by Amy Cross
“But what does it taste like?” I ask.
“I can't describe it. You'd have to taste it for yourself.” He turns to me. “Do you want some? I can't spare much, but I can give you a little and then maybe you can come with me and get some more at the soul auction.”
“Have you already tried some?”
He nods.
“Do your parents know?”
He shakes his head.
“But -”
“They don't need to know,” he continues, interrupting me. “They wouldn't understand, anyway. They're happy living in a shack on barren land, farming mud for the pine barons. They even think I'm going to take over one day, they've already started saving up to buy me a wife. And they reckon I'll be happy just copying their lives exactly, living from one mud harvest to the next and getting all excited over seeing some flashing lights at another soul auction.”
He pauses, and then suddenly he licks some of the powder out of the palm of his hand.
“What does it do to you?” I ask, feeling a flash of panic.
“What doesn't it do?” he replies, turning to me with a smile. “You know those dragons? For starters, it makes you see them much closer. And it makes everything around you hum a little with this kind of anticipation. Sometimes you even start seeing someone out there on the horizon, a man made of light. He's got a name, I think it's Arraroth or Amaroth or something like that. The fact that I can't put it into words just shows how completely insane the whole thing feels. You really need to try it for yourself.”
I look back toward the campfire.
Duncan's still arguing with the parents.
“I won't tell anyone,” Van says, as I turn to him and see a kind of light in his eyes, flashing and burning. “There's no harm in trying. If you don't like it, you don't like it. No-one'll make you feel bad for that.” He holds his hand out toward me. “I wanted to be a soldier, but my parents won't let me. This is all I have now. Don't be a chicken, Milly. At least if you try it and you don't like it, you can say you gave it a shot. But if you -”
Suddenly he lets out a gasp as the light in his eyes flares for a moment. He leans forward, almost spilling the rest of the powder, but he manages to catch himself just in time. The light fades a little, but it's still there in his pupils.
“It's so good,” he whispers. “It gets better and better each time. Sometimes I actually think I could just die of it. That's how good it is.”
“How long does it last?” I ask.
“As long as you want.”
“I should ask Duncan,” I reply, getting to my feet. “If he says it's okay, then -”
“Don't be a baby!” Van hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down so hard that it actually hurts my ankle. “You've got to grow up some time!”
“But -”
“He'll never know,” he continues, holding the powder so close that I finally notice a faint, warmish odor. “It'll just be between you, and me, and the powder, and whatever spirits you encounter while you're on it.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I don't want to try this stuff, but something about the smell is making me feel curious. I really want to know what Van's talking about, and he seems trustworthy. Although there's a part of me that wants to ask Duncan for permission, I can't help thinking back to how Matilda told me I was going to have to grow up. Asking Duncan would be like being a stupid little girl, whereas if I just take some of the powder now I'll be making my own decision. Duncan will probably be proud of me for that, and it's not like anything bad'll end up happening.
Slowly, I reach out and let Van tip some of the powder onto my palm.
“I gave you a little extra,” he explains, “just to give you a good rush at the start. You're quite small, though, so I didn't go overboard. It's best to be careful the first time, but not too careful. You've got to be a little brave.”
As he says those words, the lights in his eyes flare again, but this time he doesn't seem to react.
“Just dive in,” he adds, as if he's sensing my discomfort. “I was like you once. Lost. Scared. Looking for something I couldn't even describe. But now I've got this stuff and I'm so much happier.”
Taking a deep breath, I realize that what he's saying makes sense.
I hesitate for a moment longer, just so I can find a little extra scrap of bravery deep down, and then I bring the powder closer to my mouth.
Suddenly Van lets out a cry and falls back. Startled, I turn and see that he's shuddering as he lands, and a moment later I feel the powder slip from my hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask, but I can already see that the lights in his eyes are getting brighter.
I wait, but I can't make out any of the words that he's mumbling.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, leaning closer. “Van, are -”
Before I can finish, I see that there's some kind of foam frothing on his lips. I feel a rush of panic, and I quickly realize that I need help, so I turn to call for Duncan.
And then I see the stars.
I saw them before, of course, but now they seem so much closer. In fact, they seem so close, I think I could...
I wait for a moment, before slowly reaching my right hand up toward the sky. I'm already telling myself that I've imagined most of this crazy feeling, but then I'm shocked to feel tiny hot pinpricks against my hand and wrist. I wave my hand slowly above my head, knocking the stars out of the way until several of them bump into each other and flash with tiny explosions. All the while, I keep feeling little burns on my skin but I don't even care because the sight of the moving stars is far too exciting.
“How's this happening?” I whisper, moving my hand back across the sky and knocking more stars out of the way. “It doesn't make sense. Why are they...”
My voice trails off as I turn my hand.
After a moment, unable to hold back, I start getting to my feet. Van is still convulsing and gasping on the floor, his eyes glowing wildly, but all I can focus on is the thousands – maybe even millions – of tiny light pinpricks that suddenly seem so very close. And as I stand upright, I find that the little stars are all around me now. I feel some of them bumping against my face, burning me slightly, but none of that matters. Instead, I simply raise my hands and watch several more stars burning up as they touch my fingers.
This can't be real.
None of this can be real.
And yet -
“Move!”
Suddenly something slams against me, and I let out a startled cry as I'm thrown hard against the ground. Before I can even react, somebody grabs my shoulders and starts dragging me through the long grass, until finally I'm dumped on the ground and I look up to see a breathless Duncan towering above me.
“What were you two doing?” he asks.
“I only -”
“Tell me!” he shouts.
“He had this powder!” I stammer. “But I didn't take any, I swear! He took some but I didn't! And then -”
“Van!” Jessica calls out, rushing past us. “Van, are you okay?”
“Stop!”
Duncan grabs her and pulls her back, and then he steps in Martin's way.
“What's happening to him?” Jessica sobs, trying again to get past Duncan as I slowly stand on wobbling legs. “What's wrong with my son?”
“Your son has taken something he shouldn't have,” Duncan snarls, pushing her back. “It's a substance used to hook people into working for miners who congregate at the soul auction. I don't know where he got it, but it's a violent drug. It's so powerful, it leeches out from the mind of its original victim and effects people standing nearby, even if they didn't take any themselves.”
“That's impossible!” Jessica spits back at him. “Van would never touch anything like that!”
“His eyes are glowing,” Martin says, stepping past Duncan. “Why are his eyes glowing?”
Duncan grabs his arm. “That's the least of your concern,” he says firmly. “He hasn't taken much, but he's only a child. That s
tuff could rip him apart from the inside out.”
Martin tries to pull free, but Duncan holds him firmly.
A moment later Jessica again rushes past, only for Duncan to grab her arm and pull her back.
“If you go over there,” he tells them, “it'll get into your minds as well, and then you won't be able to help him when he recovers. If he recovers. You'll be just as addicted as he is. That's one of the ways this thing gets around.”
“But my son -”
“You'll be lucky if he lasts the night!” Duncan snaps, pulling her aside and then shoving her toward her husband. “This isn't the first time he's used this thing. Where did he get it? He certainly didn't find it growing by the side of the road in some dead-end backwater dump.”
“That man,” Martin says, his face suddenly going pale. “He talked to Van alone, just before setting off the other day.”
“He was a lovely man!” Jessica sobs. “He'd never do something like this!”
“Is Van going to be okay?” I ask, stepping over toward Duncan and then watching as Van continues to convulse in the long grass. I can see his eyes still glowing, although my own hallucinations seem to have faded away.
“I'll nurse him,” Jessica whimpers. “I'll bring my boy back to full health.”
“You can't do anything for him right now,” Duncan says darkly. “Whether he lasts until the end of this trip is down to luck.”
“But -”
“And that's all!” he adds, turning to Jessica. “If you go over to him, you'll make yourself feel better but you won't be helping him one bit. The time for you to help him is in the morning, if he's still alive. That's when he'll start craving more of that stuff, and it's when you have to turn around and go home.”
“We're on our way to the soul auction!” Jessica stammers.
“If you go,” Duncan replies, “your son will die.”
She shakes her head.
“He'll get more of that stuff,” he continues, “and it'll spread from his mind and into yours, and then you'll get addicted too. It won't just be your son who dies. It'll be your whole family. It spreads like rot from mind to mind, and before long there'll be nothing left of you except three dry corpses in a derelict home. And that's the best case scenario, because the worst case scenario is that maybe somebody else will catch the addiction from the three of you.”
“We've arranged to buy a wife for Van,” Martin says. “She arrives next month.”
“Then you'd better start cleaning him up,” Duncan replies. “And that starts right now, with you leaving him alone to fight his way through this thing. All you can do now is pray that he survives.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you sure we can't just take a short trip to the soul auction?” Jessica asks, hurrying around the caravan in the morning as Martin and Duncan finish strapped Van to a board in the rear. “Just for an hour or two?”
“You can't take the risk,” Duncan replies firmly, as he tightens one of the ropes around Van's waist. “This powder is how they get people hooked. Your only hope for your entire family is to go home right now.”
“But if we go home...”
Jessica's voice trails off for a moment.
“I mean,” she continues, “there's nothing there. It's just a house, and the mud farm, and...”
“At least we'll have each other,” Martin tells her, “and Van's wife when she arrives too.”
“I know,” Jessica says, with tears in her eyes, “but this is the only chance we'll ever get to visit a real soul auction. It was supposed to be a story we'd be able to tell our grandchildren one day.”
“You've been very lucky,” Duncan explains. “Your son survived the night, which means he's out of immediate danger. He's got no more of those rocks, which means no more powder, which means that hopefully you can nurse him through the withdrawal phase. If he's new to the stuff, he could be clear inside of a few weeks.”
“And you're sure we can't just pop into the soul auction?” Jessica pleads. “Not even for... I don't know, for five minutes?”
“I've already answered that question several times,” Duncan tells her. “I won't answer it again.”
“Can I go and speak to him?” I ask, nudging Duncan's arm. “Is it safe to go close?”
He pauses, before nodding.
As Duncan continues to explain some more details of the situation to Martin and Jessica, I clamber up onto the back of the caravan and see that Van is wide awake. He's staring at me, and he looks pale, but at least his eyes are no longer filled with those horrible lights.
“Untie me!” he whispers. “Hurry!”
“I can't.”
“That guy's insane!” he continues. “I was only having fun last night! None of you understand!”
“Your parents are going to take you home and look after you,” I explain. “You can't take that stuff anymore.”
“Home?” he spits, as if the word is coated in poison. “Why would I want to go home? My home is a pile of wood in the middle of a mud-field! There's nobody there! There's nothing to do!”
“You'll be alright,” I tell him. “You're -”
“Untie me right now,” he hisses, “or leave me alone! You're no use to me!”
“I'm sorry,” I reply, sniffing back tears, “but Duncan says you need to be looked after.”
“I don't care what that idiot says! I haven't done anything wrong! It's not fair to tie me up like this!”
“Goodbye,” I say, before turning and starting to climb down from the caravan.
“You felt it!” he snaps. “I know you did! It reached your mind too and you felt how good it is! Are you seriously saying you can live without feeling that again?”
Turning to him, I briefly think back to the way I seemed to stand up in the middle of all the tiny, red-hot stars. The sensation was beyond anything I've ever felt before in my life, it was as if I was briefly transported to another world, but at the same time I was also scared. I think I want to keep my feet firmly on the ground from now on, even if that means that I'm boring.
“Get back here!” Van hisses. “Don't you dare walk away from me!”
“We should get going,” Martin says, although he sounds incredibly weary.
Heading over to join Duncan, I turn to watch as Martin and Jessica climb back into the caravan. They look broken, and I can still hear Van calling out for help. It's scary to realize how much he changed after he took that powder, but Duncan says he'll be okay and I can only hope that he's right. As the caravan turns and rumbles back along the road, I tell myself that they'll all be fine.
“Goodbye,” Martin says, nodding at us.
“Goodbye,” Jessica adds, with a hint of regret in her voice.
“Goodbye,” the horse says.
“What?” I gasp, stepping back.
They're already off on their way, but for a moment I'm too shocked to know how to react.
“Did that horse...”
I swallow hard.
“Duncan, did that horse just... speak?”
“We're a couple of hours behind schedule,” Duncan says, turning and walking past the ridge. “Come on. The sooner I get you out of this place, the sooner I get back to things that actually matter.”
***
“Keep up!” Duncan calls out, as I struggle across yet more large, sharp boulders. “You're lagging behind!”
“Can't we rest for a few minutes?” I ask. “I've never -”
Suddenly I slip, and I let out a brief yelp as I slither down between two of the boulders. I manage to grab onto the edge, but I wince as I feel my skin getting torn, and then when I come to a halt I look at my hand and see a patch of blood. I immediately feel tears in my eyes, but I quickly force myself to hold them back as I start clambering back up onto the top of the larger boulder.
Duncan is even further ahead now.
I suppose he didn't hear me fall.
Well, that's good. I don't want him to think that I'm some kind of weak little thing
.
“I can keep up just fine,” I grumble, as I climb over the boulder and then leap onto the next. “I just wish there was an easier route, that's all. I bet he's only bringing us this way because he knows I'll find it hard.”
For the next few minutes, all I can do is continue to struggle across the boulders. I manage not to fall, although I almost slither down a couple of times. My arms and legs are starting to ache, but there's no way in the world I'm going to admit that to Duncan so I force myself to keep going until finally I see that he's stopped up ahead. I suppose even Duncan gets tired sometimes, and as I catch up to him I feel a flash of relief as I realize that maybe we can stop for a little while.
“About time,” I say with a sigh. “Don't you ever -”
“Quiet!”
Before I can ask what's wrong, he places a dusty hand against my mouth.
“Bandits,” he whispers. “Over there, to the east.”
I look the way he's looking, and I realize I can see a plume of smoke rising into the mid-morning sky. I can also hear a faint jangling sound, accompanied by occasional bursts of laughter.
“Looters, more like,” Duncan continues, keeping his voice low. “They plague the roads leading to any soul auction, hoping to steal from people who are carrying valuables. Then they try to sell their haul at the auction's lower-level markets.” He pauses for a moment. “They're scum, but anyone who travels these roads should know to look out for them.”
“Do they hurt people when they steal from them?” I ask.
He looks down at me.
“I think,” he says cautiously, “you'd be better off not knowing what they do.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“So what do we do now?” I ask.
“We go around them,” he explains. “I could fight through them, but there's no point wasting the energy. Bandits are all over the place, no-one can get rid of them entirely. They're just an inevitable by-product of everything that's going on at the soul auction right now.”
“Will they hurt us if they find us?” I ask, although I immediately realize that I know the answer to that question. “Can we sneak around them?”