hand shot out and grabbed me by the back of my collar. He forced me to stand.
 

“You can die noble or die a coward,” he said roughly, his face close. “But either way you’re gonna die, and probably soon. You’re the best chance we got. Now get it together.” He released my shirt, pushing me away in irritation.
 

“What about you?” I asked, defensive. “What are you going to do while I’m off trying to do the impossible.”

He ignored my tone.

“We’ll be breakin’ through the mist,” he said, shuffling through several sheafs of paper he had written notes on. “Here.” He held out the Book to me. I looked down at it, uncertain.

“Are you sure I should be taking this with me?” I asked. “What if something happens to me? What if she—” I paused, not quite able to say the words
kills me.
“It seems like it would be safer with you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna be safer anywhere than with the person who can rightfully claim it,” he grunted. “If we fail, if Stonemore falls while you’re gone, what will become of it then? It’s too valuable a prize to be riskin’ it here.”

I ran my fingers along the crevices decorating the ancient leather cover.

“The Book belongs to
you
,” he said.

I knew he was right. I had fought for this prize, and won it. But that did nothing to bolster my courage. If it came down to a fight between Jade and I, I knew who would be on the losing end.

“What if I can’t get it?” I asked, my voice quiet. “What will we do then?”

Kiron stopped his shuffling.
 

“We have the bit of gold from the hold,” he said. “It’s just a tiny amount, not near enough to level the Fold or even make a dent. But could be that we’ll find a way to use it. Maybe start a search for more. But it’s all we got. We can’t risk it unless there’s no other choice. Besides, could be that any other gold out there’s guarded by someone more terrible and powerful than Jade. Or we could spend years, centuries lookin’ for it. And in the meantime, Stonemore will fall. Those kids you met will die. Is that what you want?”

My arguments died on my lips, my mouth open, searching for the words I needed to convince him to let me stay.
 

“This is impossible,” I finally said, deflated.
 

“Yep.” He went back to his papers, shoving them roughly into the interior pockets of his coat. “We all got parts to play that ain’t likely to succeed. But if you make it back, if you get her gold, we’ll have a chance. We can defeat a thousand armies with that much power. And then we’ll really get down to business. Together.”

An hour later, we were gathered around the fire pit, now all but empty. A tiny wisp of smoke curled up from the blackened coals.
 

Now that the plan was made, and it had been decided that we wouldn’t yet go back for Rhainn and Cait, I was more eager than ever to get started. The sooner I got that gold, the sooner we could set them free.
 

“The best way to get back to Riverstone,” Owyn said, “is to take the chaser. You.” He pointed at me. “How long did it take you to get here from the Fire Mountains using Kiron’s link? That’s where we need to jump from.”