by J B Cantwell
I stood up straight as I looked over the city from the surrounding hills. I would be brave. The very least I could do was to force myself to be as brave as Rhainn had been.
For a time I watched the front gates, which were swung wide. People came and went, and though I searched and searched, I didn’t see a single guard watching the entrance to the city or patrolling the wall. While it would certainly be good news if The Shield was no longer pacing the gray streets, it seemed to me that some sort of caution would still be in order. Was nobody watching over the city?
But after a half hour of observing, and still seeing no hint of authority, I decided to take my chances. I moved out from behind the trees and began walking towards the gate, trying to look casual and confident with each step I took, the whole time willing my heart to stop beating so fast. As I approached, a handful of people passed me. Each smiled widely, nodding their heads to me in greeting. I tried to mirror their smiles, to look like them, happy and friendly. It must have worked because by the time I stood at the threshold to the city, nobody had seemed to take much notice of me at all.
I stepped into the street through the unguarded gate, and what I saw took my breath away.
Color. Everywhere. Where once the dull, gray buildings had all looked indistinguishable from one another, now they each burst with color, the personalities of their inhabitants painted in broad strokes on the outer walls for all the world to see. I walked down the lane in a daze, feeling that I had reached my destination but had remained lost at the same time.
My urgency seemed to slip away as I watched children run through the street, laughing and chasing each other. Thoughts of Rhainn evaporated as I studied the merchants, lined up along the outer wall of the city. Smiling widely at the people passing by, they occasionally shouted out advertisements for fish or vegetables to those who carried shopping baskets. Not a single guard crossed my path. I let the wave of people lead me all around until finally, as it had before, the stream of traffic turned down a main boulevard towards the center of town.
I was in awe. Too in awe to question what I was seeing, or the sudden lightness I felt after so many weeks of darkness. Flower boxes lined nearly every one of the windows above, and the vibrant colors of spring shouted from each tiny bed. On the street, two pretty brown-haired girls caught my attention. They stood on the edge of the lane, their frilly dresses fluttering carelessly in the breeze, and one of them pointed towards me and giggled. I smiled, my cheeks flushing. I smiled back at the one in pink, thrusting my hands into my pockets awkwardly, as I ambled by.
Something was tickling at the back of my brain, like I had forgotten something important that needed doing. But I wasn’t quite able to remember now why I had come to Stonemore. And I didn’t care.
The place had come alive. It was like a giant storm cloud had been lifted from the backs of the people, and now they floated about their lives weightlessly. It had been so long since I had seen people, any people, happy. I drank in the long-muffled song of Stonemore, thinking about how nice it must be to live here, with everyone walking around so vibrant and friendly. Perhaps I would stay.
“Child,” a man motioned to me from a stall of fruit. “Come over here.”
I grinned widely and walked his way.
“Here,” he said, holding out an apple to me. “Take this. You look hungry.”
A flash. A memory. Something I had forgotten. I blinked, trying to grasp it. But it floated away from me.
I shook my head to clear it, laughing. I was hungry. How had he known?
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “But I don’t have payment.”
“No payment required,” he said, chuckling. He dropped the apple into my hand.
I bit into the apple, the sweet juice trickling down my chin.
Suddenly the sky was the ground and the ground the sky, and I lost control of my legs. My world turned inside out. The pangs of hunger that had been plaguing me for months now shouted out loudly. The crunch of the apple had reminded my body of its near-starving state. And with the memory came the pain, of hunger, of fear, of loss, all at once. Jade’s wicked face flashed in my mind. Almara, walking without awareness into the depths of the sea.
And Rhainn.
A moment later, the sky had righted itself and I lay sprawled on the ground. The colors of the buildings above suddenly looked jarring and overdone, like a freshly painted amusement park. What had been pleasing a moment before now looked garish with the memory of why I was here.
“Oh, you poor boy!” the man with the apple exclaimed. He offered me his hand. “Are you alright, son?”
A small crowd had gathered around me, concern only momentarily outlining their features. When they saw my eyes open, and the man helping me back to my feet, their smiles returned. To them, all was well again. They dispersed quickly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
But it had.
I gripped my head with my hands, trying to keep it clear, the apple forgotten. Then I bolted away from the man without answering, panic flooding through me.
Something was wrong here. Really wrong.
I kept my eyes on the ground, taking care to look at nothing but the gray cobblestones at my feet, aiming for the center of the city. I knocked into people as I fled, but I didn’t care, and neither did they, it seemed. Had I been anywhere else, angry words might have been shouted in my wake, but I heard instead only mild observations.
“That boy is sure in a hurry!” one man said.
“Where is he going so fast?” said another I pushed aside.
One woman stood directly in my path, and I knocked her down in my haste.
“Oh!” she said to her friend as she splayed out onto the hard ground. “He surprised me!”
I didn’t have it in me to shout my apologies over my shoulder, and besides, none were required. It seemed my rudeness was forgotten within moments each time.
What had happened to this place I had known? I had to get to Kiron, or Chapman, or anyone I knew before I fell back under the spell. It reminded me of something I had experienced once, and my brain struggled to grasp the memory as my feet pounded the street. A sickly sweet dream I had once had on a beach. It had been a distraction, a trick of the Corentin’s, to get Almara away from us while we slept. To kill him.
I thought of that desolate beach, the one Jade, Almara and I had landed on right before we made our first link together. Watching my footsteps on the stone street now, I remembered the rocky shore that had turned to dark, hard sand as I had flown across it. Nice beaches had once existed, perhaps still did, where the sand was soft and white. I imagined my bare toes wiggling through millions of tiny grains of it, and the tension in my chest suddenly began to ease again.
In an instant, my mind seemed to float away. A warm, sweet feeling that reached all the way to the tips of my fingers soon drove away my panic, and as I ran, my resolve to get to the city center faded. I noticed a flower stand off to one side, and couldn’t help but take note of how pleasing it looked in the morning light. I slowed slightly, and vaguely wondered why I was running so fast. There was no reason, I told myself, and stopped altogether.
My flight over, I strolled absently down the lane. As I walked beneath the archway into the center square, I was entranced by the decorative state of the place. Long ribbons hung from lamp posts, waving in the breeze. Teenage girls in bright dresses skipped through the square, young men laughing on their heels. A sweet, tinkling music was coming from the other side of the square, and a group of people were dancing, their morning tasks forgotten.
How wonderful this place was. Where was I again? It didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was that I wanted to stay. The peace I felt swirled gently inside me, and I wandered over to the dancing crowd.
Dancing, I thought. What a brilliant idea.
I took it in for a moment, the steps, the air. Just out of sight the band played a lighthearted tune. My foot tapped in time to the music. My only discomfort was the grin on my face, so
wide that my cheeks were beginning to tire. Then, with the music swimming around in me, pulsing as if my very heartbeat depended on its rhythm, I could wait no longer. Though I didn’t know the steps, I felt sure that wouldn’t matter. I dove into the crowd, skipping and whooping, and danced. The others were clapping to the tune, so I joined in. I twirled around the square, feeling as at home as if I had done this every day of my life. I lifted my face and felt the warm sun on my cheeks, closed my eyes and let the music spin me around and around until a delightful dizziness made me slow.
I moved closer to the stage. Three men stood on the platform, each holding an instrument, and while I could see two of their faces, one remained hidden behind a tangle of long, gray hair. Something about that mane caught my attention, and for a moment I thought I might know that man. Surely I must; in such a wonderful place weren’t we all friends? But maybe I knew him better than the others in the crowd. I moved in his direction.
With a flourish, the song reached its crescendo and ended. The people stopped dancing and whooped their applause, which I enthusiastically joined. I was just feet from the stage now. The men stood from their seats and waved to the people, laughing gaily as they did so. I saw the man’s long, brown suspenders stretch over his shoulders as he took his bow.
“Bravo!” I cheered, though I had little sense of what that word even meant.
The man with the gray hair turned at my voice. I had intended to say something more, or at least give another whoop of appreciation. But then our eyes met, and the broad smile he wore faltered, flickering across his face like a television set losing its signal to static.
I froze, confused.
And then, at the same time, we both understood. This time the world did not turn upside down, but only because my gaze was locked onto his steely blue eyes, holding me to the ground like the heavy weight of gravity.
He dropped his instrument, a fiddle, to the floor and jumped from the stage, never taking his eyes off me. He pushed roughly through the crowd, who all patted him on the back and tried to shake his hands. And finally he was upon me, his hands on both my shoulders, staring deep into my eyes, the spell broken. My guide. My teacher. My friend.
Kiron.
CHAPTER SIX
“Whatever you do, don’t look away,” he said.
I gripped his arms. He breathed hard.
I tried to stay focused, to not forget again the plight of Rhainn and Cait, who so urgently needed our help.
But against the power of the spell that hung over Stonemore, I could barely move. My mind and body felt jammed as I tried to fight it. The false colors that painted the city were so tempting. It would be so easy to fall back into it, the comfort that came from forgetting what was going on beyond Stonemore’s walls. Now, fear bloomed through my whole body at the thought of getting lost again, of being caged within the city like a sedated animal. I fought the urge to run.
“How long?” was all I could manage to ask.
His face was pained as he tried to think clearly. “Months,” he blurted, his effort intense. “There’s no time.” From beneath his shirt he pulled a long charm necklace. Only they weren’t charms. They were links. “Hold on.”
He raised one and pointed it, giving the command as he did so. I tightened my hold on his arms, praying that we would make it out before succumbing again to the treacherous haze.
We hit the ground hard, landing in a heap in a small patch of trees. Somewhere close by a stream filled the wood with innocent song.
The last bits of the enchantment drained out of me like a trickle of water sliding off my skin.
“What’s going on?” I gasped, untangling myself from him. But seeing his face, knowing both of us were free, relief flooded through me. I smiled tentatively at him. “I’m so glad I found you.”
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he lay panting on the ground, hugging it as if he feared gravity could betray him at any moment.
“We’re in big trouble,” he said. “Eight of our number are still trapped in that stinkhole.” He rolled over onto his back and stared at the branches above. “Only Owyn’s been spared. He left months ago. To find you.”
“What? Why?” I asked, my other questions forgotten.
“We heard of the confrontation in the cave, about you and your friend…what was her name? And Cadoc.” At the mention of the name, a slight smirk emerged on his face and his eyes shifted to me. “You did good there, boy. But after you fled Stonemore, we fought for three days with The Shield. Those men, Owyn’s men, are tough as steel.”
He groaned, rolling over and propping himself up.
“Two hundred years of imprisonment did nothin’ to their abilities but make ‘em fight harder. But when Cadoc returned to the city after his pursuit of you that day, he took out his loss on all of us. We held for a time, but in the end he crushed us. We spent a fair number of days in the dungeons. It’s no place for any man.” He shook his head in disgust.
“But you’re not in the dungeons now. How did you escape?” I asked.
“Didn’t need to. When you killed Cadoc, everyone in Stonemore was released from his grip. It was like we’d all been in the middle of a wild, black hurricane, and then suddenly one day, it left us.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with one wrinkled, shaking hand. “After that, it was chaos, but the evil of the place had been released.”
He rolled onto all fours and slowly climbed to standing, another long, low groan escaping him. He turned and walked in the direction of the water. I jumped up after him.
“Then, months back,” he went on, “Owyn caught wind of trouble at the Fire Mountains. He left us to see if it was true. If the mountain had been compromised, then our hope to defeat the Corentin was lost. We feared you lost, too. But not long after he left the haze descended on the city.” He grimaced. “Only at the last moment, when I found myself painting Chapman’s place a disgusting pink, did I realize a curse had overtaken us. But by then it was too late.” He knelt by the stream, cupping water into his hands and drinking deeply.
“What happened to Owyn then?” I asked.
“Dunno,” he said, leaning back. “He never came back. Or if he did, he must’ve gotten out before the mist took him.” He stood back up and peered down at me. “But now with you here, we got a chance. You and I can go back together, rescue the others. Then we can figure out what to do next, how to get rid of that sickening cloud. Where’s your friend? The girl?”
My insides suddenly cramped, and I thought I might be sick. I wrapped my arms around my stomach as if I had just been punched.
“She’s…gone,” I said. “Almara, too.
Kiron sucked in his breath.
“So you did find the old one,” he said.
I nodded.
“She was his daughter,” I said. “We traveled together for a while. But once we found Almara, and he was mad, it was too much for her to take.”
“Almara was mad?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, but there’s more,” I said. “On my way here, I passed by an army. At least a thousand men maybe twenty jumps from here.” I gestured to the link, his link, still hanging around my neck. “They’ve got the children imprisoned.”
“Children?” he asked.
The sound of Rhainn being struck by Dormir rang out in my memory, and I nodded.
“The army, they’ve destroyed the villages on Aeso. They killed the adults and captured the children. Now they’re slaves. We have to go back and get them out.”
I started panting as I recounted the story to him, and soon I was fighting back hysteria. I wanted to run back to Rhainn right this minute, to lead the charge of every man in Stonemore to flatten that horrible army.
He put a hand on my shoulder.
“Calm down,” he said. “You can’t help nobody like that.” He sat back onto the rocks in the dry part of the stream bed. He looked as if he had run for hours. “We can’t just storm in there. We’ll have to get the others out of Stonemore first.”
I nodded.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said.
He raised one hand, stopping me, and tilted his head back, exhausted.
“Just a minute, boy. You still haven’t told me everything. What happened to Almara?”
“The Corentin, he got to them both. We made it to the Fire Mountains, but Almara sacrificed himself to save us. And then she—Jade—fell to the darkness.” I stared at the water, running crystal clear and clean over smooth, black rocks, and felt miserable. “The Corentin had been controlling him for centuries,” I said. I dropped my bag to the ground and dug out the Book of Leveling. “We—I—took this from the mountain before it collapsed.” I handed it to him.
“What is this?” he asked.
“It’s called the Book of Leveling. It tells how to balance the planets in the Fold, to take the Corentin’s power away.”
He ruffled through the pages of the book and then looked up, perplexed.
“It’s blank,” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. Then I took the palm of my hand and rubbed it over the page he was opened to. Instantly, words and calculations appeared on the parchment.
Kiron stared.
“My boy,” he said, “you have been busy.”
And for the first time, he smiled.
We sat on the ground, our backs up against two trees, and watched the fire crackle in the small pit we had dug. I had told him about the army preparing to launch its attack on Stonemore, but it wasn’t enough to get him up and moving yet. So, trying hard to be patient, I had joined him by the fire.
“What will we do next?” I asked, my socked feet hot from their closeness to the flames.
“Well, they ain’t in a rush. Not with Stonemore the way it is,” he said. “They can take their time.”
“You think they know? About the curse?” I asked.
“Someone knows,” he said. “Though I doubt everybody does. That’s not the kind of power you just go flashin’ around, especially to an army of bloodthirsty men. Seems to me, though, that this Coyle is behind the whole thing.” He stared blankly into the fire, as if this were the first time he had rested in months.