by E G Radcliff
“Ronan, I—” he started, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. Ronan looked up fearfully, and his wet eyes glimmered in the darkness.
“I want to go home,” the boy whispered pitifully.
Very slowly so that Ronan would not run, Áed knelt in the dust. Breathing deeply to still his shaking, he carefully reached out a hand. Ronan shrank away from him and squeezed his eyes shut, but Áed touched his shoulder, and the younger boy didn’t push him away.
“What did you do, Áed? What did you do?” More tears were rising in his eyes, and Ronan quaked as he started to cry in earnest. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know,” Áed said honestly.
“Don’t do it again,” Ronan begged, and then his defenses fell completely. He buried his face in Áed’s chest, where he quaked with tears.
Áed held Ronan while the boy cried, but he was all too aware that he could provide no real comfort, not when it was he whom Ronan feared. What had he done? Fire had come from within him as if it had lain in wait for the moment, and he could still feel the ember of it smoldering in his core. It was familiar, and he couldn’t be sure whether or not he’d always felt it. The memory of Ninian’s pyre made him pause his murmuring to Ronan as it struck his mind. Had he done that, too?
What was he?
“Ceann beag,” he said softly, and Ronan looked up. “We have to go, mate.”
Ronan nodded and shakily began to pick himself up.
“When we’re past the farms, we can rest. Alright?”
The boy didn’t answer, but Áed hadn’t expected him to.
He brushed the dust from his hands, and together, he and Ronan abandoned Morcant’s body in the street.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hours later, the sun began to warm the early sky with hints of yellow on the horizon.
They had left the Inner Maze in silence, side-by-side and lost in their own thoughts. Ronan needed to sleep; his feet dragged, and his eyes were half-closed. Every now and then he tripped and Áed automatically moved to catch him, but even if Ronan had cried onto Áed’s shoulder in the heat of the moment, the boy didn’t want Áed to touch him again. The pain of this didn’t lose itself in the dismal swirl of Áed’s mind, and Ronan always stumbled upright on his own.
There were clouds moving in, the same clouds that had churned out over the sea as Ninian’s soul drifted away, and the morning light fell onto the thunderheads’ bulging, gray faces. They meant a storm, Áed was sure of it, but around them, the city was thinning, and shelter would soon be scarce as they reached farmland. Still, he would rather be caught in a storm beyond the Maze than sheltered within the city, so he kept moving, and Ronan stayed with him.
The city ended and the farms began, though it was difficult to tell exactly where. The buildings became smaller and fewer, and the ground abandoned dust and cobbles for earth. Áed and Ronan’s feet didn’t land on paving-stones or brick, but instead shifted through sandy, starving soil as they followed a narrow path that, according to the prints in the dry ground, a farmer and his ox had beaten through the fields. The leaves of the taller plants—oats, perhaps—brushed at Áed’s elbows as he led the way, and the stems crackled, shushing with a sound like wind. The land was hilly, as if the undulating waves of the sea had frozen in place. Ahead of them by some miles were trees, and rising behind the trees were the cliffs, and neither of them could see anything after.
The storm clouds took their time rolling in over the Maze, but having them at his back gave Áed the feeling of being chased. Eventually, Ronan caved to exhaustion and allowed Áed to carry him, and despite hunger scraping at his stomach, Áed moved as quickly as he could.
The trees approached quickly as the farmland faded into monotony, and their shadows grew darker and all the more dramatic for the clouds were blotting out the sun.
When they reached the forest, Ronan leaned to the side and tumbled off Áed’s back, where he cushioned his fall by rolling onto his back and sprawling into fallen leaves. Without the boy’s weight, Áed stumbled to the nearest tree and sank down against it, gazing up into the whispering branches. “Alright, ceann beag,” he coughed. His throat was dry, and the air was chill. “We can rest.”
Ronan just stared dully at the sky.
Áed shoved his knobby fingers through his hair and rested his elbows on his knees to regard Ronan with concern. “You should sleep a bit, okay, mate? You don’t even have to move, just close your eyes.”
Ronan nodded, hair tangling in the leaflitter, and his eyelids fell shut. Within moments, his breathing shifted, and Áed knew that he slept.
Áed filled his lungs with air before letting his head fall back against the bark of the tree. They’d done it. They were out of the Maze. Áed could barely process it, but they were free of the city. They were well and truly out.
Somewhere past the trees were the cliffs. They would find a way to the White City, and there they would stay, and Ronan would be well-fed and happy. Surely Áed could find work at something, he was resourceful enough for that, and they could live someplace clean and quiet. Áed reached over and freed Ronan’s little bag of possessions from the child’s fist, and he placed it into his own so Ronan wouldn’t have to carry it. If only the crops were ripe, then they could eat! They both could do with some food.
Áed didn’t let himself sleep. He wouldn’t allow his eyes to close for another night, not after Ninian’s death, but he sat still and watched the storm crawl in.
When lightning began its assault on the distant Maze, Áed pushed himself up and roused Ronan. The air had grown humid, and the space beneath the steadily-darkening clouds was streaky with rain. “Hey,” he said, and Ronan opened his eyes blearily. “Wake up, mate.”
With a yawn, Ronan pushed himself up and scrubbed at his eyes with his fists.
“Ceann beag, we should talk.”
Ronan looked at him blankly, but there was so much turmoil behind his expression that Áed bit his lip.
“What happened back in the Maze. I know it scared the hell out of you.” Áed could feel that clearly.
Tentatively, Ronan bobbed his chin.
“I know you’re angry with me.”
Again, Ronan nodded.
“Talk to me, mate.”
Ronan looked to the ground and started crumbling the dry dirt in his hands. He chewed his lip ferociously, but couldn’t seem to find the words. Áed gave him a moment, and eventually, Ronan spoke. “I never knew you could do that.” The boy swallowed hard. “You killed him.”
Yes. Yes, that was true: Áed had taken a man’s life. Violently. Right in front of Ronan. He felt sick to his stomach. “I am so sorry, ceann beag.”
“You killed him with…” Ronan couldn’t get the words out, but he opened his hands from fists like something was bursting from them. “You weren’t you. I thought…”
Áed wanted only to take Ronan into his arms and convince him that everything was alright. But Ronan was still instinctively keeping his distance, and things weren’t alright anyway, so Áed pressed his hands to the ground. “Ronan,” Áed said, making an effort to show the truth in his words, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I did that. It startled me, too.” Gently, slowly, he reached out and lifted Ronan’s chin so that the boy made eye contact. “I would never hurt you. Do you believe me?”
Hesitantly, Ronan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, in a small voice, he said, “Yes.”
“Good,” Áed replied with a small sigh of relief. He moved his hand from Ronan’s chin, and Ronan didn’t look away. “I’m sorry we had to leave, but it’s going to be better now. I promise.” Ronan would understand later. When the wound of Ninian’s death healed a little, then he would see. Áed stood and held out his hand, and after a moment of pause, Ronan took it. “Come on, ceann beag. There’s a long way to go.”
The forest wasn’t terribly thick, and this was fortunate. Brambles and thorny twigs snatched at their ankles, but they couldn’t do much to damage to Áed o
r Ronan’s already-tattered trousers. Saplings stretched toward the sun, and the older trees grew crookedly. Moss that was green and rich affixed itself to flaky bark, and most of the plants looked rather sickly. Áed and Ronan picked their way over fallen trunks where fungi sprouted like spongy balconies, stepping through patches of diluted sunlight that filtered through the leaves overhead. They didn’t talk, and the quiet that hung between the scrawny trees pressed both Áed and Ronan more deeply into his own thoughts.
The woods spanned fewer miles than the farmland. Before long, the trees became sparser, and the screen of branches ahead of them thinned. “We must be getting close to the cliff,” Ronan said tiredly, breaking the silence for the first time in hours. He glanced at the sky, at the clouds that had nearly reached them. “Hopefully.”
For a while, they walked uphill, weaving between saplings whose leaves danced at their passage, and at the top of the rise, they emerged from the trees.
And there it was, rising from the land ahead of them. A rough wall of stone, terminal and stoic, as impassable as the unforgiving sea.
Ronan’s mouth fell open at the sight of it, and even Áed let out a little stunned breath.
“Áed,” Ronan said quietly. “We can’t climb that.”
Áed nodded. “I know, mate. Don’t worry, we aren’t going to.” Scaling the cliffs had never been part of Áed’s plan, and he’d been dreaming about this journey for enough years to have considered the possibilities. “Remember Ninian’s stories?”
Ronan pressed his lips together and looked away, but he replied with a quick nod.
The mention of Ninian scraped knives across Áed’s heart, but he made himself continue. “The White City and the Maze used to be one city.” He took a few steps toward the cliff. “So what does that tell you?”
“I don’t know.”
“It means that once upon a time, people had to be able get from one part to another.” He began walking along the bottom of the cliff. “There’s a way, mate. We just need to find it.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The clouds at their backs seemed to have paused over the Maze, but the air had gotten heavy and still in anticipation of the storm’s arrival. Áed and Ronan stumbled along the base of the cliffs, unsure what they were looking for but determined to find it.
Wind picked up as time ground on, and leaves began blowing from the trees to dance skyward as the air met the cliff. The sky, hazy above them, was turning a faint silver-green as the impending storm filtered away the sunlight’s last warmth. Áed’s feet met the earth with increasing weariness, but he had his goal in mind and would not be deterred from it; he paused only when Ronan stopped breathlessly, and then he encouraged the boy onward.
The face of the cliff was changing as they moved, becoming rougher and pocked with minerals, and in places, lichens affixed themselves to the rock. Ivies and creepers trailed down the stone, sometimes obscuring the cliff entirely, and Áed gave one of the vines an experimental tug. The plant released its hold and came falling down; they wouldn’t be of any use for climbing if it did come to that.
Suddenly, Áed had an idea, and immediately, he kicked himself for not having had it sooner. “Ronan,” he instructed, “Brush away the ivy.” As Ronan obeyed, Áed began clearing aside the swaying creepers. Behind the green leaves was nothing but rock, but Áed broke into a jog along the cliff with one hand pulling the ivy away as he went. Fine tendrils snatched at his fingers, but he kept moving.
He skidded to a stop, took a few steps backward, and yanked away the ivy. Ronan caught up behind him, and when he saw what Áed had found, he gasped.
Áed licked his lips and squinted into the cave. It smelled damp, like forest things and wet stone, and a breeze whispered through the air. The mouth of the cave was tall enough to accommodate them, but the inside was dark as a tomb.
“Áed, look.” Ronan pushed away more trailing ivy and pointed at the edge of the rock. Around the straight edges of the opening, carvings settled into the rock. Pointed, spiraling knots, endless and deliberate, crept upward, framing the doorway. The strange light of the storm filled them with shadows, and they seemed to move in the corner of Áed’s eyes.
“This has to be it, ceann beag,” Áed said. He’d expected to feel jubilant, or at least grimly triumphant, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. “Wait here a moment.”
Carefully, with hands outstretched, he felt his way forward. The light from the doorway scarcely carried beyond the entrance, but he could tell from the echoes of his breathing that the chamber was large. His foot hit something on the ground and he tripped, but his hands met stone before he fell.
“Áed?” Ronan’s voice came uncertainly from the entrance.
“I’m fine,” Áed called back, feeling around him. “I found stairs.”
He heard Ronan’s footsteps tentatively enter the cave.
“That’s it, mate,” Áed said. “Follow my voice. Over here—ah, there you are.” He found Ronan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m going to go first, okay? Stay close.”
Ronan shivered under his touch. “It’s so dark.”
“I know.” Áed didn’t think Ronan would want him to try to break the darkness, and Áed definitely didn’t want to either. The ember in his chest was very awake, and it scared him.
They moved up the damp stairs cautiously, careful of where they trusted their weight. Moss made the stone, untended for who knew how many hundreds of years, as slippery as oil, and if the hewn steps had ever had railings, they’d long since rotted away. As the two moved higher, Áed kept a hand on Ronan, all too aware of the invisible distance below them.
As they climbed higher, faint light began to permeate from somewhere above. It grew stronger as they approached it, and they moved faster once they could see. “Almost there,” Áed murmured. “We’re so close, mate.”
Wind began to twirl through the chamber, wind that smelled fresh and stormy, and when Áed and Ronan crossed the last step, their feet fell on scruffy grass poking up between cracked paving stones.
The stairs, obscured by the grass, disappeared into the ground behind them. The edge of the cliff, which overlooked the farms, the Maze, and the vast Sea that spread to the horizon, plunged downward not twenty paces from where they emerged, and Áed stood for a moment, catching his breath. It appeared as if they were eye-level with the storm’s rolling thunderheads, and beneath it all, their old city looked almost beautiful in the deadly light. “Look, Ronan,” Áed said softly. “You can see the docks.”
Ronan’s eyes caught the storm and appeared earth-gray as he squinted across the expanse. “I can’t find home.”
Áed bit his lip and searched as well, but the crumbling flat was indistinguishable from anything around it. “Me neither,” he murmured, and turned away. It didn’t matter anymore. “Come on. We’re going to get caught in the storm.”
The landscape atop the cliffs was hilly and speckled with white-trunked trees, but it didn’t take the two long to crest a rise and slow their steps. They stopped at the peak of a gentle knoll, cracked pavers barely intact between silvery birches, and looked toward their grail.
The White City sparkled under the storm-filtered sun, the color of bleached bones. Straight-backed buildings crowned the hills in both directions, boundless and magnificent.
“A thiarcais,” Ronan said softly, and had Áed been able to form a thought, he would have said the same. There were the rising turrets, as if plucked from a story, there were the glittering windows. There were the sturdy, sloping roofs and the clean streets, and as Áed stared, he was sure that he saw security, warmth, and a future embedded like chips of mica in the walls.
Ronan needed no urging to start forward again, and Áed hurried after him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The very bricks upon which they walked shone white.
Agape, Áed and Ronan drank in the sights they passed. Even in the outskirts of the city, the buildings seemed to glow with health, and each was adorned with decorative br
ickwork or boxes of trailing flowers, terraces, and tidy shutters. Warm light spilled from windows, and smoke rose merrily from the chimneys; the few people who had not yet taken shelter from the impending tempest wore clothes of fur and fabric in a thousand colors.
The surroundings grew only richer as Áed and Ronan moved further into the heart of the city, for the buildings became taller, more ornate, and here and there a walkway arced gracefully above their heads. Ahead of them loomed a soaring citadel of white stones that dwarfed the buildings around it as it stretched its spires heavenward, and it took Áed’s breath away as he craned his neck to see flags snapping at the very pinnacles of the towers. He shook his head firmly to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, and the vision stayed.
But there was something wrong. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of motion there, but all he saw was the misty, pre-storm rain. He nudged Ronan. “Keep your eyes out, ceann beag.”
“Alright,” Ronan said. “Can we go inside?”
Áed nodded. Surely someplace had open doors. The storm was building, and Áed’s uneasy feeling was only mounting as the rain stole away more visibility, as if he’d unconsciously noted something that set him on edge. “We’ll find somewhere. But remember what I said, and stay alert.”
As it turned out, Ronan spotted them first.
Two men behind them, taking advantage of the hazy air to follow at a short distance, ducked behind parked carriages or into doorways whenever Áed or Ronan looked back. Ronan elbowed Áed, who peeked back in time to see one of them slip out of sight. “Right,” he muttered. “I see.”
“Should we run?”
“Not yet.”
“Please don’t do the… you know.” Ronan made a gesture with his hands that suggested fire spitting from them. “Don’t do it.”
Áed wasn’t entirely sure whether it was his to decide, but he nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”
They wove through the streets, avoiding obvious glances at their stalkers. The White City, it seemed, wasn’t free of criminals, and it was tempting to shout that for the Gods’ sake, they had nothing left to steal. Instead, they hurried through the fog, hoping to lose the men in the winding streets. Ronan elbowed him again. “Áed? They’re doing something.”