Aster Wood and the Lost Maps of Almara (Book 1)

by Cantwell, J. B.

  People and horses traveled every which way on the lane, but the majority of them were headed in a single direction. We followed the crowd silently, towards what I didn’t know. I studied the city around me. Aside from the roofs of the dwellings and shops, all the buildings here were made entirely of the same mottled, gray stone. Decoration, or color of any sort, was sparse on the storefronts. Either they didn’t care for such embellishment or they didn’t have the means for such things; the grimy, gray dress of the citizens around me made me suspect the latter. These people weren’t living in squalor, though, and aside from the occasional child with muddy cheeks, most faces were scrubbed clean.

  My eyes scanned the facades as I walked for any sign of Almara, but I found nothing. On one side of the street in front of a small shop, a butcher was cutting fish on a long table. Perched on his shoulder, a small gray tabby cat watched the scene with interest, waiting for the right moment to make his move. A small group of children were gathered around the man, absorbed as he chopped off head after head of the day’s catch.

  Thwack, went the knife.

  “Eeeeek!” squealed the children as the fish’s head jumped away from its body. The adults nearby smiled despite themselves, as did I. Three other smaller cats scampered about at the butcher’s feet, searching for fallen morsels.

  Farther down we passed a boy about my age, maybe twelve or thirteen, following behind an important looking man dressed in finer clothes than the rest of the crowd. The boy carried a satchel and a scroll of paper, which he was scribbling onto with a large, ornately decorated pen. The man spoke with authority to a shopkeeper, who wore a solemn look, and the boy paid me no notice as I passed by.

  As I continued on, the street got more crowded. I could see up ahead that the narrow passage became suddenly wide, and as we passed under the archway that marked the end of the road, I was deposited into a large, open square. Booth after booth of fruit, meat, linens, and trinkets were scattered about the place. People walked in every direction, large packages underneath their arms or strapped to their backs, as they went about their shopping. Kiron pulled me off to the side and spoke quietly in my ear.

  “This is the square shown on the map,” he said. “Whatever we’re looking for, it should be here. We’ll start in the middle and work our way out from there. We’ll search separately, it will call less attention to us, but stay close. I’ve heard of this place.” He looked warily around. “We’re unlikely to find friends here.”

  “Ok,” I said. “What if we get separated? Shouldn’t we have a place to meet or something?” I was getting nervous. I tried not to imagine what might happen to me here if my guide suddenly went missing.

  Kiron looked all around, and then up at the arch that hung over the entrance to the square.

  “Right here,” he said, gesturing to it. Carved into the enormous stones that made up the arch were the words Stonemore East. Behind where we stood was the door to a tailor’s shop. “We’ll meet at the tailor’s if anything happens, ok?”

  I nodded.

  “Remember, stay in sight. Stay close.”

  Together we dove into the market. I focused my attention on the merchants who sold the smaller items, trinkets and books, searching for anything bearing Almara’s mark. Kiron followed my lead and looked at the stalls opposite the ones I searched along the row. He had explained that not every link would be a paper map, even though the first three had been. He had instructed me to focus my attention on finding the symbol, no matter what it was drawn onto.

  The tables were stacked with pottery, little wooden boxes, the occasional silver pendant, cutlery, and every other mismatched item imaginable. I was lost in a sea of possibilities. I tried to stay focused on reaching the precise center of the square. The sellers watched me closely, but it was my hands they paid attention to. Of course, I was no thief, but in a busy place like this there must be plenty of kids looking to snatch treasures off of tables when nobody was looking. I kept my hands open and where the merchants could see them, and doing this I was able to work my way through the square without arousing suspicion.

  Patrolling the square were official looking men who rode gigantic black horses. They steered them up and down the rows two by two, their eyes constantly scanning for trouble. They were impressive and intimidating, dressed entirely in black, spears attached to the sides of their mounts. The people in the market moved out of their way as they passed, clearly not wanting to tangle with them. I steered clear as well. Mixing with what appeared to be the law was not something I was keen to do.

  I made it to what appeared to be the center of the square and turned on the spot, trying to measure the distance between myself and each of the four sides of the center. Kiron paused and nonchalantly inspected a table of pottery while he waited for me to move. This was as good a place to start as any. I stopped at a table that was piled high with small, metal cups. Their elaborate carvings caught my attention, and my eyes moved greedily over them, searching. The man behind the table stood up to his full height and peered down at me.

  “What’s your business here, son?” he asked. “What does a sprout like you need with wine cups?”

  I looked up into his face, my mouth falling open despite my best efforts to keep it shut. The man was huge.

  “Uh,” I stammered, taking in his wide stance and, unmistakably, the handle of a dagger that jutted out from underneath his coat. “I thought they looked very pretty. I’m, uh, looking for a gift,” I finally got out.

  “A gift?” he replied suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, trying desperately to recover a little of my courage. “I’m looking for a gift for my mother.” I may not be a thief, but in this case I had little choice but to lie.

  He rested his hands on the table, the tips of his fingers tense.

  “You have silver?” he asked.

  “I’m saving up, sir. May I…may I touch one?”

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “My name?” I asked stupidly. My mind raced to come up with a false name. I didn’t know why, but I felt that it would not be wise to tell the people here my true one. I grasped at the first one that came to mind, my father’s. “I’m Jack,” I looked about wildly, trying to think of an appropriate last name. The walls of the square, the cobblestone streets, the dress of the people, all led me to conclude, “Jack Gray.”

  The man stared at me for a moment, seeming to try to decide whether or not to believe me. I didn’t dare try to look to Kiron for help.

  “Well, Jack Gray, the answer is no, you may not touch one. But I will show them to you, one at a time. Which one would you like to see?”

  I let out a breath of relief, hoping that he didn’t notice, and pointed to a cup that had swirled etching all around the base.

  “That one there, please, sir.”

  He picked up the cup and held it out, turning it slowly in his hand to show off the detailing. The filigree wrapped all the way around, but no sacred symbol was there to be found. I asked him to show me another, and another, but it was the same with each. He must have seen the disappointment in my face.

  “Not fancy enough for your ma, eh?”

  “No, sir,” I replied. “These are very nice cups. But they’re not quite right.”

  “On your way then, Jack Gray.” He placed the last delicate cup back in its spot among the others. There was no mistaking his tone. I was dismissed.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said as I began to back away from the table.

  Suddenly his eyes widened in surprise, but I had no clue why. A moment later, I was struck with the force of one of the enormous, patrolling horses, and was knocked backwards off my feet onto the hard street. The horse’s hooves pranced next to my head in agitation. The backpack, unseen by everyone, had thankfully cushioned my fall. I was unhurt but for my two scraped palms.

  My palms didn’t worry me, though. What worried me was the face of the angry man coming down from his horse. He hovered over me.

&n
bsp; I don’t know why I hadn’t put it together before now, but suddenly my blood was liquid ice. I knew this man. Why hadn’t I seen the similarities? The dress of the soldiers who patrolled, the cobblestone streets, the ancient buildings on every side. This man, this man with dark eyes, came closer and closer.

  I shrunk from him. I feared him. He grabbed my shoulders to lift me to my feet with the force of a giant. He set me down hard with an angry shove and released my me, his dark, terrifying eyes boring into mine. They seemed to be without pupils. From the center of each eye to the edges of his irises was nothing but solid black.

  It was the face of the man from my dream, the face of the man who had chased me from this very place in my nightmare many nights ago.

  He opened his mouth, to say what, I never heard. I forgot Kiron, standing five feet away, mouth agape in shock. I forgot our quest. I forgot about getting back home to Earth. All that remained in my head was me and this man, and his proximity shook my very bones. I took advantage of the split second between his terrifying grip releasing me and the beginning of his tirade, ducked underneath his still outstretched arm, and ran.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I must have surprised them all, because nobody came after me at first. As soon as I rounded the first corner of tables set up in the square I ducked down as low as I could, sprinting for the closest exit. It wasn’t until I was already through and barreling down a side street that I heard them begin their pursuit.

  The cool air coursed through my lungs, and my light feet raced over the stone. My slightness was just the ticket. I took great care not to bump and jostle the people in the streets, a task made easier since this side of the city was less populated than the lane I had followed to the square. I wanted them to be so unconcerned with this boy running past that they forgot me almost as soon as I passed.

  As soon as I possibly could I darted into a narrow alleyway, not unlike the one I had arrived in, and continued to make turn after turn until I lost track of where I was. It didn’t matter. Escape mattered. After several changes in direction, I finally came upon an alcove that protected a forgotten back door. I huddled in the shadows, catching my breath and listening intently for any sign that my pursuers were closing in.

  I heard very little. It was quiet here, in the depths of the maze I had run into. Perhaps people occasionally came to this place, but mostly it looked unused. After several minutes I decided it was relatively safe, and I sat down to rest against the wall.

  What a mess. Twenty minutes in this place and I had already lost Kiron and called an enormous amount of attention to myself. How was I supposed to find the link to get back out of this place with an angry group of guards chasing me? Despite these considerable problems, I couldn’t help but feel elated at my easy escape. I had legs that moved so fast I felt certain that they must look blurred to anybody who happened to be watching. I put my hand over my chest, and I could feel the steady thumping of my heart underneath it.

  Would Kiron be found? Would someone figure out that he was associated with me? I didn’t know. My hair had set me apart from the city people, but he looked just like everybody else. Maybe no one had noticed that we had been traveling together. Maybe he would be ok.

  I rested for over an hour, too scared to do anything but hide. I wanted the dark man to forget all about me. Night quickly began descending, and I pulled out the map to look for new clues. There were none. The same maddening circle of gold glinted up at me, but no further instruction had emerged. So far I had seen nothing even close to resembling Almara’s symbol. I supposed that it could have been worse. What if we had arrived and everything had had the mark on it? How would we have chosen then? I made a plan to wait for the cover of darkness, and then set out to find Kiron back at our meeting spot.

  While I waited for night to fall in earnest I revealed the pack and had a lunch of sorts. Kiron had packed a variety of apples, nuts, bread and, of course, smoked chicken meat. I avoided the loudly crunching apples but chewed on the tough, dry meat. All the time I moved with extreme caution and listened for any disturbance on the tiny paths that had led me to this place, but no threat seemed to have followed me this far into the depths of the city.

  Once I could no longer see the sun hitting the top edges of the buildings around me, and the light in the alleyways became blue and murky, I stood up and considered which direction to head in. I couldn’t sit in this hiding spot forever.

  No sooner had I struck back out in my attempt to rejoin Kiron than I discovered I was completely lost. I had half expected him to come around the corner while I waited, but now I understood why I hadn’t seen him. No wonder nobody had found me. The little side alleys were weaved together into a labyrinth of possibilities. I had no idea which direction I had come from, and now I didn’t even have the light of the sun on the rooftops to keep me on a steady course. I walked along for what seemed like hours, though it could have been only minutes, but seemed to make no progress at all. Every time I tried to stay headed in a single direction I was greeted with a dead end, or an unexpected turn I had to take. Left, right, straight, left again, left, straight, right. I had no idea where I was going, only that my need to get out was increasing with each minute that ticked by.

  The tall walls seemed to push in on me from all sides. I could feel my breathing coming in shorter and increasingly panicked gasps. Breathe, I thought. You’re okay. It’ll be okay. Without realizing it my pace slowed and I came to a stop, leaning my back against a wall and lifting my chin to let the air into my constricting throat. Through the crowded rooftops above I could see a star poking through the deepening twilight, then another. Why had I waited so long? Why hadn’t I started moving when I had at least the shadows from the sun on the buildings to guide me? I was going to be stuck back here for the night, maybe longer, I was sure of it. Where would I sleep? Where would I hide? How would I ever find my way out and avoid capture at the same time?

  I slid down to the ground. The cold hard stone against my back kept me from toppling over from the dizziness that crept up the back of my neck and sent my head swimming. My chest clenched for the first time in many days. I dug my fingernails into the stone walkway, holding on to the earth as my breathing increased and the world began to turn upside down.

  But it wasn’t enough. The fog of unconsciousness settled over me, and I felt my forehead knock softly against the ground as my body slumped over.

  I woke many hours later in the same position. My body was stiff with cold. This frigid air had not settled on the city until deep into the night, and I my breath floated out in front of my face in small plumes of steam.

  I slowly sat upright, rubbing my head and trying to remember what had happened. The memory of panic came back to me, but the feeling of it was gone now. I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered, looking up to the starlit dome above. I had to get moving. My teeth began to chatter violently behind my numb lips.

  I hoisted myself upright, bracing against the wall again, but my feet were steady now. I chose a direction and set off, taking care to keep my tread quiet.

  I walked. And walked. For hours I simply kept on, grateful for the small warmth the easy action of walking brought to my body. The alleyways were dark, but not completely black. Somewhere in the sky, beyond the edge of the tall structures above me, a moon shone down.

  I had been an idiot. To think that ten hours ago I had actually felt a desire to stay in this deeper part of the Maylin Fold, to continue to gain strength, even though I was away from the people I cared about. My mom. Grandma. Now I was hunted, lost, and freezing.

  They must still be at the farm looking for me. What would they think about my disappearance? My stomach knotted as I imagined Mom’s face, fearful and guilty. She would think I had run away. She would think I had been so angry about being stuck at the farm that I had taken off. And later, when they didn’t find me, she would think I was dead, my body hiding somewhere in the countryside, lost forever.

  And Grandma; would she be blamed? Would
she get into some kind of trouble for not watching me more closely? I had been right under her nose, but now I was so far away that none of them would have been able to bring me home, not even if they knew where I was.

  I couldn’t think about that now. I had to stay focused, to stay on Almara’s trail. They might not be able to bring me home to Earth, but somewhere deeper in the Fold was the man who could send me.

  A dim light slowly began to creep into the alleyway, and suddenly my next turn to the left released me from the labyrinth in the buildings. I restrained myself from running right out into the lane ahead. My brain tried to cling to reason, and I stopped moving. I forced myself to wait, to listen.

  The night was very late, as I had guessed. Not a single person crossed on the narrow street in front of me as I hid in the shadows. A lit torch in the street cast a greenish glow on the storefronts, but nobody was out. I put my hand on my ax and cautiously stepped out into the open, breathing deeply, my chest relaxing for the first time in hours.

  I was ecstatic to be out of that maze behind the buildings. I was so relieved that I dropped my hand from the ax and barely bothered to keep an eye out for possible pursuers. It was luck alone that kept me from being caught at this time, for the cover of darkness also covered my own stupidity at letting my guard down so easily. But I couldn’t help my carelessness. The joy that came from being lost, and then suddenly not, was overwhelming. I chose a direction and walked briskly along in the dark shadows of the empty buildings.

  Soon I came to the entrance to the main square I had run from earlier. I peered around the edge of one side of the opening, but no one patrolled. It seemed that even those enormous black-clad guards had need of rest.

  I didn’t dare call out to Kiron, but my eyes searched for him in every shadow. He had to be here.