The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  Flint opened his mouth but whatever he had planned to say was abruptly interrupted. The orb on his wrist flared with light, and began chiming frantically. Flint lifted his arm and brushed the glowing orb with his fingertips; the next moment, to Xander’s surprise, Ari’s voice rang out in the silent room.

  ‘Flint, we’ve got a situation. I’m heading over now.’

  ‘Where?’ Flint was all business now.

  ‘At the ford,’ she said.

  ‘On my way,’ Flint snapped. The glow disappeared from his orb and he swung around to Xander. ‘You, get back to Thea and stop wandering around before you get into more trouble.’ Without waiting to see Xander’s response, he turned to the hobgoblin, who had been silently watching. ‘We’ll continue this discussion later,’ he warned, before his eyes flicked back to Xander. ‘Why are you still here? Move.’

  Almost before the sound of his last word faded, Flint’s orb had flared once more and he disappeared.

  Xander glanced at the hobgoblin, in time to catch him staring with a speculative glint in his eyes.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’d better, um –’

  He swallowed and gestured awkwardly to the door.

  The hobgoblin nodded, his thin, callused fingers still stroking the stone in his hand with an odd gentleness. His cold, strange eyes never left Xander’s face.

  ‘Indeed,’ he agreed, his voice a low rasp. ‘You should go. Be careful, Xander King. This is a dangerous place for one such as you.’ He turned away and sat down by the fireplace. It was clearly a dismissal.

  Xander emerged, blinking, into the street, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the bright morning light after the dimly-lit shop. Feeling rather unnerved, Xander decided that he had better heed Flint’s instruction to rejoin Mrs Stanton. He turned into the main thoroughfare but, as he did so, he couldn’t help wondering whether the hobgoblin had meant his last comment as a warning, or a threat.

  *

  Following Mrs Stanton’s earlier instruction, Xander followed the broad street up to where it opened out into a large square. With a sudden shock of recognition, he realised that he was right back at the place where he had arrived in Haven only two days before, although in some ways it felt to Xander like a lifetime had passed. It was as busy as he remembered, and he looked around at the massive, stately buildings that bounded it, with their huge doors and ornate windows.

  A moment later he started as a light hand touched his shoulder and turned to find Mrs Stanton behind him. Katie promptly held up her wrist with a proud smile, as she displayed a lemon yellow orb, and Xander quickly assumed an impressed expression as she twisted it so that the sunshine made it sparkle.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ he told her, as Mrs Stanton’s eyes twinkled at him. ‘I think that’s definitely the best yellow.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ she said, in deep satisfaction. ‘I’m going to practice and practice so that I can surprise Ollie and Len when they get home.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Mrs Stanton. She turned to Xander and pointed across the square, drawing his attention to one of the enormous buildings, with a line of closed doors across the front. ‘Speaking of which, that building over there is the Academy, Xander. If you ever want to meet Ollie from school, you just wait at the bottom of the steps there.’

  She gave Xander a moment to look and then turned back to the way they had come. ‘Time to head home now, however,’ she said. ‘I’m expecting a couple of patients soon and I also want to have a quick check on that injury of yours, Xander, and make sure it’s healing up.’

  ‘And I have a lot of practicing to do with my orb,’ added Katie, importantly.

  Mrs Stanton met Xander’s eye again, with a suppressed smile, as they walked back towards the gates. As they passed the little side-street where the hob’s shop lay, Xander could not help his gaze lingering on the gently swinging sign, with a shiver for the strangeness of the occupant and his foreboding words.

  *

  Back at Woodside, Mrs Stanton drew Xander into her little dispensary again, leaving Katie sitting at the kitchen table clutching her orb hand and staring fixedly at a teaspoon with a determined frown on her face.

  Xander wrinkled his nose as the bandage came off, and risked a quick peek at his palm. The gel that Mrs Stanton had treated it with on his arrival was obviously remarkable, as he had not felt even the smallest twinge of pain since, but he wasn’t sure whether the abrasion would still look as gory. The gel had turned to a faint pink but, as Mrs Stanton gently cleaned it off, it was clear Xander’s palm had healed dramatically. His skin was still swollen and red-tinged, but there was no more blood and Mrs Stanton made approving noises as she examined it.

  ‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘You obviously heal up well, Xander. This doesn’t even require a dressing now, although you’ll need to be careful with it until it’s fully healed.’ She turned Xander’s hand towards the window, and then smiled at him. ‘You’re going to have a rather interesting scar there, however.’

  She released him and chose some phials of colourful liquids and powders from her shelves. ‘I’ll mix you up a salve to complete the healing process and I want you to dab it on your palm in the morning and before you go to bed, okay?’

  She glanced over at Xander, who nodded in response before turning back to his own examination of his hand. Mrs Stanton was right; amidst the redness of the newly-healed skin shone a pale starburst of the same silvery scars as Xander had seen on the twisted wreck of Alvin Tavish’s face, and running down the side of Flint’s cheek. He frowned, remembering old Tavish’s claim that he could sense the shade-strike, and wondered what Flint would say when he saw the mark.

  He was still pondering on that when Mrs Stanton handed him a small pot of salve and they went back out to the kitchen, where Katie was now glaring at the immobile teaspoon lying inoffensively in front of her. As they watched, she lifted her wrist to examine the orb, and then shook it with a professional air, before squinting furiously at the spoon again. Xander heard Mrs Stanton choke quietly behind him. At the same moment, Katie swung around on her chair.

  ‘Graaan,’ she wailed. ‘My orb doesn’t work.’

  Mrs Stanton exchanged looks with Xander and then took a deep breath, before pulling up a seat beside Katie at the table. ‘It works perfectly well, dear,’ she said calmly. ‘It just takes concentration and a great deal of practice.’

  Katie pouted and Xander grinned to himself, before heading out of the kitchen. He had a strong suspicion that this practise session would take quite some time.

  *

  ‘C’mon, you lot, we’re leaving now.’

  The loud voice from the hallway echoed up the stairs and Xander looked up from the reference book he had found on the floor in Ollie’s room. After the uncomfortable scene with the hobgoblin earlier he had decided that it would be better if he tried to educate himself about Haven, so he would be less likely to do or say things that immediately identified him as an outlander. This book had seemed like a good start but he was still finding it rather jarring to read a scholarly tome that covered seriously such topics as, ‘the role of pixie pollination in agricultural advancement’ and ‘gnome economics’.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Xander asked, as Ollie shoved his chair back from the cluttered desk where he had been dashing through his homework.

  ‘Dunno,’ Ollie replied. ‘But it’ll be better than doing this stuff. Who cares about the legal history of the guilds anyway?’

  Xander grinned sympathetically, although privately he thought Haven’s history was far more interesting than his own lessons with Mr Tubner.

  The two boys thundered down the stairs and found Len already waiting in the hallway, her hair neatly brushed and a mutinous expression on her face. Mrs Stanton bustled out of the kitchen, shepherding Katie.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want someone to come and fetch you later, Jenna?’ she called.

  Jenna Stanton poked her head around the door.

  ‘That’s kind but do
n’t worry, Thea. I could do with a bit of peace and quiet to catch up on my paperwork.’ Her eyes flickered over Ollie, Len and Xander standing in the hall and she smiled. ‘Be good and enjoy the Gathering, kids. Don’t forget to look after Xander, Ollie.’ She disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Ollie beaming.

  ‘A Gathering tonight?’ He turned to his grandmother to confirm. ‘Awesome.’

  ‘Hardly,’ muttered Len. ‘Can’t I just stay here with Jenna?’

  Mrs Stanton clucked her tongue as she swept them all along in her energetic wake. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Sitting stewing in your bedroom is not a healthy use of your time.’

  Len’s snort was lost in the shuffle of getting out of the front door, where Ari was waiting for them in the garden, her red hair ablaze in the low evening sun. Her freckles seemed more numerous than ever in the rich golden light and her eyes danced as she walked over to them.

  ‘Ready?’ she asked, in her lilting voice. She held out both hands towards them. ‘Grab on then.’

  Xander took a firm grasp of her wrist and screwed his eyes shut. He still found jumping unsettling, and he didn’t like to think about what might happen if he lost his grip on Ari halfway through. When he opened his eyes again, staggering slightly, they were no longer in the Stantons’ garden. Trunks of tall trees rose around them and the evening light filtered down through a thick canopy of leaves. In front of them, and looking quite incongruous in the middle of the forest floor, was an intricately-carved stone pillar, about waist high, from which a well-trodden path led away through the trees. Xander could hear the distinct murmur of many voices coming from that direction and a faint smell of wood-smoke wafted towards him. Ari headed for the path.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We should clear out of the way. There may be other people trying to come through.’

  Xander hurried to catch up with her.

  ‘What was that stone?’ he asked curiously. ‘Is it like a Traveller’s Stone?’

  Ari glanced sideways at him, her smile flashing out again. ‘I sometimes forget this is all new to you,’ she said. ‘That’s just a way-marker. There’s no power in it.’

  ‘What’s it for then?’ asked Xander.

  ‘It’s a guide,’ explained Ari. ‘Did you see the carvings on it?’ When she saw Xander nod, she continued. ‘They’re unique to the location. It means you can always find any Lodge, not to mention a convenient landing spot outside of the ward when you are jumping. Traveller kids learn the way-markers of every Lodge from when they are little, so that by the time they are capable of a jump they can always find their way. There was one at Mistleberry but it’s so overgrown that you probably missed it.’

  They broke out of the trees into an enormous clearing and Xander stopped to look around. It was like Mistleberry but much larger and without the air of desertion. The door of the main Lodge was thrown open, and the evening sun reflected off the many windows and the hanging lanterns between them. The grassy glade was full of brightly-hued marquees and tents, small and large, interspersed with many hearth-fires. Some of the hearths were metal braziers filled with the glowstones Xander had seen before, but a few of the bigger ones were burning real wood, sending pale swirls of grey smoke up into the evening sky and imbuing the air with a homely tang. People were everywhere, moving between the tents and the Lodge, sprawling on bright, woven rugs by the fires or sitting on low, carved wooden benches. Children raced about, bringing armfuls of branches and sticks from the surrounding woods to dump in piles by the bonfires, while others carried trays of food to the cooks bustling about long tables and braziers, from which the rich aromas of roasting meats were already rising. Glass globes, each with a glowstone inside, were suspended from the trees edging the glade and glimmered in pale gold and white, their illumination still faint in the summer evening light.

  Ari was evidently popular among the younger ones, who called out cheerful greetings to her and beamed when she acknowledged them. Xander felt curious eyes observing him and hung back behind the Stantons as they entered the clearing, but Ari would have none of it. She grabbed his hand and pulled him forwards.

  ‘You’re with me,’ she said firmly to him. ‘It’s fine. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

  Xander allowed himself to be towed forward, and tried to ignore the stares and the whispering that grew in volume as he passed the various hearths. He finally looked up when Ari came to a halt by a large bonfire on the far side of the clearing. There were quite a number of people sitting around the fire, or standing chatting quietly. With a shock of recognition, Xander saw the white haired man from the British Museum standing near Flint and Ari headed straight over to him.

  ‘Xander, meet Rafe,’ she said, tugging Xander forwards, before releasing his hand. ‘Rafe, this is Xander. He was at the museum, remember?’

  The man smiled at Xander.

  ‘How could I forget?’ he said. ‘It was a most memorable afternoon.’

  Xander smiled somewhat uncertainly at him, not quite sure how to answer that. Ollie had already disappeared into the crowd but Len marched past him and sat cross-legged on a blue and yellow woven mat near the fire. Her expression was not particularly welcoming, but Xander saw the advantages of keeping a low profile and he joined her. A moment later he jerked as a feeling like soft feathers brushed his arm and, as he looked around, he met the cool pale gaze of the big black dog. It regarded him thoughtfully, one ear flicking towards him, a hint of the same challenge in its eyes that had drawn Xander to step into the unknown in the museum. Xander stared back just as solemnly and then smiled.

  ‘Look what you got me into, dog,’ he murmured to it. The dog ignored that, laying down beside him and resting its heavy head on his leg, before insistently nudging at his hand until he scratched behind its ears.

  ‘Suse likes you.’ Rafe was looking down with a little smile, but his eyes were thoughtful. ‘That’s unusual.’

  He said nothing further but Xander felt obscurely comforted by the acceptance, even if it was only from a dog. Despite his hair providing some concealment as it flopped over his face, he could still see people out of the corner of his eyes, pointing him out to others or staring. Len provided no help as she sat glowering into the fire and Xander couldn’t think of anything to say to her to start a conversation, so he bent his head lower and petted the dog’s head. Several pairs of boots crossed Xander’s eye line, and then stopped.

  ‘There you are, Flint,’ said a firm voice. Xander glanced up to see a tall figure looming over him, a couple of other men standing just behind. ‘Wooten is looking for you. He wants an update on border security.’

  Flint snorted. ‘Really?’ he asked, wryly. ‘I thought there was no issue with security, or so he is maintaining, I hear.’

  The other man laughed, his serious face lightening into a warm grin.

  ‘You know Wooten. In his view there’s nothing so bad that energetically ignoring it won’t make go away,’ he replied flippantly. ‘However, old Tavish has been in his ear again and even Wooten can’t stand up against that level of complaining. Anyway, he wants to talk to you.’

  The man glanced down, catching Xander watching him. His gaze flickered over Xander, quick and piercing, then back to Flint. ‘This is the kid I’ve been hearing about?’ he asked.

  Despite his preference of avoiding attention, Xander disliked being talked about as if he wasn’t there. He got to his feet, standing as tall as possible. The man had an aura of power and command about him that made Xander feel rather insignificant, but he lifted his chin and straightened his back, trying to look more confident than he felt. Flint’s lips quirked as he glanced back and forth between the two of them.

  ‘Meet Xander King,’ he said. ‘Xander, this is Kirrin Ledger, one of the Wardens of the Travellers, which makes him a very important person now.’

  Ledger stuck out a hand. ‘Ignore him,’ he said, in a deadpan voice. ‘I’m newly appointed to my position, as Flint will doubtless inform you; but, to be fair, he’s alwa
ys had issues with authority.’

  Flint snorted derisively again but a grin tugged at his lips. Xander decided to ignore this by-play and shook the proffered hand, then the man looked intently at Xander’s other hand.

  ‘May I see?’ he asked.

  Silently, Xander held his left hand out and Ledger gripped it with both of his own, tilting it to examine in the light. The silvery, starburst pattern was becoming even clearer now that the redness and swelling were subsiding further.

  ‘Shade-strike,’ said Flint, laconically. ‘But, as you see, not the usual result. Apparently, he managed to shield to some degree but he doesn’t know how.’

  Ledger released Xander’s hand and eyed him with new interest. ‘Unusual,’ he agreed. ‘Hopefully we’ll be able to get to the bottom of that and why the kid is a shade-magnet, or so I hear.’ Flint made a non-committal noise and Ledger gave him a straight look. ‘There are questions being asked, of course,’ he said coolly. ‘It’s very curious that an outlander kid has abilities only ever seen in Travellers. Do you have any family from Haven?’ The question was abruptly shot at Xander, the man’s gaze sharp and penetrating.

  ‘No,’ replied Xander. ‘I never even heard of Haven before I came here.’

  ‘As I said, curious,’ said Ledger to Flint, and Xander got the impression that more was being silently communicated.

  ‘There you are.’ Ollie almost fell over Len’s legs in his haste to reach Xander. He was also precariously balancing three plates piled high with food and might have tipped the lot over Len, if Flint had not reached out to balance him. ‘I got us food. What are you doing hanging round here?’ His voice tailed off, as he looked around the group, taking in the fact that he had clearly interrupted a serious conversation, and he flushed.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said to Ledger, awkwardly. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  Ledger nodded, with a gracious smile. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘We’re finished for now. You kids head off and eat.’