Aster Wood and the Blackburn Son (11 page)

I shrugged. “I was out there for a long time,” I said. “Months. But if we jumped straight through, we could do it in a day or two, probably.”

“Good,” he said. “The link Kiron gave you is faster than the one I carried when I set out. The sooner we can get there, the better.”

It was the first thing Owyn had said that I had fully agreed with.

Then, he turned to Kiron and Finian and held out his hand to shake. “Sorry our meeting’s been so short, my friends.”
 

Kiron shook his hand. Finian just glared.
 

“Bring our boy back,” Kiron said.
 

Owyn dug the tip of his staff into the dirt and didn’t answer. It was the first time I had noticed he was carrying it, and the sight of it reminded me of how it had felt in my hands when I had unearthed it from the treasure hold. Warm. And surging with power. Maybe with a tool as powerful as the staff we would stand a chance against Jade. Though I hoped still that I would find a way to convince her to give up the gold willingly.

I approached Kiron, and I was relieved when he didn’t look away from me, didn’t hide any of the complexity of his thoughts that showed through his steel blue irises. He put one hand on my shoulder, and I understood. No false promises were to be made today. Not by him.

“When you get back,” he said to both of us, “we’ll either be here, or there.” He pointed towards the city. “Hopefully still in our right minds, in either case.”

I smirked a little. “I’ll just give you a kick if you’re not,” I said.
 

He raised one eyebrow, grimacing as he remembered his bruised shins. My own were still smarting from the other day.

“Ready?” Owyn asked, holding out one hand.

I pulled out Kiron’s link from around my neck and pointed it back in the direction of the Fire Mountains, gripping Owyn’s hand at the last moment.

The friends that I had finally made my way back to after all these months vanished from my sight in a blast of power.

We jumped. Ten times. Twenty. Forty. I lost track as I tried to hold my stomach tight, to keep the pain from the twisting at bay.
 

Finally, after more than an hour, Owyn gripped onto my forearm, stopping me. His face was covered with sweat, and his hands shook.
 

“Time for a rest, I think,” he said.
 

I didn’t argue. We both flopped down to the ground, panting. Surrounding us was the tall grass I had run through days before, waving innocently in the breeze. We hadn’t come across the army again, and I was extremely grateful. Maybe seeing those kids would’ve strengthened my resolve to keep going. But more likely than not it would’ve just made me crumble.
 

When Owyn had caught his breath, he sat up, pulling from his pocket a square package wrapped in paper. He crinkled the wrapping and pulled out a hunk of fine pastry, holding a piece of it out to me. Dripping down the sides of the bread were thin trails of icing.
 

I stared.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, my mouth watering, but still unwilling to accept the treat. When I didn’t take it, he tore off a piece of it and shoved it into his mouth.

“Stole it,” he said.
 

“Why didn’t you tell the others?” I asked.

He laughed.
 

“Split eleven ways we all might’ve had a bite the size of a grape.” He smacked his lips, nudging me with his still outstretched hand. “Go on, take it. Otherwise I’m going to eat it, myself.”

I didn’t know what to do. It had been so long since I had tasted anything sweet. And yet something about the casual way he offered it bothered me. His logic was sound, for not telling the others about it, but it made me wonder what else he was hiding inside his coat.
 

Finally, I shook my head.
 

“I’m not hungry,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “Maybe later.”

He raised his eyebrows and then grinned. “More for me.” He popped the other half of the pastry into his mouth without another thought.
 

My stomach growled. I ignored it.
 

“Who did you steal it from?” I asked, unable to drop the subject.

“The princess herself,” he said, laying back into the grass. I eyed him, unsure of how to respond to this.
 

“You’re different than I remember,” I said.
 

He snorted, holding his arm over his eyes to block out the sun.
 

“How’s that?” he asked.

“It’s just, when I met you before,” I stumbled, trying to pinpoint my thoughts, “you were so serious. Now…”

He grinned.
 

“Two centuries below ground can rob a man of his joy,” he said. “Don’t I deserve a little happiness now that I’m finally free?”

“Well, yeah, of course,” I said. “But—”

He rolled onto his side and looked at me.

“Don’t mistake yourself,” he said, more serious. “I still remember everything. Everything that monster did to us down below. The darkness. The rotten food. The torture. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.” His face abruptly turned dark, and he looked strangely alarming. “Don’t you think I
deserve
to have a little joy? Have I not earned the right a little sweetness on my tongue, no matter the source?”

My heart was thudding and suddenly my hands were slick with sweat.
 

“I—I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Yes, of course you do.”

He rolled over onto his back again, and smiled. “Of
course
I do,” he said.

I had a sudden urge to jump away, to leave him there. But I just sat still, not daring to move at all.
 

Don’t be stupid. He’s right.

But I did not lay down beside him. I sat looking out over the land instead, waiting for my accelerated heart rate to slow.
 

We had all been through so much.
 

Owyn stayed quiet, and I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. He barely seemed to breathe.
 

His wood staff lay on the ground between us, and at the sight of it I began to squirm. I wanted to touch it, to grab it and feel the warmth emanate through the wood into my fingertips. I felt like a little kid sitting in front of a plate piled high with sweets I shouldn’t eat. But this I couldn’t resist. I checked to make sure his eyes were still closed, and then reached out a tentative finger.
 

Warm, invigorating power pulsed up my arm from the touch of just one finger to the wood. Though I had held the staff once before, I had forgotten how truly wonderful it was to feel it against my hand. It was like drinking hot chocolate on a freezing afternoon, liquid power seeping into every corner of my being, warming me from the inside.
 

A thought popped into my head that I had never considered before.
 

Maybe I did have power, something more than just the ability to run like a cheetah. Maybe I had just been looking for the power
I
possessed in the wrong places.
 

When I looked up I found Owyn wide awake, watching me. I dropped the staff back into the grass. I hadn’t even realized I had lifted it from the ground.

“Better get moving,” he said quietly.
 

“Sorry,” I said reflexively.
 

He stayed silent for a moment, watching me.
 

“No problem,” he said finally, his voice silken. He sat up, hoisting his pack onto his back. “Shall we?”

My stomach gave a painful squeeze as I remembered where we were headed.
 

I tried to imagine the village on the mountainside. It was the spot where Jade had jumped from, and it was where we needed to go now to follow her trail. I cringed as I remembered the burned bodies stacked like garbage inside the little stone church.
 

But I had buried the bodies, I reminded myself. The mountain was destroyed. The dragons dead.
 

Still, the feeling I had that I was plodding back towards a place that would trap me, kill me, would not go away.
 

It took fifteen more jumps until the destroyed range of the Fire Mountains came into view. Owyn held out the scope to me, and through the glass I saw what remained of the once spectacular mountains. Where once a high peak had stood, burning orange in the sunlight, now only a crumble of rock and debris remained. It was as if a giant fist had come down on the jagged peaks, crushing them into a pile of stones no bigger than a man. It had collapsed in upon itself, and the spot where I had escaped the dark tunnel was completely gone. When I had left the mountain that day, much of the outer shell of it still stood. But now, months later, the weight of the granite had given way, and the huge, sheer cliffs were reduced to rubble.
   

Five more jumps and we stood in the valley below the mountain. I held the link out, ready to give the command that would take us in range of the village, and Owyn looked at me expectantly. But when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. I stood there, silent, suddenly more terrified than I could ever remember being.
 

Finally, I let the link fall heavily against my chest, turning away.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go back there. Too much had happened. This was all too raw. Too soon.
 

I jumped when I felt Owyn’s hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it.

“The princess
will
see you,” he said. “She won’t hurt you.”

I stared back in the direction of Stonemore. I had trouble breathing past the lump in my throat.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I could hear it,” he said. “In her voice. She still cares for you. She will listen to you.”

Will she?

“And what about you?” I asked, turning. “Aren’t you worried that she’ll lock you up again? Or kill you this time?”

A flicker went across his eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw something there. Doubt. He dropped his head.

“What matters now is that we get the gold. Only you can take it from her. What becomes of my life is of little importance.”

“You really believe that?” I asked.
 

He raised his eyes from the ground, stared hard into mine. And I thought I saw that flicker again.

“I do,” he said.

The lie betrayed him, flitting behind his pupils like a flag in the wind.

I knew he was lying. But I didn’t know why.

I focused, instead, on his words. They didn’t apply to him, but to me.
 

And I suddenly believed that there
was
a chance, even if it was only a remote possibility, that I would be able to convince Jade.
 

It wasn’t that his life, or anyone’s, was of little importance. It was that, when up against odds so great, only all of our efforts combined really mattered. If I died, the hand of the Corentin’s enemy would be removed. But that enemy would remain, would keep fighting, would keep opposing the evil until one or the other prevailed. Only then would hope be lost.
 

I looked back up the mountain and raised the link, grabbing Owyn’s hand as I did so. It was time to face Jade again, and play my role. The role I finally understood, finally knew, I was destined for.
 

We landed on the mountain, Owyn on his feet, me on my knees. I looked at the rocks beneath my hands, felt the thinness of the air from the height of the precipice, and knew we weren’t far from our target. When I stood up, Owyn was already walking ahead, up the familiar trail that led to the destroyed village.
 

When we came over the rise and I saw the small buildings below, though, my breath caught in my chest. I didn’t want to go down into that place. Not again.
 

But I did.

My legs shook only slightly as I descended. My breath only rattled a touch as I reached the first abandoned dwelling. I held out my hand and ran it along the stone wall as I passed it by, remembering that once, not long ago, this place had held the innocent victims of the Corentin. And that he had burned them alive, not for his own benefit, but for mine. I seethed with the thought that so many were tortured and killed for the simple, disgusting purpose to frighten a kid.
 

Owyn had stopped in the center of the small square, waiting for me and watching my movements. I took a deep breath and followed, pushing past him towards the church at the end of the town.
 

The little building looked just as I had last seen it. The eighteen mounds that I had made over the bodies from the massacre were still there, but each little hill now had moss growing on top, like blankets draped over each lost soul. Something about this comforted me as I walked to the spot Jade had stood upon as I watched her jump from the mountain. I had stood on this spot before, had seen that the earth was bare, leaving no trace of her departure. Still, I was surprised to find no scar, no sign of her betrayal etched into the dirt.
 

“Come on, then,” I said over my shoulder to Owyn. I held out my hand and waved it impatiently. He looked surprised, but then quickly broke into action. In a flash he had joined me and held his chaser up to the sky.

“Orasco,”
he commanded.

A strange sensation, very unlike a regular jump, pulled at my insides. The feeling was tingly, almost pleasant on my nerves, and instead of the cosmos swirling around us as we leapt, they thrust downward around us as if we were being shot from a cannon.
 

When we landed, we both tumbled over like children rolling down a grassy hill, unable to stop.
 

“What was that?” I asked when we finally came to rest, slightly alarmed, slightly amazed. I was out of breath.

Owyn picked several twigs from his knotted hair.

“A chaser’s a lot faster than a regular link,” he panted.

“Yeah, I got that,” I said.

“We think it’s because path has already been made from one place to another, so the normal twisting and pulling doesn’t occur. But really, we’re not certain.”