The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2)

by Sethlen, Aron

  Pard grazes Selby’s hand, and she forces a smile to Miles.

  Miles winks at her and spins away. “Go! I’ll meet you at the cave.”

  Pard and Selby burst outside into the courtyard and don’t slow. They breathe heavy, their eyes fix on the small pebble and snow-covered path peeking through the edge of the evergreen forest.

  At the entrance into the forest, Selby comes to a stop, and Pard does the same.

  “We need to keep putting distance between us and the castle,” Pard says.

  Selby glances back and forth between Pard and the forest. “I don’t know if I can go with you.”

  “Why not? We’re in danger here, we need to keep moving.”

  “You’re in danger, Pard, they’re after you, not me. So that thing the woman did with the light in the cathedral, was that the same light you used to kill Nero?”

  “I don’t know,” Pard says, “it felt like something different. Like she was using me, but in control.”

  “And what was that woman doing talking inside of my head?”

  “I think technically all of you were inside of my head, but that’s just a guess. Somehow she connected to me with a light; maybe she’s a seeros too. But she had complete control of me then cast a spell that set Fairstone on fire.”

  “How can she control you? That’s impossible.”

  Pard looks down at the ground as he tries to remember what it felt like. “I don’t know, it was as if she had control of my body and used my energy to cast her will, that’s the best way I can explain it.”

  “What did it feel like? Did it hurt?”

  “It felt like nothing at first, except I was a puppet on a string. Then after I cast the light all my energy rushed out of my body, and I couldn’t breathe and my legs weakened.” Pard stares back at Fairstone. Black smoke billows into the sky forming dark menacing clouds. Flames ebb and flow extending high above the roof and turrets. Fires burst out the windows and the glass shatters, fire reining down melting the snow. Most of the boys stand well away from the castle, huddling in large groups watching on in shock and awe as the thousand-year-old school burns.

  Pard sighs. “What have I done? And Professor Videl.” He lowers his forehead into his hands to hide his face in shame. “I destroyed everything.”

  Selby moves in closer to Pard and removes his hands. “It wasn’t your fault. Look at me.” She stares into Pard’s sad eyes. “I have to get home to my mother. She probably heard about father by now and will be devastated.”

  Pard forces a halfhearted smile. “I understand.” He glances toward the road paralleling the forest. “You should go, it’s not safe especially if you’re with me.”

  Selby leans in closer.

  Pard’s fear flees him for the moment, and he loses himself, focusing only on Selby’s lips. Pard leans in, and then, as if time stops, their lips touch. His insides warm, it’s the most strange and wonderful sensation he’s ever felt.

  Boom—

  Crash—

  One of Fairstone’s turrets crumbles and cascades to the ground into a smoldering dusty pile of flaming rubble.

  Pard and Selby both snap out of their connection, and she inches away, with Pard not moving, still left wanting more.

  “I better be off,” Selby says.

  “Right, I know.”

  Selby gently caresses Pard’s fingers. “Where will you go?”

  “Far away from here.”

  “If you ever come back to Greysin, you better come find me, Pard Wenerly.”

  Pard smiles. “I never want to leave you.”

  Selby beams and glances away, embarrassed and overjoyed at the same time. She turns back toward him, and her glowing smile turns into a concerned frown. “You be safe, Pard. Take good care of Miles, we both know he needs it.”

  Pard purses his lips and nods. “I will, Selby. You should probably go now.”

  Selby slowly backs away, her arms outstretch with Pard’s until only their fingertips touch. They slip apart.

  “I’ll miss you, Pard Wenerly. I’ll always think of you.”

  Pard sighs. “Me too, Selby Barrow, me too.”

  Selby flicks her head toward the path. “Get moving before they come for you.”

  Pard walks backward onto the snow-covered pebble path and into the pines. His eyes lock on Selby until the thick evergreens obscure her body, and then, as quickly as Pard’s love was found and fulfilled, it fades into the darkness of the canopy.

  NO JOKING MATTER

  Pard huddles in the Rue cave with his back against the hard, jagged rock, reliving the madness of the last two hours, from the joy of watching Miles Marlow’s epic defeat of Yitch, then him set free for the death of Nero, to the ensuing chaos he could never imagine in his wildest nightmarish dreams. Then Professor Videl and the others killed by Eeva, to his school and home destroyed in a fiery blaze, to the wonder of the most glorious sweetest sensation ever, Selby Barrow’s succulent lips, and just as fast, not having them pressed against his, and her gone, gone maybe forever, and now here he is, alone in the dark, damp, cold cave with nowhere to run with Eeva and Alexa and Penter and Star on the hunt for him.

  Pard sighs and stares at the ceiling. “Why me? Figures, just my luck.”

  “It’s all because you’re a light wielding, brainy, ladies man, badass,” Miles says, hunched over entering the cave.

  Pard springs to his feet. “You made it!”

  “Sure did. Dang, you really did a number on Fairstone. I think it’s safe to say old Fergie's firm butt cheeks won’t be inspiring many new students anytime soon.”

  Pard snorts. “Really? You joke even now?”

  “Hey, got to keep the spirits high.”

  Pard lowers back down to the ground and sits. “What was so important that you had to go back to your room?”

  Miles sets his backpack on the ground.

  Pard clicks on his light stick and illuminates the dark cave.

  Miles thrusts a pair of underwear and socks in front of Pard.

  “Seriously, you went back into a burning castle with maniacal assassins for underwear and socks?”

  Miles shakes his underwear. “Never underestimate the value of hygiene and the benefits and comfort of clean underwear and dry socks. Who knows where we’re going and how long it will take us to get to wherever we’re off too. Personally, I think we should hightail it back to Latvin and my father’s.” Miles chuckles. “But still, that’ll take us months on foot. Not to mention it’s freaking cold.” Miles shivers and fishes out an extra sweater from his pack and slips it on.

  “We?” Pard says.

  “Umm, yeah, of course we. You think I can just let you wander off by yourself alone with those maniacs after you? You wouldn’t last two nights in the real world without me.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But, anyway, I don’t want you to put yourself at anymore risk for me.” Though inside, Pard is happy to not be alone, and to have someone to share his burden. He hopes he won’t really convince Miles to leave him on his own, but still, it would be wrong not to try, and he would still understand, Miles has done more for him than anyone since his parents, and he will always be grateful no matter what.

  “Shut up,” Miles says with a wave of his hand. “I’m not scared. And I’m going with you and will hear no more of it.”

  Pard smiles and shines his light into Miles’s pasty ghost-like face obscured half in shadow, strands of black hair droop over Miles’s right eye. Pard lowers the light back to Miles’s pack. “What else did you bring besides underwear?”

  Miles removes a large bundle wrapped in cloth and a leather pouch. “Loaf of bread and water pouch.”

  Pard nods. “We can definitely use those, good thinking.”

  “I thought so too.” Then he pulls out a dagger, a medium-sized leather pouch, and a few papers.

  “And what are those for?”

  “Dagger—self explanatory—and my identification papers.”

  “Much good those papers
will do for me.”

  “You never know, my papers carry weight being who I am and who my father is, and you traveling with me, I might be able to work a little of my own light magic. And—” Miles shakes the bulging pouch. Metal clangs and jingles, “A lord needs his purse.”

  Pard chuckles. “That’s a big purse.”

  Miles shrugs. “I’m a big lord.” He slides the items back into his pack. “We can’t sleep out in the wet and cold every night. Some coin is just what we need to put a roof over our heads and a warm meal in our stomachs. And we might be able to purchase a horse and cart or even a train ticket to hasten our journey.”

  Pard smiles, thinking Miles is right, he might not last two nights without him, who has obviously thought this through more than Pard. “Okay, good thinking. I admit, smart getting a few supplies, especially the coin.” Pard rubs his hands together and blows on them. “Getting cold.”

  Miles raises a flint stick. “And I brought a fire stick. So the question is, do we hang out here for the night or get as far away from the castle and starry-eyed weirdo face, dumb-dumb Penter, the scar woman, and the scary whip lady before dark?”

  Pard shrugs. “You got me. I guess we wouldn’t get far the rest of the day and we already have shelter here, so maybe we should stay here for the night and go at it fresh first thing in the morning.”

  Miles purses his lips as he thinks. “It will be dark in a few hours, so you got it, boss, here is home for the night. You dig a fire pit, and I’ll gather wood.” He stands up and turns back. “Oh yeah, one more thing.” Miles reaches into his pack and removes a scarf and a pair of mittens. He tosses the mittens to Pard then wraps the scarf around his own neck. “These should help you with your hands.”

  Pard tugs on the mittens. “Thanks, I was just wishing I had my old ones. They were in the pack Nox tossed in the fireplace.”

  “No problem.”

  After Pard scrapes a large pointed stone through the dirt and hollows out a spot for the fire. He lines the hole with flat, blackened, cracked rocks which appear they’ve been used over and over for the same purpose for a millennium. He leans back against the rock wall and reimagines his first kiss with Selby, and her sweet eyes looking at him. His insides warm and sink and warm again as he goes back and forth between the moment his lips were pressed against hers to wondering whether he’ll ever see her again. But after thirty minutes of day dreaming, something bothers Pard, and he stands up. “Miles has been gone a long time.” He steps toward the dimming entrance of the cave as the sun is setting. Rocks trickle down the slope as someone climbs the scree field toward the Rue cave.

  Pard places his hands on hips ready to scold Miles for taking so long. “There you are—it’s about time.”

  “Indeed, Pard Wenerly, it is,” Star says, entering the cave.

  Pard sucks in a breath and frantically shuffles away from the entrance. He paws the ground for anything to use as a weapon. Finding nothing but a small rock, Pard raises his light stick with a shaky hand.

  Star’s black and silver eye peer back at him.

  “Stay back!”

  “But we’re just getting to know each other.”

  Pard whips the rock, and it bounces off Star’s leather chest plate under his duster to no affect.

  “Did you just throw a rock at me?”

  “Umm, no.”

  Star shrugs. “Nice gadget there, Wenerly,” he says commenting on Pard’s light stick.

  “Where-where is Miles?”

  Star twirls his hand and arm in a wide arc then bows. “His highness, Lord Marlow, will join us forthcoming, Sir Wenerly.”

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?”’

  “Kill him?” Star chuckles with a faint whiny twang. “Of course I didn’t kill him. I have big plans for his lordship.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  Star grins and dips his head slightly down—his silver eye glimmers from the monocle and Pard’s light stick. “You’ll just have to wait and see, patience, patience, Sir Wenerly.”

  “How did you find us?”

  “Follow the bird, and he eventually flies to the nest.” Star steps forward, and Pard flinches. “Please, sit, get comfortable, we shall become fast friends.”

  Pard ignores Star and just stares at him, hand shaking, his light vibrating off the cave wall.

  “Sit!” Star says.

  With the command, Pard collapses into a seated position.

  “Good.” Star follows him to the ground. He eyes the cave and the Rue petroglyphs. “Nice get away you boys have. Rue I see, very interesting.”

  Pard lowers his head in defeat. “Yeah.”

  Star stares at the fire pit. “Already dug and ready to go. Very nice. It’s snowing again. We might as well stay right here tonight and head out in the morning. Bet that’s what your plan was.”

  “Something like that,” Pard says.

  “It was a good plan. Unfortunately, those inexperienced in these situations—” Star grins at Pard, “—should run like the wind, and not sit tight. Never ever sit tight, Sir Wenerly, that’s my advice for you. Because Star is always right behind you and two steps ahead of you at the same time.”

  “I’ll remember that next time I escape from you and am on the run.”

  Star leans in with his monocle side forward. Then points the tip of his dagger at Pard. “You better.” He recoils the dagger then taps the tip on the star tattoo under his eye.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Pard says.

  Star twirls his burnished blade and tosses the dagger in the air then catches the hilt without looking. “Ha!”

  Pard flinches and slams his back against the rock. His spine kisses jagged stone making him wince, but he tries not to show Star any sign of physical pain.

  “No, no, I’m not going to kill you. Though far more dangerous and scary people then Star may have their way with you soon enough.”

  Pard glances away. “Great, thanks for making me feel better.”

  “Is that Star’s job? Is Star here to make Pard Wenerly feel better? Okay, here it goes, everything will be fine and you’ll be safe and sound in a warm bed away from wonderful people like Star. There, feel better, Pard Wenerly?”

  Realizing Star isn’t going to kill him, because that’s the job for Eeva, Pard relaxes. “Why are you after me? Is this because I killed Yitch’s cat?”

  Star chuckles in a high-pitched maniacal way that vibrates Pard’s brain. “The cat? The cat?” He rhymes and sings, “The cat the cat that fat old cat once sat on a tiny gnat which made it jump on a mat then it scurried for the slat which I reached for a bat and swatted the cat and made a fine furry hat.” Star continues to chuckle as he wipes a tear from his eye. His face almost transitions back into something normal. Star then eyes Pard in a semi-serious way as he sways the tip of his dagger. “Yes, Pard Wenerly, Star is here to take you away from Fairstone because you killed the cat.”

  “Really?” Pard says.

  Star unleashes another flurry of high-pitched maniacal laughs, and he rocks back and forth unable to control his hysteria. His monocle attached to his black leather skullcap rattles.

  “Whatever,” Pard says as he turns his body away from him.

  Star nods. “I like you, Pard Wenerly.”

  “Unhand me with your meat claws, dumb-dumb Penter,” Miles says from the cave entrance.

  Pard’s ears perk up, and he straightens his back.

  Star angles his body to the side. “Here is your friend now, Pard Wenerly, safe and sound for Star to joke with tonight. Feel better, Sir Wenerly?” Star blows on the tip of his blade as if blowing out a candle.

  Miles stumbles into view with an armload of wood, and Penter shoves him forward.

  Miles staggers, drops the wood, and almost collides with Star, but just barely shifts his weight to the side and tumbles around him and lands on the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Pard says.

  “Shit this sucks,” Miles says.

  Pard sighs a
s he eyes Star and Penter.

  Penter sits next to Star. “Should we take the Fairstone boys back to the ladies tonight, or stay here?”

  Star circles the tip of his blade around his tattoo as he stares at Miles in a seductive trance. “Oh, Penter, a night in the woods with Star is exactly what Lord Marlow needs.”

  “What do you have in mind with the boy?”

  “Just focus on your maps and charts and I’ll keep my surprise for the lower lord to myself.” Star giggles. “But we should make a fire before it gets dark.”

  Hours pass and Pard and Miles huddle next to each other with backs against the cave wall as they stare at the flickering flames dancing out of the pit.

  Pard whispers, “What are we going to do? We can’t stay here. We need to figure out a way to escape.”

  “I don’t know,” Miles says, “but we need to figure something out quick. Star man is freaking me out with his knife twirling and crazy eye. He keeps looking at me like he knows something about me that I don’t, and something bad is about to happen.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much, he’s just all talk.” Pard keeps his earlier conversation with Star to himself to not scare Miles. Think, think, think. Pard eyes Penter sleeping and leaning against the cave wall directly across from them, his legs extend flat out in front of him and cross at his ankles, and a black hood shrouds his eyes, exposing only a glimmer of his nose, mouth, and chin. Pard’s attention shifts to Star, ogling Pard’s light stick he took from him earlier.

  “This is an ingenious device,” Star says, “brilliant.”

  “That’s my friend’s, you star-face loser,” Miles says.

  Pard nudges Miles. “Shut up, don’t make him mad.”

  “Whatever,” Miles says in a hushed tone then raises his voice. “I don’t care what this idiot thinks.”

  Star’s gaze slowly rises in a creepy way with only his silver eye looking at Miles and Pard. The other half of his face is away from the fire and is masked in darkness. He sets Pard’s light stick on the ground and lifts his dagger.

  Miles scowls. “What are you looking at? You like teenage boys, stargazer?”

  Star, with a blank dead stare, looks through Miles as he taps the tip of his blade on his tattoo. “Lord Marlow—” He suddenly giggles in his high-pitched tone.